#And it feels so hollow when people who get plenty of interaction say 'oh if you're upset by no interaction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chipper-smol · 4 years ago

Text

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-  “You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”  No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.  “THANK YOU???”  You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood.  As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.  “Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?’

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown

------------------------------- By @buglife

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg. “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris

------------------------------- By @payasita

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.

#telephoneknight #hollowknight #hollow knight #RelicCoffeeAu #lemm #tiso #ghost #quirrel

126 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 5 years ago

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

��I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

Always Trust In Pixie Dust

; Pixie!Seokjin x Pixie!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst

; Word Count: 14k

; Synopsis: As a vegetable pixie, you weren’t exactly considered the most desirable in the pixie hierarchy. But the uncle of one of your student’s is convinced that you have a secret admirer, only made worse when your younger brother and sister get involved. Will they succeed in their matchmaking or will your admirer come forward before they can get into too much mischief?

; A/N: Okay so...this is my first FULL Jin fic and I feel bad because I basically lost all inspiration for any writing about 4/5 through writing this. As a result...it’s pretty fair to say I’m a little uncertain of how this fic is and how you’ll all feel about it, particularly as there’s no smut anymore (it just didn’t fit). I love the world though, and I love pixie!Jin. I hope you enjoy it and if you do, PLEASE reblog because Jin fics don’t get the love they deserve, nor do solely fluff fics :( also, please leave me your comments and thoughts and asks so I know what you thought. I’m trying my hardest to get back into writing and just finishing this was hugely important for me!

“Kim Taehyung...you don’t have a child,” Your words cause the tall pixie with soft, peach coloured hair to pause with almost comically wide eyes turned to you. “So what are you doing here?”

He says nothing for a moment before straightening himself, crossing his arms over his broad chest and pursing his lips at you. Even though he’s younger than you, he towers over you and you work hard to keep your teacher aura that had him looking so chastised when caught.

“You’re right. I don’t have a child. But I do have a niece. Right there,” Taehyung points over to the little girl sitting on the floor, her voice sweetly joining the other girls she’s sat with as they sing a nursery rhyme together. “And I’ve been asked to bring her home by her dad.”

Twisting your lips, you sigh before nodding and gesturing for him to come inside. The nursery that you worked at was inside a hollowed-out tree, providing plenty of space for the babies and little ones who were not old enough to attend school lessons in the higher levels of the tree. Everything inside your room was bright and colourful though, the walls stained with the vibrant colours that came from the richest pigments created from flowers.

A mural of the forest and individual, faceless pixies took up one half of the circular room while the other was free for the children to paint on as they saw fit. Creativity was one of the most important traits of a pixie after all, and it was your job to ensure that they went wild with all their beautiful, creative thoughts.

The floor was dotted with dried paint, and even new paint splashes from the day's activities and you hummed lightly as you moved over to the line of reed twine that was strung up across the room, parchment hung on it in intervals with each one containing a drawing. Scanning over, you take the one with the little girl's name and hand it over to Taehyung.

“Miyeon painted this for her dad. Make sure that he gets it please.” You request, smiling at him. He looks over the painting with a critical eye before grinning, nodding before bounding over to Miyeon and crouching down next to her.

“Hey, sweetie. Did you paint this for your daddy? He’s going to love it. Look at your house! It’s so pretty. You’re so talented.” He cooed to her and you watched as her face lit up with happiness at the approval and support from her uncle. Kim Miyeon was the four-year-old daughter of Kim Namjoon, Taehyung’s older brother.

Unfortunately, her mother had died of illness two years ago and so she was being brought up by Namjoon alone. Everyone had worried about that at first given Namjoon’s eccentric nature. He was the inventor of the hamlet, the one who put all that intelligence and creativity to use to create new and useful things for other pixies to use.

But it often meant he could be forgetful and scatterbrained. Occasionally forgetting to eat things or working too long. The idea of him raising a two-year-old on his own had been nerve-wracking, but Namjoon had once more impressed everyone by being a doting father to his daughter.

He may forget to feed himself, but his daughter never went without. And she was proving to be just as creative and intelligent as her daddy. You weren’t sure the hamlet was ready for two people like Kim Namjoon.

“Uncle Tae!” She said, her voice its usual sweet mixed with a little shyness. But you couldn’t deny her love for her uncle, nor his love for her. Opening his arms, she jumps into them and giggles as he stands, pretending she’s heavy by making overly loud grunts and noises.

“Oh, oh you’re getting so big. What is your daddy feeding you?” He teases her, laughing as she starts to give him a serious answer. Looking over at you, he gives you a boxy smile before heading to the door.

“You know...I know a little secret,” Raising a brow at him, you make a gesture for him to continue and he whispers into Miyeon’s ear, a conspiratorial look on his face as he watches you the whole time. “Did you know that Miss Park has a secret admirer?”

She gasps loudly, putting two small hands over her mouth while her pretty eyes go wide. You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead move a piece of Miyeon’s strawberry blonde hair out of the way of her eyes, untangling it as you do so.

“That’s not a secret Taehyung. You tell me that every time you see me.” Snorting, he rolls his eyes in turn before heading out of the door that you open for him. It’s warm outside, with the sun shining down through the forest canopy and a gentle, cool breeze causing the leaves and grass to rustle.

Taehyung’s wings, long and gossamer-thin like a dragonfly’s flicker as he moves into open space and you take in the hint of peach in the almost transparent wings. As with all pixies, his wing colour matches his hair and pixie dust.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna give you a hint this time. You know him.” Now you can’t help but laugh, leaning against the ancient tree trunk that was so familiar to you. Like all pixies in Appleseed Grove, you had also spent your early years in the rooms carved out of the old oak. It was almost tradition now, and everyone took care to make sure that the oak survived despite how it was being used as an education base.

“I know everyone in Appleseed Taehyung. So try again.” The younger pixie hums thoughtfully before winking at you.

“Okay, you may know everyone here. But your secret admirer is someone that you see every other day.” And with that, he spreads his wings and takes off, the soft fluttering of his delicate wings resulting in a glittering blur of peach as he flies off to Namjoon’s home with Miyeon safely secured in his arms.

Frowning, you watch him go before heading back inside to wait for the other parents to arrive. None of the children has noticed you leave and you lean against the wooden desk you use thoughtfully. None of the little ones had wings and you were beyond thankful for that. It was a pain trying to round them up as they moved on their little feet and legs so as a nursery teacher, you were beyond thankful that they wouldn’t get their wings until they were seven.

But you find yourself turning Taehyung’s words over in your head. He liked to tease you incessantly. It was in his base nature as the youngest son of his family and you were convinced the only responsibility he would ever accept was for the stables where he helped to train the birds that your hamlet was so famous for.

Pixies would travel from far and wide for an Appleseed bird. From the tawny owls that were perfect for anyone who needed to travel at night to the swallows that were used for general travelling needs and even the kestrel’s that were trained to help protect pixies and their land, Taehyung was surprisingly good at training them all.

No one was safe from his mischief outside of his work though and you sighed, wondering why you were letting him get to you. Still, though, he’d never given you a hint as obvious as this. Despite knowing everyone in Appleseed, you didn’t interact with everyone frequently. So that reduced the pool of suspects for your ‘secret admirer’.

If you ever had one.

Blowing out air loudly, you resolve to push his words out of his head for now. You’ve got more important things to worry about. Like little Jaebum who has started a paint fight with his fellow partner in crime Jiyong.

The incessant knocking on your door immediately gives you a clue as to who it is. There’s only one person who has that much pure energy and that’s your little sister, Park Jiwon. As soon as your door is opened, you’re immediately waylaid by both your younger siblings as they push past you into your home.

Groaning quietly, you rub at your face before closing the door and turning around. As a vegetable pixie, you had the luxury of living inside a baby carrot. As the name suggests, it’s pretty small and everything you owned was in this one room. A small kitchen was to the left while your bedroom to your right and a small living area further away.

Pixie social hierarchy is dictated by living status. Fruit pixies, like Taehyung, were the top as it required a lot of innate magic to keep their home sustained. Nut pixies, like your brother and sister, were on the second rank while vegetable pixies were below that. In an ideal world, it would just mean you all had different homes, with each home being directly influenced by your magic.

Your magic had manifested itself in a baby carrot, which was admittedly cute looking, Jimin’s in a chestnut and Jiwon’s in an almond nut. But pixie’s were notoriously finicky, which meant that they liked to marry into each other's social ranking. Fruit pixies to fruit and so forth. Which meant you were destined for another vegetable pixie.

You should be thankful, you guess. Only a few generations ago, your family had been rock pixies. Which meant they had no innate magic. So with your younger siblings being the first to ever manifest their homes in the nut ranking, you had hope that the future was bright for your nieces and nephews.

Didn’t help the small hint of sourness in yourself at the knowledge you’d been skipped over though. What you wouldn’t give for a better home, a nicer home. It was silly though, and you shook your head to escape the thoughts. It didn’t matter in reality, you had a good job, great friends and a loving family.

“What do you two want?” You sigh at the twins, their matching pale blonde hair the only thing you can see from where they sit on your sofa. Nut pixies were renowned for having the most similar colour palettes for their hair and wings. From the palest blonde to the darkest brown, your younger siblings had ended up on the paler end.

“Can’t we just visit our big sister?” Jimin says, a sweet smile on his face and you narrow your eyes at him. His cheeks were round and full, something he was never going to get rid of even though he was the same age as Taehyung. Same age and with the same mischievous mentality.

Unsurprisingly, they had been firm best friends since they’d met in nursery school. Which meant that Taehyung’s earlier mysterious comments had almost certainly been told to Jimin, who would have in turn told Jiwon. Because anything you told one twin would end up being told to the other as they were incapable of keeping secrets from each other.

“No. Well, yes and you do. Frequently. But I’m guessing it’s something to do with Taehyung deciding to be his usual self?” Jiwon giggles and it immediately sets off Jimin, the sounds almost the same except one had a feminine tone and the other masculine. Sighing deeply, you moved over to the kitchen and carried on making your dinner before looking at them both.

“Are you staying for dinner? It’s an apple walnut salad.” They both need eagerly and you snort in amusement. Despite the years between you all, and the fact that they had a much closer bond, you still loved them dearly and enjoyed their presence.

“So have you figured it out yet? Tae gave you such a good clue!” Jimin asks, reaching forward for your newest book that you’d taken from Appleseed’s sole library. It was run by Taehyung’s oldest brother, Kim Seokjin, who was a sweet guy if a little shy.

“What? That it’s someone in Appleseed who I see regularly? Narrows it down a little but not much munchkin.” A deep and overly exaggerated sigh leaves him and you resist the urge to poke your tongue out, not wanting to lower yourself to his level.

But he can tell what you’re feeling by the way your wings twitch. Jiwon pushes him, scolding him lightly and you chuckle at the reminder that she’s the older twin. If only by a few minutes of course.

“Shut up Jiminie. She’ll never realise,” You gasp in outrage at her quick betrayal of you and she simply flashes you a sweet smile in response. “Not until it’s spelt out for her.”

“Do you want this salad or do you want me to add in some paprika too?” Hissing, you point the knife you’re using to cut the vegetables for the salad and resist the urge to laugh at her pouting face. Jiwon hated paprika with a passion and you knew that apples were her weakness. There was no way she was giving up this dinner.

“Wonnie, you give in too easily to her.” Jimin scowls, poking at his twin incessantly until she’s squealing with laughter and wriggling around on the couch. Frowning, you watch them both and wonder how they don’t tear or break a wing. You wouldn’t think that they were both fully functioning adults with actual jobs looking at them right now.

There are better-behaved children in the nursery.

“Be nice to her, she’s my favourite sibling for a reason.” He gets up at that, so much outrage on his face that you’d think you’d just severely insulted him or something. Though with the twins, everything was a competition and so you probably had.

“Wrong. Anyway, I’m going to be your favourite sibling now. Because I’ll give you another hint.” Standing smugly, he crosses his arms over his chest and you pause from cutting the apples that you’d bought from the fruit market just before coming home.

“Why, exactly, do you think I care? Even if I find out who it is, nothing is going to happen. Also, stop being mean to whoever it is! They probably don’t want you to tell.” His plush pink lips pout out at your resistance to his teasing and you simply go back to making dinner, ignoring the two of them as they whisper to each other.

“You see him regularly, he’s older than you and you’ve been personally acquainted with him for your whole life.” Now that gets you to pause, frowning down at your knife as you contemplate Jimin’s words. Despite what you’d just told him, you can’t deny that you’re intrigued at the possibility of someone liking you.

It had been a while since you’d gone on a date and even then, he hadn’t been from Appleseed Grove but the next hamlet over in Greenleaf. Taehyung telling you that you not only knew your admirer but saw him regularly had reduced your list. But Jimin’s hints reduced it even further.

The list was still impossibly large in your opinion, you could already list several pixies whom you’ve known personally your whole life, but still. You can almost feel the answer. Shaking your head, you tut at him and frown as you try to push the inquisitive thoughts away.

“Jimin! What did I just say?”

Almost immediately he pouts, slumping down onto the couch in a remarkable imitation of a petulant toddler. Jiwon soothes him immediately, running her fingers through his hair and you want to scowl at their innate bond. Why was she making him feel better dammit?

“Enough, both of you. Come get a plate, it’s done and then I want you two out after you’ve finished eating. And make sure you wash your plates too!”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, your little brother and Taehyung do not let the issue go. You’re convinced that they’re hatching some sort of secret matchmaking mission with you as the main star. You trust Jimin of course, but you know he’s always one to get up to mischief and the combination of Taehyung and him is potentially devastating.

Still, you try to push it out of your mind as the last thing you need is to start stressing over whoever this admirer could be. And with your younger sibling, it could truly be anyone. For all you knew, it might be the sweet old man who lost his wife a year ago and is always tending to the community garden.

A shiver runs through you as that thought passes through your head. He’s nice, but certainly not what a young pixie like you wants. You have faith at least that Jiwon wouldn’t let her brother do something as mean as that. She might find the idea amusing but she probably wouldn’t let him get into it thankfully.

Opening the door to the library, you inhale the smell of fresh books with a small smile before heading inside. You’d already finished the book you’d taken out only the other day and had eagerly come back for something else, wanting a story to whisk you away in the evenings.

It helped that Seokjin was an incredibly handsome pixie too, you wouldn’t lie. The rose pink-haired man was perhaps the perfect man to run the library as he always had his nose pushed into a book and he had an almost perfect memory of everything stocked. No matter what subject you wanted, whether fiction or nonfiction, he knew exactly what you would like to read.

He was also incredibly shy and awkward, which was why he seemed especially suited to the quiet solitude of the library. Plenty of people visited it, of course, even now you could see a mother with her two young children picking out books, but it wasn’t exactly somewhere that saw a huge amount of socialising.

You liked that though and you liked his company too. It was understandable perhaps given that you spent your daily life around small children who didn’t seem to understand that they had inside voices yet. Seokjin was like a breath of fresh air to you. A very quiet, softly spoken breath of fresh air.

If ever there was anyone in Appleseed Grove that would be the most understanding of the never-ending struggles of your little brother, it would be Kim Seokjin. How he’d managed to put up with Taehyung when he was younger was beyond you because that boy was chaos incarnate. Which was another reason why you were here; you wanted to get Seokjin’s opinion on the whole thing.

He was a font of useful knowledge and had read enough philosophy and self-help books to be able to give you correct and relevant advice. Plus, he knew all about annoying little brothers who were determined to meddle in your life. There had been a rather amusing incident a few years ago where Taehyung had set up Seokjin on a date, only it had turned out his date was double his age and thought they were just going to play nuts and stones in the park with her other elderly friends.

Needless to say, it had been embarrassing for everyone involved and you weren’t sure how Taehyung was still alive. All you knew was that Seokjin must dearly love him. Either that or Namjoon had intervened to prevent one of his brother’s murder.

You really should ask him how he restrained himself because you were positive that one day you were going to have to do the same. And you did not want to see Jiwon sad because you’d had to murder her twin brother for embarrassing you.

At first glance, you don’t see Seokjin anywhere and you sigh softly. It looks like you’re going to have to search for the pixie throughout the aisles of books. Thankfully, the library isn’t too big. It takes up all the space in an old tree stump with bookcases lining the area that are all packed full of books.

Placing the book you’ve brought back behind the front desk, you begin to search through the aisles. You’re never quite sure what Seokjin spends his time doing in the library really and when you find him, he’s just crouched in front of the romance section. Raising your eyebrow, you watch him for a moment and simply take the moment to admire him while he’s not paying attention.

Seokjin is very introverted by nature which is unfortunate because he’s quite possibly the most handsome pixie you’ve ever seen. His soft hair is ruffled today, the strands made up of a range of colours from a deep rose to the lightest cherry blossom. A beautiful golden tan to his skin, round cheeks, luscious plump lips and enigmatic brown eyes combine with tall stature and broad shoulders to make him just plain beautiful.

He doesn’t notice you admiring him given how intently he’s staring at the bindings of the books, his delicate, translucent wings shimmering as they twitch in time to whatever he’s thinking. Pursing your lips, you shake your head to push out the intrusive thoughts before heading over and crouching next to him.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask lightly, looking over the novels he’s perusing and realise they’re all historical romance novels. They’re not your kind of thing as the topic of noble fruit pixies taking pity on lowly vegetable pixies or even worse, rock pixies. Society took a while to move on and you were thankful that the age of nobility had long since passed but there were still those who sought to imagine themselves in that period.

And as someone who would’ve been of the servant class back then, you had no wish to read about being ridiculed for loving someone higher up. You didn’t know whether Seokjin was interested in it or was just contemplating how to reorganise them. The shelf didn’t look to be in any specific order and if you knew anything about him, it was that he liked his things to be neatly organised.

Still, he hadn’t been expecting you as the yell he lets out is obscenely loud in the quietness of the library. Even more than that, he falls backwards in a scene that could only be described as comical.

Chuckling, you gently reach forward to help him rearrange his wings before he gets into a cross-legged position. Pressing a hand to his chest, he takes a deep breath in before exhaling slowly with wide eyes.

“Hey! Give a guy some warning next time please!” He exclaims a small hint of a whine threading into his voice in what can only be described as a Seokjin complaint. Snorting, you roll your eyes and sit next to him as you both stare at the bookshelf quietly.

“So, was there a reason you just frightened the life out of me?” Reaching forward, he takes one of the books off the shelf before carrying on removing the rest. You help him by taking on the other side of the shelf, humming to yourself with a tongue in your cheek as you contemplate how to ask.

While you knew Seokjin well enough to feel okay asking him about this, you weren’t exactly super close. He was a little older than you and almost intimidatingly handsome. Perhaps unsurprisingly, you’d had a big crush on your little brother’s best friend's older brother when you were younger. And that was a confusing enough sentence on its own.

As a result of that relationship though, the two of you had had enough interactions over the years to be called friends. Not close friends or anything, but enough that you felt comfortable talking to him. Plus, he was an incredibly calm and stable person when he wasn’t screaming in fear.

Along with that, if anyone was going to understand how to handle Taehyung, it would be his eldest brother. Which is why you let out your breath in a long, low exhale before placing the final book on the pile.

“Did you know Taehyung has been bothering me lately?” Cringing, you realise that makes it sound like he’s annoying you. And as much as you wish he wouldn’t tease you about this whole admirer thing, he wasn’t annoying you.

“Scratch that. I made him sound bad. He’s not bothering me really, it’s just...I think Jimin and him are on one of their matchmaking crusades again. Taehyung’s been telling me for ages that I’ve got a secret admirer and I pretty much ignored him because I thought he was just making it up. Only now Jimin’s got involved and it’s someone I know and see often?” You don’t notice the way Seokjin freezes for a moment, his hand pausing over the top of the book he was about to pick up.

“Oh...really?” His voice is weirdly high for a moment before he coughs roughly, clearing whatever had caused the pitch change before it’s back to normal. “A...secret admirer? How long has he been telling you that?”

Making a face, you wave your hand aimlessly in an unsure gesture as you shrug simultaneously. “I don’t know. At least a few months I think, I haven’t been keeping track. But when I pointed out the other day that I know everyone in Appleseed Grove, both Jimin and he decided to up the ante and are starting to give me clues. So now I know it’s at least someone who I interact with and not just someone who happens to live here. Which is still a really big pool to pick from given my job.”

Sighing deeply, you stretch out one leg before moving your hands to rest on the floor behind you, holding your upper body up as you stretch. There’s a soft fluttering as your wings stretch too and you shiver slightly as they brush against Seokjin’s own, lacing his with burnished copper pixie dust. Twisting your lips, you look over to where Seokjin is sitting staring at the pile of books.

Frowning, you reach over to poke his muscular thigh playful and tilt your head when he looks up. He has an almost curious expression on his face and you give him a questioning glance. There’s no response from him for a few seconds, instead, he just seems to look over your face intently before giving you a tight smile.

“Nothing more than that? No like...name hints or jobs or anything?” Seokjin asks, looking back away from you to start rearranging the books into alphabetical authors. Watching him, you tap at your lips before sighing and shaking your head.

“No. But it’s your brother. And my brother. We know what they’re like. They’ll get me believing them and it’ll turn out to be some old guy. Or even a bird knowing Taehyung. For all I know, they’re just talking bird poop to me and there’s no one.” That gets a snort from Seokjin and you look at him in confusion.

When he realises you’re staring, he coughs awkwardly and you can’t help but smile at the way his ears burn red, a shade almost similar to the rich red of the apple he lives in. His cheeks are soon flushing too and you have to bite your lip to make sure you don’t let yourself laugh too loudly to embarrass him even more.

Still, you want to know what’s got him like that so you stay carefully quiet to let him explain himself. After a minute of silence, that’s particularly awkward, he must realise that you’re not going to let the conversation move on until you’re done. Resting his hand on the cover of the book he’s placed onto the shelf, he takes a surprisingly big breath that has your brows raising slightly.

“I’m pretty sure there’s someone. I mean...n-not that I-I know who it i-is but like...you’re so nice a-and stuff. So...I-I mean, Taehyung is probably right. D-don’t you think?” Slowly, your lips twist up into a smile as you feel suddenly shy at his sweet praise. Hearing Seokjin sound so sure that there’s someone out there who likes you makes butterflies flutter inside your stomach and you feel the small flame of hope that maybe it’s even him.

It’s ridiculous of course because Seokjin is way out of your league. Like, he’s not even in the same realm as you so there’s no point in even hoping really. He’s a fruit pixie from a long, unbroken line of fruit pixies who is also ridiculously handsome and intelligent. There’s no way he’d want to lower himself to be with you.

Still...you can’t help but have a small hope. That crush from years ago apparently never died.

“Maybe. It’s a nice thought, right? I’m not exactly the greatest catch in Appleseed though.” Now he’s the one snorting, his eyes rolling in exasperation before he lets out an expletive, pushing at your arm hard enough until you’re almost falling over.

“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful, smart and have a great job. Anyone would be honoured!” Almost as if he realises what he’s just said, his eyes go wide and his already pink cheeks redden even further. “I-I mean...w-well. Y-yeah, what I said.”

Smiling gently, you reach and take his hand, squeezing it gently in thanks before gently scooting over the pile of books on your side. Even though you’d come here to get an idea of how to handle Taehyung, you feel pretty content now given that even Seokjin thought the admirer might be real. It made you feel a little excited to know that there could be someone out there, dreaming of living a domestic life with you.

“Thanks, Seokjin, you’re too sweet. I put the book I took out behind the desk, are you okay if I take something else?” You gesture back towards the end of the aisle and miss the way Seokjin’s eyes go a little soft at you.

“Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Just...write down what you took and I’ll note it down in the lodger. And hey...just ignore Taehyung if you want. I’ve learnt that eventually, he gets bored if he gets no real reply.” He gives you a small smile, looking remarkably small for someone so big as he sits there on the floor and you give him a smile of thanks in response.

“Maybe. I was going to do that but...I mean, if it is real...maybe I should go along with it? Find out who it is. You never know, it could be my future husband or wife. I’d be silly to turn that down right? It’s a little exciting too like I’m in school again.” Giggling, you give him a bright smile before waving goodbye and heading back out.

Once you’ve left his sight, Seokjin’s shoulders deflate with the long-suffering sigh he lets out while his head flops forward. Closing his eyes, he stays that way for a moment while mentally imaging all the ways he could murder Taehyung and Jimin without their bodies ever being found. He’d read enough books to be able to pull it off, surely.

Flower stems, he hated that he’d gotten drunk that one night with them all and accidentally blurted his long-held crush for you. It was something that everyone had already figured out long ago but that night, he’d confirmed it. And of course, his little brother and his annoyance-in-arms best friend had decided to do something about it and play matchmaker.

But what was he meant to do? He couldn’t kill them now because you looked to be too invested in the mystery of it all, the romance of everything. Would you be disappointed if you found out it was him though? He knew that he was good looking but at the end of the day, he was still the shy and introverted librarian who didn’t get too involved with everyone else. Not exactly the best catch.

Glancing back to where you’d gone, he chewed on his lip slowly before taking in a deep breath. Or maybe you would be happy with the revelation. If he let it get revealed of course. Would you ever consider him as a potential future husband?

Seokjin knew that the only way to find out that was to let you find out who your admirer was. But he was suddenly struck with uncertainty at the knowledge you’d find out via Taehyung and Jimin. Surely you’d like it better if he confessed himself? It’d be better coming from him right? Or would you be angry that he hadn’t said anything when you’d sat here, talking about it so confused?

Swallowing thickly, he wondered what the right decision was. And if he’d even make that decision or make a fool out of himself for everyone else to see.

The next few weeks are busier than ever for you with the coming Harvest Festival. It was one of the biggest events in the year and saw all pixies getting involved with harvesting the communal gardens. Thanks were given to the goddess of the harvest, Alixtra, and everyone celebrated in the hopes of a bountiful harvest next year as well.

As such, you were not only coordinating where you were going to be spending the Festival but also helping the children to get involved. That involved getting them to make special banners and decorations that would be hung throughout Appleseed Grove while also teaching them the importance of the Festival.

You were also being bombarded with Taehyung and Jimin. The two mischief-makers had gotten it firmly into their heads that they simply needed to have you figure out who the admirer was and so they’d upped their game. It almost felt like you couldn’t have a single conversation with them without them mentioning it.

As much as you’d indulge them under normal circumstances however, you were a little too stressed with trying to sort everything out to truly appreciate their efforts. So the most they were doing is successfully annoying you and making you wish that you didn’t even have a secret admirer.

Honestly, it was all just becoming a little too much from them and you’d snapped more than a few times. You had more important things to be worrying about than whatever they were cooking up. And you knew that they were planning something for the Festival. There was no way they couldn’t be.

Groaning quietly, you pressed a hand to your forehead as you tried to rub away the headache that was brewing. Today had been particularly stressful with the children deciding to be completely uncooperative. You’d had to clean up so much mess along with dealing with two tantrums and three fights.

It seemed the excitement of it all was getting to them. As much as you wanted to be angry at their behaviour, which was normally excellent, you couldn’t because they were just children. Children who were being a little overwhelmed by the fact everyone was suddenly making a big deal of the Festival. If the adults were getting stressed over it, then it wasn’t surprising that the children were struggling to cope with their emotions too.

So you’d soothed the tears when some of them had gotten too upset when their painting didn’t go right and you placated frayed tempers between friends until they were hugging each other once more. The downside to being the calm person throughout it all was that you had taken on their negative emotions.

As a result, you needed to calm down and the best way to do that was to take yourself off somewhere. Which was why you were at the aviary, the home of all the birds that Taehyung helped to train. They didn’t all live there obviously, most of them lived freely and returned when called but many chose to stay in the warm, comfortable spaces made for them.

And one of those birds was Sweetsong, Taehyung’s swallow who was his pride and joy. She was, as her name implied, incredibly sweet and had a pretty birdsong when she felt like it. You had permission to take her out whenever she wasn’t being used by Taehyung as you enjoyed riding but couldn’t afford a bird. They were too expensive to maintain, unfortunately, so you simply rode Sweetsong.

You were kind of glad of it, to be honest as you loved her. Heading into the aviary, you called out her name and smiled as she chirped before fluttering down to meet you. Big, intelligent black eyes take you in for a moment before she recognises you and twitters happily, pushing her soft head against you.

Sweetsong was a typical swallow bird with indigo feathers that turned into a navy blue across her head and wings. Her breast was covered in the softest feathers of cream and white, evidently having been groomed by Taehyung recently, while the lower half of her face was a burnt orange.

“Hey girl, how are you?” You murmur to her, smiling as you stroke her face gently. She follows you out of the aviary obediently and stands quietly as you retrieve the spider silk tack that was made just for her. It’s incredibly strong and light, which is ideal given how fine-boned she was, with the underneath covered in the highest quality moss to prevent her feathers from being pulled or caught.

Looping the bridle around her head and carefully adding the saddle, you reach for a handful of grain from one of the leaf bins nearby and feed it to her while checking her over. Years of handling her meant she was content to simply wait for you and you smiled, nodding happily as you accepted she was okay.

“Okay Sweetsong, let’s go for a fly, hm?” Whispering to her, you kiss her beak before moving to the saddle. Pushing with your wings, you landed with grace and positioned yourself as you’d been taught when you were younger. Almost immediately, Sweetsong changes position and you feel her becoming more alert and ready.

Clicking your tongue quietly at her, she tilts her head in response before spreading her magnificent wings. You only get a moment to admire them though before she’s pushing off, the sound loud against the quietness of the evening and soon enough, you’re both rushing through the air as she moves faster.

Grinning broadly, you hold onto the reins and lean in so that the air doesn’t hurt as much, letting your wings find their perfect position so they’re not uncomfortable while flying. While pixies were perfectly capable of flying and did often, it was tiring to fly long distances. Which was why different birds were trained, allowing them to carry you when you wouldn’t be able to.

Rising higher and higher into the sky, you both cleared the forest with ease. Taking in a deep breath of cold, fresh air, you sit upright as Sweetsong finds an air current and begins to glide along with it. She chirps happily, singing a song to her wild free who flutter out of the treetops as well.

The forest is far below you now, the green tops of them a never-ending sight as they extend out towards the horizon in all directions. Almost sensually they move, flowing together as the wind rushes through them and you’re reminded of the rushing river close to Appleseed. It’s far stronger than the simple creek that slithers through the Grove but the movement of the canopy reminds you of it for a moment.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and simply enjoy how relaxing it feels to be so high. There are no worries up here, no stress or anxiety. No secret admirers or annoying little brothers. It’s just you and Sweetsong with the final rays of the sun painting a striking image across the sky in pinks, oranges, purples and yellows.

This was exactly what you needed after the day you’d had. After the month you’ve had really. It was just...relaxing to have nothing to concern yourself about for an hour or so. Sweetsong flew steadily for you and the day was ending beautifully, making you positive that you’d made the right decision to take her out.

“Ah girl, what am I gonna do?” You sighed out, reaching forward to stroke the silky soft feathers of the swallow’s head. What you were asking that question about exactly, you weren’t sure. A lot of things were uncertain lately and you just didn’t know how to handle it all. Still, it felt nice to just ignore civilization for a while and instead just fly.

So that’s what you do for the next hour. The two of swooping and soaring through the air, travelling a good distance before heading back home. You can tell that Sweetsong is happy to just be able to fly how she wants given the cute noises she makes the whole time and you can’t help but laugh at them. Despite Taehyung being an annoyance for you lately, you wouldn’t deny that he’d done a good job with training her.

His pride and joy.

Appleseed Grove isn’t visible from the air at first, not unless you have a hawk’s vision. But the lower Sweetsong gets, the better you get to see your home. The small oil lamps have been lit for the night, giving the Grove a warm and cosy look while you see a few stragglers who are out enjoying the last of the evening light.

All around the Grove is a range of fruits, nuts and vegetables that are home to so many pixies. Single pixies and whole families of them arranged neatly in whatever magic is inherent to you all. A few tree trunks are hollowed out for social needs such as the school but otherwise, it’s a burst of pretty colours that blend.

Landing at the aviary, you quickly get off Sweetsong and set about getting her ready for the night. The bridle and saddle are removed while you quickly go and get the feather shine Taehyung had developed long ago. Running it along her feathers gently, you smiled at her pleased and content noises and kissed her beak once more.

Once she is ready to go back in for sleep, you walk in with her and give her a nightly feed. When Taehyung had agreed to let you take her out whenever you’d also agreed to care for her when you came back. That meant grooming her once finished and feeding her, along with cleaning her tack.

Which is why once you’ve got her all settled, you sit down on one of the small seats made from a broken branch to begin cleaning. The spider silk bridle is so light and dainty in your hands, yet you know it’s near enough impossible to break. Still, it can get dirty quite easily and the moss has to be cared for to make sure it doesn’t go bad.

“Y/N?” Your name is called makes you jump in surprise, the sound loud and unexpected in the quietness of the aviary. Looking around at the entrance with wide eyes, you frown for a moment in confusion at the sight of Seokjin before giving him a friendly smile.

“Hey Seokjin, how are you?” You ask politely, watching as he moves inside from the doorway. He’s playing with his hands, fingers pushing and rubbing against each other and you frown as you realise that he’s nervous for some reason. Although it was Seokjin and he wasn’t exactly famed for having an outgoing disposition.

“Hi, I’m err...I’m good. Yeah, good.” Tilting your head at him, your eyes narrow as you wonder what’s so wrong. He sounds like something’s wrong and you go to get up, unsure if you’re needed for something. Although what help you could be, you didn’t know.

“N-no, don’t get up. It’s okay. I just...I mean...I have something to tell you. Myself. Before others tell you. I just…” He swallows, his face paler than usual and you watch intently as he wipes at his brow with shaking hands. “I want you to hear it from me. And I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before now. But…it’s just...it’s you.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you wonder what he’s talking about as he’s making no sense to you. Who was going to tell you something? And what did he need you to know so desperately? You only really saw him when you went to the library so you couldn’t think of anything hugely important. Unless you’d forgotten to take a book back or something.

“I-I like you. It’s me. Your secret admirer. It’s, well, it’s me. I err, I don’t remember when it started or anything b-but it was a long time ago. I just...y-you’re so pretty and outgoing. I never knew h-how to talk to you properly like that. And I didn’t think that you’d like me like that either. But then you said that about Taehyung and Jimin and I panicked because what if you found out from them and not from me?” He continues to babble for a few minutes but all you can focus on is two immediate facts.

Firstly, he likes you. As in...romantically likes you. All those crushes you’d had as a teenager immediately come rushing to fore as you try to understand the fact that Kim Seokjin, the incredibly handsome and intelligent Kim Seokjin who was way out of your realm, liked you. This must be a dream or something.

The only explanation.

Secondly, he was your secret admirer? That gets the biggest frown from you as you try to comprehend it. Taehyung and Jimin had been pretty clumsy with their hints obviously, but they were right in the hints they had given you. You did know him well and you did interact with him frequently.

Plus, the fact that Seokjin was Taehyung’s older brother and Jimin was Taehyung’s best friend...it all made sense. Though why they’d started their crusade to get you together, you weren’t entirely sure. You were positive that you hadn’t given any hint to the fact that you could potentially like Seokjin.

Pushing those thoughts out of your head though, you decide that the most important concern right now is to make sure that the fruit pixie doesn’t give himself a heart attack. Which looks a distinct possibility given how stressed he’s looking right now.

Giving him a gentle smile, you reach out and take one of his shaking hands and invite him to sit next to you. The way he almost falls onto the seat has you biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing though it’s not helped by the way his eyes are so wide, almost like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Hey, hey, Seokjin. Please...just calm down. It’s okay. I’m not going to be mean or anything. Just...take a breath and explain it to me properly. You’re my admirer? You like me?” The way your lips curl up into a smile as you say those words is mirrored by the warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Seokjin pauses, body stilling completely for a second as he acknowledges what you’ve said before nodding slowly. He’s not looking at you now, instead focusing firmly on the ground before him. Licking at your lips, you wonder how to handle this and it goes quiet for a few moments.

“Wow, teenage me would be dying of excitement right now,” You tease him lightly, pushing at his shoulder with your own as you grin at his surprise. “And I’ll be honest...adult me is pretty happy with this news too. You like me? A vegetable pixie?”

That gets a snort of derision from him and you almost sigh in relief at how his annoyance with the intricacies of the pixie social hierarchy is stronger than his nerves. Leaning into him a little, you inhale deeply and smile at the sweet scent he gives off.

“I don’t care about that! Who cares?! It means nothing other than your magic chose that to manifest in. Some of the smartest pixies in history weren’t fruit pixies so why does it matter? I mean, you teach the future of our society in school and…” He carries on with his rant, his strong brows furrowed inwards as he gesticulated wildly to go along with his anger.

It makes you feel a little warm at how he repudiates the societal expectations that you’d both grown up with. Pursing your lips, you let him finally finish before he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Then he looks directly at you, those beautiful and emotive mahogany eyes feeling like they’re staring deep into you.

“I like you Y/N. I-I’ve never dared to say it before because I didn’t think you’d like me back. I’m nothing like you and I know that. But I was with some friends one night and we got to drinking honey sugar so I was a little drunk and...yeah. That’s where Taehyung and Jimin found out about my feelings. I don’t know if I was going to get the courage to tell you but when you told me what they were doing...I couldn’t let you find out that way. Nor did I want to get blindsided by their scheming. If you want to reject me then…I-I’d rather you do it in private than whatever they’re planning.” He finished, round cheeks flushing a red that makes him look rather sweet while his eyes almost seem to shine in the low light.

You don’t respond for a minute, simply looking him over carefully and you note the way his broad shoulders seem to slump at what he probably thinks is a rejection. In reality, though, you’re just admiring how brave and bold he was to come to you and tell you this. Tell you his feelings that he was planning to keep to himself because he thought there was no chance.

All this, so you didn’t get hurt or upset at finding out who your admirer was. There was some selfish nature too as he didn’t want to get rejected in a public setting but still. You could only imagine how difficult it was to put yourself and your feelings out here like this while having no idea what the potential outcome could be.

Reaching for his hand, you take it and gently squeeze it reassuringly. He looks down and swallows hard when you manoeuvre your hands until your fingers are laced together. Lip quirking, you note how natural it looks to have them like that before you glance back up at him.

“I’m not going to lie, Seokjin. I didn’t exactly expect it to be you. I mean, I thought it would be nice but I thought that you were way out of my league and that I had no chance. So to find out that it’s you? I mean...I can’t think of anyone who I’d rather it be now. More So because you found the courage to tell me without letting me get suckered into whatever our brothers were planning. I appreciate that I do.” Pausing, you run your finger along the back of his hand and trace the veins and tendons there.

Seokjin doesn’t respond, instead just letting you explore while you get your thoughts together. You wanted to make sure that you did this right because you certainly were not planning on letting Seokjin walk out of here with a broken heart.

“I’m happy it’s you. And I can’t say that I feel exactly the same, but I know that I want more with you now. If you’ll accept it and accept me?” Once more, Seokjin’s eyes widen to the point that you’re almost surprised they don’t fall out. His wings twitch and vibrate almost intensely behind him, rose pink pixie dust fluttering to the ground as his nerves get the best of his control.

“Really?” Is all he blurts out, his plump lips forming an ‘o’ shape of surprise and you snort with laughter as you nod. Poking at them gently, you then let your fingers trace lightly over the smooth and silky soft skin of his cheek until you’re cupping it.

“Really. I’d be an idiot to say no to this offer! You’re quiet and shy, yes, but I love that about you. You’re also so intelligent and kind and funny. Always willing to put a smile on everyone’s face, even if it’s at the expense of yourself. There’s no way I’m going to turn you down, Mr Kim. So the question is...do you want this to become a relationship? An actual, romantic relationship with no interference from our brothers?” He’s silent for a moment, simply staring at you in what looks like awe.

It makes you wriggle in your seat, the spider silk bridle still carefully in your lap while the gentle sounds of the sleeping birds above you both form a piece of natural background music. Finally, though, you see his shocked face turn into one of pure happiness as his eyes practically light up with excitement, his cheeks rising as the smile on his face grows so broad.

“Yes! Definitely, of course. I mean...are you serious?” Giggling, you nod as he continues to stutter out questions to you. Squeezing his hand once more, you grin broadly as he almost floats off the seat in pure exhilaration, his wings releasing so much pixie dust that you can see it glittering in front of you as it floats on the gentle breeze.

“One thing though,” You say, causing him to pause with dread seeping into his expression. “We are going to get our own back on our brothers.”

The Harvest Festival always began early in the morning, when the first rays of sun began to lighten the sky and the birds sang their first notes for the day. For as long as there was natural light, pixies from all over Appleseed Grove would work together to harvest the crops before celebrating during the night.

It was your favourite time of the year. You were able to see the fruits and vegetables that had been carefully grown over the summer months and know that the winter was going to be easy this year. A year with a bad harvest meant that winter was a struggle, and no one wanted that.

But so far today, you've helped to harvest the strawberry fields. A few strawberries had left your basket and made their way into your mouth, their succulent bodies were ripe with juice and bursting with a sweet flavour. It was customary for pixies to indulge in some of the harvests, as long as it wasn’t going to impact on the overall crop.

You’d already filled six baskets with the luscious red fruit, the pile of strawberries being carefully placed by more volunteers into boxes. These volunteers had the most magic in the Grove, and they used that magic to seal the boxes. This meant the contents remained in an almost frozen manner, staying fresh for the coming months instead of rotting away.

No one knew how it worked really, nor did anyone know how they did it. It was just something instinctive that they did. You knew because you’d asked Taehyung one year. His family was rich in magic and they were always part of the sealers. He hadn’t been able to give you an answer as he didn’t know how he did it, just that it happened without conscious thought.

Through a little subtle influence, you’d managed to make it so that Seokjin was one of the sealers at the strawberry fields today. No one knew that you were together yet. It had been two weeks since you had agreed to start a relationship. Two weeks that had been almost dreamlike for you.

You visited his home after dark, feeling like you were breaking the rules or something, and enjoyed his company throughout the evening. Sometimes it was just making dinner today, feeling very domestic, other times it was reading against each other in silence. There had been a few incidents where the two of you had gotten a little more...involved than you’d anticipated, resulting in you having to rush out of his home in the early morning in the hopes you could get back to your home and change your clothes.

It was all very exciting and exhilarating, made even better by the fact that you loved to see the warm smile of happiness that spread whenever he looked at you. If you’d thought he was handsome before, then it was nothing compared to now when you could have him however you wanted him.

You were pretty sure you were fast on the track to loving this pixie.

The only reason you were both remaining quiet about your relationship was so that your little brothers wouldn’t find out too early. You’d been entirely serious when you’d told Seokjin that you wanted to get back at them. They had far too much fun pranking people and you felt it was time that they got a dose of their own medicine.

Seokjin had just fully agreed, laughing at the thought of outsmarting Taehyung for once. And he’d loved your plan as well. The both of you were going to have to be impeccable actors tonight.

For now though, you’d had to just settle with subtle touches of each other whenever you’d passed, a hand running along his back or arm or a gentle squeeze of your arm when you handed him another basket of strawberries. The smiles between you both were perhaps a little softer than one might expect, your eyes a little more loved up but no one was looking too closely.

It felt nice though, to have someone to smile and laugh with. You just couldn’t wait until it was finally out in the open, even if Seokjin was a little nervous about how people would react. For you, you didn’t care about the general population’s opinion. It was the parents that worried you a little.

Oh, your parents would be ecstatic at you getting into a relationship with one of the most eligible pixies in Appleseed. It was a step up for you, going straight from vegetable to fruit and Seokjin’s family were well respected. But you were worried about how they would react to you. For Seokjin, they would probably view it as him lowering himself.

You had hope though because Seokjin had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about anyone else’s views in regards to that. He liked you as you were and he’d told you many times over the last two weeks that he had never wanted anyone else. Which was always surprising to hear, but it warmed your stomach still.

Now though, the light in the sky was beginning to wane as nature painted it in streaks of oranges, yellows and reds while the sun began to set. The lanterns around the Grove were being lit and the bubbling sense of excitement seeped into the atmosphere.

You’d finished picking only around half an hour ago, the strawberry fields officially empty of any of the fruit. The boxes were all sealed and had been moved to the communal storage where they would remain until they were needed. Many other pixies sat around as well, chattering with each other as they waited for the final signal.

Seokjin was sitting next to you, tiredness etched into his face as he blinked blearily and you snorted, reaching over to push at him slightly.

“What are you so tired for? You weren’t walking the fields and picking!” Teasing him, you grin as he pulls a face and lets out an outraged yell. It gets a few looks from others but they just turn away with a smile, used to the way Seokjin was the loudest quiet person they’d ever known.

“Hey! I’ve been busy too. I just...I’m not used to all this manual labour stuff, you know? Or socialising this much. I work in a library for a reason.” He states plainly, his face carefully blank and you can’t help but snort in amusement. Perhaps it was different for you. Being a teacher meant that you spent most of your day on your feet, running around after children and picking up their stuff.

Shaking your head slightly, you can’t help but lean against him and enjoy the warmth he’s giving off. The nights are slowly beginning to get colder and you’re already not looking forward to the coldness of winter. Frost and ice were not friendly to a tiny pixie and you shuddered at the thought of it already.

The fear of your wings freezing and breaking was something that began in childhood and never quite left.

Remaining quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself almost dozing off on Seokjin’s shoulder. The hard work you’d done throughout the day was combined with how comfortable and safe you felt with him, his now-familiar scent soothing you and lulling you to sleep.

The sudden ringing of a bell throughout Appleseed Grove, the sound echoing off the trunks of the giant trees surrounding you, causes you to jerk upright. Eyes wide, you almost don’t hear the way Seokjin laughs as you realise your wings are fluttering in fright. Glancing behind, you grimace at the sight of the glittering pixie dust left from your wings, orange dust shimmering in the light.

“Finally!” You exhale, standing up and stretching with a tiny groan. A warm hand resting on your suddenly exposed stomach makes you grunt, shrinking back down and looking at Seokjin with wide eyes. He simply grins and shrugs, gesturing to the fact that almost everyone had practically sprinted off anyway.

“No one’s looking, it’s okay. Come on then, sweetpea. Let’s go enjoy the evening!” Seokjin doesn’t take your hand to lead you down to the centre of the Grove, instead resting his own on the small of your back and gently guiding you there. Smiling at him, you take a moment to quickly kiss his cheek while you have the chance before eagerly rushing past the now barren fields.

The bell signalled that the harvest was complete and stored away for winter. It also meant that the partying could begin, with everyone making their way back to the hamlet and getting ready to celebrate through the night and give thanks to Alixtra for what she had blessed you all with.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You say to Seokjin once you reach the first homes, looking up at him and giving him a bright smile as he nods. He doesn’t kiss you, but his hand lingers on your back before you go. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, for now, perhaps go and pay his respects to Alixtra at the Harvest Shrine.

But you’re on a mission as you have a specific job to do now.

Searching through the Grove, you eventually manage to round up your entire class and have them all gathered around you. The children have spent the day running through the various fields and playing, encouraging their parents and the other adults to work well while enjoying themselves. Now they all stand before you, looking suitably tired yet excited.

Children did not participate in the harvest itself, but they did have an important role to play during the Festival. Alongside helping you decorate and creating a suitably atmospheric mood for Appleseed Grove, they were also the ones who would make offerings to Alixtra for a good bounty next year as well.

Each child had a fruit or vegetable that had been picked today, the biggest and best of each crop held tightly in their small hands. Smiling at them all as you counted them, you crouched down and brought them all in closer.

“Okay everyone, we’re going to do this just like we practiced, remember?” They all nod at you seriously, their faces carefully restrained while their eyes gleamed with repressed emotion. “Good, come on then. Everyone’s waiting!”

Walking through the crowd of pixies that surrounded the Harvest Shrine, you smiled at them all in turn as they gave way to you and your little procession. Cooing and soft murmurs of joy rippled through them as they took in the sight of the tiny children and their big harvest, each small face full of concentration that made them look even more adorable.

Reaching the Harvest Shrine, you bowed your head reverently to the carving of Alixtra before gesturing to the children. Each one came forward and placed their harvest onto the wooden altar, bowing their head as you’d taught them before taking a step back. This continued on until everyone was done and the shrine was filled.

Looking them over as they stood in a straight line, their hands all linked together as you’d taught them, you grin before nodding your head to let them know they could finish.

“Thank you Alixtra for this harvest. Please accept our labour and bless us for next year.” The words were carefully monotonous as each child tried hard to remember what they’d learnt. You bite your lip to prevent the smile that wants to leave as some of them mess up their words but overall, it’s good and you feel unbelievable pride at them all.

Once done, they look at you and burst into grins and cheers of excitement as you nod your head in satisfaction at them. Laughing finally, you crouch and accept all their hugs before watching as they rush off to find their parents. The noise level increases exponentially as everyone begins to celebrate finally. There are no more rituals to perform, just excitement and fun to be had.

Looking around the Grove, you take in everything for a second with a smile. The lanterns give everything a warm, friendly atmosphere as they bring an orange glow to the bark of the surrounding trees. Festive bunting strung from house to house and tree to tree flutter gently in the soft breeze. The scent of honey glazed pine nuts and hazelnut crusted apple slices dances through the air lazily, causing your stomach to rumble in anticipation.

The familiar outline of your younger brother catches your attention though, his sweet laugh reaching your ears as he hands Jiwon a strawprise. It was a terrible name that had been coined long ago by a travelling pixie who had introduced it to Appleseed Grove. Half a strawberry coated in a sticky honey glaze and grilled before being coated in orange peel. It was delicious and a favourite snack to enjoy when the weather was warm.

You’re not surprised to see your siblings together. They are twins after all. What’s even less of a surprise is the way Jimin’s eyes light up when he spots you, his smile growing even bigger and brighter.

Sighing deeply, you steel yourself as you realise this is going to be the moment. The moment that Jimin and Taehyung have been working towards. When they would finally reveal to you who your secret admirer was.

What they didn’t know though, was that Seokjin and you had been working on your own plan to ruin their own. Whether or not you’d manage to pull it off was an entirely different story. It all depended on if you could both act it out properly without hurting each other or anything.

You’d find out soon enough though. Jimin was herding Jiwon towards you and it was only when they started moving that you realised Seokjin and Taehyung had been there too, hidden by the pixies waiting to be served. Neither of them had noticed you yet, both talking to each other intently while nibbling on their snacks.

Scanning over Seokjin, your stomach flipped at the sight of him. He was beyond handsome, entering the realm of ethereal. How you’d ended up being the one to gain his affection was still a mystery. He made a striking figure against everyone else around him, his height equal to Taehyung’s but towering over your smaller siblings.

While you’d been busy with the children, he must have slipped off to clean up after harvesting as his broad shoulders were highlighted by the white, silk shirt he wore. A lean waist tapered into his dark brown trousers, showing off his long legs which ended in the elegant leather boots. But you mainly focused on his face, admiring how nature had been so kind and generous to him.

His peony pink lips were plush and plump, glistening from the sticky glaze of the maple treat he was eating and you knew from experience that they were just as soft as they looked. Pink hair looked almost artfully styled on top of his head, making his tan skin even richer in the low lights while his eyes were creased in happiness as he laughed at something Taehyung said.

You loved Seokjin’s eyes. Even before you’d started dating, you’d always thought he had the sweetest eyes. Gentle and kind yet intense as well, the long dark lashes that surrounded them giving him an even more dramatic look. Yes, nature had fallen in love with Seokjin and you couldn’t blame her.

When combined with his patient, kind and inquisitive nature, it was impossible to not fall in love with him.

Which was a thought for another day, as even you knew that it was far too soon to be thinking such big thoughts like that. Still, your wings fluttered in anticipation at the sight of him as you hoped they wouldn’t betray the fact you were happy. It wouldn’t do to let Jimin and Taehyung achieve their little goal.

It’s not long before they’re greeting you, joy-filled on all their faces and beating out the exhaustion of all the work from today. You’re careful to act very politely with Seokjin, hoping you two aren’t letting on that you’re a little closer than your siblings might realise. As far as they were aware, you two were only acquainted and didn’t particularly consider each other friends.

“You’re free for the night now, right?” Jimin asks, slinging his arm around your shoulders before squeezing tightly. Cringing from the tight embrace, you poke at his side until he’s yelping and pulling away with a pout before holding out the strawprise he’d brought over for you.

“Thank you. And yeah, I’m all done now. Everyone else finished?” You didn’t think anyone else had any other jobs to do tonight but you weren’t entirely sure given how busy you’d been arranging your own time. Everyone shakes their head, including Seokjin, and you smile at them all happily.

“Great, then we can all just enjoy the night. Did you all have a good day?” The five of you move off to find an empty spot of grass, close enough to the festivities to be able to see, hear and smell everything but far enough that you can all hear each other without having to shout. Fluttering your wings slightly, you shift until you’re comfortable with them before realising that Taehyung and Jimin had moved around until Seokjin was sitting next to you.

It took a surprising amount of effort on your behalf to not reach out and touch him, especially when he’d placed his hand so close to yours on the ground. From this angle, he almost glowed in the gentle lights and you wanted to just rest your chin on your knees and watch him, fascinated with how quickly you’d fallen for him.

A sudden tickling sensation against your highly sensitive wings has you stiffening with wide eyes, glancing behind quickly to spot Seokjin’s translucent wing resting against your own softly. Twinkles of pink dust mixed with your burnt orange to create a beautiful image and you bit your lip as you turned back around, pleased with the subtle physical affection he was giving you.

Your wings were the most sensitive part of you with each pixie taking plenty of care to look after them. They weren’t as fragile as they looked, but it was considered especially rude to touch another’s wings on purpose. That social norm changed when you were in a relationship though and it was considered more intimate.

No one could see what Seokjin had done, but it made your stomach feel warm and tingly. Hiding your smile behind the strawprise that you eat slowly, you listen to Jiwon and Jimin start to argue over who had picked the most blackberries today. They’d both been based in that field and as usual, it had turned into a competition.

The argument certainly wasn’t helped by Taehyung making inputs now and then, grinning when both twins glared at him for ruining their point. Finishing your snack, you sighed and shook your head at all three of the younger siblings.

“I swear, is it impossible for you three to be around without it devolving into bickering? I see fewer arguments from the children I teach than from you all.” Jimin sticks his tongue at you in what was a very mature move while Jiwon scrunches her face up. Chuckling at them both, you glance over at Seokjin with a raised brow.

“Hey, don’t look at me! Taehyung and I don’t fight all that often.” He says with a laugh, holding his hands up almost like he’s trying to protect himself. That gets a snort from Jimin who looks at the fruit pixie next to you sardonically.

“Please, you live to bicker with Tae! And that’s nothing compared to when you’re around Jungkook. The three of you together are even worse than Jiwon and me.” Seokjin’s ears turn a delightful shade of red at Jimin’s accusation and he splutters as he tries to reject it. Giggling, you reach out and brush the hair from his forehead affectionately before letting your fingers trail to his now hot ears.

“Are you serious?” Taehyung suddenly shouts, causing you to jump in surprise and look at him with wide eyes. Your expression quickly morphs from one of a shock to confusion given the dual looks of surprise mixed with consternation on both Jimin and him.

And then you realise what you’d just done. The overly affectionate physical affection you’d just given Seokjin in a very public environment when you weren’t an overly affectionate person in general. On top of that, Seokjin had accepted your touch without complaint and without flinching away, something he would have never done before you’d started a relationship.

“Oh, apple trees.” You curse, pressing the palm of your hand to your face as you realise that instead of Seokjin and you ruining their plan, instead, you’d ruined your plan to ruin their plan. All because you can’t keep your hands off the handsome pixie next to you.

The quiet sigh from your right lets you know that Seokjin has realised that the game is up too. Thankfully though, he doesn’t appear to be too bothered by it. Instead, he just takes the opportunity to take your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and giving you the softest smile that makes his eyes shine with happiness.

“You two are together?” Jimin asks, his eyes wide as they dart from Seokjin’s face to yours then to your hands and back again. It almost makes you laugh at how surprised he looks and you realise that you at least got some victory in that they didn’t get to do whatever they were planning. Maybe this was the better result anyway.

“Yes. We did want to let you two go ahead with whatever you were going to plan tonight and then ruin it all for you to make up for all the times that you’ve annoyed us but that hasn’t worked.” Sighing, you shuffle a little closer to Seokjin before resting your head on one of his delightfully broad shoulders. He smells just as good as he had this morning and you wish that it was just you two, enjoying each other’s company alone amidst the revelry from everyone.

“Wha...when...when did this happen?” Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to have that outraged tone to his voice, which makes you feel a little better really. As much as you liked him, it was nice to finally have the upper hand this time.

“A few weeks ago. I’d gone to the library to take a book back and talked to Seokjin, telling him about you two and my ‘secret admirer’. Obviously, my ‘secret admirer’ was worried about what you were going to do so came and confessed before you could embarrass him. Or me.” Glancing up at Seokjin, you note his ears are going red again and smile softly, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek.

“We wouldn’t have embarrassed you…” Your younger brother trails off but his awkward expression catches him out, letting you know that they were probably planning exactly that. It’s made even worse by the way Jiwon snorts and rolls her eyes, pushing at Jimin’s shoulder hard.

“Liar, I’ve heard you two. I’m glad you spoiled it,” She grins at you before clapping her hands together in excitement, pure happiness shining from her as she looks you both over. “You’re so cute together!”

Now it’s your turn to feel shy and you press your face into Seokjin’s shirt, causing his chest to rumble as he laughs quietly. Letting go of your hand, he wraps his arm around your waist while carefully avoiding your wings, gently stroking your side in reassurance.

“Wonnie! Why do you always give up so easily?” Jimin pouts, his lower lip pushing out further than you’ve seen it lately while his eyes go wide and glassy at her. It has zero effect on his twin sister though who just sighs heavily before pushing him hard enough to have him falling over.

“I don’t give up easily, I just know when to not make a fool of myself.” She points out, crossing her arms and ignoring her brother’s attempts to get back in her good books. Taehyung doesn’t even try, just looking both Seokjin and you over carefully before sighing and nodding slowly.

“Okay, you ruined our plans. But it doesn’t matter anyway. You’ve done what I wanted, which is you started my big bro!” Now he’s giving you that trademark boxy smile, his excitement almost palpable as he wiggles in place. Watching him with a raised brow, you look up at Seokjin for potential advice but he just shrugs, obviously used to Taehyung’s changing moods.

“You’re not...mad?”

“Of course I’m not! I kept hinting it because I wanted you to date him. I know I can be annoying but I’m not cruel. I knew Seokjinnie had a big crush on you and he’d be good for you. So I don’t care that our plan failed because I still achieved my goal. Now you just gotta marry.” That has Seokjin spluttering, coughing up the honey water he’d been sipping at carefully until you’re patting his back in amusement.

“Steady, steady.” You murmur to him, trying not to laugh at the aghast way he looks at Taehyung. Eyes flickering over to Jimin, you watch as your own younger brother gets that look in his eyes that says he’s already planning mischief and you sigh deeply.

“You two are having nothing to do with any potential future engagement, do you hear me? Let us be for a while!” You curse at them both, shaking your fist and making Jiwon chuckle. Looking at her, she holds her hands up to placate you while shaking her head.

“Hey! I’m not getting involved in this so don’t get mad at me!” She pleads and you look away from her, lifting a brow as you look from Taehyung to Jimin carefully. Neither of them says anything but you note with a sinking feeling that they’ve both got those carefully neutral expressions painted on their faces.

The expressions that say they’re going to get up to something.

Almost immediately you stand, pulling Seokjin up with almost pure strength while you point at the two mischief-makers with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even think about it. Let us just enjoy the fact that we’re together, do you understand? And don’t you dare pressure Seokjin into anything!”

Grabbing Seokjin’s hand, you quickly walk away through the crowd before you can hear either of their protestations that they wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing. Seokjin doesn’t say anything either, just letting you lead him between people while you both ignore the fact that your obvious closeness was making subtle waves throughout.

Everyone knew everyone in Appleseed after all, so it wasn’t surprising that people noted your newfound affection towards the librarian. Thankfully though, no one was too inclined to say anything and just let you both go until you were on the other side of the grove, close to the aviary.

The soft cooing of the birds as they settled down for the night complemented the now subdued noises from the festival, letting you both feel like you were still part of everything while giving you both your own space. Leaning back against the fence, you carefully shift your wings over the top until they’re resting carefully before letting out a deep sigh that quickly evolves into a groan.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Seokjin cuts you off with a fingertip to your lips, an equally gentle smile on his own as he looks down at you fondly. The lighting isn’t as great here but he still looks beautiful.

“It’s okay Honestly, I’m not the best actor so I wasn’t looking forward to trying to keep a straight face. I’m glad we just got it out there.” His voice is calm and you can tell he’s genuinely not upset at you ruining the plan, perhaps even relieved that you can now both just be together without any of the cloak and dagger behaviour you’ve both been doing.

Although it has been fun to feel young again when you slunk around like you were trying to avoid your parents.

“Yeah...me too. Now we can just...be together. Normally and in the open.” You grin up at him before wrapping your arms around his waist, enjoying the way he feels so solid beneath your hands. Resting your chin on his chest, you close your eyes and simply take in a deep breath, enjoying how peaceful and calm everything seems to be at this moment. How much you just enjoy being around Seokjin, something you hadn’t even realised until you’d started dating.

“You’re happy, right?” Seokjin asks quietly, resting his cheek on your head while his arms come to embrace you around your shoulders. Nodding against him, you give him an affirmative noise as well, unwilling to ruin the moment.

You don’t need him to tell you that he feels the same. The way his arms tighten around you and the soft kiss he presses to your forehead lets you know, causing you to smile as you simply enjoy the moment while the rest of Appleseed Grove celebrates around you.

Despite the annoyance you’d felt at both Taehyung and Jimin only a few months ago with their secret admirer nonsense, you owed them for the fact that Seokjin had finally gotten the courage to tell you his true feelings. Not that you’d ever let them know that of course. But most of all, you were just thankful that Seokjin had decided to come forward.

You may have only been with him for a few weeks now, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without the beautiful fruit pixie in it anymore.

1K notes · View notes

nurgletwh · 4 years ago

Note

If you do decide you want prompts in the end — I adore the way you write Ogrim and Quirrel interacting, and something fluffy from their younger days could be fun!

Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid

- - -

Summary

Ogrim is handed an assignment in theoretical diplomacy and practical investigation, recruiting his best friend for assistance.

- - -

This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, although it set approximately fifteen years before the Hollow Knight is Sealed in the Black Egg Temple (rather than the in-game time that the other works are currently set in). This is complete and utter silliness with a side of nonsense, but it technically canon for my universe. xD

- - -

Ogrim

- - -

Ogrim snickers as he walks down the hallway through the White Palace. This is going to be fun. The Pale King had given him a faint smile when Ogrim had laughed at the assignment, and stated that he expected his orders to be followed implicitly.

Snickering again, he rounds a corner and heads out across a courtyard. He grins and waves at the two guards on duty, who nod back as he passes by. Reaching the other side, he crosses another hallway and heads through an archway to head down the sweeping stairs circling a fountain. He beams as he catches sight of Isma, waving when she notices him bounding down the stairs.

He diverts from his intended destination to greet her. She’s on duty, so he nods as he steps up beside her.

She smiles back as she finishes up her current discussion, and he waves at Lorial as they take their leave.

“Alright, spill it. What has you grinning like a fool?” she asks him with a smirk.

“I have an assignment. From the king!”

She turns to face him, one hand on her hip, the other on her chin as she gives him a mock once-over.

“That generally isn’t a cause for glee,” she says. “Frustration, yes. Curiosity, yes. Dread, frequently. Are you certain you are feeling well?”

She steps over and places a hand against his cheek. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.”

Ogrim chuckles as she stretches up to look into his eyes. “Your eyes might have a little extra gleam, but I diagnose mischief and not illness.”

He laughs and captures her hand for a moment, squeezing gently before releasing it. “Ah, Isma! The glee is not only due to the assignment, but also because of what it is, who it is for, and whom I am going to rope into helping.”

She snorts. “This should be entertaining. I’ll bite, who’s it for and what are you going to be doing?”

He pulls a folded letter out of his armor with a broad grin. “The Pale King has, and I quote, ‘no clue’ what Lord Furzkopf is trying to locate. I can only imagine how many questions he had to ask; see for yourself!”

Isma shakes her head as she takes the letter, and he smiles, bouncing on his feet as he waits for her to get to the best parts.

He sees her eyes widen, and she gasps, “No!”

“Oh, yes!” he says, knowing she has only made it about halfway through.

She snorts, and jams her hand against her mouth as her eyes crinkle up in glee. He watches as her shoulders start shaking, and she finally bursts out laughing as she reaches the end.

“Stars above, Ogrim! Are you certain the Pale King didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get Lord Furzkopf to describe!?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “I am not! That makes it so much more exquisitely wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, gods, Ogrim. I don’t know which to hope for. Lord Furzkopf is an ass and this?” She waves the letter back and forth. “Knowing he had to describe this in such particular detail is a joy unto itself. Because you just know, whether the Pale King knew what was being described or not, he would have taken these notes with exactly the same intensity.” She grins at him. “Lord Furzkopf would have no way to know for sure if it was sincere ignorance, and I’m sure our king just kept asking in that deeply focused way he has.”

She starts snickering. “Not that I didn’t already know who you were going to be grabbing to help from the bounce in your step, but for once I completely agree. This is right up his alley, and one should always consult with the appropriate experts.”

“I am glad we are in agreement!” Ogrim laughs, and Isma smiles at him as it echoes around the fountain courtyard.

Her eyes crinkle and she captures his claw in her hand, squeezing lightly as she says, “Enjoy your assignment, I’ll see you this evening.”

He takes the letter as she hands it back, touching her face lightly with his claw before stepping back to give her a small bow. “As always, my lady,” he says softly.

She scoffs, but he sees the faint flush of white as she turns away, and smiles.

Time to go find his victim… er, partner.

- - -

Ogrim strides through the barracks, grinning widely. It’s late enough in the afternoon that the second shift is waking up, and he watches bleary-eyed guards stumbling around as they try and get enough stimulants into their systems to begin functioning for their day.

He knocks on one of the doors towards the end of a hallway, eliciting a quiet groan and “Go ’way!” from within.

He chuckles and knocks again, eliciting further incoherent mumbles. Figuring he’s given plenty of warning, he opens the door and walks in with a bright “Good morning!” as he heads for the window.

“Gods, Ogrim, what do you wa—don’t you f—argh!!” comes from the bed as he gets to the window and opens the blinds.

Turning towards the bed, Ogrim is greeted with, “You ass!” and he laughs.

“No, my friend!” he says, as he heads towards the bed. “This makes me an ass!” he says as he grabs a corner of the top blanket and yanks it away, uncovering the bugs hidden beneath.

The larger of the two bugs ducks and hides against the pillbug, who puts his arm over them as he glares blearily at Ogrim.

Ogrim smiles and retreats to lean against the desk. “How’d you get Galien out of here? He seems fundamentally incapable of condoning transgressions.”

“Ugh; you would be correct. I found him a date of his own, that’s how.”

Ogrim snorts. “Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult.”

Quirrel sighs, hugging his bedmate and whispering something to them. They relax, but don’t uncurl from their position of hiding.

“No, not particularly. It was more a matter of getting things moving along in such a way that he wouldn’t be here, which meant arranging for Delian’s roommate to be somewhere else, which meant… you get the idea, I’m sure,” Quirrel says.

“I most certainly do,” Ogrim chuckles. “You can be quite determined to entertain your companions. How on earth do you manage not to get caught?”

The companion in question flinches, and Quirrel says, “Technically, we just got caught, didn’t we?”

“True enough! However, in the grand tradition that has existed for centuries, since I am not your direct superior or even their direct superior, I don’t actually have to cope with this particular aspect of your shenanigans.”

Quirrel snorts, getting up onto one elbow and then leaning over his companion again, whispering to them. They shake their head, and he chuckles softly as he kisses their cheek and hums quietly. Pushing himself up and over, he deftly snags the blanket back and throws it over them, once again hiding them as he stands up.

“And for what glorious reason am I being subjected to your over-cheerful presence?” Quirrel asks.

“Ahhh, that’s the joy! Although the orders are to be kept quiet, so I’ll meet you in the commissary in five minutes, and we can head back to one of the offices from there.” Ogrim snickers. “It was lovely seeing your carapace, Miranda.”

The lump under the blanket twitches, and she throws the blanket back to glare at him.

Smiling at her, Ogrim sketches a small bow as Quirrel glances at the ceiling and shakes his head.

Ogrim stands up, calling back as he leaves the room, “Five minutes! Don’t be late!”

- - -

Having located a small empty conference room, Ogrim holds the letter aloft. “We are to locate a missing possession, as requested by the Pale King.”

Quirrel looks at the letter dubiously. “The Pale King has lost something, and – out of all the available options –” he waves his hand around in a vague circle, “he asked you?”

Ogrim shakes his head with a snort. “No. A visitor has lost something, claims it has been stolen.”

“I’m still stuck at the Pale King having asked you.”

“My heart weeps at your lack of faith!”

“Ogrim, the Pale King has at his disposal the entirety of the Guards, including the Investigators. Your job, last I looked, was to beat shit up, not find shit.”

Ogrim chuckles. “Ah, but you see, this visitor has requested… let me think… how was it put.” Ogrim thinks for a moment before continuing, “requested ‘the utmost delicacy and discretion regarding the item that was lost.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms and give Ogrim a flat look. “Now I am definitely calling stagshit. Unless the Pale King has suddenly become feeble-minded and forgetful?”

“My friend! I am hurt – nay, wounded – that you would question my ability to be quiet and careful!”

“…right.”

Quirrel ducks forward, snatches the letter, and opens it to start reading.

After a few seconds Quirrel asks, “So who is this theoretical illustrious guest that has not only managed to lose this whatever, but has the clout, courage, or outright idiocy to actually ask the king to be personally involved in the hunt for a thief or – far more likely, knowing most of the nobility – find it wherever they… uh…”

He stumbles into silence, and Ogrim starts grinning.

Quirrel boggles at the letter, bringing his other hand up to feel it and no doubt check to make sure it is real. He flips it over and looks at the back, then goes back to staring at what has been written.

He finally looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes.

“Nice forgery. There is absolutely no way that you of all people were asked to investigate this as a favor requiring ‘discretion and delicacy.’”

“I assure you; it is quite real! And I was specifically requested by the Pale King to investigate this in ‘my usual thorough fashion.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms as he stares at Ogrim. “You. He requested you.” Ogrim beams. “My friend, you are a wonderful person, but you don’t have a single fiber of discretion anywhere within you. Every single rumor in this place makes it to you, through you, and is redistributed by you with extreme glee. Everyone knows this. The Pale King holds himself above most things, but he is not unobservant; he is, in fact, quite the opposite. This is not something he doesn’t know. And you are trying to tell me he specifically requested you to find this!?”

“Yep!”

“Does he know you are recruiting me?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel stares at him in silence, and Ogrim smirks back; he was right – this is fun!

“…I suppose the only person I could ask to get confirmation of the assignment is the Pale King?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel slaps the letter against the middle of Ogrim’s chest with a groan, and Ogrim grunts as he grabs it. Most definitely fun!

“Who asked for this help?”

Ogrim grins broadly. “Lord Furzkopf.”

Quirrel stares at him, his whole posture lighting up with unholy glee as the situation finally sinks in.

“You don’t say,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I most certainly do.”

“Utmost discretion,” he purrs.

“Indeed.”

“As provided by one of the Great Knights themselves.”

“You are now seeing the picture!”

Quirrel laughs. “I am indeed, my friend; I am indeed!” He points at the letter and asks, “We get to go interview the victim, I hope?”

“Last I knew, the proper investigative protocol involves verifying the witness statement by any investigator taking over the lead on an investigation.”

“Wonderful. It is a lovely day to be a horrible investigator, is it not?”

“It has turned into one,” Ogrim snickers as he grabs Quirrel’s shoulder. “I trust you can ask the appropriate questions and not giggle? Because there is no way I will make it through this interview.”

Laughing, Quirrel grabs the letter again. “My friend, if Lord Furzkopf stammered through this description of his ‘enhancement aid’ as awkwardly as this letter indicates, while the Pale King laughed his metaphorical ass off behind the guise of a sincere desire to properly ensure his investigators can find the item in question? I am going to assume I have implicit permission to bring the full force of what I am so well known for to bear, in the same way that your discretion is implicitly understood.”

“It is good to see you understand what the Pale King desires from this investigation! Shall we go find Lord Furzkopf?”

Grinning, Quirrel nods as he hands the letter back. Ogrim tucks the letter into his armor and heads out the door, Quirrel following behind.

- - -

They find the Lord in question lounging in one of the gardens, entertaining himself by attempting to… flirt with one of the gardeners working nearby. She looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes with a pained expression. He nods at her as he says, “You’re excused for now, Gaiea. We need to speak with Lord Furzkopf privately.”

“Yes, of course,” she says as she dumps her tools haphazardly into her bucket.

Lord Furzkopf sputters as she stands. “Now just wait a minute! We were having a friendly discussion and we weren’t done; you can’t just interrupt like that!”

Quirrel steps around Ogrim’s side, breaking into Furzkopf’s line of sight to Gaiea as he says, “We are here regarding your missing figurine?” He turns and blasts a charming smile at Gaiea, who has just stuffed her rags over the top of her tools and is ready to flee. “I’m certain she would love to stay here with you and offer comfort.”

Ogrim sees her grip the handle of the bucket and worries that she is ready to chuck it at his friend. Quirrel turns a little further – making sure Furzkopf can’t see – and starts to sign something Ogrim can’t see either.

Furzkopf shakes his head and says, “Figurine?”

Gaiea relaxes as Quirrel signs, so Ogrim turns to Furzkopf and says, “Yes, the one you reported missing to the Pale King. We have some questions about the descri—”

“Oh!! That figurine, yes, quite so! No, my dear, no need to fuss about this, I’ll be simply fine; don’t you worry!”

Ogrim turns back to see Gaiea shake her head, and Quirrel turns to speak to Furzkopf again. “Are you certain? I can see how losing such a precious item would be hard to bear, how you might need a hand to hold in your time of need. Ogrim can go ask—”

“I am absolutely certain that I can remain… strong during these trying times, there is no need to go to all of this fuss! She may go!”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, and turns back to Gaiea to bow slightly as he says, “Your time will not be required today, thank you for your enduring patience.”

She scoffs quietly and returns the bow before fleeing down the path.

Quirrel waits until she’s disappeared around one of the trees before turning back to Furzkopf. He holds his hand out to Ogrim as he says, “I just have a few questions about your descriptions.”

Ogrim pulls the letter out and hands it over.

“Are you certain that there is suitable privacy here?” Furzkopf asks, his voice quavering.

Quirrel looks around, startled. “You didn’t seem to think there would be an issue in what you were suggesting Gaiea do for you, I don’t see how this is any different. This is fairly secluded, as you were mentioning.”

Ogrim almost snickers, but catches himself. Quirrel had heard what the ass had been suggesting; good. Ogrim had been planning on making sure that she didn’t need to work anywhere near this end of the palace for the rest of the week – and he still will – but getting Quirrel worked up would generate additional solutions that were usually far more entertaining.

What Ogrim can do is make sure the White Lady is aware she needs to temporarily double or triple the garden staff, so that the seclusion is no longer available.

“I… suppose, if you are confident we won’t be interrupted?”

Quirrel shrugs and gestures around vaguely without saying anything.

“Go ahead then.”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, unfolding the letter. “From your description, this novelty figurine is made from gold, onyx, and emerald?”

“I made it very clear what the materials were when describing it, I don’t know why you need to be asking me this again!”

“It’s standard procedure, my lord. Please bear with me, I know it can be quite hard. From these notes, I understand that it’s about this long?” Quirrel asks as he holds his hands a little ways apart.

“Not quite, well, more like this,” and Furzkopf holds his hands apart, but much closer together – although they keep wavering about, refusing to settle on a specific distance.

“Ahhh, ok, I’ll note that then. Accuracy is important.”

“I’m sure, quite sure, yes.”

Quirrel skims down the notes again, tapping his finger near the bottom of the letter. “Is this a downward or upward version?”

“…I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Quirrel looks up at Furzkopf, innocently puzzled. “Do you put it in upwards or downwards?”

“This isn’t… it doesn’t go into me anywhere!”

Ogrim nearly gasps, trying to keep from laughing. He grabs his claws together behind his back, and stares off into the trees just over Quirrel’s head. He knew he had chosen the right bug for the job.

“Really?” Quirrel looks back at the letter. “This description is fairly straightforward for a standard model. Barring the materials involved, I don’t see anything particularly special about it.”

Lord Furzkopf stares at Quirrel, speechless.

“You have the hinged version, which I must say is a wyrm to keep clean – honestly, I’m impressed by your dedication on that front – and the little protrusions are definitely a bonus in my experience—” Quirrel has taken to moving his hands as he describes the… novelty figurine in question, demonstrating the various… options he is describing “—but being made from metal and stone means that it will stay cold for quite a while. Which in itself can be quite pleasurable, but… well, that’s a whole different topic, of course.” He looks up and smiles at Furzkopf, holding his hand out slightly, palm up.

“Of course,” Furzkopf whispers.

“Regardless, I suppose whether it goes upwards—” Quirrel curls his fingers up and then tweaks his wrist to rock them forward as Furzkopf watches, stunned, “—or downward—” Furzkopf whimpers as Quirrel rotates his hand and curls his fingers again, providing another helpful demonstration, “—doesn’t matter so much as we search. Hmmm. Where was the last place you saw it?”

“Ahhh, that would be in my rooms of course,” he says faintly.

Quirrel skims the letter and nods. “You wouldn’t have happened to take it with you while visiting Vashnia?”

Ogrim looks at Quirrel. That wasn’t in the letter. He knew Furzkopf was doing his level best to get into Vashnia’s bed, but in addition to his naturally repellant personality, he continued to harass anything that moved in an attempt to get it to move on him. Last he knew, Vashnia wouldn’t do much more than taunt him.

Quirrel is assiduously reading the note, as if the answer to his questions were present somewhere within. Which they are not, because Ogrim has re-read the note several times in absolute amazement.

“…I perhaps may have happened to have it in my robes when she suggested we have drinks, to show her, you know, simply as an amusement of course.”

Quirrel nods, “Of course, as one does.”

“Yes! As one does, certainly there was nothing meant by it at all!”

“Well, it obviously means something, or we wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would we?” Quirrel says, looking up and smiling brightly.

“No, of course not… I mean yes, it does!”

“Right! Thank you for your time, Lord Furzkopf. I believe we have enough information to get a firm grasp on the situation. We will be sure to keep you updated of any changes or progress. Have a nice day!”

“Yes, of course, please do that,” Furzkopf replies weakly.

Absolutely positive he won’t be able to say anything without laughing, Ogrim simply nods his head at Furzkopf, and follows Quirrel out of the gardens.

- - -

“I’m going to shove his novelty figurine into him sideways,” Quirrel growls once they are out of earshot.

Ogrim grabs his shoulder and shoves him into one of the sheds, wedging the door shut behind him.

“No, you will not.”

Quirrel glares at him, crossing his arms.

“Vashnia knows how to handle creeps like him, she’s been doing it for years. He’s making a fool of himself.”

Quirrel snorts. “And Gaiea?”

Ogrim gives him a tight smile. “The White Lady will have a report of my observations by the end of today. I know she’s been lightly monitoring him; it won’t be so light after this.”

“Good.”

He stares at Ogrim for several moments before grinning. “I know where his blasted novelty figurine is, by the way.”

Ogrim laughs, and grabs his shoulder. “I was wondering! I take it Vashnia has it?”

Quirrel nods with a snicker. “Miranda is her cousin, and has been staying with her the last few weeks. Vashnia has taken to spiking his drinks and then flirting with him shamelessly.” He gestures back towards the gardens with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the side-effect of that frustration seems to be an increase in his harassment of others. My guess is that the White Lady missed it simply because it’s only stepped up in the last two or so days. Your report may not surprise her all that much, to be honest. Her staff seem quite comfortable reporting up to their supervisors, it may just have been the normal delay of bureaucracy in inaction.”

Ogrim scoffs. “That doesn’t help Gaiea much.”

Quirrel grins wickedly. “Gaiea was armed with trowels, at least two pruning shears, a turning fork, and a trimming saw. Two of those items you never saw, because she had tucked them into her shell when he started getting suggestive. She’s strong, she’s fast, and volunteered to be the one in his presence today. If he’d done more than talk – which is all he’s ever done, according to Miranda – he would have been missing parts faster than you or I could see.”

Ogrim stares at him.

“My friend, never piss off a gardener. They have tools and chemicals, and are not afraid to use them.”

Ogrim shakes his head. “Duly noted.”

Quirrel snickers. “Let’s go talk to Vashnia and see what her plans were for this… toy, because I’m guessing it’s far more entertaining than anything either of us could come up with.”

Grinning, Ogrim follows his friend out of the shed and into the palace.

- - -

Several days later, an interesting novelty figurine was found in the hallway outside of Lord Furzkopf’s door, laying as if dropped from the pocket of a robe.

The cleaning staff considerately placed it on a towel and gave it to the serving staff, who placed on his tray as they brought him breakfast, lying beside his fork and knife.

- - -

Do a Google Translate on Furzkopf. ;-)

#my fic #hollow knight #ogrim (hollow knight)#isma (hollow knight)#quirrel (hollow knight)#fanfic #hollow knight fanfic

20 notes · View notes

writing-frenzy · 5 years ago

Text

Airplane gets Ghosted~

Brain: :D

Me: Oh no, what did you do.

Brain: Let’s make another Airplane Harem~

Me. 🥺 why are you like this?!

Note: Inspired by A Crowd of Evil Spirits Lines Up to Confess to Me; pretty funny horror unlimited flow story, with some good scares that leave ya at the edge of your seat. (I really love the Protagonist, so good and pure and I headcannon as Aro-Ace~) So anyways, for those who don’t know, in the novel, the Protagonist Gu Wuji is a genuinely good person, an aspiring actor on hard times who suddenly gets pulled into this horror survival game. Here is the thing; while for others this is a truly cursed and terrible thing, for the protag this is just a regular day, just with some people who need some help; he will help Ghosts just as much as he would help a human.

Ghost: *being Scary*

Gu Wuji: Oh no, let me help you? *smiles*

Ghost: *either a blushing mess, happy to be helped, or can feel how strong this human is and is the one scared instead*

So yeah, here this man goes, bewitching everyone he meets, especially terrifying Ghosts who want him to die so they can stay together forever 🙃 Lucky he is so charming, and that with every Instance cleared, he can get points to get items and information/hints from the store.

And then I though about Airplane being in this position and I just grinned.

So, to preface this, I’m going to go on how I think Airplane has been raised in this AU.

Basically, since our favorite writer was young, Airplane was pretty much raised by ghosts. With two increasingly furious and arguing parents who couldn’t care less about him, they don’t notice at all how weird their kid is, not wanting to be reminded of old memories. So thus start’s Airplane’s growing up more comfortable with the headless car-crash victim who helps him know when his bullies are around then actual living people who only seem to try and tear each other apart more then most dead ever want to. Not to say he hasn’t met some mean dead too, but all they seem to care about is just scaring him off so they can be alone. Which, fair.

Just... Airplane is still Airplane, but for him, normal is dealing with the Ghostly Neighbor who will at least hear him out most of the time, especially since most Living people are assholes.

(Also, Airplane will have some of the strength that Gu Wuji is known for, but he mostly just has a really good head for intelligence, logistics, plots, and strategy... Let’s just say Airplane has seen and been through some shit in his younger years.)

I am also being a gremlin and making Shen Jiu and Yue Qi be the friends Airplane makes in middle school, Shen Jiu being superstitious as fuck and Yue Qi going along with it, even as he because more WTF the longer they are friends with Airplane and fully realize ‘Shit, ghost are fucking real, nope, nope, nope.’ It is a beautiful, disaster of a trio and their friendship is eternal... (even if Shen Jiu will never forgive/hold over Yue Qi for leaving him with the ghost in the fucking burned down Mansion, even if Airplane fixed it; apparently it had something to do with their previous incarnations?)

So yeah, these guys are released out into the world, where Airplane writes really good, if bloody dramas, asking his Ghost Friends if he can use some of their stories and them either not caring or excited as they give him the go ahead. (The Police have some questions...)

Sure, he writes some bad porn on the side, but with some of his Ghost friends able to beta read for him, Airplane is able to stay a float nice and easy, if still anxious every time he has to pay the rent because human interaction is so hard when you’re dealing with the living. (Don’t have to worry about meeting someone’s eyes if they’re gouged out after all)

And then we get to the Instances :) (Now, besides the first one that does happen First, these others could happen with one or two between them.)

First Instance(Novice): The Traitor’s Secret~

The fresh new Players, with some older ones here, is part of a Merchant Caravan that they just have to ensure gets from point A to point B, and just live. Simple mission as this is a Novice Instance for innocents pulled in. And it would have even remained a simple one, only having to deal with the wondering dead that are manageable, as they have plenty of supplies to ration and work with, if one of the Older Players wasn’t here with ulterior motives.

See, this ‘Senior’ managed to buy information that there is a great item that can be obtained; the thing is, one must betray their comrades in order to get it, with the first betrayal making the difficulty rise from the Novice to Intermediate immediately, as this as awakened a terrible Boss.

It probably would have gone smoothly (maybe....) but here is the thing.

As it turns out, ‘Senior’ didn’t buy enough information; after The First Betrayal, the Boss Ghost will sneakily become a part of the Party, acting much like a helpful NPC when really he is a trap; if the Betrayer betrays him, it is game over.

But the game is different this time; No one expects Airplane, who has the ability and instincts of a cockroach who was completely willing to hug a Ghost’s (well, NPC’s) thighs

Cue Shang Qinghua who is very confused, because after he sneakily becomes part of the group, this human has decided to cling to him of all people, the Creepy/Grumpy NPC, and not his fellow group members...

Airplane grows on SQH like a fugus, makes amazingly funny commentary, and even tells some interesting stories. On Airplane’s part, Shang Qinghua feels not only like the strongest guy here, but also the most reliably competent...

Not to mention he feels comfortable to be around, which is weird since Airplane doesn’t usually feel to comfortable with the living~ (ha ha ha, maybe because he’s a NPC? Though he still freezes with those guys too...)

As it is, because ‘Senior’ needs to betray everyone, he tries to get Airplane, who, again, is still a very, very morally ambiguous guy, sees this guy trying to kill him, and simply pushes them instead into a throng of the undead.

Airplane: Ah, sorry for the terrible sight Senior brother, but he was trying to kill us? Are you alright? Do you want a massage?

Shang Qinghua is incredulous, but becomes more charmed as time passes.

(Remembers, how his martial brothers, people who he had lived and worked beside all his life, so easily sold him out, trying to kill him only for him to suffer a fate worse then death. It was only so much time was passed, after having to spy and betray those who betrayed him before he finally had the release of death; but even then, his resentment was too strong, even the blood sealed onto his jade hairpin filled with resentment.)

It is this item he gives to Airplane, blushing as he does as he says if the other ever needs help, to just use the pin and it won’t lead him wrong.

When Airplane leaves the instance, he gets a system notice about the points he got, increased because of the Instance’s sudden level increase, as well as information on the item he received from Shang Qinghua

Shang Qinghua’ Hairpin: A Hairpin with deadly secrets, belong to A Spy with a vast network of information, be able to uncover hidden secrets with ease and learn anything you wish of with loyal shades at your command,

Level One: Summon two shades to gather information. (Each level up gets you another shade to do your bidding)

(He only has the information from level one, but once he levels it up, this is what else it can do)

Level 3: Your shades can now help you escape dicey situations

Level 5: Able to uncover the deadly poison hidden in the hollow of it, this deadly substance can poison Living and Dead both

Level: 7: Able to use the Hairpin like a deadly knife, the resentment enriching the wood to be harder and sharper then ever before.

(Past Level Seven, must full on stab someone in a vital place to discover this ability: Able to release one ensured fatal attack from the Hairpin; after that, it will continue to drop to a fifty-fity chance and before renewing each Instance.)

Level 10: be able to summon Shang Qinghua, the deadly competent Spy to your side to aid you; note, he will only help as much as he likes you and you are only truly safe from him for an Hour before he gets free range to do whatever he wants.

So yeah. this is Airplane’s first instance~ It was so terrifying, having to be around so many people and freaky monsters, but he thinks he made a friend? He hopes?

(He certainly gets one heck of an admirer.)(¬‿¬)

Second Instance(Novice): The Healer’s Broken Heart

So, next Instance, Airplane finds himself in an ancient, fantasy hospital with a group half novices and novices who at least survived two or three games after this. The challenge this time is two pair up into teams of two or threes and try and treat as many ‘patients’ in the hospital as one can. First, they have to collect all the medicine they need, prepare the Nursing rooms, and then, of course, treat at least five patients each, or face death for failing.

See, the patients are sorta, kinda, Undead they need to treat as if they were living, so they Have to do things like bandaging sliced throats, sew back on sliced limbs, and drain puss and other gross gory things to give nightmares. Not to mention that they have to follow regular rules like in most hospitals, so no running in the hall, no loud sounds, things like that when their are Ghosts everywhere. (As long as someone doesn’t break the rules, the Ghosts won’t notice you.)

As Airplane is a nervous wreck around people, and with this being a bad day for his anxiety, no one but one guy is willing to partner up with him, this gentle, sweet guy called Mu Fan, who’s amazing chill affects Airplane’s own chill and helps him feel a little better about the situation.

Ha~ Mu Fan is so nice and even knows so much about all the medicines and what to do here! He’s even helpful and nice when Airplane was about to have an anxiety attack, following what Airplane warned him about not touching him, but if he could, maybe hum if he could?

Of course Airplane can’t just let the other carry him the entire way! Mu Fan is just too nice and really helped him back there, so he wants to pay back at least a little. So, being this disaster that he is, instead of thanking Mu Fan and asking him if their is anyways to pay him back, Airplane uses his Hairpin instead to see if he could help the other out.

He gets an... interesting reaction...

Apparently, Mu Fan is actually Mu Qingfang, a Boss Ghost (tho Airplane only knows the other is a ghost) of this area, who can be activated in some ways; examples, if the Players try and hurt the Patients, if Players try and kill each other in cold blood, or try and steal Medicine. Mu Qingfang’s most sincere wish is to free his patients from this cycle of pain, hopefully be free from it for good.

This is the information that Airplane gets, what Mu Qingfang has been trying to discover for years with no luck.

Airplane: QAQ Mu Qingfang is truly too good, too pure for this world, wanting to help the other ghost past on and be out of pain.

On Mu Qingfang’s part, he saw this poor, distressed man and the doctor instincts in him went on fire as he did his best to help the other with their heart demons. But he was really, extremely impressed by them with how they treated his patients, taking care of their wounds like it was nothing, joking with the decapitated head as he sewed it back on, getting a breathless laugh from the woman as she cried happy tears from it. The doctor went really gooey though with how Airplane spellbound his audience of twins who needed to be separated after their parent had sown them together, the two young (very creepy as fuck) children begging for more, distracting from the pain of having to reattach their arms in the right places one more.

(Tries not to cry when this disaster of a Man says he has to do something first before he leaves after he finishes the five patients, only to bring a true gift back as he does. Mu Qingfang has nearly given up on his poor patients ever being free from this constant cycle of pain, their Bandit Killers, for such a small, evil group, never brought to justice only for Airplane to catch them all, bringing them to the hospital so that all their grievances can be aired out and payed back once and for all. It took a bit, and Airplane accidently raised the Level of the Instance himself this time doing it, but he got all the baddies round up and incapacitated as he did.)

Mu Qingfang is ever so grateful, even as Airplane offers to help the man finish up here before he leaves, the last doctor’s visit these ghost will ever need to have. He blesses Airplane with a powerful healing ability, along with a Doctor’s kit that is full of useful supplies, refilling ever day if needed.)

So, Airplane is back in his space, cleaning his hands and body because that was still gross (but not the worse thing he has dealt with) with new points and some good prizes once more, even if he isn’t sure why the level went up all of a sudden? The Bandits honestly weren’t that hard to trick and sabotage?

Mu Qingfang’s Medical Bag

Basically, like the Hairpin, full of goodies that can do more and more OP things the higher the Level it goes (and yes, has a secret poison function as well; Now Shang Qinghua can refill the Hairpin if he ever need to :D And yes, Mu Qingfang can be summoned with an Item in the bag once he gets to Level Ten..

Same with the Healing ability, it just gets more OP the higher the level, tho it doesn’t have a summoning ability, but will let you heal others as much as you want at Level Ten

So thus, this is Airplane’s second Ghost ‘Friend’~ (〃￣︶￣)人(￣︶￣〃)

Instance Three (Intermediate): Guards of The Icy Village

So, Airplane is confident in himself, seeing as he’s managed Instances that go from Novice to Intermediate all the time, thinks ‘why not try an Intermediate, since my Novice experience will probably turn out like that anyways? (the fact that all the choices he has left are either Intermediate or Hard does not matter!)

Looking through his choices, he see a Limited Event One, with a Special Link to it; not knowing what this means but being effected by the Limited deal, he picks it.

(What this means is that there will be an Event in this Instance that will literally only be open this one time and can not be done ever again; Special Link Means that this Event will and can effect in even Higher Level Instances in the Future, depending on how Many +’s are in the title of it.)

This Event has a Max Number of +’s :)

So, he picks his choice and finds himself in this beautiful Icy wonderland with a group of other people. Everyone has to be set into teams here, guarding the snow village from evil spirits and monsters that would prey on it for five days and five nights. And because I want to, Airplane has been teamed up with Gongyi Xiao, Qin Wanrong, Qin Wanyue, and Qiu Haitang. As long as they protect their part of the Village, they will be able to pass the Instance and everything will be swell

(Is this me indulging in having some badass girls, and letting these characters not only get some damn scene time, but be able to be happy and live? Yes, yes it is, because let me explore these guys in this traumatic AU where they have to do all they can to live, and still be able to trust to have each other’s backs dang it)

So, the Huan Hua High Schooler group have already been through two instances at this point, Airplane has been through a lot, and Qiu Haitang has had one game that turned from easy to hard in a minute that she survived with luck and her wits (and gave her a crap ton of points and a need for survival classes she took asap before her next game). Airplane, because he doesn’t trust the fact that they’ll be okay if other parts of the Village they’re in are invaded, sends his spirits and some nifty golems he got from the shop to help patrol everywhere.

Because come on, if one place gets breached, of course the rest will be vulnerable! He’s played the Empire Building, Fortress Making games to prove it!

(Everyone nods, because this actually makes so much sense, how could they have ignored such an obvious trap! Intermediate Instances are no joke!)

Cue really scary as fuck ice monsters and evil spirits. Things are going good, Airplane and co are making it through, with Airplane discovering and making obsolete yet another trap unknowingly because he’s making sure everything is rationed(and using some points to actually buy some fooof) and checking in with villagers all over; because they are literally in charge of protecting and managing all these people, and with everything around here with the blizzard and seize, they have to make sure there is enough food and supplies for everyone.

(That this prevents making evil spirits and monster from rising with the Village is a big thing actually, because some of them are made from the dead.)

So then, the forth day comes; it starts out nice, no more harsh snows, people are coming out of their houses now, Airplane is nearly tearing his hair out from stress and too many people, but he can make do. (has had to make do with worse really)

And then he hears some of the Villagers are about to riot, planning to go at something with stones and pitchforks. Panicking, thinking these NPCs that he has to protect are trying to go outside their weight class, Airplane gets the others in his team and other teams who are useful to hopefully get the weak peasant class NPC out of danger as he goes about handling the problem himself, only to stop and start at the literal child bleeding in from of him.

For a moment, Airplane blanks... (Sure, he knows, from experience, that Children Ghosts are in fact some of the most, if not the most deadly ghost out there... And yet... for all the pranks and cruelty they played, they were always the ones who understood Airplane’s loneliness the most, being the most truthful and blunt and just honest with him...)

So, when Airplane sees this light blue demon child with horns and nasty claws, tear stains on his still baby fat cheeks even as they scowl and bare fangs, fear and anger in their eyes as they tremble before him, Airplane does not kill the child or run them out of the village.

It takes some coaxing, and it’s mostly hunger on the child’s part that wins in the end, but with the last of Airplane’s Jerky being torn through, he is able to treat the kid with his kit in his tent, even get them some cold soup to eat before they sleep.

Airplane has enough time to possibly panic over the fact ‘Wait, if there is a child there must be a parent’ before said Child’s Father appears in the Village the next morning, KO’ing two teams before almost killing his own before Airplane shakily presents them their well treated and contented child...

who doesn’t let go, until their parent raises an eyebrow, makes an amused huff, and easily grabs their child, even if it leaves Airplane with some nasty scratches and one less lucky charm necklace.

(The Future Mobei-Jun, still Mo Bolin, nearly cries, but stubbornly bites his lip as he does, glaring at anything and everyone around him, especially his parent and the warm person he has to leave here. He wants to keep them! They saved him when their was no gain for it, and even used much needed supplies to treat him, which Mo Bolin knows are important and guarded fiercely! They told interesting stories and had good food! He doesn’t want to leave them.)

Mo Bolin’s Father is very amused, and gives Shang Qinghua an ice power(shield) and a Teleporting Token.

So, when Shang Qinghua gets back from this instance, he gets some friend requests, a bunch of points for the best possible ending ever achieved in a game, and info about his new things.

he’ll only be able to make Shields and Barriers with his new Ice Ability, with the strength and number he can make increasing with each level.

With the Token, it allows him to teleport a limited range and places he either sees or has been. It can’t be leveled, but apparently, if he fulfills some sort of condition, it can be upgraded.

So, those are ideas I have for some of the Instances. Things not mentioned:

Time with the Instances is weird; Time still always moves forward, but it can easily skip around... So the next time Airplane accidently gets into a high Nightmare Grade Instance, He might see a fully grown Mo Bolin, now Mobei-Jun~

Another example of Time being weird with the Instances; Airplane obviously met Shang Qinghua first, but Shang Qinghua had been Betrayed and sold out to Mobei-Jun, the same Mobei-Jun that Airplane saved as a child :D

(Yes, Airplane will summon Shang Qinghua in an Instance with Mobei-Jun, and it will be gloriously awkward, even as Shang Qinghua is smug, because he can still see Airplane anytime the other wishes to summon him)

(This will probably lead to Mobei-Jun upgrading Airplane’s Token, making it to where it’s range is even greater now, and can summon him if Airplane wishes it.)

I am still on the fence of making Shen Yuan either a Ghost and part of the Harem, or a player who is bros with Airplane.

There is an Instance in their Real Life, where Qiu Haitang, Shen Jiu, Yue Qi, along with Airplane go along one hell of a Blast from the Past as they find out terrible secrets, things get resolved, there is much crying to be had, and everyone agrees to never mention the Instance ever again or so help them Shen Jiu will make them forget.

(Shen Jiu likes having a sister. Qiu Haitang likes having a brother she actually likes.)

Liu Qingge is a disaster; is he a player, is he a Ghost, is he a monster? Who knows, Airplane doesn’t. (I’m going to say he is a fellow player~ he just likes messing with Airplane.)

And thus, here is this AU~ Hope you guys like it~ EDIT: Noticed this was weird to read, so I added spaces: hope this helps.

#SVSSS #Scum Villain's Self-Saving System #Scum Villain's Self Saving System #Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky #Shang Qinghua #OG!Shang Qinghua #Mu Qingfang #Mobei-Jun #Ghosted Airplane AU

67 notes · View notes

kukukape · 4 years ago

Text

Watch Dogs Legion: OC x Richard Malik, pt. 1

Summary: Teenaged Richard Malik is getting beat up in a back alley. Is it retribution for the future? Yeah, but Angel doesn't know that.

---

Cold.

Ruthless.

Insatiable in the business of death, and so very skilled too.

These are the things that I became over the course of my life. Not necessarily in that order, or even in succession at all. In fact, I don't think I can even say I really 'became' those things. I always had been. My youthful murders say that much.

When I look in the mirror, I do see a monster. I do. One that I don't hold anyone at fault for, as this demon, I am confident, is purely my own doing. And I often dislike her, with her jagged smile and scarred face.

But I cherish the memories that she has been able to acquire, pure and sweet amidst a journey beelining for nothing but death. I made good friends, lots of enemies (of the good and bad), and one lover. And in each I found smiles and human tears, and a mixture of other emotions that, at the end of the day, at least were something that I could feel.

My name is Angel Marcos, and I lived a bad life.

But there was beauty in it, although rarely mine, and I'd like to share it.

---

DedSec, in all its arrogant glory, often calls themselves 'Watch Dogs'. How fitting to label us animals, really. But even better, would be to call us 'little brothers', because all we ever seemed to accomplish was kicking 'big brother' in the shins and screaming Bloody Mary at spectators.

Anyway, DedSec was my final chapter. My longest chapter. And plenty of other chapters saw their beginning and end before that one (after all, nobody becomes a skilled monster overnight).

Life only began for me when I met Richard. A tall, lanky, awkward, and- well, cute, to be frank- thing at the beginning of secondary school.

As a teen, I took a back way to school. At least, one of the back ways available, because I knew several. A useful skill for a kid who found herself on the business end of a bully's instigated fist so often.

My rise was at the break of dawn, just as an extra contingency. Plus, it let me slow down for a much-needed morning walk. A teenager needed some peace before they wreaked havoc, after all.

I tapped my feet to a beat nobody else around me could hear, holding my iPod (it was 2001, fuck off) in one hand and the side strap of my backpack in the other. Gravel crunched under my feet and somewhere not so far off, some kid's grunts and cries of pain were unknown to me.

You rock my world, ya know you did,

And everything I own I give,

The rarest love, who'd think I'd find,

Someone like y-

I yelped as someone bashed into me right as I turned a corner, and nearly sent me right back around it. The peace of my mornings, interrupted by some idiot without a care to look around himself…

…which made sense, considering the sorry lump on the ground that he and some of his presumes friends were kicking.

Oh, shit, that's not a lump, that's a kid.

A lanky kid, at that. His scrawny arms obscured his face as he covered himself in a way you were supposed to when facing a grizzly bear. Near-girlish cries left him with every blow he was forced to take.

I must have looked either idiotic or simply unsympathetic in that moment, just staring dumbly (or blankly) as this kid was being pummeled into the ground. It took another shove my way to wake me the fuck up.

"Fuck off, Marcos," the perpetrator growled. I settled him with a look when he said my name. I didn't recognize him, but he must have been from school, given his now-bloodied uniform.

Another shove.

"I said fuck off, bitch! Ya wanna end up like this little wanker too?" He jabbed a finger at the primary victim.

My lips had yet to flap some sass back at him, which was honestly a feat in itself. I looked back at the kid on the ground, who hadn't cried out for help or begged for mercy. It almost made me not want to help him.

I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and promptly swung it at my irritator's head. He hit the brick wall next to us and dropped to the ground cold.

…Apparently 'almost' wasn't enough.

His three friends looked up at the sound of a wanker's hollow head meeting an immovable force.

They looked at their friend on the ground.

Then they looked at me.

The kid on the ground had even started shifting up onto his elbows to observe me too.

I put my iPod in my pocket with a sigh, and bit the hair tie I had on my wrist.

"C'mon, let's get this over with."

---

Sound. Sound was the only thing I had, considering my glasses were snapped in half and tossed over the chained fence those four had cornered me at.

And sound by itself was almost too much, as I heard bones being cracked and the squelch of finer parts being crushed.

I'd nearly grown irritated, watching the blur of a person- a girl, I had realized- in between the cracks of my guarding arms. I was never a begger, not until duty called for such. But it would have brought me more comfort to see her scamper away rather than spectate.

To this day, I don't know what was going through Angel's mind as she watched the scene. I'm sure my weakness crossed her mind, but her life was of constant choices.

I wonder which one she really made that day, as she put down four bullies twice her size and sauntered over to cast her shadow over me.

I flinched away as she knelt by my side, halfway sure she'd knock me out too for good measure. Then she put a hand on my arm- her palms were soft, to my surprise. I'd suspected callouses, rough like the gravel I'd been beaten down on.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked.

"Do I look okay?" I snapped back. A small part of me shriveled in shame, to snap at who was, admittedly, my savior.

But she didn't seem to mind, or perhaps she just didn't care. Carefully, she helped me to my feet, patting me on the shoulders in a (very weak) form of comfort.

I rubbed at my eyes, wishing they'd for once cooperate with me so I could actually see who it was who'd come to my rescue. She seemed to recognize my struggle as she looked around for a pair of glasses.

"I have contacts in my backpack…" I muttered. There was no way I'd be able to rummage through it on my own.

"You must be really blind," she quipped, but helped me nonethless as I grumbled. "Here," she put the pack in my hands and I quickly put the contacts in.

I let out a sigh of relief as my vision cleared, and the bloodbath of a fight before me became that much clearer, and my rescuer all the prettier. I had had more graceful first thoughts about people, and I quickly shoved those about her down.

"You really, erm…" I gestured with my chin behind her at the scene she'd created, trying to divert her steel gaze from me. "Beat them by yourself?"

She simply shrugged, leaning down to hand me my backpack and then picking up hers again. As she stepped over the head of the little gang's legs, she made sure to give his foot a sound kick.

My feet, however, had yet to agree to move. She looked over her shoulder at me. "Are you coming? We could make it to school early and get you cleaned up," she said.

"Oh… of course," I dashed up to walk by her side, and she cringed a bit at the obvious awkwardness my injuries had induced.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke up. "You're new in the neighborhood, aren't you?" She asked, though her tone wasn't inquisitive.

"…I am."

That made her smile. A crooked smile, her white teeth peeking out from the side. But the crinkle of her eyes was soft.

"Well, I'm Angel," she said as she turned forward again.

It took me a moment to get over my bewilderment that these were our introductions.

No, this interaction belonged to two people who'd crossed paths on the sidewalk to school. Not to a wiry teenage boy and the girl who'd saved him from the beating of his life.

But as far as I could tell- and can tell- Angel had already forgotten about heroics and dramatics and convoluted thank you's.

"I'm Richard," I said softly, "Richard Malik."

She snorted slightly, and I tossed her a look. She smiled apologetically. "Yeah? Do you like your drink shaken or stirred, Richard?"

I let out a dramatic groan, perhaps more pained than the ones I'd been letting out on that alleyway ground.

But I'd be damned to say I didn't smile.

~end~

#Richard malik #Richard Malik x oc #angel marcos

10 notes · View notes

rachelbethhines · 5 years ago

Text

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Eye of Pincosta

So this is an episode that really didn’t need to exist, and I say that as a Styalan defender. The writers took a perfect opportunity have the characters actually learn and grown and bypass it all for a contrived performative fake out redemption.

Summary: The group arrive in the town of Pincosta, but Eugene is immediately thrown in jail for having previously stolen the town's largest diamond, the Eye of Pincosta. The sheriff declares Eugene to work in the deadly copper mines and soon the rest of the group are thrown in jail. Rapunzel negotiates with the sheriff, offering to find and retrieve the Eye of Pincosta in exchange for Eugene and the group's release. The sheriff agrees, but on the condition that Rapunzel returns in two days. Rapunzel confronts Eugene about the theft and reluctantly, Eugene reveals he previously worked together with Stalyan, forcing Rapunzel to seek out Stalyan and persuades her to help.

So Why Didn’t Eugene Just Stay Behind With the Caravan?

Like it doesn’t take all six of you to buy and carry food back to the caravan; which they don’t take into the town anyways. Especially when you have two horses you can use. So why bring Eugene along when you know he could be arrested?

Pointing Out the Flaw In Your Writing Doesn’t Make It Any Less of a Flaw

No seriously, why didn’t he stay with the caravan? You need someone to watch over your stuff anyways if your going to leave it behind and Eugene is the perfect candidate for that. And even if you did need everyone to stick together, which you don’t, then bring the camper with you and let Eugene ride inside of it unseen. It’s not like the towns roads are too small for it or anything and it’ll save you from having to carry your stuff.

If you have to turn your characters into sudden idiots for no discernible reason to make your plot happen then you haven’t a good plot. Start over and come up with something else. Like maybe have Eugene not realize that he is wanted here because it was so long ago or have the guards randomly check their caravan where he’s hiding out because Styalan’s back into town, or something. Anything so long as it doesn’t make the mains stupid.

You’re Literally The Princess of Powerful Kingdom; Use That!

Ok, from what background info we get here, Pincosta isn’t even a fully fledged kingdom. It’s a hamlet, which is smaller than even a village. We get no indication what ‘land’ it belongs to, but it shares a kingdom with the larger town of Zulberg, which is one of the running gags in the first half of the episode.

What all this means is that Rapunzel is still the most powerful person in the room. She’s the heir apparent to the throne of a prosperous kingdom that has ties with a large trading network with bunch of other power kingdoms. Locking up her boyfriend and the future prince consort of said kingdom can be perceived as an act of war.

The series is trying to lead into Rapunzel becoming queen, but that means she needs to take advantage of her position and perform queenly like tasks. Like negotiating international incidents like this one, and simply complying to the city’s laws as if she was some random traveler doesn’t cut it.

Oh, So Now You Care!

Rapunzel, where the fuck do you think that prison barge was heading to just two episodes back? The same prison barge that your friend Attila was being threatened with. The same prison barge that victims of Corona’s corrupt justice system, like say Varian, are threatened with on top of the inhumane conditions of those dungeon cells that you locked your two best friends in back in season one.

Do not tell me Rapunzel is some kind and caring person if she only gives a damn about unjust treatment when it only affects her or someone she already cares about.

This Is Stealing Agency Away From Eugene

Rapunzel is not the one responsible for Eugene’s mistakes. She can help to some degree, like using her political power to pull some strings, but she doesn’t need to be the one to make reparations for his actions; that’s on him.

Or rather it should be on him. This should be his episode. The one where he grows as a person as he makes up for past deeds. Because redemption isn’t just about never doing bad things again, it’s also about making amends for what you did wrong.

That’s where this series fails and why the whole ‘It’s Rapunzel’s Story’ mantra is hollow. For starters it’s not just Rapunzel’s story. The series isn’t structured to be that way because it’s based off of a movie with two protagonists. It’s Eugene’s story as well. It’s also Cassandra’s and Varian’s story because as the main antagonists they further the conflict.

But it also fails because Rapunzel is just thrown into other people’s stories instead of being given her own. Rapunzel never learns anything from this adventure. Stalyan does, and Stalyan is never seen again after this episode. Having Rapunzel teach other random people lessons is counterintuitive to what the series wants to be. If it’s meant to be a coming of age story where Rapunzel learns about the real world, then she can’t be automatically in the right every episode.

Well Ain’t That Convenient

So Stalyan is needed to find this diamond that she and Eugene stole in order to free Eugene. Yet it’s never stated how Rapunzel finds Stalyan, especially so quickly. Last we saw her she had just left Varados and that was months ago. She could have been anywhere by this time.

So why is she near the same town where she’d still be wanted for arrest at? Where’s a her dad, who was dying from poison when we last saw him? What has she been up to? How did Rapunzel even know she was here?

Like you need to establish crap like this, otherwise it’s just a major plot hole.

So Why Stalyan?

This episode could have gone to just about anybody. Eugene, Lance, Lady Caine, fucking Shorty... Like I’d even take Hookfoot over this. He’s at least there for more than two episodes.

So why Stalyan? Why does she get a focus episode when we’ll never see her again? How come she’s ‘redeemed’ but not any of the other criminals on the prison barge? Like the series wants to act as if Rapunzel is this really forgiving person who believes in second chances but only four villains out of twenty get redemptions. 4 out of 20! What makes Stalyan so special that she gets to be one of those few select four and not say Lady Caine, Dwayne, or Andrew and the Saporians?

This Should Have Been a Lance and Rapunzel Team Up Instead

Keep in mind when I say this episode could have focused on anybody, I do mean it. You get creative enough this initial setup could have featured any two characters you wanted interacting. Lance and Eugene, Eugene and Rapunzel, Eugene and Stalyan, Eugene and Cassandra, Lance and Cassandra or maybe even Caine and Rapunzel, and reveal how Eugene knew Caine back in the pilot episode. Like there’s a lot of possibilities here.

For my money though, this should have been a Lance and Rapunzel episode. Because we don’t get any Lance and Rapunzel episodes. We don't even get any Lance episodes after his introduction. All his development, what little there is, is shoved into the b-plot of other characters’ focus episodes. He also barely interacts with the series main character despite being her boyfriend’s BFF and living with her on the road for year. That’s ridiculous.

All you needed to do was make Lance Eugene’s partner and have Lance make up for his past deeds to try and free his friends. Boom!

Why Didn’t You Bring Anything With You Raps?

We see at the end that the caravan was parked outside of town this whole time. She still has the key to get out any money that she needed, the pick of two horses that can’t fit inside of a cell anyways, and oh yeah probably a canteen to use.

Furthermore, she’s a fucking princess!!! She’s has credit and clout and can just get whatever she damn near wants just by asking; because she’s not your average person on the street like us.

I’m not going to feel sorry for the main protagonist when the main protagonist is an idiot who does these things to herself and makes life harder for everyone needlessly.

Rapunzel Has a Stunted Grasp of Ethics

Stalyan’s not wrong here. Unless you have an alternative, like your own horse or money to buy horses, that you decided to leave behind as well for some undefined reason, then yeah, you needed horses. Your friends lives are at stake woman!

I touched on this back in my TAR review, but the show leans heavily into authoritarian beliefs because it provides childish lessons for adult situations.

‘Stealing is always wrong no matter what’ is the thought process of a child. It does not take into account how systems of governments can stack the deck against certain groups of people, nor how sometimes emergencies come up and you got to deal them in the moment and make amends later.

And you know what, I’m not taking ‘it’s a show for kids’ as an excuse here. Children shows very much can introduce comlex themes and grey morals and plenty already have. If you make classism a major theme of your story then you need to actually address it, and that starts by having your main character acknowledge it.

This could have been the perfect opportunity for Rapunzel to grow. Up till now she’s always had her physical needs provided for her. Since her escape from the tower she’s also been thoroughly spoiled. Have her come down off her high horse and see how the other half lives. See first hand what Eugene and the pub thugs had to do to survive before they met her.

Have her things actually be confiscated. Have her princess title mean nothing cause no one knows her or believes her. Have Corona not recognized in this part of the world. You want to be the underdog then make her an actual underdog and have her learn from it.

Because Rapunzel having the moral outlook of child makes sense given her backstory, but she can’t stay that way. We all have to grow up sometime, we all have to learn the harsher truths of this world, and this is suppose to be a coming of age story.

So How Does Stalyan Know Where the Eye Is But Not Eugene?

If Eugene is the one who lost it, then how come he didn’t know where it was at? Why couldn’t he just have told Rapunzel all of this and left Staylan out of the picture? Also how do you know if Goodberry even still has it if it’s been years ago? How do you know where Goodberry is? It’s awfully convenient that he never moved in all that time and that he’s so close to the town of Pincosta.

Once again, plot holes.

Stalyan is a Poor Man’s Sadira

So for those of you who aren’t 90s kids like myself, Sadira is a villian from the Aladdin tv series. She’s basically Stalyan but done better.

Things they have in common

their goals are to marry the main hero, who are ex-thieves

both are jealous of the main heroines who are princesses

both are thieves themselves and have lived their whole lives as such

both believe they belong with the hero because they come from a common background

both resort to dubious means to win the heart of the hero

both try to get rid of the heroines but never resort to killing them out right

both are redeemed and eventually befriends the princesses

You know what the difference between the two of them is?

Sadira is actions are actually worse than Staylan’s but she’s given enough screen time and focus to come across as sympathetic to the audience.

I’m serious. Stalyan is an ex who was left at the altar by her douchey boyfriend, but their relationship was so toxic that she can’t understand that she’s actually better off without him nor accept that he left her for someone else. So she tries manipulating him into coming back to her, while her dad does some messed up blackmail and poisoning that she didn’t agree to but went along with anyways.

Meanwhile Sadria is a straight up stalker. She doesn’t even meet Aladdin until after the events of the first film, and he makes it clear to her from the get go that he’s in a committed relationship with someone else and isn’t interested in her. But Sadria tries episode after episode to ‘win’ him resorting to mindwipes, kidnapping, and even alternating reality.

But we actually see things from Sadria’s perspective. It’s made clear that she has no one and nothing. Aladdin is the first person to show her kindness and so she latches onto him. Sure it’s unhealthy and the series calls it out as such, but by the time she has acknowledged this and befriends Jasmine the audience now understands her and feels sympathy for her.

We get no such focus for Stalyan. Not even in her redemption episode. We still don't know why she wants to be with Eugene after he’s treated her so badly. We still don't have any clue what their relationship was like before the breakup, or even when the breakup happened. (I still think it was during the events of the movie and that he left her for Rapunzel, but it’s left open) It’s hard to relate to or feel sorry for Stakyan when we know nothing about her and haven’t seen this ‘good side’ Rapunzel keeps talking about for ourselves.

Even though theoretically she should be very sympathetic because of the way Eugene treated her, and because her actions thus far are relatively tame compared to most of the villains in the show.

Just Because Other Places in the World Are As Bad as Corona, Doesn’t Mean That Frederic Is Excused For His Behavior

This show thinks it’s a okay to introduce horrible crap so long as it’s done in a comedic way and not focused on, but this isn’t The Office. You can’t use a corrupt legal system and authoritarians abusing their power as the crux of your main conflict in season one and then expect us to just laugh off jokes like this one. Or the one about tailor getting locked up for ripping Frederic’s robe. Or find young Lance trapped in a cell with Shorty being fed gruel as funny.

Like, even if you do laugh at these jokes at first in the moment, once you stop to think about them, it just shows how awful Frederic and Rapunzel are, how awful the system is, and that change needs to happen. But it can’t happen if Rapunzel and the show doesn’t acknowledge that such things are wrong. That they are more than jokes.

The serious story that the writers want to tell is undermined by the comedy, and the comedic moments are undermined by the existence of the more serious drama.

So is this a sitcom or a drama? It can’t be both, not when dealing with such high stakes.

Sitcoms work because they’re low stakes. Few characters are affected and most situations aren’t life and death. Even in dark comedies where death is often the joke, it’s because death is seen as unimportant, something to be casted aside, and it’s funny because it’s disrespectful. But the moment you call to attention just how messed up everything really is, and how awful death can be, then it’s suddenly no longer funny. Especially if it’s innocents who are getting hurt. Dark comedies also work because it’s often computuance for characters who are awful people.

That’s not what TTS is, so it’s attempts at being like It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia or Rick and Morty just doesn’t work and comes across as tone deaf.

Also why are the dang horses in the cell with the humans? They’re horses!

So What Exactly Is Stalyan’s Plan Here?

No seriously, what is her thought processes here? The audience isn’t mind readers. We need know why the characters do the things they do.

Why is Stalyan still hung up on Eugene? Why does Stalyan think he’ll take her back if she shows up to free him without Rapunzel? What is she going to say when he asks about Raps and why would he even believe her to begin with?

What does ‘A thief belongs with a thief’ even mean!!? We have no context for this cause we have no context for their relationship!

This episode could have provided us with some context, some cule of why Stalyan and Eugene were together for so long, why they broke up, why she still wants to be with him, why she thinks he’ll return to her even now, but nope! We gotta have a stupid parody wrestling match.

Oh joy.

This Is a Guilt Trip, Not a Redemption

Rapunzel is full of shit.

If she honestly believed that there was ‘good in everybody’ then why did she send Caine off on the prison barge without even trying to relate to her? Why didn’t she try to befriend Weasel instead of fighting him off? Why is Varian currently sitting in a jail cell right now!!!

Here’s why Stalyan was ‘redeemed’ and not the others.

Rapunzel needed something from her.

Rapunzel guilt trips, manipulates, and coerces Stalyan into helping her. She doesn’t actually give a damn about whether or not Stalyan ‘does the right thing’ so long as she gets what she wants; Eugene’s freedom and his heart.

Sure Stalyan probably should turn away from her life of crime. She should let go of her obsession with Eugene. She should return the eye that she stole and start making up for her past. But you know what?

None of those things have anything to do with Rapunzel!

Stalyan needs to come to those decisions herself in order for this to be a proper redemption. If Rapunzel is involved in any of that then it can’t be with the condition that she’s gaining something from it. It’s not true compassion if you have an ulterior motive for what you do.

This Confession Might Actually Have Meant Something If We Had Any Actual Context!

This doesn’t tell me anything.

Why would Stalyan only see ‘a thief’? She loved him enough to want to marry him and has known him for years. Sure she may have accepted that he was a thief, encouraged it even, but there’s got to be other reasons why she dated him. Other reasons for why she wanted him back.

Also why does this come back to Rapunzel specifically? Is she the reason why he left Staylan at the altar? And even so, why is that a reason to give Eugene a free pass? Is it just because she’s the protag and now they’re friends suddenly?

In fact if you are friends now, then Rapunzel deserves to know the truth of who she plans on marrying and come to the decision if he’s worth it. If he really has changed, not just in terms of being an ex-thief but also in how he handles relationships.

We the audience deserve to know too.

Redemption Shouldn’t be Tied to Friendship With Rapunzel

Eugene becoming inspired to be a better person because he fell in love with someone is one thing. Rapunzel only forgiving people because they’ll befriend her is entirely another. Especially when two of the main villains become villains after they stop being friends with her.

It sends out a really gross message of favoritism and not letting go of toxic relationships, while also placing Rapunzel too high upon a pedestal.

Rapunzel Can’t Forgive Stalyan In Eugene’s Place

I’d be pretty upset if my current spouse just said that my abusive ex ‘was not that bad’.

Like, fuck both of you.

And yes, I did defend Stalyan in Beyond the Corona Walls, and I did say that we didn’t have enough context to claim she was abusive when they were in a relationship. After the breakup tho? Yeah, yeah she was abusive then. You don't have to be in a relationship in order to bully someone; you just have to have power over them.

Stalyan hurt Eugene, not Rapunzel. That’s why any redemption with her needed to be with him. They both needed to make amends, forgive each other, and move on.

This isn’t Rapunzel’s show.

If the creator wanted it to be her show then he shouldn’t have introduced conflicts that don’t actually involve her, nor characters with higher stakes then her.

This Doesn’t Feel Earned, and So the Audience Feels Cheated

And so Stalyan rides off into the sunset rich to live happily ever after presumably as a thief still, and no one gave a shit.

No one was asking for this. No one cared about Stalyan. Worse the writer failed to make us care. Ergo this whole episode feels like a waste and it is.

Conclusion

Much like the rest of season two this is pure filler, and not even good fun filler; like with the mermaid episode or the pirate episode. Worse it’s very existence actually diminishes Rapunzel as a character rather than build her up. So it fails in its sole purpose as a story.

#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #stalyan #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

64 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 4 years ago

Text

Top 15 Star Trek TOS Episodes (Part One)

I debated on doing this until I did the second watchthrough/reviews... but heck with it. I don’t see it changing too terribly much after and I thought it would be fun. It’s been a fun ride with TOS and I didn’t expect to love it, but here we are. It ain’t a perfect show, but a good one with good characters, strong themes, and just the right amount of intrigue and silliness. I had a blast watching it, but let’s face it, some episodes are better than others. Some are goofy but enjoyable, some... well, they tried. Everyone’s got what they like and dislike, and these are the ones that I liked best. All is only my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. So to finally cap off this watchthrough before I start the second one and also plunge into TNG, here is the first half of my favorite TOS episodes~

#15. Bread and Circuses

I didn’t realize this until I saw someone else point it out... but this is essentially Star Trek’s version of The Hunger Games, only combined with Roman gladiators. We have our main trio get captured by the government whom have already caused another Starfleet captain to succumb and he sentenced his entire crew to death. Thus we have Kirkg ivent he option of either doing the same, or he can remain in defiance and risk Spock and McCoy’s lives. Either way, he loses. It’s a good episode, showing Kirk given one of the most sadistic choices that you can give him... and yet he doesn’t break. Oh he gets plenty of hardship. He makes the choice to keep the crew form beaming down, which morally is te best decision. After all, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Kirk, unlike Captain Merik, chooses to preserve his cew’s safety as a captain should. Whatever happens to him makes no difference... but because Spock and McCoy are with him, him making that chocie means that they suffer theconsequences as they are not only thrust into gladitorial combat for their lives, bt Kirk is forced to watch and can do nothing. He tries to when Bones is down, but restrained form doing so. But even then he doesn’t back down or even consider it. Merik may have thrown away his whole crew, but like Hell Kirk is going to and concerning the other two, he accepts execution after Spock breaks the rules to save Bones, emphasizing the point more. It;s a really god episode to show just how much Kirk truly follows that responsibility.

We also have some great Spock/McCoy content here as the episode does put their relationship int he spotlight a bit. Their relationship is the most interesting to me so this was a great one. They bicker pretty much all episode with even the other guy they got caught with asking if they’re enemies, which Kirk just replies that even those tow don’t know. But I think if there’s any doubt that they don’t care about each other, this one promptly shuts it up. Spock, despite knowing that he can’t, defends McCoy and saves his life. This leads tot he excellent scene int he cells where Spock is trying to figure a way out, despite fully well knowing that he can’t break through the bars. Logically it would be pointless to continue fruitless efforts, but he tries to anyways. When McCoy tries to thank him for saving him, with Spock both hiding behind his usual logical shell while still focusing on the futile escape effort. Thus we get McCoy confronting him about being afraid of living and not knowing how to handle even one warm feeling. It’s a really good scene performed excellently by Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley and is just a really good insight into their relationship. I’ll keep from going into any huge detail for if that review project makes it this far, but still an excellently performed scene, especially when it caps off with McCoy simply saying that he’s worried about Jim too, the one thing that the two CAN agree on without doubt.

This is at fifteen mainly because of a few small factors. I only know a few things about Roman history so anything about it went over my head and the ending also baffled me likely due to that. We also have it implied that Kirk did... it with a slave girl. Mind you the slave girl went to him and again it’s implied. But that still makes me feel... very uncomfortable once the girl did it under orders, and therefore not fully without consent. I’m gonna have to watch it again when I dot he more in-depth analysis, but... yeah. The ending also leaves without a real resolution to the planet, remaining as they are until they eventually fall just like the actual Rome did. I guess that was the intention, but... just kinda sucks that nothing truly got accomplished. Still from a character standpoint, it was a really good one for the Triumvirate and a great watch.

#14. For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

So for those who have been following me since I began this venture, you know that McCoy is my absolute favorite character. So when we got to a McCoy-centric episode, I was excited! And overall, it was a good one. Not one of the best, but perfectly fine. We have McCoy diagnosed with a terminal illness and given a year to live. When he and the other two transport onto a meteor-esque spaceship, they encounter the priestess Natira and her people headed for essentially a promised land witht he ship controleld by The Oracle. As Kirk and Spock try to learn more, McCoy is left with Natira who has grown smittenw ith hima dn wishes for him to remain as her mate. Sadly, I feel like this pisode wasted a lot of potential. Bones, the Chief Medical Officer who is always taking care of everyone else, is now the sick one and has only a eya rleft, if event hat. But the only real signs of this is he’s a little weaker than normal, which tbf it was just diagnoses so he may not have the most severe symptoms bu it also kidna makes the fact feel... less urgent. Using that time to set up himw ith Natira also felt wasted since we have the potential of a very emotional story where McCoy sis truggling with his lfie and the others have to come to terms that e’s going to die and likely struggle to find some way, any way to save him... and we spend it with a Girl of the Week who we’ll never see again and on a romance that while it is kinda sweet, ultimately leaves zero impact. It just feels like there was so much wasted potential and the emotional weight that you DO get... it feels less strong if you don’t know McCoy’s history. We know it now cause of supplementary material and such, butt he audiece of the 60’s certainly didn’t, hence why this is fourteen on the list.

That being said, the episode is still good. What makes up for the lack of impact about McCoy’s status and lack of history is DeForest Kelley. The man put his all into this episode (he did in every episode, but especially here when he gets ot be center stage), expressing McCoy’s sadness and loneliness as he talks to Natira perfectly. You can feel that loneliness, that longingness for what Natira’s offering him, that need to just have... some kind of happiness and intimacy that he was just never able to truly have, especially now. He just feels so... sad and vulnerable. Even though we’ve seen him interact romantically with women before, he comes off as so nervous and uncertain about what he’s doing. Like it’s been so long since he’s been intimate with anyone that he is at an utter loss on what to do with it. Natira essentially takes the lead and is even perfectly fine with caring for him in the limited time that he has left. There is someone willing to be with him and to love him for the first time in who knows how long and willing to continue to do so despite him dying... is it any shock that he chose to remain? And even then he did so in part to save Kirka and Spock from death when they got caught... and even then when he found out how to get the ship on it’s actual course and out oft he way of danger, he called them immediately for help. Yeah he almost got his brain fried for it which tbf he didn’t know would happen, but it still shows how selfless he really is, still placing others well-being before his own. As a good doctor would and should.

We also have Kirk and Spock’s reactions to the news. Kirk only knows because Chapel pretty much forced Bones to tell him and the man looks like a kicked puppy when told. He even tells Bones that he doesn’t have to go on the mission with them when normally he’s all gung-ho about dragging him along, only allowing it because this time Bones actually wants to go. Spock finds out after they all get zapped with Bones taking longer to wake up/being briefly unrsponsive, where Kirk admits it to him. Spock is noticibly concerned, emphasized when he holds onto McCoy’s arm for a good 30 seconds just to help the man sit up. McCoy can already tell that he knows before Kirk say it...a dn chooses to just let it be and get back to the matter at hand. Then there’s McCoy after he made his decision and faces the two for as far as he knew the final time. Kirk argues with him and is all but begging him to come back since otherwise he’s gonna die, which McCoy refuses since...well, he’s gonna either die from collision or being shot down, or he dies of xenopolycythemia. Either way he’s on borrowed time, so why not at least let him live it hacving a shot at happiness? Kirk is upset. Spock is as upset as a Vulcan will express. McCoy’s not happy about it, but firm in his decision... so firm it kinda makes the end where he does decide to go back kind of a juxtaposition, but I ain’t complaining either. The cure is also too convenient, but again not complaining. It doens’t seem like that much of an episode at first glance, but once you sit down and reallye xamine it even if you know nothign about McCoy’s backstory or peornsal life, it relaly leaves an impact. Again, a testemant to Kelley’ performance. As such even wit it’s issues and waste of potential, I adore it~!

#13. Obsession

I don’t see this one talked about much, but I found this one... well I hate to say the word but fascinating. What can I say? I’m a sucker for character studies, and BOY do we have a good one with Kirk here. In this episode we have a mysterious gas creature thing killing the crew and eventually get into The Enteprrise. Kirk reacts badly to it. Why? Well his crew dying of course, but the big reason is because he’s dealt with this creature before when he was a lieutenant where due to hesitaitng for a brief moment, mass casualties including his commanding officer were killed. So now with this creature’s pesence, Kirk is ont he hunt to take it down once and for all. But as the title indicates, he’s leaning towards becoming obsessed with it. We se Kirk acitng more angry and reckless than usual, especially when he continues to choose this over getting out of the space to diver some vaccines whent heya re desperately needed... yeah we’ll try to ignore how uncomfortable that is int he current times for now. The on of his former CO is also part of the Enterprise crew, and Kirk is spreading that obsession onto him, even punishing him for hesitating as he had when you’d expect him to be more sympathetic. It’s an episode that really unsettles you because Kirk isn’t acting like Kirk. Even in Consciousness of the King when dealing with the man who... you know, caused a genocide that Kirk was a victim of, he mostly held it together.

It’s these kinds of episodes that always fascinate me. What happens when we put this character into a situaitont hat completeley unnerves them? How would they react? How would it affect their usually rational actions? What would drive them to behave in such a way? How do those around them react? Kirk is very much dealing with a trauma and while eh is able to convince Spock and McCoy that e IS sound of mind and fit for duty, it doesn’t change that he’s allowing the trauma and guilt to morph into a dangeorus obsessiont hat is risking numerous lives. Not to mention afecting a young man who is in a similar position to him and also lost a loved one, yet the one that you’d expect to have Kirk’s sympahty is the one he’s treaitng harshly because of what he himself went through. Yes Kirk realizes it at the end and both corrects his mistakes and takes outt he monster, and it was good to see that he was able to pull himself back. But it was still just so interesitng to explore Kirk in this kind of position.

Spock and McCoy were also on point with both knowing that Jim isn’t acting right and ultimateley confornting him. The whole scene where McCoy gives Kirk essentially apsycological analysis, bringing Spock in once Kirk gets partiulalry heated, and them both laying down the line and holding firm until Kirk properly assures themt hat he is fit for duty was such a great scene. So was Spock actually seekign Bones as he knows that he can better understand Kirk’s emotional issues and him trying to comfort Garrovic was nice... it failed but he was stillt rying to do the right thing when Jim couldn’t. It’just one of those episodes that a character analyist like me eats up. As far as flaws go, notign comes to mind, but that might change on rewatch. I had just had others I liked better that placed it here, but it was very much an episode that got my attention.

#12. Operation: Annihilate

I still remember the suspense that this episode had me in. So we have the crew arrive at a colony that is uner attack by these parasites that are infecting thema nd leading them to painful deaths. Its already bad when Kirk finds his brother dead and his sister-in-law dies in utter agony, leaivng his young nephew’s fate uncertain. But it gets worse when Spockg ets infected and while he does his best, he’s having a difficult time managing the pain. It shows too in not only the scene where he pretty much goes balistic, but every scene after where he’s moslty under control, you can see the pain in his body lamnguage, tone, and eyes. Nimoy did an excelelnt job at keeping up that usual Spock demeanor, but converyign everything through body language alone. The team has to work to find a way to get rid of these parasites before it kills anyone else and exterminate them fromt he colony.

IMO, this was when iot felt like the writers realized what they had with the Triumvarite. At that point it was mainly abotu Kirka dn Spock and hwile Bones got it better than a few of the others, he still didn’t feel... quite there yet. I mean Kelley wans’t evne including int he opening credits until the next season. Here though we have all three with something major going on that’s important. Kirk is trying to figure out how to deal witht he situaiton which has cost him two fmaily members and may cost him his kid nephew. Spock is n pain due tot he parasite but still trying to perform his duties,e ven beaming down to get one of the parasites sicne as he’s already infected, he’s not at risk. McCoy is tryign to figure out how to get rid of the things and is the one having to keep both Spock and Peter alive. These all intersect together and the three just have this great chemistry. Their dynamic isvery mucht he thignt hat I loved most whenw atching the series, and this is when it felt like it clicked into place. The climax isalso heart-breaking. They figure out that bright lightcan kill the parasites, but McCoy is worried about what that intensity can do to Spock. He’s reluctant, but both Kirk and Spock push him to do it and while it’s successful in killing the parasite, it elaves Spock blind. Then Bones finds out that he didn’t need to turn it up that high and would have know had he just waited a few moments. While Spcok accepts it as a necessary loss, Kirk can barley hold back his fury... thoguh I DON’T like how the blame all get put on Boens when Kirk made him do it. Evenw hen Kirk tells Bones later that it wasn’t his fault, just by Bones’ face you can tell that he fully blmes himself.

That does bringmy big criticism though that lande dit at twelve. The ending is... nto good. I mean yay the succeed, but it felt like this was meant to be a two-parter, they couldn’t get the seocnd part, and had to make a hasty resolution to clear up the plot quickly. Not only is Peter’s face never mentioned or do we see Kirk’s reactionw hether good or bad, but Spock... is fine. He had a second eyelid that NEVER comes up again and he had just forgottena bout it. I now that TOS wans’t a serialized show but it not only felt like a waste of some potential story and character development for all three of our boys, but like haivng Spock blindd at all and sending McCoy down that guilt trip was utterly unecessary to begin with because it all happened int he last five minutes. I’mg lad that Spock was okay, and the end where Bones asks Kirk to not tell Spockw hat he said about him being the best First Offficer int he fleet, which Spock ehars and thanks him for half-enuinely, half-jokignly, again it feels like it was unecessary with how lat eit happened and how little impact it ultimateley had. Because of that, it landed here. But it’s still an enjoyable episode that again, felt like when the Triumvirate truly clicked into place and gave us even more good material after,

#11. The Naked Time

When I got to this episode, I had to remember how I quit as a teenager right before this and proceeded to yell ‘why didn’t you just go ONE more episode you idiot?!” to my past self. I really enjoyed this episode mainly for the concept. A virus that erases one inhibitions and self-control. Some of them are wa ky like Sulu with the fencing sword, which was also the most entertaining part of the episode. But it’s still interesting as we see these characters just give into whatever they’re desiring without any sort of thought and it erupts into chaos. It WAS a tad uncomfortable cause... you know, we’re watching a spreading virus that came about cause someone failed to follow proper safety guidelines while we’re living in a pandemic. But that’s not the episode’s fault.

It especially got interesting when Spock got it. This is the fourth episodes aired (I think it’s later in production order but I watched the order Netflix gave me) but even then we saw that Spock was a logical, very in-control character. We din’t know all the details anout him yet or that much about Vulcans, but we’d seen enough to get the general gist of the character. Then due to the cirus, those mental barriers begin to crumble rapidly. The scene where he is alone, trying to force himself to gain control of his emotions and ultimately failing as he breaks down... damn that was an excellent scene. Apparently it was thought of on the spot by Leonard Nimoy and he only had time for one take. Boy did he nail it. That was the moment I became invested in Spock as a character and in his and Kirk’s relationship as Kirk tries to snap him out of it, even risking getting infected himself because he needs Spock. I think that there are episodes that I enjoy more and the weird time travel ending made the ending really weird. Hence why this just barely missed the Top 10. But back when the show mainly gripped me for it’s science fiction concepts, this was a really good episode. It was the first one I went and watched twice before moving to the next one. I’m just so interested in the idea of losing your self-control and how you and others around you deal with it. Maybe it’s the analyst in me talking, but damn those mental concepts always get to me! A fun watch that was essentially the episode that convinced me that yes, this show is good and this time I wasn’t backing out.

#10. Mirror, Mirror

Top 10 now! Here we go! So.. mirror alternate reality. We’ve seen this a billion times in just about every media ever. IDK how common it was when Star Trek did it, but I always love this kind of concept snd seeing how a character would act if things had gone even slightly different. The Mirror Verse is admittedly a little too cartoonishly evil, but does come across as a fascist dictatorship, so I can’t really complain. Anyways, Kirk, McCoy, Scotty, and Uhura and up there and now have to figure out how to get home without anyone catching on that they’re not their counterparts. One thing I love is that it gives Scotty and Uhura some much needed focus and they are both awesome with Scotty being his usual miracle worker self and Uhura kicking ass as she gets info and outright threatens Sulu when he tries to come on to her. God I love that woman~

The Mirror Crew are essentially one-dimensional monsters with the exception or Mirror Spock. He’s still the logical being that we know him as, but much colder and ruthless as well. Yet he still is the closest to matching his usual self and has at least some level of decency compared to everyone else. It’s probably why Kirk was so convinced that he could cause a turn around at the end. He’s not good, but he’s still more good than anyone else on that ship. Yeah the guy who forcibly mind melded McCoy without consent (and how much we judge that I’ve seen varied but I consider it a horrible invasion of privacy that they shouldn’t have brushed off) is still FAR better than anyone else if that indicates how bad this universe is. Seeing his and Kirk’s interactions was super interesitng as clealry Mirror Spock caught on quickly that something was up, but chose to prolong it until near the end. It’s interesitng to observe. I also just love seeing our four heroes handling the situation. They all act effectivlynd manage to keep up the masqurade very well with only Spock and Marlena figuring it out. It’s one of the more diverse ensembles and I wish they had done more diverse dynamics than here, but it was great to see.

I think my only issues aside form McCoy’s potential trauma being glossed over (though I do love how he insisted on saving Mirror Spock and risk not making it home cause damn it, he’s a doctor no matter what) is how we don’t get to see the four’s mirror selves aside form once, where only Kirk gets a characterization as a cartoonishly violent brute. We hear a few things about them like Mirror McCoy’s sickbay essentially being a torture zone, but that’s it. I guess it was due to only having an hour, but I wish we had gotten to see how Spock’s end of things and how he interacts with them aside form Kirk, which that didn’t amount to much anyways. Ah well, fanon has covered both of these pretty extensively from what I can tell, so I shall settle on that. Still it was an enjoyable episode. I’ve seen better Evil Universe stories (nothing’s gonna beat the Justice Lords from Justice League for me tbf), but still a good one with a good ensemble, good character moments, and a unique threatening situation for our heroes to navigate through.

#9. Amok Time

AKA, the episode that more or less created the Slash Genre as we know it. But we’ll touch ont hat later. For now, one thing that I was really hoping for when I got to Season 2 was learning more about Vulcans and their culture. We knew a few things by then, like certain physiological differences between Vulcans and Humans and of course their logical philosophy. But S2 explored them and their culture more, and this was a big one. Spock is acting uncharacteristically agressive and refuses to explain why. Eventually he reveals that he is undergoign Pon Farr, aka going into heat. Unless he goes to Vulcan and does... ugh... mating and soon, he will die. IDK how they got away with this on a 60’s show, but I ain’t complaining. It does that exploration into Vulcans that I was hoping for. Hell we grt to finally see Vulcan... well a section of it but we still got to see it for the first time! It was interesitng to learn about Pon Farr and the rituals that go into it like how maitng works (weird that the logical Vulcan species has arranged marriages, but whatever) and seeing more Vulcans outside of Spock. It’s the kind of world building that does my heart good~

It had a lot of really good moments. Spock explaining everything to Kirk while trying to keep himself from killing him. Chekov being uttelry done with everything as they keephanging course to and from. Ulcan. Spock inviting not only Kirk to the ‘wedding’, but also McCoy, showing that despite their arguments he undoubtedly considers him a close friend. Hell McCoy imo is the true hero of the episode for being the one to catch that something was worng with Spock and his in-genius plan to fake Kirk’s death to keep his two idiot best friends from killing each other without pissing off any Vulcans. Seriosuly, the man needs all the appreciation in existence. And of course, we have the kal-if-fee where T’Pring (great antagonist BTW, will explore her when ai do an a tual review) forces Kirk against Spock. What ensued, while I fully believ eunintentional, forever generated a whole wave of slash and outright invented the term. While I’m not even close to as into Spirk as others, there is no denying how impactful the ship was to fandom culture and to the LGBT+ community. It is a legavy that I hold respect for since it really gave people like myself creativity and enpowerment for over 50 years, and is still generaitng works even now. That is something to respect.

As for it’s placement... the ending was a litle weird. It felt like they didn’t know how to have Spock cured without him either killing someone or doing hanky panky, so he just... gets over it agter thinking that he killed Kirk. It is a good moment, especially his reaction when he sees that Kirk is alive. That was a very justified emotional response that made me smile... and laugh when he tried to deny it haha. ButI find it hard ot buy that a biological funciton like that just... went away. But ah well. It was still an ejoyable episode with some great Vulcan content, McCoy being an underrated badass, and the moments that slash shippers will forever be grateful for. But speaking of slash...

#8. All Our Yesterdays

Sorry Amok Time, but THIS is the slashiest episode in the whole show. While I didn’t get into Spirk much, I got head over heels for Spones. IDK what it was but their dynamic has always been enjoyable and it just... really drew me in. Most of my favorite moments were between this two like the moment in Bread and Circuses and more I’ll go into later, This is essentially The Spones Episode despite what actually happens. Our heroes are to clear a planet that’s sun is about to go supernova, only to find it already gone. Kirk ends up going through a portal when he hears cries for help and when Spock and McCoy go agter him, they end up in an arctic-like area. They were all sent to different points of th eplanet’s past, Kirk in some old timey point and Spock and McCoy even earlier. Now they have to figure out how to get back and survive their situaitons. Kirk’s plot has nothing special tbh and with a few adjustments could have been written out entirely, hence why this is at 8. But Spock and McCoy? Ho boy, their scenes MAKE this episode.

Spock and McCoy try to survive the harsh conditions, the latter almost dying of severe frostbite. He outright tells Spock to abandon him with Spock being VERY adament that that’s not happening. They’re rescued by a woman named Zarabeth and Spock proceeds to spend most of the episode interacting with her while tending to McCoy. Which he gets VERY touchy feely with the latter. Like... a lot more than normal, which tvh the whole seaosm felt that way between those two if what I said about The World is Hollow... counts for anything. Now he DOES end up ‘falling’ for Zarabeth, but there’s a reason for that. Spock is regressing to how his ancestors acted at the time, which was like ‘barbarians’. When amcCoy starts to realize that something’s wrong, it leads to two very intense but really well done scenes with McCoy using logic against Spock to make him realize that he’s lost himself. And while Spock pretty much gave up greitng home due to all of this, McCoy refuses with or without him, even outright going back into the storm to find the portal because damn it, he wants his life back. Then when we find out that Spock and McCoy HAVE to go back together or not at all, it doesn’t take Spock even a second to decide to leave Zarabeth behind. It’s sad because Zarabeth will die a cold, lonely death and she cdoesn’t deserve that at all, so it’s bittersweet. But man next to the katra thing int he films, IDT it gets more symbolic than that.

Like I said, Kirk’s scenes in the past are the only real issue I have since aside form explaining a few things about he situation, feel like they’re just there so that Kirk can still be in the episode prominently. I had some problems with Spock’s OOC behavior, but that got an explanation and has some credibility with how Vulcans are psychically linked. Would explain why McCoy and Zarabeth never seemed to regress. But it was still a good episode with great Spock and McCoy scenes, we FINALLY git a snow environment after forever (and a time travel plot to boot), and a bittersweet but nice ending. Seriously when Spock and McCoy make it back safely and Kirk just touches them on their shoulders in relief is such a nice moment. God I love those three~! Season Three wasn’t a strong season but it still had it’s standouts, and this was very much one of them for me. But I AM biased cause Spones, so take that for what it’s worth!

And that’s enough for now. The last seven will be in another post. Thank you for reading everyone~!

Image Source: TrekCore TOS Gallery

#tos #callie reviews #star trek tos

2 notes · View notes

themonkeycabal · 6 years ago

Note

Slightly random but Hodgepodge request: the end of chapter 4 of Its Alright We'll Be Up All Night from the lady who was being followed's perspective. Just a wee snippet of how that wee interaction went down perhaps? Please.

Well, since you said please:

***

Izzy Taveres just wanted to get home. She was having one of those days — her shift at the restaurant ran over with a huge family party that ended in a brawl and a police raid. The train was late, she missed her bus, and now she had to walk because she couldn't justify paying for a cab for five blocks. All of which meant she was going to be even later, and the babysitter was going to charge her extra. And it just … ugh. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, her uniform smelled like sour wine and marinara sauce, and now she was going to have to take down the laundry before she could go to sleep and she really hoped she could find a few quarters in the couch cushions or the junk drawer. God, what a day.

Sighing softly, she trudged down the sidewalk. It was late enough that the streets were relatively quiet. A handful of cars, not many pedestrians. Which is why her heart jumped when she heard the footsteps start up behind her. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath, and then shook her head. She was being silly. The street was well lit, there may not have been much traffic, but there was *some*, and the neighborhood was a long way from desolate. Still, she pulled her bag a little closer to her body, and slipped a hand into the outer pocket where she had that can of gel pepper spray her sister gave her.

Her steps picked up, and so did her heart rate, as she crossed the eerie black void of a mid-block alley. The footsteps behind picked up with hers and her mouth went dry.

Izzy most definitely did not need this. She really, really did not need this. She could not afford this, absolutely not. She had just enough to get her and Mia through to the end of the next week, and then she'd get paid. If she lost tonight's tips, it would be so much harder. She'd probably have to ask her sister for another loan.

The footsteps got closer. Oh God, she hoped her tips was all they wanted. She had an eight-year old daughter, and while being a single mom was hard, going home to her kid made everything worth it. That's all she wanted, to go home to her daughter. Oh Lord, help her. Please help her.

She thought she felt fingers brush her back and a sharp tang of adrenaline and terror filled her mouth. Pulling out her pepper spray, she hunched her shoulders, and tried to be brave as she turned around to face her attacker. Except, she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut, which probably wouldn't help. However, before she got all the way around, she heard a weird yelp and a thud, and that presence behind her wasn't there anymore.

Prying open one eye, still hesitant, still afraid, she peeked towards the alley as a man in a black leather jacket stepped out dusting off his hands on his jeans. Another, much larger, man turned towards her and held out his hands, trying to show he was harmless. Except he really was huge and she almost straight up hit him with the pepper spray on instinct.

"Our pardon, miss; we didn't mean to alarm you," he said in a deep, accented voice.

Two more men followed behind the first pair, and Izzy backed away and clung, with a shaky hand, more tightly to her pepper spray. Despite the big guy's attempt to appear not threatening, it was late, dark, and she was out-numbered and terrified.

"Hi, I'm Steve," greeted one of the approaching men. The guy next to Steve turned off and murmured something to the man in the jacket and they both stepped into the alley.

"And I'm Thor," greeted the large man.

Wait …

"Thor?" Izzy repeated, feeling dazed from the still swirling churn of fear.

"Yes," the man grinned a broad smile that flashed in the dim light.

"And … Steve? You're not Steve Rogers, are you?" That could not be right. Not even a little bit. But the big guy was both really big and he had long hair and she'd seen plenty of pictures of Thor. And maybe Steve Rogers looked like, you know, Steve Rogers, but it was still kind of dark by the alley and hard to see clearly. Also her eyes were still kind of squinted. The city could really put a freaking light near the alley. Who designed this lighting? That was terrible and dangerous. She was sending somebody a scathing email when she got home; which, thank God, it looked like she actually would.

"I am," he said gently. Then he waved a hand at the other two who had reappeared form the alley. "And this is—"

"Clint," said the guy in the jacket. Then he thumped the back of his hand on the last man's shoulder and said, "Vasily."

"Stop calling me that," the last guy growled. He looked over at Izzy and hesitated a moment before he muttered, "James."

"Okay," Izzy said. She had no idea who Clint and James were supposed to be, but Captain America and Thor were enough to assure her that she was probably safe.

The fear and adrenaline started to drain, leaving her feeling shaky and a giving her a strange, hollow queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

She would NOT throw up in front of Captain America. She wouldn't do it. Mia would never, ever let her live that down. Actually, she wouldn't be telling Mia about 90% of this story, but her daughter would love to hear that Izzy met the Avengers. Or, two of them at least. Or maybe four? One of them could be the guy with the arrows, maybe the blond in the black jacket? Nobody ever got a good look at Hawkeye without his bow, so who could say? And the other guy, long, dark hair to below his chin, didn't look like Tony Stark for sure, and it's not like Tony Stark would introduce himself as James. So … Hulk? What did Hulk look like when he wasn't green? Did anybody know? Except Hulk didn't have long hair. Except, Hulk was also ginormous and green. And if he could turn big and green, maybe his hair changed length, too?

"Ma'am?"

Oh, Steve Rogers was talking to her while she was stuck in her weird post-terror Avengers spiral. "What? Sorry, I was … just trying to get my head together."

"We were wondering if you'd mind if we walked you home?"

"Uh," she hesitated. Yes, she would like four Avengers to walk her home. Duh. But, also, she was a confident woman with a can of pepper spray who wasn't afraid of the streets (except when she was, because somebody had to put a light on that alley and she would make sure it was done if she had to personally shout at every member of the neighborhood council). "It's not far. You don't have to. I appreciate you … uh, doing whatever it was you did? Was there a mugger? Because I thought— well, I thought I heard somebody but then it was just you? But …"

James and Clint cast quick looks into the alley and shrugged. Steve didn't turn around but his smile looked a little tight. Thor just grinned some more. There was totally a mugger. Though, the mugger was probably currently unconscious or tied up or something. Maybe both. Served him right.

"It's no bother," Thor said. "We were on our way home, as well. We can walk together, as friends."

"It's really fine. I'm fine. Thank you. Besides, don't you live in Manhattan?" Yes, yes, please good-looking Avengers, walk her home. Also, stop trying to tell them not to, mouth. God.

"Our friend," Thor gestured to James, "is opening a tavern in the area. We were walking back from … dinner?" He glanced at Steve, who nodded back. "Yes, dinner. We had hotdogs. And ice cream."

"But not together," Clint offered.

Thor nodded. "Because that would be disgusting."

"Right," Clint agreed, then he frowned. "Although…"

"There was the jalapeño ice cream," Thor murmured back at him.

"Mother of God," James muttered and rubbed at his face with a gloved hand.

Why did he have a glove on? It was like 80 degrees out. And only one glove at that. What was he? Michael Jackson? Oh, maybe that wasn't nice. Maybe he had a problem with his hand. And he was embarrassed by scars or something? Or if he was Hulk, maybe one arm was always green? Wow, Izzy, how insensitive.

Wait … he was opening a tavern in the area? Maybe there'd be jobs. It would be amazing to get a decent job closer to home. Actually, she'd love to move out of the area, because it was getting more and more expensive every day, but her apartment was rent controlled and they'd have to cart out her rotting corpse before she gave that up — aside from their daughter, it was the only good thing her ex-husband The Bum ever gave her before he ditched them to go 'find himself' in Jersey. Plus, Mia's school was close and it was a good one. But, anyway …

"Well, thank you again, but I need to get home," Izzy said, and gave them a wave as she turned to head back up the street.

Steve and Thor fell in beside her. She couldn't bring herself to try to shoo them off again. Besides, AVENGERS! The other two walked behind them.

"You know, I think your bar needs a theme," Clint said.

"What do you mean?"

"Something to get people in the door," Clint explained. "Hey! You know what's due to come back? Tiki bars!"

"What's a tiki bar?" James asked sounding like he didn't want to ask but couldn't stop himself from asking.

"They're awesome. I'll show you."

Izzy had some big doubts about the long-term appeal of a tiki bar. The novelty would turn to tacky really quick. And were they ever really 'in'? She glanced over her shoulder and saw them both on their phones.

James snorted a laugh and tilted his phone's screen towards Clint so he could read it. "Darcy says, 'tell Clint to shut up.' Shut up, Clint."

Clint glowered and shoved his phone back in his pocket; there would be no tiki bar. "Darcy's no fun. She used to be fun, but then she started hanging out with you and her fun level cratered."

"You could have Thursday specials," Thor suggested brightly. "I'll bring you a few casks of Asgardian ales. There are several I think you'll like, though you'll have to mix them with something else. They're far too strong for you mortals. But there are no finer brews in any realm." Thor looked at Izzy and winked. "Thursday is named after me, you know. Thor's day."

That was so weird. She knew he was Thor, but somehow it didn't hit her that he was THE Thor. Or, she knew that, but it wasn't real until he said that, and that mean that he was like hundreds of years old. Or thousands? So weird. "I … remember that from school, I think."

Thor chuckled, mostly to himself. "Ah, Midgard. I love this place."

"Uh, where is the bar going to be?" Izzy asked, changing the subject to one her brain could actually wrap itself around.

Clint waved a hand towards the other side of the street. "You know that big hole in the ground on Havermayer?"

"By the bridge, yeah. Oh, there?" That was disappointing, it was a hole in the ground, and holes in the ground weren't anywhere near being a bar. Plus, Izzy didn't work construction. Well, not yet. If the pay was good, she just might. Also, if they'd hire her without her having any experience. But, she was a hard worker and she'd learn. She could sling concrete. Maybe. She was a hair under 5'1", but that couldn't be disqualifying, could it?

James looked reluctant to talk in general, but he nodded and shrugged at the same time like he was talking and trying to be uninterested at the same time. He wasn't rude or anything, just not very present. "The building on the corner."

"Where the Rosebud Family Restaurant used to be," Izzy said, feeling relieved. Not the hole in the ground! Then she scrunched up her nose and made a 'blah' face. "That place was terrible. I don't know how it lasted so long, it was open thirty years. I think I found cigarette ashes in my hashbrowns once."

"Gross," Cling said with a laugh.

Even James chuckled a little. "We won't serve hashbrowns."

This caught Clint's attention again and he asked, "What will you serve? You know what I miss?"

"I don't care what you miss," James said in a flat voice as he glanced away, his eyes scanning the street restlessly. Looking for trouble? Or looking to escape?

"Bratwurst," Clint said, ignoring him. "The hotdogs tonight reminded me. They were okay, but nobody does good brats here. You'd think maybe somebody would, but no. It's a Goddamned crime."

James pursed his lips and looked up at the sky and Izzy couldn't tell if he was thinking about it, or thinking about strangling Clint. "Maybe."

"I know a place in Iowa," Clint pressed, as if he sensed weakness and was going to take advantage. "They sell all sorts of sausage. German family, they've been making them for like a hundred something years. I worked in their warehouse over one winter when I was a kid. I got paid in liverwurst. Awesome job."

"Remember Mr. Sawicki with the hotdog cart, Buck?" Steve asked with a wistful sort of laugh. "He had the best franks in the city, I haven't found any that taste as good."

"I remember," James said quietly. He glanced at Clint, who gave him a triumphant little smirk.

"My guy does awesome frankfurters," Clint confirmed.

With a sigh, giving in, James nodded. "Give Darcy the number."

"My daughter would eat hotdogs for every meal if I let her," Izzy said, chatting with her new Avengers friends, as one does. Friends who were opening a bar and maybe she'd get a job. No! She wasn't going to try to leverage getting nearly mugged into a job. But, they did bring it up.

Steve's face brightened. "You've got a daughter? How old?"

"Eight," Izzy said smiling back. "And if you stick those hotdogs in a disgusting cornbread mess and fry it, you'll have her loyalty forever."

"I love corndogs," Clint said. Izzy didn't know any of them really, but somehow the idea that Clint — or Hawkeye, if that's who we was — loved corndogs didn't surprise her one bit. "We had some good ones back in the circus. Well, if Cookie remembered to change the oil. Sometimes he didn't for a few days." Clint grimaced and looked away.

The circus?

"It'll be a while," James said, looking thoughtfully across the street. "We just got the place last week. Now we've got to gut it. But Darcy wants to strip the brick off the whole building."

Steve nodded. "It's not that bad, but it doesn't fit."

"Not bad?" Clint echoed, his face twisted in disbelief. "It's horrible. The worst of the 70s. You guys are lucky you missed the 70s. I mostly missed them, but I saw the reruns. That was enough."

Izzy knew the building, it was dingy yellow brick and it looked like a horrible, soulless, government box. It was big and yellow and definitely didn't fit with some of the older brick in the neighborhood. "How do you strip brick?" She asked. "Sand blast it?"

James shook his head. "I guess they have to take this off all the way down to the framing."

"That's a lot," Izzy murmured. It would be a looooong time before that bar opened.

"We'll start in a couple days," James told her. "But, yeah, there's a lot to do. Probably won't open until the first of next year."

Izzy tried not to pout, and then started thinking about transitioning into construction work again. Being able to walk to work would be a dream come true.

Steve hummed quietly and gave the other man a sympathetic glance. "Kind of rotten timing — starting up just when Darcy's going out of town."

James ran his hand over his face and sighed. "Fur— uh, Nick will be onsite supervising, at least at the start."

"Nick?" Thor asked. "As in …" he covered one eye with his hand and gave James a leading look. "I thought he was dead."

James dropped his head and looked uncomfortable and ashamed, and like he wanted to go back and hide in the alley with the mugger.

Izzy frowned. Except, maybe she didn't want to know. There was drama and then there was probably Godly and Avengers-level drama that she was maybe better off not knowing about. She was curious, it would make for damned fine gossip, but also, might get her black-bagged and tossed in a secret prison somewhere. She had a daughter who needed her. Curiosity wasn't worth the risk.

Clint jumped in and gave them all a sharp look, before quickly sliding his eyes to Izzy and then back to Thor. "You're thinking of our other friend Nick."

"Oh," Thor said and then he seemed to clue into what they were talking about. Good for him; Izzy was lost. "Our other friend Nick. Unlike this Nick, who is not dead. Nick … Hair … son. Yes, Nick Hairson. Harrison. Such a … magnificent head of hair. Not as magnificent as my own, of course, but very nice."

They were crossing under a streetlight, but it was still not exactly day time bright, so Izzy couldn't be sure, but it looked like a little bit of Thor himself died inside when he said all that. The Avengers were horrible liars. Which, she supposed, is what you'd hope for from heroes and role models. And, as a regular person, it was nice to know that even the Avengers could be really bad at something. It balanced the universe.

Izzy saw the lights over her building's front entrance and let out a slow, quiet breath. She made it. With help, but she made it. This long, horrible day that almost went so much worse, but somehow ended up just kind of strange, was almost over. She still had to do laundry, which sucked, and pay the babysitter, which also kind of sucked. But, she made it home safely.

"This is me," she said, waving towards the front doors. "Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate it."

"Of course," Steve said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. "I'm sorry, I don't think we ever asked for your name."

"Izzy Taveres."

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Taveres."

Steve gave her hand a friendly shake, and then Thor was next, wrapping his giant paw around her little hand. She felt like a toddler next to him. Good lord, he was huge.

"A pleasure, miss."

"Oh, hey," Steve said, as she was now shaking Clint's hand. "What's your daughter's name? I've got something for her." And he pulled a trading card out of his wallet. She saw the Avengers 'A' and his picture in uniform.

James made a sound like a stifled laugh. "You carry around Captain America cards?"

Steve firmed up his jaw and gave the other man a flat look. "Sometimes there's kids."

"Her name's Mia," Izzy said and, okay, today mostly sucked, but the look on Mia's face when she gave her the card would be worth it all. The kid was going to light up like a Christmas tree. It was very thoughtful of him to carry them around, James. Don't be a jerk. Which she, of course, didn't say out loud; she was still hoping for that job.

Steve nodded and took a pen out of his jacket and carefully wrote 'To My Friend Mia' and then his name across the card.

"Now me," said Thor, taking the card and signing his own name. Next he handed it to Clint, who signed it 'Hawkeye' with an arrow as the crossbar on the "H".

James waved his hand, "I'm not one of you jokers." Ah, okay, he wasn't the Hulk. James also didn't shake Izzy's hand, and he hung back away from them a bit, part of the group but also still a little uncomfortable about it. He didn't ignore her, though, and he dipped his head at her in a little bow and offered a little smile. "Ma'am."

Izzy carefully took the card from Clint and waved it in the air to dry the ink so it wouldn't smear. "Well, thanks again guys. Mia will love this."

"Sure thing," Steve said. "Have a nice evening."

There were a trio of additional goodbyes and then the four men started back down the street. Thor's laughter echoed against the buildings and at one point James shoved Clint into the street and Steve yanked him back onto the sidewalk.

Taking out her keys, Izzy unlocked the security door, and trudged up the stairs, her exhaustion on hold as she planned out the carefully edited, but still exciting story she'd tell about how Mom Met the Avengers.

Izzy looked down at the card in her hand and laughed. The Avengers. What a crazy night.

#my fic #fic bit #the hodgepodge #a boy's night extra #i'll polish and put it in the hodgepodge later #Anonymous

61 notes · View notes

nellie-elizabeth · 6 years ago

Text

Arrow: Fadeout (8x10)

I don't really know what to say. I wish I felt differently, but this finale left me feeling a little bit underwhelmed! But let's get into the specifics.

Cons:

So first of all, Oliver's final fate is that he dies, creates a new world that's better for everyone, and then gets to reunite with Felicity in some sort of pocket world there at the very end. Here's the thing that's tripping me up - this is still just straight-up a tragedy. So he brings his mom and Tommy and Quentin Lance back from the dead but he never gets to see them? And more importantly, he still doesn't get to raise his kids. I get that it's supposed to be this big sacrifice, like, in his final act he finally did what he always set out to do and he "saved his city." But it's just kind of too sad for me, to be the ending of Oliver Queen.

Related to that is the problem I've already discussed in the past two episodes. We have episode eight, which was the Crisis crossover thing, then episode nine, which was a backdoor pilot... so Oliver's fate, dying the way he does, surrounded by people from other shows, doesn't really feel appropriate to the story of Arrow as a whole. Everything about the Crisis is disconnected from the beating heart of eight seasons worth of buildup. It's someone else's big bad, some other characters' final stand. It doesn't feel like it should have been Oliver's.

Since I won't be watching the spin-off and I don't watch any of the other shows in the Arrowverse, I don't want to get too bogged down in the weeds on this, but I'm a little bit confused - why do most people forget/not remember the Crisis? In the spin-off future it looked like Dinah and Laurel found each other and were just then realizing that they weren't the only ones who remembered. But they're together at Oliver's funeral, and everyone there seems to know the full deal. Did something happen in the intervening years? Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but if Oliver's sacrifice is supposed to be worth it, doesn't it suck that in the future, the Green Arrow is needed once more, as Star City falls again into crime and disaster?

You know I loved seeing Thea, and Roy, and Tommy, and Moira, and Quentin Lance... but some of these returns rang a little hollow. Why do I love Tommy? Because he's Oliver's best friend. But we don't get to see them interact. We don't get to see Oliver with Moira or with Thea or Roy one final time. It all goes back to the fact that Oliver and Felicity reuniting is sweet and I'm glad it happened... but it still feels like only partial happiness for Oliver.

This is a nitpick, but Thea is right about Roy's timing being for shit... William is still missing when Roy decides to rehash their breakup and propose. Dude, save it for when you know the kid is safe!

Also, I try not to be too critical about things that the writers can't do anything about, and I know that actor availability is the reason why Felicity wasn't in this final season. But the fact that she shows up for Oliver's funeral, leaving baby Mia with a sitter, just emphasizes how stupid and pointless it was that she remained in hiding the whole season. Oliver was around for a lot of it. When he was taken to go to the Crisis, there was still plenty of time for him to run around dealing with smaller issues as he prepared for it. Why oh why would he and Felicity not have seen each other in the intervening months?

Pros:

The biggest compliment I can give this episode is that they decided to make it more of an epilogue. We had a chance to spend some time with all (or most) of the key characters from seasons' past, and the conflict of the episode was a brief kidnapping incident with William, which was resolved swiftly and allowed for the seeds of Mia's journey to continue to be planted, all while commenting on Oliver's journey and how much he's grown since Season One.

Even though Oliver wasn't there for most of it, this episode still truly felt like a tribute to him. So even though I have my complaints about his ultimate fate, I'm still glad that there was this chance to reflect on his hero's journey, and really let his sacrifice sink in for all of the characters whose lives he's changed for the better.

John Diggle loves Oliver so very much, and it was probably him, more so than any of the other characters, who made me feel my feelings. He has the most trouble letting go of the "mission," because letting go of Oliver's life's purpose feels like admitting he's really gone. I loved the speech he gave at the graveside, loved the way he offered comfort to Felicity, and how ultimately, he finds a way to accept that this part of his life is over. It was sweet to see John and Lyla moving on to the next stage of their lives (we're just going to ignore that Lyla was kind of a villain this season, huh?). And that little teaser, where we see John getting what I assume to be the Green Lantern ring, was really compelling and fun. It makes sense that he wouldn't be ready to hang up his hero cloak. Diggle is always going to show up when people need him.

Despite Roy's less than stellar timing, I'm also big in my feelings about seeing him and Thea get engaged. Felicity and Oliver are an epic love story for sure, but Thea and Roy really have something special, and it was so lovely to see that culminate for them. Much like with Diggle's final moment, this moment for Thea and Roy felt like the beginning of a new adventure.

Another moment that really landed for me was Laurel talking to Quentin. She wonders why the original Laurel didn't come back, like Tommy and some of the others. And Quentin says that nothing about this Laurel needs to be fixed. It's sad that Laurel died, but what Oliver did wasn't simply to erase every sad thing that had ever happened to him. He put right some avoidable tragedies, but the shape of this world is still the one we've been living in for the past eight seasons. And Earth Two Laurel is a part of that. She's earned her place in it. I loved that!

I also loved every frame we got of Tommy Merlyn, of course. Apparently he and Laurel were married, which is just delightful! And he gets to live with the knowledge that even though Oliver is gone, he has the opportunity to live on because of his sacrifice. I'm so happy to see him, and to know that he gets to stay alive!

As much as I had some problems with this episode as a whole, there were definitely several moments within it that I enjoyed. Along with what I've already mentioned, I have to give a shout-out to Nyssa's "my beloved" moment with Sara, and Barry and Kara both giving Felicity a hug at the funeral, and Rory telling Rene that he and Oliver have a lot in common, and Mia showing her weapons to her "older" brother William.

Speaking of Mia - I love that Sara brought her to attend her father's funeral. We're going to ignore how stupid it is that William is still apparently kidnapped in the future, and that Sara didn't think to snag him as well... whatever. It's cool. It was great that Mia could be there, could don the hood and save young William. And could see her mother. Poor Felicity is in the middle of intense grief over Oliver's death, but seeing her daughter, learning what the future holds for her, is something of a balm. Their hug was another highlight of the episode for me.

I think I'm going to end things here. I wish the "cons" section of this review wasn't so long. I wish this episode had felt the way I wanted it to feel. Honestly, 8x07 felt more like a culmination of Oliver's journey than anything we've gotten since. Trying to wrap up a show that lasted for eight seasons is a hard task, but to do it while also having to contend with this crazy crossover event made it even more challenging. Unfortunately, I don't really feel that Arrow went out on a high note, despite this finale having some lovely character moments.

For this finale, I'll give a score of...

6.5/10

As is tradition, I must try to come up with a score for the show as a whole. I've got to say, the early seasons of Arrow were exactly my kind of shit. I loved the mix of the superhero origin story with the almost soap-opera-esque drama of the Queen family. I liked that the show went dark, and that major characters died early and often, and that Oliver got to be that tortured hero with a heart of gold and questionable morals. As the show went on, I definitely think it lost some of what made it magical, but even the later seasons featured some great times with characters I had grown to care deeply about over the years. I'm glad I watched Arrow, even if this final season was a bit hit and miss for me. As a final score, I'll say...

8/10

#review #arrow #arrow review

2 notes · View notes

hayleysstark · 7 years ago

Note

(PT 2 of 2). I also wanted to say that, unfortunately, my Netflix account is going to be cancelled soon, so I can't watch all of Merlin. Can you recommend any must-see episodes?

Ugh, for real? That sucks, Queenie, I’m sorry. (I mean, I get it, things like Netflix are luxuries, but luxuries are nice to have around, and it’s tough to lose one, and I’m sorry that you have to.) To tell the truth, I really,,,,, don’t know if separate episodes can really stand on their own? I mean, don’t get me wrong, a solid ninety percent of the episodes are great, and absolutely worth the watch, but they all feel ((at least to me. maybe I’m alone in this)) like just scattered pieces of a whole until you put them all together into the series. But I think I can rustle up a solid handful that’ll still give you a good feel for the show as a whole ((and help you decide whether you want to continue it when you can - this series really isn’t for everyone.))

1x13: Le Morte D’Arthur: The entirety of S1 is really Merlin at its absolute best--smooth, believable dialogue, excellent comedic timing, wonderful plot structure, characterizations that are just to die for--but let’s be honest, this one, the S1 finale, is the one that takes my breath away. Colin Morgan and Anthony Head are both superb in their respective roles as the titular character and the hotheaded, short-sighted King Uther, and this episode is where they both just shine. Bradley James (Arthur) doesn’t receive a whole lot of screentime in this one, unfortunately, but there’s no denying he’s the center of the episode, and the moments we do get to see him, he’s just as incredible as the other two. The scenery is gorgeous, the worldbuilding is fantastic, and the emotion, oh, the emotion. Colin Morgan delivers some of his absolute rawest lines in this one. He knows when to play up the rage, the grief, the terror, and--I don’t say this lightly, but it’s really nothing short of flawless. Also, I’m in love with the villain. Her name is Nimeuh. I’m going to marry her someday. I am in love with that woman. she’s beautiful.

2x01: The Curse of Cornelius Sigan: This one is nothing on Le Morte D’Arthur in terms of plot, dialogue, or emotion, but damn if it isn’t the funniest fucking episode in the entire series. It’s essentially just a fun romp. The villain is so Obviously Evil, and of course no one else in Camelot SEES that he’s evil except Merlin. And Merlin??????? a petty, jealous bitch?????? yes absolutely. oh my god this one is just hilarious you would not believe.

2x08: The Sins of the Father: Finally, an episode where we get to see the true depth of Bradley James’ talent!! Really, his performance sells the entire episode in and of itself, but this one’s got plenty more to recommend it as well. Anthony Head returns as brilliant as ever, of course, and we get introduced to yet another incredible villain. Nowhere near as fleshed-out as Nimeuh, but this lady’s definitely got spunk, and she’s just fun to watch overall. Merlin’s warring loyalties are put into conflict yet again, Arthur gives his asshole father the call-out of the century, honestly, what more could you want? And we get to see a much softer side of Arthur as well, one that almost never reappears again - which is a real shame, by the way, considering how well Bradley James does strong emotions.

2x09: The Lady of the Lake: okay this one. this one does. it doesn’t. it doesn’t need to be on the list. it really doesn’t. but Merlin gets a ladylove and it’s absolutely BEAUTIFUL and everyone can shut their mouths. the girl he falls for?? 10/10. would die for her. she is beautiful and sweet and amazing and she dOES NOT DESERVE ALL THE PAIN SHE HAS SUFFERED I LOVE HER. I WOULD TAKE A BULLET FOR HER.

2x13: The Last Dragonlord: ahhh here we go!! This one’s the one. This one’s where it’s at. This episode has absolutely everything I initially started watching Merlin for - knights, dragons, sword fights, branches of magic no other fantasy series has yet explored, and to top it all off, Colin Morgan AGAIN goes above and beyond in his performance. I am convinced there’s nothing this man can’t do anymore. i would fight and die for the last dragonlord. both the episode and the dragonlord himself.

3x04: Gwaine: if you take nothing else away from this series, then for fuck’s sake, remember that Gwaine is, objectively speaking, beautiful. honestly. what a bastard. what a gorgeous, gorgeous bastard.

4x01 (and 4x02): The Darkest Hour: honestly incredible. i weep. the knights are such bros and look, Arthur has feelings, and hE’S GOT A SMARMY-ASS UNCLE NNNN I HATE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK I HATE HIM HIS NAME IS LORD FUCKING AGRAVAINE AND I WILL HATE HIM UNTIL MY DYING DAY and Merlin gets whumped!! excellent, perfect, 10/10. three cheers for Merlin whump.

4x03: The Wicked Day: ohhhh gosh just a whole bundle of emotions here. Merlin is trying his best. Arthur deserves better. Gaius watches with a raise of his infamous eyebrow. Everything goes to hell. Merlin still tries his best. that’s it. that’s the whole show.

4x04: Aithusa: I SWEAR IM NOT GOING TO RECOMMEND EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF S4 ((well maybe I am but that is because S4 is amazing and i am a GARBAGE HEAP.)) THERE ARE JUST. A LOT OF GOOD ONES. RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING. ghjhyghgb okay this one is just??? really good in general?? More dragons!! More knights being bros!!! And some serious character development on Merlin’s part like holy hell I don’t remember him having em that big in S3. this dude is getting what he wants and that is Just That.

4x06: Servant of Two Masters: okay let’s be real this one has a super intense start - in the first three minutes, Merlin is given a fatal wound, with a fucking MACE, no less - but honestly, at about the fifteen-minute mark, it just?? turns into comedy gold??? Merlin Emrys’ entire existence is a power move for forty straight minutes. he is Salty. he is Sassy. he is an absolute, stone-cold, unforgiving bitch. he takes no one’s shit. he will come for you and your family, and probably your hopes and dreams, too. he will stop at nothing. It’s somehow funnier when you stop and think about how genuinely sweet he usually is. this is just the most complete and comedic turnaround, and I love it.

4x12 (and 4x13): The Sword in the Stone: HERE’S where the myth and the series really start to collide. congratulations, only took 4 entire seasons. still kind of irritates me that the sword in the stone is Excalibur. what can you do. a lot of retellings condense. understandable but annoying as all hell. Arthur’s character arc comes to an admittedly unsatisfying end, but Tristan and Isolde make a cursory appearance, so that’s something I wasn’t expecting. Also, Merlin’s S4 character arc comes to an AMAZING head like wtf. we did not deserve that. Merlin Emrys is chaotic and vengeful.

5x03: The Death Song of Uther Pendragon: listen,,,,,, listen,,,,,,, this one serves Literally No Purpose and Does Not Need to be on here. it doesn’t advance the plot. it doesn’t build toward anything whatsoever. it’s just really fucking hilarious. it’s Arthur and Merlin being bros. Uther is his usual bastard self. Gwen is beautiful and we do not deserve her. Sir Leon makes an appearance and is very confused. Sir Leon is extremely relatable.

5x05: The Disir: Admittedly not my favorite, just??? not my favorite. But it really does take Merlin’s character in an absolutely stunning direction that still blows me away to this day, and it’s worth the watch just for that alone. Very dark episode though, very sad. Kind of has a “hopeless” vibe going tbh so. (May need to watch 1x08, The Beginning of the End, to get a bit of backstory for this one.)

5x08: The Hollow Queen: YOU WILL PRY THIS ONE FROM MY COLD DEAD FINGERS IT SERVES NO PURPOSE IT ADDS NOTHING TO THE PLOT BUT MERLIN GETS WHUMPED SO MUCH??? EMOTIONAL. PHYSICAL. IT’S ALL HERE. HE SUFFERS SO MUCH. IT’S GREAT. IT’S INCREDIBLE. maybe watch the two before it ((The Dark Tower and A Lesson in Vengeance)) before, though, because it’s kind of hard to understand unless you’ve got backstory lmao.

5x10: The Kindness of Strangers: More Merlin whump on every side, but this one also gives us our first (and only) look into Merlin’s position in the magical community? We don’t get to see him interact with people like him a whole lot over the course of the series, and who he actually is, what he represents, to his kind as a whole, is often left very fuzzy. There’s just a lot of confusion surrounding it, and this episode goes a pretty long way toward clearing that up.

And of course the series finale should be on here, but ehh. not that great tbh. really dropped the ball if we’re being honest. SO. those are. all of them. not really going to give you a sense of the full scope of the series dfhffgfdfgb probably just going to confuse the hell out of you and give you a sudden, insatiable thirst for Merlin whump ((which I can sate w/ fic recs. do you want fic recs. I’ve got fic recs. so many authors love to torment this man.)

ANYWAY THOUGH. I hope this helped!! <3 sdfgfgfgb pLEASE let me know if you watch these episodes b/c I have a Mighty Need to Scream abt them.

#merlin #bbc merlin #ask #queenie #Anonymous

144 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 6 years ago

Photo

@uberoll-oystercrackers late night (early morning?) posting here but this is super nice ty and also again retroactively thank you additionally for all the long replies & kind tags you give

like really yeah it’s like, on the one hand, it’s fairly sucky having to have this thing where im always jumping the gun on considering someone Maybe An Friend and then having to remind myself / be reminded of the fact that like no probably not, which is true and yet sucks, which is just how some stuff is!! like sometimes stuff just is Not Good and is not ever going to Not Hurt, despite the fact you can kinda get better at living with it. and like this one isnt a huge deal even tho the larger problem of when ur like, lonely &/or isolated is kind of a whole real deal……

like it’s strange having these contradictory problems with it…..like, Being Myself has never really just been something i can Naturally do, so even just trying to be nice is like oh lord am i being ~manipulative~, and im always too prone to treat interactions like ive got to placate the other person, and then also just like….not having amazing social skills anyways in the sense that i know a lot of times i come across ~off~ to people and can’t really do a lot about that, but also, i feel like i’m always overcompensating for like, enthusiasm and just the fact i like to Get Silly and maybe i’ll act too cool~n~collected or come off like im trying to be all Smart and Smarmy and like jeez no……it doesnt help that when i was younger i generally preferred interacting with adults and so probably was trying to come across as clever and when i was wanting someone to like me i’d be real nervous and try to go too hard in seeming the opposite lol……oh the legacy of the time i found out my mom’s childhood friend who was funny and cool to us thought i was bookish (true) but like also snobby or something lmao like ah jeez i probably made too many sarcastic jokes about things….but oh well i was just like 10-ish at the time.

anyways tho i feel like that still kicks in and when i get the sense someone is cool and it’d be cool if they thought i was cool too i’m like Well So Then i gotta PLAY it cool!! and then like oh no am i coming across as a jerk? or an trying-to-be-an-intellectual?? i always have a lot of thoughts and i do go off when its like, also tied in to Opinions of mine, so im like, oh no am i coming across as trying to tell someone i think they should think exactly this?? or if i try to Be Witty and Tell Jokes are they just coming off as snarky b/c i hope not especially since a lot of times my actual Lighthearted Snark gets read as “i hate this and think its dumb af” lol. ahhhh i just do not know!! like, i wanna sort of dial back my Warmth b/c i can get enthused fast and i have a tendency to get too attached to ppl too fast, which really only sucks for me, but still!! yet i dont wanna rein it in too much and try to overcompensate and come off like im Eternally Unimpressed and don’t really care and etc etc and just…..idk its wild it’s hard to tell how i may be socializing awkwardly lmao ahhh….and on top of it all, i manage to be godawful at realizing when other ppl actually like me. like, that sort of sounds like The Opposite but i guess its just more of that problem of thinking that im going to always bother people….a lot of times it takes me like, months or a year (or two or three) to realize that someone who willingly interacts w me during that time probably does genuinely like me and is maybe a friend. wrow

uhhhh anyways lord that was all just. tangentially related. im Tangents

UH more to the point!!!! the good news is that yeah i don’t have to think “oh we’re totally real bffs” about anyone to really enjoy and appreciate Our Interactions…..and like i do have real appreciation and gratitude for basically all nice attention lol like, if a single reblog of smthing has kind comments, if someone cool just Likes a few posts, talking on occasion or like, ever at all. cuz for real The Little Stuff has always been a really good thing for years now, especially since there’s been plenty of times i havent really had anything happening In Person that was like….good interactions or ppl who were able to hear my actual thoughts and feelings about whatever and still be interested in interacting with me. cuz in terms of not being isolated and in what i find it easy to talk about and how, Online Interactions have been genuinely important and impactful in a positive way for like a solid decade now since i was able to be consistently Online and have my own accounts and stuff in the first place

so like yeah totally i really do appreciate stuff like that. i think its pretty incredible whenever anybody just like, thinks of me, and likes me. having None Of That Feeling is supremely trash and i so appreciate that i don’t have to feel like there’s nothing and that nobody out there in the world is aware of me, and yet i don’t need it to be that like, anyone is Constantly aware of me and like, intensely invested, cuz that’s just not how it goes lol and even kinda meaning a little bit to someone and having my tiny presence in their life be a positive one is a great thought and i really do appreciate it. Unfortunately for like….my entire life, The Contempt Of Others has been a consistent #thing i’m dealing with and it’s not great!! like yeah fortunately ive had the “felt so bad about myself that it eventually circled back around and now self loathing isnt too much of an issue for me” thing, but it still sucks experiencing it lol…..having any testimonials that like, whatever shit im talking about @ myself is fun to read, or i seem okay, or its fun to talk, etc etc, like thats fantastic really

and the kinds of leaf thoughts too, yeah, that kind of thing is nice to know too lol. i was hoping you were ok like, ten hours before i saw you posting again lol…..we’re out here……..

like yeah ldmbgglh whatever my weird problems are with being overexcited abt any Potential Friendship, and also being bad at realizing if people do like me, and also just being Weird and not great at talking, and overcompensating for whatever and maybe coming across too Coldly when rly im a fiery dumbass, wanting friends but also wanting not to be burned by getting ahead of things and being reminded that most ppl aren’t like, as starved for even just friendly interactions……..i’m better at navigating and handling it in some ways but c’est a m’ess!!! aaaggbfg

really what im trying to say is i do appreciate that sort of thing a lot yeah. i could very well Not be thought of by anybody and that would suck and the fact that i get to know that i am is a really great thing. maybe i couldve said this all better last night cuz i was kinda in my feelings abt Life a little but then also it was in a sort of déspresso way so, maybe this is okay lol….

also i worry i don’t express affection and appreciation enough!!! it’s not that i’m like Oh i don’t want to Commit to Being Friends ew…..it’s that i don’t wanna be the one pressuring someone else into being like uh oh i have to play up being invested in milo!! but then maybe my playing-it-cool just makes other ppl do the same thing or think i don’t care or something. like oh i appreciate this person a ton and think they’re great and they’ve been kind to me but if we only talk so often and obviously im not There for them and involved in their life in the way a ~real friend~ would be, maybe it would just ring hollow to say i love them, for example. lord lol……. it’s all “oh don’t dial down your kindness and affection” and yet also “but don’t wanna inadvertently push other people or Be Weird or get myself invested in something where i don’t mean as much to the other person not cuz they suck but because like, of course im just a fun internet acquaintance, which is fine!!” ahhhhhh the challenges. anyways!!!!!!!

the point is well i do like ppl yeah and i really appreciate ppl liking me. every now and then they do it online or even in person and thats just a Joy and i wish things were more secure!!! i also have to not even necessarily want ppl to get invested in me in case things go to shit too soon or whatever and it doesnt help that ~being open~ means talking abt depressingass stuff sometimes that like, i don’t mind being open about, but i also don’t want to put on other ppl. which, sidenote on that, im feeling relatively alright all these recent months even if im not technically thriving; it’s okay. it’s a hot mess! but that’s just How It Is sometimes!! it’s what it is. and ive had support from ppl in big and small ways that i know i could have had to go without and all the ways ppl are nice to me count for a whole lot and i have appreciated it, and do appreciate it, and will continue to appreciate it.

tldr 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#7:05am who up!! im nocturnal. im a vampire. a cool vampire. jk not sexy enough #unsexy vampire rights!!!#unsexy nocturnal me getting reckless and saying into the mic: Hey. I Love Y’all. Yeehaw

10 notes · View notes

thenervousmedic · 7 years ago

Text

A coffee a day... (Connor X Reader)

Note : (Dying noises)

Word count : just over 3k.

Chapter 6 : Lose one thing to gain another.

Teenagers can be so cruel.

At a time in your life where every little interaction means the world to you, outside influence can change an angel to a brat or a shy girl into a monster.

Fortunately for you, bullies didn't get to you very often. If anything you found their dumb insults funny because of the many vastly better ones you had already thought of. Just calling you ‘Fat’ or ‘ugly’ wasn't enough anymore- if they wanted a fight they'd have to work for it.

That being said… you had a pretty big weakness. Other bullied students.

You hated watching them get torn to shreds by some tough guy dumbass and their trio of mindless minions.

“G-Gavin, please, I j-just need to get past-” A small, dorky looking, man cried out as he was pushed into the dirt. His glasses skidding across the gravel towards your feet. The bullies shouted mean things, but you barely noticed, interrupting their enjoyment with a rough punch to his face. It stung your knuckles like hell, but the look of shock they gave you was more than worth it.

“Go fuck yourself, Gavin.” You spat harshly as they turned tail to tell a teacher on you; the runty child at your back dusting himself off.

“T-thanks…” He fumbled with his glasses, sliding them awkwardly up a wonky button nose. “You didn't have to.”

“Of course I did.” You scoff proudly, holding yourself a lot more confidently than your new companion. “Come on, you're staying with me now, they won't bother you anymore.What is your name?”

He stares at you, at a complete loss for words, before nodding briskly and taking your hand. “My name Is J-Jayden, you?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, I must insist you rest-”

“Nuh-uh. You said I should help if I could, so I'm going to help.” Your determination came off as stubbornness but it was all in good intentions. Today was going to be a slow day, but if you could at the very least stay with your two guardians during their work hours you'd feel a little less awkward about being left in Hanks home by yourself.

“Hank, how do I get them to cooperate-” It was then you noticed him watching the two of you. Clearly finding this funny, a big shit eating grin plastered to his muzzle. The lack of drinking the night before meant to hangover- something Hank sometimes wished he had anyway to tolerate Connors non-stop working demeanor.

“Give up, Connor, it's not worth getting your wires in a twist.”

“My wires can't get twisted, lieutenant, they're not-”

“For fucks sake, just forget it-” It was your turn to grin like a dumbass as Connors lip twinged into a tiny smirk. If you didn't know better you'd think Connor was annoying his partner on purpose.

“Don't be too hard on Puppydroid, he's still learning to adapt to your attitude.” You and Hank share an amused glance at one another. Connor suddenly looking a little lost in the conversation.

“In that case he's got a whole lot to adapt to.”

“You don't say?”

The face you made, the rising inflection in your tone, Hank knew what you just referenced and tried not to reply in a joking manner. He had a job to do, as annoying as that was, and the idea of Connor reminding him yet again how much time they were wasting just pissed him off internally.

“Would you like me to catch you up on what we discovered last night? Y/N made some very interesting connections.”

A grumble was all Connor got as everyone left the house, taking that as an invitation to continue. “Y/N brought a speech made by Mr.Kamski to my attention. It has mention of the codeword we are using for our connective focus. Biocode. It sounds like, as well as our mechanical coding, androids have been embedded with experiences that predate our creation.”

“It's like putting your actual thoughts into someone else's head!” You added In the moment Connor paused to let Hank process the information.

“So wait.-" His pace slowed slightly, allowing for the three of you to walk side by side Instead of slightly behind his lead. “-You're suggesting androids have emotions and free will hidden in their code before they deviate? That's insane.”

Connor frowned, clearly wanting to defend your discovery as the police station lurked in the distance. “It would explain the sudden rise in Deviant reports. As well as make sense of how deviancy spreads so easily. Anyone with the key to unlock that source code could potentially deviate anyone they come into contact with. What's worse is that… It might be manipulated if someone knows how to access it.”

“And what about you, Connor, huh?” The way Hank’s growl turned aggravated gave you a sense of caution. How was it a man with only his voice could make you feel safe one moment then urge you to keep away from them the next? “If your ‘theory’ is right, that makes everyone a deviant, just waiting to realise it. That means technically you’re a-”

“I am not a deviant, I have a mission to complete and that’s what I intend to do.” You noticeably flinched as Connor raised his voice, something you’d not seen him do before. That calm analytical tone was all you were used to, not the sudden burst of anger that had just snapped beside you. His face softened on noticing the concern in your eyes. The abrupt change in temperment sent errors up in his sight here and there.

Hank sighed, it was long, heavy, like someone just let the air out of a very old balloon. “Yeah. You’re right… like you’d give a damn about anything other than the fuckin’ mission.” It was like the witty banter you all shared moments ago had never happened. Something electrical and stone cold squeezed your heart tightly; threatening to break it. A figurative dark cloud hanging over everyone despite the bright sunshine that shone overhead.

Your opinion was an unpopular one. That deviants didn’t need ‘fixing’, that they felt love and hate and everything in between, and your now-gone friend Adam was proof of that. He had dreams and aspirations He was so nice and continued to do his job even after deviating because of how much he enjoyed it. But now you’d…. Never see him again.

It hit you like a truck. Loss, realisation, anger, denial. Everything at once crashed onto your throat making you unable to join in the conversation to ease the tension.

Neither Connor nor Hank seemed to notice, your blank warm-hearted smile masking the inner workings that started to scream out his name. It wasn't too bad. You told yourself it was fine. The guilt you felt at forgetting him so easily, the need to tell him you were sorry, strangled out as a strained cough amongst the silence. It came out almost like a choking sound, Connor’s head turning sharply to look at you with hollow eyes, your composure faltering for but a small second before you started walking regularly again.

It was a lot all at once, but you would handle it… they didn't need to know...

The police station was quite nice, a mix of modern technology and design without compromising any accessibility. People sat at their workplaces in neat uniform with equally neat desks save for a few here and there that were less organised than the others. As always it made you nervous. You had nothing against cops, most of them were really nice people, it’s just the force behind them. People armed to the teeth with ways to subdue and kill you, people trained to appear friendly even if they dislike you in order to uphold the precincts reputation. That being said, there were also plenty of shitty law officers who would gladly talk shit for the sake of doing so. Come to think of it-

“Oh goodie, here comes the walking calculator.” Most everyone, including Connor, completely ignored the voice that approached from afar. Hank headed to his desk, not looking back, as Connor’s path was blocked by a slightly shorter man. He wore scruffy messy clothing, barely enough to make him look like he actually cared about his job, with just as messy brown hair spiking out in all directions. You had to hide an angry grin at noticing the name on his jacket and the crooked scar across his nose. “Got yourself a girlfriend, huh?”

As he squared his gaze with yours the defiant smile you wore was enough to catch him by surprise. “Hi Gavin.” You growled, very uncharacteristically hostile toward the officer as he continued to get in Connor's way. “How’s your face?”

“Better than yours by the looks of it.” He grumbled back, much to Connor’s confusion as you two continued to glare at one another like your eyes were doing all the fighting. He huffed, leaning against the wall in front of you two. “Look who isn’t an officer-”

“Look who is still an asshole-”

“Y/N, please, we have work to do.” Connor’s hand reached for your shoulder as the rivalry escalated, your nerves tingling at the thought of getting to have another fight with your long-time childhood opponent. But he was right. You couldn’t fight him here, it’s literally a police station, and your wound wouldn’t exactly fair well from a scrap either. You shrugged his hand away from your side, crossing your arms with an irritated pout before following Connor as you both walked around Gavin. “You know Officer Reed?” His curiosity was inevitable considering what just occurred.

“Yes. I know Gavin.” The spite in your voice had obviously intrigued the android since he wouldn't stop staring at you expectantly.

“You don't seem to like each other.”

“I broke his nose.” You pointed out, motioning to your own nose before flicking a glance back at Gavin (Who was now sauntering his way to the break room like your conversation never happened.) God you hate Gavin.

“Oh…” Connor’s face expressed an awkwardness that made you smile again, it seems he realised that this conversation would be best left for later. “Well, lets focus on the task at hand.”

You were right, today was gonna be a long one, the time seemed to tick on almost as slowly as when you were at your real job. Though it wasn’t really a bad thing, you had plenty of time to watch Hank yell at his boss and glare at Gavin from across the room.

You didn’t want to mention anything about it to Connor, but Gavin had liked you quite a lot in high school… you hated admitting when you were wrong, but you knew for certain that back then you had done plenty of wrong deeds. It was such a shame. Gavin had started out so promising, charming even, and yet during his time with you he just got meaner and meaner. Beating up Jayden was the last straw for you back then, you couldn’t just stand aside and enable his bad habits.

To be truthful you hadn’t meant to break his nose… turns out you punch a hell of a lot stronger than you might think.

“Y/N, come look at this.” Hank had finally said something after seemingly being pissed off at connor for several hours. You jumped at the opportunity to get involved, jogging light bouncy steps to his side of the desk before leaning over to look at his screen.

Rumours of the mass-hostage situation had already gone public, people were ranting all sorts of nonsense online, people were even videoing themselves throwing their androids down pits or off of bridges. Tearing limbs off, beating them with bats, setting them on fire. You could see the fear in their eyes, the pure terror, the complete hopelessness as they bled out blueblood onto the floor.

“Do you think- Hey, you alright?” You hadn’t realised you were tearing up until Hank closed the page and held your arm tightly. “Easy kiddo…”

“I-I’m ok.” you smiled, sniffling while rubbing your eyes roughly with your sleeve. Mind reeling from the sudden outburst of information in your head. “-Just forgot to blink is all.”

But it was too late. You only barely held it together earlier, seeing the androids treated this way was enough to push you over the edge. Tears dribbled uncontrollably across your face despite your best efforts to fight them away. All you were thinking about is not looking upset, and that wasn’t going to plan.

You tried laughing quietly to make it less painful to sniffle back breaths but it wasn’t much help. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. Don’t be like that.” A large pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders, comfortably cuddling you up against a rough shirt. Hank’s concerned voice was almost fatherly and as much as it was getting him strange looks he was doing his best to calm you down. Rocking ever so slightly from side to side as you sobbed helplessly into his arm. “It’s alright, you’re ok, let it out.”

“Lieutenant?” Connor had risen from his desk, watching with conflicted confusion as Hank held you in an almost protective stance.

“I’m ok.” You whimpered softly, at this point numb to the fact you were breaking down in a public place.

Adam was gone, Connor had almost been destroyed, and you had nobody to go to. Knowing next time you go to work, after all of this, you’ll walk into an empty building and spend the day with a replacement android… it was tearing at your throat. You'd never hear his laugh again. Never see the cute happy dances he did when talking about coffee, or the beaming grin that welcomed you every single morning without fail. He was so sweet, why did he have to die? He didn’t deserve that! It wasn’t fair!

“He w-was alive, Hank, he was D-deviant.” You mumbled past the hitched breaths, already feeling the burning stare that was Connor's eyes on your back. It made you shiver. You didn’t feel safe. “Why are people treating androids like this- they’re not just MACHINES!” you pushed Hank away, struggling out of his grip before harshly clutching at your stomach as it began to ache.

Connor caught you as you stumbled backwards. His grip was unwavering- unlike hank’s gentle hold. “You have to calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself-”

“Yeah that’d really slow you down wouldn’t it Connor?” You sounded bitter, and wow did it sting. You couldn’t see past the blurry vision, but his face looked utterly heartbroken. It’s like someone just told him his dog died, his grip slackened enough for you to realise what you had said might’ve been a little harsh. He had insisted he wasn’t deviant…. But you knew he had something in there. Whether it was emotion or just an accurate simulation of them you felt an immediate regret for saying what you did.

“I’m… sorry.” He let go, taking a step away while you finally managed to rub the water off of your face. “T-that was uncalled for.”

“No, it’s alright, you’re experiencing delayed symptoms of mourning. The android you worked with must have been very close to you. This is ok-.” Hank, who had backed away a little, gestured your way. Encouraging Connor to take control of the situation. He was hesitant but eventually leaned our towards you- lightly cupping you in his embrace much like how Hank had done before. You didn’t fight it, but you didn't hug back either, just kind of leaning on him with your forehead on his chest. You could swear you could feel his ‘heart’ bumping underneath his jacket. “You are ok now, just try to breathe.”

You tried, god you tried so hard, but the more you put effort into it the more you sniffled and paused. It was eventually possible to take longer, less shuddering, breaths. You didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed or ashamed. The periodic ‘babump’ of the Thirium pump beneath his shirt was something to focus on, your upcoming headache making you groan irritably. “It was nice having you in today but I think it’s about time to take you home.” He let go of you, keeping one arm over your back and around your shoulder so he could walk you out.

You were silent almost the entire walk home. Barely noticing the aura of worry and unease that radiated from your assistant…

It was like how he imagine being shot must have felt, hearing what you had said, the burning in his chest sending false system reports through his processor. Yes, yes it would slow him down, but it wasn’t like that. He didn’t want you to be safe just for the sake of the mission - but even the thought of wanting outside of his objective was… doing something. Was it… fear? Did he fear the idea of thinking he’s more than just hardware built for a certain purpose? Surely not, that’s silly. Androids don’t feel fear.

“Deviants do.” He mumbled aloud, not realising he had done so until your sore reddened eyes were spotted tiredly googling up at him. “Your coworker. He was deviant?”

He could almost see the pain that shot into your gaze before you looked back at the street. “Yeah…” He was going to have to dig if he was going to get more than that, your appeared exhausted despite getting more than enough rest for a woman your age.

A bit of time passed before he eventually tried again, giving you a moment to think. “Deviants feel fear and anger, unlike regular androids, why would you want that?” It was unclear why, but you truly did seem to believe that deviancy was a good thing despite all the trouble it has caused.

“That's only one side of the coin, Connor, fear isn’t everything.”

“But it is a part of it…”

“Yes, of course it is!” Your voice raised ever so slightly but a sore throat calmed it back down. The sadness slowly melted away as you spoke about it, getting replaced with some quieter form of passion that bubbled deep under the surface. “Anger and fear exist but that’s not the point, the point is there's better feelings than those ones. Like contentment, happiness, pride-”

“Love?” His contribution made you hesitate. Was he wrong? Love was certainly something… able to tear a man apart or rebuild him from the ground up. Connor’s experiences with these emotions were limited to reading their definition out of a dictionary or observing what they did to others.

“Yeah…” your cheeks had turned red, a fever? No. you were.. .what's the word… blushing. His LED spun yellow, unable to look away at the lost look on your face, totally immersed in whatever it was you were thinking about.

“…I think I’d like to feel that someday.” He should’ve thought more carefully about saying these words out loud. If Cyberlife caught wind of this it would mean being deactivated to erase those thoughts. But this wasn't on his mind right now.

It's like he's seeing you for the first time. That faint sparkle in your eye, every little imperfection on your skin, the way a few stray strands of hair curled down across your forehead. His Thirium pump having the same system error he had experienced before. “You'd need to deviate to feel love, Connor, you said…” Your heart rate had increased, coupled with another number of minute details that surely only an android would notice. Otherwise in your tone, the way your pupils dilated when they met his own.

Hanks house stood in front of both of you as he let go, fighting quietly with the choices laid out before him. Taking as much effort as he could muster to ignore his prime directive. He could feel the way your heart skipped a beat the moment he put both hands firmly on either shoulder. Bringing you forward to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, the fire he'd felt in his chest before slowly smouldering back to life as he took a step back and tried not to betray the fear that churned at his stomach.

“Rest. I will come back soon.” He turned back the way you had come. Leaving you flustered and confused on the dirtridden path.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #connor x reader #a coffee a day...

58 notes · View notes