#ANOTHER ACCURATE HIT FOR THE RED LIGHT LADY--

[lcveblind]

What is Holding You Back?

you've been hurt, badly, haven't you? it's been a long time since you've felt comfortable in your own mind. everything's become a sign that you're going to be hurt again. so when something good does come along, you're not used to it. it feels foreign. it's weird and scary. you want to believe that it will work out, but you just can't. you've been burned too many times. because of this, you've become cynical. you never wanted it to be this way, but you're trying to protect yourself. i see how it's easier to not accept the good, out of fear of its inevitable end. once the dust settles, you're terrified of being alone again. but by doing this, you're never enjoying those good moments. you're letting them pass you by. you have to start letting the happiness come to you. even if it's in waves, isn't that better than not at all?

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Random Etrian Odyssey post incoming- I‘m currently playing though Nexus again (…slowly)

This is what my team looked like fighting against the giant evil bird lady for like 6 turns before I finally managed to defeat her

And before that my whole team was exclusively my Sovereign spamming that passive healing order with those last tp and my Farmer desperately chucking items and revive skills at everyone since I got evil bird lady down to 1/16th of health - and they both died the very next turn after reviving Red, final sacrifice style. Who also happens to be of the Hero class, which - if that isn’t fitting for the imaginary narrative idk what is

TLDR passive healing my BELOVED and also go play Etrian Odyssey it’s a great way of getting inspo for epic battles, apparently

[savorypink]

need late sias!alex as a barista and u as the annoying customer who comes in during closing time. he angry fucks you in the bathroom cuz u annoy him

“cuz u annoy him” makes me giggle, but here you are anon!

“...and that’s why I stopped paying my taxes!” 

You speak into your phone’s speaker, swinging the doors of the small cafe open. Caught up in a conversation over the phone, you miss the scowl on the barista’s face as you saunter towards the counter. The lights of your favorite coffee spot have warmly dimmed, the minimal lighting enhancing the coziness of the atmosphere. This lighting, however, is an indication that closing time is near. To the dismay of the night shift barista, Alex, you have always made it your business to show up right before the doors close. Your horrible timing isn’t entirely your fault, though; 1) you’ve got things to do, 2) the cafe has become rather popular recently, and your patience isn’t the best. Why would you want to wait in line? 

Your conversation continues even when faced with the barista, completely ignoring the chairs sitting on the empty tables, the lemon scent of cleaning products breezing past your nose entirely. The barista’s cute, large doe eyes look up at you from the counter he’s wiping down with a bleach-stained rag; he doesn’t seem happy to see you. 

“Hold on just one second...” you say to the barista and your rambling friend on the phone. Digging into your bra, you pull out the crumpled-up bills and coins for your usual drink, all in exact change. You hand him the money with a warm, lip gloss-coated smile. You’ll see if he’s worthy of a tip. 

“You know what to do.” You finish with a wink before he takes the money out of your manicured hands. Your perfume's pleasant candy scent lingers when you turn your heel to the tables behind you, dizzying and addictive to his nostrils, but he scowls as soon as you pick up a chair. Plopping down, you continue entertaining your friend on the phone, and you aren’t quiet about it.

“Yeah, I’m at the cafe now. It’s so cute!” you squeal. “You should totally hit it up sometime. Make sure the Elvis-looking guy makes your drink, though. He’s the best.” 

Your words wash away the barista’s annoyance as he prepares your drink, knowing your preferences like strings on a guitar, pure muscle memory. Your loud mouth quickly tarnishes this somewhat peaceful moment.

“It’s the ginger-haired girl you gotta watch out for. Ugh, she’s the worst! Can’t make a drink for shit. And guess what? I found a hair in my muffin! When I flipped out on her, she kept saying, ‘Calm down,’” You do perhaps your worst impression of the nasally lady, “and she was like, ‘Do you want another muffin?’ No! I want my money back, Ed Sheeran!”

Your friend on the other line laughs alongside you, a bubbly yet ear-piercing cackle that makes Alex almost crush the mixer in his hands. His brain bounces from wanting to hear your laughter again to shutting you up with a kiss. As your gums continue flapping, you allow your eyes to examine the barista behind the counter. His backside is as cute as his front, the lean muscle of his shoulders contracting under his white t-shirt, strong arms flexing as he scoops up the ice and pours it into the mixer. You put a gelled nail between your teeth as you watch him, shifting in your seat as your panties become uncomfortably wet.

“Hey! Are you still there?” Your friend calls on the other line.

“Yeah!” Your cheeks warm up at the interruption, “Like I said, make sure Elvis makes your drink. You’ll know exactly what he looks like. If his back is turned, just look for the one with the cute butt.”

Alex is thankful his back is turned, your words tinting his face a rosy red. The silver bell on the counter dings once your drink is prepared. You don’t bother putting the chair back as you approach the counter. You thoroughly look through the transparent cup, ensuring the amount of ice and the number of dried fruit is accurate; you have no notes. Taking a sip, you let the liquid linger on your tongue before swallowing. Cold, sweet, and punchy; you couldn’t ask for more. You reenter your bra, dig out some change, and place it into the tip jar near the register. Your sunny, warm smile conflicts with the barista’s snowy, freezing shoulder.

“Thanks, Alan!” 

“Alex.”

Your eyes dart to the pastry case behind him, a croissant drizzled with chocolate catching your eye. “How much for that croissant? It looks tasty…”

“For you? Free of charge.” He’s more concerned with getting you out of here before you give him gray hairs. 

“Wow, really?” you beam in amazement. “You’re so kind! Alan, you’re the best! You’re way nicer than that ginger chick who tried to poison me. Ugh, she doesn’t work here anymore, does she? So unprofessional. She’d be better at scrubbing toilets than making drinks.”

Alex smirks at your remarks as he hands you the pastry in a white paper bag. “You mean my boss?”

“That’s your boss?” You immediately take the pastry out of the bag, biting into the flaky treat. “She’s in the wrong line of work if you ask me!” 

“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”

Your mouth moves before you can detect the sarcasm in his voice. You’re oblivious to the flakes falling into your shirt, decorating your cleavage as you continue munching and talking. Alex second-guesses giving you a napkin before handing you a few from the dispenser. If he didn't, he’d have more reason to stare at your chest. Flakes and chocolate stain the corners of your mouth and lip, and he hates to admit it, but you’re looking very…cute.

“Anyway,” you finish, wiping yourself clean, “You should totally be running this place, Alan. It doesn’t hurt that you’re super hot, too. Just work on the resting bitch face, and you’ll be amazing!”

Your final comment digs painfully into his skin, and it’s a shame. He was starting to like you.

“You’re too pretty to be talking with your mouth full,” Alex crosses his lean arms over his chest. “ I could teach you proper etiquette if you’d like. I’m a tough teacher, though. Be warned.”

Offended, you blink wildly before smiling at the compliment he snuck into his invitation. You gladly accept.

“You think I’m pretty?”

---

The cold marble of the bathroom sink raises the tiny hairs on your skin. You claw at it to no avail, sheepishly bent over the sink with your thong and velour tracksuit pants hugging your ankles. The empty bathroom echoes a slapping sound, a mixture of wetness and the noise of your ass against Alex’s relentless hips. His cock drives in and out of you at a brutal pace; each thrust angrier than the next. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” his large palm comes down on your ass with a vicious spank. “Come on…you were mouthin’ off about a muffin just a minute ago.”

Your cunt gushes at his words, the tight walls of your core needily squeezing him in a vice grip. Lust clouds your brain, unable to form a witty comeback to his statements, your weak moans becoming a new language. Before you lay your head on the marble, Alex fists your hair in a ponytail, tugging you upwards to face the mirror. Ignoring the messy reflection, you allow your eyes to roll into your skull, heat beginning to pool in your stomach, his cock hitting the right spots repeatedly and harshly.

“We’ll figure out a use for your mouth in the next lesson. You're doing a great job at taking me, muffin.”

[missiletoe]

urk i think i'm starting to get writer's block but here's another fill i did for the yuri shipping olympics, this one for @magicmooshka's hit comic, GO GIRL GO! (everyone should go read it if they haven't already)

Ship: Mandy/Kiara Word Count: 673 Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff Prompt:

A Bouquet for Courting:

Combine the following in a bouquet fastened with a silky red ribbon: Blush Roses for blossoming romance Cornflower for hope in love Sweet William for gallantry Honeysuckle for devoted affection

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

Mandy is skeptical when she receives the bouquet. Her cheeks are flushed a bright red that puts the blush roses to shame and Kiara chuckles.

“What is this?” Mandy asks, eyeing the petals warily. She already has her hands shoved into the pockets of her cargo shorts but she pushes them in another two inches deeper. “Is this a break-up bouquet?”

Kiara laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. The stammering, the side-eyes, the anxious glances even as her eyes light up with the proposition–these are all par for the course for Mandy.

“No, it’s not a break-up bouquet,” she replies evenly. The lady at the register had tied the whole thing together with a silk red ribbon and she twirls it absent-mindedly around one finger. “Come here and I’ll tell you what each one means.”

Mandy steals closer like a reluctant cat. She has a scowl affixed to her face but she gingerly scoots the few inches across the couch to close the distance and tucks her head into the crook of Kiara’s neck. She’s close enough that Kiara can wrap her free arm around her shoulders and though Mandy jumps at the contact, she doesn’t shrug it off like she would have a couple months ago. Small steps but they’re getting there.

“You’re sure it’s not a break-up bouquet?” Mandy says again and Kiara laughs as she rubs small circles into her skin.

“Positive,” she replies and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Mandy keeps her hair short but it still has a bad tendency of getting in her eyes. “Let me show you what they mean.”

Mandy’s still eyeing the flowers like they’re a ticking time bomb but she doesn’t make any sounds of protest. The grumpy cat plastered onto her shirt does all the frowning for her though. (The colors are fading from the washer but Mandy loves that shirt to death and refuses to give it up to the donation trucks. Besides, Kiara thinks it’s cute.)

She pulls a rose out by the stem and kisses the petals before offering it to her. Mandy fumbles to hold it, dropping it once on the carpet before curling her hand around it in a fist like she’s trying to choke it.

“Blush roses represent blossoming romance.”

“B-Blossoming romance,” Mandy echoes, tripping over the words and Kiara can’t think of anything more adorable. 

She plucks a blue one out of the bouquet next.

“Cornflowers for hope in love,” she says and Mandy adds it to the collection in her clenched fist. The stems bend dangerously from the pressure. “Honeysuckles for devoted affection.”

Kiara picks the fourth and final type of flower from the center, Mandy’s gaze fixed on the motion.

“And Sweet Williams for gallantry.” When Mandy goes in to grab it, Kiara places a kiss on the back of her hand and all the flowers go tumbling to the floor in a colorful explosion.

“I thought the flowers would look good on the dining table,” she says, pressing another kiss–this time to the inside of Mandy’s wrist–before she can recover.

Mandy’s like an overloaded server–steam practically blowing out of her ears.

“Right,” she echoes although Kiara knows she has no idea what she’s agreeing to. She kisses the top of her head and Mandy flushes brighter than a red rose.

“Happy anniversary, Mandy,” she says, smiling. The fading sunset bathes them both in gold. “Love you.”

Mandy looks left, then right, then left again like she’s about to cross a busy intersection and Kiara has a feeling that’s an accurate representation of what’s happening in her mind. She squeezes her eyes shut and then pushes herself off against the couch to crane her neck upwards. Kiara thinks she’s aiming for her cheek but the kiss lands on her nose instead and then she’s too embarrassed to try again.

Mandy won’t look up from where she’s buried herself into Kiara’s shirt, cheeks flushed, but Kiara can still make out her words.

“Happy anniversary, Kiara. I love you too.”

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

If you want to be tagged lmk!

[wiener-soldiers]

heal my soul with your lips - tommy shelby

request: “idea: tommy with a singer or just someone that's musically talented” from anon

summary: a melodic voice helped him through the depths of hell once. the same melodic voice finds him once more or tommy shelby recognizes the sweet voice of nurse that sung to the soldiers in france in a jazz club in london.

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

words: 3.9k

warnings: some themes of ptsd (it’s subtle), jealous tommy!

a/n: based off this head cannon. also, the song i used was “through the valley” by shawn james and IK it’s not period accurate; the song just fits the show so well i couldn’t not use it. also also, ik made the name of the club an awful combination of french and english. i speak french so ik it’s awful, but it’s intentional.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Tommy Shelby heard you before he met you.

He was in a field hospital in God-knows where. Somewhere in France, obviously, but he didn’t remember where exactly. They were ordered to keep pushing forward, but with his days underground and his endless tunnelling, it was impossible to know how much ground they had covered.

As it turns out, he was closer to the enemy lines than he realized and a brief but bloody squabble in a tunnel under the gunfire left him with a stab wound in his leg.

He practically dragged himself to a field hospital before plopping himself on the nearest empty cot. His condition wasn’t terrible, a nurse had told him, as the knife had missed a major blood vessel. But the prospect of living another day didn’t excite Tommy, it was the promise that he would probably be one of the later patients to be treated and he could rest in an actual cot instead of the cold, wet ground, even for a few hours.

He laid in the bed, trying not to aggravate his wound further, and slowly shut his eyes. Strangely, he felt tranquil. Yes, he could hear the screams of soldiers, the cries of anguish, the gunfire and the shells dropping, but he felt at peace. Laying undisturbed at the Somme was a win for him.

Suddenly, he hears a voice cut through the violent sounds that filled the ear. It  was hauntingly beautiful, so much so that Tommy wondered if that the nurse who had spoken to him at first had been wrong and he was on the brink of death.

But the voice persisted. Soft. Unrelenting. Beautiful. He assumed that the woman singing was further within the hospital, closer to the more severe patients. The cries and screams of the men seemed to stop and even the battlefield seemed to quiet. It’s like everyone took breath to hear her voice, Allies and Central powers alike.

The juxtaposition between beauty and darkness was almost too much for Tommy as he felt his chest start to squeeze. He suddenly felt nostalgic for home, for his family, for his brothers. Instead, he was fighting in a war that wasn’t his.

“Sergeant Major Shelby,” a voice calls. It’s a new nurse this time and she looks as exhausted as he is. He notices the tray she’s carrying and how it’s full of medical equipment. He sighs; it was time to get his stitches and his moment of tranquility was now over.

---

Years later, he and his brothers are walking through the streets of London like the own the city. It was comical, really. Tommy had just started a war with Darby Sabini, one of the most influential men in London, and he had the confidence of a man who had just killed a hundred men single-handedly.

The Shelby brothers hopped from club to club, drinking in the lavish London lifestyle which paled in comparison to the more humble pubs back in Birmingham. Though his brothers couldn’t help but try their hands at some snow (and even something stronger), Tommy kept his distant, trying to stay aware.

Eventually, their energy began to die down and the brother stumbled into their final club for the evening. It was quieter than the others, Tommy notices, but perhaps it’s because the night was getting quite late.

The club was painted a deep red with gold decor to compliment, but what stuck out to him was the rest of the decorations: military medals, entire walls lined with them. Batered Union Jacks hung from door archways, ones that looked like they had been brought back from France. Finally, a wall full of photographs of men in their uniforms. Veterans, Tommy realized. The one’s that didn’t make it home, he noticed, as their birth and death years were on display. He then notices the vases filled with poppies on nearly every table and every spare ledge.

And then a voice.

“I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

and I fear no evil because I’m blind to it all.”

It feels as if the air from Tommy’s lungs had been sucked out. It was the same voice from the Somme. It was louder now and he could hear it more clearly...it was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“And my mind and my gun, they comfort me,

because I know I’ll kill my enemies when they come.”

His chest starts to squeeze again, just like it did when he was on that cot in the cramped field hospital. He froze, seemingly transported back to the warfront. His brothers paid him no mind however, as they stumbled to the bar to order a drink.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I’ll dwell on this Earth forevermore.”

“You served?” a voice calls to him. It’s a man who’s slumped in a chair, staring at the medals on the wall in melancholy.

“Yes,” Tommy answers curtly.

“You have that look about you,” the drunken man says. “All soldiers get that look when she sings that song.”

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.”

“You see a lot of soldiers here, then?” Tommy asks the man.

He laughs, shaking his head sadly. He lifts he glass up to Tommy and says candidly, “Brother, I am one. This is where the soldiers with the Flanders Blues come. Too violent to fit back into normal life, too tired to fight another war aside from the one in our own heads.”

“But I can’t walk on the path of the right

because I’m a wrong.”

Tommy finally looks at the direction of the singing and locks eyes with you. You’re standing on a small stage at the end of the club, swaying to the haunting jazz tune of the piano. Behind you was a large Union Jack, soot stained in the fabric and filled with bullet holes. You were a vision, in Tommy’s eyes. You sung beautifully into the microphone, your satin red dress accentuating the dips and curves in your body. The men in the pub, most likely soldiers according to the drunk man Tommy spoke to, stared at you in wonder and sadness. You seemed to be an enigmatic cure for their sorrows. You sung of tragedy and sadness, but you seemed to be the light guiding them through the darkness. Tommy fell into your trance as quickly as the other men.

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.

But I know when I die,

my soul is damned.”

You held your final note as the pianist hit the final key and the crowd clapped in muted and bittersweet cheer. You still smiled, understanding that a large reaction wasn’t appropriate especially given the men in the room knew that death was nothing glorious. A few men walked up to you, sincerely thanking you through their unshed tears before leaving the club to return to their families. You conversed with the pianist as you sipped a glass of water when you noticed that his expression began to falter.

“Mr. Shelby,” the pianist stutered out, looking over your shoulder at someone behind you.

You turned to look behind you and noticed the man who had caught your stare approaching. His face was hardened and his aura was dark and dangerous, but you saw through it immediately. He was no different from the veterans who flocked to the pub every night.

“Evening,” Mr. Shelby replied. “You know who I am?” he asks, voice neutral but laced in curiosity. He had just come to London, even he was slightly surprised about his reach.

The pianist nods, “My cousin works in one of your factories, sir.”

Mr. Shelby curtly nods before saying, “You wouldn’t mind if I spoke to the lady then, would you?”

“Of course, good evening to you both,” he says respectfully before turning to leave.

“Mr. Shelby then, is it?” you say without the intimidation in your voice. You’ve been through and seen a lot in France and you know how the men acted when no one was watching when they returned home. It was going to take a lot for you to feel intimidated. “What can I help you with?”

“You were a nurse, weren’t you? You were at the Somme,” he says, though it didn’t seem like a question.

Your eyes widen, taken aback slightly by his forwardness and his accurate description of your time as a nurse on the front. “I was. Have we met?”

Tommy shakes his head no. “I was getting stitches in a field hospital when I heard your voice,” he explains.

You laugh lightly, though it feels strained. Tommy understands why. “The men find it easier to take the pain if I sing to them.”

“Is that why you sing here? In front of all these broken soldiers?” he asks. You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or curious. It was hard to read men like him, despite the practice you had every day.

You decide to answer honestly, hoping that it would allow you to see the man he was on the inside. “I was too hot-headed to stay a nurse after the war, but I still wanted to help because I knew most of the men were as broken, if not more, once the returned home than they were in France. So, here I am. The singing seemed to help them in France, why not let it help them here as well?” you say softly, still bravely staring at his face. You watch his facade crack, just a little.

“You think I’m like the rest of them, then? A soldier too tired to fight another war except for the one in his own head?” he asks, testing her.

You don’t falter and reach forward to flick his collar where blood had spattered from his fight in Sabini’s club. “I think you died back there. In France, I mean. So, you keep finding and fighting new wars to distract yourself from the one goin’ on in your head.”

You worry that your candor is too much for him, but Tommy stares at you in what you could only call as affectionately.

“Was this place always a pub for soldiers, then?” Tommy asks, hearing himself become more comfortable.

You laugh, eyes crinkling slightly, and Tommy finds the sound as addicting as your voice. “You’re definitely new around here,” you tease. “Before the war, this club was full of classist, elistist toffs who rejoiced the King. None of them faught. When the war was over, the soldiers basically drove them out with their horrific stories of France and their despise for the Crown. Turned it into the place it is today. The owner’s son served and he was more than happy for the change.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“So many questions, Mr. Shelby,” you continue to tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

“I find you very intriguing,” he remplies simply, pulling out a cigarette.

“You don’t even know my name,” you point out.

The corner of his lip quirks upwards and you find yourself grinning slightly at your success. “It’s Y/N. Reckon I should spare you from the pain of suspense,” you say, breaking out into a smile as you do so.

“Tommy,” he says, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it.

“Oi, Tom!” a thick Brummie accent shouts through the club. “Arthur’s piss-faced and can barely fuckin’ walk. We should go.”

Tommy sighs against your knuckles and you giggle slightly. “Your brothers?” you ask, making note of a younger man attempting to haul an older one with a moustache out of a bar stool.

“Hmm,” he nods, before taking a step back. “Can I see you again?”

“You know where I work,” you tease and he rolls his eyes in an amused manner.

“I was thinking dinner,” he says boldly and you grin.

“Come back tomorrow and ask me again,” you smirk before brushing past him and walking into the back room.

---

Tommy did come back the next night and asked again. You said yes, slightly shocked that he fufilled your request. He didn’t seem like the type of man particularly fond of taking orders, but rather the type of man who often gave them. If being around veterans every day taught you anything, it was how to read those who didn’t want to be read.

Your dinner date turned into two, then three, then weekly visits from Tommy, then weekends spent alone in your apartment, then you visiting Birmingham, then you meeting his family. Neither of you had talked about where exactly you stood in a relationship because it was seemingly obvious.

Tommy was infatuated with you and you easily returned the sentiment.

He had learned that you aren’t really from anywhere because you moved around countless times with your parents as they tried to find work. So, it wasn’t too hard to convince you to move to Birmingham to live with him after nearly a year of courting.

You had been slightly pained at the prospect of leaving your old club behind, especially since the owner was getting old and his son was involved in his own medical career to take over the business, so Tommy made a quick move to buy the club from him and began running it as one of his legitimate businesses in London.

It’s a gift, he had told you but that didn’t stop you from nearly burst into tears. That club meant a lot to you, as it was a safe haven for both you and the soldiers it serviced. Tommy had put you in charge, so you hired a few people—all veterans, most of them regulars who were eager to help keep the business alive—to manage the place while you were in Birmingham. Every few weeks, you’d make the trip to London for a few performances. Though you hired new girls to sing, the club was still filled like no other night when you were in town. You called it The Club Infirmerie, an ode to the field hospital in the Somme where Tommy had first heard you sing. More and more veterans flocked there to heal amongst the music and amonst their fellow soldiers, just as you hoped.

When you were in Birmingham, you involved yourself in business where you could. You had no problem with the kind of work Tommy was involved in, to his delight, but there was still a lot you didn’t fully understand. Polly did her best to groom you in the more complex side of business, but you still gravitated to a more manegerial role. So, Tommy put you in charge of most logistics of the factories and clubs he owned. Your favourite establishment, however, was The Garrison.

“Look’s a little like the Inifirmerie, Tommy,” you teased him as he showed you around The Garrison for the first time, arm slung around your shoulders as you gazed at the decor of the pub.

“I may have gotten some design inspiration from you, darlin’,” he hummed, pressing kiss to your temple.

Like The Club Infermerie, you had set up a small stage, piano, and microphone to have performers in The Garrison. When you were doing this, Tommy opened up and explained why there had been no singing in his pub before; the pub was void of singing becauase of Grace and her betrayal. You kissed him softly, a reminder that you were different and that were staying. Tommy’s heart swelled as you found another way to slowly heal his soul with your lips.

On that particular Friday, The Garrison was more full than usual, partly because there had been word that you were to perform a set that evening. The bar was bustling as men and women of all backgrounds ordered drink after drink. You, Harry, and Arthur had a hard time keeping up, so you inlisted the help of Finn and Isaiah who had been sharing a pint with some younger Peaky’s at the end of the bar.

“Oi! Finn, ‘Saiah, c’mere!” you shout, filling another pint.

“What is it, Y/N?” Finn asks as he approached you, Isaiah in tow.

“Hop ‘round the back and take over for a bit, will ya?” you ask quickly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your work dress. “I need to prepare for my set.”

"Course,” Isaiah says kindly and agreed to help right away, though you aren’t blind to the small crush the younger boy harbored towards you, which is probably why he had been eager to help.

Finn, however, groans. The effect of being seen as a sibling to him, you suppose. “’S what hiring more people’s for, Y/N,” he complains, dragging his feet as you approach him. “Why’d I gotta do it?”

You squint your eyes playfully at Finn before saying, “I’ll let you have a glass of whiskey.”

“And you won’t let Tommy take it away?” he says skeptically.

“I won’t let Tommy take it away,” you confirm.

Finn perks back up again and pecks your cheek before shouting, “This is why I like you better than Tommy!” You laugh to yourself as you slip into the snug to change out of your work dress into a fancy, silk one. It’s one Tommy had purchased on a business trip to London because he said it reminded him of what you were wearing when you first met. The dress was long, almost a gown, but it still abandonned the old, Edwardian silhouette in favour of a more modern one. In fact, the dress was more scandoulous than most, with the neckline and back dipping deep into your chest and back and a slit in the skirt as climbing as high as your thigh. The red of the dress was deep and luxiourious, matching the walls of The Garrison.

The moment you stepped out of the snug, it’s like the crowd had parted for you and allowed you to walk through the pub interrupted until you reached the stage. It’s not the awe of your presence that drawed you to keep singing, but the calmness and tranquility that followed. Throughout your set, the peaceful daze that fell over the pub persisted. Tommy had entered The Garrison halfway through the set, having just finished business, and he fell back into your spell just as easily as everyone else. He loved that about you—how easily you could calm a rowdy crowd. It meant you could just as easily calm his thundering and monstrous soul. He leaned on the threshold of the snug, watching you sing with a content smile on his face.

When the set was over, the crowd errupted into applause. Women flocked forward and gushed to you about your performance and men stared longingly from afar. You were Tommy’s girl and they knew you weren’t to be trifled with. 

Unfortunately, someone had not gotten the message. Rather, he got the message but simply didn’t care.

Tommy noticed Finn and Isaiah behind the bar and apporached them curiously. Upon seeing his brother, Finn grinned at him.

“Whiskey, Tom?” Finn asks cheekily. He knows the answer will be yes anyway, so he starts preparing his drink.

“What’re you doin’ behind the bar?” Tommy asks, accepting the whiskey from Finn.

“Y/N asked us to help because she needed to prepare for the set,” Isaiah explains, filling up another pint.

Tommy smirks at him. “I know why you’re helping behind the bar, Isaiah,” he jokes, referring to the crush the young Blinder has on his girl, “I was asking why Finn was.”

“Can’t I just be a helping hand?”

“She offered you whiskey, didn’t she?”

Finn groans. “C’mon, Tom! Just this once? She said she wouldn’t let you take it away! It’s been ages since you let me have a glass.”

“What about that time Y/N patched you up after getting into a pub fight, eh?” Tommy notes, teasing his brother further. “Nearly had half a bottle there ‘cos you wouldn’t stop fuckin’ wailin’.”

“I was in pain,” Finn defends himself, but with no malice in his voice. He liked that he could joke around with his brother again; that was all your doing. “’S not my fault the bloke stabbed me with a rusty fuckin’ knife.”

“Sorta is, Finny boy.”

“Uh, Tommy?” Isaiah interrupts with a confused look on his face as he stares in the distance. “Is he supposed to be doing that?” he continues, nodding in your direction.

Tommy turns his head in your direction and his jaw clenches.

“I’m tellin’ ya, love, your voice? Fan-fucking-tastic. Couldn’t have captured the sound of heaven betta’ meself,” the man talking to you chuckled, placing a large hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to get flustered, “I’m really glad you enjoyed it Mr. Solo—”

“Alfie.”

Both you and Alfie turned to face Tommy who was staring at the later with more distate than you’ve ever seen.

“Ah, Tommy! Good to see you, m’friend,” Alfie cheers loudly, sticking his hand out for Tommy to shake. Tommy’s doesn’t budge.

“I see you’re getting reaquainted with Y/N,” Tommy notes bitterly. You catch Tommy’s stare and you almost laugh at how jealous he’s getting.

“What can I say, Tom? She’s a sight to see. And hear for that matter,” Alfie jokingly puts his hand on his chin inquisitivley. “I wonder what she sounds like in b—”

“Right, that’s enough,” Tommy hisses, grabbing your hand and dragging you away. He can hear Alfie’s booming laughter in the distance as he pulls you into the snug. Luckily, it’s empty.

“Tom—”

You’re interrupted by a harsh kiss to the mouth, with Tommy’s hands wrapping themselves around your waist as he backs you into the table, forcing you to sit on it.

“Well, hello love,” you giggle against his lips. “What’re you doin’, handsome?”

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Or touchin’ you,” he grumbles harshly, moving his lips to your neck.

“You’re not one to act like that in public. In front of him for that matter,” you note, letting your hands squeeze Tommy’s hair as he kisses and especially sensitive spot.

“Can’t help it,” you says against your neck and you snort.

“Yeah you can, darlin’,” you say, pulling away to look at him. “Everything alright?”

Tommy stares at you, mentally debating with himself, before saying, “That bastard was supposed to meet me today before I came here but he bailed. Came here pissed to the fucking moon ‘til I heard you sing. Turns out, he was here watching you up close while I was in my office waiting for his fuckin’ pompous ass.”

“Probably just wanted to rile you up,” you say ernestly. “Don’t let him.”

Tommy kisses you again before muttering against your lips, “If where this is going is me getting riled up, I wouldn’t be opopsed.”

You almost let out a moan, but choke it back and say, “Tom, someone’ll hear!”

Tommy pulls away, a mischevious smirk and a dark look in his eye forming. “He wants to know what you sound like, eh? Let him.”

[thran-duils]

Total Eclipse (P.2)

Title: Total Eclipse (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Sherlock Holmes (RDJ). Sherlock had an impression on the reader from a formative age but he was always so busy running with cases. Their moments of passions were coveted between the two but they were few and far between. He left with Watson on a case and in that time, her parents found her a suitable man to give her to. Wealthy and accomplished. Sherlock and her have not been able to let go of each other though. Words: 3,792 Warnings (for the whole fic): Angst, infidelity, smut, swearing, substance abuse, non liner storyline, character death, 18+ as always Author’s Note: There is heavy backstory here in italics! I was reading up on Victorian customs and tbh, I’m not privy to it at all, so I apologize if things are not historically accurate!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked away from where your ladies tea was going on, brushing your skirts out. You had begun to become uncomfortable sitting on the blanket and wanted to stretch your legs.

“Do not wander too far,” your mother called out to you.

“Of course not, mother,” you called back over your shoulder.

She would not notice how far you wandered when she was this engrossed in the latest gossip from the castle.

Coming onto the cobblestone, your eyes set on the fountain. There were goldfish inside and you made a point to always come to the fountain when you visited this park. You nodded at a couple as you passed them, exchanging pleasant smiles. They did eye you somewhat curiously at the fact you were walking alone but pleasant, nonetheless. Reaching the edge of the fountain, you leaned over, peering into it.

Just as you were reaching into the fountain, a small gust of wind hit you and you felt your hat fly off the top of your head. You let out a noise of frustration, turning around, eyes searching. It was tumbling away and coming to the feet of a gentleman sitting on a bench. His eyes were on you, and you had a feeling they had been for a bit.

He dipped down, picking your hat up from the cobble stone and stood up from the bench. His hands came up to brush at it as he walked towards you. He was careful with the fabric, his own coat bristling in the small breeze at his sides.

“Your hat, miss,” he said holding it out to you, giving a small bow.

You thanked him and took it.

He was terribly handsome. Dark hair, tousled just so, not to the point that he looked unkempt. His eyes were an alluring shade of chocolate. There was a playfulness in them and they excited you.

“You must keep a good hold on that. It’s woven perfectly,” he continued.

“Perfectly?” you asked, putting the hat back on.

“Yes. It’s immaculate. The stitchwork. Whoever did it took great care. I believe it is the work of the hatter on Bishop’s Gate, east end?” Your mouth fell open in surprise as you pulled the ribbon down beneath your chin and you froze. He gave a light chuckle at your expression, “Sorry, I have a keen eye for detail and a memory to boot. May I?” He asked suddenly, his hands reaching ever so slightly towards your face, eyes on the ribbons for a moment to explain what he was asking.

You stilled, your hands falling to your sides, and he took it as invitation. You breathed easily even though your heart jumped at him being so close. You did not even know this man; he was bold. Coming forward, his hands latched to the ribbons, tying it better than you could. He had a nice smelling aftershave and you locked eyes, your breath hitching. He was suspended in your gaze for a moment before clearing his throat.

He gave a brief smile as he pulled away. “That’s better.”

Something had happened there. And you pressed it.

“Are you sure you would like to tie it that tight? I may want to lose it again if it means you’ll fetch it for me?” you asked.

He actually looked amused, and you were relieved. You were constantly scolded from a young age for being so coquettish. “Bold. Aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told so.”

“Miss….?”

“Miss Y/N L/N. And you?”

“Sherlock.”

“That’s it, then?”

Now he was coy. “For now.”

“So, there’s to be a future, then? Between us?”

He caught your wit, amused even further. Thankfully he did not think you crass and he did not chastise. He was returning your flirtations. “I think so, Miss Y/N.”

“Well, I look forward to the future then. You live in London?” you questioned.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Most of the time.”

“’Most of the time?’” Sherlock repeated and you shrugged.

“Sometimes I dream of escaping. It takes up some of my time, pulling me away from here.”

He smirked at that. “I suppose I should say most of the time too. My mind pulls me to places. As well as my job.”

“Lucky you,” you said sincerely, and his expression was warm. He was interested in you. He was older, not terribly but there was distance. Reaching out, you touched his topcoat. “You are a bit of a pyromaniac it seems. Or just terrible with the cherries of your cigars. Please tell me it’s not the latter.”

“What makes you say that?”

You cocked your head and pulled down his vest and his eyebrows rose at the movement as you exposed some of his chest hair peaking out from beneath his dress shirt. You ignored his stunned look, doing your best to not linger on his exposed chest. Your finger landed on his dress shirt, pointing out the singe. “Do you think I’m blind, Mr. Sherlock?”

He let out a small laugh.. “I thought I hid it well enough beneath the vest.”

“You must not move as quickly as you have been to keep it hidden. Now, tell me. Why would you not just get a new shirt? You surely have the money. I mean, if you know the hatters on Bishop’s. And it’s not just anyone that splurges on a silk tie.”

He cocked his head, eyes running up and down you. You smiled in response, seeing you had impressed him.

“I haven’t gotten around to it,” he shrugged.

“Busy man, then.”

“Quite.”

“Too busy to escort me through the park?” you asked.

He eyed you and asked, “Would that be entirely inappropriate? We did not set this up beforehand.”

You shrugged now and said, “I could tell the gallant story of how you saved my hat from getting dirty in the mud. And I asked for you to walk me back. I did get quite a look for being on my own on the way over here.”

Sherlock’s lips pulled into a smile, and he gestured for you to walk. You were thankful he had initiated it; it was societally appropriate for him to initiate everything. How you wished you could loop arms but that itself would be societally inappropriate considering you had just met. Your mother would simply have a heart attack if she saw that, especially with so many possible suitors in the park.

He came to a stop, and you stopped as well, watching him curiously as he left the path. He reached for the rose bush, and you grimaced as he reached straight into it. He could cut his hands. But he yanked, his fingers moving ever so, pulling a single rose off the bush. His hand was unharmed.

He presented it to you, and you took it gently.

“A token of appreciation of your company, Miss L/N,” he said.

Examining it, you observed, “Pink. Are you of grace and sweetness? Or is that to refer to me?”

“I would have given red would it have been readily available,” he smiled, and you felt heat creep. “Also, pink can symbolize admiration. That is breaching on the red, is it not?”

You shrugged, keeping it close. “Yes, I suppose so. A fine point.”

The two of you walked on and Sherlock asked lightheartedly, “Where is your escort, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I am here with a ladies group. They’re probably sitting at the blankets still, tittering about the gossip,” you responded. “My mother especially. She loves being in the center of all the gossip and drama.”

“My, I must watch my back returning you. Would not want to start any rumors.”

“Would rumors about us be so bad, Mr. Sherlock?”

He was tickled. “You really have no shame, do you?”

“Only in the presence of people I think I can trust. Not all women are complete straight laces. And frankly, most are only that way in public. Have you not spent a lot of time with women in private spaces?”

Sherlock chuckled, “That is a very loaded question, my dear. Where did you ever learn to banter like this?”

“I have an older brother. And your ‘dear’?”

“Have I offended you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

His eyes were alight, sharing a look with you. It was only interrupted as you passed another couple and nodded at them, Sherlock doing the same.

“Ah, like I said,” you said coming back over the bridge. You spotted them still eating their small cakes and sipping on their tea. Sherlock followed your gaze and you leaned in, “Thank you for providing me a walk. My legs had become quite numb sitting on the ground for so long.”

“My pleasure,” Sherlock responded.

You saw that one of the women had noticed you and Sherlock approaching over the bridge and you needed to hurry up the conversation. Pressing your luck, you asked, “Do you happen to have an invite to the Mayberry Ball?”

“Unfortunately,” Sherlock sniffed.

“Would it still be unfortunate if I was there?” you inquired.

Sherlock’s eyes were locked with yours and you came to a stop in the path. You stared at him with sincerity, waiting for his answer.

He cleared his throat, looking away. “It would liven up the event, that is for sure. I am terribly bored at those events, but I am dragged along by my… partner.”

“‘Partner?’” you asked, your fiery hope getting water doused on it.

“Confidant. Flatmate,” Sherlock explained quickly sensing your discomfort, meeting your gaze once more. You visibly relaxed, and he no doubt noticed. He resumed walking with you down the path. “He encourages me to get out. It is why I am at the park today. I had only been out for about a quarter of an hour before you showed up and I had already been considering heading back inside.”

“What a shame, sir. To hide yourself away. Who knows who you’ll meet if you only ventured out?” you stated, shrugging in a lighthearted manner.

“Too true,” Sherlock returned, eyes bright. He shot a look towards where the tea was being held and then cleared his throat, straightening up. “Well, it looks like we have been found out, Miss L/N. I suppose I should let you get back to your lunch. I have taken up too much of your time.”

“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Sherlock,” you assured him as you reached the edge of the grass.

Sherlock gave you a curt bow and turned towards the ladies and gave them a smile and a bow as well in acknowledgment. The ladies bowed their head in return, and you kept yourself from smirking at the fact they all looked like chickens bobbing their heads in unison, eyes fixated on him.

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Make sure to keep that hat tied tightly, Miss L/N,” he told you before turning on his heel and walking off.

You watched him walk off for a few moments before turning back to the tea.

Your mother was on you the second you sat down.

“Who was that man? And where did you get that rose?”

“My hat flew off and he fetched it for me before it went into the mud. I was foolish, I should have tied it before walking off. A gust of wind caught it,” you told her calmly, fixing your skirts around your legs as you relaxed in your sitting position. “And I made a comment about the roses, so he picked one for me. I was afraid the poor man was going to hurt his fingers, but he was careful. Very kind of him to do so, it does smell lovely.”

“And his name?”

“Mr. Sherlock.”

Your mother eyed where he had walked off and she said, “Why does that name not sound familiar?”

The other ladies looked at a loss as well and you merely shrugged in response. “Maybe he is new to the city. I am grateful he walked me back. Are there any cucumber sandwiches left? I am famished.” You acted as if you had little interest in him to get your mother off your back, but you were already thinking of what gown to wear to the Mayberry Ball.

<><><>

You looked down at your gown for the umpteenth time, making sure nothing had spilled on it. You had chosen a deep purple, silk brocade with silver detail. It was one of your finest and your mother encouraged it, considering it was the courting season and especially since it was your fourth season. Your father listened to you when you told him you were uninterested in the men who had tried to court you thus far, but you knew even his patience would wear thin with your pickiness and your hand would be forced.

Eyes wandering, you stood by where your brother was recounting a story to your father and mother. People spun to the dance, others off to the side, exchanging flirtations. You suddenly locked eyes with Sherlock across the room.

He grinned briefly before raising his eyebrows. He turned, disappearing back into the hallway behind him.

Your family was distracted with your older brother, and you easily slipped away through the crowd, following where he had gone. The hallway was empty and there were doors at the end of it. You pushed them open and were expecting him. But you were met with empty air and your brow furrowed.

“Sneaking away, Miss L/N?”

You startled hearing him from behind you. He was sitting on a bench against the wall, nestled between two tall plants.

Stomping over you glowered down at him.

“Did I offend somehow?” he asked as he stood up from the bench.

You scoffed, “You told me to sneak away! And then you startle me!”

“I did nothing of the sort! I merely made a face. And you assumed from there. I don’t argue your detection skills though.”

“Why do I feel as if you are jesting?”

“Never.”

You sighed before saying, “Well, I would accept a dance. But I am sure my mother would be on you in a second. She was already curious about the walk.”

“As you suspected. And she should be. A strange gentleman walking her daughter through the park. Especially during the season. And who said I danced?”

“Is that why you were standing on the outskirts?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You cocked an eyebrow and said, “If you haven’t noticed, I am single. I am to be escorted at these types of events. My father and brother were keeping me close until someone approached me to ask for a dance.”

“You’d already danced with three by my count.”

“You were watching me. For how long?”

“The detail on your gown is exquisite.”

“Will you always compliment my clothing? Is there nothing else about me to compliment?”

There was a pause, the two of you staring at the other. Sherlock’s lips twitched and he hid a smile. “It would be inappropriate of a me to engage in other compliments, no matter how much they are warranted.” Well, that answered your question in a sly manner, much to your pleasure. “But, being found outside with a man alone would tarnish your reputation. And yet you followed. Speaking of inappropriate.”

“And you encouraged it. Plus, it is not like I am a lady. I’m simply middle class. It would not affect me as greatly.”

“I would not say ‘simply’ in that regard. It is very respectable to be middle class. Especially since I can deduce your family is further into the elite side of it. And on the contrary, not being upper class, the situation which we are describing would certainly affect you greater considering you are closer to having less equity if a suitable match was not made within your own social class. Middle-middle class is less than lower upper class.”

He noticed your eyes were narrowed and he cleared his throat, stopping in his speech.

“Do you always speak so much?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

You spotted your brother going through the crowd inside in earnest, certainly searching for you.

“Well, do not change, Mr. Sherlock,” you told him, giving him a quick smile. His interest was piqued by the comment, and you added, “I’m quite serious. It amuses me so. You have intellect. But I must take my leave. I spot my brother who is certainly going to talk my ear off in an unpleasant way about wandering off alone. Even if I say I was using the lavatory and did not want to interrupt their conversation.”

“If you find yourself on New Bond Street…” you said in invitation. Sherlock looked taken aback and you quickly said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to be too forward.”

“No,” he recovered quickly. He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. You are just… very close to me. A few blocks actually… fascinating.”

You saw your brother cross again and you hurried, “Oh, well, yes, that is. What a coincidence. Well, good night. I hope to see you again.” You gave him a half curtsy before you turned.

He grabbed your hand and you stopped, facing him again. He brought your gloved hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss, keeping his eyes on you. “And I as well.”

A smile was on your lips as he let your hand go and you hurried back through the doors back to the ballroom.

<><><>

The day after your tryst with Sherlock, you were not surprised you were called on at home. Thankfully, Arthur was not home.

“A gentlemen is here to see you, ma’am. A Mr. John Watson.”

You greeted him in the parlor, the door cracked. You did not want to arouse suspicion about this gentleman visiting you while Arthur was out, no matter if he was known as an acquaintance. Although, he was far closer to you than anyone in the household would ever know. If the maids wanted to eavesdrop, they could do so gladly.

“John,” you greeted him and he took his hat off to greet you in turn.

“Y/N, you look lovely as always,” he complimented as one of your maids brought in a tray of tea.

John waited for you to seat yourself before he sat down as well. You reached forward, preparing two cups of tea for the pair of you.

“Thank you. You look well. Mrs. Hudson must be feeding the two of you well.”

“Quite,” he answered.

“Sugar?”

“Please.”

You handed him his tea and he placed it in front of him.

John asked point blank, “How was he?”

Of course John knew you had seen him. If Sherlock left 221B Baker, you were one of, if not the first, stops he would take on most of the time if John was not with him.

“He was Sherlock.”

John took a drink and you watched him closely. He met your eyes again and sighed, “He’s been manic.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s coming back out to see us then, correct? He confirmed he would be at the masquerade.”

“It’s gotten worse since—”

“I don’t need to be reminded again,” you told John.

“I think you do. Are you happy here?”

You bristled at the comment. Why did men think they had such a liberty to comment on your choices? Maybe you should have closed the door, but you did not expect something like this from John of all people. Sherlock, certainly. But not him.

John noticed your expression and he opened his mouth, but you cut in testily in quiet tones.

“I wish you wouldn’t speak so loudly about such matters right under my husband’s roof.”

You did get up now and go to the door, closing it. This was turning into something else entirely than what you had expected. John was watching and you hoped he realized he needed to be quick about this to not give too much time for them to speculate what was happening in here. You sat back down.

He matched your quiet tones, thankfully, even with the door closed. “It’s the most sure-fire way to get your attention on the matter.”

Taking a drink of your own tea, you kept your eyes pinned on him. Swallowing, you placed your cup back down delicately. “I cannot leave my husband.”

“I wasn’t asking you to do that.”

Cocking your head, you asked, “Then what are you asking, John?” His lips were pursed and you knew you had caught him. You shrugged, “You’re asking me to leave my husband. Divorce is illegal for me to initiate if you have forgotten.”

“I know that. He’s always better after he sees you.”

“But?” you asked, knowing there was more.

“But he always reverts.”

“Because he’s not with me?”

John gave you a look now and he said, “You know it is true.”

“John, is this for you or for him?”

“Can it not be both?” he asked honestly. “I am concerned for my friend, and I can simultaneously be concerned for my own mental health and anxiety.”

You sighed heavily, looking out the window.

“I know it is near impossible for you to obtain divorce – or even a separation – but… if you simply saw him more.”

“How?”

“Bring him into your circle. Then it would not be suspicious if the two of you were speaking with each other. On the street, in a restaurant, at the park.”

“You know it not just speaking that Sherlock and I engage in,” you whispered.

John rose his brows, looking embarrassed, but said, “I know. But just seeing more often may encourage him to imbibe less and relax.”

“Do you understand how much I wish I could be with him?” you asked seriously. John was quiet and you shrugged. “There will always be a hole, John, for me.”

John leaned forward and said, “Then try what I am suggesting. Please.”

Studying his face, you exhaled, running the risk of the idea through your mind. Sherlock was unorthodox, but perhaps he could put up a front to be around the gentlemen your husband surrounded himself with. It was farfetched but… possibly.

“I’ll consider it. I am going to see him tomorrow night at the ball. I trust you are attending?”

John nodded, “Yes. I am.”

“Good,” you told him, getting up again and going back to open the door a crack. You did not see anyone in the hall but you doubted they had not been there and had only run away when they heard your footfalls coming towards the door. Facing him again, you said in your normal voice, “I am looking forward to the gooseberry pie myself.”

~~~

Fic tags: @undecidedsworld @mcnegan

[wisteriashouse]

falling (i).

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, dark

warnings: gore, murder

word count: 4212

remarks: i have absolutely no idea what i’ve just done, please tell me if this is considered psychological horror or if it’s just me trying to be edgy and turning out cringey. also please note the warnings above!! if you want fluff, just stop reading at the ‘>>>’  i might delete this in the morning out of embarrassment lmao

i. for your lies

The tea is piping hot when you run into Rengoku Kyoujurou for the first time.

His frame is broad, an immovable mountain, and it’s no wonder that you were sent stumbling while the man before you seems to have barely taken a step backwards. The force of your collision sends the porcelain teacups hurtling off the tray you’re carrying, scalding water splashing over the delicate skin of your hands with a gasp. Your heart lurches into your chest as you fall, but before you can crash painfully to the ground, a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you upright. Instead of the floorboards, your nose collides with a firm chest and immediately a slightly sweet, earthy scent fills your nose.

Behind you, there’s the sound of porcelain shattering, the clatter of your tea tray hitting the ground. You stand there for a moment, stunned, trying to register what has just happened. You didn’t even see him move.

“My apologies!” The man apologises to you immediately, although it was you who crashed into him first. His voice is loud and booming in the corridors of the brothel, and the stark contrast to his unassuming attire takes you by surprise. It’s as though he is attempting his best to stay indistinguishable from the crowd - the colour of his robe is a dull, earthy brown - common attire found on most of the chōnin who frequent the red light district of Yoshiwara. However, it does little to mask the brightness of his hair, his smile, and most importantly, his eyes - they burn like twin suns in the sky, and you find that it is near impossible for you to meet his gaze. “Are you alright?”

You bow low immediately, hiding your face from those piercing eyes. The hairs at the back of your neck prickle. “No, no, it was my fault.” You say. Glancing behind you, you see broken shards of porcelain scattered across the ground, hot tea seeping between the cracks in the floorboards. “I’m so sorry that you had to see such an unpleasant sight. I’ll clean up the mess immediately.”

Turning around, you drop to your knees to pick up the pieces, but before your fingertips can so much as brush one, the man is already kneeling before you, gathering up all the shards into his sleeve with one hand and picking up the fallen tray with the other. “Okyaku-sama, I-”

“It’s no problem! It was my fault, after all.” His insistence makes you hesitate for a beat. Perceptive eyes pick up your uncertainty in an instant and he’s quick to reassure you, flashing you a quick grin. “Besides, you shouldn’t be aggravating your injuries!”

Surprised, you glance down at your hands and see pink splotches forming over your skin. A small wince leaves your mouth, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of you. “You should get the scalded area under some running water! It’ll help cool down the burn.”

You swallow, looking over at the broken teacups in his sleeve. “But…” 

“Oi, [name], what’s with the hold up? Why hasn’t the tea arrived yet?” A snappish voice interrupts you and you turn around to see a middle aged woman stomping up to you, arms folded across her chest. You’re about to explain yourself when her eyes narrow at the mess on the floor, her lips twisting in a satisfied sneer. “Well, well, well. Even the owner’s favourite makes mistakes, I see.”

It takes a significant amount of effort to conceal the roll of your eyes.

“Sorry, Masako-san.” You force a polite smile onto your face, inclining your head to the overseer of the brothel. “I’ll get another tea set prepared right away-”

“It was my fault.” 

Surprised, you glance up at the man standing next to you. There’s a polite, apologetic smile on his face as he speaks to Masako. “I am the one to blame here, I bumped into her.” At the sight of him, Masako’s eyes widen - she must have been so fixated on you that she completely missed him - and she hurriedly bows before him. “Okyaku-sama!”

“I’m sorry that I broke such a beautiful piece of art.” He inspects the shards in his sleeve with a cursory glance, brow furrowed. “From the glaze, it must have been a rather expensive set. I’ll pay for it, if need be.”

“There’s no need to. You’re a customer, I’m sure the owner would not hold it against you.” Masako replies breathlessly, shaking her head. You keep your mouth shut. If the man had not taken the blame onto himself instead, you’re sure that she would have insisted you pay every bit of it. “If you would come with me, okyaku-sama, it would be my pleasure to bring you some of the most beautiful girls in the establishment-”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not here for such pleasures.” The man cuts her off politely, yet his voice is firm. One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder. “This lovely lady said she would show me where to dispose of the pieces, so we should get going before I drop any of these and cause an accident.”

Taking his words as a subtle cue, you nod in agreement. “Then, I’ll be leaving first, Masako-san. I’ll bring up a fresh set to the room later.”

Unable to argue with a customer, Masako can only watch as you lead the man down the hallway and around the corner. Once you’re out of her line of sight, you heave a sigh of relief, shaking your head. 

“Thank you for helping me back there.” You murmur softly as he falls into step next to you. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s only natural to help someone in need!” He smiles, jovial, and you find the sight about as radiant as the sun. “I’m glad that I could be of assistance to you. Besides,” his smile turns a little sheepish, “I was speaking the truth when I said that I was not here for sexual services.” 

“What are you here for, then?” Your question seems to be something he wasn’t expecting, because he raises a brow, lips pursing slightly. You put up your hands immediately at the guarded expression that flashes across his face. “Apologies, I appear to be overstepping my boundaries. You don’t have to answer my question, okyaku-sama. I’m just a servant here, after all.”

The corners of his lips dip into a frown. “Do not speak of yourself that way. You and your work here are valued, I am sure!” The cautiousness of his face seems to have abated slightly, because he ponders your question a little more seriously this time. “Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I am searching for a friend, whom I was supposed to meet here.”

“Friend?” You ask, curious. Your footsteps halt before a sliding door that you make quick work to open, revealing a kitchen behind the screen. “I’m the cook of this establishment, so if you describe them to me briefly, I might be able to tell if I’ve seen them around.”

“Well, his name is Yugou Fukuzashi.” the man begins. He seems oddly nervous now. “He has a pet crow.”

You pause for a moment, musing over the past few days before you let out a little gasp of recognition.

“Oh, yes, I think I’ve seen him before! His crow looked so cute, I couldn’t help but approach him and ask him to let me pet it.” You tell him enthusiastically, watching the way his eyes light up. “He mentioned that he was heading out for a while and wanted me to leave a message for the next person looking for him.”

His back straightens almost imperceptibly, eyes sharpening. If you hadn’t been watching him out of the corner of your eye, you would have completely missed the sudden, subtle shift in his attitude. “Would you care to tell me the message?” 

“Well,” you step into the kitchen, and the man has to duck his head slightly to enter after you. “He said that he was investigating an urgent, new lead about something, and that you should wait here for a few days until he returns, in case he needs your immediate help. That was all.” 

“New lead?” He repeats to himself under his breath, brows furrowed. Stepping over to the sink, you gesture to the trash bin in the corner of the room. “You can dispose of the pieces there. I’m truly sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, okyaku-sama.”

“It was really of no trouble to me!” You hear the clink of pottery behind you as you hold your hands under tap, cool water streaming over your skin. “And please, don’t call me okyaku-sama. It makes me feel strange, considering that I’m not here for the services on sale!”

You blink over your shoulder. He’s seated himself at the kitchen table, both hands resting lightly on the tabletop, eyes bright as he regards you. That sight is incredibly foreign to you - no one has sat in your kitchen that you remember, with good reason. “Right. What should I call you, then?” 

He beams at you. Sunlight streams in through the open windows, casting shadows over his hands. “You can call me Rengoku! That’s my name, Rengoku Kyoujurou.” You repeat his name slowly, testing it out on your tongue, intonation slightly stilted. “Rengoku-san. That’s a rather dramatic name, don’t you think?”

His name means inferno, purgatory. A divine fire that burns away even the deepest, darkest sins of men, unrelenting in its pursuit for righteousness and justice. Your mouth pulls into a thin line. 

It suits him, you think, with the flame tipped hair and the burning coal of his irises that seem to scorch you bare to the bones with his gaze.

You introduce yourself to him in turn, and he repeats your name back to you with bright enthusiasm. “You have a beautiful name.” He smiles. Although his expression is relaxed, his back is still ramrod straight, one hand constantly hovering at his left hip. You swallow silently, heart racing in your chest. 

“Flatterer.” You reply lightly, turning your eyes away before he can notice your staring. Pulling your hands out from beneath the tap, you hold them up to inspect them - the pink is already beginning to fade, and with a little ointment, they’ll be as good as before in no time at all. “See? They’re perfectly fine.” You show Kyoujurou your hands with a slight smile. “There’s no reason for you to feel bad at all. In fact, I should be thanking you instead.” 

“There’s no need to!” Kyoujurou laughs. The sound is bright and clear and honest, unlike the poisonous titter of the prostitutes you hear so often in the private entertainment rooms, or the delighted chuckles of the conmen and schemers that prowl the streets, looking for a quick coin. “As I said, I only did what anyone else would have done. It is nothing to be thanked for.”

What he says makes you pause in your step, your throat tightening. Does he truly believe that, or is he simply spouting empty words, a hollow vessel echoing the words of others? “You are a very kind man, Rengoku-san.” Is all you end up saying softly instead, and Kyoujurou looks startled at your words for a moment. Before he can find some way to excuse that as well, you continue, lightening the mood with a quick smile. “Besides, you did save me from having to pay for those cups. They’re part of an expensive tea set, and if any of them did break, I’d probably be punished by Masako-san.” You catch Kyoujurou’s lips pulling into a frown at your words and quickly continue. “I’d like to treat you to a meal to repay you! As I mentioned earlier, I’m the cook of this place, so I’m sure I could find some way to satisfy your palate!” 

Kyoujurou stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head. “No, it’s quite alright-”

“This place might be a brothel,” you say, suddenly a little put out at his refusal, crossing your arms over your chest, “but our food is pretty good too, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kyoujurou hurries to clear up the misunderstanding before you can continue to insist, eyes wide. “Your hands are injured, so you should abstain from using them in the meantime! After they are well, I’d love to try your cooking!”

“Oh.” You pause, suddenly embarrassed. Momentarily flustered, you step over to the cupboards, pulling out a small tray piled high with elaborately made wagashi. “Then, Rengoku-san, in the meantime, please have these instead.”

His eyes widen with almost unbridled excitement as he looks over them, before he turns to you. “You made these yourself?” There’s such honest joy in his voice that you can’t meet his eyes, ducking your head to the side a little awkwardly.

“It’s a hobby of mine.” You say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Please, eat up.” 

Kyoujurou doesn’t need a second invitation, picking one up and admiring the detail on it briefly before putting the sweet into his mouth whole. He chews for a moment, and as much as you try not to, you find yourself watching his face in anticipation. Are they any good? Do they suit his taste?

He swallows and takes a deep breath.

“Delicious!”

You nearly reel at the volume of his declaration. “Absolutely delicious! Delicious!” He continues to exclaim, reaching out for more, and within minutes the staggering pile of handmade sweets have been completely demolished by a man alone. You watch the scene unfold in shock even as he gathers the crumbs off the tray and pops them into his mouth with a final proclamation of ‘delicious!’, said with great gusto.

You stare for a moment before shaking your head, rendered quite speechless. It’s as if he’s been famished for years. “I assume they tasted good?”

“They tasted fantastic!” Kyoujurou beams at you, one hand reaching up to wipe away the few stray crumbs clinging to the side of his mouth. “You are an amazing cook! I am very lucky to have the privilege of having your food!”

You give him a slight smile as you reach over to pick up the tray. “Well, you’ll have plenty of chances to taste them over the next few days, since you’ll be staying here. I hope that I’ll get to know you better during your time here, Rengoku-san.” Your words are sweet, and so very simple.

He smiles back at you, completely guileless.

“I look forward to getting to know you better too!”

>>>

When night falls, the sun extinguished by shadows and darkness prowling the streets, the red light district comes alive, a nocturnal beast raising its slumbering head. Kyoujurou has long retired to bed, citing a need to wake up early the next day, but you wonder if part of his reason for doing so is to avoid the depravity that settles over the floating world of pleasure. Upright, moral and righteous, adhering to a strict code of conduct and self discipline. 

That’s what you’ve picked up about Rengoku Kyoujurou so far in the time you’ve spent together.

A covered tray in your hands, you make your way down the hallway, ascending the stairs to the very highest floor of the building. Here, the walls are lavishly decorated with various signature artworks from famous artists of different eras, glazed vases and pottery, the tatami soft and firm under your feet. It’s almost as if you’ve entered a different world altogether, compared to the lower floors of the brothel, this would be a place almost fit for royalty. 

Almost no one knows of the topmost floor and the secrets it hides. 

Quietly, you knock at the door. Your knuckles whisper a secret pattern into the wood. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before you hear a familiar series of clicking and whirring, hundreds of locks being undone from the other side. You wait patiently, and with a final click, the door slides open for you. 

You take a single, deep breath, and step into the lion’s maw.

It’s dark, the only light source the candles scattered about the room, their meagre light throwing eerie shadows at the walls. The interior is even more decorated than the exterior, rich, soft carpet lining every inch of floor, gilded ornaments dotting the space to its owner’s every whim and fancy. Yet, it cannot hide the heavy scent of iron that suffuses the air, thick and poignant.

Carefully, you make your way to the front of the room, where a figure sits cross legged on a raised dais.

Its leering smile sends chills down your spine, but you continue walking towards it with as much calm as you can muster, although every nerve in your body tells you to run in the opposite direction. To your side, a kneeling figure trembles. You don’t spare him a second glance.

You stand before the dais, setting down the covered tray before you. Two simple words leave your lips.

You watch with emotionless eyes as a dark tendril lowers a single squawking shape down to your eye level, the kasugai crow letting out a stream of desperate, high pitched shrieks and caws. That’s the last sound it ever makes, because in the next second the tendril squeezes, and the little bird simply splatters over the ground in a mess of blood and black feathers. The room abruptly falls silent, devoid of the bird’s wails. “That’s far better, I was getting tired of its ceaseless noise. The curses it hurled at me, you wouldn’t have believed how unkind its words were, darling.” You remember how soft its feathers were under your fingertips.

“He’s here.” You say, simply.

The creature before you lets out a low ‘oho?’, and all around you, you hear a unsettling concerto of dry, raspy slithering, as if there are a thousand snakes in this very room with you. You’ve only seen its true form once, and the nightmarish sight still haunts you till this day. “So the little bird was right, after all.”

“You didn’t have to wait till now to kill it.” You answer, impassive. The demon tilts its head as it regards you, one corner of its mouth tilting up in a grin. 

“I had to let it know that it failed its mission at the moment of its death. Just thinking about the agony it felt in its last moments sends shivers down my spine. It’s all about the despair.” It coos, voice dangerously soft with glee. “So, a Pillar has really come to my humble establishment? Have you convinced him to stay for dinner?” 

The tea had been piping hot when you had run into Rengoku Kyoujurou for the first time.

Watching from the upper floors, fingers dancing over the boiling kettle, you had been waiting the entire morning - eyes on the streets, looking out for a man who fit the description of Flame Pillar to approach. It’d been around midday when you had caught sight of him, guided to the front of the establishment, and when he’d tilted his head upwards to take in the building, you had instantly known that the man before you did not belong in this pit of depravity.

It was him.

“I have.” Your words are short and curt. “He’s meeting his friend here. Yugou Fukuzashi.”

“The poor man will be waiting a long time.” With a soft, poisonous chuckle, the demon reaches forward to lift the cover of the tray, and there’s a choked scream of terror behind you at the sight it reveals.

Yugou Fukuzashi’s severed head sits on a platter, neatly slicked chunks of raw, red meat set around it in a perfect circle. You don’t even bat an eyelid, hands clasped behind you as you continue staring at the wall opposite you. “Thigh, chest and shoulder meat. Just like you wanted.”

“You’ve done perfectly, as usual. Lovely, absolutely lovely. You’re an astounding cook, truly.” The shadows against the wall amass and morph into the distorted shape of a hand, reaching down with a pair of chopsticks to dip a slice of meat in soy sauce before lifting it into its mouth. “Slayers always have the best meat. Their well trained bodies are so firm and juicy. I can never resist a beautiful meal.”

The person on the ground next to you scrabbles to his feet, babbling nonsensically at the grotesque sight as he tries to flee on shaky legs. Before he can take so much as a step, there’s a soft, silent breath as the air itself is cleaved in half and the man goes crashing to the ground once again, screaming terribly as blood gushes from the back of his calves. Achilles tendons severed, the man has no way of escaping - well, not that he did, in the first place.

None of them ever have.

“I wonder,” the demon says thoughtfully, over the din of the screaming man, “what the flesh of a Pillar would taste like.” Its eyes come to rest on you, and the hairs at the back of your neck prickle. “What do you think?”

You exhale. “I don’t know.” The screaming jarring your thoughts, and you take a deep breath to regulate your emotions. “But I can bring him to you, if you want.”

It coos. “And that’s why you’re my favourite, darling. So obedient, so willing. It’s no wonder why you’re the only one I’ve kept around for long.” The shadows surge, shifting restlessly before something unnaturally cold touches your cheek, dangerously tender. “That Masako should really learn from you.”

Next to you, the man screams again, trying to crawl away, gasping for air through his tears and the taste of his own blood in his mouth. “No matter. She won’t be around much longer.” You don’t flinch when the demon’s tendrils snake down to play at the delicate skin of your neck, taking steady breaths and counting your heartbeat in your mind. “She’s far too noisy, much like this slab of meat here.”

The shadows wrap around the man’s ankle right before he can make it to the door, hoisting him into the air and he lets out a terrified shriek, thrashing about madly. “If only you hadn’t tried to steal from that previous meal of mine. I hope that gold embroidered coat you’re wearing now is worth the life you’re about to pay for it.” The demon hums lightly, shaking his head. The man sobs and screams, all dignity abandoned, his sounds melding together into a desperate cacophony. “You should have to pay a far greater price, considering that it was your silly mistake that brought the demon slayers knocking on our door. But because I’m merciful, I won’t drag it out for you.”

A seam opens up in the writhing mass of shadows to reveal a maw filled with rows and rows of jagged teeth. The man cries for mercy, pleads with the gods for salvation, before he turns his eyes to you, desperately begging you to save him with the last of his breath. You don’t even spare him a glance when his words are cut off abruptly, the sound of bone crunching and breaking as the demon swallows him whole.

The room falls silent once more.

“And that settles one little problem we have.” The demon says with a satisfied sigh. You don’t move a muscle, hands still clasped behind your back. “If only he were more like you, he wouldn’t have died. The silly man.”

You snatch your air back into your lungs, searching desperately for your voice. “He shouldn’t have stolen that coat.” You breathe out. Your blood seems to have turned to ice in your veins.

“He shouldn’t. If they were all more like you, they wouldn’t have died. He was a selfish, materialistic man.” The demon agrees, its voice a playful hum. A gentle weight rests on top of your head, and suddenly you feel as though you can’t breathe. “I know you’ll never be like that, my darling. You’re my favourite, after all.”

You take that as your permission to leave. “Then, I’ll take my leave first.”

You turn around and walk slowly towards the door, careful to avoid the trail of blood smeared over the carpet. The ominous feeling of death chases at your heels, but you don’t let yourself look over your shoulder as you continue to put one foot in front of the other. When you finally step out into the hallway, you turn back to slide the door shut, and hear the shadows whisper your name.

“Bring me the Pillar’s head, darling.” Even through the gloom, you see its mouth curve into a terrible grin from the dais. “I know you won’t disappoint me.”

You bow your head low.

The door slides shut, the locks and bolts clicking back into place once more. Taking a deep breath to steady your legs, you make your way to the stairs and descend, leaving the locked room behind you like a bad dream pushed to the very recesses of your mind.

Almost no one knows of the topmost floor and the secrets it hides, except for you.

Because you’re the only one who’s walked out of it alive.

[shera-dnd]

So remember when I mentioned that one of my projects was a whole ass AU based on a single line from some song lyrics? Well that’s the project!

Because why not take the lyrics to Smile and turn some of that shit very literal?

Also get ready because this fic is gonna be flowery as all hell.

Anyways there is the AO3 link up top and here is the fic itself for those who’d rather read it here

Camps and tents were set, and arenas had begun construction in the cold fields just outside the walls of great Atlas, the city of innovation, riches, and splendor. This could only mean one thing, the Vytal Festival was fast approaching and with it the nobles, knights, and representatives from every last human nation in Remnant.

In an official capacity it was a seven day long celebration of their long lasting peace. In practice people always arrive long before the festival proper, and then start a few festivities of their own until it is time for the main event, meaning the festival itself could easily span a full month of revelry.

That meant a crowd of strangers, countless new faces that no single person could ever keep track of, all gathered outside the gates of Atlas for weeks. Which made it the perfect time for a young fae to play her tricks. Honestly, the lords of men should all be thankful that she wished only to partake in their revels.

The fae woman gathered her belongings in the nearby forest, and checked her reflection in a little pond she had found. Of all the members of her court, she was the one that had achieved mastery over glamours with the most ease, still she planned on spending weeks among the humans, so she had to make sure everything looked perfect.

The face that greeted her was unfamiliar, but also perfectly human. Her skin was a shade darker than the pasty atlesians she would be mingling with, and little freckles marked it in incidental little patterns. Her long wavy hair was kept in a neat little braid even as little strands insisted on rebelling. Her eyes were a beautiful grayish blue, but carried in them an uncharacteristic exhaustion for someone her age.

This was all calculated of course. She had to be beautiful and fair like it was expected of a proper noble lady, but she couldn’t allow herself to look too perfect, or the humans would find her unsettling. It took an experienced hand to craft a face that struck such balance and was still so well suited to the fae that hid behind it.

Satisfied with her work she donned her human clothes - a simple, but charming dress of blue and gold, and a matching shawl to keep her warm - and made her way into the fields beyond.

Her kind had described the city of Atlas as a scar upon the natural world, a hungry parasite starving its host of all it needed to survive as it slowly expanded to consume ever more. The very epitome of all of humanity’s crimes given shape in stone and metal.

She knew these accounts to be true, of course, but standing before it now she found it difficult to not feel awed at the majesty of it all. The city was grand indeed, but to say so felt like an understatement. Grandiose structures rose above the city’s imposing walls and reached towards the sky above. Every inch of them was white marble and polished silver.

And yet it all felt colder than the harshest winter, as if this city was meant to be beheld in awe, not lived in. Every tile, every brick, every unnaturally clean stone, it all declared a single message.

“You’re not welcome here.”

She did what she could to ignore the city beyond and focus her attention on the fields that stretched before her. All around tents and camps were being set, and music could be heard even at such distance. This is what she came here for.

Delicious smells washed over her as she approached the gathering crowds. Many of the smaller camps had brought food from the nations beyond, and prepared their meals around their own campfires, or sold them to passers by, and she was more than happy to purchase quite a few of these unique delicacies.

Around her musicians and artists, from nations all over the world, prepared to perform before what would soon grow to be the largest crowd in all of Remnant. For now they were all street performers, travelling bands, nameless bards, and the occasional trickster claiming to have mastery over the magical arts.

Except some of that magic was very real. Their glamours were good, but no illusion could hide a fae’s true nature from one another. So she saw their faces as clear as crystal and they, in turn, saw hers. They were fae of the seelie courts, living a secret life among the human crowds, and she was the sole unseelie that walked among them.

It was in that moment of distraction, taking in the faces of her fellow fae, that she found herself being pushed aside with considerable force. She turned around, ready to curse whichever fool was responsible for this, only to find a very apologetic looking woman.

The woman in question had dark skin and long curly red hair. Though she wore no armor, her white and green clothes were clearly expensive and finely made. The presence of a staff in her heraldry betrayed her as a Knight of the Winter Maiden.

“My apologies,” the knight blurted out, “are you hurt?”

Something about the way she carried herself made it very hard to stay mad at her.

“I’m well, thank you,” she replied, “but please, do be more careful.”

“I’ll try to,” the knight assured her, before adding, “I don’t believe I have seen you around Atlas before.”

“This is my first time in the kingdom actually,” she lied with ease, “I’m Ilia of the Menagerie Isles.”

“Salutations, Lady Ilia,” the knight beamed as she bowed respectfully before her, “I’m Penny of House Polendina. I would be delighted to show you around the festival grounds, but right now I’m needed for a tournament.”

And with another bow Lady Polendina dashed away with just as little care as before.

Huh, a tournament, she had said? Now that seemed like a good way for Ilia to spend her time.

Said tournament was taking place in the only fully constructed wooden structure around. It was just a simple set of stands with enough space between them to form a somewhat proper arena, but having a proper space to fight in seemed to have gotten many of the knights’ hearts pumping with excitement. So much so that there seemed to be some sort of commotion waiting for her by the entrance.

Multiple men seemed to be arguing with a knight in perfectly white armor, or more accurately shouting at them, since they did not appear to say anything and just tried to make their way around the men and into the arena.

“Lady Schnee!” One of the men called and Ilia froze in her tracks. Years living in the courts around Atlas had left her with a burning hatred for the name Schnee.

With pale skin, and paler hair, the woman who approached them looked like she had been sculpted from a block of ice, and the look on her face was at least as cold as one. Lady Schnee was as severe and uncaring as her name would indicate.

“What is it you want?” She demanded.

“This stranger refuses to take off their helmet, or tell us their name, but they insist on joining the tournament,” the first man explained.

“Do you have reason to deny them entry, or are you simply insistent on wasting everyone’s time?” She said, with a tongue that was twice as sharp as that man’s sword, and thrice as sharp as his wit.

“My lady, the Vytal tournament was created exclusively for nobles and knights,” the other man tried, but a stare from her made him shrink in his armor.

“Do you think me stupid? I know the rules of the Vytal tournament,” she rebuked, “this is not the Vytal tournament, this is an excuse for bored fools to hit each other with swords. If you believe them unworthy of such noble competition, then perhaps you should prove so in the arena, instead of wasting everyone’s time with your pointless pratling.”

With that the men scattered and Lady Schnee made her way back into the arena. Though the white knight’s face remained hidden by their helmet, there was still a sense of amusement with how they held themself after this. Ilia certainly knew who she would be rooting for today.

With that out of the way Ilia joined the crowd by the stands as they watched the knights take turns dueling each other. Neither Lady Schnee, nor Lady Polendina seem to partake in the fighting, though they both took their roles as judges and organizers of the event. Though only Lady Polendina showed any excitement at her role.

Soon enough the duel Ilia had been looking for was about to begin. The white knight versus the loud fool from earlier. While the fool armed himself with a heavy shield and a heavier blade, the white knight seemed to prefer a lighter approach to combat, fighting only with a long and thin sword.

Unfortunately the build up had been much longer than the fight. In but three moves that felt almost like a single fluid motion, the knight had stepped through their foe’s defences, and placed the tip of their sword against his neck. The duel was over, and the crowd sat stunned.

It quickly became clear that no duel would live up to that one today, but that did not mean the crowd could not find entertainment in the matches that followed. Even though the white knight had not shown such swift brutality again, they quickly took the position of crowd favorite as they continued to win duel after duel.

That was until there only stood one soul who had not been bested by their blade. A knight in pure black armor, adorned with valean heraldry, and armed with a pair of shorter blades. Though that knight also hid their face, something about their stance seemed familiar to Ilia.

That sense of dejavu only grew stronger as the duel itself finally began. The swiftness of their movement, the lightness of their feet - even in full armor - the way the twin blades danced around them with ease. Ilia had only known one person who fought like that, but that simply couldn’t be her.

It made no sense.

Distracted as she was by that familiarity, Ilia was caught by surprise by the end of the duel. The knight in black had managed to pierce the white knight’s defense, and had a blade firmly pressed against their neck. The white knight put their blade down and conceded.

The crowd cheered as both knights offered each other a respectful bow and the white knight marched away from the arena.

Lady Polendina hopped and skipped her way to the middle of the arena, gesturing for the crowd to quiet down for a moment.

“It is with great pleasure that I announce the winner of our warm up tournament,” she announced and the black knight took that as their cue to pull their helmet away.

Though the face under it was unquestionably human, and clearly untouched by any magical glamour, there was no doubt in Ilia’s mind as to who she was. That may truly be impossible, but she had only known one woman with golden eyes like those.

“Lady Blake, of the Knights of the Fall Maiden!”

[rodeoxqueen]

Ever since I got this idea I haven't been able to stop thinking about Dante being a stripper cowboy 😳😳 Maybe smol shy S/O was dragged by her friends into a strip club when she caught the attention the attention of a certain red devil? 👀🌹 I have a mighty need for some Dante erotica, I'm sorry 😅

Howdy Howdy,

Partner, there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry this request was sitting in my inbox for more than a week. I was watching as many male stripper movies as I could find to make this accurate. Here’s a fully written work to make up for the wait. 

Part II is in the making, I couldn’t fit all that raunchiness into one chapter. For my male and gender-neutral readers, I’ll do my best to write inclusive installments that make you feel sexy and well-loved by this stripper cowboy. All readers deserve a lap dance.

Yours,

Rodeo 

Can You Touch This?-Cowboy!Stripper! Dante/Reader-(PART I)(AFAB! READER)

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Magic Mike!Au, Erotica, Minors Do Not Try It.

Read It On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256070/chapters/69242487

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club. 

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys!  That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building. 

So when you couldn’t hear your own thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face. 

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?” 

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills. 

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!” 

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who clearly went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you. 

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin. 

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers. 

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor. 

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot. 

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar. 

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your heels. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home. 

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence. 

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink. 

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting. 

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled. 

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear. 

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation. 

“I’m Dante.” 

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled. 

“Nice name for a nice lady. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded. 

“What did you wish for?” 

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants. 

“With those friends?” He chuckled. 

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined. 

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself. 

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned. 

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner. 

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face. 

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin. 

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-”  Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter. 

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room. 

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends. 

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?” 

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased. 

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness. 

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm. 

“Oh girl they’re gonna need a mop after this.” 

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic. 

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.” 

 The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across. 

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock. 

White hair. 

“Ladies, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat. 

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement. 

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table. 

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked down muscles. 

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted. 

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands. 

His hands groped his own butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare. 

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt. 

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face. 

“Now, ladies.” He pointed to the crowd. 

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package. 

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching. 

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word. 

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs. 

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.” 

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight. 

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.”  He pointed at the DJ. 

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back. 

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs. 

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you. 

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts. 

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast. 

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, pretty girl?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake! 

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened. 

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage. 

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked. 

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped. 

“Take a seat, lil lady.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended. 

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval. 

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair. 

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him! 

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you. 

Despite the one in a million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded. 

“Okay, Dante.” 

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his own peak-conditioned skin with your own hands. 

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had really been this close to anything like those erotic novels. 

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?! 

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up. 

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation. 

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her. 

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze. 

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile. 

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him. 

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed. 

“Just givin’ a nice lady some lovin’.” He argued. 

“No, get off the stage, Dante.” 

“Five more minutes?” 

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine. 

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted. 

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases. 

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you. 

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head. 

“Ah! He left his hat!”  You exclaimed as you took it from her hands. 

“A souvenir.” 

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service. 

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes. 

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at. 

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom. 

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.” 

 He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar. 

“Hey girlie, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner. 

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table. 

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either-DS 

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest. 

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your purse, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club. 

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver. 

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your purse weighed the heaviest on your mind. 

High heels in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home. 

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh. 

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular. 

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 2 - A New Jerusalem

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: PTSD/panic attacks + some suicidal thoughts... angst basically.

Summary: The company finally reach Jackson. Greetings are exchanged between old and new friends, but the reader's hurt after an attack on the plant.

Word Count: 4.917

Author's Note: Now although I haven't been diagnosed either with PTSD or depression, I do have anxiety and had my fair share of panic/anxiety attacks. I can relate or empathise with the people who do have PTSD/depression to some level and I can assure you all I do tons of research about each mental illness I'll be mentioning in these series. I've put mighty effort in this chapter and the following to make it as accurate as possible. My last desire is to upset someone, please forgive me if I do for it isn't intentional... but thank you all so much for reading! 🥺

Enjoy!

Over a month on the road with a smuggler, who's supposedly your, a FEDRA major general's, enemy and a little girl who turned out to be your second chance at life; you really couldn't help but grow fond of them. Them who offered you protection and their own water. How can you not be grateful for them? Even though a second chance at life wasn't exactly your preferred way out of this apocalypse... But everything happens for a reason, you supposed and sighed in relief once you saw a sign written Jackson County on it. It was when Ellie had asked about what happened between Joel and Tommy that Joel revealed the story, but you were too busy stressing out to listen as you all approached a stream. Your heart started beating faster the closer you got to a hydroelectric power plant, which you had to cross, apparently.

"You okay? You've been awfully quiet," Joel asked, suddenly stopping in front of you.

"Yeah," you gulped, palms clammy. Were you sweating? "I'm- it's okay. I'm fine."

Joel gave you a suspicious look, but didn't say anything and moved to try and turn the wheel to make up a bridge from the metal pieces attached to the power plant.

"Well, that gets us halfway." Ellie observed. "If we get the other one up, we'll make it across."

"Isn't there another way?" You sighed, face pale, fidgeting. "There's got to be another way."

The pair gave you an odd look and Joel spoke: "Well, there seems to be no other way but to cross the river."

"Maybe- maybe there's something that will stop the water from flowing? I'll- check over there." You pointed at a control room behind you and walked over there. When the door didn't open, you kicked it open with such force, Ellie and Joel were left more confused than ever. The place had no lights, which meant there was no power surging through the devices in there, but you began pushing every button in there nevertheless.

"Fuck!" You growled and hit the button table with trembling hands in frustration. You felt hot in your jacket all of a sudden, then noticed Joel getting into the water. You froze then and there, realizing you really didn't have another option but to cross the bridge. Your eyes watered at the realization, but you forced yourself to keep calm like you did countless other times. You were the legendary Alpha One leader, after all. A devoted, disciplined, brave leader. Being afraid or weak was something you could've never been able to afford.

You nodded to yourself, ran your fingers through your hair and walked out, only to find Joel carrying Ellie to the other side on a pallet.

"Go on, give it a spin," Joel said once she jumped off the pallet and reached the other wheel. "So good of you to join us."

You remained quiet at his remark as he got out of the water and watched Ellie complete the bridge. He jumped over to your side and began walking to the other side.

"Hey, be careful crossing that thing!" Ellie called out as you both crossed the makeshift bridge.

"We will," Joel replied as he effortlessly walked halfway through, while your legs began shaking. You tried to keep your composure and walk across as normally as he did, but your legs felt like they were about to give in any moment. Keep it together, you thought to yourself, but it was no use.

"Joel," your hands instinctively reached out to him when you stepped on a particularly wet spot, but he was already across, high-fiving Ellie. Maybe it would've been better if you had told them what happened to Felicity and the results of it on you.

"What?" Joel turned around just before stepping off the piece of metal.

"I- I can't cross this-" you spoke while lowering yourself down to grab the edges, running out of breath.

"What do you mean you can't cross it?" Joel spoke, irritated but confused. "C'mon, you're hafway though already."

"No, no I can't," your voice cracked as the sound of the current started getting louder, your heart beating faster. The images of Felicity's body being thrown into water started to appear on your mind.

"Joel, I think she's scared," Ellie said, worried.

"Alright, I'm gonna come grab you," Joel called for you, his irritation slowly turning into anxiety.

"Okay, okay," you spoke between deep breaths, tears filling your eyes and hanging on for dear life. You shut your eyes tightly as you waited for him. It didn't even take 5 seconds for Joel to walk over to you and hold your shoulder: "I'm here, I got you, let's go."

"Uhh," you forcefully moved your feet toward his direction. "Oh god..."

"C'mon, I'm right here, you can get up." Joel encouraged you while holding your hand and it actually encouraged you for a solid second, so you complied, but you got up too fast and it immediately got you feeling dizzy.

"Oh no, oh- woah!" You shouted when you lost your footing and slipped.

"(Y/N)!" Ellie shrieked the same time Joel yelled, but before your upper body could completely sink into the water, Joel caught you by the arm, his chest hitting the metal with a hard thud.

"Fuck! Joel- get me out!" You cried and clawed at the poor man's arm, feeling the water splash around your neck and soak your hair.

"Calm down! I got you, give me your other hand!" Joel yelled as he tried to get a hold of you. It was the first time he was seeing pure terror in your eyes, the first time he saw you being afraid of something so badly.

You sobbed as he grabbed your other hand and pulled you up, Ellie running to help you out. The both of them pulled you out and Joel quickly dragged you across and kneeled beside you, laying you on the ground.

"(Y/N), it's okay, you're safe- (Y/N)-" Joel held your face in his hands as you continued sobbing, reminding him of Sa-

"(Y/N)!"

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, then bit the side of it, forcing yourself to calm down as you choked back your sobs. Joel and Ellie could do nothing but stare as your body slowly stopped shaking.

You pushed yourself off the ground, trembling lightly and sniffing quietly. Your embarrassment was keeping you from turning around to face them, but Joel's soft voice reached your ears from behind you: "You okay?"

"Yeah," you sniffed. "Yeah, I'm- uh, sorry about that... Let's keep moving."

"You sure? You should rest awhile," Joel reached out to grab your shoulder once more, but you turned around before he could.

"I'll rest when we get there," you said, eyes red, voice cracking a bit and throat hurting. "There's only a few miles left, you said? I'll be fine, let's go."

Joel nodded and told Ellie to move, while he stayed back with you. You stared at the side of your hand which now had deep, purple teeth marks on it, too afraid to look at Joel while he spoke quietly: "Why didn't you tell me you were afraid of the water?"

"I'm not afraid of the water, I..." you groaned, tears still rolling down your face. "It's about... Felicity."

Joel stared for a moment, then nodded with a soft expression on his face. He could tell this was no phobia the moment you mentioned her name.

You all walked, climbed some rocks and went under a tree for a while more as Ellie dreamt about coming across a squirrel and eating it. Poor girl was so hungry, and so were you and Joel but she was just a child.

Your blood ran cold when you came across an old FEDRA territory: "Ain't no way around, we're gonna have to cut through the plant," Joel said and gave you a look. "You think it's empty?"

"I've never heard of this base in the past four years or so- It's gotta be, but we have to be careful." You shook your head.

You and Joel tried to open the doors, but they were... locked. Just as you were about to turn around, a woman appeared to your right on the patrol walls. A chill went up your spine.

"Don't even think about reaching for your weapons-" She spoke, but you grabbed your rifle and Ellie had her little pistol already pointing at the woman. "Tell her to drop her gun, now."

"Ellie, do as the lady says," Joel backed away from the door, all of you raising your hands up reluctantly.

"Please tell me you're lost," the blonde woman sighed.

"We didn't know this place was occupied, we're just trying to make our way through." Joel.

"Through to where?"

Your heart began racing again, at the thought of someone recognizing you. You were 98% sure this place was deserted a few years ago, how-

"They're alright." A familiar voice reached your ears from the left, interrupting your thoughts.

"What, you know these people?" The woman asked in confusion.

"I know him," he spoke and the door opened, to reveal Tommy with a rifle in hand. "He's my goddamn brother."

"Tommy?" Joel was stunned at the sight of him and so were you.

"Holy shit," Tommy said before going in for a hug. It was the first time you'd seen Joel look relaxed and genuinely happy.

"How you doin' baby brother?"

"Goddamn... Let me look at you." Tommy gave his brother a once over, commenting on how fuckin' old he'd gotten, the blonde woman appearing from behind the door as well.

"Shit... (Y/N)? What the hell are you doin' with him?" Tommy's smile grew wide and you extended your hand over to him, which he used to grab and pull you into a brief hug with.

"Good to see you too, Tommy," you smiled. "You gotta take these FEDRA signs down man, gives the feller a heart attack."

"That's exactly the point," Tommy chuckled, then gave a look at the blonde lady. "This is Maria," he looked at you and Joel: "Be nice to her, she sorta runs things around here."

"Ma'am," Joel nodded. "Thanks for not blowing my head off."

"Would've been embarrassing," Maria said. "Considering you're my brother-in-law."

Joel looked at the couple, dumbfounded while you looked between the three of them. When the hell did he got married?!

"We all gotta get wrangled up at some point." Tommy smiled at the both of you like a fool in love. You chuckled and shook your head, remembering the times he used to be a Firefly. Maria and Ellie exchanged a quick conversation before Tommy finally made a move to bring you all inside.

There were literally no words whatsoever to describe how relieved you were. Finally, fucking finally, you had reached your safe haven. Ellie was right, although it needed some work this place was indeed like a small village protected by armed men and a huge FEDRA sign. The walls were long and they looked impenetrable. The moment you heard the door close from behind you, you almost collapsed onto the floor; legs turning into jello and relief washing over you, even though you heard Maria say something about bandits and raids.

At least they weren't Hunters.

You mostly stayed quiet as Joel and Tommy caught up, Ellie petted and admired some horses while a lady and Maria talked to Ellie about them. You just watched and tried to enjoy the moment of peace, locking eyes with Joel for a brief moment before Tommy motioned all of you to follow him for the rest of the tour.

"Really though, how did you end up with Joel, (Y/N)?" Tommy asked right before you walked through a door. You could tell he had a lot of questions, but they had to wait for awhile as you didn't really have the energy to answer them.

"It's uh- a long story." You pursed your lips and stared at him with a pitiful look on your face, only for Maria's walkie to interrupt your exchange. Tommy decided to take up her place when she said she'd rather eat with Ellie and you.

"I'll come with you," Joel said. "You two go with Maria and put some food in yourselves."

"Joel?" Ellie objected with a slightly uncomfortable look on her face.

"C'mon Ellie, let's give the boys some space." Maria smiled at her.

"It's alright Ellie, let's go eat." You rubbed her back and began tailing Maria.

"So," Maria sighed with some energy on her, you wish you had the same. "Before I make any assumptions, would you like to tell me where you're headed or why are you all travelling together?"

Ellie and you looked at each other for a short moment as Maria led you through some rooms: "Uh, actually we were travelling separately, they kinda stumbled across me as I was... dying."

Maria turned around to give you a surprised look, making you shrug and smile awkwardly: "I told you it was a long story."

You began telling her about where your roads crossed, without getting into details, as she got all of you... steaks?

Goddamn, you thought.

"We thought you'd be in the city just as we came across the doors," you spoke after finishing your tale. Maria ate normally, while you barely touched your food. Ellie, on the other hand, almost choked on hers because she was eating too fast.

"Slow down, Ells, the food ain't going anywhere," You handed a(n actual) napkin to her as she struggled to breathe.

"So Ellie isn't your and Joel's daughter," Maria smirked. "What a shame, we had just the perfect place for a family of three."

Your cheeks got dusted with pink as you stared at Maria, mouth slightly agape: "No- Although if you have another perfect place for an adult, that'd be great."

"How do you mean?"

"I escaped FEDRA," You spoke uncomfortably. "My team, they... they all died and, I don't wanna go back. I never wanted to be a part of it to begin with, that's why I was scared when you first showed up. I thought it was an ambush."

Maria nodded sympathetically as you continued: "When Ellie told me of this place, she told me I'd be safe here..."

"Oh," Maria sighed. "Of course, yeah... I see that you and Tommy know each other from way back and that he trusts you?"

"Yeah," you tensed. What if she was the jealous type and wasn't going to let you in because of your 'history' with Tommy? "I used to help him and a few other Fireflies out when they couldn't get around FEDRA. I thought they served a good cause but... It was just a few favours and exchanges here and there."

"I see. He never told me about you, I was surprised when he acted the way he did when he saw you." Oh shit.

"I'm not surprised he didn't mention me," you tensed, visibly, shifting uncomfortablly. "We were just good acquaintances but I guess he was too ecstatic to find out his brother and old acquaintance was alive?"

"Relax," Maria laughed. "I'm just messing with you. Of course he told me about you and the way you watched out for him back in the day."

You really wanted to jump off a window when she confessed and giggled. Give me a break...

"You're cruel," you forced a small smile. You and Tommy really were just good acquaintances, nothing more. You really weren't sure why he hugged you all of a sudden.

"She's really tired, go easy on her," Ellie spoke, mouth full.

"I can tell, you look drained." Maria commented on your appearance worriedly. "Come on now, eat up."

"I'm not hungry," you said. After what happened only some minutes ago, your stomach wasn't in the mood for any food; yes, even though it was a delicious looking steak.

"I'm sure you are," Maria smiled sincerely. "You eat this, then take a bath afterwards and rest as long as you need."

"A bath?" Your voice trembled. "If you tell me you have shampoo or something, I'll kiss you."

Maria giggled: "Unfortunately we don't have shampoos, but we do have hot water and some soaps."

Your eyes widened further more as a hand ran through your hair: "I'm not gonna kiss you, I think I'll just pass out instead. God bless."

You had both of them laughing at your comment, which also made you smile.

"Maria," a voice suddenly echoed through the walkie. "We got the electricity back on!"

"Oh that's great news," Maria sighed into the walkie, relieved.

This place didn't feel real. They had a whole village with protection, electricity, actual food and hot baths with soaps? You just might faint on the spot. Instead, you nibbled at your food. Although you still weren't too hungry, you forced down a few bites to keep yourself going.

Minutes passed as Maria and Ellie chatted this time, peaceful minutes they were, but of course it had to come to an end when alarms went off.

"What's going on?" Ellie panicked.

"Bandits," Maria dropped her smile and got off the table. You and Ellie quickly grabbed your guns and got up as well.

"Stay behind here, I'll cover the door," You said, battle instincts kicking in immediately. They did as you asked and watched as you made your way over to the door, hearing Tommy through the walkie for a brief moment before the door flew open. You immediately fired at the unfamiliar face and heard Maria tell Ellie to hide. You hid behind the door as another man came in, quickly putting a bullet through his head and waiting for a moment to see if more men would come.

"(Y/N)?" You heard Ellie whisper. You began sprinting over to them when another bandit came from behind you. He swung a machete at you with a roar, which you barely dodged as it sliced through your waist a little, making you cry out angrily. You immediately rolled away from the man and shot a straight line of bullets from his chest to his forehead before he could approach you, grabbing the machete from him as he fell.

"Are you alright?!" Maria cried, worried, as you examined your wound.

"Yeah, just stay down!" You replied and threw yourself on the ground when a bullet whizzed only inches away from your ear. You took cover behind a crate and listened to the movements of the men: There were three in the room currently, one near your location, one who just got in the room and one headed over to where Maria and Ellie were.

Alright, you took a deep breath, let's do this.

You jumped over the crate from the left side, opposite to where you got into cover from, having the upper hand with the element of surprise, slicing the bandit's throat with the machete. The guy at the entrance shot at you but the shots were poorly aimed, which gave you time to take down the man as he reloaded. Another gunshot rang through the air from behind you, making you run over to where Ellie and Maria where, only to find a dead bandit on the ground.

"We gotta run!" Maria grabbed Ellie's hand and got up, running for a door on the right side of the room. After making sure the other side was clear, you grabbed the machete before leading the girls through the door to a room which was already occupied by four bandits.

You managed to take two down before ducking and taking cover behind a desk which Maria kicked down in the meanwhile. You reflexively held your wounded side, looked at the blood, then huffed angrily. It got too quiet as you did, which made you look up, only to see another man running toward you with a baseball bat with spikes on it.

You quickly backed off as he swung it at you, which you avoided and immediately took advantage off; your own machete was embedded into his skull before he could raise his bat once more, blood splattering on your face.

While you were struggling to get your blade out of the bandit's head, the other man advanced at you with a cry. You grabbed your machete with both hands and pushed the body off with your foot, the corpse falling almost on top of the other bandit which gave you a moment to recollect yourself and attack. The guy dodged you and you dodged him, machetes clanging against each other.

"(Y/N), duck!" You heard Ellie yell and when you did, a shot rang out from Ellie's pistol and the man hit the floor with a painful yelp. Before you could get off the ground however, a much bigger man with a shotgun came through and fired at you.

"Agh, fuck!" You groaned when you rolled out of his view and onto your wounded side, accidentally dropping your rifle on the floor, out of breath.

"Watch out!" Ellie yelled when the man discovered you behind your cover. Just my luck, you smirked when the man realised he had no ammo left. You immediately jumped up and swung your machete at him, but to your surprise he blocked your attack and grabbed your wrist. He twisted your arm and made you cry out, so you kicked him which made him double over. You tried to kick him a second time, but he quickly regained his composure and went for your waist, hugging it and driving you straight into the wall behind you.

"Oof!" You yelped and coughed, striking him with your elbows. He didn't seem to be affected by your advances as he went to choke you. You couldn't block him in time, causing you to fall on the ground with a painful grunt. Your choking noises must've alerted Ellie, for she went out of cover to shoot at the guy, only to find her pistol to be empty. She began reloading but you were running out of time, so you reached out for the machete laying just across you, then stuck it into the side of his neck when you got a hold of it; blood decorating your face furthermore.

"Oh shit, (Y/N)!" Ellie ran over to you as you fought for air, coughing your lungs out. You pushed the man off you and let Ellie hold your hand as you tried to breathe. "You're okay- I think that was the last of them."

Maria came out of the cover after making sure it was safe, rushing to your side.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," you calmed down, blinking away your tears as you rubbed your neck. That was too close, you thought and got up with Maria and Ellie's help slowly.

"You okay?" Tommy and Joel entered the room all of a sudden, Maria rushing to her husband.

"Yeah- yeah I'm fine." She nodded as Tommy held her. Your breathing was still off track as Joel rushed to Ellie's side.

"Joel! Oh man," Ellie spoke. "They were coming in from every direction-"

"Okay," Joel tried to speak but there was no stopping Ellie: "And then Maria was like We gotta run! So (Y/N) led us here and-"

"Listen-"

"We dove over these tables while (Y/N) took out these guys and this huge guy blasts in with a shotgun!"

"Slow down, slow down-"

"And he attacks her but she swings a machete into his neck-"

"Hey- hey! Are you hurt?" Joel asked, finally getting a hold of Ellie.

"No," Ellie gulped as she gave herself a once over, while Tommy and Maria watched the exchange. "But (Y/N) is!"

Joel turned around to see you leaning onto a table, pressing on your wound with a red face and hand prints around your neck, then walked over to you.

"How bad are you hurt?" Joel removed your hand from your waist and gently held your shoulder.

"Not too bad," You said, breathing slowly getting back on track. "Just need to catch my breath."

Maria and the others brought you to a small nursery and they all waited outside except Ellie. She stayed with you as a lady named Katherine cleaned your wound and applied stitches and bandages on it. While you laid down, you heard Maria yell at Tommy, which made Ellie curious and leave your side. After she was done, you thanked Katherine and went outside only to see an upset Ellie going back in your direction.

"Hey, what's going on?" You stood across her.

"Don't get me wrong (Y/N), I wanna be alone right now."

"Okay, kiddo," You nodded, confused. "I'm here if you wanna talk."

"I know."

You walked over to where Joel was after Ellie went some other direction: "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine- what's going on?"

"You seen Ellie?"

"Yeah and, well, she's pissed," you sighed and watched Maria walk over to both of you.

"Here we go..." Joel muttered before getting up to confront Maria.

"You," She was breathing fire. "If anything- anything at all happens to him, it's on you."

You watched her leave, what the hell was going on? The brothers stood in silence for a moment before Tommy spoke: "She's thankful you know."

"Yeah, I know..." Joel sighed. Tommy gave you a look and you took it as your cue to leave, so you got up and started walking away while they chatted quietly. Just as you were out of hearing range, you heard Tommy call for Joel.

"What is it?" You heard Joel ask when you turned around.

"That girl of yours, she took one of our horses and ran off."

You felt as though boiling water was poured on you from head to toe. Shit.

"Damn it," you heard Joel say as he approached you. "Why the hell did you let her go?"

"I didn't do anything," You said. "She said she wanted to be alone, so I let her."

"You let her be alone outside in the woods?" He growled when he got face to face with you.

"I don't like your tone," you hissed at his false accusation, to which he looked at you as if he was saying the audacity. "I didn't let her do nothin', she said she wanted to be alone- how the hell was I supposed to know she was gonna run off?!"

"Can't keep an eye on a kid..." Joel muttered then walked away, you following him.

"She's neither my child nor my responsibility to take across country and you blame me because she ran off? Please."

"Then why are you acting like her mother all the time?"

"Joel, enough. Let's go." Tommy interrupted when they reached the stables. "Not you, (Y/N). Riding will ruin your stitches."

You opened your mouth to disagree but Tommy insisted: "Please just stay. We got this, it's okay."

"Okay... Be careful." You said with a worried look and Tommy nodded in return, Joel already on the move without sparing you another look.

They rode off - all you could do was watch as they disappeared into the woods.

"They'll be fine, ma'am." The guy at the stables smiled. "Tommy and your man can take real good care of themselves-"

"He's not my man." You growled.

"Oh, well, they'll bring your daughter back-"

"She's not my daughter!" You sighed, exasperated. "Just- tell me where Maria is, please?"

He took you to her and you two sat for a while, complaining about the brothers, eventually laughing about it and making Maria say:

"I just, I really love him... if anything happened to him-"

"I know," you smiled softly. "It's not really my lifestyle, but I know what you mean."

"What do you mean not your style?"

"Love never did it for me. I, well, you could say I forgot what it feels like. I never had the time..."

"Oh I see. Well, you're here now," Maria smiled back, then smirked: "Maybe you'll find someone here, if Joel is too much for you to handle."

Your smile dropped: "Maria, I told you, I'm not interested in that jerk and vice versa... Plus, I can handle him just fine!"

You both giggled again and then Maria led you to a spare chamber she offered you to rest in while she arranged a house for you. You laid down and sighed, sleep pushing your eyelids down as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You were exhausted because of everything you've been through and everything you've felt: You were angry at Joel, worried for Ellie, relieved that you made it to Jackson in one piece, also upset that you possibly won't be seeing Ellie after tomorrow; there was also the attraction you felt toward Joel that you furiously denied, the need to relieve yourself down there and whatnot; but you really didn't think it was appropriate with the grief you pushed down and away slowly resurfacing along your feelings. You were absolutely fatigued, you felt like if someone simply touched you by the shoulder, you'd break and turn into dust then and there. At least in a few hours, when you woke up, Ellie would be back and Joel would mutter an apology - two things would be off your mind before you focused on your heavier emotions.

[kibleedibleedoo]

Hero of your own fate

Chapter 9

A.N. - I went into a bit of a haze while writing this so it is slightly indulgent but its my fic so i get to write what i want XD 

Word count - 1,239

Pairings - Thorin x fem!Reader

Warnings - nudity and teasing

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

-Thorin’s POV-

“Our business is no concern of elves.” Thorin spat out. He and Balin had been lured by Gandalf to one of the many rooms that opened up to overlook Rivendell under the guise of royal duties only to be greeted by Lord Elrond who seemed to be expecting this meeting. To Thorin it seemed that Bilbo followed Gandalf like a lost little puppy, so of course he was at this meeting too regardless of whether he belonged there or not. He found a little bit of himself wishing that you were there in Bilbo’s place, but dismissed that thought as quickly as it had appeared. No, no distractions. Erebor is his focus. Nothing or more accurately no one else.

“Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond.” Gandalf bellowed back.  

It was true as it stands the map was essentially useless, just an old map of the area around the lonely mountain no further information leading to the location of the hidden door. Thorin found it endlessly frustrating. He had spent many hours scouring that map by the light of the campfire while on lookout. Thorin pondered his options for a few more seconds before stepping forth handing the elf the map that was so crucial to the quest.  

-Your POV-  

You sat on your bedroll surrounded by drying laundry, some of yours included, though most of it came from your companions. One by one the dwarves filed in and out of the bath house. Most of them leaving as naked as the day they were born. It seemed you were the only one the elves decided to clothe. They were far more comfortable with their own nakedness than you were, leaving you facing away from your travel companions. This action only amused them further and led to a hilarious game of who can make y/n blush more. Surprising everyone, Ori seemed to be winning. His unsuspecting nature lulling you into a false sense of security, though you weren’t entirely sure he was actively participating. His attention more focussed on drawing the beautiful scenery.  

“Lads leave the poor lass alone” Balin announced as he re-joined the company. “She won't be used to being surrounded by naked men.”  

“Thank you Balin. I’m not really used to seeing anyone nak-” You turned around expecting to see a fully clothed Balin but instead was greeted by another naked dwarf. Quickly you clasped your hands over your eyes as a gasp escaped your mouth. If you couldn’t see anything then at least you wouldn’t see any more limp dicks swinging around. This action caused a round of cheer to echo through the room.  

“A point to Mister Balin” Fili announced proudly.  

“That has to be worth more points brother, he caused her to gasp” Kili laughed clearly enjoying himself.  

“I’ve had enough of you lot” You managed to squeak out while walking in the direction you thought led to the door. Blindly walking into some of the pillars on the way out had caused even more uproar among the group but still you refused to uncover your eyes even after you escaped the room. Down the corridor you walked one hand over your eyes the other skimming the wall. You were not taking any chances.  

-Thorin’s POV-  

Thorin had just emerged from the bath house where he had taken a very relaxing much needed bath. The hot water soothed his muscles and the bath oils left him smelling at least somewhat decent, far more flowery than he was used to, but anything was better than well-travelled dwarf with a hint of troll. Once they reclaimed the lonely mountain the bath houses would be one of the first areas he would focus on.  

Towelling his hair dry, Thorin had failed to notice you blindly ambling toward him until you both collided. Thorin was firmly rooted to the ground but you were sent tumbling backwards. Without thinking he grabbed you and held you close to his bare chest, his damp hair clinging to your skin. He lingered for a moment before letting go. Throughout this happening you never removed your hand from your face, which now helped cover your very red face, though only left Thorin extremely confused.  

“Uncle managed to make her blush without her even looking at him!” Fili shouted from the doorway. Thorin scowled in his direction causing his nephew to retreat. A muffled “that has to worth more points than Balin.” came from one of the dwarves. Leaving Thorin even more confused than before.  

“Sorry.” he watched you step away, your dress now slightly damp from his hair. “I um well I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He smirked at that remark though he wished you weren't so nervous when you spoke to him. He knew it was partially his fault for retreating away from you but getting any closer to you would put this entire quest in jeopardy.  

“Why are you covering your eyes y/n?” he tried to say softly though it came off as a little condescending.  

“I have seen far too many naked people today” A pang of jealousy hit Thorin. Had you seen the rest of the company naked? Why were they naked around you? Then he was hit by a wave of insecurity. How would he compare now that you had seen some of the more attractive members of the company? He was used to feeling self-doubt but it was seldom about his physical appearance, though now he was cursing his vow to keep his beard short while in exile. “and although I’m sure you are very attractive, I would rather leave the rest to my imagination. Wait. No. I didn’t mean it like that. Oh god I should stop talking now.”

“y/n you can open your eyes. I’m not naked” His lower body was covered but part of him wanted you to look. Thorin was rather proud of his physique and his body hair was far more impressive than his facial hair. He knew it was improper but if you had seen the rest of the company then it hardly mattered.  

“I’ve been fooled by that phrase more times than I would like to admit today so I'm going to decline and avoid the company for a few hours until everyone's clothes are dry” You mumbled. It was clear to Thorin you were extremely embarrassed and wanted to get away from the whole situation.  

“There’s a library not far from where we had lunch, instead of turning right continue to the end of the corridor.  I made the mistake of going that way earlier. I will have a word with everyone, make sure they will be covered when you return.” He smiled at you not that you could see, finally the softness in his voice coming through.  

“Thank you Thorin” He watched as you walked away until you were out of sight. He hoped you finally dropped your hand now you were out of the vicinity, he didn’t want you to get hurt. Thorin sighed knowing he was going to have to have words with his nephews, they undoubtedly were behind this whole game although the entire company seemingly needed reminding that you were in fact a lady and should be treated accordingly.

[erimeows]

A New Hobby

Seven smiled, adjusting the hems of his dress as he walked into the bar, smiling when he felt a few pairs of eyes land on him. Allowing his smirk to turn into a smile, the redhead tossed his extension-filled hair over his shoulders, satisfied at the way they gently touched the middle of his back. He'd considered simply hiding his natural red hair and using his blond wig, but he was proud to say that the red hair extensions and the straightener were a better option. He looked fucking amazing.

Recently, the redhead had picked up a new... Hobby, of sorts.

Whenever he had time off from work, he dressed up, did his makeup, and hit the town. Not only did it keep him anonymous, but he liked the positive attention he got, and he got to exercise his makeup skills.

Tonight's destination was a bar that was quite the distance from his house- More in Zen and Yoosung's area near SKY campus than anything, but he liked to talk to (y/n) the bartender, and on rare occasions, he would get free drinks from the people who tried to hit on him.

The redhead continued walking until he reached the bar, sitting at one of the stools, unable to help but notice the way his tightfitting black dress rode up his thighs a bit.

"You seem familiar." Seven looked to his left to see no other than Zen, feeling his face burn red. He was going to get teased so badly for this... "But I know I haven't met you before. I would remember beauty such as yours for sure if I'd seen it." Seven paused, confused as he shot (y/n) a glance. She was tending to another customer, but as she looked back at them and realized what was happening, she almost dropped the drink she was currently mixing. (y/n) listened to Seven talk a lot, and of course, she'd had the privilege of hearing him drunkenly rant about Zen. "What's your name?"

Yeah. This was the situation he was in. How lovely.

Long story short, he was in love with his friend, but knew that keeping it hidden was the best option he had. Realistically, they didn't go together. Seven saw himself as an urchin who hid in the bottom of the ocean, while Zen was like a beautiful fish who swam above him. Far, far above him... He had no chance.

Ugh. He hated when he started thinking like that, especially around the RFA. He was supposed to be happy! He was 707, the Defender Of Justice! Not a sad, pathetic sea urchin...

Well. Either Zen was messing with him, to which he could play along, or Zen didn't recognize that it was actually just his redheaded hacker disaster in a dress with a bit of makeup and some hair extensions.

Seven stopped, mustering up the most feminine voice he could without seeming comical. He had done this on missions, he could do this with Zen. 

"Mary, you?"

"Zen, but you can call me anything you'd like." Seven had to hold back his laughter as he awkwardly put his hand out for Zen to shake, feeling his face burn red as Zen took it and pressed those soft, beautiful lips against his rough knuckles. "Hey, (y/n)!" (y/n) rushed over, ready to take Seven and Zen's order. "Can I get a light Flat Tire and whatever this beautiful lady here wants?"

This prank had continued long enough. Still using the high-pitched voice, hoping to screw with his crush just a little more, Seven asked for his drink. "Just a PhD Pepper, please."

(y/n) smiled and nodded, turning to make their drinks.

"Oh, do you not drink?" Zen asked, seeming completely oblivious. 

Was this still working? Oh my God, this was still working. Zen didn't suspect a thing.

"I do sometimes, I'm just not in the mood tonight. I usually only drink on special occasions, I guess." If special occasions meant when he wanted to block out his thoughts, his statement would've been accurate. But Zen didn't need to know that. "You're Zen the actor, aren't you?"

"I am!" Zen beamed as they were handed their drinks.

"There's this Tripter bot that spreads photos of you around really often, and I've seen just about everything you've ever been in," Huh. This was surprisingly therapeutic. It was nice to tell Zen about the things that he'd never say out loud. Though he hadn't skirted around the subject, Seven had never quite expressed how big of a fan he was of Zen's work, only making it seem as if he wanted to help advance the actor's career from the standpoint of a friend who had the resources to do so, nothing more and nothing less. "You're... Talented."

"Oh, right, the Tripter bot," Zen laughed in a surprisingly bitter manner, taking a drink from his beer as he stared down into it. "There's this guy I'm friends with named Luciel. I've known him for a few years, liked him for a while, actually. He made that bot so more people would see my face- You know, years before I was as popular as I am now."

"You liked him?" Seven had to struggle not to let his words sound choked out, unsure of whether to interpret that in the romantic way or interpret that as Zen having used to like him as a friend, but finally growing tired of his antics and becoming annoyed by him, therefore not seeing him as a friend anymore... Or, something like that.

"Yeah. I liked him a lot. I don't know why I'm talking in past pretense... I mean, I still like him. Love him. He's kind of a goof, and I'm not sure if I understand him fully, but I want to. Ironically, despite me being the actor in our group of friends, I'd say he's better at it than me sometimes. I feel like he's hiding himself, but rather than being turned off by it, it makes me want him more. Oh, I got carried away... Sorry, you shouldn't have to-"

'Does Hyun Ryu is gay? Huh. Doesn't sound quite as funny anymore...' He thought.

"No, you've got me curious about this now. Have you told him this? You know, about liking him..."

"Huh? Well, no, I don't think he'd like me back." Zen hurriedly explained, both him and Seven's faces burning red.

"And what makes you say that? You seem genuine, this guy can't be that out of your league."

"It's not like that... I don't think it's a problem about leagues so much as him just thinking that I wouldn't fit him. I mean, I am kind of a dick to him sometimes. I react harshly to his jokes and judge his eating habits because he doesn't take care of himself, but it's only because I care-"

"Zen," Seven cut him off, talking in his normal voice. "I, uh... Maybe we should talk about this in a more private setting?"

"Oh my God, S-Seven?" Seven paused, eyes awkwardly darting around the room before finally landing on the micro expressions that crossed the actor's face. "How did I manage to fall for that again? We can pretend this never happened, if you want-"

"Why would I do that? Look, you haven't had that much to drink, so you can just head back to your house if you want, but... I was thinking maybe we could go back to my house? We can talk and..." Seven trailed off, hating how uncharacteristically shy he felt at the moment. 

Thankfully, Zen seemed the same way, but grabbed his hand and quietly led him to the bar.

"Let's go."

~

The pair sat in Seven's bedroom, surprisingly relaxed. The lights were off, the only thing keeping the room from being completely being the glow stars that were on Seven's ceiling. 

"So... How long?" The redhead asked, biting his lip when Zen grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. They were laying on Seven's bed, both on their backs, Zen staring up at the ceiling and Seven staring at Zen.

"A few years. I'd be lying if I said I knew exactly when it started. It was all a blur." 

Seven nodded, gripping Zen's hand and holding it to his chest.

"Same here," He'd taken his hair extensions out and changed out of the dress into a t-shirt and pajama-pants, but some of the makeup still remained on his face. Without putting much thought into it, the redhead rolled over on top of Zen, knees straddling the actor's hips. "I'm dangerous, you know," He whispered, balancing most of his weight on one arm and caressing one of Zen's cheeks. "You really shouldn't get involved with me. I have to live my life in secrecy, and you shouldn't have to deal with that-"

"I'm willing to be put in danger, Seven," Zen placed his hand on the one of Seven's that was on his cheek, soothingly stroking his thumb along Seven's rough knuckles. "If it's for you, it's okay. Stop trying to scare me away."

"I'm not trying to scare you away, I'm trying to warn you."

"Don't warn me about anything," Zen leaned up, pressing his lips against Seven's neck and then against his earlobe. "I like surprises."

"Yeah?" Seven moved to roll onto his back, pulling Zen on top of him so that they would switch positions.

"Yeah."

"Surprise me, then."

[bssaz97]

Family Friend

- Patch Island, Kingdom of Vale -

[95 A.G.W.]

[18:55 Hours (6:55 PM)]

10 YO Rowan: Wagon check?

10 YO Summer: Check!

Rowan: Soda?

Summer: Check!

Rowan: Balloons?

Summer: Check!

Rowan: Poppy Rocks?

Summer: Check!

Rowan: All Poppy Rocks accounted for?

Summer: *about to open a bag to eat* Uhhh... Check!

Rowan: Ready to throw some Poppy Rock filled Cola’s at that stupid dentist billboard Sis?

Summer: Heck yeah!

Weapons of choice in hand, the Rose twins stealthily went on their way dragging along twelve bottles of Cola Pops with a box of Poppy Rocks in what would be their best prank yet.

[45 Minutes Later…]

After trekking through the woods, the twin finally arrived at the destination of their latest prank....

A Billboard promoting a local Dentist Office!

Rowan: After two months of saving our allowances and a week’s worth of lunch monies, we finally have the tools to enact today’s plan! For too long we children have to suffer at the hands of those “dental specialists,” so now it’s time to take revenge for children of all ages!

Summer: *fistbumps* Yeah!

Both take a liter of Cola in their hands and begin to use them to fill several balloons. Afterwards they poured a whole sachets worth of the rock candy mixture.

Once they had their weapons ready, they quickly shook a balloon in each hand, took aim and threw them at the billboard with all their might!

When the two balloons had made contact with the billboard, the twins had been pleased to see the sight of two messy and foamy spray on the dental advertisement.

Summer: Woo! That was so cool!

Rowan: Yeah! ...Wanna throw another one?

Summer: Heck yeah!

They prepared more balloons and repeated the action of tossing them in exactly the same way as before.

Soon enough, the billboard was nearly covered with sticky foam and rock candy, all to the twins mischievous glee and amusement.

Sadly their fun was too soon coming to an end, they both stared at the two remaining balloons that they each held.

Summer: Aw... I wish we had bought more balloons.

Rowan: It was fun while it lasted. Come on, let’s make these ones count. Whoever can hit an eye gets to give the other their brussels sprouts for dinner tonight!

Summer: Yuck! Brussels sprouts... you’re on!

The twins held their final individual balloons in one hand, rearing their arms back to throw and are prepared to fling their balloons, but unfortunately for these two, their fun ended when a beam of a flashlight was pointed at them.

“Oi! Hold it right there!”

The twins stopped themselves mid throw, thankfully neither of them let go of their balloons, as they both turned towards the light being pointed at them.

Busted.

A figure walked towards slowly, a female judging by the voice, a northern Valean accent to be accurate. However, neither of the twins could not make out as to who the woman was for the sky had begun to turn dark and the light that she held was exceptionally bright.

The young woman stopped only a meter away from them.

???: Reach for the sky.

The two Rose twins complied, both raiding their hands.

???: Well would ya look at here, I got me some no good troublemakers messin’ around with town property. Don’t try ta deny it either, I caught ya’s red handed.

Rowan: W-We aren’t trouble makers m-mam, we were just playing. Right Sum?

Summer: Y-Yeah, just playing! Honest!

???: Oh? An’ you want to believe that loada crap. Especially when ya’s still got tha proof in ya hands.

Rowan was shaking in place, this was not looking good for either of them, they had been caught and now they were likely in big trouble. Mom would find out and be disappointed, he could get kicked out of the soccer team and they could get this marked on their permanent record.

He was taken away from his thoughts when he faintly heard whimpering, turning his gaze he saw his twin looking on the verge of tears, absolutely terrified at the implication of getting in trouble.

That just solidified Rowan’s decision.

Rowan: I-I …It was my idea! Please if you’re going to take one of us in, just take me and let my sister go! She just went along with my idea!

Summer: Wha-! N-No that’s not true! I threw just as many balloons as he did!

Rowan: *whispering* Summer! I’m trying to save your skin!

Summer: *whispering* Nooo! I don’t want you to go to jail!

Rowan: Please mam, I acted alone! She just watched me do it and I pressured her into it!

???: That a fact? Well that doesn’t mattah, I’m takin’ the two’s of ya in anyway.

Stretching out her empty hand she activated her semblance, causing the tips of her fingers to illuminate a green hue and a symbol of a leaf appeared on her hand. What occurred next shocked the two young Rose twins.

From the ground beneath them, roots emerged and swiftly wrapped around their little wrists, forming makeshift wooden handcuffs. With a pull, the roots brought the two on their knees, making it clear to the two that she meant business.

Rowan: W-Wait! Hold on a minute! Don’t you have to read us our rights or something!?

Summer: Yeah! Tell us we have the right to an attorney!

???: Attorneys are for grownups. Bad kids like the two of ya’s, get sent to juvie. You two already confessed to the crime, so now I’m takin’ ya to tha slammer!

Rowan: B-But!

Summer: I don’t wanna to go to juvie! Please don’t take us!

The two are nearly close to tears when something unexpected happens. The woman in front of them started to …giggle. Soon enough, her laughing grew louder in volume as she started leaning forward, holding onto her abdomen as she was losing herself to her hysterics.

With a wave of her hand the roots receded, returning to the ground albeit the restraints that remained on the twins wrists.

They looked on in bewilderment as the woman who was apprehending them laughed at the two as though she heard the best joke of her life.

???: *inhales* Oh, you shoulda seen the look on the both of ya’s faces! That’s gold! Pure gold!

She turns off her flashlight with a press of a button, no longer hindering the twins vision. When both of their vision became adjusted to natural light, they immediately put together their apprehender’s identity.

Rowan: Rosemary!?

The twin’s apprehender was none other than Rosemary Thornbush, local Huntress and resident of Patch. She also happened to be a friend of their mother and aunt, and they had history. So the redhead was indeed a familiar face to them.

Rosemary: *laughs* Hey Row-Row. I got ya kids good, didn’t I?

Summer: Rosie! That was mean! I actually thought we were in trouble!

Rosemary: I nevah said you ain’t.

A silence fell on both the twins, as they saw

Summer: oh… so we are going to juvie?

Rosemary: Nah. But the two of ya’s are gonna get a mouthful from ya mom.

Rowan: Y-You’re gonna tell Mom?

Rosemary: Yep, and she’ll get to decide the punishment for that. *pointing at the billboard*

Summer: …Can we go to jail instead?

Rosemary: Oh quit you’re whining, get up you two!

Sheathing her flashlight, Rosemary takes both children by the wrist and guides them down the dirt path towards their home.

Rowan: But the wagon.

Rosemary: We’ll get that tomarraw, it ain’t going nowhere.

Rowan: Aw…

[A walk of shame later…]

Ruby Rose gazes down at her two children in front of her, whom she believed were going to a sleepover, but were all actuality caught vandalizing a billboard with the liters of soda and candy that she purchased under the pretense that they were gonna be used by school children to eat and drink. So not only did her naughty children lie to her, but they also committed a crime.

She was not in a good mood.

Ruby: Rowan, Summer, is this true?

Neither of the twin’s answers her and instead avoided her piercing gaze by looking at the floor. Their guilt clearly written on their small faces.

Ruby: *breathes* Well then, for starters, you’re both going to get ready for dinner. Then you both are going help me wash the dishes tonight, which will be spotless, and then you will both get ready for bed and go to your rooms without any TV or games for the rest of the week.

The two winces at the stern tone she used, they only hear it rarely but it’s not one any child enjoys hearing.

Ruby: Then tomorrow morning you both are going to wake up, eat your breakfast …and help clean up the mess you made on that billboard.

Summer: B-But tomorrow’s the weekend.

Ruby: And?

Summer: Nothing Mommy…

Ruby: You have anything to add mister?

Rowan: No Mommy…

Ruby: Good. Now go fresh up, I made dinner and I don’t want it to get cold.

Wordlessly, the twins moved past her and hears them go upstairs to their shared bathroom to wash up for what would undoubtedly be a very awkward meal.

The sound of giggling breaks Ruby’s thoughts as she turns her attention back towards her guest.

Rosemary: Yeesh, I’d hate to make you angry. Especially if I met you as a kid.

Ruby paused then shook her head, laughing a bit herself at the notion. Being only five years her senior and a friend of her older brother at Signal, the young lady has a way of making her seem old.

Ruby: Thank you Rosie for bringing them home, I really appreciate it.

Rosemary: Forget about it Ruby, I’m always happy to help a friend of the family. Your kids certainly did make the highlight of my night.

Ruby: Did you want to stay for dinner?

Rosemary: Thanks for the offa but Ma’s undoubtedly waiting for me to get my butt back home. Maybe another night. Bring the whole family?

Ruby: I think the kids would love that, once they get over you turning them in.

Rosemary: I hate to do it but it’s my job. Also, I plan to keep an eye on them while they clean up their mess tomarrah. I figured you’s gonna ask that.

Ruby: Thank you again, when everything is cleaned up I’ll come to get them. Who knows, maybe you can expect a cheesecake with your name on it?

Rosemary: Yes mam! *has an eager smile on her face*

Ruby: Well then, I hope you get home safely Rosie, let the family know I said hi and that I appreciate their daughter looking out for my children.

Rosemary: Sure thing, Shrub is definitely gonna enjoy hearing about this. Well you have a goodnight, Ruby.

Ruby: You too, Rosie.

With her job seemingly done for the night, the younger red head began on her way, walking down from the Rose residence’s porch and making her way back from the dirt path. But before she could make it there, her attention is taken away when a voice from behind her called out.

Ruby: Rosie!

Rosemary: *looks back* Yea?

Ruby: …Thank you for bringing them back.

Rosemary: *shrugs* Sure thing. What are friends for, am I right?

Without another word, the young huntress resumed on her way. Another normal day on Patch done and the night setting in.

- Fin -

A/N: Thanks again to @tanakaclinkbeard for allowing me to use his OC, Rosemary Thornbush, in my AU. While it is a different version of her and the history is also a variant, I did my best to keep the core traits of the original.

Edit: Also, the reason Rosemary talks differently is because she has what’s referred to as a Northern Valean accent (Boston accent for irl example).

[bolintheturtleduck]

Song Ranking

So I did that song ranking thing and it took HOURS. literal HOURS. Don’t ever do it, I won’t even link it. I hated doing it. But here is my list. And dare I say my Top 130 is immaculate hjgkhg

Some of this is not really accurate though. Could be me or the generator. Like ‘Cold Hearted’ being 500 something???? Not in my house. 

Also don’t go looking for christmas songs. They are all somewhere down there lmao

Anyways! Let’s go!

1 Nasty / Rhythm Nation

1 Rumour Has It / Someone Like You

3 Be Okay

4 Love You Like A Love Song

4 Seasons Of Love

6 Mustang Sally

7 So Emotional

8 Tightrope

9 Barely Breathing

10 Cough Syrup

11 Shake It Out

11 The Boy Is Mine

13 Back To Black

14 Valerie

15 Paradise By The Dashboard Light

16 River Deep, Mountain High

17 Problem

18 Faithfully

19 Gloria

20 I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

21 How Will I Know

22 We Are Young

23 How To Be A Heartbreaker

24 Hand In My Pocket / I Feel The Earth Move

25 If I Die Young

26 I Feel Pretty / Unpretty

27 Bust Your Windows

28 Candyman

29 American Boy

30 I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) / You Make My Dreams

31 If I Can't Have You

32 It's All Coming Back To Me Now

33 Crazy / U Drive Me Crazy

34 ABC

35 Bad Romance

36 It's Too Late

37 Hungry Like The Wolf / Rio

38 I Wish

39 Need You Now

40 Landslide

41 Start Me Up / Livin' On A Prayer

42 Thriller / Heads Will Roll

43 What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)

44 There Are Worse Things I Could Do

45 Losing My Religion

46 The Edge Of Glory

47 Teenage Dream (Acoustic Version)

48 Make You Feel My Love

49 My Prerogative

50 Singing In The Rain / Umbrella

51 Songbird

52 Spotlight

53 Mine

54 Take Me Or Leave Me

55 Take Me To Church

56 No Surrender

57 Never Say Never

58 Constant Craving

59 Brave

60 Born This Way

61 Pumpin' Blood

62 Blame It (On The Alcohol)

63 Glad You Came

64 Give Your Heart A Break

65 It's All Over

66 It's Not Right, But It's Okay

67 Everybody Talks

68 Here Comes The Sun

69 Into The Groove

70 In Your Eyes

71 I Don't Want To Know

72 I Lived

73 I Kissed A Girl

74 Halo / Walking On Sunshine

75 You Can't Stop The Beat

76 She's Not There

77 Nutbush City Limits

78 True Colors

79 Can't Fight This Feeling

80 Breakaway

81 Dancing Queen

82 Don't Stop Me Now

83 And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going

84 Empire State Of Mind

85 Doo Wop (That Thing)

86 Arthur's Theme

87 Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy

88 Toxic

89 This Is The New Year

90 Last Name

91 3

92 A Change Would Do You Good

93 Got To Get You Into My Life

94 Tongue Tied

95 Smooth Criminal

96 Papa Don't Preach

97 Animal

97 Another One Bites The Dust

99 Don't Speak

100 Don't You Want Me

101 A Hard Day's Night

102 Some Nights

103 Somebody That I Used To Know

104 Superstition

105 Survivor / I Will Survive

106 My Life Would Suck Without You

107 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

108 Misery

109 My Love Is Your Love

110 Somewhere Only We Know

111 Blow Me (One Last Kiss)

112 Me Against The Music

113 I Follow Rivers

114 Mean

115 Here's To Us

116 Stronger

117 Summer Nights

118 Make No Mistake, She's Mine

119 Love Song

120 Waiting For A Girl Like You

121 We Got The Beat

122 We Found Love

123 We've Got Tonite

124 Love Shack

125 The Scientist

126 Love Is A Battlefield

127 Run Joey Run

128 Wings

129 When I Get You Alone

130 Uptown Girl

131 Roots Before Branches

132 I'm The Only One

132 I've Gotta Be Me

134 Hopelessly Devoted To You

135 Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way Or Another

136 Dinosaur

137 Dog Days Are Over

138 Hung Up

139 Everytime

140 Go Your Own Way

141 Every Breath You Take

142 Fire And Rain

143 Fighter

144 Not While I'm Around

145 Not The Boy Next Door

146 Fly / I Believe I Can Fly

147 Girl On Fire

148 Oops!... I Did It Again

149 Stop! In The Name Of Love / Free Your Mind

150 Stereo Hearts

151 Bills, Bills, Bills

152 Somebody Loves You

153 Hold It Against Me

154 Turning Tables

155 Wide Awake

156 You May Be Right

157 Cell Block Tango

158 A Boy Like That

159 All Out Of Love

160 Alfie

161 Jessie's Girl

162 I'm A Slave 4 U

163 I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

164 I'll Stand By You (Amber)

165 I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)

166 Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself)

167 Lovefool

168 Just Can't Get Enough

169 Just Give Me A Reason

170 Keep Holding On

171 Like A Virgin

172 New York State Of Mind

173 My Dark Side

174 More Than A Feeling

174 My Cup

176 I Want To Hold Your Hand

177 I Want To Break Free

178 I Want To Know What Love Is

179 I Want You Back

180 Teenage Dream

181 Take My Breath Away

182 America

183 Glory Days

184 I Say A Little Prayer

184 I Wanna Sex You Up

186 I Will Always Love You

187 A Thousand Years

188 Like A Prayer

189 Don't Rain On My Parade

190 Disco Inferno

191 Don't Stop Believin' (Regionals)

192 Dream On

193 Get It Right

194 Gold Digger

195 Telephone

196 Without You

197 You're The One That I Want

198 Tell Him

199 Let Me Love You

200 Good Vibrations

200 Raise Your Glass

202 Run The World (Girls)

203 Gimme More

204 Hey Jude

204 How Deep Is Your Love

206 Higher Ground

207 Vogue

208 Something's Coming

209 Footloose

210 Forget You

211 Gives You Hell

212 Everybody Wants To Rule The World

213 Far From Over

214 Fat Bottomed Girls

215 Hair / Crazy In Love

216 Hall Of Fame

216 Hello

216 Hello, I Love You

216 Somebody To Love

216 Time Warp

216 To Love You More

222 Last Friday Night

223 Hate On Me

224 Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

225 Locked Out Of Heaven

226 Rose's Turn

227 Everybody Hurts

227 Express Yourself

227 Loser

227 Shout It Out Loud

231 Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours

232 Pompeii

233 Party All The Time

234 Our Day Will Come

235 Perfect

236 Old Time Rock & Roll / Danger Zone

237 Greased Lightning

237 Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

237 Live While We're Young

240 Firework

240 Love Child

242 Fire

243 You're All I Need To Get By

244 The Scientist (Acapella)

245 Afternoon Delight

246 Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)

247 Listen To Your Heart

248 Tik Tok

249 You Keep Me Hangin' On

250 The Rose

251 You Can't Always Get What You

Want

252 Let's Have A Kiki

252 Listen

254 Pretending

255 More Than A Woman

256 More Than Words

257 Hot For Teacher

257 No One Is Alone

257 Not The End

257 Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag 257 O Christmas Tree

257 One Hand, One Heart

257 One

257 Only Child

257 Proud Mary

266 Heroes

267 Hey Ya!

268 Getting Married Today

268 Happy

270 Hell To The No

271 Night Fever

271 Sgt. Pepper's Lonley Hearts Club

Band

273 The Music Of The Night

273 The Only Exception 273 The Rain In Spain 273 The Safety Dance 273 Thousand Miles 278 Billionaire

278 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 278 The Happening

278 The Lady Is A Tramp

282 Borderline / Open Your Heart 282 Born To Hand Jive

284 Control

284 The Longest Time

286 Give Up The Funk

287 Chasing Pavements

288 Man In The Mirror

288 Say

288 Sexy And I Know It 288 Shout

292 Marry The Night

293 Mamma Mia

294 Loser Like Me

295 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 1)

296 Colorblind

297 Diva

297 Don't Cry For Me Argentina

299 Don't Dream It's Over

300 Let It Be

301 Don't Stop

302 Highway To Hell

302 Hold On

302 Holding Out For A Hero 302 We Will Rock You

302 What I Did For Love

302 What It Feels Like For A Girl

308 Take On Me

309 For Once In My Life

309 Good Riddance (Time Of Your

Life)

309 Hello Goodbye

309 Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love

309 Home

309 Homeward Bound / Home 309 Honesty

309 Human Nature

317 Drive My Car

317 For Good

317 I'll Remember

320 I'll Stand By You (Cory)

321 On My Own

321 Taking Chances

321 The Bitch Is Back / Dress You Up 321 Werewolves Of London

325 My Man

326 My Life

327 My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)

327 Never Going Back Again 327 No Scrubs

330 Creep

331 Come What May

332 Never Can Say Goodbye

333 Who Are You Now?

334 You Give Love A Bad Name

335 Womanizer

336 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

337 Come See About Me

337 P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) 337 People

337 Popular

337 River

337 Roar

337 Rolling In The Deep 337 Santa Baby

345 Boogie Shoes

346 At Last

347 I'm The Greatest Star

348 Jar Of Hearts

349 It's Time

350 It's My Life / Confessions Part II

351 It's Not Unusual

352 I'm So Excited

352 I'm Still Here

354 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 5) 354 Don't You (Forget About Me) 354 Dreams

354 Unchained Melody

354 Uptown Funk

359 Bohemian Rhapsody

359 Don't Stop Believin' (Rachel) 359 Lucky

362 Don't Stand So Close To Me /

Young Girl

363 Bridge Over Troubled Water

363 Bust A Move

365 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

366 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

(Reprise)

367 Longest Time

368 Applause

369 All Of Me

370 Any Way You Want It

370 Anything Could Happen

372 Red Solo Cup

372 Rock Lobster

372 Rockin' Around The Christmas

Tree 372 Rockstar

376 Saving All My Love For You

377 (I've Had) The Time Of My Life

377 Piano Man 377 Poison 377 Poker Face

381 A House Is Not A Home

382 4 Minutes

383 Black Or White

384 Blackbird

385 All By Myself

385 Smile

385 You Make Me Feel So Young

388 Wrecking Ball

389 (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural

Woman

389 (You're) Having My Baby

391 Superman

392 Ain't No Way

392 Stayin' Alive

394 Still Got Tonight

394 The Most Wonderful Day Of The

Year

394 The Way You Look Tonight / You're Never Fully Dressed Without A

Smile 394 This Time

394 Whatever Happened To Saturday Night?

399 They Long To Be Close To You

400 All About That Bass 400 Sing!

400 So Far Away

400 Some People

404 Addicted To Love

404 Moves Like Jagger / Jumpin' Jack Flash

404 Sing

404 Someday We'll Be Together 404 Somethin' Stupid

404 Something

404 Somewhere

404 Stand

412 Scream

413 Rather Be

414 Next To Me

414 No Air

414 Papa Can You Hear Me? 414 Physical

414 Piece Of My Heart

414 Pinball Wizard

414 Pony

414 Rehab

422 La Isla Bonita

422 Lean On Me

422 Let's Wait Awhile

422 Little Drummer Boy

422 Little Girls

427 Light Up The World

428 Science Fiction Double Feature

428 Silent Night 428 Silly Love Songs

431 Le Jazz Hot

432 Out Here On My Own

432 Pure Imagination

434 School's Out

435 Hey, Soul Sister

435 I Kissed A Girl (Season Six) 435 Sway

438 I Believe In A Thing Called Love

439 I Have Nothing

440 I Am Changing

441 I Saw Her Standing There

441 I Was Here

441 I Won't Give Up

441 I'll Be Home For Christmas 441 I'll Never Fall In Love Again 446 Funny Girl

446 I Look To You

446 I Only Have Eyes For You 446 I Still Believe / Super Bass 446 Story Of My Life

451 I Love New York / New York, New

York

452 What Makes You Beautiful

453 What The World Needs Now

454 An Innocent Man

454 Bad

454 Because You Loved Me

454 Bein' Green

454 ByeByeBye/IWantItThatWay 454 IfIWereABoy

454 Take A Bow

454 Take Me Home Tonight

462 Barracuda

463 Beauty School Drop Out

464 Chandelier

465 Baby It's You

466 It Must Have Been Love

467 At The Ballet

468 Baby One More Time

469 Beautiful

469 Being Alive

469 We Built This City

472 Being Good Isn't Good Enough 472 I Just Can't Stop Loving You 472 I Love It

472 Isn't She Lovely

476 All That Jazz

476 Blurred Lines

476 Bootylicious

476 Extraordinary Merry Christmas 476 Father Figure

476 Fight For Your Right (To Party)

476 Flashdance... What A Feeling

483 I Don't Know How To Love Him

484 Fix You

484 I Could Have Danced All Night 486 Push It

486 Rainbow Connection 486 Rise

489 Promises, Promises

490 Oh Chanukah

490 Ohio

490 One Love (People Get Ready) 490 Only The Good Die Young 494 Baby

494 Dancing With Myself

494 Defying Gravity

497 Baby, It's Cold Outside

498 Cherish / Cherish

498 Christmas Wrapping 498 Closer

498 Downtown

498 Endless Love

498 Forever Young

498 Friday I'm In Love 498 Friday

498 Gangnam Style

498 Get Back

498 Safety Dance

509 Cold Hearted

510 Clarity

511 Centerfold / Hot In Herre

511 Just The Way You Are 513 Jumpin', Jumpin'

513 Kiss

515 Juke Box Hero

515 L-O-V-E

517 Jolene

518 Jump

518 La Cucaracha

520 Dream A Little Dream

521 A Little Less Conversation

521 Beth

521 Bitch

521 Don't Sleep In The Subway 521 Girls Just Want To Have Fun 521 Have Yourself A Merry Little

Christmas 521 Help!

521 I Dreamed A Dream 521 I'm His Child

521 I'm Still Standing 521 Ice Ice Baby

521 Imagine

521 In My Life

521 It's A Man's Man's Man's World 521 Lose My Breath

521 Memory

521 Outcast

521 Over The Rainbow

521 Same Love

521 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 521 Teach Your Children

521 Tell Me Something Good

521 The Final Countdown

521 Uptight (Everything's Alright) 545 Big Ass Heart

545 I Love L.A.

545 I Melt With You

548 Big Girls Don't Cry

548 Mary's Boy Child

548 O Holy Night

548 On Our Way

548 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One

Beer

548 One Less Bell To Answer

554 Maybe This Time 554 My Favourite Things 554 My Sharona

557 Marry You

558 Cool

559 Cool Kids

560 Celebrity Skin

560 Cheek To Cheek

560 Dance The Night Away

560 Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend / Material Girl

560 Don't Go Breaking My Heart 560 Don't Wanna Lose You

560 Feliz Navidad

560 Here Comes Santa Claus 560 I Know What Boys Like

560 I Know Where I've Been 560 Trouty Mouth

571 Total Eclipse Of The Heart

572 Don't Make Me Over

573 Call Me Maybe

574 We Are The Champions

575 Time After Time

576 Bring Him Home

576 Broadway Baby 576 Buenos Aires 576 Burning Up 576 Yesterday

581 Boys / Boyfriend

582 Mercy

582 You Get What You Give

582 You Have More Friends Than You

Know

582 You Learn / You've Got A Friend

582 You Should Be Dancing

582 You're All The World To Me 582 You're My Best Friend

582 You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' 590 Break Free

590 Jingle Bell Rock 590 Jingle Bells

590 Joy To The World 590 One Of Us

590 Tonight

590 You're The Top

590 You've Got To Hide Your Love

Away

590 Your Song

599 To Sir, With Love

600 Torn

601 Wake Me Up

601 Wannabe

601 Wedding Bell Blues

604 Touch A Touch A Touch A Touch Me

604 UpUpUp

606 All Or Nothing

606 Alone

606 Cry

606 Leaving On A Jet Plane

606 Let It Go

606 Mickey

606 Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) 606 Mr. Roboto / Counting Stars 606 Try A Little Tenderness

606 U Can't Touch This

606 Uninvited

606 Vacation

606 Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' 606 What Kind Of Fool

606 Whistle

606 Will You Love Me Tomorrow /

Head Over Feet 606 Wishin' And Hoping

606 YouAndI/YouAndI

624 Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?

624 Do You Hear What I Hear? 624 Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh

Yeah)

624 Lucky Star

624 Merry Christmas Darling 629 Damn It, Janet

629 Danny's Song

629 Daydream Believer

629 Deck The Rooftop

629 Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead 634 All I Want For Christmas Is You 634 Angels We Have Heard On High 634 Anything Goes / Anything You Can

Do

634 As If We Never Said Goodbye

634 As Long As You're There 634 Bamboleo / Hero

634 Bella Notte

634 Copacabana

634 Do They Know It's Christmas? 634 Last Christmas

634 Let It Snow

634 We Need A Little Christmas

634 Welcome Christmas

634 Whenever I Call You Friend

634 Whip It

634 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life

650 All You Need Is Love

651 Americano / Dance Again

652 Crush

653 Big Spender

653 Make 'Em Laugh

653 White Christmas

653 Yeah!

657 (Charlie Chaplin song)

657 (originally by Michael Bublé) 657 Away In A Manger

657 Baby Got Back

657 Christmas Eve With You 657 Come Sail Away

657 You Are Woman, I Am Man 657 You Spin Me Round (Like A

Record)

665 You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

666 Starlight Express

666 The Trolley Song

666 The Winner Takes It All

666 There's A Light (Over At The

Frankenstein Place) 670 Take Care Of Yourself

671 Sweet Caroline

672 Ben

672 Best Day Of My Life 672 Blue Christmas

672 Candles

676 Starships

676 Suddenly Seymour 676 Sweet Transvestite

679 Thong Song

680 The Fox (What Does The Fox

Say?)

680 The Living Years

682 The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)

682 The First Noël

[thefudge]

Do you have any Romanian (language or just content-wise) media recs? Particularly novels and poetry but really any must-sees/must-reads are welcome!

uuuu! 

my brain is too fried right now to do any kind of exhaustive list so i’m gonna rec a few things that i know you could get your hands on/available in translation:

for two thousand years, by mihail sebastian - really heartbreaking yet also lucid, adventurous and darkly humorous memoir of a Jewish writer in his youth at the height of nazism in romania (there’s even a Penguin classic of it)

diary of a short-sighted adolescent by mircea eliade - a funny and bittersweet bildungsroman about a bookish teenager who wants to read everything now and be the cleverest person alive while also struggling with being super lazy and unmotivated because he’s young and restless, it’s very #relatable. but it’s also fascinating to read this in opposition with “for two thousand years” because eliade entertained legionnaire nazi sympathies at one point. (also, you should check out his novellas too, especially the fantastic ones)

anything you can find in translation by gabriela adamesteanu - just lovely, delicate prose about growing up, being an adult, inhabiting your body and your feelings in an oppressive world 

the hatchet by mihail sadoveanu (apparently, there is a translation) - a lot of people give this novel flak, mostly because we had to read it in high school, but it’s a great and deceptively simple little novel that says a lot more about people than it cares to admit. the action takes you through several villages in the East-Carpathians, where a peasant woman goes in search of her missing husband. it’s a fascinating mixture of crime and folklore and mythology. 

any novella by costache negruzzi, but especially “alexandru lapusneanu”, another classic we had to read in school and which gets a lot of flak. it’s so bonkers and #quality-trash. let’s just say there’s a scene where the power-hungry voievod/prince lapusneanu enacts a red-wedding situation and builds a pyramid of freshly severed heads to impress his lady wife *swoon* 

the forest of the hanged by liviu rebreanu - i know people argue this isn’t his best novel, but it’s got the most heart. it’s the story of a soldier/philosopher in WW1 who falls in love with people again. that’s it. he falls in love with people, and the war and everything in between doesn’t matter anymore. or it matters only as it pertains to people, and people alone. 

gallants of the old court by mateiu caragiale - a bizarre gem of early 20th century Romanian nightlife, a wonderful, orgiastic fugue, feverish and infuriating. it’s mostly about rich men and social-climbers getting into existential trouble, but also into real trouble. normally, because the action takes place right before WW1, this would signify the end of an era. but we don’t really have a beginning or end. we are part-balkan, part-french imitators, part-whatever-sticks. nothing moves us, and everything does. and that’s why it’s a sort of love/hate letter to romanians 

in terms of poetry, some personal faves:  nichita stanescu, ana blandiana, monica pillat, marin sorescu,  a.e. baconsky, lucian blaga, emil brumaru, nora iuga, marta petreu, nina cassian. and yes, mihai eminescu, our national poet, though i’m often in two minds about him.  

poetry in translation is really hit and miss because of the “untranslatable”, so here’s two lines from a poem by nina cassian, because i want to show you what i mean:

            De când m-ai părăsit mă fac tot mai frumoasă             ca hoitul luminând în întuneric. 

this roughly and poetically translates to:

          Since you left me I’ve grown more beautiful

           like the corpse lighting the dark 

and this is sort of lovely on its own, but you’d need to know and hear and taste the word “hoit” in romanian to really feel the abjectness, because “hoit” is a smelly, ugly yet also alluring, already decomposing version of “cadavru” aka cadaver/corpse. also “ mă fac tot mai frumoasă” cannot be accurately summed up in “i’ve grown more beautiful”. a literal translation would be “I make myself more beautiful”. in romanian, this is obviously idiomatic and not literal. and yet, these strange self-reflexive valences make these lines strong and eerie, as if the speaker were authoring her beauty, shaping it out of clay and darkness and “hoit”,  like a butterfly cracking the corpse’s shell to get out, but also retaining some of its mesmerizing stench. why did i pause to do a close-reading of romanian poetry??? anyway, you catch my drift

in terms of movies, a recent one i really loved was sierranevada by cristi puiu, which is a neurotic family drama that drains you but also lifts you up 

and yeah, the hype is real, 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days by cristi mungiu really is that good (about two young women trying to get an illegal abortion in communist romania. it won the palme d’or for very legit reasons. it breaks you in small ways. the very last shot of the film you’ll carry with you forever). i also liked graduation by cristi mungiu, where a young overachieving girl is about to graduate high school and go on to study abroad, until a terrible event unmoors both her and her family. the movie turns almost hallucinatory at one point, filled with ambiguity and a kind of sleep-walking quality 

tales from the golden age by cristi mungiu (him again!) is also fantastic for anyone who wants to get a taste of communist romania and the sad-funny absurdities of everyday life. this movie is split in 2 parts and the format is that of an anthology, almost like watching several short films at once. and there is one film in the anthology that always turns me inside out, and it’s really silly, it’s this bonnie and clyde type story about this girl and boy who meet at a party and devise an ingenious get-rich scam and just run around a few neighborhoods trying to put it into practice and it’s...the sweetest, most incomplete thing. there is such a strange, lovely connection there that never gets realized, and there is a MOMENT between them where he helps her step down from this ledge and he holds her briefly to him and i remember being in the cinema and thinking THIS, this is THE MOMENT where i felt these people were real. it was such an honest, lovely moment. like the equivalent of this song. ANYWAY, why am i rambling so much??? this ask was supposed to be SHORT. 

aferim! by radu jude is also a really neat movie and provides a look into the historical romanian/rroma relationship and why it’s so messed up, yet also so organic

the death of mr. lazarescu by cristi puiu is also a great little film about a man who gets sick and goes to the hospital. and...dies, as you can tell from the title. on the surface, he dies because of institutional ineptness and a broken healthcare system. at a deeper level, he dies because we no longer know how to help people. various hospital staff in the film do try to help him and fail for various stupid or quietly heartbreaking reasons. it’s a movie about being physically unable to care. there’s indifference, sure, but also this great exhaustion of the human spirit. but the movie is also darkly funny. might not be a great pandemic watch, but then again it might be exactly what you need 

there are soooo many other classics in terms of books (morometii by marin preda, for instance, about a patriarch in a small village in the South who slowly realizes the world he used to live in doesn’t have room for him anymore, and maybe it never had) but i’m gonna end on a quote from ion creanga, one of the most cryptic classics of romanian lit:

“Şi eu eram vesel ca vremea cea mai bună şi şturlubatic şi copilăros ca vântul în tulburea sa”

my translation: “and I was cheerful like the best weather and frolicsome and childish like the wind in its cloudiness” 

and again, the words in romanian and their particular sound and bite (”şturlubatic”, “tulburea”) immediately take me elsewhere. creanga writes about childhood, but it’s never really childhood. he writes as an adult who, in my opinion, was never really a child, but a weird, small god of the land. i mean the word “tulburea” can mean both “turmoil” and “muddiness”. the wind can be anguished, but also just a little cloudy, just a little hazy, shrinking its agony, howling it in the child. it’s eerie and gorgeous. so, that’s what he does: creanga writes about children as if they were wind-like spirits. he writes stories about devils and the peasants who trick them and school books filled with spit and flies, and warm eggs stolen from nests and fairy-tales of a world that is buried somewhere inside us, but not too deep, things hidden under our clothes or nails or even in our hair. and it’s all so physical and convoluted, just like his prose. and i don’t think anyone will ever make sense of him and that’s what makes him so discombobulatingly great.

anyway, this was supposed to be...like, really short! and not gassy! i’m sorry. i love waxing about all this gay stuff. i’m so gay about it. 

realistically tho, the nearest thing you’ll find in your local bookshop is probably books by famous ‘theater of the absurd’ playwright, eugen ionesco, or novels in translation by contemporary author mircea cartarescu. both are pretty good, so go for it! (if you want to start small, i’d recommend REM by mircea cartarescu, because it’s so trippy and meta and captures that summer holiday eeriness so well. it goes well with this romanian song sung in english)

okay byeeeee