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#I want that pin so badly but I refuse to buy one it must be earned
great-and-small · 2 years
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Apparently if you find a tagged Horseshoe crab and report it to Fish and Wildlife they’ll send you a certificate with info about your crab AND a pewter horseshoe crab pin! Keep your eyes peeled 👀
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(Photo from the Nantucket Conservation Foundation)
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sylphiem · 4 months
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I found this text saved in my drafts from years ago… how amusing to be saved from romanticizing the past with my own pen.
My lover and his others
His ex: An intelligent, tenacious woman. A stoner with a work ethic mature beyond her years. One of the few women I’ve fantasized about, mostly because he asked me long ago while they were together (and some craven part of me wanted him badly) if I’d join them on some occasion. She’s got a mischievous mouth. 
His interest: A lithe, private yoga teacher with a wit. She seems to be open and enthusiastic, following her desire into what she’s passionate about. I’ve never seen her in person, but I stalked her online more than I’d let on.
This morning has been a strange, molotov cocktail of emotions. Information about these two keeps pouring in, stoking my feelings toward him (and myself as a result) into an unpredictable fire. 
I’ve a mutual friend with the ex, and this mutual friend tells me more than I ought to know about their fallout. I know about how she didn’t ask him about me, long long after we’ve been seeing each other. I know about how they drank together and then she tried to touch him and how he refused. He told her for the first time about me, and she stormed out. 
Apparently, we’ve a date in eight days with the Interest. If she drinks, I’m going to bring a really nice red wine. I’m stressing myself about it, all worried about being attractive to her. I’m obsessing over skin care routines, tooth whitening kits, pedicures, underthings, fucking kegels, for heaven’s sake. 
With no small amount of exasperation with myself, I must ask: “Why, why, WHY can’t I simply consider my own experience first? Why must I attend to his pleasure and the pleasure of a stranger woman without first considering my own? Why am I worried that she won’t like the look of me? That is absurd. I must examine and set in place a set of beliefs first: 
One, I am beautiful. I will make my appearance so that I am pleased with it. I will take pictures for myself. I’ll do the tooth-whitening, I’ll keep up the skin routine, I’ll finish the kegels, I’ll get the pedicure, I’ll buy lingerie that pleases me. But an unalterable fact must be that I like my body with it’s bold, muscular shoulders, prominent upper abs, lean and odelesque back, shapely legs, soft breasts with rosie nipples, pretty feet, bravely calloused hands. I like my face, with my large and dewey eyes, mischievous eyebrows, lips somehow square and curving all at once, all framed with wild, wispy-curly, long, dark-brown hair. 
Maybe I’ll swap my piercings out for little rings instead of their pins. 
Two, I must attend to my own pleasure. I will promise myself to be present to my own desire in the moment. I will kiss if I am uncertain, but no more. 
Three, I will be completely frank with him about my fears, insecurities that remain after 
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animeomegas · 3 years
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Who is the most needy while in heat?
I decided to write for a few characters for different categories: Clingiest, Horniest, Territorial and Requires Support. Enjoy~
Who is the clingiest:
1.     Itachi – Itachi has only ever had soft heats in his life(heats that are not sexually, but instead emotionally charged). He didn’t have his first heat until he was already part of the Akatsuki and didn’t feel safe enough for a proper heat. His health also isn’t the best, so his body knows to have soft heats rather than normal heats. Because he only has these types of heats, they are very strong. He feels a constant urge to be by your side, ideally with you touching him at all times. He can’t take suppressants because they mess with his illness, so he can’t minimise the effects. He spends the two days holed up in his room, the door locked and sealed shut. He won’t let you leave his nest much, growling and whining if you try. His instincts are screaming at him that he has to protect you and that you have to protect him. He can get a little addled and confused because the impulses are too strong. He’s extremely clingy in heat and he hates it. He always feels embarrassed afterwards.
2.     Izuku – Izuku is prone to crying and feeling very rejected if you neglect him during his preheat or heat. He feels the sting of rejection very strongly and feeling abandoned during a heat is… not good for omegas to put it lightly. It can make them sick if it’s serious enough. So, Izuku will definitely try and keep you in his nest as much as possible, asking wordlessly to be carried with you if you need to leave for a moment. Going to work or leaving the house during his heats (even when he’s on suppressants) is a no-no for him. He will do anything to get you to stay with him, including but not limited to hiding your keys, seducing you, and begging.
3.     Mammon – From the second he’s in preheat, he literally will not leave you alone. He’s very attention starved, but his slight tsundere tendencies keep him from acting on his need for affection. His heat and preheat remove the tsundere tendencies and make him even more desperate for attention. He’s hanging off of his Alpha constantly, following them around and sleeping in their room. He enjoys laying on top of them while they stroke his hair or rub his back. Will growl away anyone who tries to take you from him. If the growling doesn’t work, he’ll whine at you to stay with him because he knows you can’t refuse him when he’s like that.
4.     Kaoru – He doesn’t like how clingy he is, but it’s very uncomfortable for an omega to ignore their heat urges, so he doesn’t bother trying to resist it. He’s very prone to loneliness when he’s in heat or preheat, so he likes it if you’re with him as much as possible. He will spend most the time sitting on your lap, innocently and not so innocently.
5.     L – He isn’t particularly fussed about constant physical affection, but he wants you to be in the same room as him at all times. He constantly turns away from his work to make sure you’re still sitting in the room with him, and in the evenings, he likes if he can sit on your lap while he works. His heats are reduced from suppressants, and his libido is very low generally, but he still likes to make sure his alpha is safe and with him during his heat and be surrounded by his alpha’s scent.
Who is the most territorial during heat:
1.     Sasuke – Will straight up growl at anyone who gets too close to you both, and it won’t end well if someone shows up at his house when he’s in heat. Sasuke immediately views whoever it is as a threat and would likely try and attack them, especially if they were a stranger or someone he didn’t like. He is a lot less stressed during this time if you both just hole up at home for his preheat and heat. One of the reasons he makes his nest in a walk in wardrobe is because it’s an easily defendable place.
2.     Shikamaru – He has to have an arm around you or vice versa at all times. He makes sure you always smell like him during his preheats, just as a warning to other omegas. In heat, he gets very intense and caught up in the feelings, so interruptions from outsiders will be jarring and he’s likely to react aggressively.
3.     Shinsou – Is very paranoid when in heat and preheat. He gets nervous about people coming to try and hurt him and his mate while he’s weak, so he doesn’t like anyone he doesn’t know around you or him. Shinsou is fiercely protective of his family and his alpha. When he’s actually in heat, he would probably try to attack anyone who got too close.
4.     Belphie – Likes to just lay down and sleep with you when he’s in preheat, and whenever any of his brothers (or anyone else) try and get you to move, he growls them away, wrapping his arms around your chest to stop you from going anywhere. Would definitely bite someone if they were brave enough to try and remove him from you by force. When he’s in heat, he uses compulsion charms to keep people away from the attic where he likes to spend his heat with you.
5.     Diavolo – He can’t keep his hands or lips off of his alpha during preheat, but not just in a horny way, mainly in a ‘they’re mine’ kind of way. He likes to show off his relationship to others as a warning to stay away. He is delightfully smug if you return the treatment.
6.     Kusuo – He pretends he isn’t being territorial when he’s in preheat, but whenever you end up in conversation with someone, Kusuo is just suddenly standing next to you, I wonder how that happened? He also makes a way greater effort to ditch anyone who might interrupt his alone time with you. He turns his friends away if they show up at his door when he’s in preheat. When in heat, he gets off on the ‘you’re mine and I’m yours’ aspect.
7.     Light – This boy in greedy for your attention when he’s in preheat, and very bitter if he doesn’t get enough of it. He directs most of his anger at anyone who he perceives as taking you away from him. He will lie and manipulate others away from you both during this time with zero hesitation or regret. Would be possessive if you gave too much attention to a book while he’s in heat.
Who needs the most support:
1.     Alois – I headcanon that Alois has some specific heat related trauma, that I’m not going to get into right now, that impacts him greatly. His alpha is his protection. He only feels safe during his heat if you’re there with him. If you leave him alone, even just for a minute, he will panic, fear mixing with his already heat addled brain. For that reason, he needs a great deal of support, he needs a gentle touch and a constant presence.
2.     Shouto – His father paid to have him on illegal grade suppressant without him knowing just after Shouto’s quirk came in. Endeavour got the quirk he wanted, but not the dynamic he wanted, so he tried to change that. He experiences similar heats to Neji when he first comes off of suppressants. He’s so sensitive everywhere that it hurts. He wants to be touched so badly, but it hurts him. His alpha needs to work with him slowly to help him overcome the sensitivity.
3.     Neji – I mentioned before that due to the suppressant abuse that was inflicted on Neji as a child, his heats can be very painful, especially at first, much like Shouto. For a more in-depth analysis, I have headcanons on Neji’s suppressant abuse listed on my pinned masterlist.
4.     Keigo (Hawks) – He suffers from really bad paranoia during his heats. At first, it’s unclear what’s triggering the paranoia, but eventually it becomes clear that his treatment in the hands of the Commission have left him some nasty mental scars. When Keigo is in heat, he needs to have the door locked and bolted, the windows lock and covered with thick curtains and blinds, he needs to be rid of all technology or anything a person could use to contact him, and he needs all supplies to be in his nest with him so that neither you nor him have to leave that one room. It’s why the room he nests in must have an ensuite. He tends to have soft heats (emotionally charge rather than sexually charged) because his paranoia makes his body think he’s in too much danger to have a proper heat. It’s lucky that his heats normally only last for a day.
 (N-sfw under cut~)
Who is the horniest:
1.     Sebastian – He barely manages to keep it together during the day when he has to serve Ciel, but at night? You better be fucking him so well that he can’t stay coherent. He needs a full eight hours of sex before the heat withdraws enough for him to focus. A demon’s heat is very intensive after all.
2.     Kakashi – Every little thing sets him off when he’s in heat. Maybe you knotted him and the heat is subsiding a little, but then you bit your lip or stretch in a certain way, and immediately he’s consumed by his heat again. He struggles to keep it in his trousers long enough to hydrate and sleep. Sometimes he needs to cockwarm his alpha just to be able to calm his instincts enough to sleep.
3.     Tamaki A – He gets so horny at the peaks of his heat that any and all nervousness completely vanishes. He will beg his alpha shamelessly to get what he needs. He cannot control his voice at all, so you better hope your neighbours are forgiving, because Amajiki shouts some filthy things when he feels really good.
4.     Asmo – No one is surprised that he is completely and overwhelmingly horny for his entire heat. Most omegas have down moments for resting and hydrating while their heat isn’t so bad. Not Asmo. His heat lasts for three days (a maximum amount) and is intense for all of it. You have to make him to eat and drink something while he begs and writhes on your lap for you to fuck him.
5.     Kiba – Has a very high sex drive in general, even when he’s not in heat, so it’s no surprise that he’s basically insatiable when he’s in heat. He jumps his alpha five times a day when he’s in preheat, and every hour when he’s in heat. If you can’t provide for him as often as he needs, he will absolutely buy a knotted dildo and use it while he’s on top of you. Most of the time that convinces his alpha to help him get off.
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mldrgrl · 3 years
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Broken Things 23/24
by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall (THIS CHAPTER RATED R) See Chapter 1 for summary and notes
“Go on,” Melvin says to Mulder.  “Take care of your wife.  I’ve got the horses.”
Mulder holds Katherine close and takes her out of the stables.  She’s weeping, hiding her face in his neck and clutching at his shirt.  He can feel her tears against his skin and her trembling against his chest.  Her choked little cries are tearing him apart.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs to her, over and over again.  “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”
He brings her into the washroom and kicks the laundry washtub over so he can set her down on something.  He’s able to keep an arm around her as he lights the furnace and then shifts her from one side to the other so he can work the pump and fill the bathing tub.  He finds a bottle of bathing oil in the cabinet and pours a bit in.  The room suddenly smells of roses.  
“We’re gonna get you warm,” he tells her.  “And clean.”
“I’ll never be clean,” she whispers, and drops her head into her hands and cries harder.
“Yes, you will.”
When the bathing tub is full and the water is warm enough, he undoes the knot holding Katherine’s robe closed and pushes the ruined garment off her shoulders.  Her nightgown has a few stains on it and can probably be salvaged, but he’ll throw them both out anyway.  He’ll buy her a dozen new nightgowns and robes, ones that aren’t soiled or hold any terrible memories in them.
“My hair will get wet,” she says to him, when he tries to get her into the bathing tub.  He runs to their room and gets the box of hairpins for her.  He takes a cloth and wipes her hands clean and then she winds her braid up high on her head and even with no looking glass and shaking fingers, manages to pin it into place and off her neck.
“Okay?” he asks.
Katherine nods and then takes the hand that Mulder offers and climbs into the bathing tub.  She folds up almost immediately with her legs bent and her back hunched and her head resting on her knees.  Mulder takes up the rag, soaks it in the bathwater and then washes her back.
“I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me,” Katherine murmurs, her voice slightly muffled by her legs.
“I think the world of you,” he answers.  “That will never change.”
She turns her face towards him and rests her cheek on her knees.  He just keeps washing her back and shoulders, rubbing soft circles into her skin with the cloth.  She blinks slowly at him and in her eyes he can see the pain and exhaustion of a heavy burden she’s been carrying.
“I’ve loved you from the day I met you,” he says.  “And loved you even more every day since.  Whatever it is, Kate, I promise you without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll still love you even more tomorrow.”
She breathes deep, ribs contracting under his hand, and then exhales swiftly.  “My father is a Navy captain,” she says.  “He’s highly respected and very strict.  And my mother is very pious.  They’re both very set in their ways.  The only person I fear more than my father, or my mother, is God.”
“Mmhm.”
“I have an older brother named Bill.  Bill Jr.  And I have two younger sisters, Melissa and Charlotte.  I was very close with Melissa.  I miss her terribly.”
“Did something happen to them?”
“No.”  She blinks without really closing her eyes and her head sways slightly.  “My father didn’t believe much in education for girls, I think I’ve told you as much, but I begged him to stay in school.  He told me I could stay until I turned sixteen and then I would have to prepare to be married.  I agreed, even though I wanted so badly to be a doctor that I secretly applied to medical colleges, hoping that if one said yes, he would have to let me go.  Well, there was one college that accepted me, but my father still wouldn’t let me go.”
“You were accepted to medical college?”
Katherine nods and sniffles quietly.  “I told him that if he refused to let me go, then I would refuse to marry any man he tried to match me with.  He said that it was my duty to marry well and that if I refused to do so, he’d put me out on the street.  I said I would go happily if it meant I would no longer be under his tyrannical thumb.  It’s the only time I’ve ever defied my father and I did think then he would turn me out, but  instead he struck a compromise with me and said I was allowed to go to a nurse’s training school that was nearby, but that once I’d complete the training, I should have to find a husband.”
Katherine turns her face back into her knees and sighs heavily.  Mulder drops the cloth into the bathing tub and massages the back of her neck.  He waits for her to continue, wanting her to alleviate herself of this load, but not wanting to push her too far.  The balance between encouragement and pressure is delicate.
“There was a doctor there,” she says.  “Doctor Waterston.  Everyone revered him, including me.  Listening to him lecture, you knew right away he was brilliant.  When I had my placement interview, I told him that I hoped to be a doctor one day and he seemed to take an interest in helping me.  He allowed me to attend his surgeries and even permitted me to perform a few minor ones of my own, instructing me every step of the way.”
“You’ve performed surgeries?”
She turns to look at him again and nods a little.  “I’ve removed a bullet from a shoulder and closed the wound and amputated a foot.”
“Incredible.”
Katherine swallows and her body weaves slightly as she closes her eyes.  “Doctor Waterston invited me to dinner one night and told me he’d just received a new medical text that he thought I’d be interested in and took me to his personal office to look at it.  He told me he saw a lot of potential in me and knew I could be as brilliant of a doctor as he was, one day.”
A feeling of dread creeps up Mulder’s spine.  There is something about the monotone change in Katherine’s voice leads him to expect something sinister to come up.
“He…”  Her voice hitches slightly and pinches off.
“You don’t have to say it, Kate, if you can’t.”
“I need to.”  She shakes her head and takes a deep breath.  “He offered me a glass of brandy, which I did not accept, and then he offered me a glass of water and...and he sat beside me on the sofa as I tried to review the text.  I remember thinking that I felt a bit uncomfortable because he was sitting so close. And then...and then I couldn’t focus and I felt very tired and my limbs felt paralyzed.  I told him that I felt strange and he said it was nothing to worry about.  But...then he was holding me down and I did not know why and I told him he was hurting me and he got very angry and told me to stop talking and he put his hand over my mouth.  I remember that there was some kind of stain on the ceiling and I stared at it.  I don’t know how long I stared at it.”
Mulder feels like he’s going to vomit.  He breathes in and out through his nose and rubs Katherine’s back, but he thinks he might be coming out of his skin.  He would like to find this Doctor Waterston and rip him apart with his bare hands.
“I don’t remember getting home,” she says.  “I remember waking the next morning and feeling ill and...and very sore between my legs.  After that night, he behaved as though I was a stranger.  He didn’t call on me in class, didn’t offer to allow me to observe any surgeries, and didn’t seem to acknowledge I existed at all.  I didn’t know what I’d done wrong and I was sick over it.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I must have let him believe he could touch me.”
“No, you didn’t.  You thought he was being kind and he took advantage of you.”
“My father had told me that no good would come of me going to school and he was right.  God has been punishing for my ambition.”
“I don’t believe that.  I don’t believe that at all.”
“I was so sick about the whole thing that I went to see a specialist about the constant nausea and body aches I was experiencing.  He told me I was with child and I told him I didn’t know how that was possible because I wasn’t married.  He must have thought I was so ignorant.  I was ignorant, though.  I’d...I’d read about pregnancy and childbirth in my medical texts, but nothing told me how it happened.  My mother told me only married women could have babies.  I know now how ill-informed I was.”
Katherine pauses there and then lifts her head.  She tilts her face up and Mulder can see the slow tears that run down her cheeks and drip from her chin.  He wipes them away, but they keep coming.
“I tried to tell Doctor Waterston about my condition, but he told me would publicly accuse me of blackmail and have me expelled from the program.  He said that no one would believe me if I said the baby was his and that the word of a respected doctor meant more than that of a fallen woman.  And then he gave me a five dollar note and the name of another doctor that he said would get rid of the problem.”
“Oh, Kate.”
“I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  That would be a sin.”  She shakes her head.  “I left school.  I told my mother what had happened and she was very upset with me.  She didn’t know how I could do such a vile and wicked thing and bring such shame to the family.  She didn’t know where she went wrong to raise such a common whore of a daughter and said the devil had to have taken hold of me and the best I could do now was repent for my sins and pray that He would forgive me.”
“You did not do anything wrong,” Mulder says, emphatically.  “I am sorry that your mother said those things to you, but you have to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
Mulder does not know how to soothe her.  He was not raised religious and until now has held no real opinions on the church, but his blood is boiling.  He will forever hold malice in his heart for the ideology that would make the most wonderful woman he’s ever met feel so worthless and wicked.
“Believe me,” he says.  “Trust in me when I tell you that you are not sinful.”
Katherine sighs.  She sniffles and wipes a wet hand down her face.  “Then why was I punished so harshly?” she whispers.
His mouth goes dry and his heart feels like it drops into his gut.  Her sorrow pains him.  He remembers once that he happened upon his aunt in her study while she was reviewing correspondences and she seemed very angry over a letter she had received.  When he asked her what was wrong, she told him that women were always suffering for the whims of men.  And then she’d stared at him hard and told him to never, ever trifle with a lady unless he intended to be a husband or a father.  He was eight years old at the time, but he’d never forgotten it.  And he vowed then and there to never, ever have a whim, whatever that might be.
He looks at his wife and he knows she has suffered, more than he even first suspected.  He wishes he’d known her sooner.  Wishes he could have had occasion to bump into her one day before anything bad had happened to her.  Because he knows deep in his heart that he would have known right then and there that he would marry her, just as he knew a few months ago.  At the very least, maybe if he’d gotten to her first, she would not have married Jack Willis.  But, how did that happen?
“How did you come to marry Jack Willis?” he asks.
“My father knew of him and knew he had some sort of trouble with a debt.  He offered to pay the debt if he would marry me.  Jack agreed, but I don’t think that either of us knew that even though I now had a husband, my parents told me I had to leave and never to come back.  They said I was a bad influence over my sisters.  They said I could ruin their chances for a good marriage.  They thought that if anyone were to ever find out the truth about the baby...”
Katherine trails off and then turns her face up again.  Tears leak so constantly down her cheeks he’s afraid she may never stop crying, but she’s silent and her gaze becomes utterly vacant.
“Kate, what...what happened to the baby?”
“Jack had people in Kentucky and so he took me there.  A lot of that time is...I have a hard time remembering some of it.”  Katherine wrinkles her forehead and closes her eyes.  She touches her face with her fingertips like her head is aching.  “They weren’t very kind to me, or to Jack.  An Aunt or a cousin of his said she was a midwife and said she’d see to me when the time came.  It wasn’t that long before I started having pains one night and bleeding, but I had barely let out my skirts by then and I knew it was much too soon.  To answer your question, I don’t know what happened to the baby.  They wouldn’t let me see it.  I’d lost a lot of blood and was too weak to protest.  Jack said it was just as well since he didn’t want to raise a bastard anyhow.”
“That sonofabitch,” Mulder mutters, before he can stop himself.  He grits his teeth in anger.  Jack Willis is lucky he’s already dead.
“There were three more babies that came and went after that.  I think they must have known what kind of world they might be coming into and it was a blessing that they decided not to stay.  I wanted each one of them, I truly did, but I didn’t know how I would protect them when I couldn’t even protect myself.”
Kate breathes out a huge sigh after that and drops her head to her knees once more.  Her shoulders start to shake and Mulder feels his throat constrict and his eyes burn with his own tears.  He cries with her and for her, resting his head against the back of her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her.
She’s never felt so exhausted in all her life.  She wants to lay down, curl up, and sleep for days.  Her eyes burn with four years worth of tears.  She’s cried herself dizzy and it takes her some time to realize that Mulder is crying as well.  She reaches up to run her fingers through his hair.  He turns his face and kisses her shoulder.
“I’ll understand if you want me to go,” she says.
“Not a chance in hell, honey.”  He lifts his head and cups her cheek.  “I knew you were strong, I knew you were brave, I just didn’t know how strong and how brave.”
“I don’t feel very strong.  Or brave.”
“You are.”
“I’m so tired.”
“Come on.  Let’s get you to bed.”
Mulder helps her out of the bathing tub and wraps her in a towel.  He lifts her easily and carries her to bed.  He gets her into fresh nightclothes and undresses down to his drawers and then climbs into bed with her and pulls her tight into his arms.  They’re face to face, nearly nose to nose.
“I am terribly sorry that I lied to you,” she says.
“You never lied, you just needed time.”
“I was just so afraid that...I didn’t want you to know how low I really was.”
“It never would have mattered to me.  It doesn’t matter to me now.”
“I believe that you mean that.”
“I do.”  He shifts and holds her cheek, stroking her brow with his thumb.  “There’s something that I should tell you too.  Something about my family as well.”
“Alright.”
“Are you familiar with Fawkes Publishing House?”
“I think so.  Maybe.”
“Do you know the writer, E. M. Abbott?”
“Of course.  I read all his books.  They call him the Charles Dickens of the Americas.”
“Mm.”  Mulder chuckles.  “E. M. Abbott is my aunt.”
“Your aunt?”  Katherine pulls back a bit from Mulder and opens her mouth, aghast.  “E. M. Abbott is your aunt?  The aunt that raised you?”
“Yes, great aunt Emeline.  My grandmother and Auntie were the daughters of William Fawkes, who started Fawkes Publishing House.  When my aunt began writing at a young age, her father told her no one would buy books written by women, but he still thought she was extraordinarily talented and of course he wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity.  He told her he would publish her works under a pseudonym.  Everyone called her Em since she was a young girl and she liked Abbott because it was the first name she could think of that came first, alphabetically.  And so Emeline Beatrice Fawkes became E. M. Abbott.”
“That’s extraordinary.”
“And a well-guarded secret in publishing.”
“How sad though, that she could never get the recognition she deserved.”
“Oh, Auntie actually enjoyed that she’d so thoroughly pulled the wool over the literary community’s eyes.  She took great delight in reviews that particularly focused on her unique perspective that was like ‘no other man.’  I would tend to get angry on her behalf though.  I found it very unfair, very unjust.”
“It is.”
Mulder nods.  “I have done my best to try to change things though.  Fawkes Publishing puts out more novels by women than any other major house out there.”
“What?”  Katherine raises her brow slightly.  “When you said that sometimes you conduct business in Boston, what did you mean by that?”
“I sit on a board representing the family’s remaining interests in the company.  We don’t necessarily handle any of the day-to-day anymore, but we own a significant share, which gives us, or me, rather, a fair amount of control.  Let me tell you, publishing women writers has proved to be profitable over the years.  Extremely profitable, actually.”
She ducks her head a little and snorts softly.  “I was a little worried at how freely you spent your money.”
“I can assure you that money is not something you’ll ever have to worry about.”
“I think you could have absolutely nothing and I would still love you.”
Mulder lifts his head from the pillow and leans up on his elbow.  “You love me?” he asks.
“I do.”
He smiles and then lays back down and pulls her against him with a sigh.  She tucks her head down under his chin and wraps her arm around his back.  A strip of moonlight shimmers on his arm and she gazes at it with heavy eyelids.  She must be very tired or her imagination is playing tricks on her, but his skin seems to radiate a brilliant blue hue mixed with a bit of red.
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itsclydebitches · 3 years
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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Fault”
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Hello, everyone! We’re not even bothering with an introduction today, let’s just get straight to the only thing that matters.
HERE HE IS, THE MVP OF THIS EPISODE, OF THE WHOLE VOLUME, THE SERIES, THE ONLY ONE I CARE ABOUT RIGHT NOW
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I’m joking… but only a little. In all seriousness we will get to Ren, but you all want to hear a funny story first? I somehow got it into my head that there was no RWBY episode this week—the holiday and all—so I poured all my meta time and energy into a ridiculous Ironwood analysis as a placeholder, only to wake up this morning and find the strongest (and most complicated!) episode this year waiting for a recap. Like some sort of grimm nosing into my inbox. 
Okay, so it’s not a funny story, but if RT would just do a better job with their website my life would be a whole lot easier.
So here we are, taking a look at the episode “Fault.” Quick question, is every episode this volume going to have a one-word title? It’s not a criticism, I’ve got nothing against a punchy name, I’m just curious since RWBY has never done that before. If anything, they’ve gone more for symbolically significant phrases like “A Brawl in the Family,” “Players and Pieces,” and “The Lady in the Shoe.” I wonder what sparked the change.
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Anyway, we open on Robyn laughing about some story she’s told, something about Joanna losing a fair fight for the first time, presumably to her. This is what we’ve learned about Robyn since this volume started: she refuses to acknowledge that she had a hand in Clover’s death; she was asked by Blake and Yang to keep the Amity secret but, according to May, couldn’t keep her mouth shut about it; and she tries to cheer Qrow up by bragging about her own skill.
Alrighty then.
Obviously, this little story fails to land. “Tough crowd tonight.” Robyn looks to Jacques as well as Qrow when she says this and since she clearly doesn’t care about cheering him up, she must want to get a rise out of him. Create something, as she says at the end of the scene, that’s exciting. Robyn just really loves to start fights. Against Ironwood, Clover, bickering matches with Jacques—stories told about winning them! If she’s not fighting someone she’s not interested.
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Qrow does eventually give the smallest smile though and Robyn cheers. “Did I win?” They both quickly grow serious again though and Robyn says she’s “sorry for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.” Her apology would mean more if she was apologizing for her actions, not providing a generic ‘Sorry for your loss’ like she had no hand in this.
Qrow then insists it was his fault… but, of course, not for the reasons why he’s actually responsible (also, didn’t we do this two weeks ago?). For starters, Qrow blames his semblance for everything that went down, despite the fact that his semblance is not responsible for him breaking Clover’s aura, or Tyrian stabbing him. The most we’ve seen his semblance do is cause minor mischief, which in and of itself is absurd considering we’re meant to believe that it has kept him from his family most of his life, and informs choices like whether he’ll travel with the group in Volume 4. Still, it’s not unexpected that he would blame his semblance and think that having friends is a “childish dream”—depression is one hell of a liar—but rather, it’s frustrating that no one is helping Qrow see the truth of the situation, both the good and the bad. He certainly doesn’t need Robyn providing generic platitudes that absolve them both of their choices.
You know what the worst part is? The two kind, level-headed adults with enough distance to help Qrow acknowledge his mistakes while also correcting him about his misconceptions… are Ozpin and Clover. The former is still ignored by the cast, the latter barely got to be a character before he was killed.  
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Qrow goes on to say that he “made a deal with the darkness and [Clover] paid the price.” I’m sorry, what does that mean?? Outside of referencing his team-up with Tyrian, that’s the most dramatic, nonsensical thing he could have said. Qrow doesn’t admit to the team-up though, rather he starts blaming Clover for his own death.
Precisely like a good chunk of the fandom has done 🙃
He says that Clover just “wouldn’t let up” (translation: he wouldn’t agree to let me go when I was under arrest) and that they could have “worked together against Tyrian if Clover had just—”
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There’s a lot to cover this episode, so I’m not going to dive into another explanation of all the justified reasons why Clover didn’t trust Qrow in that moment and why Qrow was the one who “wouldn’t let up.” If you’re interested in that rundown, head here.
Side note: can RWBY please stop with the weird mouth closeups? I’m begging the animators. Especially when so much else in this episode is gorgeous.
Yes: 
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No: 
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Robyn’s response is to make it all about her. I say, as a hypocrite, because my instinctual response in comforting someone is to also bring up a way that I might, sort of, know what they’re going through. It’s something to work on and, as always, I’d be more receptive to Robyn’s attempts if she weren’t failing so spectacularly in every other aspect of her characterization. Case in point: she says that having a truth semblance tends to make people push her away, but we’ve never once seen that. We’re introduced to Robyn as she’s adored by Fiona. The people celebrate her. Yang and Blake trust her immediately, for no reason, and comment on how useful her semblance is—they’re not concerned with it. Ironwood likewise works with her and allows her to use her semblance on him in public, at least for a time. May spoke fondly of Robyn last episode. She just finished a story about Joanna… where is this pushing away you speak of, Robyn? I really wish RWBY would consider things ahead of time and actually show them to us, rather than just having characters announce that they’re (supposedly) there.
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Nice symbolism though with Robyn touching the electric bars and pulling her hand back. You reach out, you get hurt, curl in on yourself, blah, blah, blah. Too bad it’s not a moment attached to an actual struggle of hers.
Qrow buys it though, saying he’s never thought about it that way before. 
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You know, I get why a lot of people in the fandom hate Clover. I can’t even claim I’m much interested in him as an individual. I’m sick of straight, white, able-bodied men getting the spotlight, which is one of the things that drew me to RWBY in the first place… so theoretically Robyn should be the better choice for Qrow’s BFF, right? Especially in a world where FairGame only existed in RT’s social media queerbaiting. Give us the badass gender-bent Robin Hood instead of the boring military man!
On paper it sounds great… which is why it’s astounding that RT bungled that so badly.  
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Qrow never finishes his thought about Clover because the Ace Ops come in to return Watts to his cell. Interesting. The writing has definitely made Ironwood stupid, but perhaps not as stupid as he could have been? If he got Watts to hack Penny (we don’t yet know what’s going on with her during all this) and then promptly shut him away again, that’s just about the best way you can follow up on your worst decision.
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Harriet spots Clover’s pin and tells Qrow “You don’t get to keep that,” but then doesn’t take it from him. See, that right there is a better motivation for potentially opening the cell. Qrow says he didn’t kill Clover, Harriet shoots back that his blood was on Qrow’s blade (again, focusing on the wrong way that he’s guilty), Robyn challenges her to get the truth via her semblance… and Harriet considers it? Why? She’s not the one struggling with her loyalty here, that’s Marrow, yet he’s the one who has to pull Harriet back with “What are you doing?” when she looks at the keypad. Have Marrow almost be swayed by Robyn’s taunting, or have Harriet almost open the door because she’s furious and desperate to get Clover’s pin back. Either one of those would make more sense than this.
Also, no one checked Qrow during his arrest/before he was thrown into his cell?
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Also, note that Marrow uses a nickname here—“Hare”—so I’m continually unpersuaded by the ‘They’re not friends’ claim. Yes, Harriet hits his shoulder on her way out… and Ren will later scream at Jaune about cheating. Harriet being in a bad mood because their leader was just murdered isn’t evidence that they’re not close, no more than Ren responding to Everything Traumatic Ever is evidence that he doesn’t care for his friends.
Also (x3), Robyn calls Harriet “mohawk”?? Can’t this woman come up with a single good insult?
As the Ace Ops leave Robyn lays back down on her bunk, exactly as she was before, and says, “Well, that was almost exciting.” Kind of like this scene! Luckily, the episode is about to get a whole lot better.
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The music immediately picks up as we segue to Ren, Jaune, and Yang chasing after Oscar. On the whole I really enjoyed this scene, largely because it shows the group doing their best—in a way that feels persuasive. I’ll admit that others have a point about them just standing around while the Hound changes form—yet still failing because, you know, our villain is actually powerful! However, there are, as always, some nitpicks.
One of the first bits of dialogue we get is Ren noticing that the bikes can’t stand being in the cold for very long. It bugs me that bikes suffer more from the cold than the civilians do. To say nothing of the fact that it once again doesn’t amount to anything. Their bikes carry them through the whole battle and Jaune looses his because of a grimm. Then Yang manages to fix the totaled bike with a single part, despite the continued cold. Why bother introducing this as a problem when it’s meaningless each and every time?
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The three do demonstrate some great teamwork though. When Yang yells that she wishes one of them could fly, Jaune uses his shield to launch Ren at the Hound… so that he can get dragged through the air, hitting rocks. This poor guy. I like that though because no, these teens shouldn’t be perfect, strategic masterminds and yes, they’re in the kind of situation where they just have to try something and see if it works. Jaune can’t think ahead to what Ren will do once he grabs the Hound, they just have to get him to that point and go from there. Which they do. Ren snags a boulder to slow them down further (that’s smart) and Yang goes higher to fire at the Hound’s face (don’t hit Oscar he doesn’t have aura!!). They’re at a crazy disadvantage here and still trying their best to get our boy back.
The overall tone is… fine? Again, love supportive Yang—that high five with Jaune was wholesome—but it continually feels weird to get that when Oscar is in the literal jaws of death here. On the whole though the scene keeps to the action and seriousness of the situation, which I appreciate. We’ll talk more about tone during the outpost scene.
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It's looking like they might be making some sort of headway when the Hound lets out a roar that, as Yang puts it, calls for backup. 1. Yay giving this grimm even more power to mess with the cast, 2. Holy shit there are so many grimm around. See, scenes like this is why I’m side-eyeing the anti-army rhetoric in the show (a stance I’d otherwise agree with 100%). Because do you see how many there are? That’s not Salem’s army, that’s just the normal grimm hanging out around Atlas. The cast is screwed if anyone were to, say, order them to attack the kingdom…
Kudos to RT for bringing back the centipede grimm though. I honestly thought they’d just be a one-off action sequence in Volume 7.
While everything is falling apart Ren catches a glimpse of Oscar, complete with rosy cheeks to make him look super young, and the sight fills him with 
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He starts climbing towards the Hound and we cut away. 
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Meanwhile, Jaune’s bike is hit with some of the centinel’s acid (again, not the cold causing problems) and he takes a tumble, managing to keep his feet before Yang snags him. Moments like that really do show how far he’s come and I’m glad we got to see such a moment in an episode where his cheating was brought up. Jaune then uses his shield to fly over one of the dragon-y grim, but... wait. The shield is flexible?
Literally what is the point of that? As a shield, I mean (it clearly works fine as  a ramp). If you can just tip it over like that then so can the grimm or another fighter. Forget how tiny the shield is, all a monster would have to do is boop it and it would fall over. In fact, it probably should have with the grimm scratching at it before. Seems rather useless, unless you’ve got writers crafting convenient situations. Also, does Jaune have multiples of this thing? He picked it up before, but there’s no way he found that one again. Idk, I’m really not feeling this addition to Jaune’s arsenal. Better to give him a range option so he’s more versatile.
Still, they fly over the grimm and the two let out a sigh in synch. Whatever else we might have to say about this volume, RT is definitely giving us different interactions and team-ups. Well done there. Why, Jaune and Yang have managed to survive all that together!
Oh wait, never mind. They’ve gone off a cliff.
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Honestly, I’m shocked they actually went over. I thought Yang would stop in time, or we’d have a classic moment of them tumbling off the bike and ending an inch from the edge, maybe going off slow with time for one to hang on. But nope, they plummet and it was done with such confidence by the camera that for a split second (the illogic of killing them both off aside) I thought that was it. They’re done for. Lucky for them, Ren catches them at the last second, managing to snag Jaune’s sword and them and immediately use his semblance so the grimm doesn’t eat them. That’s skill, baby!!
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But you can see why he’s pissed, beyond just the fact that his semblance is holding this group together. It’s not Jaune and Yang’s fault that there was suddenly a cliff, but last we saw Ren he was heading towards Oscar. He had a plan. Granted, not one that was likely to lead anywhere given the Hound’s power (and the plot needing Oscar to reach Salem), but that’s not the point. He was pulling himself towards their kidnapped friend and then at the last second had to cut himself loose to save two others. This moment wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it would take someone with no emotions at all not to be frustrated by it. 
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So we leave the trio literally hanging out and return to Ruby’s group who is threatening kids! 
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Seriously though WTF, Weiss? Look, I haven’t always been kind to Whitley. In fact, I think there’s a Volume 7 recap where I really laid into him for his attitude and for supporting Jacques. But then—with the help of some friends and other anon perspectives—I thought about it for a hot second and considered how little power this child has. I was wrong to blame him for so much given the various circumstances here. It took, like… five minutes of thinking, and that’s for a fictional character, not a real life brother. Weiss clearly hasn’t given her brother five seconds of thought. He’s in the same abusive household that she was. He wasn’t blessed with combat abilities and a semblance to easily escape. He didn’t have Weiss there to guide him like Winter guided her. He had to watch BOTH his sisters abandon him to Jacques… so when exactly was he supposed to learn to be better? Why would he be inclined to? Weiss was an entitled racist when she got to school and needed new friends to show her a new path. She admitted as much last volume! Yet the fact that Whitley is completely alone in this house while their mom locks herself in her room to drink doesn’t register at all? This woman, an adult out to save the world as we’re frequently told, never once considered what it took to get her here and realize that Whitley has had none of the resources she did? 
I want to emphasize that Weiss threatens him with her weapon. It’s not just that she’s dismissive of him and his plight, she’s also happy to use violence if Whitley doesn’t do exactly as he’s told. Violence… against her brother… who is a child… without any training. Again: WTF, Weiss? You know how I was praising RWBY last episode for not having the group beat up the Atlas personnel? Yeah, we get this instead.
Then she tells him to go to his room??
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Speculation is that Whitley is about 2-3 years younger than Weiss. Or, to put it another way, roughly the same age as Weiss’ leader, Ruby. She’ll follow Ruby unquestioningly into world-changing decisions, but sends her brother to his room like a toddler? Which is it, RWBY? Are 17 year-olds leaders you should listen to, or babies who must leave the room while the grownups talk? He certainly can’t be any younger than Oscar, so again, she’ll fight beside him, but treat Whitley like this? Whitley isn’t exactly going to offer help in a respectful, eager manner, but that “Fine. What do you expect me to do?” was incredibly open given his situation. He was willing to help and that was the perfect opportunity to have him, you know, do something. Something small and innocuous that wouldn’t threaten the team if he betrayed them, but kept him around so he could talk to someone. But nope. Weiss just sends him to his room after criticizing him for not understanding that they’re “busy trying to save Atlas.” Weiss, what does Whitley know about all that? He’s locked up in this manor after your father was arrested and the one news clip we’ve seen said that no one knows why Ironwood recalled his forces, or what’s up with those grimm overhead. She’s acting like he should have any idea what’s happening right now.
Also, all of this is coming on the heels of Willow begging Weiss not to forget her brother, so that’s just great. RWBY has the rest of their time in the manor to fix this, because if Weiss comes out of that scene having only been handed the means of arresting Jacques… that’s just bad all around.
Finally, should we talk about how strange this choice is? Last episode we saw the group flying away and I assumed it was them leaving Atlas to go back to Mantle. It certainly looked that way, but now they’ve decided to stay until Nora is awake. Why? Isn’t it more dangerous here? I mean, they didn’t know the staff was gone and there are still arrest warrants out. Was Weiss just going to threaten anyone who dared report her? Where are these shields Ironwood spoke of? Have they gotten through them somehow, or are they currently trapped in Atlas?
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This is “Oscar is in the slums, leaves the slums, learns they’re going to the crater, but the slums are actually the crater, so we’re heading back now” all over again. 
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The one good thing about this scene is that Blake and Ruby talk! …for about two seconds lol. Eh, better than nothing. Blake says that if Ruby is worried about Yang she could try calling her. Ruby has, and Yang isn’t picking up.
Does Ruby think she’s in danger or ignoring her? Unclear. We, however, know that Yang is now lost in the middle of nowhere with no reception and no transportation back to Mantle. The three of them start trudging towards an outpost Ren spotted, needing to find shelter “before this weather drops our aura levels completely.” So what about everyone without aura?? I wish that I could check off the bingo space again because this is ridiculous.
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Ren, once again, isn’t in the mood to talk, but unlike Jaune, Yang can’t leave something alone. So she coaxes him to tell him what’s wrong and you know what? She does a real good job at first. She’s encouraging, but her voice is level and she doesn’t come across as accusing. Well done, Yang.
Things quickly fall apart though as Ren says EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED TO SAY TO THIS GROUP. Holy shit, everyone, let’s count ‘em up:
Nothing is going smoothly so let’s stop pretending it’s all fine
Oscar has been horrifically kidnapped that’s #bad
This is not a normal part of being a huntsmen
We don’t know the first thing about being huntsmen!
Every time we’ve had to make real decisions we got them all wrong, yay us
We’re trapping a city here for Salem to destroy whenever she feels like it, yay us x2
Our leader is barely more than a kid and one of us cheated our way here
People are going to die because of us
“I’m just saying what nobody else wants to”
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Yang’s response? Incredibly weak imo. Just as weak as the fandom’s has been since this conflict started in Volume 7. Her argument against letting Atlas go is that Salem won’t just let it fly away with her whale… but no one knows that. She’s certainly just letting it sit right now! Assuming that something won’t work because you expect the worst is not a compelling reason not to try.
Her argument against their ineptitude? They saved Haven, took down a leviathan, and got the lamp to Atlas. Let’s break that down a little more.
Did they fight well at Haven? Yes… overlooking that Weiss would have died if not for a timely semblance reveal. But the real point here is that they “saved” the school by getting the Relic. Problem is, they never won the relic, it was handed to them. Literally. They retrieved it not because they were capable of overpowering Salem’s forces and a Maiden, but because Raven decided she’d rather her daughter be a target than her. That doesn’t tell us anything about the group’s skill, only about Raven’s flaws.
They took down a leviathan… after drawing it to Argus in the first place. That’s kind of an important detail when Ren is trying to make the point that their decisions suck. Also, how did they take it down? Using Ruby’s silver eyes, which only worked because Jinn randomly decided to let her stop time. Oh, and also using the rest of Cordovin’s mech that they hadn’t yet destroyed. Again, nothing about that fight demonstrates their skill, only others’ abilities, resources, and the strange favoritism they benefit from.
Getting the lamp to Atlas. Well, you drove Ozpin away who was your ticket across the border. Then Maria told Ruby how to save you all from the Apathy (and Ruby herself was the only one able to resist long enough to demand you get the Relic back in the first place). You started that leviathan fight and ended it surrounded by Cordovin’s fleet. So how did you get to Atlas? Because she let you cross. How did you reach Ironwood? Because he dropped your arrest. Yang stopped Adam, yes, but that was its own, separate fight. Regarding the “getting to Atlas” point they botched that up completely. 
Basically, this resume of victories is unpersuasive, to say the least. Yang highlights the end goal rather than acknowledging Ren’s point: have we, as individuals, actually made things better lately?
They absolutely have not. 
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Note how, in contrast, Ren includes himself in this criticism. He doesn’t just lay responsibility at Ruby and Jaune’s feet, he’s second on the list for being underprepared. For messing up. He’s just an “orphan from nowhere” and this tells us that, unlike Qrow, Ren is actually concerned with this problem and his own place in it. He’s not just blowing off steam and running from his responsibility. Rather, he’s making important points here yet, as he says, no one else wants to listen.
And that’s why the scene ultimately sucks. “But, Clyde! It’s a speech straight out of your metas!” Yes it was and it was beautiful to witness, but the problem is that Ren’s supposed to be wrong. Jaune glares at him before leaving. Yang clenches her fists and asks if he just wants to push everyone away. He’s left hanging his head. Then later they talk about how “broody” he is and provide advice about how to stop doing that. The takeaway here is not, ‘Holy shit, Ren is right and we should rethink our choices,’ but rather that Ren is wrong and needs to come over to their ‘correct’ perspective.
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I love that this was laid out. I love that the group is actually fighting for once (way better than Ruby and Yang’s ‘fight’). I also love that we finally see what’s bothering Ren… but we all know this isn’t leading anywhere. The scene ends with Jaune dismissing everything by stating that if Ren doesn’t want to be a huntsmen, fine, but he has a job to do. Ren is supposed to feel guilty here for… telling the truth? Jaune is supposed to look like the hero for soldiering on with his responsibility while moody Ren drags behind. The scene is great, but the purpose of the scene sucks.
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Actually, I’d like to talk about a portion of the outpost scene real quick. Skipping ahead, because we really see here how little RT believes the words that they’ve put in Ren’s mouth. Jaune admits that he’s right about cheating into Beacon… but nothing else. Indeed, that “mistake” is swept away because he’s earned his right to be here now. You shouldn’t care about that anymore! Ignoring the point Ren was making about how much they’re in over their heads. Yang apologizes to Jaune on Ren’s behalf, making it clear that she cares more about his potentially hurt feelings than any of the points Ren made. Remind you of anything? Like oh, say, that time Yang cared more about Jaune’s feelings than whether he’d hurt Oscar after slamming him against a wall? All of this despite the fact that Yang JUST accused Ruby of the horrible situation they’re in. Now Ren acknowledges that they’re in a horrible situation and Yang… doesn’t care?? Again, RT is good at giving us the pieces we want, the surface level stuff, but is rarely able to combine it into something fulfilling. If anyone actually takes Ren’s stance seriously, changing their ways rather than talking him out of it, I’ll be shocked.
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Especially since the real nail in the coffin of this scene is Jaune telling him that “The more you hide from what you’re feeling, the more alone you’re going to feel.”
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Jaune………..buddy……….pal…………were you asleep during that scene? Ren DID tell you what he was feeling. For the first time he did come clean about everything he was experiencing and you both rejected him for it! He’s not pulling away because he’s hiding from what he’s feeling, he’s pulling away because he did show it and both his friends reduced it to “pushing [them] away.” Which is it, Jaune? Should Ren be more open, or should he stop saying things you don’t want to hear? It’s a more complicated version of telling your parents about your interests, them mocking those interests, and then they’re surprised when you don’t share things with them again. I mean, the gall of Jaune to reject everything Ren said in the moment, ignore it after he’s calmed down, and then lecture him about being hiding his emotions.
Jaune and Yang (and the story) don’t want Ren to say what he really thinks, they want him to say what they think. Ren should speak up, but only if he’s going to agree with them.
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So Ren sits out in the snow because potentially dying from cold is better than staying in a room with Yang and Jaune. I can’t really blame him lol.
One last thing about the fight scene. Remember how May was put in her place last episode for not using Penny’s name? Well, Yang doesn’t either. Granted, “the Maiden” isn’t as overtly insulting as “tin can” (or whatever it is May said), but it amounts to the same thing: both are replacing Penny’s individual identity with her status as a tool they can use. May sees Penny as the cool tech girl who can get them into the military base. Yang sees Penny as the cool magic girl who is the answer to all their ‘How do we win this?’ problems. Everyone is using Penny. Ruby to launch Amity, Ironwood to open the vault, but you know RWBY will never have a scene where Penny corrects Yang about her name and Ruby looks on, smug. Because the group can continually make the same mistakes as the adults/antagonists around them, but aren’t called out on it in the same way. Ren calls them out and he’s told he’s wrong. 
Anyway, the tl;dr of this scene is that Ren is the best. Too bad the story doesn’t realize that.
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We then move to my poor Oscar who wakes up looking at his own feet, Ozpin’s voice is as reassuring as it can be under the circumstances. “Oscar? Don’t panic. We’re going to be okay.” I mentioned two weeks back that I hoped the show would explain why we didn’t see Ozpin try to take control during the Hound fight and we still don’t have an explanation, so that’s disappointing. This line is all we get from Ozpin because that’s the norm now. We moved from him being written out of the story entirely to having one or two lines an episode (excluding a speech meant more for the audience than the characters). So, improvement? But a lackluster one, I think. Especially given that he is the focal point of this entire situation with Salem. 
I’m avoiding the elephant in the room though. Oscar’s torture is horrifying. In the sense that it should be horrifying. Salem might still inexplicably not be attacking Atlas—and what she’s after at any given time might be getting more and more muddled—but she’s absolutely terrifying here, which is what we needed. The mix of assault with that nurturing tone is just skin crawling. “My long lost Ozma. Found at last” while she (I think?) shows images of their daughters. Honestly, I only heard that from friends, didn’t catch it myself, but then my eyes are shit to begin with. I couldn’t see a thing in this shadowed shot.
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(It’s like watching Game of Thrones all over again.)
Oscar tries to pretend to be Ozpin and he does a damn good job with “I’m sorry the reunion isn’t living up to your expectations.” It’s not enough to fool Salem though. She says he’s “not him” yet and I’m again reminded that the show continually references this merge without showing us any change. They’re apparently closer to one person now, but they still speak as individuals. Oscar has Ozpin’s magic, but hasn’t used it, even when his life was on the line. The closest we get to evidence that the merge is underway is that Oscar attempts to lie about knowing Jinn’s name… but what the hell else is he supposed to do here? I suppose he could go the action hero route and shout that she’ll never get the answer out of him, but trying to lie is by far the safer option. That doesn’t tell us that he’s becoming like Ozpin, or even that they’re truly “like-minded souls” as Salem claims. It just tells us that Oscar has two braincells to rub together and can say a short sentence without totally giving himself away. Maybe the kid played a few rounds of Remnant’s Among Us.
This moment highlights another justification for Ozpin’s secrets though. He lives an existence where he is not in control of his own (“own”) body. At any point the host he’s with could falter, fail, turn on him, and in doing so give crucial, world ending information to the enemy. It’s already happened on a small scale, with Oscar successfully taking control, stealing the Jinn information, and giving it to the group. Now here he’s being tortured. How long can he last? Will Oscar give up Jinn’s name? If Ozpin didn’t have the location of the Relic locked up tight in his own consciousness, would that information be lost too? I’m not looking to blame Oscar for anything here—I don’t want to imply that this situation is karma for him taking Jinn’s name, or some such nonsense—I just want to acknowledge that this is the sort of stuff Ozpin has to worry about. If he shares these secrets then that’s more fallible people who are capable of giving that information to Salem. If he keeps them…well, he’s the only one who has to keep his mouth shut during a torture session. His host might want information about the Relics, there’s an argument to be made that they’re entitled to them, but if I were Ozpin I wouldn’t want to take that risk either. The question has essentially become, “Would I trust a 14 year old to keep quiet while tortured by a witch?” Maybe Oscar will! He’s enough of a BAMF to manage it… but that’s still not something I’d want to bet on. Better that Oscar simply doesn’t have that information to give Salem, period. 
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So obviously this “working relationship” that Salem wants isn’t going well. When Oscar lies she jumps straight to torturing him.
This was legitimately hard to watch and I’m torn about that. On the one hand it’s what I wanted: a scary, powerful Salem who uses the tools at her disposal to get what she’s after. That’s great! Yet I’m still reminded of how far this show has gone to literally beat up the child of the group. Oscar is the one punched into a tree, attacked by a friend, shot by an ally, the star of the show’s most horrifying kidnapping, now the first to be outright tortured by Salem. I don’t really have a point here, I’m not looking to level any specific accusations at RT, I’m just commenting on the pattern and acknowledging that it makes me uncomfortable. There are parts of a story where you’re supposed to be uncomfortable—like the villain torturing a hero—and then there are parts where you’re uncomfortable because the writers seem overly focused on showing images of a specific kid suffering and that’s… weird.
I’m not sure what to make of that just yet. 
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Anyway, Salem’s magic here is surprisingly pretty. Pretty and painful, but I expected more red and blacks, perhaps some spikey imagery, so the rainbow was an interesting surprise. Given the amount of pain Oscar is in, I suspect too much of that would kill him, so Salem calls in Hazel to continue the interrogation. The first few hits he deals are for Haven, the others for his sister.
See, this is why RWBY needs to actually embrace its “life isn’t a fairy tale” theme. You cannot show me child torture in one week and then move to Ruby “We’ll win because we’re the good guys ^_^” Rose the next. The whole reason why Ironwood (and Ren now) was right is because this is the shit reality they’re dealing with. You didn’t run when you had the chance and now Oscar (and Ozpin) is being tortured. You keep talking about saving Mantle, but the only reason why they’re not already dead is because the writing randomly turns the cold danger on and off. This mix of horrific, real world danger and unjustified confidence doesn’t work.
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…also, I officially don’t want any redemption arc for Hazel. This guy is beating on a child because he’s convinced that he’s Ozpin, blaming Ozpin for his sister’s decision, all while forwarding a genocidal maniac’s plans. Hazel and his ridiculous shirts can just get on out of here, thanks.
Finally, I just want to say... this is the woman a lot of the fandom defended. This is the woman you wanted raising those girls and blamed Ozpin for trying to escape with them.
This is how Salem treats children.
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Oh, and all of this is without his aura because it just broke. So Oscar is in serious, non-fantasy trouble here. 
Someone please rescue him soon 😭
We finish up with some frankly boring stuff with the rest of the villain cast. We learn that the Hound is an “experiment” and a new one given that Cinder has never seen it before. Salem’s dialogue is admittedly great—“Do you hear that, my pet? She thinks. She wants.”—but Cinder just rehashes everything we’ve heard from her before. She wants the Winter Maiden power. She has trouble remembering that she’s playing at Salem’s slave. She even rehashes the exact same line, “Without you, I am nothing.” Why are we wasting time on this when we had that tantalizing backstory before? 
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Bleh. 
Salem tells her in no uncertain terms to stay put.
So Cinder immediately leaves LOL.
She just wants to “check on” Amity tower because she “knows those kids” in ways Salem doesn’t. I’m admittedly slightly confused as to how Cinder knows to go there? Did she believe Ironwood’s lie that it was finished even though it apparently IS finished now? Has she overheard something? I’m not sure. Frankly, keeping track of that stuff in RWBY is headache inducing, so let’s just roll with it.
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Neo, the only one with a brain around here, makes it clear she thinks Cinder is an idiot for going. Emerald, always the Cinder fan, offers to go in her stead. She’s been working on her semblance, so I expect we’ll see something cool with that soon. They head off, apparently not worried about what Salem will do to them when they get back.
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Which is when we move to the outpost for our final scene, most of which I’ve covered. I only have two more things I want to bring up here.
The first is the tone. As said earlier, the tone of the Hound chase wasn’t horrible, but I find myself disappointed in the overall attitude of Jaune and Yang. Yang is making jokes about how they can’t fly, high-fiving Jaune, and they’re both shrugging off Ren’s concerns. Jaune says he won’t be able to sleep due to worrying about Oscar, but neither of them act particularly worried. Which isn’t to say they need to be sobbing the whole time or whatever, just that Ren is the only one who feels real here. They may not agree with his stance about everything else, but they’ve all experienced the same event: watching a grimm that can morph, talk, and think horrifically kidnap a teammate. Shouldn’t there be more emotion attached to that? Things have gotten better with Oscar than they’ve been in the past, largely due to details like Nora’s hug at the beginning of the volume, but let’s be real, they’re still not perfect. Do we think Jaune and Yang would be this nonchalant if Ruby were kidnapped that way? Say all you want about Ruby being her sister, or others being teammates for longer, but the fact remains that Oscar has been taken to Salem herself and the only one reacting to that in any meaningful way is Ren. 
Who they say will “brood himself to death.” That right there. The one guy freaking out about your kidnapped friend should not be described as “brooding.”
All of which segues into my second point, namely that Yang doesn’t seem to care about Ruby anymore either! She asks Jaune, “Do you think she thinks less of me?” for not going to Amity and when Jaune reassures her that Ruby will always love her, Yang’s response is, “Yeah… Ruby.”
She was thinking about Blake.
The kicker? I thought she was talking about Ruby too. Because Ruby is her sister. Because she and Ruby had the fight (“fight”). Because Ruby was trying to call her to check in. Because Blake and Yang didn’t even acknowledge that they went on different missions here. I thought Blake was like Jaune, not really taking a side and just heading with Ruby because the team is splitting down the middle. Where did this worry come from?
And I want to praise RT here (I really do) because I can see the effort. I said Blake and Yang needed to spend time apart, they have. I said they needed to work through their co-dependent identities, now Blake is reminding Nora (and theoretically herself too) that someone you love is just a part of you. I said that the group couldn’t be a hive-mind, now there’s disagreement. I said the show needs to make Blake/Yang canon at some point and you can’t do that if they don’t talk about and to each other. So I fully admit that this is everything I asked for… so why does it feel so badly done? No matter how many boxes it checks off, it’s still a moment where we thought Yang was finally worrying about her sister again—like she used—and then it’s ‘Sike! It was really just about Blake! Again. Yang is worried about a problem that was never even introduced.’
I suppose that’s why it doesn’t work for me. Yang and Ruby had the falling out, but Yang and Blake, somehow, become the focus. Is it really so hard to write Yang as a sister and a potential love interest? Yang apparently can’t care for Ruby and Blake, Weiss can’t care for her team and her brother, Ruby can’t care for Mantle and Ironwood… it’s like each character gets one (1) thing to put their emotional energy towards at any given time and that’s it. That’s all they get.
On the flip side, this is why Ren feels like a person this episode. He cares about Mantle, and the future fight, and their past mistakes, and his place here, and the problems within the team, and Nora… He feels like a well-rounded person! vs. Yang and Jaune who don’t even consider his perspective, vs. Yang having a fight with her sister but only cares about Blake. They’re one-dimensional in comparison.
It is, as always, disappointing. 
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As the group “broods” then the camera shows us a piece of the ice nearby, slowly cracking as Jaune says that “Things always seem to get worse before they get better.” Well, that’s unexpected. I didn’t think our opening would be literal. I’ve been worried about Atlas falling on everyone, not everyone falling… to whatever is underneath the kingdom as a whole. Is the kingdom falling apart? Or is something waking up and moving towards the surface? If RWBY can reproduce the characterization we got with the Hound, I wouldn’t be opposed to another leviathan grimm rising from the snowy deep to assist Salem…
Though how the fuck group will survive everything and that, who knows lol.
And that’s our episode! Issues aside—most of which have been ongoing issues. We knew they were there—I think this was our strongest episode so far this volume. Well done! There are still problems, no doubt, but at least I was only bored for a small portion of that 20 minutes. Let’s just keep heading in that direction.  
Exciting Saturday, huh?
Regarding bingo updates:
RWBY actually re-used a grimm I thought they’d abandoned, so well done there.
No civilians around for the giant grimm army to attack, so that was fine. Kind of strange though that they completely disappeared after the Hound left.
The timeline is starting to get wonky. For example, what kind of stakes am I supposed to expect when Cinder decides to head to Amity? Is it currently empty? Is Pietro there? Has Penny made it yet? I said weeks ago that RWBY would need to follow multiple groups to fill out fourteen episodes in just two days—and they’re definitely doing that—but that means we don’t have a clear sense of what events are happening simultaneously and what are meant to be linear.
No Winter or Ironwood this episode.
Watts is back with Jacques! Potential for team-up 2.0? That will admittedly be hard with Qrow and Robyn there, unless those two escape.
(Oh yeah, I thought Qrow and the others would be held in the military base and Ruby would find him during her heist… but she doesn’t even care that Qrow is in jail.)
Maria is still a ghost. If we hit the halfway mark with her not doing anything I’m calling the space.
I definitely wouldn’t call this cliffhanger needless. That’s actually a cool way to end things, even if Jaune’s line was pretty on the nose.
Neo may be getting closer to backstabbing Cinder if those expressions are anything to go by. 
Still waiting to see if Amity works.
And finally, drumroll please! …
“More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship.” Yup, I’m marking that this week. After Blake’s ‘just a part of you’ comment and now Yang only being worried about her reaction? Definitely calling it. If RWBY confirms a relationship this volume I’ll eat my words—and some celebratory cake — but until then salt prevails. Especially after the fiasco that was Supernatural.
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Still no bingo. Ah well, maybe next week lol.
Until then! 💜
[Ko-fi]
107 notes · View notes
lunar-wandering · 3 years
Text
Reflection
hi yes, welcome to the Angst Fic about one of my Monkie Kid OC’s-
i figured Aeolian needed an Angsty Backstory to explain the whole Phantom Thief and No Mirrors thing, so I... kinda went ham and made one, no thanks to the encouragement of my friends....
anyways, here we go!
Warning: injury and... i guess you could call it a panic attack? maybe? There’s definitely Something Like That happening here
Word Count: 1.9k
Ringing.
The first thing Aeolian noted was the ringing.
It was the first thing he heard as he came to, slowly sitting up and trying to get a grip of his surroundings.
The second thing he noted was the mirrors.
The walls were covered in mirrors, some small, some large, some ornate, others simple. There was not a single space that did not hold a reflective surface.
He was alone. Alone with just his reflection, coming from all directions.
There was no way in hell he was staying here.
Standing up and looking around, he couldn't see any obvious door. But he had to have been brought in here somehow, which meant there was a way in, which, obviously, meant there had to be a way out. He started feeling the small spaces between the mirrors, searching for any seams or switches that would indicate a hidden door of some sort.
Laughter suddenly burst out from behind him, making him startle, his fur fluffing up in surprise as a chill ran down his spine. The ringing in his ears, which had started to fade away without him noticing, suddenly came back tenfold. A wave of nausea washed over him, causing him to nearly stumble as he whirled around, facing the unknown source of the haunting sound.
Someone...or maybe something, would be more accurate, was slowly coming out of one of the mirrors on the opposite side of the room. Try as he might, Aeolian couldn't find any kind of identifying features. He couldn't tell what it was, and that-
That terrified him.
"Aw, is the cute little monkey trying to escape?" It said, in a voice that made Aeolian want to instinctively curl up and hide. He resisted the urge, standing up taller and trying to hide the fact that he was shaking. He only barely succeeded, his tail still shaking behind him in fear.
"Who are you?" Aeolian asked, trying his best not to let his voice waver. "Why am I here?"
The being chuckled again, in that awful, horrible laugh.
"Hm. Somebody is interested in you." It hissed out, amusement coating it's words. "I am merely.... testing you. I must say, you do not cut an imposing figure at all, little monkey. But... Maybe you'll impress me."
Aeolian really didn't want to hear another sentence come out of this creature's mouth. Every word felt like an ocean of anxiety passed over him, making bile start to rise in his throat. He couldn't handle...this, whatever this is.
Panic was starting to over take him. He couldn't think straight.
He summoned a gust of wind, hurling it at the being. It was strong enough to make the glass on some of the closer mirrors crack, his reflection in them distorting.
It was at this point that Aeolian realized something horrifying.
The being didn't have a reflection.
The wind gust slammed ineffectively against the creature, who remained unfazed to the attack, not even flinching.
"Hmph. Pitiful." It said, and then suddenly, Aeolian was slammed against the wall, the previously cracked mirrors shattering with the force of it, raining glass down all around him. He hissed as the falling glass cut his shoulders and arms as it brushed pass him. Slowly, he started to peel himself off the wall, putting his hand against it for support as he stumbled-
Only to choke as the was suddenly some... force shoving him back up against it, pinning his arms and holding a horrible pressure around his neck. He struggled, tail thrashing wildly as he tried to move his arms up to claw at the force around his neck, to no avail.
It wasn't tight enough to strangle him. But it could become so at any moment.
The being slid closer to him, until it held one clawed hand up to Aeolian's face, cupping his chin, tilting his head side to side as it looked him over. At this point, Aeolian couldn't stop himself from trembling.
"Hm. How disappointing." It said, and Aeolian whimpered in pain as the creature suddenly drew its clawed finger down Aeolian's cheek, deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to scar. "I expected more from you, little monkey."
This couldn't be how it ends. Aeolian wouldn't let this be how it ends.
Summoning more energy than he thought he had, Aeolian summoned a sharp blade of wind, bringing it swiftly down on the creatures face. It reared back, and Aeolian dropped to the ground, free of the force that had been holding him to the wall. He panted, trying to recover from that horrible feeling of near suffocation, but still tried to stand back up, knowing that the fight was far from won.
He'd only made it halfway up before the creature laughed again, nearly sending Aeolian tumbling back down to the ground from the sheer energy that came with it.
"Interesting." It hissed, "Perhaps you will be of some use after all."
It waved a clawed hand, and Aeolian watched in frozen fear as a small mirror, the only mirror in the room that remained undamaged, floated down into the being's grasp. The creature turned, and slowly started to approach him again.
Aeolian scrambled to back away, tripping on his feet as he did so, until his back was up against the wall again. He threw his arms in front of himself, his tail also wrapping around in a feeble attempt at protection.
It was a useless endeavor.
The being laughed it's horrible, horrible laugh again, and the ringing increased ten fold-
It stuck it's clawed hand right into Aeolian's chest.
Aeolian screamed, trying to pull back, his tail swishing erratically from the pain. His whole body burned, and he felt the creatures long claws prod and twist, searching for something, before grasping and Aeolian felt like he'd lost the ability to breathe altogether, and his struggling and squirming increased with the desperate need for the creature to stop touching it, stop touching me-
The claws pulled out, painfully slowly, taking what they had grasped along with it, leaving Aeolian to crumple to the ground, feeling cold, hollow-
Empty.
He stared unblinkingly at the creature, knowing he should be feeling something, anything, but it all felt...muted. He couldn't think. He was empty.
The ringing was back. It was all that he could hear.
Aeolian watched, watched as the creature took what it had stolen, something that shown with a bright glow, and looked like it'd give off the sensation of warmth, of home.
He wanted it back so badly, yet could not bring himself to move as the creature slid what it had stolen into the small ornate mirror, claiming what it had stole.
He could just barely hear the creature laugh over the ringing, and it was at this point that Aeolian's body finally decided it had had enough.
His vision went black, and he passed out.
---
When Aeolian woke up again, he was in his bedroom, lying on top of the covers.
A dream. He wanted to believe that it had all been a dream.
He knew that it wasn't.
He could feel the blood from the fresh cut on his cheek still dripping down the side of his face. He could feel the pain of where the glass shards had cut him on his arms and shoulders.
But most of all, he could still feel that empty coldness, right where something warm used to be.
...He'd have to treat the cuts.
Standing up, he slowly made his way to the bathroom, putting his hand against the wall for support.
He entered, flickering on the light-
The bathroom mirror shown back at him.
His reflection was nowhere to be seen.
Stumbling forwards, he placed both hands on the mirror, drawing as close to it as possible, to make sure that this was real, he wasn't hallucinating, his reflection is gone-
He could hear the laughter ringing in his ears.
Panic planted it's roots in him.
Drawing his hands back, he summoned wind around his fists-
And smashed his mirror into pieces.
He stood there for a moment, panting, listening to the dripping of the blood from the fresh cuts on his hands falling down and hitting the sink below.
There was silence. No laughter. No ringing.
Only silence.
Aeolian slowly backed away from where his mirror used to be. Quietly, shaking, he slid down, to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest, his tail curling around him in a poor attempt at comfort.
He couldn't bring himself to cry. He was too shaken to.
---
Later, he would be told by an uncharacteristically serious Iva that she found him there, on the floor of the bathroom, trembling, staring at nothing, with glass shards surrounding him. He had refused to talk to her, refused to say anything, as she had removed him from the bathroom, and quickly and quietly cleaned his wounds. It was only when she had jokingly asked if he wanted her to buy him a new mirror that he had spoken, panicking, repeating "No. No mirrors.".
Apparently, it had taken her 6 minutes to get him to calm back down again. It had taken her another 20 to get him to fall asleep.
He managed to explain what had happened to her, somewhat, once he had woken up again, and was more coherent. She had sat there in thought, knowing that this was too serious of a situation to make a joke.
"Well." She eventually said, "What are you going to do?"
There was a moment of silence between them as Aeolian pondered that question.
"The....creature." He eventually started, lightly gripping his blankets. "It. It wanted something from me. It took something from me."
"How about this then." Iva said, "You simply take it back."
"How? How could I possibly manage to beat it-"
"I'm not saying you beat it. I'm saying you take it back."
Upon only receiving a confused look from the bedridden monkey, Iva sighed.
"I'm suggesting you steal it." She said.
"I....I don't think I could." Aeolian said, "I have no idea where it went, it could be anywhere, and, and besides, I don't know the first thing about stealing-"
"Then you can practice." Iva interrupted. "As soon as you feel better, I can set up a mock heist for you, at my place. After you get the basics down, you can start trying to lure the creature out. Steal some rare and mystical items. Make a show out of it. Even if it doesn't attract the creature's attention, it will still attract attention. Maybe you'll be able to find some people who know something about it."
"I- are you suggesting I become a phantom thief?" Aeolian asked.
"I didn't not suggest it."
"Iva, that's breaking the law."
Iva shrugged.
"Since when have I ever cared about breaking the law?" She said, and Aeolian stared at her in disbelief. "Besides, you'll only be stealing from rich people anyways. It'll be like a modern day Robin Hood kinda thing."
"And if I get arrested?"
"I'll break you out, of course."
There was a moment of silence as Aeolian contemplated his decision, as Iva watched patiently for her friend to accept the chaotic idea she had proposed. He always did accept her ideas, in the end.
And this time was no different.
"...Fine. It's not like we've got any better ideas." Aeolian finally sighed, and Iva cheered in response. "I do have one condition though."
"And what would that be?" Iva asked.
"If I end up falling in love with a detective during this process, I'm going to need you to smack me. Hard."
"Done." Iva said, holding out her hand. Aeolian accepted her handshake, although he winced at the brief sting from the cuts on his hands.
---
Three months later, shortly after meeting Haze, Iva would proceed to smack Aeolian on the head.
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mercurypilgrim · 3 years
Note
Has anyone tried to bribe or buy Ven by gifting him a slave/slaves (aside from whoever was responsible for Vette - Barras, I guess)? If yes, how did he react?
Ooh, I like this question!
I would say that yes, this has happened. Slaves are a commodity in the Empire, and I’d imagine someone wouldn’t think twice about using them as bartering chips.
I liked this so much imma write a snippet for it. ^_^
---
Ven'fir stared.
"I-" he managed, before closing his mouth.
It wasn't often that he was speechless.
The Sith that was watching his reaction seemed very pleased with himself, his crimson tattoos moving as his smile crinkled his eyes.
The human on the end of the chain kept her eyes down respectfully, shivering slightly in the chill of a Kaasi evening breeze. She wore what amounted to decorative scraps of fabric, held together by delicate silver chains and other adornments.
"You like her, yes?" The other Sith prompted, smug. "She's a gift. One that I hope will allow you to look more favourably upon my proposal, Darth Venator."
The human's shoulders tensed ever so slightly, and Ven'fir's thoughts were like a whirlwind.
Ven'fir hadn't used to think much about slaves before. The ones that served his House had been pleasant enough, if a bit quiet. None of them were particularly badly treated as far as he saw, and it was such a normal part of his life that he'd never much thought about them.
Then, Vette.
Now he thought about it a lot.
He swallowed, and it was painful.
"I don't appreciate bribery," he said, voice pitched low. The Sith hurriedly tried to explain, his eyes turning wide as he realised his mistake. Some Sith had honour, but he had assumed the roguish Darth Venator was no one of them. "If you want your daughter to apprentice under me, she must earn it."
He pinned the older man, the proud father, with a glare that had him cowering. A hint of power licked at their senses, something massive and burning, like looking into the heart of a star.
"You should have done more research on me," he muttered, flexing clawed gauntlets. The Sith's eyes darted to them, horrified. The air was beginning to taste like fear.
The slave shivered, closing her eyes and refusing to move.
"I cannot abide people being sold like property." he snarled, reaching out.
He wasn't sure when the Force choke had become a signature of his, but the way the Sith's aura flared with fear and he dropped the end of the chain to get away told him that he knew what was coming.
The Force wrapped around his throat, almost gentle in it's slowness. It curled around his neck and began to squeeze, the pressure gradually increasing to give the victim more than enough time to understand what was happening to them.
By the time the Sith was begging, he was already turning puce.
"I should snap your neck," Ven'fir murmured, and ignored the tears running down the others cheeks. "I wonder if you appreciate the feeling, hm? This is what a choke collar feels like."
He paused, glancing down to the slave crouching on the floor.
"Want me to kill him?" he asked, and she only trembled.
He sighed, and let the Sith fall into unconsciousness instead. His own power was calling out for blood, to sink his clawed hand through the pleading Sith's chest and feel the hot lifeblood seep between the seams of his gauntlets. He soothed the urge like one would a feral cat, soft lies calming ruffled fur.
He let the unconscious body slip to the floor, where it lay, crumpled. At least this way the daughter, an acolyte at the academy looking for her first apprenticeship, wouldn't come looking to avenge her father by killing him. He had no wish to spill her blood too.
Carefully, he approached the slave, whose nose was almost touching the floor. Her hair, cropped short, exposed how her ears had been pierced through with more delicate silver jewellery.
Ven'fir knelt in front of her, somewhat at a loss.
"Hey," he murmured, "It's all right. He's gone, and I won't hurt you."
Nothing.
"Please, look at me?" he asked, something in the Force nudging him to ask.
Immediately the woman looked up and into his eyes, and he saw her form tense again in fear when she met his amber gaze, Sith eyes lambent in the dim lighting.
He tried for a small smile.
"Well done," he murmured, "Please, you are allowed to speak to me however you wish."
Guarded, she nodded.
"What's your name?" he asked, watching how she considered the question.
"Marif, sir." She said after a few moments, wary like she expected him to be displeased.
"That's a nice name," he assured, smiling. "My name if Ven'fir."
She shifted, and her chains made delicate clinking noises as she did so. Ven'fir hated the sound.
"Master Rovial called you Darth Venator, sir." she all but whispered.
Ven'fir nodded.
"Yes, that's my Sith title. You can call me whatever you like." he soothed, "Now, can you stand? I'm going to take you with me to get some proper clothes on, and then I'm going to get you off this planet."
She stared at him, wide eyed. She couldn't have been more than twenty, and his belly clenched. The kind of clothes she had been put in made her intended purpose obvious.
"I'm freeing you." he said softly. "Come on, I won't let anything happen to you."
Carefully, awaiting a punishment at every turn, she stood on shaking legs. He offered her his arm and she clung to it as he swept his cloak over her shoulders. It drowned her in fabric, but she pulled it around herself and pressed close. She was trembling and frightened, of him almost as much as everything else.
He swallowed hard, and punched in a channel on his holo.
His crew would help.
He felt her hand, tiny in his own, tighten as they walked, leaving the unconscious body of her former Master behind them.
Neither looked back.
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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years
Text
Her Dove, His Falcon, Their Shield Part One
Fandom: Game Of Thrones
Pairing: Eventual Oberyn/Reader/Ellaria
Rating: Holy shit M.
AN: Disclaimer for Game Of Thrones writing here! This installment contains a reader that is a ruff tuff cheeto puff, a damn juggernaut. STRONK. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to culturalrebel and hulia for recommending me compilation videos, as well as to @zeldasayer for inspiring me to write a hella buff reader. This is peak indulgence, pauldronsexual hours bois. I wax poetic about Ellaria, it’s a great time. I'll see you all with part two on Monday. Enjoy!
Tag List: @culturalrebel @huliabitch @absurdthirst @helplessly-nonstop
[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of canon-typical violence, allusions to canon-typical abuse, depictions of sexual activities with a pregnant party and vague allusions to breeding kink. Stay safe!] 
You were sure your fingers were broken.
The pain flickered sunlight-bright behind your eyes every time you had tried to move your pinky or your index, your entire right hand so gristly you didn't dare to look at it after you had bound it up as best as you could.
You clutched your hand to your chest, forcing yourself to focus. The wharf. You had to reach the docks. That had been your plan this morning, before everything had gone so terribly wrong. 
You crept through the shadows, dashing away your tears with your threadbare shawl. Your weeping would only be a sign of weakness, urging the vultures to circle on your corpse before it was even cold.
The creak of timbers heralded your arrival to the waterfront and a soft sigh of relief left your mouth when you spotted who you were looking for. The sailor that had promised you passage was there, leaned against the wall of the nearby harbormaster's quarters. He glanced up at the sound of your voice when you hailed him, tipping his head.
"Well well, look what the cat dragged in." He chuckled, wandering hands already tugging at your shawl. "Have you brought the payment, my dear?"
You pulled forth a small purse of coins. "I know it is less than what we promised, but I was unable to-" The man clicked his tongue, obviously disappointed. "I-I am certain we can come to an agreement, please." You begged desperately. You were so close to your escape!
"Darling, we had a deal." The sailor chided, sounding like he was scolding a child. "You bring me the payment, and I convince my captain that having a woman on board our vessel isn't bad luck. Now, at the eleventh hour, you decide you want to bargain?" The man crowded you back against the wall, his face inches from yours when he muttered, "I don't barter with whores." The blow caught you unawares, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek. You shut your eyes when he raised his hand again, gritting your teeth in anticipation of stifling your noise. 
Gods, you were so tired of this.
"What are you doing to that girl?" A man's voice demanded, his distinctive Dornish accent thick with either drink or weariness. "Get away from her or I will cut you down where you stand, you cur." 
"She is hurt, lover." That voice was lilting, intrigued, a woman's voice. "Look at her hand, and the way her face is turned. She has been struck."
You abruptly felt the sailor's weight removed from your body, the sudden action making you cringe back against the wall. Large, trembling fingers eased your wounded hand away from where you had it protectively curled into your chest. "What has happened to you, sweetling?" You didn't dare to open your eyes and the man tsked after a moment, relinquishing your hand. 
"Lover, we must get you onboard, your wounds-" 
"A moment, Ellaria. This…" A hand touched your cheek, making you start and open your eyes. Dark, textured leather armor met your gaze, the surface spattered rusty with blood. Your breathing stuttered. You didn't dare to look up at the man who wore the armor, staring at his chest as hard as you could manage.
The hand slid beneath your chin, tugging your eyes reluctantly upwards as your shawl slid off of your head. You gasped when you caught sight of his face. The man appeared battered, the sides of his head badly bruised at the temples and cheeks. There were livid contusions that looked suspiciously like large handprints, as if someone had attempted to crush his skull with their bare hands. His left eye was bloodied, laced with spiderwebbed veins and swollen half-shut. The fingers that touched your face were still shaking, his other hand pressed to a dressing that wrapped around his left elbow.
"Not a girl, I see. A woman." The Dornishman said quietly after enduring a moment of your impolite gawking. "And as such, I cannot make this choice for you."
You swallowed hard. You had heard stories about the people of Dorne, about Sunspear and the supposed depravity that took place there. True, you had been hoping to get aboard a ship and go somewhere, anywhere, as far away as you could manage. And with that sailor denying you passage...
The man's deep brown eyes saddened at your silence. "Would you stay here and endure this mistreatment from men like him, simply because it is familiar?"
You shook your head, fleetingly meeting his gaze and opening your mouth. "I have never been on a ship before, m-my lord." You attempted a belated curtsey. You had no idea who this man was, but it was best to err on the side of caution that he was of a higher social ranking than you. Most people were.
He seemed amused if anything, a pained smile crossing his haggard features. "You will soon grow to love it, little dove."
"If it pleases you, my lord." You demurred in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Were you trading one cruel man for another? They often hid their true intentions until their audience was gone. But the woman at his side...she didn't seem fearful. "I have naught to offer for my passage but this, my lord." The small purse of coins jingled softly as you extended it to the man in front of you. "I am uncertain how much distance it will buy me, but I am not afraid of hard work."
The man waved it off, cupping your hand around the purse. "Do not trouble yourself with such things, my dove. Our time grows short." 
You had been warned of the sea illness, but you appeared to be able to ward off the heaves if you stayed above decks. The fresh salt air stung your cheeks, yet you refused to move from your spot by the railing. You made yourself scarce beside a pile of coiled rope, staying out of the way of the sailors bustling about and watching everything with wide eyes. Your injured hand was still cradled to your chest, but you had no attention for it as you hungrily devoured your surroundings.
King's Landing had been an area tinged gray, dour with gilded suffering. The golden sunsets that would pour through the high windows of your barren room paled in comparison to the sunset you were witnessing now. It was as if the horizon itself was ablaze, a cacophony of reds and oranges that turned the ocean brilliant. You had never seen such a sunset in all your years, and you prayed that it was a good omen. 
The sailors sang as they worked, all of them settling into a rhythm in order to keep everything running smoothly. It was fascinating to watch men pulling lines taut and tacking the mighty vessel into the wind, the ship nimble enough to respond to such rapid adjustments.
"There you are, little dove." Ellaria swayed easily with the motion of the craft, one hand resting on the shrouds to keep her balance. You started in surprise, having not noticed her approach. "You enjoy watching the sailors?"
"They are incredible, my lady." You replied honestly, cocking your head to the side. "I know very little about sailing, but surely their skill is unmatched? You must be immensely proud."
Her laughter was a beautiful noise, just as beautiful as she was. "My lover will be pleased to hear such flattery from your lips! He takes great delight in sailing. Now come with me, flattering dove. We must have the healer tend to your hand." 
You shakily climbed upright, gripping the bannister with your good hand as if your life depended on it. The journey back to the elaborate cabin was fraught with peril for you, and you envied Ellaria's gauzy, simplistic garb every time your heavy skirts got caught on the various cleats and belaying pins. 
Ellaria opened the cabin door and ushered you into the darker environment, tutting between her teeth. "Lover, you should not be upright." She scolded.
The wounded man (now heavily bandaged), shot her a lazy smile from his place at a desk, quill resting on a half-used sheet of vellum. "I know, Ellaria. She tried her best to tell me so as well."
An older woman (the healer, judging from her no-nonsense expression) rolled her eyes and dusted off her hands, approaching you rapidly. You flinched back and she slowed, her gaze flicking to Ellaria in question.
"We encountered this sweet dove on the docks. It is her hand, Ael." Ellaria said quietly, taking your arm. "Come, sit. Ael will not harm you."
You were settled onto a soft cushion and the healer slid your hand into her own, her touch light and careful while she unwrapped your bruised fingers. "How?" She asked, her voice just as quiet as Ellaria's.
You squeezed your eyes shut against the memory, biting your lip. "It was an accident, I didn't mean...I upset him."
"Him?" The man asked, leaning forward and then grimacing in pain. "That man on the docks?"
"N-No, my master. I am...well, I suppose I was, a-a helpmate of sorts. Shield-maiden. I...helped him to don and doff his armor, and I," you hesitated, "well, did whatever was asked of me."
Ellaria made a noise in her throat. "So what crime did you commit, to earn such punishment that would render you useless for your primary task?"
"I...I broke two of his fingers." You extended your uninjured hand in a gesture to allay concern. "I did not mean to! It was an a-accident, he had a trial to prepare for today with a fearsome opponent. His mind was elsewhere, and when I went to slide his gauntlet on-"
"What was your master's name, little dove?" The man interrupted you, his expression thoughtful. 
"His name is Ser Gregor Clegane, my lord. An enormous man who has been dubbed The Mountain." 
"You mentioned a fearsome opponent. But with a master such as that, who was this fearsome opponent?" 
"A prince of Dorne, my lord, one of your own! Can you even imagine?" You sighed dreamily, vaguely aware that Ael was giving you an odd look. She probably thought you childish, still swooning over faceless royalty. "I was told that he was an immensely fierce and clever man, though not in such forgiving language." Then, forgetting your place, you muttered, "I hope that he roundly trounced Ser Clegane."
The man burst out laughing, but winced and held his jaw as Ael fixed him a stern glare. You were certain your confusion was quite bare on your face. "Apologies, I do not laugh at your misfortune, little dove. Rather, at the providence of it all." He explained, still chuckling. "You are to thank for his terrible temper and sloppy work at the trial, then?"
"Oh, you witnessed the duel? What happened?" You asked excitedly, rocking on your seat in anticipation. 
"Oberyn, stop teasing." Ellaria murmured, sounding almost like she was chiding him. 
Oberyn. 
Your heart leaped into your throat as the man tossed you a pained smirk, moving to the pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. "Y...You? You are-?" Your voice failed you.
"Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, a fierce and clever man among many other virtues?" He drawled, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he gingerly reclined on his soft throne. "None other than, sweet dove."
"They are so deliciously genuine, lover." Ellaria crooned to him while you felt your skin flush hot with embarrassment. "They had nothing but lovely things to say about your crew, and now this? Such courtesy."
"Truly?" Oberyn (Prince Oberyn! your mind shrieked in horror) asked, his tone bordering on surprised. "And all of that, without even knowing who you spoke to? Rare courtesy indeed." 
"I...I am so sorry if I've offended you, your highness." You whispered, "I know there is no excuse for my ignorance."
"Nonsense! I owe you a debt, it seems!" Oberyn replied cheerily. You dared to look up, finding him with a hand pressed to the side of his well-bandaged jaw. "Ser Gregor sought to crush my skull after I had run him through. Clearly, it is thanks to you that he could not maintain his grip and I escaped with this colorful bruising."
"So you killed him?" You asked, knowing full-well that the hope in your voice was unbecoming.
"If he is not dead yet, he will be soon." Oberyn seemed outrageously pleased with himself, though his eyes were strangely melancholy. "Justice has been served. I only wish that I could have stayed to witness him breathe his filthy last, but it seemed that the royal family had other plans regarding the outcome of the trial. I thought it better to take my leave before they decided to finish what Ser Gregor began."
You ducked your face into your elbow, trying to quickly hide your tears. Ellaria caught your chin though, her confusion evident. "Why do you weep, little dove?"
"P-Please forgive my loss of composure! I w-weep for myself, my lady." You hiccupped, the words spilling out of you. "I suffered much by the hand of that man. To know that Ser Clegane is in agony or already perished…it feels like a precious gift, yet I should take no joy in the knowledge. To luxuriate in his demise makes me no better than him."
"You are alive and he is not. Luxuriate in that, if you will not give yourself the satisfaction of indulging in vicarious revenge." Oberyn murmured, his tone troubled. "Did he shame you, little dove?" 
You raised your eyes to his and he must have seen the truth there, even though you said softly that you had heard of him doing far worse than what had ever been done to you. "I believe I was one of the luckier ones, your highness."
The prince cursed under his breath, rubbing his temples. "I will be overjoyed to be back in Dorne once again. King's Landing is fraught with madness. A wonder that it still fills me with fury! I am half-dead." He muttered. 
"Indeed you are, lover. You ought to be resting." Ellaria chastised him, her tone fondly concerned.
"Yes, my love. I am immensely weary. But council me before I slumber. What shall I do with this unforeseen ally?" The prince asked, waving a hand in your direction. "They spake so sweetly to me, and I could have been the lowest man in all of Dorne. Such honesty deserves reward."
"Not to mention that without their aid, your head would have been crushed." Ellaria pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I would not be able to do this."
"You graciously offered me passage, your highness. That is more than enough-" You began to protest, wincing when Ael tightly bound your fingers together once again. 
Oberyn dismissed your reasoning with naught but a slow flick of his wrist, yawning widely. "Ellaria, the weariness has ensnared me. Do with them what you wish, my love." He mumbled, sinking down into the nest of blankets. Ellaria studied you for a time as you sat silently, letting Ael tend to your hand. You didn't dare to meet her eyes, so frightened that she might view you as defiant. 
"I know you must be used to making yourself small, little dove." She finally spoke softly. "Take heart, the people of Dorne are not so cruel as those you have encountered." Ael had finished wrapping your fingers and Ellaria encircled your wrists, the other woman searching your eyes. "Men use such pretty terms to describe the anguish their counterparts inflict upon us. Shamed, as if you were a naughty child." She shook her head unhappily. "I would promise you your heart's desire, for it is because of you that my beloved still breathes. Anything you wish, you need only ask."
You stared at her dumbly, trying in vain to blink back the fresh tears that rose at her practical words. 
Ellaria tutted, her hand rising to smooth over your tangled hair in a maternal fashion while the tears spilled down your cheeks. "You are exhausted, little dove." She soothed, a gossamer sleeve catching your tears and patting your face dry. "Sleep now. I will ask you in the morning."
...
You woke to someone gently brushing your hair, the groan of timber and faint sounds of water all around you. Certain that you were dreaming, you hummed and shifted your weight, snuggling a little closer to the lap your head rested in.
"Dove, are you awake?" Ellaria. You nodded sleepily, trying to remember who that name belonged to. "I had hoped to be done before you woke." She sighed. "Try to stay still for me, sweet. I will be finished in a few moments." 
As you felt her begin to plait your hair, your mind slowly seemed to shake off the warm haze of sleep. The Mountain. Your hand. Prince Oberyn--
Gods, Prince Oberyn! You flinched, wide awake now. Ellaria patted the top of your head, obviously satisfied with her handiwork. "There! Beautiful." She said decisively. "You slept so soundly, my little dove! You needed the rest, I imagine."
"My lady…" Right back to where you had started, you nearly wept all over again. Your life had been devoid of tenderness for so long, cut off from any warmth or care. Now here was a small smattering, a ray of sunlight through the clouds, and you were utterly in a shambles. "I apologize for my turbulent emotions." You breathed. "I am at a loss."
"Hush, little dove." The woman murmured, a finger tucking beneath your chin to tilt your face up. "You are so pensive! I would see you smile. Breakfast, perhaps?"
You hesitated, your stomach knotting uncertainly. "I do not know if I will be able to, my lady. The ship...I am unused to its motion." 
Ellaria smiled at you, a genuine, soft smile that wrapped around your soul like a secret. "We shall eat above decks, my dove. Something light, to baby that green belly of yours."
Gods, was she teasing you? You had no idea what to think as she got to her feet and extended a hand to you. The light played across her golden skin when she helped you rise, even more of her body on display in today's garb. You felt like a drab sparrow beside a brilliant goldfinch, trying vainly to smooth the wrinkles out of your skirts as you followed behind her.
The sky was blue overhead, the sun just slightly above the horizon. It was still early, though normally you would be going to sleep at this hour.
Your shudder had nothing to do with the brisk sea wind.
"Beautiful, is it not?" Ellaria said gladly, tilting her head at you. Her brown eyes fairly danced with good humor, like she was sharing a joke. 
Your heart clenched in your chest and you swallowed roughly. When you agreed with her, you were unsure of whether you spoke of the sky or the woman beside you. 
After a light breakfast, Ellaria left you to your own devices. You continued to watch the sailors with awe, thankful that they all seemed perfectly content to ignore you.
It did not take long for the prince to grow bored in his confinement, his complaints growing louder and louder until he emerged onto the deck. Half-dressed, Ellaria following after him bearing a light golden wrapper, Oberyn stalked to the railing and stared moodily across the water at the other ship that had departed alongside his at King's Landing. 
"Had I not promised Cersei that I would bring that miserable pile of driftwood to her child, I would scuttle the whole affair." He muttered, stroking his facial hair. Ellaria attempted to drape the dressing gown around him, beckoning for you to come assist her. "Even after all the harm she's done, I will not cause undue grief to...ah, my dove!" The sight of you seemed to shake him from his doleful contemplation, and you couldn't help your flush when the prince idly brushed his fingers over your cheek after you had succeeded in helping Ellaria. "Have you decided what you might ask of me, little dove?" Inhaling a bracing gulp of air, you nodded. The prince inclined his head, tucking Ellaria into his side and then raising his eyebrows at you in silent query. 
"I ask...I-I ask two things of you, your highness." You winced when your voice squeaked nervously. "First, I humbly request that you hear me until the end. What I will ask...I know that it is laughable." The prince frowned, but nodded. "I was trained for much of my years in the manner of a soldier, as my mother bore my father no sons. That is how Gregor found me." You steeled yourself. "I would like to continue my tutelage and, once I have become a full-fledged warrior, I would ask to join your soldiers and fight under the flag of Martell."
"Why...Why would you ask for that?" Oberyn queried, his tone one of immense confusion. Ellaria looked bewildered as well.
"After everything that has...happened, to me, everything that has been done to me, I am no longer fit to marry." You explained, doing your best to be ginger with your speech. "Yet, I would serve the man who slew Gregor with my very life. All I can ask for is the chance."
The prince lifted his hand, laying it across the back of your neck and tugging you to lean close. He pressed his forehead to your own, his eyes searching yours. "Not a dove at all." He murmured finally. "A falcon. You will have your wish and one better, my falcon. I will not see you amongst the rank and file of soldiers in my brother's army. You shall train as a knight." His hand clapped your shoulder warmly. "A knight of House Martell. It will be difficult! But I know you would not expect ease after the life you have endured." He glanced at Ellaria. "What say you, my love?"
Ellaria's smile was soft and a bit sad. She cupped your face, touching her forehead to your own as well. "Elia would have loved the spirit of this one."
Elia Martell. You had heard the stories, of course, but the depth of the anguish you saw in Oberyn's gaze took your breath away. 
The prince nodded sorrowfully after a moment, kissing Ellaria's knuckles. "Aye, she would have. But she can rest easy now, my love, and that is all that matters."
"Again!" The battlemaster shouted, his hand extended to direct. "First form!"
You had flourished under the watchful eye of the head warriors of House Martell, training alongside several of Oberyn's own daughters. The strength you had built through your prior training with heavy plate and shield made you unexpectedly hardy, especially when clad in the much lighter leather and chain mail that the Dornish warriors wore. 
You were able to wield a pike on foot with relative ease, and Oberyn saw to it personally that you were granted a larger shield. "If you are to be drawing the enemy's attention, I would rather you are shielded…"
You assumed the first stance, your form wavering ever so slightly when Oberyn and Ellaria emerged from a nearby hallway to observe the training. 
The prince was well on the mend from his grisly ordeal with Gregor, only bearing a slight tenderness in his left elbow during poor weather. He was a truly lucky man. Ellaria was in good spirits this afternoon, her smile radiant as she waved to you. You bowed, panting a little from the exertion of your training. The battlemaster dismissed you with a grin, overused to such royal interruptions. 
Oberyn's younger daughters flung themselves at you in their typical fashion the second they were permitted, all of them piling onto you in an effort to take you to the ground. You struggled valiantly against the assault as Oberyn laughed, the man wading into the mass of bodies after a moment to pluck Loreza from your back. "Such violence from my beautiful children! You are your mother's daughters." He teased with a broad smile, rubbing his nose against Loreza's. 
Dorea danced around her mother, tugging at her hands. "May we go to the water gardens, mama?" She asked, pausing to meticulously straighten her petite bracers. Dorea took the training very seriously. 
Ellaria nodded, patting her on the head. "Alright my little snakes, rise from the sand and go play." She urged, "You have all done so well in your training today! I am very proud." Elia rolled her eyes, shaking her head when Obella and Dorea shrieked their delight. She was, of course, too old to let such maternal praise cloud her impressions of how her training had actually gone. 
You wished you didn't light up as bright as the children whenever the prince and his paramour praised them. You knew that it was foolish. 
"We are both impressed with your progress. It has only been five months and yet, you fight as if you were of Dorne yourself." Oberyn observed after his children had departed, his hand resting at the small of Ellaria's back. 
You went hot at the praise, bowing and stammering, "a-all due to your faith in me, your highness!"
"How many times must I insist that you simply call me Oberyn?" He asked, the grin he shot you making your knees weak. "After all, unwittingly or not, we conspired together as equals!"
"Do not tease her so, lover!" Ellaria chided him. "We had something to tell her, remember?"
"Apologies, my love." Oberyn cleared his throat, and his face grew incredibly serious. "My falcon, we come bearing wonderful news. My paramour is pregnant once again." He announced, "A new Sand Snake will be born in but six months time."
You gaped at him, then at Ellaria, who was beaming. "Oh, that is...good?" You half-questioned. True, the people of Dorne had radically different viewpoints from the rest of the world when it came to bastards, carnal acts and indeed, their sexuality in general. You were still adjusting to such broad views.
Ellaria nodded, thankfully not visibly offended by your hesitation. "In Dorne, children are a treasured blessing, not the death knell that so many seem to see them as." She rested her hands on the nearly imperceptible swell of her belly. "Oberyn wished to ask you to become my sworn knight, to defend me from such trials that pregnancy brings." Her eyes were dancing again; she was joking with you. 
You chuckled nervously, dusting the knees of your breeches off. "I fear I would do more harm than good in that department, my lady." Despite her insistence that she was but a bastard, you always referred to her as 'my lady', just as you always referred to Oberyn by archaic honorifics. 
"Are you greatly concerned with the skirmish I am sending you to, my falcon?" Oberyn asked bluntly. 
You shook your head. "Not at all, your highness. I have faith in my skill, as well as the competence of Prince Doran's military."
"I will be there as well, though only advising in my elder brother's stead." Oberyn sighed wistfully. "You must be twice as fierce on the battlefield, my falcon! Fill my place in the ranks."
"I must be at least six times as fierce if I were to try and match you, your highness!" You protested.
"The genuine nature of your flattery never ceases to raise my spirits, my falcon! Dorne will need your strength." The prince grinned sharply, "And your ferocity. I assume we can expect great things from you?" He extended his forearm and you clasped it, feeling the coil of muscle that lurked beneath the sleeve of his brocade robe.
"You may depend on me, Prince Oberyn." You replied firmly.
...
It was to be a simple pincer attack, your small battalion held in reserve to strike at the most opportune moment. Everything always seemed so straightforward when in the map room.
Now, in the muddy chaos of the battlefield, you planted your massive tower shield as a rallying point for the foot soldiers and warded off the attacks that poured around it like river water. Cavalry thundered past you into the fray, lances up and proud Martell trappings flapping in the breeze. You struck down Dorne's foes without mercy, attempting to do the absent Oberyn justice.
Until you caught sight of Elia, torn from her horse by a greatsword-wielding warrior. She hit the mud hard, barely rolling out of the way of the man's full swing. He landed a glancing blow on her shoulder and you heard her cry out.
You jerked your shield up out of the ground, terrified beyond measure that she would not hear your voice. You gathered your legs beneath you to brace for her weight and shouted, "Lady Elia!" Her eyes met yours for a split-second. "Ninth form!" With your shoulder and knee set into the back of your shield, you tilted the metal.
The smaller woman bolted up and onto your slanted shield, then wheeled and sprang off with her arm outstretched to grapple the warrior's neck. The man was floored by the blow, he and Elia tumbling to the ground. You thrust your spear through the offending wrist that still gripped his sword, your razor-sharp weapon piercing the weak point in his armor and pinning his hand to the ground as he screamed. 
"If any man dares to touch a Sand Snake, he shall lose his hand and his life." You seethed, raising and then crushing the edge of your shield down on his throat. Elia stared up at you, hurriedly accepting your hand when you offered it. "Are you badly injured, my lady?" You asked worriedly.
"Just winded." She jibed but winced afterwards, touching the blood blotting her armor at the shoulder. "Damn it, and perhaps my shoulder could use tending."
"Shall I escort you back to the stratagem, my lady?"
"So courteous! A true knight." She teased, laughing. "Of course, deliver me to the hands of my hen of a father, that he might chatter and squawk about how careless I was." She tossed her head haughtily. "Wonderful."
"I meant no disrespect, my lady." Elia had a rebellious streak that may have very well been the entirety of her body. Fiercely capable and cunning beyond measure, this would be a blow to her pride. But you could not very well permit her to venture on wounded and get herself killed in the bargain, so you herded her gently back towards the stratagem tents.
You were both soaked head to toe with the blood and sweat of battle, so Oberyn's gut-wrenching expression of terror upon catching sight of his daughter was to be expected. "Elia!" He cried, striding out of the tent. "Where is the wound? You would not retreat willingly, you are too stubborn."
"Hush, I am well. Your falcon saw to that." Elia retorted, gesturing at your massive shield. "She clove a man's head off with that simply for touching me."
"He did a sight more than touch you, my lady." You replied stiffly, "I merely retaliated."
Oberyn enfolded his daughter in his arms, squeezing her tightly as you stripped your helmet off. "Straight to Ael with you. You have done well." He praised her, "but this shoulder will need to be tended lest you lose feeling in your hand."
After Elia had departed, you dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your highness. I was not fast enough to keep her from harm."
"Lightning itself is not fast enough to keep that one from being wherever she wants." Oberyn replied dryly, clapping your shoulder and urging you to stand. "You brought her to me, a task which I'm certain she did not make simple. You are…" he trailed off, staring at you. Since you had removed your helmet, you assumed you must have some mud on your face. Why else would he look at you as though he had never seen you before? Perhaps the sun was in his eyes, or maybe your hair was much more hopeless than usual.
You quickly scrubbed at your cheeks, but Oberyn remained silent. "Prince Oberyn?" You queried tentatively.
"You are capable." He managed to finish his thought after several more moments. His voice was strangely faint. "Thank you for returning her hale and whole to me."
"Are you well, your highness?"
"Quite well. Astonishingly so, given the circumstances."
...
You were knighted formally as Ser Shieldove of House Martell on the following new moon. Oberyn winked at you in playful insinuation when you and several other new knights knelt before his brother to be anointed with seven oils, nearly causing you to embarrass yourself by laughing. The younger prince had become markedly more flirtatious towards you after the skirmish, his teasing bold even for his standards. You had dismissed it though, certain that he was merely expressing his gratitude with some flattering attention directed your way.
At the feast that followed, Oberyn and Ellaria flanked you instead of taking up their usual position at the head of the table with Prince Doran. Ellaria in particular was nearly hanging off your arm as the both of them fed you from their own trenchers. His tender touch while he plied you with fruits and the brush of the pads of her fingers against your lips made your throat burn with an odd emotion that you dared not examine. The flavorful dolmas hit your tongue and turned to ash in the wake of Ellaria's beautiful smile and Oberyn's jests.
The prince was regaling anyone who would listen with the thrilling (and greatly exaggerated) tale of you and Elia in the skirmish. "-my daughter, Elia Sand, though wounded, fought valiantly against a warrior seven times her size. Ser Shieldove, thinking quickly as she always does-"
"That is a falsehood, your highness." You protested, making Oberyn and his audience laugh. "I was in a panic. I was so fearful I would not reach her in time."
"What is a skirmish if not an opportunity to embellish?" The prince teased. "As I was saying, Ser Shieldove utilized one of the many tactics she learned in her knightly training…" While Oberyn prattled on, you felt his hand rest idly on your leg. You barely kept from leaping out of your skin when he gripped down a little tighter, his fingers rubbing circles through the gossamer of your gown and the fabric of your hosiery.
"More wine?" Ellaria asked sweetly, refilling your goblet before you even had the chance to nod. 
"Thank you, my lady." You cocked your head to the side. "Are you well? I hope the babe does not grieve you."
Her lovely laughter, combined with the hypnotic press and drag of Oberyn's fingers, made you wish that you could stay where you were forever. "I have done this four times before, my falcon. Or should I say, Ser Shieldove?" She chuckled. "I am prepared for whatever discomfort this little one sees fit to inflict upon me."
You smiled at her, stating sincerely, "I am in awe of you, Lady Ellaria." 
"Of me? Whatever for?" She asked in surprise. 
"Your willingness to bear children. It is...I do not know if I would ever have the strength for such an endeavor." You admitted softly, leaning in a little. "Your joy is pure and rare, unlike anything I have ever witnessed. You are practically aglow. It makes my heart ache and sing all at once, to see you so happy."
Ellaria took your hands in her own, clasping them to her heart. "Ser Shieldove, your flattery has not lost its edge." She murmured, her eyes bright. "Though I know your duties may take you elsewhere, when you have a moment of respite, I...would be more than willing to have one of my midwives explain certain things to you. I understand that fear of the unknown keeps many in the darkness."
Your heart buckled in your chest, hope and terror at war with one another. "I know not whether I...that is, I am uncertain if I am able, Lady Ellaria." You replied in a hushed tone. 
Ellaria nodded, her expression saddened. "I know, sweet dove." After a moment, she rose to her feet. "Oberyn, lover, will you accompany Ser Shieldove and myself to the water gardens?" 
The prince immediately rose and you floundered to do the same, caught off-guard by the sudden request. "Of course, my love." Oberyn's tone was light, but you couldn't shake the notion that he had been waiting for her to say something.
His hand stayed on the small of her back the entire stroll to the gardens, and you found yourself envious of those fingers, envious of her skin. To know such gentle touch, to be able to touch so gently…
During the day the pools were alive with the sound of children of all ages, laughing and splashing about in the refreshing waters. But here and now, the only sounds were the wind stirring the water's surface and the low, inquisitive calls of the bullfrogs. Ellaria settled onto a bench, patting the stone beside her after a moment. You sank down in an unwieldy mass of delicate fabrics, longing for your armor. The dress was beautiful, but it drew so much attention.
"Speak to us, sweet dove." Ellaria implored, taking your hands in her own again. "We would know what troubles you in regards to these delicate matters, without fear of judgement or embarrassment." 
Oberyn cleared his throat, large hands framing Ellaria's shoulders. "The merrymaking of the evening cannot erase the furrow of contemplation from your brow, my falcon." 
You hesitated, staring down at Ellaria's hands wrapped around your own. Her fingers were slender, delicate. "I see the two of you, how tender you are with one another and I wonder if...I wonder whether I might ever find such companionship." You shrugged helplessly. "I am unskilled in these matters. Gregor was...the only one. I do not know if I could ever subject myself to...if I could ever…" You trailed off, biting your lip.
Oberyn muttered an oath under his breath and then quickly apologized, continuing on to say, "Brave, fierce falcon. You were dealt a terrible wound the day that monster stole you away. I had wondered why you did not accept the propositions offered to you by many of the other knights, but I merely assumed it was a difference of our cultures." 
You shook your head shyly. "No, your highness. I find their attentions flattering, yet frightening for this very reason." You were dealt a terrible wound. Oberyn regarding it as such, instead of simply as a normal occurrence for a woman to overcome, was strangely heartening. "Perhaps the wound lingers, festers beneath my skin. Perhaps I shall never be gentle again, and never know myself what such gentleness feels like." You thought aloud, voicing your worst fears. "Perhaps my life will be nothing but roughness and the whirling tumult of battle, my only chance thieved away from me."
"Oh, my sweet dove." Ellaria sounded distraught and you turned your attention to her, surprised when you saw her weeping. Her hands cupped your jaw, tugging you close enough to rest your forehead against her own. "You have such an immense capacity for love, daughter-defender. My heart breaks at the thought of you locking yourself away out of fear." 
"My lady…" Tears welled up in your own eyes and you tried to wipe them away hastily.
Oberyn shifted to the side, his arms wrapped loosely around both you and his paramour. "Do you watch us often, my dove?" He asked quietly. "Does it bring you peace to see how we exist together and with others, as easily as rising in the morning?"
Your throat ached with your tears. "The way that you touch her, your highness-"
"My body was designed solely for the pleasure of my lovers, sweet dove." Oberyn informed you, his deep brown eyes unbearably soft in the dim light of the lanterns. "It is a weapon on the battlefield, but never in the bedroom. Even if I come at my lovers with passion, there is not and should not be fear."
"I am a knight of House Martell, and yet I cringe at something so mundane!" You tried to jest, tried to smile.
"Many a warrior is thrown from a horse once and refuses to ever ride again." Oberyn pointed out, his hand absently stroking over your hair in a calming motion. "If an action has only ever caused you agony, you learn to avoid it." Ellaria tugged at Oberyn's sleeve, whispering in his ear when he bent lower. The prince smiled after a moment, nodding. "Of course. Whatever you like, my love." He agreed.
"Sweet dove, at some point in the future I would like to invite you to witness us in our bed chamber," said Ellaria, the words from her mouth damning and sweet as honey. "We are comfortable with an audience and multiple partners, as you are well aware. We would be more than happy to display the way certain acts ought to be performed." She laughed after a moment. "Truly, if I get much larger I may have no recourse but to ask for assistance when my cravings grow too raw!"
You swallowed, then inhaled raggedly. How long were you planning on languishing in this manner? Ignoring your desires out of fear and anxiety over what had transpired? Though Oberyn had assuaged your feelings of inadequacy, you no longer wanted to be the warrior thrown from your horse. You were a knight of House Martell, in soul and now in title. "I would be honored to witness such a thing, my lady." You croaked out, wincing and clearing your throat awkwardly. 
Oberyn's smile was a fond one, the man placing a kiss on his paramour's forehead. "Never fear, falcon. We shall not push you further than you can go."
Some weeks later, the battlemaster woke you out of a sound sleep, his tone one of long suffering. "Prince Oberyn seeks your council, Ser Shieldove. He bade you wear your armor, but bring no weapons."
Your mind whirled. Had something happened? Gods, Ellaria-
You weren't certain if you had ever donned your armor faster. It was scarcely ten minutes before you were striding through the airy halls, your tunic rustling beneath your light armor and mail. No weapons, he had said. What manner of exercise could this possibly be?
The prince flung open the doors of his chambers when you approached, his expression tight yet grateful. "I apologize for rousing you at such a late hour, my falcon." 
You dropped to a knee in typical salute. "What has transpired, Prince Oberyn?"
"Ellaria believed that tonight would be a good night for you to...witness. That being said, she wished for your assistance." The man said delicately. "My love is--ah, how to say this without being crass. She is swollen with child, and yet she craves a certain position." Oberyn raised his eyes to your own. "She reasoned that your strength would be sufficient to keep her balance while she indulges."
Your mouth went dry. "M-My strength?" You stammered. He nodded, studying you intently. His heavy gaze alone had you smoldering, had you nodding without thinking twice. He gestured you onwards into their private chambers, closing the doors after you.
Ellaria, her form barely concealed by the thin curtains of their bed, called your name so sweetly. Like a sinner to judgement you crept close, eyes averted from her nudity. "My dove, there is no shame here." She crooned, one finger beneath your chin urging your attentions to her body. Her kiss to your forehead was gentle, her heavy breasts pressed against your armor with her closeness. 
"Lady Ellaria." you breathed, wanting more than anything to greedily embrace her in your arms, shield her from the world. No one deserved to even look at her, no one--
Except Oberyn, of course. The prince was leaning easily against one of the banisters, one ankle tucked over the other while he observed his paramour with a blissful expression. Only Oberyn. Your heart ached, full enough to burst with your unspoken affection for the prince and his beloved. 
"The prince said you requested my presence, my lady?"
"I want you to see us, my dove." Ellaria said simply. "I may require your assistance, but until then…" She beckoned Oberyn closer and did not finish her sentence. 
The prince cupped her face and kissed her passionately, his smile curved against her lips. Once he was done, however, he turned to you. The bristle of his mustache met your forehead, grazing the skin teasingly before he kissed it. "A kiss from a prince. Let us hope you do not turn into a frog!" He said with a grin.
Ellaria's fingers kneaded at his light dressing gown, spurring him to peel and discard the garment. "Come, Ser Shieldove. Sit on the side of the bed and watch us." She implored.
"Are you certain, my lady?" You asked, hesitation plain in your voice even as your fingers twined greedily into their rich bedspread. "It is not...distracting that I am here?"
"Far from it." Oberyn grunted, chucking you under the chin. "It is a rare treat, to have my devastating falcon in the same bed as my lovely paramour. I will not involve you beyond function, of course, not without your consent. You are the audience tonight, and Ellaria wishes to show you the tender acts I inflict upon her."
You did not trust your voice to reply. You knew logically that there was no possibility of Oberyn causing her harm. You watched his hands, the shift of the candlelight shadows playing across the olive skin. Oberyn was languid in nearly every aspect of his life aside from training and battle, so it was no great shock that he was slow in his approach as well. 
He trailed a single finger down between Ellaria's bare breasts, over the swell of her stomach. Your hands fisted tight enough to ache in the bedspread when Ellaria crooned to him, the sunset-hued fabric wrinkling in your grasp. You were entranced, enthralled as surely as if you had been under some spell. 
"Lover, please…" Ellaria begged, and oh! Her voice was the sweetest music, a wine heady and luxuriant. How did Oberyn resist her? How did he temper his longing, when all you wanted to do upon hearing her ask once was fall to pieces?
"She knows I will satisfy her." Oberyn said softly, as though he had read your thoughts. He lowered his mouth to her breast and her fingers found his hair, cradling him close. His hand wandered lower and lower, seeking out the wetness that had built between her thighs. 
Your gorget threatened to choke you when you swallowed convulsively at Ellaria's trembling sob of pleasure, the prince shooting you a smirk from his prime seating.
"I think our falcon has taken a shine to your mewling, my love." He informed Ellaria quietly. His hand spread her wide, fingers lewdly displaying her plush entrance slick and pink, delicious--you caught yourself leaning in and quickly jerked upright. 
Ellaria noticed your interest, if her moan was any indicator. One hand left Oberyn's hair and reached out over the blankets to you, fingers extended as far as they could go. She fell just shy inches from your arm, blindly fumbling. 
Oberyn carefully scooped her hand back up, kissing her knuckles. "We do not touch her, my love." He reminded her. "Until you need her help to take me, and even then. Our falcon, our dove, she is a warrior, not a plaything." He glanced over at you, his expression mischievous. "It is enough that she wishes to touch you already, my love." His fingers plunged into her cunt and gods, she was wet enough to hear. 
Your thighs clenched and you felt shameful, like an intruder, but Oberyn hummed as if to draw your averted gaze to where his fingers plundered her slick folds. 
"She is much more sensitive when she is bearing." He sounded a little breathless, his dark eyes nearly black in the dimmed lighting. "I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain."
"Two or three?" You echoed him in doubt, your voice rasping in your throat when Ellaria's back arched off the bed. She cried out and Oberyn moaned with her, his own enthusiasm evident in the way he claimed her mouth with his. She was beautiful, skin flushed and damp with sweat, and he was so gentle with her.
"I need you now, lover. I cannot wait, please, please-" Ellaria implored against his lips, and the tender way he soothed her hair back from her forehead made your chest ache. "I have missed you beneath me, my sweet Oberyn."
"And I have missed you, my divine Ellaria." Oberyn helped her kneel, then gestured you closer. "If you wrap your arms around her midsection--"
"Is that safe?" You interrupted warily, concern destroying your propriety. Oberyn just chuckled, rolling off of the bed to divest himself of his pants. You fought the urge to bury your face in Ellaria's neck out of embarrassment.
"Sweet dove," Ellaria's hand cupped your burning cheek. "If this is not to your liking…"
"Of course it--I mean, if-if I...what if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?" You mumbled. "Men act as though we are unreasonably delicate for expecting an ounce of caution, yet we endure so much at their whim."
Ellaria interlaced her fingers with your own, bringing your palms to her defined hips. "I will not break, my gentle dove." She stated, a defiant toss of her head serving to drive her words home. She was the devoted paramour of Prince Oberyn, after all! Already mother to four of his children, soon to be five. 
Oberyn knelt on the bed and you couldn't help the way your eyes devoured him. His hair tousled, mouth still red from hungry kisses, lean body on full display. The member that hung between his legs had your breath hitching with a mixture of vague apprehension and arousal, how-
You tore your eyes away, tucking your nose in the thick waves of Ellaria's hair as your thighs flexed yet again. She smelled of comfort, of citrus and the spiced strongwine from their evening meal. Ellaria sighed, relaxing her weight back into your arms. "You are so warm, sweet dove."
Oberyn's hand stroked your cheek and you were unable to conceal your flinch. "Do not fear me, gentle dove. I would never harm in the bedroom; here, I am no longer the Red Viper." His tone was grave, and you saw sorrow in his eyes when you dared to look up. "I am simply a man hopelessly in love." His hands covered your own, tightening your grip on Ellaria's hips. "Now, help my paramour to rend me as she sees fit."
You did as you were asked, feeling the anticipatory tremor that ran through Ellaria's body. She wanted him. She yearned for him, canting her hips as far as she could to draw him close. But Oberyn was thorough, coaxing her thighs apart inch by inch and laving her hot skin with thousands upon thousands of adoring kisses. She was on the verge of collapse before he even deigned to lay down beneath her, and now you understood your place in their endeavor. 
She sank down onto his cock without hesitation, a breathless whine of delight leaving her lips while her head lolled back against your shoulder. Oberyn's cry in response was low, wanting, the prince's chest heaving as he thrust up into her. "Ellaria, you beautiful fucking woman." He seethed through his teeth, "Help her take me, my falcon, hold her steady while she tears me apart."
"Oberyn!" Ellaria sobbed, clinging to your arms while he urged her hips forward and back to ride his cock.
"If she wishes for another child, she entices me by laying on her stomach and beckoning me near." Oberyn informed you lazily between arching his hips up to meet his paramour. "When she does I am but her willing stud horse, lost to breed. Her hips fit perfectly in my hands and she begs me so sweetly for another babe, another little one to bring to her breast and nourish. My Ellaria, my beautiful, precious Ellaria." 
Oberyn reached up, his eyes so warm and fond as he cradled Ellaria's face in his large palms. You buried your face in Ellaria's hair again, not wanting either of them to notice the tears threatening to spill over. 
Ellaria nuzzled against his fingers, coaxing a ragged groan out of Oberyn. "Lover, you always know what to do to make my body sing for you." She breathed, planting her hands on his chest and circling her hips. Oberyn swore and gritted his teeth, his head falling back against the pillows. "But I would much rather you sing for me instead."
The prince's voice broke wordlessly in his throat, the noise sharp with longing. Your eyes widened and your whole body tensed at the sound, warmth coating the worn trews between your legs. What…? You had never experienced such a rapid reaction, and all it had been was a simple groan! Your grip on Ellaria tightened unconsciously and she moaned your name, her body pushing back against your armored chest as she rose up onto her knees. 
Oberyn fairly growled at her, one hand clutching at her thigh while the other delved between her legs. She cried out and you could feel her body spasm when he found her center, hips undulating hard to grind herself against his palm. "Come for me, my love, drench me." Oberyn encouraged softly. "Tear my seed from my body, milk me with that divine cunt of yours."
His heated words made you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest. Ellaria tilted her face into your neck, her panting, breathy cries whispering over your skin and making you wish more than anything that you were the one causing them-
She went taut in your hold and you watched Oberyn watch her come with the same blissful expression on his face that he had sported earlier. It was as if his own release was an afterthought, the prince humming to echo Ellaria's incoherent whimpering while he shifted his hips restlessly beneath her. "Keep gripping me, my love, keep-" Oberyn bucked up hard, hands covering your own on her hips to keep her still when he buried himself in her again. His shoulders tensed, thighs trembling as he came with a shuddering gasp of her name. 
Gods, you wished it was your name he spoke with such passion!
Ellaria nearly collapsed, your arms around her the only thing keeping her upright. "I have you." You breathed, cradling her back against your chest. "I have you."
The other woman blinked up at you sleepily, one shaking hand raising to stroke over your hair. "Thank you, Ser Shieldove." She whispered. Oberyn clapped her thigh, carefully tilting her hips and closing her legs once he slipped out from beneath her. 
"Steady, I need to fetch a cloth." He instructed you, nearly staggering when he rose from the bed. "Gods, Ellaria, you will make me swoon one of these days." Oberyn continued, half-laughing and shaking his head. He wrapped his light robe back around his body, looping the belt once and then abandoning it.
You hid your face at the sight of him stretching languidly, his lithe and golden form barely covered by the haphazardly-tied dressing gown. "You can look at him, you know." Ellaria sighed in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "He loves being observed. He preens." She confided, chuckling softly. 
"What are you telling her, my love?" Oberyn called from the washbasin, shooting her a suspicious glance.
"Nothing, lover." Ellaria winked up at you, relaxing into your arms a bit more. "Nothing at all."
"Now, my falcon. Is it your turn?" Oberyn asked conversationally while he tenderly bathed Ellaria's intimate area. The other woman hadn't stopped squirming, trembling beneath his careful ministrations even as she clung to you. 
Panic seized your body at the idea of being naked, being vulnerable, exposed, and despite the hard work the both of them had done, you found yourself shaking your head violently. 
Oberyn simply laughed, dismissing his own words as a jest and easily soothing your terror. 
...
When you returned to your quarters later that evening, you could not remove your armor fast enough. Clad in only your underthings, you slumped into the chair beside your bed and put your head in your hands. 
I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain.
Ellaria's wanton cries rang softly in your ears. The way she had sought him out with her body, sought to be cherished, claimed-
You are so warm, sweet dove.
You flushed hot, rubbing frantically at your eyes. Gods, the way the two of them praised each other, praised you...it hurt, it made your body throb. You bit back a sound of pain, your eyes watering. To be loved by someone, to have their love in return...well, that is what all the songs and stories of man were about! 
Yet here you sat on the outskirts of a camp you dared not approach, gazing at the raging bonfire of someone else's affection. 
And you envied, with a ferocity that made your jaw ache from how tight you clenched it.
Envied Oberyn, for being a prince, being free to do as he wished, being able to trace secret patterns over Ellaria's skin as often as he pleased. Envied Ellaria, for being brave, being so effortlessly sensual, being able to bring Oberyn to heights of ecstasy that you could not even dream of.
You felt like a child that had been happily playing pretend, only to have a bucket of cold water thrown on you.
Your fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing over the scarring there. No, you would never know, would you? You would never know the true depth of another's love. You were not destined for such things, and you had been foolish to grasp for them in the first place.
You had been greedy, overeager to voyeur on the prince and his paramour due to your deep admiration of and attraction to the couple. This was hardly behavior befitting a knight of House Martell! You would have to do better in the future, instead of taking advantage of the generosity extended to you in good faith. All Ellaria and Oberyn had wanted to do was help you, and you had turned it into some lewd fantasy. 
You shook your head at your own thoughts, thoroughly disgusted. You would tear down everything good that you ever had, just to delude yourself into believing you could be bedded by a prince of Dorne and his beautiful lady.
Part Two
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chayacat · 3 years
Text
Devil’s Sweet Star (25)
Fandom: Dead by Daylight
Ghostface x Female Reader  
Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  
***
Trust. When you are in a relationship, with friends or family, trust is the essential thing to make everything go well, in addition to fidelity for the case of a couple. When you trust someone, you tell them about your fears, your doubts, your suspicions, everything you want to talk about and you know that the person we're talking to, help us or keep it all to him. In the context of work, trust is also important! It’s above all the centerpiece of a good company. A company where all employees have trust in each other and their bosses is a good company, whatever it is.
Sometimes trust is put to the test. Some succeed and see their success rewarded by a stronger friendship, a more united couple, more close-knit colleagues. Others fail and see everything they have earned so far crumble. But trust can unfortunately also be a weapon of manipulation. How many people in this world have betrayed other people in the name of their personal interests? Far too much, unfortunately. Making someone believe that they can trust you, to betray them better afterwards is one of the most horrible things that can happen. Because then you don't trust others anymore, you see bad people everywhere and believing someone is almost impossible.
But sometimes... Fear surpasses reason and trust. When something bad happens to you... something horrible, you're afraid of the judgment of others. Because sometimes even your closest friends, who you can trust the most can hurt you. You are afraid of the reaction of your soul mate because even if you know him for years, you never know how he will take what you will tell him. And in your case.... It's very complicated.
For several days now, you've been making the hundred steps in your head. Stressed, worried, even terrified of the reaction that Jed might have if you ever tell him that Ghostface.... almost stole your virginity.  What would he think of you? Would he blame you? Would he be heartbroken that you didn't tell him about it before? you've been in a relationship for a short time, but still... Jed is a lovely boy whose character you don't know. He doesn't seem like the type to get upset but beware, the quieter ones are usually the most dangerous. And when they explode... it's better not to stand next to them.
“What do I do? What can I do? And most of all, what am I going to do if he takes it badly?? I don't want to destroy such a young relationship... I never want that to happen anyway! but... if Jed took it badly.... I wouldn't know what to do. Or say.” You said to yourself, terrified to see Jed leave you and never talk to you again.
“Uh... Excuse me miss... I'm here to do the job interview. I'm not late?”
You raise your head to face a young woman, who was holding papers in her hands. Since you posted your job offer, several people have contacted you to get the job. You have juggled several CVs and cover letters and have retained only 6 of them. For two places. It was very hard to choose from all these people... they all had interesting CVs, but you couldn't keep them all. the coffee is not very big after all.
“Not at all, you arrive right on time! Please sit down.” you said to the young girl before taking her papers gently. “Amy... I saw in your CV that you had done a lot of studies in sales as well as an apprenticeship in pastry. I also saw that you had worked a little in the sale. You know, this café is new, and it's a lifelong project. I want to go as far as possible with this coffee and be able to entrust it to someone trustworthy. You understand?”  
“Of course! Don't worry, if you recruit me, I promise to make sure that my work is only beneficial to your coffee! I promise to ensure a service worthy of your establishment and to respect the rules and practices that you apply.” respond Amy, a little stressed, looking at his hands from time to time.  
“Ha ha you can relax don't worry! I'm not going to eat you! I'm a very nice person, believe me.”
“Sorry... It's just that... my former boss fired me because I didn't follow the rules when it was all the opposite! He said I was an idiot and an incompetent...”
“Well, I'll never tell you that. You're here to learn, and I know you're going to make mistakes. But it doesn't matter! It's by learning from one's failures that one becomes better. And if that doesn't work out, you can always tell me about it. I will never demean an employee.” you replied with a smile.  
You both continue to talk for a little while and then Amy left the café smiling, relieved that her job interview finally went well. An hour later, it is the turn of another person, a young man to pass his interview. Compared to Amy, he'd already work in a café, as a waiter. He found himself unemployed because the café in question had closed by judicial liquidation. He had had a hard time finding work in this domain because in his area, coffees were scarce, there were mostly bars. That was one of the reasons why he came to live here. He really wanted to work here but would understand if you took someone else. He used to it now.  
But you reassure him by telling him to not lose hope. That he always ends up finding a job even if it's not in what he knows. He gave you a slight smile while rubbing the back of the skull and then, like Amy, he left the café after an hour. You stretch while blowing a good shot before you get up to serve yourself a fresh fruit juice. As you begin to serve yourself, lost in your thoughts, you startle slightly when you feel two hands taking you by the waist. Then a slight laugh that you would recognize between a thousand. You turn to do that Jed who was always so adorable with his eyes and angelic smile.  
“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... You look exhausted. Did these interviews go well?” He asks, dropping a quick kiss and getting you closer to him.
“It went very well even. I've already talked to each of them, and their profile is interesting, it's going to be very difficult to choose.”  you respond, kissing him back.  
“I know you're going to make it. You don't have to feel guilty about those you can't take. You have to think you can't hire a lot of people right now. But later who knows you can expand? You know what I'd do? I'll keep the CVs of everyone you refuse. Maybe you'll never know you'll have more jobs to fill in the future?”
“I think that's what I'm going to do! Thank you very much Jed. What about you? Do you get along with Wilhelm?” you replied, laughing a little.
“Well, if I'm still here and I'm not in jail... we can say that we can get along with both of us. But believe me sometimes I would like to be sick, to not see him all day ... Are you sure you're, okay? You really don't look good. Do you want to talk about it?” He said, worried about your sad face.
Is this really a good time to talk about it? That's the question. One day or another, he will know. And the later he finds out, the more he'll be mad at you. That's what you think anyway. But if you tell him now... he might take it badly too. Tears began to flow down your face. Jed took you against him, reassuring you as best he could. He exuded a reassuring aura, in his arms, nothing could happen to you. You felt it. He would protect you to death if he had to. You can trust him.
“I am here. Tell me what's wrong, my love. Something bad happened?” asks Jed.
“You promise you won't get mad?” you said, worried.  
“I promise.”
“The other night.... Ghostface came to see me... again. He spoke to me... he absolutely wants to make me his... his accomplice. And then he... he pinned me against the wall. he undressed me and he almost... he almost...” you said before crying, hiding your face in your hands, shameful of what almost happened.
“Hey...look at me.” he simply said.
You raise your head to look at him straight in the eye. But it's not anger or anything else that you see on his face... but sweetness.
“You should have told me sooner. I could have done something to protect you. Maybe I could have faced him. If you trust me, then you must tell me when things aren't going well. All right? Never forget that I'd always be there for you.” He said softly, kissing your forehead.  
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” you said drying your tears.
“You know what? Tonight, you're sleeping at home. I'm not leaving you alone with this sick man again. We're going to have an evening just between the two of us and no one else. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you, is that clear? No one. You've finished your interviews, so we can go do whatever you want, relax. You don't have to think about that. You must be strong, show him that you are not afraid and that you will never be afraid of him.”  
You smile at him before kissing him and snuggling up in his arms. You could tell if it was luck or that it was predicted, but you are happy to have met him. Few men, like him, react in this way. But what you don't see my dear... it's the smirk, even unhealthy smile of "Jed" spreading on his face. If only you knew my little... If only you know. But even if you ever find out... It'll be too late. You are completely trapped in his web, and he will never let you escape. Never.
You both leave the café, after your usual surveillance ritual of course, and you spend the rest of the day together. First you go to a bookstore, in order to expand your library. And we can say that you did not take 3 small books ... but a good dozen. You'll be busy with all that for quite a while. Jed had done the same, especially detective novels. You also take the opportunity to buy CDs. And surprisingly, Jed listens to rock. Looking at him, you didn't think he'd listen to this style of music, you expected jazz. Maybe he's listening to it too! But imagining Jed at a rock concert is pretty funny in itself.
Then you do some shopping for tonight's meal: salmon pavement with rice, and a sauce... to fall to the ground. And whipped strawberries for dessert. A good meal in perspective with the one you love. You both go back to Jed's apartment, even if before you go to your apartment to deposit your purchases. Then you go back to Jed's and start preparing everything.
“I didn't know you were listening to rock. I thought you were more... Jazz or whatever.” you said with a smile.
“Well, when I was in college... rock has often allowed me to escape a little. I felt safe, cut off from the outside world when I needed it. I also listened to jazz but... rock helped me a lot. Carla also thought it was weird that I listened to it. It's true that when I see myself... we don't think about that kind of music at all.” Respond Jed, cooking the salmon and rice.  
“You are a man full of surprise... I like that. You need help?”  
“I just need you to take care of cooking the rice while I take care of the sauce, you'll see... you won't move from your chair. And you should wash the strawberries, too. Put them in a bowl filled with water and leave them in, I have cups in this closet.”
You take care of the rice and strawberries, then set the table. Once everything is ready, you spend the evening laughing and chatting while eating. It was good for you. You needed a little breath. And with Jed, you feel like you'll always have them. Even though the evening was cut off for a while by Jed's job, everything went very well and you both end up on the couch watching a movie... pretty dumb.
“Why in this kind of movie, girls are big fools who get killed by the murderer? frankly they can't put strong women for once?” you said, crossing your arms.  
“These were the movies of the time, where the real hero is the bad guy and or the first to die is either the stupid girl or the shy little geek...unfortunately.” Respond Jed with a little laugh.
“But I know that if we were in this kind of situation... You'd protect me. And that for once, the little nerd would be the hero.”
“Beware that the little nerd doesn't eat you raw. If you know what I mean.”
You hit Jed's arm, which laughed before kissing you. Then as the film progresses you feel tiredness invading you. Little by little, your eyes closed. You feel two arms lift you and carry you to bed. You open your eyes slightly to see Jed change. You also change, pricking one of his t-shirts to make pyjamas for the night. Then he comes to bed and takes you in his arms.
“Tell me you always sleep in a boxer or do you still have something a little warmer for cold nights?” you ask with a small voice.
“Well... as long as it's not autumn, yes. Then I have what it takes when the cold weather arrives. But if you live with me... then being able to hold me against you all nights will always warm me up.” He answers with a smile.
“How adorable. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about... You know what. I was really scared...”
“Forget it. But from now on, you'll have to warn me when things aren't going well. Good night, my angel.”
On these beautiful words, you both fall asleep, each in the arms of the other. That aura of protection that Jed exuded reassured you, soothed you. But if you knew that your dear boyfriend was also the murderer of Roseville... That from the beginning you have dated your potential executioner ... You'd be scared.
And the trust you place in him will fly away. But it's too late now.
You can't go back. You're stuck with the devil.
By your own will.  
***
(Well at least I made it right on time! As I said in the last chapter, from May 5th to May 7th, I'll not be there. So Chapter 26 will be released on Friday, May 14th! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others! I will now rest my brain. Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)
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transromansanders · 3 years
Text
Moceit Au similar to the one @sidespart made that I'm working on writing for, but darker and kind of role-swapped?
Warnings: murder, abuse, kidnapping, guns, gunshot wounds, threat of dying, no actial major character death.
Janus is a serial killer, a black widow so to speak, having married a string of rich men and killed all of them. The first time was because he had gotten married far too fast and far too young and was being abused, but after that he started marrying rich immoral men with the intention of killing them.
Patton is a little different than his previous targets. He's younger, and he has four young children (Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Remus). But he's rich, so Janus reasons he must have done something terrible to get that way.
They meet at a hotel where Janus knows Patton is staying for a business trip and have a whirlwind romance, mostly one-sided, except Janus can't help but find Patton's goofiness oddly charming. He still keeps his distance, emotionally, because he's convinced Patton is just like his previous husbands. They're engaged before Patton even has the chance to introduce Janus to his sons.
Then Patton takes Janus to his home for the first time, and it's... surprisingly humble? I mean, obviously it's more than big enough for a family of five-about-to-be-six, but it isn't the mansion that Janus was expecting. And the kids, he had no idea they were actually like... a family. He thought Patton had probably just adopted them for good publicity, but they really love their dad, and their uncles, Emile and Remy, who take care of them when Patton goes on business trips. And Virgil and Logan are immediately suspicious of Janus' intentions, while Roman and Remus think their new father-to-be is the best thing since sliced bread. And they have dinner together, and Janus moves in over the next week, and everything feels good and happy and wholesome. Janus finds out that Patton actually donates a lot of his money to worthwhile charities, often picked by Logan and Virgil, the oldest two of the children. During the planning of the wedding, everything seems to be going smoothly, and as the wedding gets closer, Janus realizes he can't kill Patton. He panics and makes plans to leave town the day before the wedding.
Two days before the wedding, though, a police detective and his partner knock on the door of Patton's home asking for Janus. Virgil is the one who answers the door, and by now he's grown attached to Janus. So he starts to panic. Logan runs over and demands to know what these strange men did to Virgil while at the same time trying to comfort his brother. Then one of them flashes his badge, and Logan takes Virgil to get Patton. Patton tries to find out what's going on, but all that they'll tell him is that they need to question Janus.
By now the whole household has come to see what's going on. Janus steps forward, refusing to look at or speak to Patton, and goes with the men.
Big mistake. As he finds out as soon as they're out of view of the house, these men are not police. They rough him up pretty badly and tie him up, and take him to a warehouse. There, he is confronted by the younger brother of one of his victims. He's beaten up some more, and then told this is where he dies. And he supposes it's fitting, that he dies before he can hurt Patton and his family... not just Patton's family, Janus' too. And he has this epiphany, a moment of clarity in which he realizes he loves Patton and those children and that he will not let this be how it ends. So he does what he does best. He talks, persuades, coaxes, until they aren't on the subject of killing him anymore. He buys himself enough time to escape the ropes—he's unfortunately had to do that before—then wrestles the gun from one of the fake police before they even really realize what's happening. He points the gun at his captor's head and demands an apology, demands that the man beg for his life. He shoots both fake police in the leg, then his captor in the shoulder, keeping the gun pointed at them as he leaves.
Meanwhile, Patton's gone to the police station and figured out that Janus isn't there, so now the actual police are looking for Janus to rescue him. They pick up a limping, exhausted Janus on the side of the road, and Janus assumes he's going to prison for the rest of his life or worse, but they take him to the hospital, and then he's being treated for his injuries, and soon Patton and the kids are there, and he tells Patton to have the kids wait outside, and he breaks down and confesses everything to his fiance. He says he understands if Patton hates him, but then Patton's hugging him, reassuring him that he did what he had to and what he thought was right. He promises to never tell a soul, and that if the law catches up with Janus they'll figure it out.
They postpone the wedding until Janus is doing better, and it's a lovely affair, far more intimate and magical than any of Janus' previous weddings. Emile is Patton's best man, and Remy is Janus', Virgil and Logan are groomsmen, Roman and Remus are the ring bearers. Janus wears a white suit with a pale yellow bow tie. Patton wears a black suit with a pale blue bow tie. Both wear roses on their lapels, red to symbolize their love. Their something old is Patton's father’s cufflinks, something new is a drawing the twins made of what they wanted the wedding to look like tucked in Janus' pocket (their drawing has far more unicorns than the actual wedding, but they're fine with the general lack of unicorns as long as they get cake), their something borrowed is Emile's wedding veil, pinned in Janus' hair, and their something blue is Janus' socks, although Patton's tie could count too. When they kiss, there isn't a dry eye in the room. Their first dance is to the song Calico Skies by Paul McCartney. Their wedding cake is a classic white cake with buttercream frosting, decorated with piped yellow and blue flowers. As neither of them really have family outside of each other and the kids and Emile and Remy, Emile dances a dance with Patton, and Logan with Janus. Then the other three insist on all dancing with Janus at once. It's very cute. Janus may or may not cry.
The law never does catch up with Janus. And Patton convinces him eventually to go to therapy to discuss the abuse he endured. And the kids grow up in a happy home with two loving fathers.
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needtherapy · 4 years
Text
soaring, carried aloft on the wind
A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.
The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.
In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.
He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.
Part 1: 1 /  2 / ...  HOME
It’s on AO3 here if that’s easier to read.
NOTES: This story starts out G but will eventually be E for Explicit. My everlasting and undying thanks to @coslyons​ and AO3′s amazing mongrelmind for their beta reads.
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Part 1 Opaira
opaira [ō-pī’rä], noun Love based on attraction and sexual passion 
Chapter 1
Despite the rough callus that stretches the entire length of his finger, the Beifeng warlord’s touch is warm and gentle when he tips Xichen’s chin up. Xichen represses an involuntary shiver, reminding himself that the callus was made from the bow that has killed hundreds if not thousands of his countrymen. He thinks of water flowing over stone and does not move.
The warlord—even in his thoughts, Xichen will not use the name of this man who now owns him—looks more curious than fearsome, turning Xichen’s head in appraisal, lifting a lock of his hair and rubbing it between his fingers. Unexpectedly, he smooths his thumb across the unblemished skin of Xichen’s cheek, skin no man has ever touched so brazenly. A smile flickers across his lips when he looks Xichen in the eyes and Xichen stubbornly refuses to look away. Before he can react, the warlord leans down and brushes his mouth against Xichen’s. He feels like he’s been struck, pinpricks of light fluttering in his stomach, and he freezes for the heartbeat they are pressed together. 
It is Xichen’s first kiss.
The warlord makes a low sound of approval before he moves away and nods with a flurry of words Xichen doesn’t understand.
A different voice translates.
“Elder Brother says the gift of the Cloud Recesses is accepted. A messenger will be sent.” More gently, the voice adds, “Your cities will be left unscathed.”
The boy who speaks Xichen’s language looks younger than Wangji, small and soft, more like a pampered child than a warrior, which is not what Xichen would have expected for this tribe of barbarians. He wonders if Elder Brother is a literal or figurative relationship.
Gift, he thinks, as though there was some beauty in this transaction. As though it is a willing offering his family had chosen to make. Still, Xichen thinks grimly, it is an appropriate word, even if not for the reasons the warlord thinks. It is a gift he is giving to someone he loves, and he will not regret it.
Chapter 2
Xichen did not know what to do with his brother’s tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his brother cry. It must have been when they were still children, when tears were still an acceptable reaction to emotion. Tears were not valued in the Cloud Recesses, or at least, not valued by their father, and even when their mother had died, Wangji had not shown grief where anyone else could see it.
Crouching in front of Wangji, Xichen touched his brother’s foot. He was afraid any comfort he offered would be an embarrassment, but he couldn’t bear to hear the hitching gasps of breath Wangji tried to suppress or see the crumpled sorrow on his face as he sat on a bench under a sprawling plum tree, knees drawn up defensively. 
They were only a year apart in age, and they had always been close—twin jades, people called them. The same black hair, the same light eyes, the same talent for hiding their true sentiments. Xichen tried not to be hurt by Wangji’s recoil, the shift to hide his face away.
“Wangji?” he asked hesitantly, not expecting words, but hoping at least for some explanation. In answer, his brother handed him a piece of paper.
Xichen read it. So few words, and yet, each one was a knife in his heart. He fought to control his fury, digging his fingernails into his palm for something else to focus on.
He knew—had always known—that a younger sibling’s primary value was as an advantage in negotiations, and yet somehow, he had thought his brother would not be forced into a union that was merely political. The Lan clan of Gusu was one of the seven largest clans. Their allegiances lasted for generations instead of changing yearly. They weren’t one of the minor clans who gained territory and protected their borders through regular skirmishes and bloodshed, and they did not make treaties imprudently.
As his father said on a nearly monthly basis, “We do not concern ourselves with the petty squabbles of smaller clans,” although that was only true if the smaller clans did not have a resource of value, like the Yunmeng and their purple dye or the Zhao and their tea.
If Wangji had been his sister, he might have been married years ago to secure an alliance, seal a trade agreement, or to smooth the way for some other favorable arrangement. But he was a skilled military commander, and the invasion from the Beifeng empire of the north had allowed him to remain unattached these past two years, despite being of marriageable age. As heir, Xichen had more choices, but he knew that he, too, would eventually have to do his duty to his clan. Once he was clan leader, he had assumed he would be able to keep his brother safe.
However, the war was going badly. The war had been going badly from the beginning. The child emperor had all but sealed himself in his impregnable fortress as the vast army of the Beifeng had slowly but surely pressed south, toppling the Nightless City of Qishan, defeating the mighty Yao of Qinghe and consuming every clan in between. Even the Ouyang, a clan of deadly assassins, had been overcome in mere weeks. Now, the Beifeng had been camped outside of Jinlin Tai for nearly a year, besieging the city and sending raiding parties into the other clans. It was only a matter of time before they reached the Cloud Recesses, and despite their skilled defenders and remote mountain city, Xichen knew they would eventually fall. 
So, it seemed his father and the elders of his family had traded Wangji for peace, handing him their decision on a piece of paper instead of having the courage to face him. They would give him to the warlord of the Beifeng, a monster who had slaughtered thousands, and they had not even been brave enough to tell Xichen. No wonder we are losing, Xichen thought bitterly.
“Xiongzhang,” Wangji choked out, sliding to the ground in front of Xichen. “I love him. He is the other half of my soul.”
Oh. No. Oh, no.
Xichen closed his eyes, willing the words away, but it was too late. Had he already known what his brother would say? He had seen Wangji with Wei-gongzi, the dashing young commander who led the Yunmeng archers, sent to guard the Cloud Recesses thanks to a long-ago treaty. He’d watched as his brother’s initially puzzled reaction to Wei-gongzi’s charming smiles and laughter bloomed into friendship. He had thought, though, that Wangji would not be foolish enough to form an attachment with no hope of attainment. Even if he hadn’t been merely a soldier, Wei-gongzi was of Yunmeng, a respectable clan, but a small one, already bound to the Lans by covenant, and not significant enough to waste the handsome, accomplished, prized second jade of the Cloud Recesses on.
Evidently, Xichen had mistaken the depth of his brother’s regard.
“Wangji, I have no power to change this decision,” he said softly, his heart breaking.
With a loud gulp, Wangji inhaled and shifted so he was kneeling, forcing the tears to subside with the well-known strength of his indomitable will. “No, xiongzhang. I will do this if it will mean safety for our people. I ask only that you tell him yourself. He will not understand and...I fear he will do something rash. Stop him if you must.”
He misunderstood the expression on Xichen’s face and took his hand, his voice thin and splintering in a way Xichen had never heard before.
“Please. I could not live if anything happened to him.”
Xichen had not been intending to refuse.
More Notes: It’s about 40k words, so if you want to follow along, it’ll be on my pinned post, and tagged with #soaring au. It’s also on AO3 (same title).
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animeomegas · 3 years
Text
Pregnant!Omega!Sasuke Headcanons
Anon:  How about omega Sasuke being pregnant with an over protective mate?
@hakunamatatayqueen​:  Ooh ooh could I request some fluffy pregnant omega sasuke headcanons?👀 this baby deserves so much love and happiness omg pLz I love him so much- AND GOOD LUCK WITH UR WORK DARLING I’m in the same situation😔 so take your time and no worries🖤
(Sasuke is so popular on this blog haha! I thought I would combine these requests because they work so well together <3 Also, yes, I just want good things for Sasuke. He was screwed over so much throughout his life and I just want to make it better :( Thank you for the well wishes on my work, it’s not been fun to start university during a pandemic haha. I still haven’t met any classmates or teachers in person rip. I hope your work goes well too! I decided to write this because I already had a lot written already haha. Enjoy!!)
Warnings: Mpreg, swearing, mental breakdown, morning sickness mention ((and non-graphic description) I talked around it because I’m emetophobic haha)
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There is very little in the world that Sasuke hates more than being pregnant. 
He doesn’t just find the experience unpleasant, he hates it.
He feels trapped and uncomfortable all the time.
Too hot and too cold constantly.
He feels weak and useless and at the mercy of his instincts.
And that’s not even mentioning the horrible morning sickness, paranoia and mood swings.
He wanted to revive his family so badly, but the realities had him regretting his decision more than once, even if he was happy in the end.
This is the time in Sasuke’s life that he needs the support of his alpha the most.
Sasuke will refuse to get pregnant a second time. No exceptions.
He would get sterilised as soon as was safe after he had given birth.
TRIMESTER 1:
During his first trimester, Sasuke tries his hardest to carry on as normal. 
I cannot tell you how many times you have to stop him from training so he doesn’t hurt himself or your pup.
He was also miserable when he was banned from taking any more missions.
He’s pretty good about going to his doctor’s appointments though and has no problem going to them alone if you’re busy.
He suffers from morning sickness during this time. An omega’s morning sickness can be helped with the scent of their alpha, so you end up spending lots of time scenting him when he feels awful.
Sasuke doesn’t tell many people that he’s pregnant and doesn’t like other people cooing over him. You get permission but he’ll act like he doesn’t enjoy it.
Sasuke has a very strong nesting urge from day 1, and he never thinks his nest is good enough. He spends a lot of time buying new materials for his nest, rearranging things and scenting everything. You are very lucky that Sasuke was the sole inheritor of all the Uchiha wealth with how many nesting supplies he buys. 
You hovered uncomfortably outside the bathroom door, listening to your mate be violently ill in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t want you in there with him but your alpha was running in circles, desperate to help your mate somehow.
Eventually the sounds from the bathroom ceased. You waited for a moment before hesitantly knocking on the door. 
“Sasuke?” You called out. “Can I come in?”
You heard a grunt that you decided to take as a positive response.
Swinging open the door, you let out a sigh and a quiet whine. 
Sasuke was slouched on the floor, draped part way over the toilet. He looked pale and exhausted. 
“Oh, baby.” You sighed, moving towards his shivering form.
“Go away.” He grumbled, resting his head on his arms. “It’s gross.”
You ignored him, crouching down to sit on the floor and shifting to sit behind him. You sat flush against his back, wrapping your arms gently around his waist. You started to release a gentle scent to help him with the nausea.
Sasuke took a few deep breaths before slumping back against you.
You cradled him as gently as you could, wiping his hair back from his sweat soaked forehead. 
“Feeling better?” You whispered into his ear, rubbing soothing circles on his small baby bump. 
Sasuke hummed, eyes already closed, nuzzling into your neck. He lifted a hand and latched onto the sleeve of your shirt, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. 
You looked down at his exhausted form, clinging onto you in ways he would never normally let himself do, and you made a decision. 
“I’m not going into work today.” 
Sasuke’s eyes flew open at your words.
“No.” He scoffed. “You don’t need to stay here for me, I’m absolutely fine.”
He started trying to get up but you pulled him back against you, raising an eyebrow at his words.
“I want to stay, Sasuke.” You scented him some more, just in case any nausea still remained. “Think you can move back to bed?”
Sasuke hesitated. You waited patiently for his answer, rubbing small circles on his hips.
“I want...” Sasuke started, blushing. “I think I want to go to my nest.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, omega. Do you want me to join you?”
“Please.” He whispered, embarrassed. 
You helped him stand up from the bathroom floor and went to spend the rest of the day cuddled up in his nest.
TRIMESTER 2:
During trimester 2 Sasuke begins to show. He doesn’t get many stretch marks because his stomach is pretty small (but still healthy).
His mood swings start to get pretty extreme from this point.
Sasuke is very clingy and he gets frustrated when you have to leave him for too long. When you do leave him he gets cold or angry and always kicks you out of his nest for a day.
Sasuke starts to leave the house less and less in his second trimester. This is for many reasons. Firstly, he hates the attention he gets and doesn’t want to risk running into anyone he knows. He just doesn’t want to deal with it. Secondly, he gets a little paranoid about someone hurting his pup. You’re not really sure when those feelings start because he keeps them to himself, but when you find out you’re very worried.
To deal with it, you convince him to go on walks and dates with you outside the house. With you there, his anxiety is lessened, and it helps him cope with the paranoia.
Sasuke starts to develop cravings during this period. No one is surprised that he now wants tomatoes for every meal and snack. Every market day, you bring a huge bag and just clear out every tomato there. Sasuke refuses to cook when he’s pregnant so you end up cutting so many tomatoes over the duration of his pregnancy. 
Finally, during his second trimester, Sasuke starts to be satisfied with his nest. And then subsequently spends every moment he can buried inside it. His nest is his safe space and putting him in there is a fool proof strategy to calm him down or ease discomfort.
You sat with Sasuke in his nest, watching him fuss over some pillows in the corner. He was wearing an oversized shirt, but you could still see his pregnant tummy pressing against the fabric when he moved in a certain way. You couldn’t resist.
Leaning over to him, you pushed up his shirt and uncovered his bump. You nuzzled into his stomach, pressing kisses into his skin as you went. You giggled against him when he froze.
Sasuke stiffened and then pushed your face away firmly. You fell backwards gently, knocking over a blanket that Sasuke had pinned to the wall. You both looked at each other in silence for a moment before Sasuke huffed in displeasure.
“You ruin everything in here, I don’t know why I let you in.” He growled, moving over to that corner to try and fix it. 
You looked at him, playfully betrayed.
“You pushed me!”
“Because you deserved it, idiot.” Sasuke scoffed.
You pouted at him in reply, watching as he easily reattached the blanket.
“Are you mad at me?” You fake whined, opening your arms out for a hug.
“Tch,” He blushed, accepting your embrace. “Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” You crooned, nuzzling him furiously. Sasuke accepted the affection with no complaint. He must be more tired than you thought.
You both dozed peacefully in each others embrace, basking in the comfort of Sasuke’s nest and the pleasant mingling of your scents.
Until Sasuke swore suddenly, pulling himself out of your arms and scaring you half to death. 
“What is it? What’s wrong?” You panicked, hands flailing in an attempt to figure out what was wrong with him. 
“Foot cramp.” Sasuke grunted between clenched teeth, hands starting to massage at his foot awkwardly. He couldn’t reach comfortably around his bump. 
“Here, let me.” You quickly moved to sit at his feet, gently massaging while Sasuke let out pained hisses. You kept going until Sasuke had fully relaxed back into the pillows of his nest. 
“Fucking foot cramps.” Sasuke sighed, pulling you back towards him, and trying to position you both back into your original position. Scarcely a few moments had passed before Sasuke groaned again. 
“Now they decides to wake up.” He grumbles, shifting to lift up his shirt.
You watched in awe as your pup began to kick. 
“This never gets old.” You whispered. “I can’t believe that’s our pup in there.”
“I wish they’d let me sleep.” Sasuke grumbled, a fond smile on his face nevertheless. 
“Get comfortable and I’ll try to soothe the pup. Try to get some sleep, omega, you deserve it.”
TRIMESTER 3:
This is where Sasuke’s mental state starts to decline. 
He has a very strong flight reflex when he gets overwhelmed, but obviously he can’t run away from being pregnant, so this just makes him more distressed. 
Sasuke is a very light sleeper generally, and being pregnant means he is rarely comfortable enough to sleep properly, and sleep deprivation makes everything worse.
Sasuke ends up having so many breakdowns that he needs someone with him at all times to make sure he won’t accidentally hurt himself or the pup when he’s not in a good headspace.
Sasuke ends up being induced early to end the severe mental strain he is under.
You watched sadly as Sasuke sobbed pitifully on your bed. You had tried to help, but he threw a fit when you tried to touch him. 
“I don’t want this anymore.” He sobbed. “I can’t-I can’t sleep, I’m too hot, everything hurts, I’m useless!” His hands started to shake.
“No, no, no, sweetheart.” You rushed over to him. “You’re okay, we’ll make it okay.”
“I want to get them out!” His hands started to twitch.
You intervened immediately, shifting his hands away from his stomach, just in case. Sasuke started to sob into your arms.
“Shh, omega.” You scented him, desperate to calm him down. You felt so powerless. “Do you want to come with me to your nest? Would that help?”
Sasuke shook his head desperately. “Too hot.”
You had an idea. 
“A bath then? A nice cool one. I’ll join you and wash your hair for you, yes?”
Sasuke didn’t respond, but you made the decision for him.
Ten minutes later, you were lowering him into a cool bath, and climbing in behind him. Sasuke slumped against you, exhausted after his breakdown. You welcomed him into your embrace, running cool fingers up and down his arms.
“Better?” You whispered.
“Yeah.” He croaked back. “Sorry.”
“S’alright, my love. Just relax.”
You tenderly washed his hair for him, careful to keep shampoo out of his eyes. You smiled when Sasuke started to purr as you massaged his head, relieved that he was feeling better.
You then wiped him down with a cool flannel. When Sasuke began to shiver, you pulled the plug and helped him out of the bath. You dried his hair for him and fetched him an oversized shirt to wear. It was when you were entering back into the room that you suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, I totally forgot.” You leant down and pulled a long, thin pillow out from under your bed. “I bought this today.” You held it up for him to see. “It’s supposed to help you sleep when you’re pregnant.”
Sasuke took the pillow. 
“How does it work?”
You laid him down and helped position the pillow, making sure to wrap it under his bump to support him. When you were done, it was immediately obvious that Sasuke was comfortable. He went boneless against the pillow, eyes already drooping, the dark circles under his eyes suddenly more apparent.
You slid into bed beside him, careful not to crowd and overheat him. Instead, you took his hand in yours, rubbing the back with your thumb.
“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.” You began. “See if they can induce you early.”
“’kay.” He replied, half-asleep.
You pressed a gentle kiss against his mating mark.
“Sleep tight, my omega.”
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mldrgrl · 3 years
Text
Broken Things 20/24
by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall  See Chapter 1 for summary and notes
The incident breeds awkwardness between them for the rest of the morning.  Katherine moves out of his arms eventually and he helps her to gather her clothes.  She keeps her eyes down as she dresses, leaving things unbuttoned and untied, and doesn’t look at him.
“I just need a few minutes to put some fresh clothes on,” she says.  “And then I’ll see to breakfast.”
“Take your time.  I’ll need to check on the boys and see if the storm did any damage.”
She nods once and then she slips out the door.  He wonders if he should go after her or say something, but he doesn’t know what to say that he hasn’t already.  He sighs and then dresses for the day.
Melvin and Trevor already have the barn open when he makes it outside.  Richard is repairing a fencepost in the hog pen.  The ground is muddy, but the sky is blue and the sun is bright.  
“How are things?” Mulder asks.
“Everyone pulled through,” Melvin answers.  “Trevor said that them sheeps were noisy little buggers.  Queenie was fit to be tied over their restlessness, but they settled once the rain let up.”
“How did George do?”
“Just fine.  We actually moved the goats into the stable before it got bad and I put ‘em in with George.  They kept good company for each other.”
“Roof held up?”
“Just fine.”
“Good, good.”
“Everything alright with you?”
“Just fine.”  Mulder rubs the back of his head and looks away from Melvin.
“Mmhm.”
With Jesse and Jimmy away, there is just too much to be done for Mulder to dwell on Katherine’s reluctance to let him in.  Whatever happened this morning, it doesn’t change the closeness they shared the night before, that he now knows is possible to have.  He’s not angry, he’s just sad for her and for them.  Whatever Jack Willis did to her, if the man wasn’t already dead, Mulder would kill him.
It takes some time to relocate the livestock back to their pens.  The hogs romp and roll in the mud, ecstatic, ignoring their slop initially in favor of getting dirty.  Katherine rings the breakfast bell as they’re mucking the stables and Mulder sends them in ahead of him.  He doesn’t have much of an appetite anyway.
Katherine jumps up from the table when he comes in and rushes to the stove.  He puts his arm around her and takes the spatula from her hand.  “Go on and sit down,” he says.  “I know how to fix a plate up.”
“The eggs might be cold.  I covered the bacon to keep it warm.”
“That’s my fault.  I’m late.”  He kisses her cheek and sends her away.
Melvin scrutinizes them the whole meal.  He can feel the older man’s eyes on him at times and he catches him looking at Katherine as well.  
“It’s already starting to dry up out there,” Mulder says.  “I think we should send the horses out to pasture today, what do you think?  Let them run off any residual nerves and they might enjoy a nice roll in the mud, though probably not as much as the hogs.”
“You want to run the curry comb through the lot of ‘em at the end of the day, go on ahead,” Melvin says.
Mulder chuckles.  “It’s Saturday.  You boys planning on heading down to the bath house tonight?  Faithful Jenny and Blondie would probably like a nice ride.  That black stallion from the postal team, he handles well with a saddle.”
“Why do you call the horse Faithful Jenny?” Katherine asks.
Richard laughs.  Mulder chuckles around a mouthful of eggs.  Trevor turns a shade of red that would make a ripe tomato jealous.  Melvin coughs into his fist.
“Have you ever heard of Old Faithful in Yellowstone?” Mulder asks.
Katherine shakes her head no.  Mulder takes another stab at his eggs and then wipes his eyes and sits back.
“Old Faithful is a geyser,” he says.  “Some members of an expedition were camped nearby and noticed that she erupted with predictability every ten minutes or so.”
Richard pounds a fist on the table and laughs so hard he doubles over off the bench.  Mulder shakes his head, but has to laugh with him.
“We got Jenny from a rancher nearby that couldn’t take it no more,” Melvin continues where Mulder left off.  “He come ‘round with her and asked if we could just buy her off him for a fair price because he was at his wits end.”
“But, she’s a lovely horse,” Katherine says.
“Oh, yes,” Mulder says.  “She’s a good old gal, she was just also foraging in the wrong places and got herself a bad case of the colic.”
“You’re not gettin’ to the best part,” Richard says.
“Why don’t you go ahead,” Mulder tells him.  “You sure do enjoy the tale.”
“The best part is that when Mr. Miles dropped her off he said, ‘I tell you what, you can set your watch by that horse’s farts, I reckon.  Probably gives Old Faithful a run for her money.’”
“Oh, my.”  Katherine’s cheeks redden for a moment and then the corners of her mouth pick up and her lips quiver like she’s trying to suppress her amusement, but she can’t hold it for long.  Her giggles almost sound like hiccups and she covers her mouth with one hand.  Her shoulders are shaking and she lets go with a full belly laugh that has the whole table roaring in no time.
“She’s on a special diet now so her, uh, troubles have passed,” Mulder says, when the laughter has died down.  “But, we got used to calling her Faithful Jenny and so the name just carries on.”
“Poor Jenny,” Katherine says.
“You’re lucky you never stood downwind of her some years ago,” Richard says.
The table breaks up into laughter once more.
She’s felt anxious and embarrassed for most of the day.  The hilarity at the breakfast table eased some of her tension, but by noon dinner she had a knot in her stomach.  Her misery is self-imposed.  She knows this.  Mulder has been nothing but gentle and tender with her all day and she returns his kindness with silence.
While the men tend to the horses and get ready for their Saturday trek into town, she launders the sheets and the week’s dirty clothes.  There’s a stain on one of Mulder’s undershirts and she realizes it’s the one he used to clean her hands last night.  The thought of what they did makes her breathless.  She has to grip the side of the washtub to keep upright she feels so faint.
She wants so badly to erase the past and move forward.  She wants so badly for this new marriage she has to feel real.  Last night was as real as it could be, but she had to ruin things this morning.  Perhaps she’s mistaking Mulder’s kindness for pity, and she wouldn’t blame him for it.  She’s pathetic and weak and doesn’t deserve all the nice things he’s done for her.
She refuses to dwell on this now.  She has chores to do and meals to prepare.  It’s why she’s here.  Not to fall in love with her own husband.  She gasps and for the second time, has to grip the side of the washtub.  Is she in love?  No, she can’t be.  She hardly knows him.  She only knows that he’s kind, he’s generous, he laughs easy, he has a slight temper, but isn’t violent.  He’s patient, he’s good to his horses and the men that work for him.  He’s good to her.  
She hears the back door close and she startles at the sound and automatically jumps to start scrubbing the undershirt in her hand.  Mulder knocks softly on the side of the washroom door and smiles at her.
“The boys are heading into town,” he says.  “I told them to go ahead and set out early and I thought I’d go ahead and make supper for us tonight.”
“You can cook?”
“I’m hurt that there’s doubt in your tone.”
“I’m not doubting, I’m just…”
“Naturally skeptical, since I have not yet proven my worth to you.”
“You’ve more than proven your worth,” she says, softly, taking the teasing tone out of the conversation.
Mulder smiles at her and reaches out to cup her cheek.  She wants to believe that she is worth the trouble if he can still touch her so fondly and make her feel so cared for.
“Need help with the laundry?” he asks.
“I’m nearly done, just need to get these shirts scrubbed and hang up this last basket to dry.”
“I can do that.”  He squeezes past her to take the basket of damp clothing and then hoists it up over her head to squeeze back out.  “That pulley you had Richard install is just about the most genius thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mulder takes the laundry away and she finishes with the shirts.  She goes out to the back to pin them up and he lets her take over the line.  She gets fresh linens on the beds, does some dusting, and cleans up the washroom.  Before she’s through, she can smell the hearty aroma of meat cooking and hear the sizzle of the skillet.
“Pork chops?” she asks.
“I confess it’s about the only thing I can cook, but I do it well.”
“Should I chop anything?”
“No, Ma’am.  I’ve had potatoes baking for some time and I brought up a jar of applesauce.”
“There are a few corn fritters leftover from dinner that I wrapped.  We could heat those as well.”
“I think that sounds perfect.”
Katherine sets the table for two.  The pork chops are delicious.  He shows her how to garnish a baked potato with chopped bacon and bits of chives and cheese, which she’d never seen done before.  She tries to imagine an easy life with him and what it would have been like if only they’d met four years ago.
“Have you given any thought to what you’d like in the expansion?” he asks.
Katherine shakes her head.  “There isn’t anything in particular that I can think of.  I would like...well, I would like the porch to stay the way that it is.  Facing west.  I like watching the sunset.”
“I wouldn’t dream of changing that.  I was thinking I might convert the bunkhouse into a guest house.  And I’d like to have an office built on the other side of the kitchen.  There must be something you’d like though.  A parlor?  Sewing room?  Laboratory?”
She shakes her head at him and then laughs.  “A laboratory?”
“Some place for the science things you enjoy.”
“No, thank you.”  Her smile fades a bit as memories fall on her.  “When I was a little girl, all I used to want was my own bookcase, filled with books, but my father said that reading novels was unladylike and would rot my brain and fill it with uppity ideas.  I had a schoolteacher that did not agree, fortunately, and I did most of my reading in secret, with her help.”
“Is that the same teacher that got you interested in sciences?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a favorite novel?”
“Moby Dick always resonated with me.”
“Dense material for a young person, lady or gent.  How did it resonate?”
“The ship’s captain, Ahab, reminded me very much of my father.”  She closes her eyes for a few moments and then shakes the memories of her childhood from her head.  Her family is not a subject she wishes to think about right now.  “Do you think we could put in a magnolia tree somewhere?”
“I’ve never seen a magnolia out in these parts, but we can find out if the soil is right for it.”
“That’s all I want.”
“I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
She stands then to start clearing the dishes and to clean the kitchen.  Mulder lays a hand on her arm, very gently.
“You could have your own library,” he says.  “A room full of all your favorite books and all the ones you never got to read, but always wanted to.”
“The porch and the tree will be more than enough.”
He lets her go with a bit of reluctance and she goes on with her cleaning.  He heads out to do the evening chores in the barn and stables.  She doesn’t see him again for the rest of the evening.  She is already lying in bed when she hears him come in by the soft tread of his boots on the wood floor that she’s grown accustomed to.  She hears him open his door and there’s a long pause before he closes it.
She twists the wedding ring on her finger around and around.  When she catches herself, she shakes her hands and then starts to do her rosary, but stops that as well.  For nearly her entire life she’s been told that trusting in God and saying her prayers will bring her comfort and peace, but she’s never known it to be comforting at all.  Certainly not in the four years when she could have used it the most.  And she never knew peace until last night when she was with Mulder, so close with him, lying in his arms.
Maybe God led her here, or maybe He didn’t.  Maybe it was fate, like Mulder said.  The point is, if she wants peace, if she wants comfort, she knows where to find it.  All she has to do is get up and walk across the hallway.  Can she really ask him to do this for her though, when he’s already given her so much?  And what has she given him in return?
Katherine sighs and twists her ring again.  Finally, she kicks the sheets away and gets up from the bed.  She unties her hair and shakes it loose before she goes to her door.  It takes her some time to open it and then she stands in the dark for a few moments more before she tiptoes to his door.  The floor creaks softly under her.  She can see the lamplight shining dimly from under the bottom of his door.  It takes her another few moments and a few deep breaths, but she knocks.
Mulder opens the door.  He’s bare-chested and bare-footed.  His suspenders are slung down by his thighs and the top button of his trousers is undone.  He cocks his head in question and she drops her eyes for a few moments, but then looks back up at him.
“Could you hold me?” she asks.
He opens his mouth and then purses his lips and nods.  “Yeah, I can do that.”
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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years
Text
The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV
It’s been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt’s been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he’s taken under his wing is his own witcher.
Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.
[Read Jaskier’s POV]    [Read Geralt’s POV Chapter 1/2]
Chapter 2/2
The sun was streaming through the windows of their inn room and Jaskier was still sound asleep, even as the late morning warmth made Geralt downright uncomfortable at still being indoors this late.
Staying in bed past dawn was not a luxury that frequently arose in the life of a witcher, usually only happening when Geralt was terribly injured. Not even winters spent at Kaer Morhen were enough to keep him in bed late, he was always up and moving before the cock crowed, finding himself scaling the fortress walls for chilly morning exercise or even just browsing the library to brush up on hunting knowledge.
But after a week of traveling with Jaskier as a wolf Geralt had now spent a week of mornings not leaving the inn room until the sun was well in the sky. He’d always known Jaskier was less than pleased to be roused early every morning when they traveled together, but hadn’t ever realized just how different the man’s real sleeping habits were when he was alone.  
Geralt nosed at Jaskier’s hand yet again in a quiet effort to rouse him, but the bard simply rolled over, tangling himself even further in the sheets. Not even Geralt restlessly jumping onto and off of the bed several times in the last hour had shifted Jaskier, who seemed perfectly content to lay sprawled across the mattress until evening, wasting away the entire day in messy haired sleep until it was time to perform for the evening crowd again.
Geralt padded over to the window, rearing up onto his back legs to get his front paws on the window sill, looking out over the bustling morning marketplace outside. It felt like it was mocking him, a whole town of people with tasks and chores and jobs going about their days. All with responsibilities that had them out of bed and moving, with hands to actually do them with too.
And maybe that was what was really getting on Geralt’s nerves. Not the fact that Jaskier wasn’t awake yet, not even the fact that he was still cooped up indoors...
...but the fact that even if Geralt were to get out there was nothing for him to do.
If he were his normal self there’d be no problem with him leaving Jaskier to sleep in while he went off to replenish his ingredient stock in the market, check notice boards for work, or even go after a contract and return later that night covered in gore and richer in coin. There was always something for a Witcher to be doing. If there wasn’t that meant it was time for Geralt to move to the next town, Jaskier always following behind.
But now, for the first time in his unnaturally long life, there was truly nothing for Geralt to do. No contracts to take. No possessions to replenish or sharpen. Not even Roach to go out and groom.
He had nothing.
And he was starting to feel an awful lot like nothing too.
I am a witcher. His age old mantra, the stubborn phrase that had gotten him through everything, had worn thin awfully fast without anything remotely witchery left of him. But if he wasn’t a Witcher then what was he? Anything that even mattered?
Geralt shook himself with a whine that shifted to a light growl as he stalked over to the bed, grabbing Jaskier’s sleeve and tugging on it hard.
Jaskier groaned, shifting his face into the pillow. “Too early.” he muttered.
Geralt growled in earnest now, grabbing more sleeve in his teeth and pulling Jaskier off the bed with one yank. The bard fell to the floor with a yelp, startling awake with wide eyes and tousled hair.
“Well alright then, I’m up, you don’t have to yell.” Jaskier yawned, looking annoyed. “What’s wrong with you today anyway?”
Geralt looked away, maintaining his low growl.
“So grumpy.” Jaskier said, getting to his feet and stretching. “Well I suppose if I’m up already we can get something to eat and head down to the market.” He dropped back to sit on the mattress and started fumbling with a pair of pants, still blinking sleep from his eyes. “We’ve gotten plenty of coin and now that it’s obvious you’re planning on hanging around I want my belt back. Let’s get you a real collar today, what do you think about that?”
Geralt stopped his growling, letting out a low huff instead as he trotted to the door, pawing at it impatiently to signal his answer. At first wearing a collar had felt awkward and degrading, but that had been before Geralt had realized that in fact it was his ticket to safety.
As a person he relied on his armor and medallion to tell people important things for everyone’s safety: I am a Witcher. I am dangerous but reliable. I am to be left alone. As a wolf he had to send far different messages: I am tame. I am safe to be around. I belong to someone. And as foolish as it sometimes felt, Geralt wasn’t too stupid to realize the social power and protection the teal floral printed belt around his neck had given him. It was an armor all its own.
But the thought of getting one that wasn’t actually part of Jaskier’s wardrobe was still exciting him far more than it should have, probably because this was the first thing that had happened for him in a week, and he found himself nearly desperate to get going.
He huffed at himself, ears flicking back in annoyance. How far had he really fallen to be whining and prancing in place at the prospect of running an errand for himself?
Jaskier only laughed at his clear impatience, but did pick up his pace a bit. By the time the two of them found their way into the crowded marketplace Geralt felt like he was going to burst with impatience as Jaskier leisurely made his way from stall to stall, looking over the wares of different merchants. Geralt could smell the leather worker’s stall all the way at the end of the street, why didn’t Jaskier hurry up and take him there already?
“-yes, collars. Something big enough for my dog?” He heard Jaskier say.
Geralt trotted back to his side as a merchant pulled a box out from under his table.
“Well you’ve got quite a pet there friend,” the merchant said, looking Geralt over with an impressed look. “But I think I’ve got a few in here that’ll fit even him, take a look.”
Jaskier started pulling out collars and setting them on the tabletop. Several of brown leather, several that looked too short. One ridiculously ornate one that wasn’t even leather at all, but woven out of stiff colored threads in patterns of flowers.
Geralt’s ears pricked forward as Jaskier set a last one on the table. It was wide and thick, made of black leather with silver studs punched into it. It looked so much like Geralt’s old witcher armor that he started whining, nosing at it. This one, get me this one.
“Hang on Geralt, don’t chew on any of these, I don’t want to end up buying them all.” Jaskier said, pushing Geralt’s snout away.
Geralt growled, shoving past Jaskier’s hand as he pawed at the studded collar again. This. One. Get it. He could smell Jaskier’s frustration at him but he didn’t care. This was supposed to be about him.
“I expect he likes the smell of the leather.” The merchant chuckled. “He’d look right fearsome in that one though, it would suit a beast like him.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not getting that one.” Jaskier said easily, pushing Geralt away from it again and picking up the studded collar. Geralt could smell the bard’s scent sharpen. “He’s a companion, not a hunting dog, he needs to look the part he’s playing. Any bard worth their salt knows the importance of costume.”
Geralt barely heard what Jaskier said, only seeing him pick up the woven collar instead as he dropped the studded one back into the box. Geralt’s ears pinned back and he let out a frustrated growling bark, wishing he could push Jaskier aside like usual to just do it himself, or at least give him a piece of his mind.
But instead Geralt startled as Jaskier spun on him, looking him directly in the eyes with a simmering expression he’d never ever directed at Geralt before. His sharp scent, that was anger coming off of the bard.
“Stop.” Jaskier commanded, his voice laced with enough angry finality that Geralt actually felt his tail tuck a bit between his legs.
The bard’s voice wasn’t heated, in fact it was icy cold. His scent went from sharp to something a step more painful. It was so intense that it almost felt like Jaskier was really seeing him, but he’d never talked to Geralt like this when he was a person.
“New rule.” Jaskier said, his voice chillingly even, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “Unless you’re in pain or I’m in danger there’s going to be absolutely no growling at me. I’ve gotten a lifetime's worth of that from your namesake thank you very much, and I refuse to take any more of it.”
Geralt was silent, he would have been speechless even if he’d been capable of speaking.
He’d seen Jaskier pick fights with insult tossing peasants before, had seen him charge into a brawl with nothing but a glass bottle to defend himself, had even seen him square up with generals and sorceresses and monsters far more powerful than him over the years when the situation called for it.
But he’d never seen this side of Jaskier. Because the scent of anger coming off the bard was no match for the scent of emotional pain that overpowered it.
...I was stupid enough to hang around him for years...
...he bit far more than you do my friend. With words I mean...
...I mean he was always insulting me…
And with that Jaskier turned back to the merchant, leaning against the table with an easy smile as he began haggling over the price of the woven collar. Geralt sat silently at his feet, his mind replaying what Jaskier had told his wolf self in confidence over the past week about his witcher self.
Being around Jaskier as a wolf had of course already revealed to Geralt just how out of line he’d been when he’d chased the bard off three weeks ago, but had Jaskier really hated his normal day-to-day growling that much all these years? Geralt knew he wasn’t the easiest person to be around by a long shot, but Jaskier had never seemed to mind. He’d always just smiled and shook his head whenever Geralt had resorted to sharp single word answers and angry grunting instead of longer wordy phrases.
Geralt wasn’t always like that. Especially around Jaskier, who was the only person who regularly cajoled him into real full length conversations as they traveled the continent together. But even when he was more talkative Geralt had never shied away from loosing the brunt of his frustrations or bad moods on Jaskier. Just like he had with his poor mood today. Just like...
...if life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands...
Ah.
Geralt hated feeling guilt, but this felt far worse than anything he’d felt in years. Because Jaskier had minded how flippantly Geralt had treated him sometimes, minded terribly in fact, but had hid it from him. Or perhaps Geralt had never wanted to notice, had always had the luxury of pushing past Jaskier and onto his own plans like he’d tried with the collars.
But now Geralt could only sit and wait as the bard handled things for him, left to silently review every growl, every snapped reply, every unfair accusation his brain could dredge up from the last twenty two years that had been aimed at Jaskier.
Above him Jaskier was of course as patient and sunny as ever as he settled on a price with the merchant, even as the scent of pain still ebbed from him. The same scent he’d gotten the times he’d confided to Geralt without realizing who he was really talking to.
Geralt knew by now just how badly he’d hurt Jaskier by not reciprocating his affection and by verbally attacking him on the mountain, but it was a new kind of pain to realize that the bard might have been hurting their entire friendship.
There was a shaking of hands and an exchanging of coin above and then the merchant took the box, heading to the back of his stall. Jaskier turned to Geralt with a smile, getting down on one knee as he unlatched the old belt collar and slipped on the new one.
“Here we are.” Jaskier said, adjusting the new collar—which did feel like a much more comfortable fit than the belt had—around Geralt’s neck. “You do look handsome, any lord would be glad to have you curled up in front of their fireplace by their side, you magnificent thing.”
Geralt looked at the ground, not wanting to meet Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier’s smile dropped, replaced with a concerned look.
“I'm sorry I snapped at you.” He said quietly, petting his head. “You have been difficult today but you didn’t deserve that. You’re not the one I’m really upset at, I’ll make it up to you with a treat when we get back to the inn, alright?”
Except Geralt was the one who deserved it. But continuing to sulk would only worry Jaskier more, so instead he wagged his tail, pushing his head up against Jaskier’s chest in what little apology he could manage in this state. If he ever regained the ability to speak that’s what he would say first, a real apology for everything.
“There’s a good boy.” Jaskier chuckled, scruffing his hands through the thick fur of Geralt’s neck. “A good handsome boy. You’re going to be quite the heart stealer with that new collar of yours, you just wait.”
Geralt leaned up against Jaskier as he stood, doing his best to be as non growly as possible as they went on their way through the marketplace.
It was going to take a bit of extra effort to not resort to growling and snapping and snarling, but Geralt was already determined to keep Jaskier’s new rule. After all, it’s not as if he had any other challenges to keep him busy. And besides, making sure Jaskier felt only appreciated was long overdue.
 ***
 Geralt had been a wolf for an entire month now and he’d learned many things about Jaskier, but he’d also learned things about life. Some admittedly more useful than others.
He’d learned that all animals from chickens to cattle had a subtle language all their own that people just didn’t catch, a language he still didn’t understand fully but that he was getting better at everyday. He’d learned that most humans could be charmed by a wagging tail and a pretty collar faster than even Jaskier could manage. He’d even learned that there was a certain delectable smell that could only be gotten from rolling in garbage, but he was fairly sure that the virtue of that particular realization was heavily dependent on him being a wolf.
But perhaps the most important thing he’d learned was that humans didn’t watch what they said at all when they thought there were only animals around to hear them.
“Talented bard they’ve got tonight.”
Geralt’s ear flicked toward the three men who were leaning against the outside of the tavern as he snuffled through the long grass, tracking a mouse he’d smelled in the evening air. Over the weeks Jaskier had become far more relaxed with how close he kept Geralt, meaning that Geralt was allowed to wander as he pleased as long as he kept out of trouble. It was a small freedom that had made life far more enjoyable, not the least of which being because Geralt could eavesdrop on unwitting humans even more easily than he had as a witcher.
“He’s got a pretty enough voice,” said one of the other men. Geralt could tell the three men were watching him but continued his snuffling. “Been making quite a name for himself with that white wolf, just look at him. Tame as anything and as eye catching as they come. Saw some kids playing with him earlier, no wonder he’s getting his master a reputation.”
“I bet the bard’s purse is even prettier than his face.” The third man mused. “He sure dresses well enough. Bet that dog would fetch a pretty price too if he could be convinced to part with him.”
Geralt’s eyes narrowed as the men all chuckled, an ugly sound.
“I heard he’s staying at the Golden Swallow.” The second man said. “Wouldn’t take much to pay him a visit late tonight, have a chat and see if he’s willing to part ways with some of his finer things. I reckon the three of us would have pretty good chances against one bard, don’t you think?”
Geralt kept himself as outwardly calm as possible, even as a sticky hot protectiveness trickled down his spine.
“What about the wolf?” the first man asked. “I don’t fancy a tussle with something that big if it gets upset.”
“It’s not a wolf, it’s an overgrown lapdog.” the second scoffed, unfolding his arms. “He’s tame as anything, probably wouldn’t even notice it’s changed masters. Look, I’ll show you. Hey, here boy!”
Geralt let himself look up as the man called to him, snapping his fingers and smiling.
If Geralt were still a witcher he would have made short work of these men, bluntly confronting them with enough blade to get them to abandon their plans at best, making sure they’d never harm anyone again at worst. Although he doubted they would have let themselves speak so carelessly around a witcher in the first place.
As a wolf though...as a wolf Geralt found himself wanting to try seeing what would happen if he handled this entirely differently. Because they were not going to lay a single finger on his Jaskier, that much he knew.
“Pspsps, here boy, come here you big brute.” The man said, calling to him in a high pitched sing-song voice.
Geralt pricked his ears and bounded forward toward the men, panting in a charade of canine happiness. The man laughed as he bent down to pet him.
“See? Tame as anything. He’s just a big stupid beast, aren’t you?” he crooned, scratching behind Geralt’s ears.
Geralt made a show of enjoying the affection as the other men petted him as well, but this close to the men he could now see for certain that none of them were carrying weapons. Their mistake.
“Why don’t I take him home now and we take care of the bard later?” The first man suggested, his dirty fingers curling around Geralt’s collar. “That way we don’t have to worry about dragging him out of the inn and barking while we slit his master’s throat.”
It took every ounce of Geralt’s willpower not to snarl, but he kept it back, well practiced after a month of quietly tempering his fouler moods.
“Not a bad idea.” The third man nodded. “That way we can even have some fun with the bard too. He’s real pleasant to look at, would be a shame to waste it so fast.”
The men all laughed. The fingers on Geralt’s collar loosened.
Perfect.
Geralt silently lunged up at the first man, jaws snapping shut on the bandit’s throat and ripping before he even had time to finish his laugh, instead collapsing to the dirt with a hollow moan and glassy eyes as blood pooled around him.
Without missing a beat Geralt lept at the third man, feeling his adrenaline pounding as he knocked the bandit to the ground. The man’s eyes widening in horror as he tried to cover his face in still dawning shock. Geralt had never fought anything larger than rabbits as a wolf, but the sticky hot iron taste of the blood in his mouth was the same and his witcher killing instincts certainly hadn’t gone anywhere.
It was messy and hot and fast, but before the second man—the ringleader—had time to even properly stumble back his second fallen comrade was twitching in the dirt with a gurgling shriek.
“What, what-” the ringleader stuttered, looking at his two dead friends in shock. Men who had been standing and laughing and plotting an innocent man’s death only moments before.
Geralt looked up at the man, panting happily again knowing what a chilling sight it made him as blood dripped from his open mouth.
“Y-you, you heard us, didn’t you?” The bandit said hollowly, Geralt could hear his racing heart and the cloying scent of fear flowing off him.
Geralt knew by now that he couldn’t properly nod his head, but he dipped his head up and down in his best imitation as he smiled his canine grin, eyes squinted with grim satisfaction to see the bandit’s face pale even further.
“You’re no wolf.” The bandit gasped, stumbling back desperately, eyes wide as his hands scrabbled in the weeds for anything he could use as a weapon. “You’re cursed. What are you?”
Geralt huffed at the irony. Maybe it would be worth letting the villain live just on the off chance he’d let Jaskier in on the secret.
“We were just joking.” The bandit said hurriedly. “We weren’t really going to do anything to your master, we weren’t really going to kill him, honest! Leave me be, I’ll do him no harm, I swear it!”
Even if Geralt hadn’t smell the bald-faced lie on the bandit his sharp eyes spotted the man’s hand close around a discarded bar of iron in the weeds. The man’s face twisted in a snarl of his own as he swung the metal at Geralt’s head.
It was over almost before it began, Geralt lunged and the metal clattering out of the bandit’s limp fingers as he collapsed under the wolf’s attack. Geralt panted heavily as he stood in the alleyway, now alone with three bodies that would never kill anyone again. More importantly, who would never kill Jaskier.
Geralt whined, trying to scent the air for Jaskier but not smelling much over the cloying iron scent of the blood covering his snout. A cold feeling swept through him as he realized he wasn’t out of danger yet. As a Witcher he could get away with slaughtering murderous bandits, but if the townspeople found three men dead of dog bites and spotted a wolf covered in gore he knew there was only one way for that particular story to end.
Geralt latched onto the ringleader’s collar, yanking at it to drag the body down the alley toward the canal that ran through the town. It took some doing but after a minute or two the corpse was tumbled into the murky water, quickly joined by the bandit’s two other friends.
Geralt huffed as he trotted to a nearby horse trough, doing his best to rinse the worst of the blood from his face and paws but having no way of seeing how successful he was. He shook himself to get the excess water off, spooking a rabbit from the weeds. His ears pricked up as an idea occurred to him and he took off after it.
 ***
 “Geralt, look at you, you mighty hunter. Finally returning from your evening of fun I see.” Jaskier said, shaking his head in amusement as he let Geralt into their inn room. “But really, did you catch that rabbit in a lake? You’re a damp mess. I swear you’ve been getting enough to eat, but perhaps not if you’re still hunting?”
Geralt wagged his tail as he dropped the rabbit at his feet, just happy to see his bard safe and sound, a now familiar warm loving feeling rushing through him.
He wished he could tell Jaskier what had happened. He wished he could tell him how he’d felt, angry and protective. He wished he could pull Jaskier into a hug just to reassure himself that no one else was going to touch him.
But he couldn’t. He hadn’t before and he couldn’t now that he felt like he was bursting with words and emotions that he couldn’t express them even if he wanted to.
Probably because he had no choice.
And he did very much want to.
“Well we’ll make sure to get you more to eat if you need it.” Jaskier said with a smile, fetching a towel and kneeling to rub Geralt down with it, paying special attention to cleaning his face. “You’ll get us kicked out of inns if you make a habit of showing up late and wet with rabbit blood on your snout you know.”
Geralt shook his newly dried fur, pushing his face against Jaskier, making the bard laugh and hug his neck.
“I love you too, you ridiculous thing.” Jaskier said warmly, kissing his head.
Geralt whined, several emotions fighting uselessly in him. Useless since he had no way to show them.
“Well I’m back to sleep if you care to join me.” Jaskier said with a yawn, setting aside the towel and collapsing back onto the mattress, having apparently already been asleep when Geralt had come scratching at the door.
Geralt lept up onto the bed without hesitation, curling up against Jaskier and resting his head on the bard’s chest.
“Good boy.” Jaskier said, eyes already closed as he ran his fingers through Geralt’s fur, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.
Geralt watched him sleep, thinking of all the things he would say if he could. All the things that he likely had permanently missed out on ever saying.
Because Jaskier was never going to figure out Geralt’s curse on his own, that much had become clear over the last month. The only thing Geralt had been able to think of was if Yennifer somehow came across the bard, surely she’d at least recognize Geralt as cursed if not recognizing him as Geralt.
But he knew too much about curses to be naive enough to suppose that even Yennifer would be able to break it even if she knew about it. Curses were tricky, stubborn things. Their cures were always cryptic hidden clues tied to their beginnings, if they even had a cure at all.
With Geralt unable to even tell Yen who had cursed him or how she wouldn’t even have a place to start, leaving him a wolf forever.
Geralt whined softly, shifting closer to Jaskier as his gaze flicked up, toward the locked door that no bandits would be coming through tonight.
Well at least he was spending his new life the best way he could imagine, at Jaskier’s side, protecting him even if he didn’t know it. Even if Geralt wished it were different, there was no place he’d rather be.
 ***
 “Geralt, if you don’t bring the stick back to me I can’t throw it for you.”
Geralt bounded right past Jaskier, happily carrying his stick in his mouth as he dashed back and forth across the dirt road the two of them were traveling down. The warm afternoon sun warmed the fur on his back as he pranced through weeds, investigating intriguing smells as he came across them.
Geralt had no idea where they were going that day, and he had no idea when they were going to get there, and that was perfectly fine. Because he and Jaskier were together and that was more than enough. Although his new stick certainly helped.
He bounded back to the bard, letting him wrestle the stick from his mouth after a few playful tugs, and then took off after it again when Jaskier threw it for him.
Two months ago Geralt would never have believed that his life could be so simple, and he never would have believed that the uncomplicated joy of traveling with his best friend could have satisfied him so easily. And yet, here they were. Long mornings spent curled up next to Jaskier in bed, effortless afternoons traveling or strolling markets, joyful evenings sitting at the bard’s side while he performed, and then nights of listening attentively to whatever crossed Jaskier’s mind as the two of them lounged in front of a fire.  
Geralt of course missed plenty of things about being a witcher, for one his list of things he wished he could tell Jaskier was always growing, but as time had gone on he’d decided that perhaps this fate wasn’t entirely terrible after all.
Geralt’s ears pricked up as the sound and scent of horses approaching, a lot of them. He emerged from the tall grasses at the side of the road to see a horse merchant’s caravan passing them on the road. His eyes widened as a particular smell reached him from the group, a painfully familiar one coming from a glossy chestnut mare with a stripe down her face.
Geralt let out a bark of surprise and the mare looked up, her ears twitching toward him. When she saw him she let out a sharp whinny of recognition that jolted him into action. His stick dropped to the ground forgotten as he rushed up to Roach, yelping and whining in excitement.
It was Roach.
The roadside exploded into chaos around him, spooked horses yanking at their leads and trying to skitter away from him, the horse merchant shouting, Jaskier yelling at him too as his hand grabbed his collar. But Geralt was single minded in his focus as he hauled Jaskier forward toward Roach, whining desperately as his horse put up a fit of her own trying to tug away from her lead toward him.
Then suddenly Jaskier’s grip faltered. “...Roach?” he said, voice sounding dry.
Geralt looked up at Jaskier, whining and barking. It’s her, it’s my horse, do something please!
“Where did you get that horse?” Jaskier demanded of the horse merchant, letting go of Geralt’s collar.
Geralt dashed up to Roach with the bard close behind, filled with gratitude that Jaskier had caught on so quickly. Geralt danced around Roach’s feet, yelping in canine excitement as the horse dipped her head to nose at him affectionately. She’d seen him turned into a wolf, of course she knew it was him.
In the excitement Geralt missed most of what the humans were doing but it sounded like Jaskier was in a full shouting match with the horse merchant.
“-she’s coming with me now as well as anything else you stole from back where you found her.” Jaskier said angrily. “And believe me, I’ll know if you try to keep any of it back.”
Geralt whined in gratitude, pressing against Jaskier’s legs as he untied Roach from the caravan. The bard had no reason to be doing this, not after thinking his last interaction with Geralt had been that disaster back on the mountain. Jaskier had every right to look the other way and wish Geralt’s apparent disappearance good riddance, but instead he was going out of his way to get his horse and things back for him. Geralt didn’t deserve this kindness at all.
Two of the horse merchant’s boys dumped armloads of all too familiar things at their feet and Geralt nearly stumbled as the scent of his own witcher belongings rushed over him. The dusty leather scent of his armor, still spattered in grime. The sharp varied smells of his alchemy bag. And of course the constant smell of steel and silver as Jaskier pulled his two swords out of the pile of things.
It felt almost as if Geralt were waking from a dream, memories of a past life weaving their way back to him. He felt an aching longing for it, wishing desperately for his old body again, wishing to be a witcher again so he could take up all his things and his life.
“These were all at the camp?” Jaskier asked sharply, looking through the pile as if he were taking stock of every item. Geralt could smell anger and distress flowing off the bard.
“They were, strewn about in a right mess too.” The merchant said, looking eager to get all this over with and gone.
“The medallion.” Jaskier demanded horsley, looking up from a saddlebag. “Where’s the silver wolf medallion?”
Geralt whined softly as he realized what why Jaskier smelled so distraught. Geralt would never have voluntarily left all his belongings and Roach behind, Jaskier must think that his witcher was dead.
One of the boys handed over Geralt’s old silver medallion to Jaskier, who took it stiffly, his scent spiking from anger to shock and grief. Geralt had never ever smelled Jaskier this sad before and it twisted at his gut, the now familiar feeling of guilt eating at him. Because of course this was all his fault and he couldn’t stand Jaskier being hurt by him again, especially when it was all a terrible misunderstanding.
Geralt nosed at the medallion in Jaskier’s hand, whining. I’m not dead! I’m still here with you, don’t be sad!
Jaskier silently handed the merchant some coin and the caravan left as quickly as it came, leaving the bard the wolf and the horse alone on the dusty road with all of Geralt's earthly possessions piled in front of them. It felt like some kind of surreal dream Geralt couldn’t manage to wake up from, a dream that turned toward a nightmare as Jaskier collapsed to his knees, breaking into rough sobs as tears ran freely down his face.
No no no. Geralt pressed against Jaskier as close as he could get. Don’t cry! None of this is your fault! I’m not dead! If only he could talk, all of this could be solved in an instant. Jaskier hugged Geralt tightly, burying his face in his fur as he continued to sob. Geralt settled heavily across the bard’s lap, being as present and comforting as he knew how. He idly wondered how he might have dealt with a crying bard before all this. Would he have stood awkwardly by? Would he have tried to comfort him at all or been too concerned with his own discomfort at such a strong display of emotions?  
It took a long time for Jaskier’s tears to ease a bit.  
“He’s, he’s gone.” Jaskier hiccuped, opening his hand to look at the medallion in his hand. “I mean...I k-know I already lost him...b-but not like this.”
Geralt whined quietly, pressing his head against Jaskier’s shoulder bracingly. You haven’t lost me. I’m not gone, I wish I could make you understand.
“Why did that have to be the last time I saw him...” Jaskier said quietly, burying his face in Geralt’s fur. “Why did it have to end like that? I really believed I would see him again. What am I going to do now?” He looked up as Roach nudged his shoulder, the horse clearly confused by Jaskier’s grief.
“Oh Roach, I’m so sorry. You probably saw it actually happen, you poor thing.” Jaskier said, getting to his feet and rubbing her cheek, easing off the rough rope bridle from the merchant. “I know he didn’t like me much by the end, but I hope it’s alright if you stick with me. I promise I’ll keep you brushed and well fed, no monster hunting, but I’ll take good care of you.”
Geralt was nearly whining in frustration at not being able to talk, unable to pull Jaskier into a reassuring hug, unable to thank him for everything he was doing. All he could do was stay right by the man’s side as he set about slowly saddling Roach and packing up all of Geralt’s witcher things with practiced care, sadness still dripping off him. Sadness Geralt desperately needed to wipe away.
Jaskier finished packing up Roach and stood back, pulling Geralt’s old medallion out of his pocket and staring at it. Geralt looked up attentively as Jaskier got down on one knee in front of him.
“I need you to hold onto this for me alright?” Jaskier said quietly. “Keep it safe while we travel.”
Geralt sat very still in agreement, nearly reverent as the bard gave him back his own medallion.
But the instant the metal chain passed over his nose Geralt could feel something changing, a quivering electric rush that crept over him as the chain passed over his head. He distantly felt the weight of the medallion hit his chest as a flash of light sent him stumbling to his feet, but an instant later his vision cleared, leaving him staring at his his own two very human hands.
Geralt’s eyes widened in surprised shock as he looked himself over, his complete witcher self back to normal. The medallion had broken the curse!
Barely an instant had passed and Geralt’s witcher reflexes alerted him to Jaskier’s cry of alarm, still stumbling back from the flash of light that had evidently blinded him. Geralt caught the bard before he fell back, pulling him into a tight hug that had two months’ worth of gratitude and relief and love piled into it.
“Unhand me!” Jaskier yelped in surprise, still blinking to get his sight back as he struggled in Geralt’s grip. “Let me-”
“I’m sorry Jaskier.” Geralt said quietly in Jaskier’s ear, his voice feeling rusty after not using it for so many weeks, but still full of emotion at finally, finally being able to apologize.
Jaskier looked up at him, eyes widening in stunned recognition as he finally saw who was holding him.
“G-Geralt?”
 ***
 “You really didn’t mind the collar? I should have picked that black leather one you wanted, that’s why you were so huffy about it, I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Geralt said, setting another log on the campfire.
He stood, walking barefoot to where Jaskier was sitting perched on his bedroll. Geralt was wearing his loosest shirt and pants, unable to bear wearing socks and shoes yet after only a few hours as a person again. But at least he’d managed to pitch camp like usual with only minimal fumbling. Jaskier was still watching Geralt with a look of fond disbelief that hadn’t left him since that afternoon, as if he were still convinced he were about to wake from a dream.
Geralt sat on the bedroll, gently pulling the bard into his lap. Jaskier smiled, reaching up to hold Geralt’s face as if he were trying to memorize him.  
“I didn’t need a collar that looked like my old armor,” Geralt said, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “I needed the flower one, you were right to choose it. You don’t have to keep apologizing for anything, you did everything exactly right. It’s like what you said about actors having the right costume.”
“You’re going to have to be patient with me,” Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s going to take me at least a few days to adjust to the reality of a Geralt who remembers things I’ve said weeks ago. All of this is quite a shock.”
“You’ve never been anything but patient with me.” Geralt said, taking one of Jaskier’s hands and kissing his palm. “I owe you all the patience you want a hundred times over.”
“See? This is exactly what I mean, you’re using words Geralt, about your feelings no less.” Jaskier teased with a smile, playing with the chain of Geralt’s medallion. “If I hadn’t seen you sharpening your silver sword just now I’d think I had a good natured doppler on my hands. Say, a doppler could change into a wolf couldn’t it? That would certainly make all of this make more sense. I don’t think I’ve heard of a mage turning people into wolves before, he must have been an odd bird.”
“I don’t think he was a mage.” Geralt said, watching Jaskier idly turn the medallion over in his hands as the bard rested his head against his chest. Curling up against him as a wolf had been good, but this was so much better. “I’d bet good coin there was something fae in his blood, whatever he was. They’re the kind to be as unhinged and, well, creative as he was.”
“There was so much compliment in that insult I can hardly decide whether or not to be offended.”
Geralt was on his feet in an adrenaline jolting instant, pushing Jaskier behind him and grabbing his freshly sharpened silver sword from where it lay nearby.
On the other side of their camp stood the teal and orange clad man Geralt had gone up against months ago, watching them idly, as if slightly bored.
“What do you want?” Geralt asked, voice as level as his sword. He already knew that riling the man could result in an attack he wouldn’t be able to parry, but with Jaskier at risk he couldn’t quite bring himself to lower his sword as he cast a simple protective Quen shield around the two of them. “We’ve done you no harm, leave us in peace.”
“Oh do calm yourself.” The man drawled. “I felt my curse end and I came to see whether you’d finally died in a ditch somewhere. Wolf teeth make fine ingredients you know, waste not want not and all that.”
“Geralt, he’s the one who turned you into a wolf?” Jaskier asked, pushing past him.
“Jaskier, don’t-”
“What kind of sick bastard are you anyway?” Jaskier snapped at the sorcerer, folding his arms. “Turning people to wolves, talking of harvesting their teeth for gods’ sakes. Walking around in such a disaster of an outfit as that too. I’ve half a mind to break my lute over your head, haven’t you got anything better to do than turn people into animals against their will?”
Geralt braced himself for the attack or curse that was sure to follow, but instead hesitated as the sorcerer only laughed.
“You’ve got spirit.” The man said with an easy grin. “Have you any interest in joining my collection?”
“I should think not, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.” Jaskier said hotly. “Now leave us be, we solved your stupid curse by finding the medallion so the show’s over. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“Jaskier...” Geralt warned quietly, on edge at how many insults were being flung at the very powerful magic user. But neither of them paid him any attention.
“Medallion?” The man asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Geralt’s witcher medallion.” Jaskier said impatiently, motioning to the medallion in question. “The key to lifting your curse? We put it back on him and he became a person again?”
“Oh, it wasn’t the medallion that did it. Not really.” The man said dismissively. “Although that would have been a much more interesting key had I thought of it at the time.”
“How do you mean?” Jaskier asked, looking as surprised as Geralt felt.
“I’m afraid my curse was far more basic than that.” The sorcerer said, looking them over, his bored expression back. “It was broken by your fool of a witcher caring for someone who cared for him back as much as I cared for my poor Truskawka, may she rest in peace. I’d assumed such a violent brute would never find a cure like that.”
“Shows what you know.” Jaskier said, really starting to scare Geralt with how cocky the bard sounded. Or at least Geralt might have felt frightened if it weren’t so endearing.
“Well if you’re going to be so stubborn about it then fine, we’ll say the medallion was the cure all along and that it was my idea from the start.” the sorcerer said, nodding his head. “Still, do be careful where you take it off and on though, or I’ll get those wolf teeth yet.”
And with no further ceremony the man winked out of sight. There one moment and then gone the next. Vanished as quickly as he’d come.
“Hang on!” Jaskier spluttered. “Come back! What’s that meant to mean? Get back here and explain yourself!”
“Jaskier if you keep shouting at him you’re going to end up cursed into a lark or some nonsense.” Geralt said, lowering his sword and pulling Jaskier back.
“You heard what he said!” Jaskier said hotly, looking up at him. To Geralt’s dismay there were the beginnings of tears in the bard’s eyes. “You’re not really uncursed after all! What if he did that just because I brought the idea to his mind? What if it’s my fault that-”
Geralt silenced him with a kiss, gently taking hold of Jaskier’s arm until he settled.
“I don’t think that was something new he added just now,” Geralt said gently, still marveling at being able to use words to comfort Jaskier. “I expect it was already there without us knowing and he just has a flare for drama. Like you.”
“Don’t compare me with that thing!” Jaskier huffed. “If you’re still cursed then-”
“It’s not much of a curse when I’m with you.” Geralt said.
“You’re telling me you didn’t mind being a wolf?” Jaskier said skeptically.
“I’m telling you that we already know how to fix it.” Geralt said, holding his medallion and looking at the innocently glinting sliver surface. “I never take it off anyway, it won’t make much of a difference to me if I’ll be a wolf again without it.”
“You really didn’t mind it that much?” Jaskier asked, his mouth quirking into a smile. “Because you were with me?”
“I’ve never been able to enjoy life as simply as I did when I was only your wolf, it might be nice to revisit sometimes.” Geralt said. “As long as you were willing to look out for me again and keep the medallion safe for me I don’t think I’d mind at all.”
“As long as you do realize I’m not going to give you a bit of slack for misbehaving as a wolf now that I know it’s really you.” Jaskier teased. His eyes widened. “Hang on, you chewed apart one of my favorite boots last month! Geralt, that was expensive leather! Was there a dangerous snake inside it or something?”
“Ah…yes. Definitely. Had to protect you from the, uh, the snake.” Geralt lied, keeping his face as unguilty as possible, remembering how bored he’d been after two days without much exercise and Jaskier’s boots lying beside him on the floor. “I promise I’ll buy you a new pair as soon as I’ve taken a few contracts.”
“Well, I suppose that’s alright then, as long as you don’t do it again.” Jaskier said. He looked at the medallion at Geralt’s chest, eying it a bit warily. “So…do you want to test it?”
“No, not tonight. I’m still adjusting to having two legs again.” Geralt said with a yawn. He pulled Jaskier into a hug, nuzzling at his neck. “And besides, I like being the one to hold you for a change.”
“Well, I certainly won’t argue with that.” Jaskier said, kissing Geralt’s forehead. “I’m still going to write that song though, although I might have to be a bit more careful with the details now that I know the story isn’t ended yet.”
“I’d say it’s only just begun.” Geralt said, smiling at Jaskier’s delighted yelp as he swept the bard up into his arms to carry him back to their campfire.  
 ----------
I don't have anything else specifically in mind for the witcher wolf series, but if you have an idea you're itching to see realized or discussed (during the time Geralt is cursed or even after they figure out the medallion's trick) feel free to drop me an ask I just might take the bait.
Thank you so much for reading! <3   
- Wit  
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inmyarmswrappedin · 4 years
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DRUCK reactions - s4 ep4
No, I haven’t forgotten about these! I’m a bit behind, but I’m still on track to finish before s5 starts. Although I hope to be done even earlier, because I don’t know if Amira N’s season is going to leave me with a lot of free time.
( @wodrueckts looked this over! 💛)
CLIP 1: Smooth operator
Amira is finishing up her prayer, when we get a quick cut to a picture of Amira and Sam pinned to Amira’s mirror. So, even though Amira and Mohammed had like three separate moments in the last clip of last episode, Druck wants us to think Sam is still in the picture (literally).
Amira gets a text from an unknown number saying, “Wow, Amira, thanks!” She asks who that is, but then checks her other messaging apps for good measure.
So last Friday, Mohammed sent himself a text from Amira’s phone, making Amira out to have for Mohammed the feelings Mohammed has for Amira. Specifically, “I really like you, but you make me really shy somehow.” I like you, but you intimidate me a bit, as Mohammed has been communicating to Amira pretty much since the start. Calling her the woman with the ice cold gaze and such.
I mean, since this is a fiction series and not real life, we know Mohammed is genuine about his feelings. He isn’t playing Amira, he’s her endgame. But this is such a fuckboy move, lol. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me none of the Penetrator Chrises (or the Williams) would pull something like this.
Amira can’t believe this man, but she’s also charmed! Relatable.
It’s really cute that Amira is so incredulous that Mohammed asks her if texting himself from her phone is bad, that she actually says “Yes!” out loud before she texts it to him.
Mohammed can’t see how charmed Amira actually is, so he acts a bit more vulnerable and confesses he feels the same way. Or rather, that this is how he feels, since Amira wouldn’t necessarily describe herself like that. (I think Amira, rather than shy, is scared.) Of course, this too could be a tactic.
I think it’s interesting that Mohammed comes across as the biggest player of the Yousefs, certainly more than Sofiane in this early stage, but it’s Sofiane who ended up playing Imane.
Anyway, Mohammed sends Amira a song that he hopes she likes. And I think it’s cute that the song is in German. We don’t know how long Mohammed has been living in Germany, but I figure German the language didn’t hugely feature in his life back in Syria. So this is a song he heard in this new country for this girl he met in this new country.
Then Mohammed teases Amira about only listening to Arabic music, and she’s like, “yeah that’s the only music I listen to!” So Mohammed immediately sends her a voice message. Of him singing. In Arabic.
This is adorable, and Amira is obviously charmed as fuck, as am I. And if Mohammed had previously sent Amira a song to symbolize his new life in Germany, this is Mohammed sharing a part of himself from before Germany. It’s very significant and, for me, the most vulnerable he’s been in this clip.
Mohammed is also a bit embarrassed by his singing voice, but Amira clearly doesn’t care. Nobody cares, Mohammed. Keep singing!
CLIP 2: Essam does dumb things to fit in
Amira wakes up to the dulcet sounds of Essam screaming, and doesn’t get what time it is at first.
She and Mohammed were texting until 11 PM, and Amira fell asleep right as she was going to send Mohammed a song. Her last text was at 23:07 and Mohammed waited until 23:53 before wishing her a good night.
A reminder to renew her vaccines for the Australia trip comes in, and Amira first curls up with her phone. Just lost in the romance of it all, until Essam’s shriek cuts through the song lmao.
Amira checks the phone again and wakes up quick when she realizes the appointment is in 45 minutes. She swears a bit, and I’m very intrigued by this because Amira Naybet avoids swear words entirely, going for PG versions of Spanish swear words.
She’s in a rush now, but Essam has locked himself in the bathroom and refuses to come out. They have a bit of a back and forth (Amira’s threats don’t intimidate Essam at all, it seems) before Essam, having wrapped his hair in a towel, finally opens the door.
He asks Amira not to laugh at him and then reveals that he’s bleached his hair… badly. It’s not even yellow, it’s pretty much orange. Amira says he looks like Donald Trump. Trump wishes he had that much hair tbh.
Essam is actually really upset, and even hides his face in the crook of his elbow.   But fortunately he starts laughing a little once Amira cracks up at him. I don’t think I could take sad Essam, it’s completely antithetical to who he is!
Amira asks Essam why he did that to his hair, and said she would’ve helped him if he asked. Essam is all, “no, you wouldn’t. You hate me. You don’t love me at all.” And he just sounds so sincere that I believe he believes that. Like he’s so used to Amira bickering with him (and probably complaining about him to their parents lbr) that he thinks his big sister hates him. It’s just another way in which Essam’s self-esteem is absolutely fragile despite his brash nature.
Essam eventually confesses that he did it because girls (the girls he’s attracted to, that is) only like blond men. The music indicates this is a vulnerable moment for Essam. He feels like he will never be attractive to girls because he’s not white. To Essam, Amira must seem like someone who doesn’t care to fit in with white Germans, because she’s not voicing any complaints that white German boys aren’t knocking at her door. But Essam does want that. Both the white German girls and to fit in.
Anyway, Amira gets this is Essam opening up to her, so she tells him she’ll help fix up his hair. She’s in the middle of sharing her game plan when Mohammed sends a pic, which briefly distracts her.
Essam also sounds sincere when he thanks Amira, and Amira in turn assures Essam she’ll always help him… Though she’s still going to take a picture of him looking like Donald Trump.
We break out of Amira’s POV for a moment, to follow Essam a little longer as he looks at himself in the mirror and tries a Donald Trump sneer. He’s too cute to really pull it off, I’m afraid.
CLIP 3: Everyone (except Amira) is having sex!
I’ll just get it out of the way and say I don’t hate the David/Matteo make outs, nor do I think they were unnecessary.
Like the split screen editing is a bit 🤪 🤪 🤪 creativity! 🤪 🤪 🤪, but the point of this clip is that Amira is surrounded by sexually active people. And David and Matteo have always kept their PDA at cuddling and pecks on the lips in front of people, so it makes sense to me that we’d need to be back on their POV to 1. Show they are into each other, without 2. Actually talking about it with Amira, which would come across as awkward and weird because they’re not that kind of besties.
Like yes, it’s fanservice, but it makes way more sense from a storyline and character standpoint to do it like this than how other Skams handled it.
Though I find it amusing that Druck stans are so vocally opposed to the scene lmao.
Moving on, Kiki and Carlos’ screams of pleasure not only wake up the whole neighborhood from their afternoon naps, but also put off David and Matteo from pursuing their own activities in the hallway.
Amira comes up to them while they’re listening to music and is like, “hey why aren’t you going in?” They’re like, “we don’t want to mention the S word in front of you.” But Amira gets the picture quick once she comes closer to the door.
Druck teases its fans mercilessly as Matteo prods David into admitting his application film is an alien movie with flying body parts. David tries to argue that it’s deeper than that, but lbr this sounds like some campy Z movie nonsense with terrible special effects AND I’M HERE FOR IT. How dare Druck deprive me of this?
Amira’s like, “Yeah that sounds terrible.” Then she starts bickering with Mohammed over text, which makes David and Matteo very 👀 👀 (not that they’re relevant in this season lol).
Then, Sam comes in, and asks why they’re all outside. Unlike Amira, she figures it out for herself and outright asks whether they’re fucking. But she says it in a very pleased way, like she might come in and offer them drinks or condoms, ah god love you!
Amira can’t even take this bit of discussion of sex and wants to come in and end it all. I guess it’s because she’s wondering if people are just going to keep arriving and talking about Kiki and Carlos fucking, although it might also be because she doesn’t know how to be around Sam right now. (Because Sam isn’t just comfortable with people having sex, but she’s sexually active herself.)
Sam grabs Amira’s arm and says not to interrupt Kiki and Carlos, because maybe they’re doing the Happy Baby pose… And like… That’s a yoga pose. I’ll just let y’all google that.
Amira is like, ENOUGH OF THIS! And Sam’s like Okay, miss Priss! Amira wants a second opinion from David and Matteo about this prissiness, and they both plead the fifth.
Right after Sam’s called Amira prissy and put her on the defensive, Sam then says that, in the middle of making out with Abdi, she noticed Amira and Mohammed having a Moment. She’s like, I didn’t know you liked him, I’ll back off.  Amira denies being into Mohammed, but Sam doesn’t buy it.
And like… That’s it for this storyline. It’ll never come up again.
I know that doing away with the Skam love triangle pleased the fandom, but I mean, did Druck really get rid of it? They incorporated it, it features heavily in the first couple episodes and is one of the reasons Amira initially is unsure about the viability of her relationship with Mohammed… But it’s never explored in a meaningful way. It doesn’t develop Sam beyond being interested in boysssssss, it doesn’t develop Sam and Amira’s friendship or explore its nuances as well as the nuances of the hypersexualization of black women as opposed to the assumption that hijabis are repressed. Amira doesn’t even get to tell Sam she likes Mohammed onscreen, she tells Mia instead.
Again, this is a storyline that comes across as not something the writers particularly wanted to do, but they needed some filler for the first couple episodes. And the fact that the show then proceeds to decenter Sam after this, while Kiki’s role only increases, is just incredibly disappointing.
And speaking of Kiki’s presence becoming larger… With this subplot out of the way, Kiki now opens the door, looking very much like Noora when she got out of William’s car in s4. (Crazy idea, but what if it was supposed to be a reference to that? Lmao.)
She’s like, “I and Carlos just got done talking to the landlord, which was a conversation that involved no pants in my part!” Matteo calls shenanigans, Amira’s like, “right,” while Sam and David… Kinda look like they think Kiki’s never looked hotter tbh.
Like I said, I don’t have an issue with this clip, but showing Amira being surrounded by sex, yet not giving Amira the space to verbalize how she feels about this, while also getting rid of the Yousef kissing someone else angle, kinda makes this clip pointless tbh. Like the point of constantly surrounding Sana with sexually active couples was meant to make her feel like she couldn’t give Yousef what he supposedly wanted, i.e. a girlfriend who’d be physical with him.
Again, I’m not saying we have to make the Muslim main feel like shit for not being like a white German (we have enough of that with Essam), but at least give this joke a bit of depth by letting Amira talk about it. One issue with the season is that Amira gets thrown a mountain of microaggressions and ways in which she’s different, but viewers aren’t going to get the point that this adds to the pressures Amira faces unless you hit them over the head with it.
CLIP 4: Foreshadowing – the clip.
Amira is practicing boxing at home in order to have an excuse for her to be covering her hair. (Genuine curiosity, should Skams work this hard on coming up with reasons why their hijabi actresses are covering at home? Like I can see the benefit of not wanting to lead people to think hijabi cover 24/7.)
Mohammed texts her a picture of Angela Merkel doing Merkel hands on which he photoshopped a screenshot of Amira from Matteo’s season, along with the caption: Amira for Chancellor. Mohammed be like, I love this show DRUCK, love making shit posts for it.
Mohammed’s memes have put Amira in a great mood, and Mia chooses that moment to call Amira on Skype. Amira can barely get through the conversation, she’s giggling so much. Mia also comes off as really young in this chat, she acted like more of an adult in s3.
Mohammed keeps texting Amira flirty messages about Amira’s political career, and Mia notices that she’s distracted. She wants to know who’s making Amira smile so much, and Amira deflects and says it’s just her brother. Mia notes that Sam’s been raving about Amira’s brothers (so not just Mohammed), and she and Amira have a bit of a back and forth about Amira hiding Essam and Omar from them.
Then Mohammed sends Amira another meme in which he shops himself as Chancellor Amira’s spin doctor, which is both the cutest and saddest bit of foreshadowing. Amira, not being genre savvy, just finds it charming.
Mia wants to know what’s so funny, and Amira’s like, “can you keep a secret?” Mia, being a former Druck main and thus having seen some shit, is immediately alarmed about what this secret might be, and promises to not say a word.  
But there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing! Amira’s secret is that she kind of likes Mohammed. Not too much because he’s so tall and his hair is so nice and his eyes so dark. His eyebrows are terrible and so is his moustache that makes Amira zero in on his full, soft lips. Plus his body is so nice because he’s always working out! Mia’s like, so where’s the catch?
Amira’s crush is gigantic, and Mia’s so excited for her, but there’s still something holding Amira back. Maybe it’s that it all seems so easy with Mohammed, or that Amira’s not ready to revise her position that all men are shit, or you know, maybe it’s as simple as Amira enjoying being the lovesick one for once and indulging in the giddiness.
At any rate, Alex is visiting Mia next week (in Spain, where Mia totally is), so that’s coming up.  
CLIP 5: Famous last words
Amira and her mom sit down to watch a movie. Amira’s mom is happy to be spending time with her daughter, but Amira is on her phone because Mohammed has asked her, for the hundredth time now, whether she wants to go on a date with him. The man is running out of creative ways to ask Amira out, and she’s still all No ❤️
Amira’s mom wants to know who she’s texting, and Amira says it’s just Kiki. Because Kiki is Amira’s bestie now. Amira’s mom likes her though. She thinks she’s nice and also reminds the viewers of a potential Kiki storyline by commenting on her weight. In hindsight I don’t know why I ever thought s5 wouldn’t somehow deal with Kiki, because the writing is so clearly setting up a Zoë season about Kiki.
Amira’s mom says Amira never confides in her anymore, and eh. I mean, Amira did just lie about who she’s texting, but when Sana’s mom said this to Sana in Skam, it was more significant because Sana had been hiding her Russ plans from her for over three seasons. Amira has been pretty forthcoming with her mom in comparison. She knows about her friends (or about Kiki, at least) and about the trip to Australia. She doesn’t need to know about Amira’s delivery job because she doesn’t have it anymore.
Anyway, Amira bites her lip because she can’t hide this feeling anymore! She likes a boy! He’s nice and smart and cooks well, and Amira’s mom teases her that she’ll never go hungry then, as Amira just burnt the popcorn.
Amira’s mom wants to know whether the boy is handsome (of course!) and Muslim (of course! Famous last words). She wants to meet the boy, but Amira would like to get to know Mohammed better first, which is never going to happen if she keeps turning him down.
With that out of the way, they finally resume watching the movie, which seems to be a Bollywood one because the characters dance all the time. Is it a movie where the climax happens at a wedding, perhaps?? It looks like all the dancing helps Amira make her mind up, as she says, “You only live once.”
CLIP 6: Never leave the house
Amira meets Mohammed at a park, and they exchange a bunch of “Na?” because they’re dumb and into each other. Then Mohammed bravely asks Amira if she missed him, as if he didn’t know at this point that Amira is going to laugh at him. Which she does, because she says no.
They’re in the midst of some mating dance, when Amira notices a hijabi and (presumably) her daughter. She hides behind a tree, because she doesn’t want to be the hot gossip at the mosque, but Mohammed is all, “aw, I remember when I wasn’t traumatized by war and cared about trivial shit like this.”
Or maybe he doesn’t care because he never goes to the mosque. Okay, okay. I’ll stop.
At any rate, this is the first time that Mohammed says or does something that would actually pose a problem to Amira. This is quickly brushed aside because they get lost in each other’s eyes as soon as they make eye contact.
Kiki rudely interrupts this moment, but Amira’s like, “I’m busy, bye.” So she and Mohammed go on a musical montage where they box and push each other, and Mohammed sticks a flower in Amira’s hijab. Just enjoying the romance of it all! Until Amira notices Kiki’s called her three times, and I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.
It turns out that, while the parents were away, Essam decided to throw a rager. And he invited Kiki as he’s been working hard for her to notice him on insta. Kiki thought Amira would be attending this party when she got the invite, and has by now realized Amira wouldn’t approve of any of this.
Amira arrives at the party with Mohammed hot on her heels, and Kiki starts apologizing for thinking this was all on the up and up. Amira says her parents are at a wedding for the whole weekend, and Kiki gets distracted by Amira’s pretty lipstick. I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.
Amira confronts Essam, whose hair is looking a lot better than last time we saw it. Essam doesn’t seem to realize the seriousness of the situation, so Amira leans in and sniffs Essam’s breath. She asks Essam if he’s been drinking but he says no. However, he must be totally out of it because he wanders off, hypnotized by Kiki’s mermaid-esque beauty (or something).
Essam starts dancing with Kiki, who looks uncomfortable but goes along with it. At one point he puts his hand on her hip, and she grabs it and removes it from her body. Carlos (who has been blowing off his friends for weeks but is at this party, lol) notices this as it happens. Carlos shoves Essam and they start fighting.
Essam is bigger, or the German boy squad are lovers, not fighters, or Carlos was totally holding back, but either way Essam gets the upper hand and needs to be pulled off by both Amira and Mohammed. Kiki gets mad at Carlos for getting territorial over her. This is like, one of the most actually feminist moments to happen in a Skam that isn’t Skam España, I gotta say. Meanwhile Amira and Mohammed try to hold Essam accountable, but he starts feeling sick.
As this is all happening, Amira’s mom texts her to let her know that they came back because dad is, coincidentally, also sick (but not for the same reason lol).  Amira tells Kiki, who takes charge of the situation and kicks everyone out. She literally shoves people out of the house, and I just think Kiki was born to do this, tbh.
If you think about Kiki’s mom being an alcoholic, it kinda makes sense that Kiki thinks of spraying some air freshener as she leaves. She also takes a crate of bottles with her, but because this is Sana’s season, a couple are left behind. Amira and Mohammed weirdly hide them under a cushion, even though they have time to fold a blanket and regroup.
Mohammed thinks the date didn’t go too badly!
As Amira’s parents walk in, Mohammed has to carry Essam from where he was previously sitting on the floor waiting for the bathroom to be free, to a couch.
Amira’s mom is surprised to see Mohammed in the house, and I’m like, “why though?” It’s not like his outfit screams date (whereas Amira totally looks date-ready), and he and Essam are friends. Parents are so annoying, bless.
But she gets over it, especially as she notices Essam in a fetal position. She comes over to greet him and notices he’s cradling a vodka bottle like a baby, and of course she asks Amira and Mohammed what that is, cause you know, as the older sibling and friend they should be looking after him!
And then, Mohammed, Amira’s self-proclaimed spin doctor, tells Amira’s mom that he brought the bottle (and it just fell into Essam’s hands I guess lol). Amira’s mom is angry and reminds Mohammed that they’re Muslims, which makes me wonder if she knows he doesn’t believe in Allah. She’s also upset at Amira, because you know, they were just watching a movie yesterday and suddenly Mohammed is bringing vodka to her house for Essam to consume excessively, as Amira supposedly watches on in approval.
Amira doesn’t even respond, she’s so upset.
I think Druck pulled off this storyline the best out of the Sana versions, including Skam itself. One of the biggest problems with this storyline in Sana’s season is that it affected characters Sana wasn’t all that close to. Like, best buds and everything, but at the end of the day, Isak and Sana rarely hung out. Because the show is ultimately about the girl squad, not Isak’s squad or his friendship with Sana. So in Skam this storyline affected a school friend of Sana’s, his boyfriend, and a friend of her brother’s. Druck instead made it about Amira’s brother, one of Amira’s closest friends and her boyfriend.
Druck also chose to introduce this storyline in a multi pov episode, so that we got a better understanding of Kiki’s and Carlos’ mindsets going into the episode.
This will be more debatable, but I personally prefer that Druck didn’t hide the fight from us. In Skam, we don’t get to see the fight because Sana is supposed to believe those islamophobic Pepsi Max girls (and Yousef’s interpretation of why Even transferred) over her own brother. And I’m sure part of Julie’s intention was to make Skam viewers examine their own assumptions as to what happened, but the thing is… If people don’t want to examine their prejudices, they simply won’t. There are Skam viewers who, to this day, are convinced that Julie bowed to political correctness or whatever the fuck.  Druck makes all the characters’ motives clear and show us how the fight happened, and I’m sure there will still be assholes, but at least it’s not a “he said that’s what happened” situation.
It also doesn’t involve hypothetically homophobic Muslims, which was already dealt with in Isak’s (and Matteo’s) season. I personally don’t think this topic needs a rehash in a Sana season unless Sana herself is queer. Similarly, by making Amira’s brother the person to bring alcohol into the house, you don’t need to make the Sana bow down to the peer pressure of white mean girls.
Given that Essam is the one to bring alcohol into the house and to get handsy with Kiki, Druck did the absolutely correct thing and showed us Essam’s vulnerability before the fight. I would say, aside from Yousef, none of the Skam balloon squad was vulnerable in the same fundamental level that Essam is. Of course Elias is happy to hear that Even asked about him, and Mikael is quiet for a moment when he sees Even in his contact list. But ultimately, that’s friend drama. Essam changing his hair in hopes to fit in and be liked is about Essam himself.
I think Druck dropped Essam’s character arc right there because they intended season 5 to air in fall or winter last year. (Otherwise, why make Essam and Zoë Machwitz be the same age?) Now that both Zoë and Essam would be in their last year of high school, and Nora is slated to be the main instead, I hope they find a way to still fit Essam in there. So at least one Mahmood is done justice, you know.
On the downside, the focus on the Essam/Kiki/Carlos/vodka storyline means that Amira’s and Mohammed’s first date is not just cut short, but because of Druck’s time constraints, it also means that it’s mostly cuteness set to music.
Social media
Apparently Abdi heard that, without an insta, he just couldn’t match up to Mohammed, so he got one. Of course the first person he tells is Sam…
Mia posts a picture of a flamenca, because she’s in Madrid. Alex sends her a bunch of messages about arriving on Sunday, but Mia doesn’t respond to them (she did read them though).
Kiki posted a video of her workout, with Essam posting a similar video the day after to no response from Kiki. Kiki later posts a video of her yoga session, and when Essam does the same thing, he actually goes ahead and tags her in the story. The second hand embarrassment was felt across the globe.
After Amira tells Mia about her crush on Mohammed, she texts Sam to let her know as well. Sam takes it well (she’d pretty much figured it out after all). They agree to hang out later, and we get a couple pics on insta to commemorate the event. Which Abdi later copies to get Sam’s attention.    Just a terrible week for thirsty men on Druck.
Meanwhile, Matteo takes David to meet his mom, and David later posts an evocative drawing to commemorate the event. And that’s all we’re ever told about that, much to the frustration of David/Matteo stans.
Abdi poses with a sleeping Sam and posts the pic to his insta and omg, Abdi! Just stop.
Before the party, Kiki and Carlos fight over text because Carlos has decided to get a Fachabi rather than an Abi (so, like, a kind of high school diploma that would make it harder for him to go to uni, and better suited for a trade) without telling Kiki. I gotta say, I know Kiki and Carlos have moved in together and everything, but I think Carlos’ tertiary education being a team decision is way too intense for two high school graduates, as far as I see it.
There’s this one pic from Kiki’s stories where Essam is posing with a bunch of white girls, and it just gave me the worst flashbacks to those sorority videos where everyone is scarily in sync.
Final thoughts
The boy squad and balloon fight is the turning point in Sana’s season, and by moving it up and combining it with the booze left behind storyline, Druck turned it into a side storyline about Essam, instead. As I said, I think they pulled it off much better than Skam, but it also means that this is Amira’s third episode and Druck has chewed through most of the storylines in Sana’s season (including the love triangle with Noora/Sam, which is tossed aside this episode).
At this point, the only storylines left are Yousef’s lack of faith, Noorhelm drama and… The cyberbullying storyline which ends up unintentionally hurting Vilde. Ideally, Druck would’ve focused on the former of the three, and would have still gotten four episodes to really deal with it in a nuanced way, but we’ll see how that worked out.  
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Chapter 2 Summary
Okay I got this I wrote the damn thing I can tell you what’s important, right? But I hope you won’t forget the things that were important to you the first time you read it - I had kind of hoped for that more personal touch, but I don’t mean to ask too much. That being said, I am just writing this as a brief overview - if you need to know things about the boys to help them or hurt them, I leave that up to you. I will not comment on their emotional reactions, weaknesses, or the ramifications to come if at all possible.
Ch. 2 Summary
Having left Norway, Anti has moved his family of puppets to a much warmer climate, somewhere the police have yet to be alerted to their presence like they were by the theft of the Haldol. The boys are living in an abandoned medical clinic at the top of an impoverished mountain. Doktor is allowed to care for people who come to him, but he is not allowed to see his twin. Trick had a suicide attempt following his possession in Norway on the night Marvin died and now Anti has cloistered him in Anti’s own room, replacing Dapper with Trick, though he plans to have Dapper returned to him once Trick is stable enough to go back to the others. Doktor has been given Dapper to care for instead in the time being.
Blue struggles with his magical powers near the beginning of the chapter, his hands shaking and turning blue with magic when his emotions rise. He is not allowed to use his powers because Anti has not learned to cloak his signals and magical presence the way he has learned to cloak Dapper’s and his own. Red, against Anti’s orders, often helps Blue to hide the fact that he is struggling to control it instead of reporting the dysfunction to Anti.
Dapper shows strong resistance to Anti at the beginning of the chapter, and in fact slaps him when Anti tries to force him back into submission. Anti becomes violent with Dapper, and then, when Doktor convinces him that it was Dok’s fault for allowing Dapper to become psychotic again, with Doktor. Doktor is hanged by the throat for the night in punishment, while Dapper is dragged back to Anti’s room to be put back into his place. Because Anti believes Dapper has become psychotic again, he decides to change his medication.Trick is glad to have a companion other than Anti for a little while. In the morning, Blue and Red take Doktor down from his chain and care for him. Later, Anti forces Dapper back into a more obedient headspace by forcing him to wear a collar and dapper clothes and to play with his puppets like he used to a long time ago. Dapper fights hard, but Anti uses so much power on him that, over the next few days, Anti is extremely weak and confined to his bed.
On Hanukkah, Anti gives Doktor candles to celebrate and promises him that if he’s good, he can see Trickshot again for Christmas. He gives Red money to take Dok and Blue into the city and buy Christmas and Hanukkah presents.
On the way home from buying the presents, Red realizes that they are being stalked by a young man and decides to draw him away from his younger brothers, telling them to return home. When the young man leaves the bus, Red follows. In the confrontation that follows, the young man is shown to be a magician who can create ice and disappear at will. Red manages to beat him, but then reinforcements come - a young woman called Genesis and an older woman with long dark hair called Emmanuela. Along with Hermann, they are able to pin Red down and plan to take him away. They believe Red to be a demon at first, and, once they are corrected, decide he must be taken away from the influence of the demon who has put the “darkness” in him.
Dapper arrives in time to save Red, having lived through the scenario once and deciding to take action to prevent Red from being kidnapped. Dapper stabs Hermann, but all three magicians get away. Genesis is able to teleport and escapes with her friends.
Back home, the cameras lose track of Trick, causing concern that something has happened to him. Dok rushes back to Anti’s room and finds his twin in the bathroom with a spilled bottle of medicine. Trick has not, however, tried to overdose again, deciding at the last moment that he couldn’t go through with it. Dok cries and because Anti is too weak to protest, they are allowed to reunite on Christmas Eve as Red and Dapper return home. Dapper is acting strangely - more strangely than usual - and twitching constantly.
Christmas is meant to be a nice day, but early in the morning Red and Dok discover that Anti has put Dapper on a dangerously high dose of a new anti-psychotic medication, cause side effects such as the twitching and potentially worse. Red promises Dok he will not allow Dapper to take the medicine again at this dose. They exchange several presents, including a new cat for Trick, who is named Pot Noodle. Anti hand-picks nice presents for every one of them. Dapper, like Anti, spends much of the day ill from the medication, while Red can’t seem to stop thinking about yesterday’s events.
The next morning, Red refuses to allow Anti to give Dapper his medicine and Anti decides that he has stepped out of line for the last time. However, he allows Doktor to monitor Dapper’s medication from then on out.
Red is sent to murder a man and Anti allows him to spend the night in prison, breaking down and fixated on the blood on his hands, before he comes to save Red. When we see Red next, he is more violent with his brothers than he has ever been, slapping and grabbing at his siblings to keep them under Anti’s control. He and Blue aren’t getting along and he refuses to talk to the cameras, exhausted by constant nightmares.
Genesis has been kidnapped and Dapper and Anti torture her together, destabilizing an already confused Dapper, whose medication is still not working right after the sudden, unsafe changes.
Blue’s hands are red with the pain of keeping his magic back and he shakes constantly. He can’t watch his brothers being slapped around anymore and when Genesis says he can summon help by letting his power explode, he climbs to the top of the mountain and unleashes the full force of all he’s kept back. Before this happens, however, he convinces Red to come and help him, causing the two to reunite. The outburst of his magic, however, is violent and out of control, causing plant life to explode down one side of the mountain and fire down the other. Anti must save Red from thorns crushing him and possesses Blue’s body in order to get the burned, injured thing back down to the other boys. Dapper is having a psychotic episode and is unable to reverse this major act of rebellion no matter how much Anti screams at him. Anti decides they must flee before Genesis’ friends come. He has not yet perfected the spell he came to this country to perform, but he no longer cares if he hurts Blue or not with it.
Because of their disobedience, Anti causes Red and Dapper, who had previously been trying to care for each other, to “spar” like they used to on the way to the equator. He forces the fight to become violent and not only do they beat each other badly, but Dapper is sent into his worst psychotic episode yet, babbling and fighting and reporting seeing ghosts and birds and worse. Anti handcuffs Red and Dapper together.
When they reach the equator - one of only a few places in the world Anti is able to cast the spell he wants to cast, using the book stolen from the body of the man he had Red kill - Anti sends Red to hide with Dapper and keep him safe, because the magicians are coming very quickly and he needs his time traveler safe first and foremost. He sends Trick and Dok to guard him with their sniper in the forest and drags Blue into the Rio Puturnayo to curse him.
The spell Anti uses strips Blue of his magic and gives it to Anti instead. Blue nearly dies and Anti goes into a seizure on the bank of the river, but soon his weakness is replaced with power, and he sees that the magicians have come. Wildly out of control with both dark and pure magic filling up his chest, he begins a vicious fight with the magicians. Blue’s fire magic sets the Amazon ablaze as Anti tears through his enemies. Because of the flames and the smoke, Red and Dapper are forced to put their cameras away and flee into the river. Meanwhile, Genesis, the teleporting magician, grabs Dok before anyone can stop her and disappears with him. Trick, shocked, must be saved by Anti before he can be stolen away too. Meanwhile, the young man, Hermann, sneaks down to the river and finds Blue’s dying body on the shore. Still weak from his stab wound, all he can do is perform a small healing spell and hold Blue in the river to protect him from the flames.
Anti kills and attacks several magicians, but he is growing weak from his injuries and frantic from the loss of his puppets. As the fire grows worse, the magicians retreat to focus on putting it out and Anti staggers back to the river. Finding Hermann protecting both Blue and Trickshot, he takes Blue from the magician and he, Trick, and Blue flee into the forest.
That is where the chapter leaves us.
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