#South of Nowhere season 1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortless · 10 months

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Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

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The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill.

#König x reader #konig x reader #König x you #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig #König #call of duty #if i look at this any longer i will never post it raaah #erlkönig!König is everything to me

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 month

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Eddie Diaz is from El Paso, TX and it's more than 579 miles away from Austin, TX.

(Please note: this post is for those who keep trying to get rid of Eddie and who are suggesting he transfer to the 126. So, if this doesn't apply, let it fly.)

I'm posting this for geography reasons because either some viewers of 9-1-1 LS are unaware of HOW BIG TEXAS is or they may not be from the U.S. But proximity matters and Texas is the second largest state in America (Alaska is the largest and California is third).

However, for whatever reason, every season (especially now that it's looking more and more likely that LS is getting cancelled after season 5), some viewers always say, post or comment, "Eddie should transfer to 9-1-1 Lone Star because he's from Texas." 🙄 That's a BIG NO! For several reasons.

Let's list them for kicks and giggles shall we...

First, that doesn’t make any sense because Eddie left Texas and moved himself and his son to Los Angeles, CA for a reason (I won't get into that here but trust it was mostly to get away from his parents). Secondly, 9-1-1 OG is different from 9-1-1 LS and just because they have the same showrunner, that doesn’t mean they're interchangeable. Third and more importantly, Eddie’s from EL PASO and it's NOWHERE NEAR AUSTIN (see map below).

El Paso is on the WEST side of the state and Austin (where the 126 is located) is on the EAST side close to the south; therefore if Eddie were to move back to El Paso (HE WON'T), he wouldn't be working at the 126 because IT'S TOO FAR AWAY. Furthermore, him transferring to the 126 WILL NOT PUT HIM CLOSE TO HIS SON, CHRIS BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN HE'S IN EL PASO NOT AUSTIN.

Please STOP TRYING TO WISH EDDIE WOULD RETURN TO TEXAS BECAUSE HE WON'T. He's created a life for him and his son and CHRIS WILL BE BACK IN L.A. because his father's there (and so is his second dad).

Eddie’s found family is the 118 not the 126 and BOBBY RECRUITED EDDIE which means he's not going anywhere (related post).

#buddie #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buckley #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #911 on abc #911 abc #911 meta #911 season 8 speculation #911 season 8 #Canonically Observing 9-1-1 Speaks

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noodles-doodles01 · 2 months

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HOTD EP 1 Rewrite

Ep 5 is giving heavy season 8 of GoT vibes so I'm saving myself the pain and just rewriting all the mistakes they made so far so I dont go insane in the coming weeks. I will reblog this post with each episode rewrite as they come, but heres ep 1:

*Disclaimer* I am making sure most of the plot points are still included in the rewrite whether I like them or not.

As much as I love the north opening, we save that for a bit later. Instead, we get a rainy shot of King's Landing. Its dark out and there i thunder and rain etc. We see a pair of boots walking through the halls, rushed and hasty and the music matches as well. The person's breath is also huffy and puffed, and we get shots of the water on their coat, and then a shot of Aemond's eyes as he rushes to a room.

The door barges open and Aemond comes into a room where Aegon is being lectured by Alicent and Otto. They become quiet and Alicent gets up to see what's wrong. Aemond admits what he did and Alicent slaps him, crying out "Mother help us all". We get a quick shot of Aegon witnessing the slap (yk, for character parallel reasons), and Otto begins yelling at him "my grandson is a fool" style. The camera focuses on Aegon a while and we see him almost sympathizing with his brother, so he puts on this fake act and laughs, saying that they should hold a feast, celebrating their first victory.

Back at Dragonstone, we watch as Rhaenyra rides Syrax out to find Luke in the sea, and follow Daemon and Rhaenys as they leave the dragonpit to discuss with the team. Daemon has his dialogue with Rhaenys about Laena and they make their way to the council. Team Black is all there minus Jace, and they discuss how to set up the best defence in the time they need to raise an army and attack again, since Aemond's move is OFFENSIVE. They mention how Dragonstone is unsafe, they mention how another threat is Daeron in Oldtown with his dragon, and they mention what good the North can realistically provide and how they can strategize with their travels south. Daemon then suggests using Harrenhall as a fort, since it is the crux of the Riverlands and would give them the best land defence. When contested that Harrenhall is in ruin, Daemon will explain that they have the advantage with dragon numbers and the sea with the blockade, they have some leverage that can be spent on the necessities that Harrenhall requires.

We are taken back to Rhaenyra where the sun is beginning to set, and the fishermen find a wing. Rhaenyra flies in on Syrax, finds Arrax's wing and we get the fantastic performance by Emma D'arcy that brought us all to tears. The sounds of Rhaenyra's sobs are manipulated by the audio to transition into the laughter and fun that the Greens are having at KL during the feast. Alicent is PISSED and leaves early, meanwhile Helaena and Aemond sit next to one another in discomfort. Maybe some dialogue here but idk what, but these two need more interactions.

Aegon ofc is the only one having fun, he's drunk off his mind and laughing with his idiot kingsguard friends. During this, Aegon drunkenly makes a toast and jokes about Aemond being a kinslayer, Aemond does not like the title and it comes off as Aegon's weird form of bullying (since we have to transition this kinda buildup and not bring it out of nowhere between the 2 years of s1 and s2) At Dragonstone again, Rhaenyra is coming back and Daemon is facing the fireplace holding a scroll. When he looks at her, he slams the scroll into the table and tells her that he will bring Aemond to his knees. Rhae is confused but its comforting bc she's in shambles. Daemon storms out and Rhaenyra reads the note, which gives word about the feast.

(Insert something here about Daemon and Mysaria setting up B&C)

(Insert Aemond brothel scene #1 here, and he reveals he regrets killing Luke etc etc)

When Daemon meets B&C, he tells them a son for a son, find Aemond Targaryen. if not, slay Aegon's heir. The men share a weird glance but they agree. We get the montage ofthe pair going into the castle as ratcatchers, with Aegon drunk and Helaena and Alicent putting the kids to bed. BnC burst into the room, blood binds Alicent whilst Cheese grabs the twins (who are still awake). Since the kids are so young, they cannot tell which is the son, so they force Helaena to pick. Helaena, dazed, begins to cry and says to kill her instead. Cheese tells her they only want the boy, so she lies and points at Jahaera. Cheese laughs and says the line, "Do you hear that little girl? Your mommy wants you dead", revealing that they know she's lying. At that, they shove Jahaera at Helaena and go to kill Jahaerys. Helaena starts screaming and freaking out. Bc of how gruesome the scene is I wouldn’t have the the acc death shown, but rather how her screams echo in the halls. Aegons reaction to the sound, the guards rushing towards her room.

Aegon bursts through the doors and sees Helaena on the ground crying and screaming saying “they killed my boy”

A final shot of Aegon having it dawn on him that the war is in full swing and absorbing the first “consequence”.

*end*

lmk if you have any questions about any decisions I made!

Edit; I removed Alicole entirely, bc as much as I’ve tried to rationalize it I hate it. FnB has Alicent calling Cole out for being a creep when Rhaenyra is young, so if the show has Alicent experiencing years of this kind of experience, why would she choose to be with someone like him once she gets fo leave the relation with Viserys? Plus, Alicent experiencing this moves her character forward in fully dealing with the fact that her push for the throne doesn’t go without major pushback.

#hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd season 2 #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #rhaenys targaryen #daemon targaryen #fire and blood

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sludgewolf · 5 months

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We need to talk about the lack of "filler" in series that're been released recently

I just watched a video about ATLA and it's filler or lack there of and, they're right, ATLA doesn't have filler episodes as we define "filler episodes" now. Our understanding of filler is closer to what's used for anime that is, non canon episodes that are made so the anime doesn't catch up with the manga. Applying this to western animation (I say animation bc I graduated in it thus a better understanding and I don't really watch many live action series so I don't have much of a say) we ended up with the impression that it means "episodes that don't move the plot forward"

Which, doesn't make sense with Western animation since most of it isn't a adaptation of something else, or with comic adaptations for ex, they're mostly adaptations of various arcs coming together as a single story. Smt very different from the manga to anime adaptation process

Comparing ATLA who positively doesn't have "filler" and X-men 97 who negatively doesn't have "filler" is a good example of what I'm trying to say.

Not all of ATLA episodes move the "learn the elements and defeat the firelord" plot forward and that's good thank fuck not all episodes are rushing ahead to throwing this 12yo we barely know into a battle with a full grown adult who's perpetrating a war against the rest of the world. Instead we actually get to know the characters, we see them traveling from the South to the North Pole instead of spawning where the plot demands, we see Aang adapt to the world post iceberg nap and learn to be the avatar, we see the effect the 100 year war had in this world. And most of all, the more "filler" episodes contributed to the pacing of the series, when binging the series now I still feel like the Gaang traveled across the whole world and didn't just teleport to the plot.

Opposed to X-men 97, don't get me wrong I'm absolutely loving it but the story is always being racing forward at a breakneck speed. They did try to pace it better inter cutting the main plot with Scott, Jean, Madelyne, Wolverine's whole deal and the "LifeDeath " plot, but if there wasn't the weekly wait for the next episode we would not have any time to breathe and digest what happened in the episodes.

I'm still confused on how Madelyne went from trying to have a normal life outside the x-men to being in Genosha's council. Still on Madelyne, I didn't care that they had to part ways with Nathan, ik he's their baby and all that, but as soon as they named the baby Nathan I knew they were throwing that baby to the future to complete the time loop of him being in the original series. And that's because they never got the chance to try to make us care, the writing team couldn't waste time with that since they only had 8 episodes to tell all these stories, the speed that the plot is being taken makes me believe that when writing this season Disney still hadn't signed on the second season and when they did it was too late to rework the script.

This whole thing is reminding me of Hazbin Hotel's pacing problems, analyzing it as if I didn't watch the pilot, we just met the characters and suddenly had to care that they were going to die in six months, we don't really know Charlie other than 1. she's Lucifer's daughter, 2. daddy issues that aren't rly addressed besides jokes, 3. she's with Vaggie (other character we didn't get to know) and 4. she's the owner of the hotel and wants to rehabilitate the sinners. The worst part of it is, we teleported from the start of the season to 6 months later out of nowhere and suddenly we're at the finale with the big boss battle. Of course HuskDust is a more popular ship than Charlie and Vaggie, we never got the chance to see them being together other than in episodes when the characters are being dragged by the plot while Angel and Husk had an episode where we met them and got the time to see them interact without being pushed by the extermination plot

This is exactly why "filler episodes" are important, we should actually know who these characters are before the big fight at the end so we can actually care about what happens to them. X-men 97 may not suffer that much from it but it's because we already knew most of the characters, but we never got to meet this version of Madelyne, see her going out alone to a world that hates her existence, see her morn having been forced to send her baby off to the future and maybe not being able to see him ever again and finally see never see how did she even end up in Genosha.

Or Storm, sure we got a two parter, but how did she get to fuck knows where to meet Forge in that bar, what did she go through during the time she was traveling alone, it's not as if people wouldn't recognize her as a x-men even if she'd left the team, maybe see more of how the relationship between her and Forge developed, cuz I didn't get why she still wants to be with him even after he basically created the tec that was turned into the weapons used to kill mutants, that's smt one can't just forgive, and yes I'd like to see her as she struggles with not having her powers, smt other than she feeling lonely without the wind (this would work even as just a montage with sad music as she travels to the fuckall haunted desert)

On a rly quick note on Invincible I do think they did a good job with their pacing and character development with the time they had, I'd like to have seen a bit more of Rex's development from complete douche to Lizard Leader homemade lobotomy to where we are now, but on the Grayson family whole thing they did an amazing job at showing how they're dealing with the aftermath of season 1, there was just a little jump from Debbie downing a bottle of wine every day to full bug mom mode but I do think she'd step up to it no doubt.

Maybe just some scenes of her still working through s1 trauma and questioning wtf is wrong w Nolan bc from her perspective he just killed hundreds of ppl on Earth, almost killed Mark, fucked off to space and suddenly there's a purple half bug baby living in her house calling her mom. But I don't think that's strictly necessary since there's always fanfiction to bridge this gap and it's just a minor thing that bothered me

TLDR: Filler in western cartoons isn't really filler, these are just episodes to help develop the world or characters without having to rush with the plot and also episodes that help with the pacing of the story, thus showing the passage of time or great distances being crossed without having the characters spawn at the next plot point. And we do need it specially for shows that are intended for binging, such as most shows now. What determines good filler from bad filler here is good writing

#atla #avatar the last airbender #x men 97 #hazbin hotel #invincible #animation discussion #on writing #pls feel free to add to this id love to see other ppls opinions on this #moss thoughts #just had to get this out #i do think in my friend group im the most annoying one when it comes to analyzing the script and how things are executed #im also the only comics nerd so i dont have anyone to talk to so to here it all goes

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redeemers-and-dragons · 5 months

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Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Part 4

Temple Bell: RING. RING. RING.

Narration: The Temple of Chauntea is a large square building, made of fieldstone with a peaked slate roof. One of its two bell towers rings, catching a gleam of moonlight every swing, a cry for help. Several groups of masked men and kobolds surround the building, seeking to force their way in, or force the trapped townsfolk out. Jaune and Adam peer over the cobble stone wall that borders the sacred grounds to the south.

Jaune: *Holds onto his holy symbol, stemming his anger at the sight of a religious sanctuary being flagrantly defiled this way.* …What’s the count?

Adam: Two gray masks and six kobolds at the back door. Looks like they’re trying to start a fire.

Neon: *Slinks her way to their sides from the left.* I also got two gray masks and six kobolds with a battering ram at the front doors. There is also a really creepy guy with a white mask. Looks like the boss.

May: *Drops down from a tree from behind them* I also count a wandering parade of three gray masks, ten kobolds, and two guard drakes. Should be coming around the corner… now.

Narration: *On May’s que, a trio of men in masks slowly lead a procession of chanting kobolds, all either stomping their clawed feet and spears or banging their shields with their fists and blades. On either side of the line of kobolds prowls two dog-like reptile creatures that snap, growl, and foam at the mouth, wanting to tear apart anything that even looks their way.*

Gray Mask: *Beating a hand drum.* Do not be fooled by your false idols! Their promises cannot protect you anymore than these doors can. Only the Dragon Queen can spare you now…

Kobolds: Break. To. Bits! Burn. To. Ash! Break. To. Bits…!

The Party: *They watch as the procession turns the corner again, taking their chants of violence with them.*

Adam: Outnumbered 8 to 1. You don’t need to be a seasoned general to know those are unfavorable odds.

May: We just need to get the civilians out. By my calculations they’ll circle the church every eight minutes. That’d be a four minute window at best before the rest discover us attacking one side.

Neon: Well we better attack quickly, because I’m not totally confident in that front door holding for long.

Jaune: *He studies the group of invaders at the back piling hay and dried grass at the bottom of the heavy wooden door, thick smoke rising to the night sky* Alright, then here’s the plan…

~O~O~O~O~O~

Narration: *Caught up in their task of tending to the fire by the back door, many of the kobolds failed to notice the elementally charged crossbow bolt that zipped past them, striking the tinder pile. The resulting explosion sent a shower of burning debris into the air, accompanied by a thick cloud of blinding smoke that engulfed the area, leaving the kobolds and masked men disoriented and struggling to breathe.*

Gray Mask #1: *Cough! Cough* What the hell?

Adam: *Charges in from out of nowhere, shoulder checking the masked man flying straight into the wall of the temple so hard, you’d swear he cracked the stone.*

Gray Mask #2: *Coughs as she draws her hand crossbow on Adam, but has it immediately knocked out of her hand by a nun-chuck.*

Neon: *Spins her nun chuck and hits the Gray Mask right in the jaw, knocking her mask off, then immediately roundhouse kicks a kobold.*

Jaune: *Charges in and shield bashes a kobold then raises it against the spear of a different one, fending the kobolds off until the masks are dealt with.*

Gray Mask #1: *Coughs blood as he stumbles back to his feet, raising a poisoned dagger. Before he can strike, a crossbow bolt nails his arm to the wall. Before he can yell in pain, Adam knocks his head against the wall again, causing him to slump.*

Adam: *Grunts and wields his massive great sword in two hands and slashes through two kobolds in one swipe.*

Gray Mask #2: *Draws a hand ax and swings at Neon*

Neon: *Catches the arm and judo throws the woman over her shoulder*

May: *Runs up and hits the woman with the butt of her great crossbow, knocking her out.*

Jaune: *Gets stabbed in the arm by a kobold’s spear. He uses his sword to cut the spear in half and kicks the kobold back into the squad.* SLEEP!

Kobolds: *The kobolds scramble to get back on their feet, but the spell has been done. Jaune points his sword at them, commanding them to sleep. Almost instantly, the kobolds start to drool and yawn, falling into a deep slumber before they even make it on their feet again.*

Jaune: *He can barely take a single breath before he orders the team back into action. There just wasn’t any time to waste now.* Adam, get the door.

Adam: *Nods before thrusting the tip of his great sword along the hinges of the thick wooden door. With a show of effort, the minotaur managed to pry the door out of the doorway, causing an uproar of screams and cries of terror from inside.*

Woman: They broke in!

Man: Get the women and children away from the door!

Jaune: *Runs in, weapon holstered and holding up his Talisman of Boldrei.* It’s okay! We won’t hurt you!

Preacher: *Signs a religious symbol in praise.* Oh thank Chanteau, a paladin! Are you here to rescue us?

Jaune: Yes. But we have to go, now! We’re going to the keep! Come on!

Narration: *The preacher urges the rest of the people in the temple to follow Jaune outside, and they obey as quickly as they can. Unfortunately, there were quite a few elderly and injured people amongst the crowd, making evacuation very time consuming. The front door began splintering and cracking under the battering of the invaders, and the chanting of the procession was coming closer towards the back of the temple.*

May: *Peering around the corner at the oncoming mob of hostiles. She dips back and grabs the discarded mask from the ground and a black coat from the unconscious woman, putting them both on.* Contingency time. You think you can out run a couple of drake hounds?

Neon: Please, leading things that want a taste of me on a chase is, like, my specialty. *Takes a quick moment to stretch her legs.*

Narration: *Just as the large group of masked men and kobolds were halfway to the back of the church, they were suddenly halted by the sight of a tabaxi sprinting across their path, and then jumped right on top of the stone wall surrounding the church* Wow! Didn’t know the Ugly Parade was in town! *Laughs and winks as she drops down out of view on the other side*

May: *Limps out in her disguise, bloodied and holding herself up against the side of the temple. She points to where Neon had run off to* What are you doing?! STOP HER! *Crumples down to her knee*

Narration: *Without waiting for an answer, there was a loud roar and the pair of drake hounds burst forth and bound over the stone wall after their prey, followed by the mob of kobolds that were excited for a hunt, and lastly followed by two of the gray masks giving orders to give chase. All that was left was one Gray Mask that rushed to May’s side.*

Gray Mask: *Helping May to her feet* What happened? How did they…? *Anyone could recognize the moment of realization in the man’s eyes even through his scaled mask. It was the very moment he saw the stream of villagers escaping through the back of the church, and also the second before May slit his throat with a knife.*

May: *Covers the man’s mouth with one hand, and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him back around the corner with her before any of the other’s saw. She leaned him up against the wall before taking off her mask and helping with the evacuation.*

Adam: *As the invaders were making headway on the front doors of the temple, he would lift up entire pews and stack them right in front of it to slow them down.* We don’t have much time, Knight!

Jaune: *Ushering an old lady out* This is the last of them! We can-

Narration: *The front doors of the temple managed to be broken open with a loud crash, allowing a man in a White Mask to push his way in, along with a couple kobolds following in behind*

White Mask: You dare stand against the might of the Dragon Queen?! Infidels!!

Adam: *Hefts his great sword* I’ve been called worse.

Jaune: *Draws his long sword* You defile sacred grounds. Drop your weapon or redemption will be out of your grasp.

White Mask: *Draws a large dagger shaped like a jagged icicle* The only thing I wish to grasp is your frozen heart! *Swings his blade, sending a magical spike of ice towards Adam*

Adam: *Tries to duck out of the way, but his large frame was an easy target. The icicle sunk into his shoulder, then shattered into crystalized fragments that rained onto Jaune before he could raise his shield.* GAH!

White Mask: *Smirks* Can’t handle a little bit of ice-?

Jaune: *Channels Divinity* Rebuke the Violent!

White Mask: Huh-? *Before the man had a chance to respond, a brilliant, radiant light emanated from Adam's wounded arm, and gleamed onto White Mask's own arm, aligning perfectly with the spot where the spell had struck. In an instant, the masked man's arm erupted into a blinding explosion of searing, radiant burns.* GAAAH!!!

Adam: *Roars at the top of his lung and charges forward, dragging his great sword into an uppercut that slashes right through the middle of the White Mask and sends him flying up towards the ceiling before landing in a bloody heap on the pile of pews by the door. This sight alone was enough to send the kobolds retreating right back through the front entrance.*

Jaune: *Runs to Adam’s side* Adam! Are you ok?

Adam: *Looks down at his frostbitten and badly slashed arm* Heal it later. We have to move.

Jaune: *Still looks worried but nods as the two of them rush out the back*

~O~O~O~O~O~

Narration: *It took a few minutes for Jaune and Adam to catch back up with the refugees, now hiding by the river with May.*

May: *Looks at Adam’s arm* Shit, what happened to you?

Adam: It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine.

Jaune: *Sighs* We’ll heal it later, right now-

Narration: *All of a sudden the sound of rustling bushes came from behind them, causing all three adventurers to turn their weapons on the source.*

Neon: *Limping out* Jeez, not even a hello for your favorite girl?

Jaune: Neon! Did you get hurt?!

Neon: No big whoop. Guess those ugly lizard dogs were a little faster than I thought, but I gave them a few good kicks and then the slip. We get everyone?

May: *Nods* Yes. We managed to get everyone out, and then some. *She gestures to a pair of townspeople keeping a hold on the once masked woman they had knocked out in the initial fight, now trying to curse through a gag and pulling at the ropes that bind her hands.*

Adam: You took a prisoner.

Neon: The heck you bring her along for?

May: I figured it was time for us to start getting some answers. This group is clearly well organized and highly motivated by some sort of cause - it's imperative that we know who we are dealing with.

Jaune: *Takes a moment to take in this new development.* May is right. We are not dealing with regular raiders here. When we get back to the keep, we need to interrogate her for whatever information we can get.

Neon: Well, Detective. Who’s gonna play Good Cop and Bad Cop?

#redeemers au #jaune arc #adam taurus #neon katt #may zedong

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summertimemusician · 1 year

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Linktober Shadow, Day 1

Gibdo

Linked Universe Time x Reader

(Can be seen as both Romantic and Platonic)

TW: Graphic Descriptions of Gore and Rot, as well as nightmares, and a bit of Whump(?) please do not read if you're highly squeamish, even if it's not long just to be safe. As this deals with dark times as is usual to Majora's Mask, may also be read outside of a Linked Universe context.

*walks on in to Dark Linktober and Linktober both with sleep deprivation, coffee and kind of late, drops this, refuses to elaborate* Kind of self indulgent but I hope whoever finds this enjoys, it's spooky season and I am taking full opportunity to go ham XD

The beast a few feet away of you was foul, with it's thin, leathery flesh barely clinging to it's bone hollow cheeks, the sickly sweet scent of rot and decay mixing with that of old, burnt flesh, barely hidden by once white, now sullied and dirty cloth in a failed attempt at appearing harmless as it slowly decayed, it's sallow, sunken yellow eyes scan the abandoned graveyard and you stay very, very still where you've sank behind the side of the Music Box House, heart like a deer's facing down a Lynel as you heard it's long, unnatural fingers drag across the stone, the click, click, click of it's nails against stone and it's tortured moans in it's everlasting, tormented hunt sending chills down your spine.

It is nowhere near the dawn of a new day and sunlight barely reached Ikana Canyon, and you had no desire to become one of the many ivory and yellowed bones of the dead in this wretched, horrible place of tragedy.

You trade a look with Link from across your hiding place, eyes stopping on his arm before forcing yourself to snap to his sapphire and iron gilded gaze again, he had to get to Pamela's Father, but this run had unexpectedly gone south from you both getting attacked midway to the canyon and him hurting his sword arm attempting to sneak past the Gibdo's. The strangled, bitten off scream that left his throat as one of the beast sank it's rotten, cracks teeth into his flesh hard enough to almost crack bone so very horrific you didn't think twice before shooting it with a flame blessed arrow and dragging him away, teeth bared in defiance, but it's disguise of sickly and wounded falling away with it's pained, furious howl to reveal a Redead had attracted more of them to your location with it's inhuman, obsidian and blood rust coated fury of necromancy cursed beasts, forcing you both to hide as you didn't have anymore fairies and potions from slaying the third of Majora's twisted, reality poisoning generals.

This was meant to be a scouting quest before a reset darn it, how had it gone so wrong so quickly?

(How much more would it take? Which one would lead to the road where your dearest friend, the people of Termina and yourself didn't burn over the unknowable, cruel whims of cursed divinity? How much more must Link bleed, give and slowly kill himself for?-)

The walking corpse groans, it's too close to his location and there are two to your other left that could rush any of you at any second, he's the one with the Ocarina and you refuse to let him try using one of those masks while wounded, you saw how he screeched like someone slowly pulling the flesh from his bones one too many times to tolerate. You twitch just as he does, but you move faster, bow already draw and with three arrows knocked, your arms straining against the taught strings.

You may not have any more flame blessed arrows, but you knew how to make fiery ones that would be just enough for the situation at hand.

Link sends you a steely glare caught between betrayal and understanding as he nods, gritting his teeth as he mouths to you a simple, pleading resquest:

'Do not die.'

"MOVE!" You snarl, as you let your arrows fly, one of them hits the Gibdo near him right in the eye and the fire catches as if it's been doused in oil and it screams writhing and squirming with pain as it tries to shrug it's cloth away. The sound between once human and abominable loud enough you swear you feel something warm dripping from your ears but have no time to check as the other two, handcrafted fire arrows cripple it's leg and one of it's arms that were creeping around your mask wielding friend's hiding spot as he books it as fast as his legs will carry him with the Bunny Hood, you whirl around, shooting the one's right around your corner with one arrow each and prepare to cover his back.

You don't look behind yourself as you hear the house's door slam shut and Tatl's cut off call of your name, instead focusing on drawing the profane beast's attention away from it, knowing they are eager to see your insides decorate the Ikana grounds to join their once living brethren, to attempt to bite down around your ribs and quaff down your lukewarm blood with vesania inked glee and maddened grieving elation as you struggle against the petrifying glare with animal franticness and all the defiance your humanity gave you as one of them holds you down and it HURTSTEARSROTSANDYOUCANNOTMOVE-

"---(Name)!"

You shoot up from your bedroll, dagger in hand, barely scraping the throat of whoever had your shoulders in a firm, but reassuring grip, breathing hard as the brief burst of adrenaline leaves your body as it comes face to face with aquamarine, phosphophylite and cinnabar marks around a beautifully night sky blue gaze with all the intensity of a wolf caring for it's pack. Your grip on the pristine blade you've taken to carrying slackening even as he already moved away with practiced ease, the same way you would when he'd lash out when you wakened him from night terrors to avoid getting your head lopped off, even knowing instinctively you'd never hurt one another.

Time.

Safe, alive, free if highly traumatized Time.

... Then again, you can't judge.

He scans you with one eye, quiet concern and understanding as he slowly moves to tuck some hair behind your ear in a low tone, dimly you note the faint squeeze to your pulse, reassuring you both as you drop your dagger to the side, much preferring to take his calloused hand in yours instead than cold, unfeeling steel, "Nightmare?"

You take a moment, breathing, drinking him in turn, and the fact that you had both left the worst of Termina behind as you do your best to cut down the lingering memories away, a brittle smile comes to your lips as you scan the camp as you squeeze his hand back, "Mhm, same old, sorry. Did I wake anyone up?"

"No, I got to you before you could. You looked troubled and I couldn't have that." he shakes his head, gently he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "You've no need to apologize."

He'd have done the same, has done the same but your positions were reversed, you have the same nightmares after all.

You smile, his devotion as always cutting through the night terrors than any blade or arrow, a welcome bit of reinforcements that you knew would never fail, you gently lift a hand to caress his cheek, just to reassure yourself that he is real, touching your foreheads together, "Thank you."

He closes his eyes, the soft rumble of his voice like the wind over leaves fully taking your worries away as surely as the tides in his eyes took the love you dared not voice aloud each passing day, "Always."

You both take a moment to stay like that, silent as you steady yourselves, still in disbelief you were both still here, before he gently places a hand atop yours, giving it a light squeeze, "Walk with me? I don't believe any of us will be able to get anymore sleep tonight."

Your smile, mischievous glee dyeing it as you kiss his free cheek, echoing his words back at him, "Always. Must you ask?"

He gives you a flat look, and you can't help but laugh. Gently he pulls you to your feet and, just to be a menace that you and Warriors knew he never ceased to be, rather than let you actually walk with him as he requested, he sweeps you from your feet and into a princess carry, making you have to bite down an outraged shriek and cackle as you ineffectively smack one of his shoulders with hissed, half hearted protests lest you both wake the entire camp. Affronted but amused as you catch the glimpse of a smirk, heart warm as you catch the slight shaking of his chest as he silently laughs too.

(If Wolfie sends you both an unimpressed look, having jerked awake from the sudden movement when you both return to camp, taking leaves and twigs from one another's hair from a 'daring' escape you've made that involved almost knocking you and Time both into a river, well, you'll just make it up to Twilight later in the morning and you're sure Time will help with Epona as well.)

It matters not that the pale moon attempted to remind you of the undead's eyes, and of the many horrors you've faced in that long distant journey that still had the tips of their claws in your souls, when you knew he'd keep you safe. And that you'd do your best to protect him now as you did back then.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe time x reader #link x reader #Majora's Mask references #dark linktober #Summer Writes Dark Linktober #This Entry is Brought to You by My Renewed Obsession with OoT/MJM #A lot of coffee that could kill a less spiteful person #And my sleep deprived choice making that is usually Not Good™#definitely self indulgent

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warmshotamilk · 2 months

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My friend thinks Pip is attractive…(VERY NSFW)

So I showed my friend South Park around January and thought nothing of it cause he just called it a "Shock humor show for edgy teenagers". I then showed him Season 1 Episode 10 around mid summer and when he saw Pip he IMMEDIATELY called him hot. Since he was straight, I explained that Pip was male. He hesitated a bit then said “That doesn’t matter, he’s still hot” and after this he kept asking me to send pictures of Pip, not any nsfw form though just regular pictures of Pip. We then went to a sports game about 2 weeks ago. While in the car, he straight up showed me Pip R34 with his big butt cheeks in the open. I almost crashed into the stadium and was like “Dude, what the fuck?”. We later arrived to the sports game, got some drinks and snacks, then sat in our seats. And out of nowhere, he says “I want to cream in Pip's big blossoming booty.” those exact words. I gave him a look of disgust. And right now he just keeps calling Pip his boyfriend and whenever he sees any other South Park character near Pip he’s always like “Back off, that's my boyfriend”… I’m genuinely concerned for him now, what should I do

Only problem with this is that Pip actually belongs to MY friend so :/ (joking)

#asks

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chenfordsrollisi · 2 years

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South of Nowhere Season 1

Note: Let me know the seasons and episode number if links don't work. I'll be adding alt links. Please let me know if they do or don't work as well, thanks. Season 1! Episodes 1&2: Secret Truths [Alt Link: Episodes 1&2: Secret Truths] Episode 3: Friends, Lovers, Brothers and Others [Alt Link: Episode 3: Friends, Lovers, Brothers and Others] Episode 4: Put Out or Get Out [Alt Link: Episode 4: Put Out Or Get Out] Episode 5: First Time [Alt Link: Episode 5: First Time] Episode 6: Girl’s Guide to Dating [Alt Link: Episode 6: Girl's Guide to Dating] Episode 7: Friends with Benefits [Alt Link: Episode 7: Friends with Benefits] Episode 8: Under My Skin [Alt Link: Episode 8: Under My Skin] Episode 9: Shake, Rattle & Roll [Alt Link: Episode 9: Shake, Rattle & Roll] Episode 10: Say It Ain’t So, Spencer [Alt Link: Episode 10: Say It Ain't So, Spencer] Episode 11: What Just Happened? [Alt Link: Episode 11: What Just Happened?]

#South of Nowhere #South of Nowhere Episodes #South of Nowhere Season 1 #Spashley #Ashley Davies #Spencer Carlin

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referrix · 6 months

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Reasons placing the simulator is making me want to cry: 1. No two episodes can seem to agree where it's located.

With other locations, like the dorms, the kitchens and Wizgiz's classroom, the zoom in/fade in tends to have a strong percentage of agreement on where in the school they are generally.

The simulation room though...

The very first time we see the simulation room, we zoom in to the north tower (the one that gets destroyed in the season 1 end battle), subsequent zooms suggest the East tower, 'somewhere' in the north-east building (where the Winx dorm is) and in the west tower, where I've assumed the dining hall is. (or under it at least)

I had actually misremembered the order of events from the Season 1 battle and convinced myself the north tower was destroyed before the Winx were transported to Domino, but upon rewatch, the tower is still standing after the teleport.

The one major internal feature that stops me from wanting to put the sim room in the north tower though, is the windows.

Big curved and a little swoopy. Like a much shorter version of the windows of the rear towers' lower floors. There is nowhere on the front towers that have similar windows, the closest is, as far as I can tell, just a fancy open air walkway around the tower's middle-ish area.

And then there's season 4, which is the first time we really zoom in on the rear/east tower, but also the first time we get to see anyone going from the sim room to somewhere else:

(I have figured out recording! sort of. the splice is just the story of the Black Circle being chopped from the 402 opening)

This sequence cements the idea that at the very least the sim room is definitely in the north-west building, but further, that the sim chamber is on the lower levels of the rear/west tower.

While the group leaves and turns left out the door, the corridor they walk down has very distinct widows on their left:

These windows are closer in appearance to the windows found on the outer sides of the mirrored buildings:

Again we're seeing a case of the internal size doesn't match the exterior, but the scene does have some "internal logical consistency."

So at the moment I'm going to keep working on the assumption that the sim room is actually in the lower floors of the rear tower.

That the window we see from the inside is actually a smaller window separate from the external windows we see, because there is a hallway that runs along the outer wall from the open air hallway door mirroring the external staircase up to a landing (where it exits out the rear facing door,) and around to the other side, down a matching staircase and into the ground floor outer hallway.

over all I'm currently imagining it looking something like this:

Please ignore the fact the red dome indicating the mvr chamber is so far forward in the left half of the picture, I forgot it was sitting directly under the windows and there's only so many times I can redo things from scratch because I wasn't thinking and closed my files losing access to individual layers.

Also, yes, based on external measurements, I'm working on the idea that there are 2 internal hallways on the ground floor and lower mezzanine, separating two series of classrooms.

and the similar testing room without the mvr chamber being in the other rear tower's base, in basically a mirror but with more seating. Partly because that one does zoom/fade in to the other rear/south tower.

#winx club #winx #alfea mapping project #alfea magical reality chamber #magical reality chamber #season 1 reference screenshots #season 2 reference screenshots #alfea interior #alfea reference #alfea external #alfea

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polniaczek · 4 days

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the irony of south of nowhere being about two queer girls falling in love and then the relationship being censored by the network after season 1 for being too gay and them barely being able to kiss on the lips again

#south of nowhere #i don't think they kiss at all in s2

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soldierandawar · 6 months

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I’ve been on my bi!buck high but a reminder to all that there are so many wlw stories out there that are also breaking barriers. Hen and Karen for one. A black lesbian couple that is so often overlooked.

But also wlw media has been in critical condition for years. If it’s got wlw characters in it, odds are one of them will die or the show will get canceled. But they do exist! While I love the story that’s being told with Buck, two white men kissing each other is not that groundbreaking. (Sorry not sorry.)

Anyway, here are some of my favorites that aren’t The L Word.

1. South of Nowhere. This is a deep cut. And also my first rodeo with wlw stories. Teenage angst, coming out, bisexuality! There are also webisodes and the two actresses made a movie, Girltrash. It’s a musical.

2. Also a bit of a deep cut. And it was canceled 😡. Dare Me. I can’t say too much or I’ll give it away.

3. Alex from Supergirl. The show has ended but this was a really good coming out storyline.

4. Go back and watch Glee! Santana was where my awakening started to fully form. And a happy ending for Brittana.

5. First Kill was cancelled 😡. But it featured a black vampire hunter and her vampire gf.

6. Wynona Earp was on for 4 seasons and it’s sci-fi. Worth the watch. Also canceled 😡.

7. Dickinson! A modern take on Emily Dickinson and her writing. Ayo Edibri also makes an appearance. It had a natural ending.

8. If you can stomach the heavy themes in the show, Euphoria. There’s nothing healthy about it but the love story does feature a transperson. The solo Jules episode written by Hunter Schafer is a must see.

9. A League of Their Own. Canceled 😡.

10. The Wilds. Canceled 😡.

Shoutout to Sense8, a show I have yet to finish because of its cancellation 😡. It has queer representation all over it and deserves everything.

#911 on abc #south of nowhere #the wilds #Dickinson #glee #a league of their own #euphoria #first kill #wynonna earp #supergirl #dare me

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moralesmilesanhourlibrary · 11 months

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pass a good time (pt. 1, 2, + 3)

summary: a new girl moves in from louisiana and has her eyes on a special someone. originally posted: oct. 19, 26, 2019 and june 16, 2023 (yikes) a/n: I may re-write this one day but that day is not today <3 as much fun as this was to write at the time i'm not super proud of it but whatever

pt. 1:

Adélaïde moved to Brooklyn from New Orleans about a week ago, and started school at Visions Academy. To be quite honest, she was only impressed with the building for about a day. The polished walls, colorful quotes, and escalators were cute, but it was all for show, anyways. Most of her friends weren’t there to “give the place some seasoning”, as they used to say. Maya was the only friend Addie had at Visions.

The eight classes she had every day were a blur, except one: physics. Addie’s mom was a physicist, and taught her everything she knew. Addie wanted to decipher how the world moved; how time flowed, and how people got pulled around. That’s the best she could describe it. There was one other thing that made physics special, though: the boy that sat in the third row, three seats from the left.

For the life of her, Addie couldn’t catch his name. Teacher spoke it too fast. The boy’s hand confidently shot up every class, loaded up with a smile and a right answer. She wanted to talk with him for hours about the multiverse and relativity so he could flash that little smile at her, just once. But alas, Addie only had that one class with him, and his locker was nowhere near here, that was for sure.

“Girl, go talk to him!”

“How? I don’t even know where he be at!”

Addie was doing her usual monologue on how fine “the boy in my physics class” was, and Maya had had enough. “I have like, most of my classes with him. Name’s Morales, or something like that.” The brown-skinned girl shook her head. “He always be sleepin’ in class, but somehow he got all As. I feel like he cheats.” Addie gasped.

“But that boy seems so nice! Can you talk to him for me, please?” The girl pouted at her friend. “Nope,” Maya stood firm. “You can talk to him yourself”. She glanced behind her, and sure enough, there was Morales. Addie tensed as Maya’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Aye Morales!”

Addie’s eyes widened as the Morales in question approached the table. He practically slid into a seat at the table. Right next to Addie.

Her heart was suddenly in her throat as Maya introduced him.

“My friend thinks you cute”-

“She’s lying,” Addie interrupted. “I’m Adelaide.” Taking a deep breath, she mustered a grin, trying her best to look the boy in his face. “Um, I-I saw how much you knew about, you know, physics and stuff. I’m just tryna talk.” Real smooth. Addie winced internally at her awkwardness.

To her surprise and delight, the boy’s face lit up. “It’s all good, I’m Miles. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Finally. So he’d been waiting…? A little more comfortable now, Addie continued, “I’m kinda new here. From New Orleans, actually.” Miles noted the way she pronounced ‘New Orleans’ like 'Nawlins’ and grinned.

Chuckling, he asked, “So, how you like Brooklyn?” Addie’s cheeks heated up, and she thanked the Lord her gingerbread skin kept Miles from noticing. “It’s real fast out here. Beautiful buildings, but it’s a lil’ noisy, y'know?” Miles nodded thoughtfully. “Alotta people from the South say the city’s too fast. It’s interesting. Maybe time moves different down there. Time is relative.” He winked after making the physics joke, making Addie feel like she wouldn’t be able to get up from her seat after the lunch period ended.

Like clockwork, the bell rang, and students began packing their things to go. Maya grinned at her friend knowingly, having watched the conversation unfold. As Addie zipped up her bag, Miles stopped behind her.

“Hey,” he began, “It was nice talking to you. I never hear you speak in physics.” At a loss for words, Addie could only nod her head. Miles inched a little closer. “I like your accent,” he almost-whispered. Cheekily mimicking the girl’s cadence, Miles called out, “see ya 'round, N'awlins!” as he left.

pt. 2:

Addie had been staring at her phone for five minutes now at the notification.

'Adelaide has an updated grade of a B (89%) in Spanish I'.

Addie sucked in a breath. A 'B'? That was the best she could do? The girl had an A or higher in every other class and that 'B' was really fucking up her vibe. Addie had to do something. There was a quiz in exactly 3 days; that was her chance. She found Maya the next day at breakfast.

"Maya, how you feel about Spanish?"

Flippantly, Addie's friend replied, "I got a C in that class. Not too fond of Spanish." Addie groaned and slumped in her seat. Failed quizzes were no joke. She could barely stomach a B, let alone a C. "I can't fail this class, Maya. Help ya girl out?"

Sighing, Maya thought for a second. A smirk appeared on the girl's face.

"Miles speaks Spani--"

"Now you stop right there!" Addie sharply interrupted. Exasperated, Maya retorted, "What is it with you and avoiding this boy? You want good grades, don't you? That 4.0 GPA?" Addie knew she was right. Why'd she have to be right...?

Still, Addie refused. Instead, the girl opted for flashcards on Quizlet, and they helped. A little. The night before the quiz, it'd slipped Addie's mind to look at Quizlet a second time, though. Big mistake.

Addie sat stiffly at her desk, brows furrowed at the piece of paper in front of her. '¿Que día es ante miércoles?' Addie had all but forgotten the days of the week.

At some point, the teacher announced, "Treinta segundos!" Thirty seconds. Shit. Addie started randomly filling in the answer sheet and hoped for the best. Sooner or later, time was up. She sighed in resignation.

The next day, Addie almost fainted at her updated Spanish grade. Yup, she had a C. For fear of getting an 'I told you so' speech from Maya, Addie said nothing.

"I dunno, I think Mr. Edwards would be more of a scammer," Addie was explaining. "What about Coach Morris?"

"Yeah, he definitely killed somebody." The two girls burst into a fit of laughter at the lunch table. A voice called out from behind, "What's all this about killing people?" Maya and Adelaide looked up to see Miles, having just walked in and approaching a seat next to Maya.

"We was talking about which teachers got a criminal record," Maya answered. "Whatchu think?" Miles thought about it. "I think Ms. Morreira kinda"-- Miles makes a hand motion as if smoking a cigarette--"if you know what I mean?" Maya snickered, but Addie straight up cackled, earning her a few weird glances from passersby, at which she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Real awkward. Thankfully, no one really noticed, and kept the jokes going.

Maya chimed in again, "I really do think she be coming to class high sometimes, though!" Imitating the woman's drawl, Maya and Miles said in unison, "Vien-te se-gun-dos!"

While the other two had their fun, Addie stayed relatively quiet, gaze drifting toward Miles and his boisterous laugh. What if she told a bad joke? Actually speaking was too much of a risk, in her mind.

"Oh yeah, speaking of Spanish," Maya starts, "Did you do good on that quiz?" Miles boasts, "I got a 100. Nothin' new." Addie saw her chance. "Could you help me study? My grades look ugly right now and I was told you speak a lil Spanish." The boy grinned and nodded, to Addie's relief.

Miles reached into his pocket for a pen and scratched out something on a napkin, handing it to Addie. She had to keep her eyes from becoming saucers as she realized the digits hastily written on the napkin were a phone number. His phone number! "Thanks," Addie squeaked, as the bell rang. She'd never entered a new contact into her phone so fast.

pt. 3:

Addy’s thumb hovered over Miles’ contact as she sat in front of her chromebook, bleary-eyed. She’d gotten Miles’ number (or rather, Maya had gotten it for her) after Addy had gotten a ‘C’ on her last Spanish quiz and nearly fainted.

The empty PowerPoint presentation woefully would not complete itself. The assignment should’ve been simple: discuss three dishes from your Spanish-speaking country of choice. She had chosen Puerto Rico, easy, right?

‘Easy’, until it was 11:55 pm, 24 hours before the shit was due. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Adelaide, 11:56pm: hey, sorry to bother you so late! I’m struggling bad w this Spanish assignment and I was wondering if you could help?

Miles, 12am: hey addy

I gotchu right now gimme a second

Addy nearly jumped as a FaceTime call from Miles lit up her screen not moments later, ripping off her bonnet with a speed that could cause whiplash. She sat up in her bed as straight as she could, fumbling for her glasses as she accepted the call.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x oc #category: og fic

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