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so-so-woso · 8 months

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i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

#woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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midwestmade29 · 2 months

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Jealousy 💚

Why is a jealous Jay White so hot? 😂 Thank you @coleskingdom for always sharing your extensive knowledge on King Switch with me and letting me pick your brain all the time 🥰 This story is for everyone that participated in my recent poll and voted for Jay. Enjoy 🖤

Word count: 2.4k Divider by: Me GIF by me 🙂

Disclaimers: Jealousy, cursing, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

When Jay sees you talking to your ex, he lets his jealousy get the best of him…

You, Will and Jay go back a long time. In Japan, Will and Jay often wrestled each other, had corresponding storylines, and even belonged to the same faction for a period of time. Outside of the ring, they were friends until you got thrown into the mix. After being introduced to Will one night, the two of you hit it off immediately and ended up in an official relationship!

Things with the two of you were going well, but Jay sort of became background noise the more time you and Will spent together. He often excused himself from conversations and social events that you guys were at. You enjoyed your friendship with Jay, but you could always tell something bothered him about holding that title.

Unfortunately, everything changed between you and Will when you got the opportunity to move back to the United States. The two of you had several long, difficult conversations about your relationship and if it could withstand that kind of distance. Both of you ultimately decided to end things with the breakup being amicable with nothing but love and respect for each other. Will and Jay stayed behind and went on to have extreme success in NJPW while you found your own in AEW.

-> 2023 <- A couple years later, you and Jay rekindled your friendship, and in no time your friendship blossomed into a full-blown relationship. The two of you were inseparable! When Jay signed his AEW contract, you were with him every step of the way, from the decision making, negotiating, and signing his name on the dotted line. His new deal opened up so many opportunities for him and allowed the two of you to live in the same country after being apart for so long. AEW was lucky to have him on their roster, but you felt like you were the lucky one finally having him by your side.

-> 2024 <- A lot can change in a year, that’s for sure! Never in your wildest dreams did you think your current boyfriend and your ex would end up signed to the same wrestling company again, but here they are. Sure, Will had done things with AEW before, but now he was officially All Elite! The two of you had fallen out of touch over time, chalking it up to having thriving careers, living in different time zones, and simply growing a part. Will had since moved on and found a new love just like you did with Jay. You weren’t worried about seeing him, you were more worried what Jay would say or do to him! His jealous side wasn’t pretty.

You and Will ran into each other one night after Dynamite. You were walking to your locker room and spotted him leaning up against a wall on his phone. As soon as he noticed you too, he put his phone away and smiled! “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest bird this side of the Atlantic,” Will said kindly while opening his arms to you. “How are you love?” Halfway through your conversation with him, you couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes would drift between looking at you and looking past you. When you heard footsteps coming from behind you, you turned around and saw Jay staring daggers at Will. “Well, well, well if it isn’t the Golden Boy himself blessing us all with his presence,” Jay called out sarcastically.

He stood next to you and draped his arm over your shoulder before making it a point to kiss you long and hard. Your cheeks were flushed when he pulled away, mostly from embarrassment but also from the possessiveness of the kiss. Will being Will extended his hand politely to Jay while offering his best “Ello’ mate” only to have the tip of a gold bat placed in his hand. “You’re breathing with the Switchblade now, Golden Boy. AEW belongs to me, this is still my era. I’d watch yourself around these parts if I were you,” Jay’s tone was low and thick with disdain while he waved his bat in Will’s face. “Well, Bruv, while I appreciate your advice, I don’t think I’m the one that needs to have my head on a swivel. You never know when a hidden blade might get ya,” he warned as he took a step towards Jay. “Put that fuckin bat in my face again and I’ll show you who’s era it really is,” Jay become rigid with anger as he stood next to you. He was about to step forward when you placed your hand on his chest, silently begging him not to take things further. When he saw the nervous look on your face, he backed down. “Consider Y/N convincing me to spare you today your official welcoming present. Stay in your lane or next time I won’t be so nice,” Jay threatened. With his arm still draped over your shoulder, he guided the both of you around Will and walked away. You peered back at him and mouthed “sorry,” earning a nod in return.

Tony Kahn had big plans for this week’s Dynamite at Daily’s Place! From start to finish, the show was jammed packed with some of AEW’s biggest stars, including a Casino Gauntlet match that both Jay and Will would be a part of. Your anxiety instantly grew as you listened to Jay telling Austin and Colten about it, the wickedness in his voice completely evident. You stopped him before he went on his way and tried to reason with him, “Please, Jay. Promise me you’ll be on your best behavior when you and Will are in the ring together. Please, for me?” “You drive a hard bargain, love. But what would the others think if I took it easy on ol’ Golden Boy? You’re dating King Switch sweetheart, not King Bitch. While I might not be on my best behavior, I’ll try not to send him to the hospital, deal?” Jay said with a wink. He kissed you on the forehead on his way out of the room, twirling his golden bat and whistling a cheerful tune.

Will’s music blasted through the venue making the crowd go wild at his surprise entrance! He first squared up with Kyle O’Reilly before taking down Penta and Dante Martin. His small celebration was cut short when Jay snuck up behind him, putting him in a headlock and trying to land a Blade Runner on him! Will managed to counter the signature move, stopping Jay in his tracks and forcing him to back away. To the rest of the world, the smile they shared seemed genuine, but you knew better! After giving Will a fist bump, Jay made sure he had the upper hand when he immediately started to gouge his eyes and backed him into a corner. He landed several chops on his chest, Will making sure to return the favor before Jay rolled out of the ring. Around the 14-minute mark, the ref gave the final 3 count signifying Will as the winner! You knew once you were reunited with Jay backstage, you weren’t going to hear the end of how the “Golden Boy” took the W away from him.

It felt like the entire company was attending the party Tony Kahn was throwing at his house! His home was immaculate and so incredibly large. There were decorations all throughout the inside and around the backyard. The open bars located inside the house and by the pool were the main attractions for most while the delicious hors d’oeuvres were a close second. Somewhere down the line you had lost track of Jay and found yourself standing at an empty cocktail table outside all by your lonesome. “Did the Switchblade cut you loose for the night?” Will jested as he sat his drink down. “I’m surprised the bloke left you all alone knowing I was lurking around,” “Ha ha, very funny. He’s mingling around here somewhere, I’m sure. Not really my thing,” you winked. “He doesn’t own me, you know. I’m free to talk to whomever I want,”

It was obvious Will wanted to say something else on the matter, but he let it go and tried to make small talk instead. “So, are all of Tony’s parties like this? Extravagant and crowded? I don’t think the lad spared any cost,” “Definitely! He just wants everyone to enjoy themselves and have a good time. You’d be crazy to turn down an invitation to one of his events,” you chuckled. The conversation with you and Will was light and fun, but he eventually got pulled away to talk with some of the other guests. Almost right on cue, Jay walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you flush against his chest. “Having a good time chatting it up with Golden Boy?” his voice was honey in your ear, even though you knew there was more behind his question than sweetness.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and speaking softly, “I would’ve been having a better time if I was chatting it up with you. Where have you been? I missed you,” “Trying to keep the boys out of trouble. It’s a full-time job as you know. I’m here now love, I’m all yours,” “Good,” you smiled. “Right now, I think I’d like to be anywhere else but out here. It’s too peopely, if you know what I mean,” Jay picked up on what you were suggesting and grabbed your hand. He led you towards the pool house, checking every room once you were inside. When the coast was clear, he crashed his lips against yours, devouring your mouth hungrily and greedily. Your tongues danced together in perfect unison, your breathing becoming more ragged the longer your lips remained connected. His hands roamed freely all over your body, grabbing handfuls of his favorite parts while your own were tangled in his hair. His strong arms picked you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the bar top and sitting you down on it.

You wrapped your legs around Jay’s hips, bringing him as close to you as possible. He had your dress bunched up around your waist, nearly ripping off your panties in his haste to get you bare before him. The groan he let out when he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra was low and throaty, but the moan you let out when he took your nipple in his mouth was anything but quiet. “Usually, I’d tell you to keep it down, but I don’t think I will this time. Let it all out sweet girl, let me hear those beautiful noises you make,” Jay growled against your chest. He was enjoying this way too much.

It took everything in you not to rip his shirt wide open and make the buttons on it go flying everywhere! As you undid every one of them, you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at the thought of Jay walking around the rest of the night with his shirt wide open. You knew no one would even bat an eye at it because he was always putting his goods on display! The man was proud of his abs, and he had every right to be. “Are you going to continue to eye fuck me, or can we move on to the real deal sweetheart?” he jested. “I’d prefer the latter,”

His white linen pants were down around his ankles now, his underwear quickly joining them when you yanked them down in a hurry. “So eager for me, aren’t you sweet girl? I bet you thought about this all night, didn’t you?” The look on Jay’s face as he inched himself inside your wet folds was incredibly sexy, filled with pure lust and need. No matter how many times you are intimate together, it never gets old. The two of you were undeniably and completely love drunk off one another.

Every thrust of Jay’s hips echoed through the room as they slapped against you, each one purposeful and deep. His face was buried in your neck, your arms wrapped around his with your fingers laced in his hair. His firm chest was pressed against yours, barely an inch of room in between them. You could’ve sworn you heard a door open, but Jay encouraged you to brush it off. “Someone probably got lost, don’t worry about it. Eyes on me, love. Don’t look away,” he whispered. You felt the tip of his hard length brush up against your sweet spot, instantly bringing your focus back on your bliss. You tried to stifle your moans and whimpers by biting Jay’s shoulder, but it was no use. You were too far gone, more than ready to topple over the edge and take your man with you. “Jay, I’m so close! So, fucking close!” you cried out. You thought the sudden grin that covered his face was from your declaration, but little did you know the real reason. You had been right about hearing someone moments ago because Will had suddenly walked by the room you and Jay were in! Your back was facing the door, so there was no way to know about the events taking place behind you. The two men locked eyes with each other, but Jay never lost his stride. “Tell them sweet girl, tell them who makes you feel so good. Let the whole party know who is the only one who can make you unravel like this,” he encouraged breathlessly. “Y-you Jay! Only you!” He increased his speed as he gave the middle finger to a mortified Will, making the poor guy run away in a hurry! When he returned his attention to you, Jay picked up on the signs your body was giving him, making sure to capitalize on every cue. “That’s it, love. Cum for me! God you’re so beautiful like this,” And just like that, your entire body began to tremble, every hair standing on end as you fell apart around Jay. The inferno that had been building up inside you had spread like an unruly wildfire through every fiber of your being, burning hot and completely consuming you. Every nerve ending had come alive, firing on all cylinders, making you feel every sensation, every wave of pleasure that much more. Jay’s erratic movements gave himself away, his grunts and whimpers becoming more frequent just moments before he came inside you. He filled you with his hot seed, making a complete mess of you.

Once you and the bar top were cleaned up, the two of you reemerged at the party. Will was nowhere to be found the rest of the night, but who could blame him? Your mind wasn’t focused on the missing Kingpin though. You were more interested in your King Switch and when you could get him alone again.

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ap41cu5 · 3 days

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Joseph Oda x Fem! Reader (Chapter 1)

I am still trying to figure out what to title this so pls bear with me LMAO short summary: the reader just graduated from the academy and is a new trainee at the KCPD where she will be trained by Detective Sebatastian Castellanos and Detective Joseph Oda. upon her arrival, shes immediately drawn to Joseph and very quickly develops feelings. Word count: ~2300

Here you were, 8:00am on the dot with a heart pounding profusely as you stood outside of the Krimson City Police Department. Soon after graduating from the academy, you had been admitted as a trainee under two detectives on the force: Detective Sebastian Castellanos and Detective Joseph Oda. Taking a deep breath in, you finally entered the building with shaking hands and a nagging sense of anxiety which only grew with each passing second.

Approaching the front desk, the sound of your shoes tapping against tile flooring being the only audible sound within the quiet room, you finally spoke:

“Hello, I’m (First & Last Name), the new trainee. I was wondering where I needed to go to begin my training?” You asked the receptionist.

Without even paying you a glance as a few moments passed of her typing at her keyboard, she finally replied:

“Have a seat in the waiting room. Detective Castellanos and Detective Oda will be with you shortly,” she curtly responded.

With a nod, you turned to find an empty seat. With most of the chairs being empty, you quietly sat down next to a table in which a fish tank sat atop. Attempting to calm your nerves by focusing on the multicolored fish swimming about within the confines of the tank, the door leading to the back of the police station swung open.

Looking up, your eyes were first met with a tall man, seemingly around six feet tall and held a slightly scruffy appearance.

“You must be the new rookie. I’m Detective Sebastian Castellanos,” he stated, notably holding a stern, no-nonsense atmosphere.

You swiftly stood up to shake his hand, quickly stating, “It’s a pleasure to meet..” Holy. Shit. Who is that? You thought to yourself, your gaze drifting to the man next to him, not even finishing your sentence. His appearance immediately captivated you. His eyes were a light brown hue, his black rimmed plastic framed glasses almost hiding the beauty of those light colored irises had you not seen him up close. His jet-black hair was neatly fixed and gelled back out of his face. He appeared much more tidy than Detective Castellanos, you noted. His sleeves were folded up, just exposing his forearms and he wore black leather gloves, which was surprisingly attractive. His tie was neatly fastened and pinned to his white button up shirt, paired with a black vest that accentuated his waist.

“Ahem!!” The loud sound of someone clearing their throat quickly broke you out of your trance, and you realized that you had just been blatantly staring at his accompanying Detective, who you presumed to be Detective Joseph Oda.

Your gaze returning to Castellanos as he cleared his throat, you realized that you had even forgotten to let go of his hand mid-handshake. Quickly letting go, you cleared your throat and profusely apologized.

“I–I apologize. I.. I suppose my nerves have just been getting to me. First impressions have always made me very nervous,” you nervously choked out, your face beet red at this point.

While you weren’t exactly lying, you weren’t exactly telling the truth, either. The reason for your nervous pause wasn’t just from nerves, but rather the immediate feeling of blatant infatuation with one of the detectives who was assigned to train you.

“I heard a lot about you! Your files from the academy are impressive. I was surprised to see that you were top of your classes in almost every field,” Joseph chimed in, attempting to change the subject and clear the awkward air.

Immediately, something about him held a very comforting atmosphere. His warm tone of voice sent butterflies into your stomach.

“Oh, wow! I’m flattered. Th-thank you.. very much, umm..”

“Oda! Detective Joseph Oda. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” he replied, holding his gloved hand out for you to shake.

“(First & Last Name). It’s– It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Detective,” you stammered, looking practically everywhere but him. Both his handsome appearance and comforting presence only contributed to your nervosity.

“Since it’s your first day here, Miss (Last Name), we decided we aren’t going to have you do much training-wise. Detective Castellanos and I have agreed that it will be most beneficial if you begin with learning how to sort through the case files first. But, since we would prefer we spend more time helping you with that, we’re going to put you through some basic target practice first to get that out of the way,” Joseph stated. His tone was serious, but gentle at the same time.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, looking down at your hands which were shaking profusely.

Joseph seemed to take note of that right away and almost immediately tried to provide you with words of comfort.

“I completely understand being nervous, especially since it’s your first day. But rest assured, your credentials are pretty much perfect. If you miss a few shots here and there it’s no big deal,” he reassured you, a slight smile gracing his features.

Ironically, his kindness only made you begin to crush on him more, making you more nervous.

“A-alright, thank you. I’ll do my best,” you gulped, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering as you felt your face begin to heat up.

Sebastian subtly shot Joseph a knowing look, a slight smirk on his face and a bit of a glint in his eyes. To which he was met by a glare from Joseph.

Quickly entering the code to unlock the door leading into the precinct, Sebastian motioned for you and Joseph to enter as he closed the door behind the both of you.

“I’ll lead the way. My partner and I have been working here for years now, so if you have any questions, please let us know. How long has it been since we started working here, Joseph?” Sebastian asked, only to be met with silence.

Looking up at Joseph, he seemed lost in thought as they walked.

“Joseph?” Sebastian repeated, but to no avail.

With a huff, Sebastian turned around and lightly grabbed Joseph’s shoulder, shaking him.

Slightly flinching at the unexpected contact, Joseph looked up at Sebastian, a confused expression painting his features.

“Sorry, what is it?” Joseph asked, Sebastian’s nudge bringing him back to reality.

Little to your knowledge, he had been thinking about whether or not you felt it too– that spark when you both first met. Or if you noticed that while you had been staring at him, that he had been staring right back at you– admiring the way your hair framed your face, the way the light hit your eyes, or how endearing he found your nervousness to be. He already had high hopes about working with you upon receiving your files from the academy, but that feeling only amplified upon first meeting you.

“I was wondering if you remembered how long it’s been since we had begun working here at the KCPD,” Sebastian reminded him.

“Well, we both joined in 2006. So about 8 years, I believe,” Joseph approximated.

A few more seconds passed and all of you stood outside the shooting range, Sebastian opening the door and letting both of you in.

Joseph quickly handed to you one of the provided pistols and motioned you over to spot you needed to stand in.

“Remember, it’s alright if you miss a couple of targets. There’s no pressure given your credentials.” You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his compassion. It soothed your nerves knowing that he wasn’t going to judge you very critically. Approaching the fence and aiming at a target, your hands still shook profusely in the presence of both the detectives. You weren’t sure what was more nerve-wracking, this being your first day on the job or being in the presence of a detective you found incredibly attractive.

Getting a bit frustrated that your hands were still shaking, you set the gun down for a moment to crack your knuckles and massage your hands.

Suddenly, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Take your time. Again, there’s no rush.”

The sudden contact inevitably made you blush, but was soothing nonetheless. Taking another deep breath, your hands finally begin to steady. As you aimed for the target and pulled the trigger, the bullet penetrated the center of the target almost exactly.

“Wow! Not bad. I expected no less from one of the academy’s best. Good job Miss (Last Name),” Joseph clapped as he smiled at you.

Joseph’s clapping suddenly got interrupted by Sebastian lightly elbowing him. Confused, Joseph looked back at Sebastian, only to be met with a look that screamed “seriously?” Huffing, Joseph chose to ignore him.

“Well, I think we’ve spent enough time here. We should head back inside. Those case files aren’t going to sort themselves,” Joseph suggested, holding the door open for you.

Sebastian shot you an expression that held a look of curiosity and a tinge of animosity as you both entered back into the precinct.

“Many of the case files can be fairly simplistic. But in some cases, it can get complicated. This is also where your desk will be. After you,” Joseph gestured to the door to the right of him as he held it open for both you and Sebastian to enter.

Muttering a small ‘thanks,’ you turned your head in an attempt to hide the light blush that dusted your cheeks.

Motioning towards an empty desk stationed in the middle of one of the tables, he grabbed a few case files from his own desk to place onto yours.

“Here, have a seat. Your desk is in front of mine,” Joseph said as he stood behind your seat, “go ahead and open up the case file. I’ll help you sort through them,” he added.

You gulped as he stood over your shoulder. The scent of his cologne made your head spin as he placed his hand next to the case file, skimming over the details under his breath. The close proximity had you in a haze and your face grew redder by the second.

“Well, we typically sort these files based on the crime committed as well as their obscurity. As you can see from this case file…” His words seemed to dissipate into the background as you could feel him steady himself with his opposite hand by placing it onto the back of your chair. The purr in his voice sounded more prominent due to the close proximity- and you could feel his face just by your ear. His breath smelled of mint with a hint of coffee. His forearm had a few veins running down them, sparking your curiosity as to whether his hands were as veiny as his arms underneath his leather gloves.

“Did you get all of that?”

Shit.

First day on the job, and you weren’t paying attention. Great job.

“U-uh.. yeah!” You replied, your voice sounding unconvincing.

“So they’re just sorted by the type of crime committed as well as their.. obscurity. Right. Gotcha,” you mentioned, as that was the only part of what he said that you heard.

“And we must also take into account any potential mental disorders, the number of suspects, and age. Is there anything else you need me to repeat?” He asked, a slight look of concern plastered on his face as he stood up straight again.

“Uh– no, no I understand. Very straight-forward process, like you said,” you stammered, wildly embarrassed that spaced out during your training.

But it should be fine, right? It’s just sorting through case files. But at the same time, if they needed most of the day in order to teach you how to sort them properly, then you may have missed several crucial details. But you could always ask him right? He wouldn’t get annoyed.. right?

He seemed to give you a certain expression which seemed to consist of a mix of “I don’t believe you,” and “why is she acting like this?” But in a sort of concerned, friendly type of way.

“Well, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me or Sebastian. I believe we’re getting a call at the moment, so if you’ll excuse me for just a bit,” Joseph said as he left the room, pulling out his walkie-talkie in the process.

You let out a sigh as you watched him leave– the sort of sigh that emerges from one’s throat after experiencing an almost overwhelming amount of butterflies.

“You obviously don’t like him,” a feminine voice from a corner of the room sarcastically remarked.

You froze. Who the hell was that?

Turning in your seat sat a woman in a nearby desk with her arms folded. She bore shoulder-length chestnut hair and wore a white dress shirt with the top few buttons left open. She held a slightly cocky expression but still was nothing short of beautiful. Her gaze seemed to pierce through you.

How did you not notice her? Were you that focused on Joseph to have not even noticed her presence? “I-I’m sorry, who are you?” You asked, your head spinning and slightly panicked that she already caught on to your apparently obvious feelings towards the Detective.

“Kidman. I’m a trainee just as you are,” she replied, her answer notably short and straight to the point.

“I– uh.. I didn’t see you there. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, I suppose. My name is (First & Last Name). Pleasure to meet you,” you extended your hand out for her to shake, only for her to ignore it entirely, hardly even paying it a glance.

Retracting your hand back, you felt a sharp twinge of annoyance shoot through you.

The door quickly creaked back open, Sebastian emerging from behind.

“Junior Detectives (Last Name) and Kidman, in the car. We just received an urgent dispatch,” Sebastian announced, holding the door open for the both of you. "I know we said we were just going to have you in the office for today, (Last Name), but we believe we'll need the extra set of hands and eyes. We trust in your capabilities, (Last Name)."

And this marks the end of Chapter 1! i really hope this wasn't cheesy or anything AHH this was super long and I really was not expecting to write this much but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this! I don’t know when ill post chapter 2 but ill do my best! im currently working on it right now and i hope to get it published soon :))

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 2:

#joseph oda #tew #tew2 #joseph oda x reader #tew x reader #the evil within #the evil within 2

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niuniente · 2 months

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Catching up on tumblr and read your post about Sergei Dragunov's message of survival! May I ask what other characters from any fandoms are also acting as messengers for you?

There are so, so many from the past almost 20 years when I started to do this and connect the dots! Some of the characters are still questions marks with their messages but it's part of the fun to patiently figure them out - and, if there's none, then there's none and that's okay.

I'm going to introduce a few ones only so this list won't get too long.

Dante (Devil May Cry) Dante represents a time of transition, when the old isn't here anymore but the new hasn't arrived yet either. This is because he himself is a half-devil, half-human and thus doesn't really belong to either side. This transition is pretty much always something which takes me from old to new in a way that there's no returning back to the old. It's always a positive transition. For example, I started to see him around a lot before a surgery I didn't know I needed but which improved my life's quality afterwards. And, also, 5 months before I knew I was going to apply for a school and get accepted in.

Vergil (Devil May Cry) Vergil is a sort of a newcomer who very rarely appears. His message is a total transformation where the old completely dies and a new phase begins. Like the Phoenix. Where his brother Dante predicts a transformation in some field, Vergil predicts full scale transformation, which is inevitable. Multiple things will change at the same time but this purging is necessary and beneficial.

Hwoarang (Tekken) Hwoarang was a very close "guide" when I was younger. His message is that keep your eyes on the price/goal but don't force it as higher forces are at play, too. Stay humble to know when to step back but don't let the inner fire for your goal and ambitions disappear. The moment of pause is only a moment of pause. This is because Hwoarang goes after whatever the hell he wants, even breaking rules and law, but bring in his master Baek (the higher force) and he immediately knows his place.

Reno (Final Fantasy VII) Reno used to be around a lot more when I was in my twenties, worried about my career and work life. He sometimes appears to kick my ass but I'm happy I need his services a lot less now lol. This is because Reno's message is confidence as you are in a work environment. And ONLY in the work environment! Doesn't matter how you look like, doesn't matter how you are. Just be yourself. You will succeed and find the people who appreciate what you have got to give to your work field. This is Reno's message because despite his attitude, looks and the way he "violates" the workplace dress code, he is still 2nd in command right after his boss.

Daiki Aomine (Kuroko no Basket) Aomine is bold, 100% confidence with no hesitation, because the only one who can beat Aomine is Aomine himself - according to him. So, why do you stand on your own way, trip your on feet and give up? No one can beat you but you - go for it! Know your worth and give credit to your talents.

Grimmjow (Bleach) Grimmjow is titled as The King in Bleach so he represents ultimate rule over your own life and your own actions. You do you and don't give a shit what others want from you or what they think about you. His message isn't aimed to anything particular but it's more of a call to embody that self-sufficient regal energy, where anyone who crosses your path and says "No you can't" is nothing but a whining bastard. His the "Take No Shit" part from the motto Do No Harm, Take No Shit.

Sergei Dargunov (Tekken) Adding Dragunov here, too, if someone missed the original post. Dragunov represents (and predicts) ultimate survival in an extreme environment where my future - from a logical point of view - is heavily threatened. Like, to that degree that IF things don't work out (soon!), I will not survive. Keep your calm, keep your emotions in check as there's no need to panic, even if the world around you was on fire. The fire will not catch you. This is because when I think about Dragunov, I feel that he will survive anything. Drop an atom bomb over him and he probably just walks away from it with some dust on him, unharmed. Then, he goes to mind his own business and assemble his pink toy tanks. I think that such a notion is a small extra; have some sense of humor, even when the world burns. There are still nice things out there to enjoy of right now.

I'm currently trying to figure out Jessica Rabbit and Fran from FFXII, who has been my faves for a really long time. Most of the guides are men because I'm naturally more comfortable and at ease in masculine energy (a psychic once noted that my energy is, at the moment, more aligned with the divine masculine - one of my current lessons is to turn that to the divine feminine, which is extremely strong on my astrological chart. I just haven't been able to tap into it yet but I'm getting there!)

#ask niu #spiritual

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angelst4re · 1 year

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Hii! Okay, so I was thinking since Valentines Day is coming up it would be super cute if you could write a spicyy smut with Jamie and Y/n. Where she surprises him after he comes home from a long day at work :) 🖤

ahh happy valentine's day my loves!! i wanted to post a few spicy things tonight for the occasion, but when i got around to writing the fics something else possessed me and i don't feel happy with how they turned out... but i hope you enjoy!

Fuck it I love you- Jamie Campbell Bower x Reader

summary: in the request! :)

warnings: NSFW!! contains smut!! if that makes you uncomfortable then please don't read, my love <3

notes: i couldn't think of a title so yes. that's a lana reference. ALSO thoughts on the new layout?? i thought i should change it up again and i think this is kinda cute :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a long day at work, you wanted to surprise Jamie when he returned home. Not only was it valentine’s day, but it was also your three year anniversary, so you wanted to make tonight extra special.

You had spent all day setting the bedroom up, some scented candles were dotted around the room, and you decided to be extra cliche and get some rose petals to scatter on the bed. You also bought him a couple gifts, but you knew to save them for later, because you knew that as soon as he got home and saw you in a new matching lingerie set there would only be one thing on his mind.

When you went out to buy the new set for tonight, you knew exactly what you were looking for, and as soon as you spotted the black and red bra and panty set you had to buy it. You hadn’t spoiled yourself to new lingerie in a while, but you knew that not only would you enjoy the set, Jamie was sure to fall speechless as soon as he saw it. But until then, it was covered up by your black satin robe.

When you heard his car pull up outside, your belly was flooded with butterflies. It was like your first date all over again.

“Happy anniversary, my love!” Jamie called out as he shut the front door behind him.

“And happy valentine’s day.” You added, smiling as you walked towards him, arms open to give him a tight hug.

He hugged you back, squeezing you as he lifted you from the ground, leaving you giggling and telling him to put you back down. That was when you spotted the red gift bags he had placed on the floor- but once again, they will be saved for later.

“Are you wearing anything under that, sweetheart?” Jamie chuckled, even blushing a little at the way most of your chest was exposed.

“Yes, of course,” you said,smiling innocently. “Would you like to see it?”

Jamie couldn’t help but grin as he nodded his head.

“Would you like to take it off for me?” You teased, looking up at him with seductive eyes.

“It would be my pleasure.” He said, his hands coming up to untie your robe.

He quickly noticed you had a new lingerie set on, and he gave you a look that you were so familiar with. He pushed the robe off your shoulders and it soon fell to the floor, leaving you in just the underwear.

“You’re so beautiful, you know.” He said, his eyes unable to leave your body.

“Maybe we should go upstairs, hm?” You suggested, a wicked smile creeping onto your face.

“After you, darling.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Fuck! Oh my- Jamie, please, don’t stop!” You whimpered, your fingers tangling into his hair as his face was buried between your thighs, your panties pushed to the side as he ate you out.

His fingers plunged in and out of you as his tongue danced circles around your clit, sending nothing but white hot pleasure through your veins. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were screwed shut, the only words that left your mouth were profanities and your boyfriend's name.

“You gonna cum for me again, hm? I can do this all night, baby.” He said, his head resting against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, he could feel himself grow harder in his trousers and it only became more painful as you looked down into his eyes. Your pupils were so blown out with lust, and tears that had escaped your eyes had caused your makeup to run. You were such a mess, and he loved to see you like that knowing it was him that made you feel that way. “Answer me.”

“Yes, please, I’m so close, I- Ohh fuck!” You thrashed around on the mattress, your back arching as you felt yourself get closer to the edge, so close to your high you could practically taste it.

“That’s it darling,” he cooed, he moved his free hand so his thumb could rub harsh circles onto your clit, “once more on my fingers then I’ll give you my cock, okay?”

As your third orgasm washed over you, you bit down on to your lip so hard you could taste copper, you dug your nails into Jamie’s shoulders, leaving crescent shapes on his skin, your legs trembled and shook around him, and you were a panting, babbling mess.

“That’s it,” he praised, beginning to take off what remained of his clothes, “you did so well for me, my clever angel.”

As your back laid flat against the mattress, no longer arched in the air as you came down from your high, he slipped his hands underneath you and flipped the two of you over. He half-laid half-sat on the bed, against the headboard, with you on his lap, lying against his chest. He looked down at you, so blissed out by all the pleasure he had given you, all without even fucking you yet.

“Darling, are you tired?” He asked gently, wiping away the makeup that had ran down your face, although it just seemed to have smudged it more, “we can stop now if you’d like? I’ll clean you up and-”

“No. I can take it.” You protested, pushing yourself up from his chest so you could see his face, “fuck me.”

After you said that, he didn’t question you further. He reached between your bodies and took his cock in his hand, lining it up with you and beginning to fill you up. You winced at the overstimulation as you felt him stretching you open, but once he was buried inside you, you let out a breathy moan and collapsed back onto his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding your warm body against his as he began to move his hips, you could’ve swore he was going deeper with each thrust.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your forehead, and you began moving your hips with him.

“Fuck- I love you too.” You gasped, still feeling very sensitive.

“C’mon darling, you said you could take my cock.” He teased. Although you couldn’t see it, you definitely knew he had a smirk plastered on his face.

“I can!” You cried, trying to prove a point. You pushed back from him once more and began bouncing on his length at your own pace, although it was getting slower and slower as the exhaustion took over your body.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pouted, pulling you back to him so you were lying on his chest, “let me take over, okay?”

After a nod of your head, he began to pound into you relentlessly. You gasped as your walls clenched around him, the sensitivity was being replaced by pleasure once more, and as your core began to pulse you felt his cock twitch inside you.

“Is this okay, darling?” He asked, his hands coming down to your hips where he traced circles on your skin with his thumb, as if to soothe you.

“Yes.” You panted, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I can feel you, y’know. I know you’re getting close again, love. Just hold on a little longer.”

You nodded your head again, a little slower this time as all your attention was drawn to the way he was fucking you. The pace was so rough and unforgiving, but the way he held you was so intimate and loving.

Your brain began to cloud over again as the knot in your stomach was ready to snap at any second, you just needed the…

“Now.” He instructed you, “cum for me, all over my cock, sweetheart. I’m getting close, cum for me and I’ll fill you up, nice and full with my- Mmm fuck!” He groaned as your cunt pulsed around him, your fourth orgasm washing over you, and it was all he needed to come undone too.

He held you closer to him, digging his fingers into your soft flesh as he spilled inside of you, coating your walls with the warm seed.

His body relaxed, his head thrown back as he caught his breath. You looked up at him and saw his hair had fallen over his eyes, slightly damp and sticking to his forehead.

Neither of you said a word,and you didn’t need to. You just held each other in your arms, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms, still not feeling like you were completely back to reality.

“I’ve got you some gifts, by the way.” Jamie finally spoke, breaking the silence. “But we can save them for tomorrow if you just want to go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“But I’ve got you some gifts too,” you say with a lazy smile as you rolled off your boyfriend's chest and onto the bed beside him, “give me five minutes.” You said before your eyes fell shut, and you soon drifted into sleep.

Jamie chuckled, taking in your beauty as you slept- even with your mascara stained cheeks and messy hair you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He went into the bathroom and grabbed a cloth before returning to clean up the mess between your thighs. He didn’t dress you, for the fear of waking you up, so he just pulled the covers over you and left you to sleep, before returning with a glass of water and joining you on the bed, falling asleep by your side.

#jamie campbell bower smut #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie bower #jamie bower smut #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower #jamie #jcb

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part VI.

GIF: Originally posted by @maeroria

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hello there, hope you are all doing well. Warning: this chapter is about to get dark. A lot of the scenarios described are recreations of some of my worst recurring nightmares, or inspired by them.

Sandman Masterlist

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

The nightmare begins with a passive tableau.

The image of a supermarket sprawls before you.

The aisles are so tall that their tops are impossible to see. They are stacked with bland cardboard containers. No labels are present give a clue to their contents. Trolleys are dotted around, stacked with the beige and brown cuboids.

The scene starts to move as people mill around beside you.

As always in nightmares of this ilk, the people do not have faces. They just exist, like props and furniture on a stage.

The cheery bing-bong of the tannoy sounds.

Your name is called in a sinister tone.

You freeze in place.

"After all this time, I can’t believe this is finally happening. I cannot wait to meet you. We’re going to have so much fun together, you and I.”

You are suddenly running.

Skipping through the crowd with the precision of a ballroom dancer. Avoiding inanimate obstacles like a boxer dodging red gloved swings.

After a few directional changes, you realise that the aisles lead into each other and create a maze-like series of paths. Yet your dream avatar seems to know where it is that you need to go.

You round a corner; the entrance looms no further than 100 metres from you.

A group of intimidating looking people guard the exit.

You manage to retreat without being noticed. There’s a gap in the shelving that is big enough to conceal yourself in while you desperately try to formulate a plan. You swing yourself under the metal shelf.

The tannoy tune sounds again.

“Oh dear, Y/N. Did you really think that would actually work? I see everything.”

You chance a peek out of your hiding place. The red light of a security camera glares at you. This place is completely covered with surveillance. There is no amount of running or hiding that would help you here.

All you know is that you must avoid capture at all costs.

It takes all of five seconds for you to make a decision. You need to get out the building.

You’re climbing the shelves like a ladder.

When you reach the top, you back up as far as you can go and sink into a crouch.

You start to run again, propelling yourself with everything you have and just before you reach the edge, you spread your arms out wide.

Your superpowers kick in and you are flying.

Air hits your face as you sharply aim towards the space just above the heads of the guards.

You swoop straight over them, retract your arms and land with a perfectly timed forward roll.

A few more running steps and you are throwing yourself through the gaping hole that is the exit.

The familiar hallway of your house fills your vision field.

You sigh in relief. You are safe.

The roar of an engine startles you.

Through the peephole in the wooden door, you see a red car. A man sits behind the wheel. He is looking right at your porch.

He gets out the vehicle. He is holding a large knife in his right hand. It sparkles in the blazing sunlight.

“Shit!” You curse quietly, going to ensure that the lock is engaged.

As soon as you touch the handle, the door unexpectedly moves outwards a couple of centimetres.

You pull it back and try to shut it once more. The same thing happens again.

You are confused.

The door is slipping past the frame that should secure it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get a purchase.

The person has reached the top of the path that leads to your front door.

Bewilderment gives way to fear. You try again and again and again.

He’s on your doormat.

You resort to holding the door still, hoping that the frame will come back into existence.

A well placed kick sends you cowering.

He's in the house. The knife is held aloft.

You know he means to kill you.

You flee, taking the steps of your wooden staircase two at a time.

Then, you’re in your bedroom. The man isn't far behind you.

An open window beckons to you.

You’re clambering up onto the little ledge, looking down at the grass and bushes below.

The man is a footstep away from you.

There’s no choice but to jump and so you do.

You fall.

An icy cold embrace of water consumes you.

It submerges you entirely. Instinctively, you lunge for the surface.

You’re thrashing, panicking, drowning.

Oxygen somehow fills your lungs.

You’re on a pebble covered shore.

You push yourself onto your hands and knees. The rocks dig painfully into your flesh.

A pair of familiar brown leather shoes come into view.

Anxiety pools in your gut.

You know exactly who is standing in front of you.

With much hesitancy, you sit up on your haunches and look up into the pained face of your ex.

Tears glisten in their brown eyes, just like they had on the day they had moved out.

After you made them move out.

“What did I do to make you want to hurt me, Y/N?”

“Nothing. You did nothing... I never wanted to hurt you.”

Rage flares their nostrils and narrows their eyes.

“Then why did you do it!?”

The words, combined with their towering presence are terrifying.

You’re stuttering, unable to reply.

You can’t help but notice how the semantics of the conversation is directly mirrored by your physical stances.

You are supposed to feel diminutive.

They speak again.

“There’s something wrong with you. Everyone warned me and I never listened. But I see you for what you really are now, you’re a fucking plague.”

As soon as they finish the sentence, you detect an instantaneous change in the environment around you.

The sky and lake turn a gunmetal grey. Not from a sudden appearance of clouds but because the colour literally drains from it. You watch it happen with disturbed eyes. It leaches from top to bottom, like a keg being emptied of alcohol.

You look back to your ex. Greyscale is taking over every part of their being.

Your hands claw into the ground in fear.

Before you know it, the colours are leaking away out of your sodden clothes. Out of you.

That’s when the tremors start.

You scrabble to your feet.

As you reach your full height, there is a surge of power that threatens to knock you backwards onto your posterior.

You somehow manage to remain on two feet, feeling every inch of the rumbling earth through your thin-soled shoes.

The edges of your vision field wobble with claustrophobic darkness. It encroaches rapidly and soon all you can see is the face of the person whose heart you so callously destroyed.

At this point, it is near impossible to keep your balance.

The darkness pushes in further; you feel like you are being stuffed into a box that is ten sizes too small.

You want to fight back, scream, resist.

Something.

Anything.

The words of their next taunt are like a bucket of ice cubes poured down your collar.

“I hope you burn in hell.”

You come to with a jolt.

You’re curled in on yourself defensively. Sweat and tears have moistened much of your skin.

You roll onto your back and open your eyes.

Someone is standing over you.

You don’t need to turn on the light to know who it is.

It’s your ex.

“W-what are you doing, how did you get in here?” You ask fearfully.

“I said I wanted you to burn in hell. I’ve decided I’m going to send you there myself.”

You begin to scream as their hands reach for your neck.

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

"Am I mistaken, or are we breaking under weight from the long time that he played God?"

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 2 years

Text

(he love me) he give me all this money I Part 1 [18+]

Series Masterlist

summary: A brief interaction with a catfish on a sugar daddy website leads to something quite unexpected and suddenly you're on the radar of genius tech billionaire Nathan Bateman, and honestly, you don't mind the attention.

chapter warnings: just a whole bunch of swearing honestly, catfishing (?), mentions of substance use (alcohol)

a/n: okay so, i've been listening to qveen herby's sugar daddy A LOT lately and if u couldn't tell from the title, that song basically inspired this fic. i really hope y'all like it 'cause honestly idek what this is, i just pumped out 2k words while running on zero sleep , so.. let me know what u think

also just a note about the texts in this fic

> Texts like these are from Nathan. [bold and italicized]

> texts like these are from you [italicized]

Here's the thing about getting (responsibly) piss drunk with a group of friends who are all enablers and won't ever discourage you from doing stupid things on a whim, as much as it sounds like an epically bad idea, sometimes (read: very rarely) it yields positive results.

Like that one time, fueled by copious amounts of liquid courage and the encouragement of your drunk friends, drunk you had sent that presentation you'd drafted to your then crush (who might have also been an coworker at the time), basically to try and convince him that you would be a good partner, and you'd ended up getting a really adorable email back saying that he was also interested and definitely would love to go on a date sometime.

That relationship had lasted a solid 6 months (which was really great considering your track record), and it had been good run, ended amicably even. You and your now ex co-worker were still on good terms, so yeah, all in all, a positive experience.

Then there was that one time you and your friends had gotten drunk and, for some goddamn reason, had gathered all the unsolicited dick pics you'd received over the years (because again, for some goddamn reason, you still had them in your DMs) and filmed your reactions to each and every dick pic (without revealing the senders, of course), commenting on the quality of the images (lighting, angles, etc.) while also rating each dick. Sober you had then used that footage, edited it to perfection, included digital renderings of said dick pics to add to the video (because as NSFW as your channel could get, you didn't need to put actual dicks in your videos) and uploaded it to your channel.

Currently, it was your most popular video, and the one that had quite literally made you famous overnight. A bunch of commentary and reaction channels were suddenly talking about you, and you'd even gotten messages from a lot of creators you looked up to, commending you on your hilarious content and hoping to see more.

Okay so, it really was just those two instances where you'd gotten something good out of heavily drinking.

That would change soon, though, because your next drunken adventure with your friends would change your life in ways you would have never imagined (in the best way possible).

---

"I can't believe I let you assholes talk me into this-" you groan as you scroll through the dozens of messages you'd received over the past few hours on your freshly created dating profile.

"Hey, this was your idea babe, we were just being loving and supportive-"

"By encouraging me to sign up on secret benefits dot com?" you ask, glaring at your friend over the rim of your coffee mug.

For context, you'd just woken up with a killer headache (as you do every weekend, because you and your friends have zero control and always, always get drunk off your asses on the weekend) to your phone absolutely blowing up on your nightstand from notification after notification, alerting you of a new 'Daddy' that wanted to get to know you better.

Apparently drunk you had thought it would be a real fun idea to sign up to become a sugar baby, and your equally drunk friends had agreed (because of course they did).

You had begrudgingly opened some of the messages that you'd received, and most of them were pretty tame, surprisingly.

"Yeah, I'm deleting this," you mumble, clicking through the page to find the deactivation option, not before taking a few minutes to admire your own profile (drunk you had a made successful attempt at creating an enticing profile for a sugar baby, it seems).

Once you get your fill of your own pictures, you head to the deactivation page, only to be greeted with a little pop up message that says-

"Oh, what the fuck, I have to keep my profile up for a whole week?" you yell.

Your friends all groan out some variation of "keep your fucking voice down" from various parts of your bedroom, and you turn to the one friend who somehow wasn't hungover at all despite how much you all had to drink the night before.

"It says I can only delete my profile after 7 days," you say, holding up your phone so your friend could see.

"Can't you just delete the app off of your phone?"

"I could...but ugh, I don't just want my pictures up on some app like this- I need to delete my account."

"So just wait out the 7 day period, maybe chat it up with some rich men and see if they'll give you their money, I don't know," your friend shrugs, before turning back to their phone.

Huh.

"Yeah, fuck it," you mumble, going back to scrolling through the messages on SecretBenefits, looking at the profiles of all the older men you'd matched with.

Maybe this would make a fun video...

---

It takes you an hour to set everything up, but eventually you're ready to film what's sure to be your next best video "Trying to Find a Sugar Daddy (Not Clickbait)".

"Hello everyone, I hope you're all having a great day," you say, waving at the camera. "Welcome back to my channel, this of course is another episode of Girls Just Wanna Have Funds, Specifically This Girl, This Girl Needs Money and She Needs It Now."

You laugh at your own stupid intro, before continuing. "So, the other day, my friends and I got together for drinks, and yeah I'm sure you can guess where this is going, we got drunk, and I ended up creating a profile on SecretBenefits, and I'm stuck with it for the next 7 days, so here we are," you chuckle as you hold up your phone, checking to see if the screen recording was still working.

"I'm not really trying to find a sugar daddy, this is purely for entertainment," you say before leaning close and whispering, "but if some rich zaddy wants to send me some money I wouldn't be opposed, ya know? Alright, so drunk me apparently already swiped on a bunch of potential sugar daddies, but I think we can do better so I'm going to try and get more matches. Obviously we're going to censor everyone's faces just in case anyone's actual father is on this app and you're watching, like, I really don't want to be involved in any family drama like that."

You set out to swipe on interesting looking profiles, commenting on just how big of a range of potential daddies this app had to offer.

"Okay, so that's not just an older man, that's literally a grandad, nope- wait, this guy included a picture of himself at his own wedding, oh my fucking god- 'looking for something discreet' he says- my guy maybe don't post your wedding pictures for anyone to find? Like I could easily track down this man's wife and snitch on him. Wait should I do that?" you ask, looking at the camera. "Comment down below if I should snitch on Matthew, 52."

You continue swiping through more profiles, occasionally snorting at the few messages that popped up from different matches.

"Okay, Dave wants to know if we've been on any other sites looking for an SD... SD? Sugar daddy? They have codes now?" you laugh incredulously. "I'm going to say...'no I haven't'."

Just as you're about to call it a day on swiping and focus on the matches you'd gotten so far, your eyes zero in on the next profile that shows up, and-

"There is no fucking way Nathan Bateman is on this app, this has to be a catfish situation right? Right?"

You look up at the camera. "I'm going to swipe right. It's probably, most definitely, not him, but if it is..." you trail off, looking off to the side with your eyebrows raised high.

It's a match!

Funnily enough, you'd actually made a video on Nathan Bateman, CEO and Founder of BlueBook. The video itself had been a Top 10 style video, where you'd rated various billionaires based on their looks and wealth, while also ranking them based on how willing you'd be to ignore their massive ego and wealth to be able to fuck them. Other notable figures on the list had been Tony Stark, Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor (who'd ranked dead last) to name a few.

You phone pings with a new message from 'Nathan Bateman'.

NB: Hey.

hii :) quick question are you really the Nathan Bateman ??

NB: Yes, I am.

NB: Any matches?

"Imposter Bateman is asking me if I've got any other matches." You wink at the camera with a cheeky smile before typing out-

nope, just you :))

NB: I'll send u money if u send me a picture. Topless.

"Oh wow, he's getting right into it," you scoff at the camera. "No seriously, how stupid does this person think people are, because this sure as hell isn't Bateman 'cause the only pictures he has are like ones you could find online, like they're all paparazzi shots from before he moved to his private island or wherever the hell he fucked off to, and the few selfies I see here look edited so..."

You tap your chin a couple of times, before snapping your fingers

"I'm actually looking to be a sugar baby, without the sugar," you say out loud as you type out your response to Imposter Bateman, before tapping on another message thread.

"James just texted 'you look delicious', bye- okay, he looks kinda cute though, hm."

Just as you're about to type a reply, you get a notification from Imposter Bateman, and it has you gasping.

"Oh- oh my god, he just- I just got absolutely lambasted."

Imposter Bateman had replied to your earlier message about wanting to be a sugar baby without the sugar by saying-

NB: You just want my money

NB: You're not even that hot

You're still wheezing from laughing so hard when you look at your phone again to see that Imposter Bateman had deleted the conversation and blocked you.

"You guys see this?" you ask, holding your phone to the camera, even though you know you're going to be including the screen recording in post.

"Nathan Bateman, I don't know if you'll ever see this but, ouch dude. That was so harsh, you just told me I'm not hot," you pout at the camera, faking incredible sadness before laughing out loud again.

"Also, 'you just want my money'? Uh, yeah, that's what every sugar baby is here for, the app is literally called secret benefits? The benefit for me being money?" you say, shaking your head.

You go through more messages from other sugar daddies (15 to be exact), reading out their texts and formulating responses while talking to your camera, making sure to include as many funny quips you can think of before filming your outro.

"Alright guys, that's it for this video. I hope y'all have a great day and Daddy Bateman if you're watching, make up for my heartbreak by sending me eighteen hundred dollars?" you plead at the camera. "Please?"

---

The seven day wait period goes by pretty quickly, and once you deactivate your SecretBenefits account, you upload your final edited video, which had been sitting unpublished on your account for the past five days. It was short, only 10 minutes long, and it hadn't taken you a lot of time to edit, but you'd decided to post it after you'd taken down the account because the last thing you needed was for your fans to sign up for the app and try and find your profile.

The response to your video was amazing, but you expected nothing less from your loyal subscribers.

What you didn't expect though, was for them to take to Twitter and flood Bateman's mentions, asking him how he could possibly think you weren't hot. They even managed to get the hashtags #imposterbateman and #daddybateman on the trending page for a day.

And you certainly didn't expect to hear from the man himself, because the very next day, you get an Instagram notification saying @thenathanbateman_official is following you, followed by a text notification that read-

> Send me your IBAN

You blink at your phone for a few seconds before typing up a reply.

> ??

> well hello to you too mr. bateman

> Yeah hi, I need your IBAN

> can't you just hack into my shit and find out?

> why're u asking

> I can, but I thought I'd be polite and ask first.

Just as you're about to reply, you get a notification from your mobile banking app, which almost makes you chuck your phone at the wall.

You've received $1800.00 from Nathan Bateman

What the fuck?

> u watched my video???

> Videos. Saw the one where you ranked me too.

> no way- fr ?? 😭

> Fr.

> wow ummmm i hope u liked them ?? idk what to say

> Your videos are pretty funny . Liked the dick pic one.

> everyone likes that one yea

A few moments pass, and you think maybe that will be the end of that. You move to put your phone back down, but it pings with a new notification.

> Imposter Bateman was fucking blind.

> You're really hot.

welp, lemme know what y'all think-

#m writes #(he love me) he give me all his money #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman au fic #nathan bateman fic

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bramblemantle · 1 year

Text

question meme thing, tagged by @nosongunsung11 ( o/ !!)

tagging: uhhhhhh let’s say @lupathemoth and @a-little-monotonous ! as well as anyone else who’d like to use this format

share your wallpaper: it used to be ace attorney for a really long time, now it’s blaseball. i don’t tend to change visuals often

lock screen is this artwork of Parker by @ HORSEIZONTAL on twitter

home screen is this Jaylen artwork by @ 0re

my laptop lock screen is that title screen artwork of Revachol from Disco Elysium, home screen is this, don’t know what the original source is but it’s on a lot of wallpaper sites. miiiight be wallpaperstock dot net ?

last song you listened to?: i’m listening to music all of the time but as i’m writing this i’m listening to Hail To Whatever You Found In The Sunlight That Surrounds You by Rilo Kiley. in general i’ve been listening to a lot of the Garages and Paramore. so i’m also linking Ignorance bc i keep getting it stuck in my head

currently reading?: i’m rereading the Animorphs series for the first time in years! this is actually the first time i’ve read the series in its entirety, as my personal collection grows sparse after book 30 so there’s some i’ve never read. i’m currently on book 36 out of 54! (plus the extras in there whenever they fit chronologically)

last movie you watched?: uhh i don’t watch a lot of movies. technically Sing i think? i was playing totk and sitting with my 7 y/o brother. he wanted to watch Sing but he got distracted before the end of the movie and turned it off. if we’re talking about movies i watched for me then there’s a good chance it was the new Puss in Boots movie or Into the Spider-Verse but it’s been like a couple months

craving: toasted bagel. butter on it. the good stuff. the creamy kind of butter. tim hortons does it right. also i could go for some dark chocolate

what are you wearing right now?: uhhhh some kinda kapris (?) with grey flower and triangle patterns, and a muscle shirt (?) i was just gifted with pride flags on it. it’s hot as balls. if it weren’t hot as balls i’d have on one of my fave tees, and my Houston Spies bomber jacket or one of my beloved long coats

how tall are you?: 5’2” and a half, which i only found out last year when i finally asked at a visit with doctors

piercings?: nah i’m too much of a baby abt the pain and don’t want to deal with maintenance, but they look cool as hell on anyone

tattoos?: same as above but i’m more likely to be tempted into getting something small someday

glasses? contacts?: i’ve been wearing glasses since elementary school, they’re an all day necessity for me. i gotta get new ones, i’ve had these lenses for years and the frames for even longer whoops. the prescription definitely doesn’t line up anymore

last drink?: iced capp from tim hortons hehe. i don’t consume a lot of caffeine but that shit slaps and cold drinks are a must in this weather

last show?: i also don’t watch a lot of tv! uhhhhh i’m drawing a blank. there’s a chance it was Centaurworld but that was a WHILE ago (and i’ve been thinking of rewatching it soon)

favourite colour?: purples and teals. also browns when there’s a saturated accent colour with it

current obsession?: split between Blaseball (the brainrots been going strong since october) and several different groups of ocs. and also Animorphs i missed Animorphs so much i love Animorphs. fundamental to my childhood. i’m getting back to my roots

unrelated obsession?: not quite sure what this is asking! but Tears of the Kingdom is Up There as well, i’m trying not to rush through the game but i’m finding it very hard to put down ^-^’

or actually if that question is asking about obsessions not tied to any fandom. it’s prehistoric animals and/or bats :]

any pets?: there’s a lot of animals i know and interact with throughout the week. i live with a dog (old chihuahua named Prince) and 3 cats (Charming, Bella, and Mr. Kitty). of those, Mr. Kitty is My Cat part time. he loves my granny a lot too, he’s always either in my room or hers, snuggled up near one of us. he’s one of my best friends he’s so important to me :] my silly little guy

do you have a crush on anyone?: i still am not sure what that’s supposed to feel like and if i have ever felt it before but no i don’t right now. just love and admiration for my pals 🫶

favourite fictional characters: there’s so many my guy. i have a tag for blorbos that live in my brain. the ones on my mind a lot recently are a bunch of Blaseball players, the kids from Animorphs (in particular Rachel, Tobias, and Cassie. the latter two were always tied for favourite when i was a kid but i’ve also found a new appreciation for Rachel as well. man. these kids), the iterators from Rain World, the satellites from 17776/20020, Emmet & Ingo from Pokemon, the list can go on and on and on

last place you travelled?: uhhhh i don’t get out much! i haven’t left the valley i live in for years. i don’t know how far away ‘travel’ has to be to count as travel, the last trip i’ve been on might have been a family vacation into the states? in any case i didn’t go anywhere noteworthy in the past year or more

#bramble rambles #long post #ask memes #i don’t know if that’s the right one for this category of post but close enough #Spotify

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blvckqwz · 1 year

Text

Pilot

A/N

Hello guys, this is the first fanfic that I write so don't mind mistakes (besides english isn't my first language, sorry if this chapter sucks lol.) Also I'll use she/her pronuns in this fic and maybe there will be some physical descriptions in the next chapters but feel free to change them if you want!

One week. Just one week and Y/n would have turned 18, reaching the legal age to be floated. The idea of dying didn’t scare her like it should've, maybe because she hated every second that she spent in that crumbling cell.

She had a roommate, a dying girl who had a fatal illness, but Y/N attacked a guard and got sent into isolation before she could watch that poor girl getting floated or dying on her own.

She often wondered how it would feel to be out in the open space floating alongside the millions of rotting corpses of those executed before her. She knew that she would have her own answers soon, however terrifying that thought might be. Her eyes fell on that colorful dot in the middle of the dark.

The earth, her dream.Y/N was never what you'd call a model student but the voracity with which she devoured the books on earth given to her by her father could suggest otherwise.The truth is that the earth has always fascinated her since she was a child. for Y/N who has always hated enclosed spaces, the idea of being able to run free, being able to climb trees or even being able to taste those delicious fruits depicted in Earth science books was an indescribable joy for her

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden crash of the now open sliding door with two guards behind it. Before she could even ask what they were doing the guards walked towards her, asking her to give them her arm. “Like hell I am.” she said through gritted teeth with clenched fists. If there was one thing she hated it was guards who thought they could do whatever they wanted with their meager title.

One of them had a sick smirk on his face while he handed a briefcase to the other one, ignoring her. Y/N started sweating: could it be that she counted the days wrong and that today was her 18th birthday?

“It’s not my birthday yet, you can’t kill me!” she said, trying to be as threatening as possible while hiding the lump that was forming in her throat. The oldest guard, the one with the briefcase, gave her an annoyed look before mumbling something to the other asshole. Then he took out the case a wristband with needles on it.

Before Y/N could even realize what she was doing she started running towards the door. The oldest guard tried to stop her but she dodged him, sending him to the ground. She took a second to look at the unconscious man in front of her, not that she felt bad for him or anything like that, before running outside her cell. Once she was in the hallway she met a scene that confused her even more than before: delinquents were taken away from their cells by the guards, who were heading towards the exit of the prigion. She started panicking while looking around when suddenly her eyes met her father’s. He looked back at her before walking towards her.

“Shit.” Y/N mumbled under her breath before quickly turning around and starting running as fast as she could. Obviously that wasn’t fast enough. The vice chancellor held her by both arms before saying “Don’t fight them, it’s not worth it.” Y/N didn't understand what he ment. “I know you don’t understand what’s going on,” he continued almost as if he could read her mind “But you have to trust me on this. Do. Not. Fight. Them.”

“..A-are they going to float us all?” she couldn’t help but stutter while she asked that. “No, they aren’t.” her dad replied. “You are going to the ground. All 100 of you. We think that the earth could be optimal for survival again. Try to find food, water and a shelter, don’t get into fights with the other delinquents and don’t take this off.” He said as he put the wristband around her arm. Then he quickly walked away leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She didn’t even realize that she was walking alongside the other delinquents, her mind was racing too quickly for her to compreed. Luckily she had her diary in the pocket of her too big jacket. She started looking around again. She didn’t really know anyone in that mess although she recognized some people from earth skills class.

It didn’t make any sense, why would the council send 100 teenagers to Earth? Why not the guards? They are surely more experienced than a group of delinquents. Then it clicked: they were sacrificable. Y/N started feeling sick. Her father agreed to send her on the ground. He agreed that she was sacrificable.

Y/N felt an too familiar feeling rising in her chest. Rage. But this time it was different, it wasn’t just rage, it was pure animal survival instinct. She just had to try to control it like my father said, she couldn’t afford to make any mistake, she agreed as they finally arrived at the drop ship.

But then a guard tried to shove her in it and she decided she had enough of this, enough of getting told what to do and of following orders. Everyone knew that Y/N Kane had a temper, just like her father. She knew that she should've behaved her father’s orders, that she should've just stayed quiet. But what was the point? They were already sending her to die, what more could they do?

So she clenched her fist which collided with impressive strength on the guard jaw with a revolting crunch. It felt like time stopped, the entire ship was deadly quiet as everyone stared at her in horror. Then she felt a needle in her neck. She stumbled a couple of steps before falling into someone's arms.

What a great way to start a day.

“Y/N”

“...”

“Y/N!”

Y/N groaned in pain, opening her eyes to look at the person who dared trying to wake her up.

“Y/N!” the voice said again. Y/N turned around her head, not being able to find the source of that voice. “Y/N don’t do it, you were sedated.” Another voice said.

“What?” she finally replied, her throat feeling sore like she slept a thousand years. She finally recognized the voices, they were coming from behind her seat. She turned around, cursing herself for not listening to the voice.

“Jaha? Griffin?” She said, not believing that her two old best friends were on the same ship as her. “Yeah… long time no see uh?” Wells said with a sad smile. Clarke instead was just staring blankly at her with an expression that Y/N couldn’t quite read, which was strange since she was pretty observant. “What are you doing here?” Clarke finally said, giving her a suspicious look. Y/N stayed quiet for a bit. They wouldn’t understand, she thought. They already saw me knocking off a guard, they don’t need any more reason to think I’m a total basket case.

“Stealing medicines…” she finally replied, keeping her eyes low. While Wells looked like he believed her, Clarke was looking even more suspicious than before. That girl wasn’t dumb, Y/N thought with a sigh.

“And you? Why are you here?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “Wells got arrested for attacking a guard and… well I think you already know why I am here…” Clarke said and glanced at Wells, who looked embarrassed. “Oh shit” Y/N thought. Obviously she knew why Clarke got locked up: she knew the Ark’s secret, just like her and Wells, by what she heard. She also heard that Wells turned her father in for the same reason and judging by the embarrassed look Wells had it must be true. But she didn’t have much information since she was locked up two years ago. Y/N was so focused on thinking why Wells turned in Clarke’s father to realize that the two were now fighting.

When she realized she turned away embarrassed and tried to comprehend what was happening. They were really going to the ground. Just as she turned back she realized a boy was staring at her. A boy who was definitely too old to be on that ship. She recognized his jacket as a guard one, even if it was too battered to be his. Only then she realized that he was talking to her but it was too late.

“Are you deaf by any chance?” he asked.

“What?”

“I asked you a question like three times but you didn’t reply” He explained shrugging. What a rude person she thought.

“Oh sorry.” Y/N replied shortly. “What was the question?” she asked then.

“I asked if you were Marcus Kane’s daughter.”

Oh of course, now not only was she known as a raging psychopath but people already started to recognize her, she contemplated. Being Kane’s daughter wasn’t exactly a good thing,especially in a ship full of delinquents who hated him. Fantastic.

“You are a guard, aren’t you?” She retorted. He looked worried for a second, then nodded. What a strange group of people she thought. “Then you know who I am.” she concluded.

“So, since I think it’s obvious you’re not one of us, how did you get in there?” she asked. She had a weird feeling about him, even though she tried to brush it off since she didn't like anyone who talked to her. He sent her a look full of terror before replying under his breath “None of your business.” She just shrugged and turned her back at him. She wasn’t really willing to make friends or to talk.

Just as she turned around again she heard the little screen in front of her turning on, playing a speech given by the chancellor Jaha. “Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now…” he started saying.

She closed her eyes, not really caring about what he was saying but she didn't miss the worried look on the boy from before’s face when he saw Jaha. Weird. She was almost falling asleep as she was already exhausted.

But just when she started relaxing she heard a loud crash, followed by someone’s scream. the screen shut off and she started panicking again. At this speed they were going to crash. Y/N gripped to her harness so hard that her knuckles turned white. Sparks started to fly and the lights went off. We entered the atmosphere, we were going to die, she thought . She closed her eyes preparing herself for the fatal crash, but it didn’t come. Well there was a crash but it wasn’t fatal. At least for her. A pair of guys were lying on the floor unconsciously. Were they dead?

The ship was deadly silent and the air smelled like fried metal and blood, a smell that made Y/N’s stomach turn in disgust. Everyone was glued to their seats, afraid that if they moved they would discover some injuries. Y/N moved her fingers and her feets, then her arms and leg, trying to find if there was a broken bone.

When she realized that she was overall fine, even though her neck hurt like a bitch, she tried to take her harness off as quick as her shaking hand permitted and headed to the lower level.

“Just back it up!” She heard “the guard” yell and weirdly everyone listened to him. Y/N didn’t understand what the problem was and why didn’t he just open the goddamn door but then she saw Clarke making her way down to the boy. “Stop!” She yelled “the air could be toxic.” she said.

“Just what we needed.” Y/N mumbled causing a boy behind her to laugh. She turned around to look at him. He seemed ok, beside the goggles he had on his head. “I’m Jasper, Jasper Jordan.” He said “And this is Monty Green.” He continued, looking at the boy beside him. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” She replied, purposefully not saying her last name. Then she turned back to look at Clarke and the boy discussing if the door should be opened or not. “Bellamy?” A pretty girl said with wide eyes. She looked familiar, Y/N thought. Then it clicked. That was Octavia Blake, the girl who got hidden under the floor for 16 years. That meant that the boy was her brother. Of course now it made sense to Y/N why Bellamy was on that ship. “Oh my god, look how big you are.”Bellamy said.

She felt bad for them, maybe even a little jealous since she knew that no one would risk their life for her like Bellamy did for Octavia. Maybe it was better this way she thought, since she was damn sure she wouldn't risk anything for nobody. If there was one thing that she learnt from her father was to put herself first, if she wanted to survive. She looked away, wanting to give them their privacy, but clearly not everyone agreed with her.

“Where’s your wristband?” Clarke asked Bellamy. Y/N didn’t really despise her but she had to admit that sometimes Clarke was a little bit too stiff. “Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year.” Octavia retored, clearly annoyed by Clarke's interruption.

Silence fell on the ship as everyone looked confused.

“No one has a brother!” a boy shouted. “That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden under the floor!” another girl replied.

Octavia looked furious as she was ready to attack all of them but Bellamy caught her. “Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” he said to her. “Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.”

That was it. The moment that Y/N both feared and was waiting for. She could die but she could also start a new life. Bellamy opened the door and colors surrounded them. The sky was blue, the trees and grass bright green. It looked like a painting. The air was full of smells that Y/N couldn’t comprehend. Some delinquents were holding their breath, afraid that the air could be toxic.

Octavia toke a step out the ship, then another.

She jumped out and yelled “WE’RE BACK BITCHES!”

Everyone ran towards the exit, excited to be there. Y/N started to look around once she stepped out of the ship. She covered her eyes with her arm like a shield, not familiar with the sunlight. A smile of pure joy formed on her face.

Home. She was finally home again.

It looked like they landed on a circle shaped glade with a wood around it. The sky was deep blue, the grass was green and thick. It looked like a dream, Y/N thought.

“Wow.” she heard Wells whisper behind her.

“Yeah I know.” she replied breathlessly.

She started to look around for Clarke, finding her tracing on a map. “Something tells me that there is bad news behind the corner, isn't there?” Y/N asked

“Yes, there is.” Clarke replied, looking worried “We landed here, and Moun Weather is there. So we need to make our way there if we want to get that food. It’s probably going to take all day to hike there.” She explained. Y/N stayed quiet, all the excitement from before vanished before she could even enjoy it.

"We got problems. The communications system is dead. I went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires." Wells announced, making his way towards us.

"Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather. See? Look. This is us. This is where we need to get to if we want to survive." Clarke replied while shooting an annoyed look at the boy. Wells obviously missed it, but Y/N surely didn't. She couldn't help but wonder what really happened between them.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Wells asked. Clarke coughed and shifted on her feets awkwardly.”Your father…” he realized. Wells looked like he wanted to say something else but Y/N pipped in, while glaring at him. “We should go now if we want to be there before night falls.” Clarke agreed and Wells just nodded, still embarrassed.

“Hey” a voice called. Y/N swiveled around and saw Jasper walking towards her alongside Monty. “I just wanted to say that what you did to that guard was cool.” he said, making Y/N smile “Thanks.” she replied.

“Hey, cool, a map.” he continued, trying to flirt with Clarke. “They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer.” he smirked, leaving Clarke flustered. Y/N thought it was funny but Wells clearly didn’t agree.

“You mind??” he snarled to Jasper, grabbing his arm. Before Clarke or Y/N could stop him another boy jumped in the conversation, followed by a lot of other delinquents. “Hey, hey, hey, hands off of him. He's with us.” He barked at Wells. “Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are." Wells replied, trying to sound calm. But Y/N noticed how his eyes flickered to look at the crowd that was forming around them. He was scared.

"We're on the ground. That is not good enough for you?" Bellamy said from afar, making his way with Octavia towards the crowd.

"Thanks captain obvious but I don't think that's what Wells ment." Y/N replied annoyed. Why couldn't anyone just mind their own fucking bussines she thought.

"Exactly." Wells responded, giving Y/N a silent thank you "We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority." He announced.

The crowd started whispering, worried that they weren't going to survive.

"Screw your father." Octavia retorted. "What, you think you're in charge here, you and your little Princess?"

What a group of idiots, Y/N thought. She had enough of this bullshit.

"No one fucking cares about who is in charge. We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be." She replied.

"Y/N is right. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now." Clarke added.

"I got a better idea. You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change." Bellamy said, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. That boy was seriously starting to get on her nerves.

"You're not listening. We all need to go." Wells basically begged.

Y/N was tired of this dumb argument. This was her first day on Earth, she wasn't going to spend it with a group of imbeciles. But just as she was going away, someone pushed Wells from behind. "Look at this, everybody… The Chancellor of Earth." The boy from before said.

The crowd immediately started cheering, clearly wanting the two of them to fight. Y/N started to walk again towards Wells to stop the other dumbass to do whatever he was going to do but someone stopped her garbing her. She wanted to whirl around and hit them but a voice inside her head told her to keep her eyes on the boy, in case he tried to attack Wells.

The boy hit Wells in the leg, causing him to fall. But he immediately got up, even though he was clearly hurt.

"Kid's got one leg. How about you wait until it's a fair fight?" Another boy jumped in, getting between Wells and the delinquent. A thick silence shifted on the crowd but Y/N didn't care. She freed herself with a push and hurried by Wells side, trying to help him up.

" Uh! So Mount Weather. When do we leave?" She heard the spacewalker say to Clarke.

"Right now. We'll be back tomorrow with food." Clarke replied.

"Do you think you can stand?" Y/N asked Wells, trying to hide the concern in her voice. Wells was like her brother before she got locked up, and even though they weren’t friends anymore she still worried for him sometimes.

"Yeah yeah, don't worry, I've got this." Wells said, giving her a small smile.

"Don't even think about it. You aren't coming." Clarke instructed. "Neither are you, you have to keep an eye on him." Clarke said to Y/N, which caused her to roll her eyes. "I think that we are both capable of making our decisions for ourselves thank you." She replied. If there was one thing that she definitely didn't need was following someone else's orders.

"But yeah, I think I'll stay. Someone has to keep an eye on them." She concluded, eyeing Bellamy and his crowd.

"Well need more people." Clarke said, ignoring Y/N comment. She knew that her and Y/N weren't exactly friends but she didn't expect her to be so hostile. It hurted a bit, but Y/N wasn’t nice to anyone so Clarke didn’t take it too personally. She sounds just like Kane, Clarke thought before looking at Finn, waiting for a solution.

Finn grabbed Monty and Jasper and turned back to Clarke "Four of us. Can we go now?"

"Sounds like a party. Make it five." Octavia said.

"Ok then let's go." Clarke said, giving one last look to Wells and Y/N, who was too absorbed in biting her nails to notice it.

As the group walked away, Wells looked at the girl that he once defined almost like a sister. Sure, Y/N wasn't exactly a pleasant person but he knew that she would protect him. At least he hoped since he had a broken leg and Y/N was the only one who wasn’t a complete stranger, or worse, one of Murphy’s minions.

"So, how's your leg?" Y/N suddenly asked, which made Wells jump in surprise. She surely was scarier than he remembered.

"It's not that bad, I think I can walk." He replied. It was a lie. It hurted like hell, but Wells didn't want to look weak.

"That's good. See you later." Y/N replied, walking away.

Both of them were completely unaware of Bellamy's piercing gaze, who studied them on the other side of the camp. He couldn't help but wonder why the son of the Chancellor and the daughter of the Vice Chancellor were on Earth. They were privileged in Bellamy's eyes, so why where they sent to die like the rest of them. It brushed it off, saying to himself that as long as they didn't get in his way they weren't his problem.

Y/N spent the rest of her day going around the camp and picking some sticks to make a bow and some arrows. She wanted to go hunting as soon as possible, just to see what animals were like. Then she climbed up a small tree to try to build her bow but just as he was about to begin she saw an unknowing Wells walking towards Murphy and his group. Sounds like troubles, Y/N thought as she climbed down the tree, walking towards Wells.

“Oh hey Y/N.” Wells greeted her.

“Hey Wells.” Y/N said, her eyes not leaving Murphy’s figure.

“Still keeping an eye on them uh?” Wells asked, causing Y/N to briefly look at him.

“I don’t trust them.” She replied.

“Neither do I.” Wells concluded.

“Find any water yet?” Murphy asked, making his way towards them.

“No, not yet, but, I'm going back out if you want to come.”

Murphy cruckled, not really amused but more pissed off.

He hated privileged people, with their ridiculous problems and their new clothes, but most of all he hated the Chancellor and his Vice. So, since he couldn’t personally fight them he was going to give their progeny a hard time. That’s what he thought as he stopped right before Y/N, who was giving him an irritated look.

“You know, my father, he begged for mercy in the airlock chamber when your father floated him.” Murphy said to a stunned Wells. “And, if I’m not wrong your daddy was the one who exposed him.” He continued, now speaking to Y/N, who was too tired to give a fuck. After he seen that neither of them was going to react he signaled his minions to move, just to reveal an engraved inscription on the drop ship’s wall

“First son, first to dye” It said.

Murphy shot Y/N a triumphant smile, waiting for her to snap at him. Y/N instead just said “Although I'm surprised that you neanderthals can write I would like to inform you that you misspelled die.” Before walking away.

"Geniuses." Wells added before following her.

The night came pretty fast and with that another problem, that obviously included Murphy and Bellamy.

Y/N had just finished making her arrows on her tree when she saw a crowd of people around the bonfire. She didn’t quite understand what was going on but as soon as she recognized Murphy and Bellamy among them she quickly made her way towards the crowd, knowing that they were bad news.

Y/N stood behind the crowd still not understanding what the fuck were they doing so she garbed a poor girl who walked past her and asked her what was going on, but the girl run away. Weird.

She decided that if she wanted more information she had to get nearer the bonfire. Just as she got there she noticed Murphy and his friends with a girl she didn’t know who just had her wristband removed.

Oh no.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She heard a voice say. She turned around trying to find the source of those wise words and of course it was Wells. Y/N was starting to think they were the only people with the thinnest bit of brain on heart at this point.

“We're liberating ourselves. What does it look like?” Bellamy replied smirking, as he made his way towards Wells. At the same time Y/N decided to walk to him, wanting to be there if the idiot tried to attack him.

“It looks like you're trying to get us all killed. The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we got. Take them off, and the Ark will think we're dying.” Y/N quickly answered, looking furious as she did.

“So?” Murphy asked, looking annoyed.

“So no one is going to follow us here if they think it's not safe.” Y/N shot back. She wasn’t going to give up easily.

“We don’t need the Ark’s help. We can take care of ourselves, can't we?” Bellamy yelled to the crowd. A choir of enthusiastic voices raised from the crowd.

“You think this is a game? Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers. I don't care what he tells you. We won't survive here on our own, and besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?” Wells replied.

“Yeah and then what, do you think that they will forget our crimes? Maybe they’ll forget yours or hers but they’ll never forgive us.” Bellamy said, his eyes full of anger.

“Why can’t you understand that there won’t be forgiveness for anyone if the Ark doesn’t come down?” Y/N asked Bellamy.

“He’s lying to you, we won’t be able to survive more than a month without the Ark’s help.” she continued, not even giving Bellamy the time to reply to her question.

Silence fell on the crowd as everyone watched her. She turned around just to find Wells staring at her. He gave her a small nod, as if he was encouraging her to talk.

“The Ark is dying.” Y/N announced. "Within 3 months there won't be any oxygen and everyone on the Ark will die.”

Worried murmurs started to spread among the crowd.

“That’s why we are here, that’s why it is so goddamn important that you keep those wristbands on. Because they are our future. No, we are our future. We are the last chance of the human race. So, if you want to condemn thousands of people go ahead, but just know that you are no better than the Chancellor then.” She concluded.

Murphy shot Bellamy a worried glance before yelling “Don’t listen to her.”

But it was too late. The crowd was already walking away, no longer interested in killing their own families.

That’s when Bellamy realized that he had to overcome an even more powerful speech.

“Murphy’s right. Don’t listen to her. She’s Macrus Kane's daughter, she's privileged. She doesn’t understand our struggles, she doesn’t understand our fears. She will be forgiven by the second the Ark steps here. She says we need to save our people. I say my people are already down here. Those people locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child.” Bellamy said before turning to Y/N and Wells and walking towards them.

“Your fathers did that.”

“They didn’t write the laws.” Wells said, stepping between Y/N and Bellamy before one of them could beat the other one up.

“No. They enforced them, but not anymore, not here. Here, there are no laws.” Bellamy concluded before turning again toward the crowd. “Here, we do whatever the hell we want whenever the hell we want.” The crowd started cheering like crazy. Then he turned to Y/N, completely ignoring Wells.

“You don't have to like it, Kane. You can even try to stop it or change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want.” He said, staring at her dead in her eyes.

“Oh trust me I will.” She hissed through her teeth, her worlds barely audible due to the tumult around them. Bellamy was ready to shoot back but was interrupted by thunder.

It was raining. Real rain was falling over them.

Y/N felt all her rage being washed away as the rain fell on her.

She barely heard Wells and Bellamy arguing but she didn’t care. Not anymore. This was too beautiful to waste it over a stupid argument. She was surprised of herself, normally she would’ve picked an argument over anything. Maybe Earth was really changing her. Or maybe she hit her head during the landing and didn’t realize it until now.

With that thought she went to sleep, and for the first time in months she slept well.

Bellamy on the other hand was anything but calm. Yes he won the argument, but he almost lost it too. And he couldn’t afford that, not if he wanted to survive down there. Maybe they were right, maybe the Ark would forgive their crimes. But not his.

“What are we going to do with them?” Murphy asked.

“I’ll fight Jaha when he’ll be able to walk again, that'll teach him a lesson.”

“He’s not the one I’m talking about.” Murphy replied, looking at Y/N, who was now trying to build a tent for the night. “I’m talking about her. She’s the problem. She almost won tonight.”

“We can’t let her win again, not if we want to rule down there.” Bellamy solemnly said. He didn’t expect Kane to be such a threat for his plan.

Now there was just one thing to do: take her and Jahas wristbands. Bellamy knew that he couldn’t afford another night like this, and it fucking terrified him. But he couldn’t show it, he was their leader.

He immediately found Jaha and quickly toke his wristband, threatening him with a gun.

But no matter how hard he looked for Y/N, he couldn’t find her, and it was making him furious.

“How do you think you can take it without her biting your head off?” Murphy kept asking, following Bellamy around the camp like a lost puppy. “You saw her on the drop ship didn’t you? She went completely psycho just because a guard tried to touch her… I don’t know man, maybe we should take just Jaha’s wristband. From what I heard Kane doesn’t even care about his daughter…” Murphy continued. But Bellamy wasn’t listening to him, his mind was focused on finding that psychotic bitch.

“Maybe we shoul-”

“Listen man, I don’t care if you are scared of that little lunatic but I’m taking her wristband even if I have to cut her hand off, got it?” he snapped.

“Maybe for tonight I will only take Jaha’s but trust me when I tell you that I will get that damn wristband.” He concluded, before storming off to his tend.

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fluff #clarke griffin #wells jaha #marcus kane #john murphy #fanfic

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mitchelldailygames · 6 months

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Heroes of Song Devlog Part 11: Picking It Back Up

I set this game to the side for a bit to work on some other projects, but recently have found some new motivation and have been diving back into it! As always, the design principles:

The heroes are cute.

Kindness matters.

The world is weird.

Sometimes you don’t fight. Sometimes you do.

Health is hearts.

Art Announcement

One of the main drivers of my new motivation is that I got art back! Check back here on the Wednesday after Christmas to see the first piece! You can also follow me on the website I continue to call Twitter to see it.

Having something to look at, something to grasp of this world I’ve been imagining, is very exciting and life-giving. On all other projects I’ve released, I’ve either done the art myself or used stock images, so there were always limitations. Having a very talented artist actually create the perfect artwork for this game is incredible. I highly recommend it. 10/10.

The artist is @warrenbutgnome. You should definitely check out his stuff.

Layout or “The Look”

I’ve recently been trying out some layout ideas and feel like I’m approaching something that I like. You can see it below. The pixelation is hiding some of the art I will be revealing soon, and the text isn’t final, but you can get the idea. I’ll just say, I’m sticking with “The heroes are cute.”

I like having the solid color corners so you can easily find chapters. The dots in that solid color field are the forj’d rune numbers for the chapter number. I think overall, this look is pretty clean and doesn’t interfere with the text. This is friendlier and softer than a lot of the stuff I’ve made (especially recently) which I think is good for this game.

The text will be justified, not left aligned. I’ve already changed it on the document. The fonts used here are Da Pandora for the title/chapter headings and Palatino for everything else. I don’t know what else to say about it, but getting this done, even though I’m a long way off from actually finalizing text and laying everything out, is really encouraging. If you have suggestions or feedback, I’m open to it!

Character Sheet

I’ve also been working on the character sheet. You can find the current version of first page, which contains the essential information for a character, below.

Knowing how much space I actually have while looking at the page on a computer is always a challenge for me. I have a tendency to give way too much space for some things and not leaving enough for others. Looking at it now, I see there is much more space for writing out the second piece of gear than the first. That could definitely be improved. Earlier versions had huge boxes for the character portrait/description, and I like it slimmed down.

I liked the idea of coloring in the symbols with color for hearts, effort, and spirit based on how much your max was. Trying it out with just normal pencils is a little awkward, so I might end up making a version that doesn’t have that so I can free up space for writing out move descriptions or songs, runes, and rituals. I’m also not sure how to get a fillable pdf that allows filling up the images for the pools without doing some programming that I don’t know how to do. That’s definitely no the top priority at the moment, but it’s on my mind. If someone reading this knows exactly how they’d do it, I’d be willing to pay to get it done.

Other Stuff

I’ve been tweaking the rules. I’ve been stat-ing out enemies. I’ve even been working out some downtime systems including a community building mechanic and mini-games for a variety of leisure/non-adventuring activities like fishing/hunting, foraging, and cooking. I also made a list of prompts for getting to know your characters a bit better when nothing else is going on. Sometimes you don’t fight.

I was going to get into all of that, but as I started writing it, I realized it really was its own post. So keep an eye out for that down the line!

The world is weird; kindness matters.

--Daily

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpg dev #heroes of song #legend of zelda

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flipfic · 7 months

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Hello!!

I have another Orufrey fic for you all!!

This one didn't start as a slow burn, buuut I thought I should try my hand at it!

I don't have a title yet, but if you feel so compelled please reply with one! I think this chapter could be called... perhaps something along the lines of "The Great Outdoors." As before, this should be up on Ao3 soon :)

We'll see! I hope you enjoy!

Quiet. All was quiet. Stars dotted the night sky, and four little heads had surely been sent to bed. But two of the witches in the Atelier were still awake.

Olruggio laid on the grass outside, staring up at the sky in thought. He had a new project to work on, one that would project the stars into his bedroom to ease the feeling of longing he had to sleep outdoors. Or was it a blanket that could protect him from bugs as he slept outside..? His brows furrowed and he reached one hand out to grab the stars. Help me figure this out. He’d begged them.

A gentle thud next to him answered his prayers, and he chuckled softly. “I hadn’t noticed you.”

“So much for the Watchful Eye.” Qifrey grinned.

Olruggio sat up and glanced over Qifrey. “Won’t you be cold? You’re not wearing your robes.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got you here to warm me up, right?” Qifrey gently bumped Olruggio’s shoulder. He hadn’t noticed before, but with him was a small plate holding one small spoon and two mugs filled with hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. The smell was incredible. Olruggio had made the mugs long ago, capable of keeping hot drinks at a pleasant drinking temperature forever.

Olruggio clicked his tongue and bashfully looked away, holding one hand out for the mug. He never knew where he stood with Qifrey. All these flirtatious remarks had been far more frequent in the past few weeks than in their entire lives. What did he want? Was he being silly? Or… did he want what Olruggio wanted too? “We’ll see. You never know who’s watching. Agott told me she’d go to sleep, but I think she’s going to work late on her sigils again. She might peek through her window.”

“That girl.” Qifrey sighed affectionately, letting his fingertips linger on Olruggio’s warm hand for a moment before grabbing his own mug, bringing it to his lips and drinking the deliciously sweet chocolate. He grabbed the spoon, and stirred the whipped cream into the drink. “She’s just like you.”

“I hope not.” Olruggio huffed. He scooped some whipped cream with his fingertip, and licked it off. “She needs to rest. She won’t get anything done if she can’t sleep.”

Qifrey pursed his lips. “Is that why you’re out here?”

“I’m thinking.” Olruggio scoffed, glancing at Qifrey. He blushed when his gaze was met. How long had they been together? For him to know his every move, every thought? They moved and acted as one. Two halves of one whole.

“So’s she.” Qifrey smiled, placing a hand on Olruggio’s thigh. “She wants to be the best there is.”

Olruggio knit his brows nervously glancing at Qifrey’s hand, “She will be. But not if she can’t think. She’s too young for all of… all of this.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture at his own figure. “I don’t want her to struggle because she gets ahead of herself.”

Qifrey sipped his hot chocolate again, and inched closer to Olruggio. “She can take care of herself. More or less… let’s trust her for tonight. Care to share your cloak?”

“I told you so.” Olruggio grunted as Qifrey took his cup. He lifted his behind off the ground for a moment to move his cloak. One fluid motion and the two men were pressed against each other side-by-side underneath Olruggio’s cloak.

“Perfect.” Qifrey hummed, resting his chin on Olruggio’s shoulder.

Olruggio felt his face getting hot. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

“Olly?”

“Mm?” Olruggio couldn’t bring himself to look at his childhood friend. Would these next words change their life? Would he have to flee the atelier? Would telling Qifrey he loved him since they were young be an admission of guilt? That he fantasized about the other man? That any romance he’s even thought to pursue was nothing compared to the love he felt for his friend? It was hard to admit to himself that he loved Qifrey knowing it could ruin their relationship, knowing he’d have to bury these feelings deep to keep their life stable but to admit it to Qifrey himself? Could he do it?

“Don’t you want your drink?”

“Huh?”

“Your hot chocolate!”

“Oh! Right, right. Sorry.” Olruggio took the mug with a shaky hand.

“You’re all red…” Qifrey placed the back of his hand against Olruggio’s forehead. “Is all this time outside getting you sick?”

You’re killing me. Olruggio thought. How could I do this to you?

“Olly? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Olruggio whispered.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything. You’re my closest friend.” Qifrey smiled.

That smile. That goddamned smile. How can such sweet words sting so bad? I don’t want to be your friend. I haven’t wanted that for years. Please just give me a sign, Qifrey. Say that you want me, too.

“I’m alright.” Olruggio nodded. “Just… cold. I wish I had brought a contraption out here. One to keep us warm.”

“I quite like this.” Qifrey said, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on Olruggio’s trembling shoulders. “It’s comfortable out here. With you.”

“Mm.” Olruggio nodded. He sipped his drink, and couldn’t help but picture Qifrey in the kitchen making his drink. Carefully melting the chocolate, watching the milk to ensure it never came to a real boil. His heart twisted. Everything this man did made his heart ache. How was this fair?

Qifrey hummed and set his mug back down on the plate he had brought with him. He wrapped his arms around Olruggio's waist. “You like it here, don't you Olly? With me and the girls?”

“Of course.” Olruggio glanced down at Qifrey in surprise. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Sometimes I wonder, is all. If you'd be better off in the city.”

“The best place in the world for me is right here with you.” Olruggio knit his brows.

“Ah. I was hoping you'd say that.” Qifrey smiled.

“You were?”

“Of course. I love having you here.”

“Is that why you made me hot chocolate? To convince me to stay?” Olruggio gave a little half-smile.

“Maybe.” Qifrey giggled. “I know that look on your face. The one where you won't sleep for hours because you're worried about a contraption. But you don't have to be. Tomorrow, we'll let the girls sleep in. So can you.”

“Qifrey…” Olruggio sighed softly. “You don't have to.”

“It's alright.” Qifrey squeezed Olruggio's arm. “The girls adore you. They'd be so sad to see you struggling like this.”

“I'll get it.”

“You always do.” Qifrey shifted and slid Olruggio's cloak off his own shoulders. He grabbed his mug and plate before standing. “But it's getting late. We should head inside.”

Olruggio blinked up at Qifrey, then nodded and stood, chugging the rest of his hot chocolate. “Right.”

The walk back to the house was quiet. Every few seconds Olruggio glanced up, feeling his heart swell and his throat tighten. He realized it was far too late to say anything when Qifrey took his mug, squeezed his arm and wished him goodnight.

Olruggio watched Qifrey as he left for their kitchen. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, walking to his room to retire for the night. As he laid in bed, all he could think about was that man. He wanted more than anything to be more than just friends. But was it even possible?

#fanfiction #orufrey #Olruggio #qifrey #witch hat atelier fanfic #witch hat atelier #atelier of witch hat #tongari boushi no atelier #Sigils of love fanfic

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mazm-imagines · 2 years

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MazM Week Day 3 prompt for warmth! The hands look weird wahhhhh, but hey. Get ready for angst i got really carried away and wrote 1k words.

The crying of a child was the only thing that kept Pyotr on his last thread. His weary jet-black eyes scanned the cart again. It was the same as always, refugees and immigrants crammed into every inch.

Why did he leave again? He couldn't remember. All he remembered was the agonizing loneliness and shame. His body was so very tired and frail.

"Pechka" was the title given to Jaehyung Choi for his warmth and generosity. He was a man truly worthy of that title. Pyotr only wished he was worthy too.

There was a reason Igor didn't follow him. He followed only "Pechka," the original Pyotr, not some fraud of a namesake.

His life really was a cheap imitation in every way, stolen too. He took Mr. Choi's name, he took his apprentices life, and he took his resources. Yet he couldn't even make something worthy come from it. He couldn't even forge a path Choi would've been proud of.

Just from behind a woman, he could already see the black and red spirit of Choi, sneering, mocking. Lev Song and Hodu not too far behind. Those demons were still eating at him, it was what he deserved.

They were gone, they were all gone. Asya, Lizaveta, Daejin, Misha…

Misha left him too didn't he? He was right, Pyotr was too soft to ever have made a change in this world. 'I hope… wherever they are, they will be happy.' He silently prayed to himself. Everyone was huddled together and the cold winter felt like nothing in their warmth.

The cold also prevented the corpses from smelling, at least, the odor was less than if it was a hot day.

Some couldn't make the trip, Pyotr barely had any of his own rations left as he gave them away, how long could he stay without water? Soon… persevere.

"Papa… I'm thirsty…" "I know… I'm sorry, we'll be there soon! I promise…"

Was that an empty lie said by his father? He wouldn't sell his child at least, he was at least trying.

Pyotr remembers it all too well. He wishes his father was like that. The bastard that started all of this…

He's long gone now, and Pyotr would never be like him anymore. He will never take again.

"Excuse me… you can have mine."

Pyotr procured the kindest smile he could, the wrinkles around his dry mouth making him akin to a kind uncle. He outstretched his last remaining water bottle to the child. All of his remaining strength was used to make sure he didn't look as frail as he was. To make sure the child wouldn't hesitate.

It was survival of the fittest, but that didn't mean he couldn't be kind. That kindness was abused long ago, but it will never happen again.

"Really?! B-but…"

His father knew wordlessly as he took the bottle from Pyotr, the look in his eyes was a mix of regret and relief.

"Now now… Say thank you to your elders." "Thank you so much!" "Of course, grow strong and well."

Pyotr gave a warm smile watching the child drink it all down. He wishes he had that energy still, even if it's the end for him, that boy still has so much to live for.

It was all starting to get fuzzy for him. 'Is this the end?' It's all the remaining parts of his consciousness could muster.

Choi… Asya… Liza… Daejin… Misha… Mother…

It was all going in and out, from cradle to grave. For what he did, he could go out with a smile. Not even the demons sneering at him could change that.

"Mister! Mister!" The boy cried out to the lifeless body sitting by him. "Son… He's gone…"

The train had come to a stop, and all the passengers could finally leave. Many bodies had to be thrown out before they could however.

"Papa…" "Remember this man alright? He saved our lives…"

Pyotr's lifeless, yet still warm body was slung over the man's shoulder, at least until he could find a proper spot.

There he placed a grey blanket and laid the body on top. White flowers dotted the peaceful field. It was dirtied with corpses, but the beauty of it all reclaimed them.

The boy only looked on with mournful eyes. However others that recognized the emaciated remains gathered. "Unknown man, we cannot give you a proper burial, and for that I deeply apologize."

"Pyotr Sergeyvich Belov, he was a good man… he is the reason I'm still alive." an old woman responded.

"Mine too…" an old man chimed in agreeance.

"A man for the people. You provided us with life at the cost of your own, an oven burning coal to sustain us."

"May you rest in peace…"

"Bye bye Mister...."

They couldn't spend any more time as they had miles to walk. With a final goodbye, all 4 mourners had left.

Pyotr had left the mortal realm, he may have thought his life meaningless, but it was with his life could he have nourished 4 more. Just as Jaehyung Choi did long ago.

He was worthy of Pechka.

#mazm #mazm pechka #Pyotr Sergeyevich Belov #MazM week #mod gwaaaaar #gwaaaaar art #gwaaaaar writing

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glassarrows · 1 year

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so because i’m ✨slow✨, here’s a dot points version of matthias’s backstory while the carrd is still being done. (cw for transphobia and suicidal thoughts, though these are both implied in the text.)

born in 9:20 in a small clan located within the arbor wilds. father was a clanless wanderer who did not stick around long enough to see matthias’s birth. mother was a healer / nurse.

extremely interested in learning practical hunting skills and essentially harassed the hunters to teach him, unintentionally causing the senior clan members to clash with his mother as he was originally on the path to be apprenticed under her. she sided with him to a degree, supporting his decision to learn archery as part of becoming a hunter.

started experiencing gender dysphoria around 13, the same age he became a hunter. while he did not outwardly start identifying as a man, this furthered the tensions between him and the rest of the hunters who were primarily cis men. from basically day one, matthias felt the need to prove himself even further to justify his presence with them, meanwhile internally struggling with the knowledge that admitting his dysphoria would make matters worse.

as his teenage years progress, he becomes more and more withdrawn in his down time as he came to the confident realization he was a man. this behavior drew more attention to himself by those who already had a bone to pick, which made his self esteem worse and the cycle continued.

at the age of 16, matthias was dragged out of bed one night by the hunters around his age and went with them to the lake nearby where the clan was settled. they had devised a small test of supposed ‘bravery’ — to walk along the frozen lake and back. he agreed to it in the hopes they’d leave him alone after this. halfway across the lake, the ice cracked and he fell in but was just able to swim and get out. matthias now knew that it wasn’t safe for him to be with the clan anymore after essentially having a near death experience. at first daylight, he placed a short letter on his pillow, kissed his mother on the head, and left with a small pack never to look back.

the following months were spent wandering and relying on his survival skills to get by. it was not until late spring that he stumbled upon a scout from clan lavellan and they brought him in after learning part of his story. he was immediately attended to by two girls: aelita, the keeper’s first, and cinder, a rogue. the three of them quickly became friends and he decided to join the clan, becoming matthias lavellan.

the following years were fairly uneventful aside from attempting to stay stealth. he was still reserved within clan lavellan, though nobody attempted to pry or harassed him about it. eventually, he would be asked by the keeper to travel to the conclave as a spy along with cinder. while present, he stumbled upon corypheus with the anchor and came into contact with it. this led to matthias gaining the mark and the breach opening.

upon learning of the events that transpired, matthias immediately denied any involvement to try and get out of what was quickly becoming far too big for him. he also denied the herald of andraste title, repeatedly stating it was just an accident and nothing more. he willingly participated in helping the fledgling inquisition, however this was more out of a perceived obligation and belief that they would soon get someone better suited to leading and he could fade into obscurity. at one point while in haven, matthias attempts to leave but is found a few days later by leliana and returns.

matthias nearly dies again during the fall of haven and is in and out of consciousness for a week afterwards, telling cullen and cassandra that they should have left him in the wreckage. the events change his perspective on both his presence within the group and that he truly is the best chance they have. after the move to skyhold, matthias formally takes on the title of inquisitor, embracing more of the responsibility though establishing the organization strictly for maintaining order while working to close the breach.

events of inquisition basically follow as normal (for now) with the added benefit of matthias finally able to start hrt. corypheus is defeated and the breach is sealed, but the inquisition remains at a largely scaled back level in order to deal with any remaining threats. this stays in place for two years until matthias is called to the exalted council to help decide what to do with the inquisition.

matthias learns throughout the events of trespasser that solas is fen’harel himself and confronts him about this. his anger and grief over the betrayal, losing his arm, and having dedicated most of his twenties to this fight leads him to return to the council and disband the inquisition. this is the last time he’s seen by any of his allies as he disappears.

matthias ends up settling on the edge of the arlathan forest, far away from anywhere he’s been before. he eventually adopts a wolf after nursing her back to health and names her bellanaris. rumors spin and spin about the former inquisitor, while some claim to have seen a silver eyed elven man in villages around the forest. due to the forest’s notorious haunted status, nobody really gives these claims credence.

#codex — loneliness is the fracture that never quite heals right.#i forgot beta editor auto saves drafts and thought this had been lost to time

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incorrectjane-andthedragon · 2 years

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Whatever It Takes: A Dragonblade AU fic

What if there was a new female knight introduced in Dragonblade?

“News, everybody, news!” Gunther called as he came sprinting from the stables.

“What news, Gunther?” Jester asked. “Has your father finally told you about the birds and the bees?”

“No, but he did tell me about everything that he believes got stolen last night!”

The table went quiet.

“He is not being paranoid, either, I’ve checked. Many pieces of jewelry, small clothing items, coins, and other miscellaneous valuables have either been moved or have completely vanished.”

“I’m so sorry,” Pepper breathed.

“Thank you, but I am not looking for pity. I am looking out for the rest of you. There is a fairly skilled thief on the loose, and who knows where they will strike next?”

Jane nodded gravely. “If they are targeting the wealthy, then you must warn my father and the king.”

“What thief could get past castle walls?” Jester interjected.

“Well, my father always swore no thief could get past our walls either, and look what happened. We must be on the look out for anyone or anything suspicious. Be wary of strangers.”

“Well, we’re not expecting anyone new anytime soon.”

“Well, other than Sir Theodore’s old friend, Haroldus.” Gunther said, changing the subject abruptly. “He is coming soon.”

“Ah, but he is an old friend, not a stranger.” Pepper said, determined to see the good in everything.

“But he is rather suspicious.” Smithy piped up. “Remember that monkey of his?”

The conversation shifted to talk of Haroldus and his monkey.

Princess Lavinia wasn’t very interested in that, so she let her mind wander to her new friend, Cal. While no thief could get past castle walls, Cal could. She’d done it this very morning with all her belongings in tow, even her sword. Lavinia was extremely impressed by the sword. She was even more impressed that Cal could arrive undetected by anyone but Lavinia.

Well, now that she thought about it…

“Cal?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Are you the thief who robbed Magnus Breech?”

“I do not know who Magnus Breech is.” Cal said earnestly, and Lavinia could see in her light brown eyes that she was telling the truth.

Cal had beautiful eyes, and a beautiful face to match. Her eyes and hair were light brown, and her pale face was thin and dotted with pimples.

“Why are you staring at me, Princess?” Cal asked. Hesitantly, as if she was afraid she would be punished for asking her superior such a question.

“Your face is beautiful, but I am not sure if it is very knightlike.”

“The only way to have a knightlike face is to become a knight, Your Highness.” Cal answered calmly.

“And that is why you are here today!” Lavinia said with a grin. “To become a knight!”

“Well, Your Majesty, I would like to become a knight today, but alas, I must complete more training. That is truly why I am here, Your Highness.”

“Everyone else calls me ‘Your Little Majesty.’ A knight must always know the proper title to address their ruler by.”

“Of course, Your Little Majesty.” Cal looked as if she wanted to say something more, but she swallowed it.

“Are you ready?” Lavinia asked.

Cal squared her shoulders and nodded.

“Yes, Father, I promise I will be on the lookout. Nothing will escape my gaze. No stranger shall be met without scrutiny.”

Milton nodded, and Jane gave him a hug. Then she left his study and went to prepare for patrol. She got only a few steps down the hallway when she was intercepted by the princess.

“Your Little Majesty, I do not have time to play, I must go on patrol.”

“This is much more important than play.” The princess said with a proud grin. “I have brought a comrade for you.”

That sounds like imaginary play to me. “Oh?” Jane asked.

Lavinia was bouncing a little with excitement. “Yes! Jane, I want you to meet Cal.”

Cal slipped out of the shadows so quickly Jane almost choked on her own gasp. Where there had been what Jane assumed to be a visitor or staff member, there was now a girl around her age, maybe younger, holding a small sword.

“Who are you?” Jane breathed.

“Didn’t you hear me just introduce her? This is Cal.”

“It is nice to meet you,” Cal extended a weathered hand. Jane shook it numbly but firmly.

“Why are you here? How did you get in undetected?”

“I realize this is not the best way for our paths to have crossed,” Cal said earnestly. “But there’s no reason for you to fear me. I am simply a fellow knight-in-training, like you.”

“What?”

“Jane?” Milton’s voice came from his study as he walked out. “Jane, I heard you gasp, is something-oh!”

“Sorry to startle you, sir.” Cal said smoothly, turning to him. “Her Little Majesty wanted to introduce me to your daughter, a fellow honorable warrior. Can you tell me where the training area is? Where the knights train?

“It-it is that way.” he pointed slowly, looking at Lavinia and Cal and back again.

“Relax, she does not bite. She only swings her sword around ferociously.” Lavinia said to the chamberlain with a smile. She turned to Cal. “Let’s go, I cannot wait to show you everything!”

As soon as they left, Milton jogged to the throne room as fast as he could without spreading panic.

“So, Cal,” Jane said, trying to ignore the stares following the two of them. “When did you begin your training? I started mine when I was ten.”

“Oh my, you’re lucky. I didn’t start mine until I was fourteen. I am sixteen now, by the way. How did you start your training, Jane?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was because of a dragon?”

“A dragon?”

“Yes. I had longed dreamed of being a knight, but I had no opportunity to prove myself until a dragon kidnapped the prince and I rescued him. Now, Dragon and I are the closest of friends. We go on patrol together every day. There he is now, probably looking for me. Hello, Dragon!”

“Why are you late?” Dragon shouted as he landed. “Has some illness befallen-who are you?”

“Dragon, this is Cal. Cal, this is Dragon.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dragon.” Cal extended her hand as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Jane wished it was. Being the only female warrior she knew was a title she was glad to have, but it could be a heavy and lonely one at times. She wished she could have been around another every day. Hopefully, now she could be, now that Cal was here.

Dragon leaned forward and sniffed her hand deeply. “You smell funny.” He remarked, looking her up and down.

“Dragon!” Jane chided.

“No, it’s the truth. I’m constantly covered in sweat, from all the training. Speaking of training, how do you feel about sparring?”

A familiar smile spread across Jane’s face. “I would love to.”

Each girl drew her respective sword, and began exchanging blows as if they’d done this every day for years. The only indication something was amiss was the crowd beginning to gather around them, chattering adults and whispering children alike. No one wanted to interrupt the sparring, to break the spell falling over each girl.

Cal fought with passion, but she clearly lacked much of the precision that Jane had developed from years of training. Her steps were unsteady, and she tripped over her own feet while trying to lunge for Jane.

The sound of her body hitting the dirt broke the spell, and a tall figure strode up to Cal before she could even stand.

“Who are you?”

King Caradoc’s temper was so famously rare that any hint of it was enough to silence a crowd. This is what happened now.

Cal pulled herself up, then instantly fell to one knee.

“I am Cal, Your Highness. I am a knight-in-training. I was told there was another girl who was training to be a knight here, at this castle, and I came to see her and learn more. I was let in and introduced to her by the gracious Princess Lavinia.”

“Lavinia! What have I told you about strangers!” The queen chided audibly.

“But she said she was a knight! We could always use more of those!”

“If I may interrupt, Your Majesties.” Cal still had not looked up from the ground. Sweat was dripping into the dirt. “I am not a knight yet. I came here to seek more training.”

There was a pregnant pause.

Finally, King Caradoc’s burning gaze swiveled not to his wife, or his knights, but to Jane.

“You sparred with the girl. Does she have the motivation, the potential?”

Jane mulled over their duel in her mind.

“Yes she does, Your Highness.”

“How long has she been here? A day?” Gunther said, rubbing his eye. His lack of sleep (or any stress-free moment) after the robbery had made it difficult to keep track of time.

“Less than that.” Rake said. He sounded almost in awe. “She’s already met with Sir Theodore, complimented Smithy’s weapons and Sir Ivon’s creations, eaten a hearty helping of Pepper’s cooking, and asked me half a dozen questions about plants. Then she goes back to talking about knighthood again.”

“She seems intent on making herself a celebrity.” Gunther muttered. “In my experience, people of that sort can never be trusted.”

“Gunther,” Rake said gently, unsure if he should say this. “In your experience, how many people of any sort can be trusted?”

Gunther was too tired to argue, so he kept his mouth shut and tried not to stare at Rake.

Cal had a lot of history to catch up on, both of the knighthood and in general, and Jane and Jester were more than happy to do so.

“And then it turned out the egg was a fake!”

“What? That’s awful! So what happened to the man? How much time did he spend in the dungeon? How badly was he whipped? Or was it something else?”

“It was none of those things,” Jane said sadly. “Dragon took care of all the punishing-”

“What?! No human punishment, not even a little bit, that’s not fair!”

“It’s not, but the world is not a fair place.”

“Tell me about it,” Cal said emphatically.

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“You know, we all have to really fight for where we are in life. Everything we get is earned somehow. Like you! You had to save a prince to even be considered to be a knight! What else did you have to do?”

“That was mostly it. My family has court connections, and the dragon thing truly solidified my potential.”

“Was it hard? Getting the prince back.”

“Extremely. I had to go up the mountain all by myself with nothing but a small sword and my wits.”

“Whoa. You’re lucky.”

“Yes, I am.”

Cal joined everyone in the hall for dinner, but Jane, oddly, was not hungry. She found herself walking the corridors next to Sir Theodore.

“What do you truly think of Cal?” He asked her abruptly. Jane noticed he was looking around as if to make sure they were alone.

“I like her. She is as passionate as I am.”

“And what do you think of the girl’s swordfighting?” Sir Theodore asked.

“She still has a long way to go, but the potential is certainly there. With enough time and training, she will be a menace on the battlefield.”

Sir Theodore knew Jane well, and he could see, clear as day, that she was holding something back.

“What is bothering you?” he asked gently.

“She will be a competent knight. But I do not know who she will serve. In all our conversations, she has mentioned no king, queen, or lord, or even home kingdom. I plan on asking her, but the fact that it has not come up naturally in conversation is so unusual it borders on concerning.”

Sir Theodore did indeed look mildly concerned, but said nothing and simply nodded.

“Jane?” He said after a long pause.

“Yes, sir?”

“When you ask her…bring your sword with you.”

Jane found her chatting with Jester next to the fire, both of them sharing a plate of baked apples.

“Are you enjoying your time in Kippernia so far?” Jane asked.

“Oh yes, it’s very nice here. Nice food, nice people, nice competition,” she flashed Jane a teasing smile.

“I do not see you as competition, Cal.” Jane sat down next to them both. “I see you as a fellow knight in training, just as dedicated as I am to the code of chivalry and serving our leaders.”

The other girl nodded as Jane continued.

“Who are the leaders that you serve?” Jane asked as calmly and casually as she could.

“Well, I don’t serve them yet, seeing as I am not a fully fledged knight yet, but I will, when I’m older.”

“Who do you plan on serving, then?”

“You know, the royal family.”

“The royal family?”

“Yes, the same as you.”

Jane tried not to let her confusion show. “You are from Kippernia, then?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not mention it?”

“It never came up in conversation. I assumed you knew.”

“Cal, if you are from Kippernia, why did you not tell me you lived here when I asked if you liked it here? It would have been easy enough to say so mere moments ago.”

“Well, one can think their homeland is a nice place, can’t they?”

“Cal.” Jane said, a little more sternly. “Do you know what the code of chivalry says about lying?”

“It says in- it says that it’s bad and that you should not lie.” She said, looking Jane in the eyes for the first time.

Jester, eyes wide, silently got up and walked a short distance away- far enough away to be safe from any stray blows, but close enough to intervene rapidly if need be. Jane noticed Smithy had also assumed a similar position.

It won’t come to that. I can fight her on my own, if she resorts to violence. Jane’s hand subconsciously moved to the hilt of her sword. I do not want to fight her, but I do not know what she wants.

“Yes. Clearly, Cal, you know the code of chivalry. So why are you lying to a fellow knight in training?”

“I am not lying to you.” The girl said firmly. “I just never told you who I served.”

“And why did you not tell me?”

“I assumed you knew.” she repeated.

“Cal, please. You are the first fellow female warrior I have ever met. I want to be able to trust you.”

Cal blinked slowly. “How about we finish this conversation outside?”

The sun had rapidly retreated beyond the horizon, leaving the world gray and dark. Jane’s torch functioned as a miniature sun, throwing bright light onto Cal’s face.

“Cal, I understand how badly you want to be a knight. You deserve to be one just as much as I do-”

Jane had once seen a barrel the merchant was transporting fall off of the cart and break. Inside, its contents had rotted, so when the wood of the barrel split, it exposed thousands of writhing maggots.

Cal’s expression did that now, her mask of calm breaking to expose a sudden and almost violent fury.

“Of course you think you deserve knighthood.”

“Excuse me?” Jane pulled back, scowling.

“You, with your father who works for the king. Of course this makes you think that this automatically makes you worthy of knighthood.”

“I never said- I don’t- I am worthy of knighthood because I trained to earn it.”

“Yeah, trained under the guidance of an old man and a dragon. A dragon! After that stunt you pulled all those years ago, knighthood just fell into your damn lap! Some of us have had to fight to get where we are.” She advanced towards Jane, forcing Jane to press her back against the wall. Cal put a hand on the wall behind her, brown eyes boring into Jane’s. “You, you’ve never had to fight for anything. You’ll never understand. You’ll never have the spine to work for what you really deserve.”

Jane fought to keep her breathing even, but it was hard when her vision was blazing red.

“What makes you think you deserve to be a knight more than I do? How have you struggled more?”

A tiny, prideful smile curled Cal’s lips. “Where you knew in your bones you wanted to be a knight, I was chosen. Chosen by a knight who saw that I had what it truly took.”

“What-”

Cal continued. “My family was gone. All I had was the street and my fellow urchins, and even they left me after a botched robbery. I was alone, covered in filth, in a ditch. Then he approached me. I thought he was going to hurt me, so I mustered what strength I had left. I bit and kicked and screamed and swung, and by the time it was all over, he was on his knees in front of me. I’d ripped the dagger from his belt and pressed it to his throat. I was going to make him beg for his life, but instead of pleading he said ‘you’d make one hell of a knight.’”

“Odd thing to say, right? So I did not trust him. But he was telling the truth. He took me to his home. Showed me his armor, told me all about how he’d been a knight of Kippernia. Showed me everything he knew. Introduced me to his knight friends too.”

“One day he told me it was time. That’s what he told me, that it was time.” Cal’s smile grew wider.

“Who told you this? Who is he?”

“A knight is never supposed to divulge secrets, not even when being tortured.” Cal said.

She’s the one torturing me!

“He sent me here. Here to claim what was rightfully mine. You know Jane, I was really looking forward to fighting side by side with you. I still am.” Cal’s shoulders were heaving less, her smile was getting a little smaller. “So if we can just forgive each other and move on, we can still be the two first female knights in Kippernian history! How does that sound?”

Jane was too stunned to speak.

“Of course, you’ll still probably be the first, since you got a head start in terms of training. So I’ll let you be the first. I’ll be the second female knight in Kippernian history. That still has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” Jane finally said hesitantly. “But Cal, there’s still so much about your story that doesn’t make sense-”

“It’s the truth!”

“I wholeheartedly believe it is the truth. But it doesn’t make sense. Who is the man who trained you?”

“Why doesn’t it make sense that he trained me? He saw potential and he took it.”

“Cal, street orphans don’t get to be knights!”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how it works! Knights come from rich families! They need connections!”

“Well, I might not be the first female knight in Kippernian history, but I can become the first street orphan to become a knight! I already have connections, didn’t you hear? I’ve met knights, fought with them, you said yourself I had what it took!”

“You do! But you don’t have the money! Unless-is your mentor paying for this?”

“Yeah.”

“Your clothes, your sword, he’s paying for everything?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat. Cal squirmed under Jane’s gaze, just a little.

“He has help, but yes, he’s paying for it.”

Cal’s hand had fallen to rest on her hip. Tensely, as if she was afraid Jane would reach for something there and grab it.

The realization hit Jane like a lightning bolt.

“What’s in your pocket, Cal?”

“Coins.”

“Are they your coins?”

“Of course they’re mine, who else’s would they be?”

“You robbed the Breeches, didn’t you?”

“What?!”

“I’m sure it must have been a difficult job, even for an experienced thief such as yourself. It must have taken a lot of hard work and skill.”

There was a flash of pride in Cal’s eyes. Lord, this girl was never going to survive being captured by enemies if she cracked under Jane’s interrogations.

The pride in her eyes turned smug. “You’ll never be able to prove it, by the way. I already sold the stuff for a hefty price.”

“Well, the merchant will probably buy it back, and then pay to have you punished heartily.”

“Jane, you’re making me feel bad for ruining your innocence. The black market in this kingdom is thriving. The merchant’s never seeing any of that stuff ever again. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Kippernia’s so tiny and isolated that this is the place where plenty of people go to never be seen again themselves. I recognized at least six wanted criminals in your town square alone. They’re hiding out here, trying to start over. Or not. Depends.”

Jane swallowed the bile rising in her throat. This girl does nothing but lie.

“I’m taking you to Sir Theodore.”

“All right.” Cal said far too casually. She allowed herself to be marched to Sir Theodore’s study, where she repeated her story to him. When Jane flashed her a barely hidden glare, she sighed and included the bit about the wanted criminals and stealing from the Breech family.

Sir Theodore was staring at her with an expression of shock Jane rarely saw.

“You have been duped.” He said slowly and firmly. “You deserve to go off freely, but I cannot turn a blind eye to thievery.” He stood. “Come with me.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“The dungeons.”

She sighed and bowed her head, her mouth in a firm line, stonily accepting her fate.

Just before the two of them could leave the room, there was a knock at the door.

“Not now, please.” Sir Theodore called.

“I am sorry, but it is rather urgent, sir.” Gunther said hurriedly from the other side of the door. “There is-some people are here to see you. They say they are sorry for interrupting, but their ship docked early and they thought it best to come right away.”

“Please tell them to wait.”

Gunther sounded as if he was going to say something else, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice.

“Theodore, are you in there?”

Theodore’s eyes bulged, but he forced himself to appear calm. He shot a look at Cal, who looked as incredulous as he did.

“Yes, go ahead and come in.”

A young man walked in.

“Ah, Theodore- it is good to see you! And I see Cal has introduced herself as well! Has she impressed you with her swordfighting skills yet? She trained very hard to reach where she is now.” The man said affectionately.

“Yes,” Sir Theodore said slowly. “I see you trained her well.”

“He certainly did.” Cal said, still looking at the floor and visibly trying not to smile.

“Why are you hanging your head so? Did you miss me?”

“Yes.” She said.

“I missed you too. Come here and give me a hug.”

Cal ran to the man, embracing him tightly.

“I missed you, Haroldus.”

#my writing #no beta we die like men #i really love this one #and I stayed up way too late writing it #so here you go #any errors are my own #jatd dragonblade #dragonblade jatd

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harrison-abbott · 2 years

Text

THE UNCONVINCED EYES

I climbed the wall. Atop it was a gleaming bar of frost. My fingers made patterns in the crystals; the kinds of shapes I would’ve liked better if I was still a child. I perched on the wall’s top and analysed the building. There were no lights through the windows. In the garden there were little tricycles and balls scattered about, and on the building’s wall was the lettering STRAWBERRY HILL NURSERY. I jumped off the wall, landing softly on the grass. The strands were brilliantly silver and crunched under my boots; I’d long stopped shivering: had just gone accustomed to the temperature. The stars were amazed and mindlessly gaping in pixie dots in the sky. The gates had been locked from the front. I checked the front windows and it looked like nobody had gotten in from there. I went around the back of the garden. One of the back windows had been smashed out. Glass all over the floor. I panicked. And immediately sought to retreat. In case somebody was inside … But, I’d been silent thus far. I scanned the windows from this side and there was no illumination. At the back of the garden I waited, squatting in the growth. I gave it half an hour and there was no movement, nothing. So I approached the broken window and climbed through. The air didn’t change much when I did so, was only a little subdued. I turned the torch on. Vapours twirled about the beam’s blade. “Hello?” I called. The voice was ominous, hard, stark, in this big house. I was in a grand living room type space, also filled with toys and colourful stuff, kids’ stuff, and it made me queasy to be here. (I never even went to nursery myself.) “Anyone in here? I’m a civilian.” There was only the small dying and then dead echo of my voice. I moved over the toys on the floor towards a new door, bearing the torch forward. Came to this atrium, where there was a grand staircase and these other rooms. There was nothing else broken in the atmosphere; nothing like the crashed window. There was a reception desk and all of the keys were hung on nails on the board above it. A telephone and computer which weren’t blinking. There was one other room which had the title SLEEPING POD on it in rainbow lettering. And when I peeked inside there were these rays of tot beds in long rows. I shut the door. And went upstairs. It must’ve belonged to some upper-rich family, two centuries back: considering the style of the house. I wondered what they would’ve thought if they would’ve seen me, in here, right now … an intruder, a stranger. I got to this new room which was stuffed with further children’s stuff. All I needed was a place to sleep, for a few hours, before dawn. Which would be here soon. I couldn’t sleep anywhere near infantile items. So I thought I should just use the corridor floor instead. Where there were only carpets. I took my jacket off, and put it over me. Out of my bag I took the bottle of water, the handgun, and bottle of gin out. I took a swipe of the gin. The water bottle was running low for just now so I left it. Another few glugs of the gin. Then laid the handgun by them, close to my head. Then turned the torch off. Was fairly sure I was safe in this house, and I would be on my way in the morning. I did have food and that helps anybody sleep but I had to ration the cans I had as well. Plus, the instant I lay down I was too tired to get back up again. Clamped down. Was lucky to have a good coat. My brain slipped into that inter-land of consciousness and dreams. For weeks I would rather belong to the latter, and stay there forever, no matter how mad they became in content.

BANG.

CRACKLE.

I woke up. Where was I? A house … It was still dark. I lay on a floor.

There was another bang from downstairs. I flinched. Somebody was definitely in this house with me. Yes – that was it, I’d broken in.

I got up and put my coat on. I took the bottles and put them in my bag and I equipped the handgun, and all the blood charged up my body and into my head. And listened.

Watching the stairwell at the end of the corridor I listened for any other cues.

A light appeared. An orange light, wavering, steadily making more brazen shadows on the walls.

I took my torch out of the coat pocket. And, with that in one hand and the gun in the other, crept towards the edge of the stairwell.

Shuffling, muffled, awkward noises. It was firelight. For sure. I edged to the banisters atop the well and looked down. And there was a person. Moving slow. Holding an opened lighter. I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female. But they were obviously weak. Despite that, I still had to be wary. I gulped. Gulping, and my heart yammered.

The person started to walk up the stairs on the below floor, holding the flame out before his or her face.

I stepped up. And pinged the torch light on. And ran a few steps down the stairs.

I stung the torch on the person. It was a man. Old: older than I was. Who screamed. And dropped his lighter, and that item went spinning away and now it was only the nasty torchlight.

He tried to flee. Back down the stairs. And tripped, and landed on his front. I ran down to the halfway point in the well and kept the torch on him. He sat upright and whimpered and held his hands up. I held the handgun on him.

“Please, don’t,” he said.

“Who are you?” I called.

“Nobody.”

“Why you here?”

“Just looking for shelter, is all. I can go. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It’s fine. You a civilian?”

“Yes!”

“I am as well. It’s okay – I was just checking.”

I took the torch off of him and shone it on me instead. And the light was horrible. And I felt bad for doing that to him. But then I couldn’t see anything so I aimed the torch downwards, and put the handgun in my inside pocket. And this man twitched there at the bottom of the stairs, me above him. I was ashamed.

“Honestly,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. It’s just that we can’t trust strangers, right?”

He nodded.

“Where’d your lighter go?”

“Huh?”

“Your lighter – you dropped it.”

I shone the torch on the floor around him so he could locate it. And at the same time I came down closer to him. He was still on the ground. There was this lighter, shining. He heaved across for it. Just by his movement I knew that he was injured in some way. He put the lighter in his pocket. Was still afraid of me.

“Come on, man,” I said, holding down an open palm, “let me help you up.”

He clasped my hand and he was featherweight to lift up. And I held him as he stood and swayed. He was maybe twenty five years older than me. I was 30. His forehead was grubby, sweaty, and his eyes were all dazed. He looked like he was going to fall over again, so I said,

“Here – looks like you need some rest. There are some beds this way.”

I helped him over to the kid’s tot-bed room. Where there were all these eerily dormant beds. The man wheezed; he was delirious and dusty to the touch. I lowered him onto the floor versus the wall. And then gathered some of the pillows from the beds. (There were no blankets but there were some pillows leftover.) And I put them out on the floor for the man. He lay on them. I put the torch against the wall, angling it in such a way as you would a lamp, so we had some overall light.

“What’s your name?” I said to him.

“Bill.”

“Nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Louis.”

“Good to meet you.”

“Are you hurt? Injured, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

As an answer, he lifted a flab of his coat off, and then, with great strife, lifted his shirt up. There was a black-red bandage on his lower back, below his ribs and above his kidney. I swallowed.

“Were you shot?” I said.

“Stabbed.”

“By which side?”

“Neither. It was a random man. A crazy man. We were in a store. Fighting over food. He tried to grab a basket off of me. I wouldn’t let him. So he stabbed me. And then ran away with the basket.”

“When did that happen?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“Who bandaged you up?”

“Me. I got some bandages from another store. But I can’t reach it so well.”

I didn’t know how to form a next sentence and then both of us were silent for some time.

“Sorry for scaring you earlier, Bill.”

“No problem.”

He put his shirt and coat flaps back down.

“I have some food,” I said. “You want some?”

“You do?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

I went into my bag and fished one of the cans out. It was baked beans. I opened it.

“I’m afraid I’ve got no cutlery,” I said.

“Thanks a lot.”

He opened it and wolfed into it. I opened one of the other cans too … the beans were mushy and glorious and heady and calorific.

“You want a drink as well?” I said. Offering the gin. His eyes flashed at the sight.

“I used to have a problem with all of that,” he said, and then he took the bottle. “But, what does it matter now?”

He swigged and he winced.

“I couldn’t get out of the city when the bombs hit,” Bill said, “and I had to hide in my apartment for days. What’s your story?”

“I’m trying to get out, too. Have tried the north, to go that way. But the soldiers are too heavy there. So I turned to the east, and met the other side there. They shot at me. Now I’m here and I’m gonna try the south this time. You can come with me if you like?”

“Thank you, Louis.”

He passed me the gin and I drank some and gave it back to him.

“How old are you, Louis?”

“I’m 30. You?”

“65. I gave up alcohol about twenty years back. Now that I think of it: I don’t think that ever helped me out much. The world just got worse all around me in those two decades. Who cares about a nobody like me?”

“I care, man. I can help you out. You can come south with me.”

“There aren’t many people like you, though. … What’s with your face, Louis?”

“Sorry?”

“There’s a mark on your forehead, above the eyebrow.”

“Ah yeah. That incident with the soldiers. When I was running away. I fell. Banged my head. It was probably lucky … that I fell, when I did. Because this shower of fire went over me. Then I pretended I was hit and lay under the rubble. They stopped. I ran. They shot after me, but missed.”

“I’m glad you’re still alive. World needs angels. Even if there are few angels. Maybe you aren’t one. A good man. But you seem like it.”

“Thanks, Bill. You want something else to eat?”

“No, thank you though. My stomach’s all filled up.”

“You want to rest? We should move out by dawn. But, if you want to rest a bit longer then that’s fine with me too?”

“Dawn sounds good, my man.”

“Right. I will be sleeping out in the hall.”

“Okay.”

“Night night for now.”

“Hey, Louis. Thanks again.”

I left him in the kids’ room. And went out into the atrium and I lay on the floor. It was a long while trying to head to sleep and I kept taking nips of the gin to aid me off there. Nor could I enter that weird between-planet where dreams are suggested. I heard Bill’s snoring from the other room. It wasn’t really snoring – only the humble breathing of an older man’s sleeping head. In the outer dark I could sense the high ceiling above me, far away; this long credible hard surface which was my roof for the terminal night.

I awoke to a whispery feeling on my face. I feared it might be a spider. When I wiped my cheeks nothing came off in my hands. I stood up. There was a stronger-than-hoped for light outside the nursery windows: I’d slept in past dawn. This was a bit risky. I drank some of the water, which really was running low. It’d been out all night and the chill ran down my gullet. Into Bill’s room with the tiny beds. He had his back to the wall and was still. “Hey, Bill?” I whispered. “We gotta get up now and get going south.” It was mean to wake him but needed being done. He didn’t stir. I moved closer to him, and bent to see if his shoulders were moving. His coat was sprawled over him and I could only see a slither of his face. “Bill? It’s me, Louis. We have to get up now and continue heading south. Want some breakfast?” His face was grey. Lips open. I touched his shoulder and shoogled it a bit. There was no break in him. I said his name three times and shook him a bit more. “I’m sorry, my friend,” I said. “That I couldn’t do more for you medically.” I lifted his coat up above his face; it was so babyish, pathetic. There was a raw, guttural anger in me for whomever stabbed this man. “You’re probably on your way to Heaven, at least,” I said to his body. “Somewhere better than here.” I closed the door behind me, leaving him in there. Then this immediate urge to get free of this nursery overwhelmed me. And within minutes I was all kitted up and climbing back through the open window at the back. Then back up the wall and into the street. It was all in blue and pink. And the sky comfortingly clear and bright. I took a slug of the gin. South was this way. I knew. So I continued … Unto an area of plush houses. Middle class district, I mean. Ghosttown suburbs. And along the way I could see that some of them had been looted. One had his front door hanging open. Another had its garage door all blackened out. But I always thought these suburbs were sterile and empty, even without a war on. When I was in school (a long, long time ago) there was a much-similar district which I’d walk through to get to the schoolbuilding on the mornings. It looked like this one. The only thing which was different was that there were no cars in the driveways. They’d all fled. … Within the air I smelled burning petrol. Only the hangovers of – not fresh. But I needed to be alert. I walked out of the neighbourhood without any movement save the bare rowan trees flickering in the wind. Past that, I came to a narrow path, and when out of it arrived on a small woodland. A woody trail. There was a four way arrow sign. I recognised one of the names. And headed that way. Along the trail. Nice woodland. Lots of amber leaves and birch boughs. The types of images to help you forget. The land arose steeply. And when I got to the top of the hill I heard the sound of water. The path dallied down the other side of the valley, and soon enough the path led me to a rolling brown river. There was a bridge over that. Before the bridge I stole down to the bankside and inspected the water. It was obviously an urban river. But if I boiled some of it up then I could kill off the toxins within and it would be drinkable? My bottle was almost done and I had another day ahead of me. It was worth a shot. I had a pot in my bag. … So I let by bag down. And fashioned a ring of rocks on the bankside. I already had some newspaper in my bag, too. (Papers from weeks ago, with these stark ominous headlines, all these warning words in capitals.) I scrunched up the papers and made fodder bobbles with them. Then went up the bank and pilfered some of the dead bracken and fallen birch twigs and brought them back to the rock halo. I had matches with me. And I lit one and held it under the paper bobbles. They curled and sparked and caught up with the dark twigs above them. And soon I had a fire on me. With me. I warmed the hands. The lush scent of woodsmoke was native and fond to me. The little pot in my bag – I took it over to the river and I scooped up a heft of water in it. Then looked at it, to check for bits … to see if it was clean. It just looked like water. Then I brought that back over to the fire. And arrested the pot by the rocks, over the flames. Got a decent slant on it. And I watched the water at the bottom of the metal, until it began to bubble. These spritely balls, forming and pinging up to the surface. And I watched the resurgence of the rest of the water coming up to the boil with relish … And then I saw this shape descend down the river towards me. From afar. This lurking shape. I stopped and stood up and I sensed the handgun in my inner pocket. The shape flowed down the current towards me. What was it? It was black and lumpy. Without quite realising it I took the handgun out and trained it on the object, and backed away on the bankside. It came closer and closer. Was no animate thing. It was a dead dog. A canine that no longer lived. Muzzle-up, it rampaged down the current, past me. How did it even get in the river? How did it die? Shouldn’t call it ‘it’: it was a he or she and somebody’s pet: it had a collar on it. Then the dog just disappeared around the bend in the river beyond the bridge. I put the gun away. … I went back to the fire and took the pot off of it. All the bubbly violent water. I threw the pot into the water. It sizzled briefly on the current and then turned into zilch. I touched the bottom of the pot against the river to cool it down. Then I sat on the bank and drank some more of the gin instead of the water that I really needed now to spare. I judged that it would take me another day to get to the southern border. If I really tried walking it. That was doable. I snuffed the fire out with my boots. Shame, because it was a nice little affair. I got back up from the bankside. And headed across the bridge.

There were further suburban areas. Which thinned out as I ventured; the housing getting more spacious and fancy across the hours. And then I found the motorway. Which is what I was looking for. A motorway, rather. I looked on the roadway sign and found the M digit I was after: this road would lead me there. … And so then I was in a landscape of fields all around me. All in splendid wintery sunshine. And the cemented roads motionless as fair paintings, grey streaks versus the ginger squares of the land.

It was worrying me that my gin was running out too. I glugged on that. Was quite dazed. It was around lunchtime, by my gathering: but what did Time matter anymore? What did Time honestly mean? Fuck it.

There was a noise behind me. Racy switch-on echoes. I tied the bottle up and put it in my coat again and turned around. This volcanic thundercloud emerged from the end of the motorway. I stood there for way too long. Just watching. Because I’d forgotten that I was in a different world.

A jeep raced towards me. An army jeep. In ultra green … it flushed down the road and I now no longer had the chance to bail to the side of the road. They’d already seen me. So what I did was simply continue walking. Turned my head, hoping that they wouldn’t stop and check me.

The volume of the vehicle crescendoed. And then diminuendoed. And I knew they’d seen me … that they weren’t going to drive on. The coward that I was: I just kept walking, ears a-prickle. The handgun was heavy in my inner pocket. I’d never technically used it before. I didn’t know if this would be my last chapter in life. What the soldiers would do to me. But even with the gnarly glug of the army jeep behind me, I was too cowardly to turn around.

Until they honked at me.

I jumped, cartoonishly.

And this was met with a manly laughter.

I looked around and there were two men through the windshield; could see the white scapes of their teeth, hahaha. They turned the ignition off.

This is bad. I thought. This is bad. And then I thought about making a belt for it. But I believed in a good nature of common men. Some crap like that.

“How are you doing, sir?” one of the soldiers called, stepping out of his jeep. He was the driver. He had a prominent moustache.

“I’m good, sir,” I said. “You?”

“Just fine. Fine indeed.”

“Where you off to?”

“Just walking, is all.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I’m heading south. Just on my own. Not a threat to anybody.”

“Ho. I see.”

The other soldier was very small. He had an assault rifle carried across his waist. As he got out of the jeep I noticed that he stumbled. And his eyelids were depressed. He looked at me with boyish curiosity. Was proud of his gun. He went around the side of the bonnet and then sat on the edge of it.

“What’s your name?” he called.

“Louis,” I said.

“Louis what?”

“Louis Dykes. I’m just a civilian. Heading on my way. Not affiliated with any side.”

“Ha ha ha!” the proud gunman called. “That will save you for sure.”

This man then took his weapon off of his body and set it on the bonnet. Then he nipped over to the other side of the road. Unbuckled his trousers. And began pissing.

The moustache man was drunk as well. I got that from his smell and his gait, as he waggled over to me, all confident with eye contact. Got up in my face.

“Where are you from?” his breath made my nose peel. But I disguised the wince.

“Here.”

“Where is here?” he looked around the fields and the motorway. There was a pistol in his belt. His mate was still pissing in the ditch.

“I’m just from the city, is all. I want to be on my way.”

I moved on from him too soon. He made to block me with his arm. I clashed into his arm. And then he grabbed me by my arm.

“I didn’t say you could go,” moustache man said.

“I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t care about the war. No threat to anybody, I swear.”

“Why do you say ‘threat’?”

“That’s what I’m not saying.”

“Are you a deserter?”

“No.”

“We’ve had whole dozens of men desert on us when they should be on the field. Men your age as well. How old are you?”

“What does that matter? I was never in the army. The answer is no.”

“I asked how old you are.”

“46.”

“Don’t be cheeky. If you’re cheeky I will muck you up.”

“I’m 30.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“How come you’ve got grey hair?”

“Unlucky, I guess. I drink too much.”

“You drink?”

“Yeah.”

“Got anything for us?”

“I’m gonna reach into my pocket, okay? I have some gin. If I give you my gin, will you leave me alone?”

“What you got?”

I went into my pocket and brought out this warm sweaty quarter full bottle of gin. And handed it across to the soldier. The soldier was all puffed up in uniform, all this glitzy gear on his chest. Urban camouflage, blue and grey. Why did he make so much effort to tend to his moustache?

He opened the bottle and sniffed at it.

“Why,” he said, “thanks so much, chum.” And then he turned to his friend the other side of the road. Who was buttoning up his waist. “Our chum has give us some of his gin!”

Moustache man then turned back to me. And he swung the bottle at my head. I ducked down, and he missed. And within the thrust, he lost hold of the bottle, and it went flying into the weeds by the roadside … I knelt. Moustache man saw me under him. And booted me in the head. Just kicked at me. It caught me in the cheek and I swerved to the side. Landed on my hip. Then tried to get up. He kicked me under in the stomach. Then I bashed into the bar at the roadside. Both sides of me were winded. Then he kicked me again just for fun.

“I think you’re a deserter,” he said.

“I am not.”

He aimed a kick for the front of my face. So I ducked down. He kicked me in the back of the skull instead.

His colleague laughed the other side of the road.

There were further boots in my back.

I began crying. Sobbing, in mock form. And I turned farther over to my left side. To let moustache man kick me further. He accepted the cue. As he pounded his colleague kept laughing.

Amidst the pounding I reached into my left pocket. And caught the grip of the handgun. And then I rolled to the side. And sprang my hand up with the gun. Aimed it at Moustache man’s face. Shot. This puff puffed out of the back of his head. And he fell backwards.

His colleague stopped guffawing. He was no longer drunk. He looked at his rifle on the bonnet. Then made a dash for it. I caught him in time and grabbed the rifle before he could get to it.

“Just stop,” I said. “Just stop!”

He kept running and so I shot him in the leg. He tripped over and collided with the floor.

“You shot my friend,” he said.

He was thin and birdlike, scrawny.

“I did. You were both going to kill me.”

“We were only playing.”

“You would have murdered me and left me on the road.”

I walked away from him.

“You just gonna leave me like this?”

“Why not?”

“I’m bleeding!”

“You were just about to murder me. Why should I help?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were laughing. I hate that poisonous sound.”

“You shot me in the artery. Look at the blood.”

“Bye bye.”

I yomped off. I emptied the cartridges from his assault rifle and tossed them off key unto the fields. Then, a mile down, and far past the view of the violent scene, I chucked the gun’s body into a river I passed.

As I walked along the motorway I thought about my history. Realised how worthless I was. In dips and arrows of black ink the crows sped across the sky; as I walked along the fields, they burst out of the trees, in these fabulous frenetic non-patterns of glee. And I wondered what it would be like to be a crow, to have a bird’s mind. To be able to fly. I wondered how incredible it would be to fly, over the lands. And mind you that birds are the only species that have outlived humans. We were never able to conquer them completely. (I say ‘we’ but I always hated farming. The mass annihilation of animals; mass painful murder. I walked all day. And there were still sheep and pigs and even horses on the fields. Where they glad that their mass slaughter was postponed? I couldn’t tell from how they looked whether they would’ve been executed already despite the war. I suppose that I never thought it so bad to kill an animal for food. Murder it in order to eat it. But, to raise it and make it suffer its whole life and then murder it, painfully, seemed a bit too much. I thought that when I was a kid and still think that way as an adult. I’d just shot two humans and killed one of them. Soldiers. Stupid boys. … I thought about going off road and ending it all. Why not? Who would care? I didn’t care myself. And this idea took hold of me now. So I did, take off the motorway, and this time it was pine forest. All glossy in evergreen. I went down through the pine trunks and I settled under one of them. The trunks, and I raised the pistol to my head. But I couldn’t pull it. Cowardice. I smelled the snap of the pines even in the winter air. And I thought it was worth it just to stay alive for the scent of that. Just to be able to breathe that in, it was worth going on for. … I ate another of the cans. Soup this time. The factory gloop dribbled down my chin and it tasted glorious and as I ate or swallowed I thought I am a murderer I am a murderer and there was nothing to doubt or question that. I no longer deserved the salty can of soup. I’d crossed myself forever. Was no longer a moral man. I would be Judged. Nightmares would plague me. Let them, I thought. Let the plague commence.

The motorway diverted and a new road popped up – the one I was after. It rose along a hillside filled with dense forest. A great flock of crows arched over the treetops and I heard their witchy cackling and whence at the top of the hill the road changed directions again. I looked down one way of the road, and there was nothing. The other way, when I look, I jumped. There were two people. In one of the bus shelters. This green bus shelter: two people huddled in there. I paused … One of them came out, of the shelter frame, and peered at me. By the build of the body I could tell it was a woman; and there was a smaller person inside, who she joined, which I guessed was a child. I had to go up to them because that was the way I was going. Had to meet them on the way, as it were. As I ventured I thought, I can’t think of them as mutual civilians, because I’m not one of those anymore. Both woman and child had gone silent on my approach. I stayed outside of the shelter when I greeted them. They had a fat load of bags with them. “Hello there,” I waved. Their skin colour was different from mine. “I’m a civilian as well. You’re all good?” Their eyes were big and the mother shieled what I assumed was her daughter behind her. “Are you just pausing here for a rest?” I said. “Or waiting on a ride?” … They didn’t respond. My face and my eyes have never quite been able to convince people. Other folks, whichever age, have always been dodgy with me. I have no trustworthy presence. “Are you hungry?” I said. I opened my bag and the woman rustled and I took out a can of peaches. And held it out to her. Her eyes (and the kid’s) instantly snapped on it. The unconvinced eyes: as if the offering were a trick, a threat. “I just want you to take it, if you’re needing to eat,” I said. By the reticence I kinda sussed what was up. “Oh, do you not speak English?” She shook her head. I guessed which language/creed she was and I said, in her tongue, from what I remembered, “Food, for you.” And she said, “Thanks,” back and took the can. She was squirming to eat it – the kid too – but didn’t want to eat it in front of me. “Be well, then,” both of you. I saluted them. And the child, to my amazement, saluted me back, a little flick from her forehead. Which was nice. … Off I went. The motorway descended, this time. I walked for a long time. I did think perhaps I should’ve persisted with that woman – in asking her if she was waiting on a bus. I’d heard of civilian volunteers who were running coaches, to take people out of the city. Snippets of stories like that. Perhaps it would’ve been worth it to try and see if she was waiting for one of those … and there were intermittent, other bus stops along the route too. But I walked for hours and no bus came by me, and, again, it was only me and the birds, the birds and I. … Until I came upon a petrol station. There were gulls around the bins: I watched it from afar. The leftover bins I mean: the gulls were tearing up the wreckage, and had even managed to knock one of them over, ripping into the contents inside. When I went up to the station, they sensed me irately. Mean, sadistic birds. They flapped six yards above my head and I wouldn’t be surprised if they divebombed me. They didn’t. … The store, of the station, was totally looted, ransacked. Looked like somebody had driven through the front windows, because all of this weedy glass yawned on the floor … hmm, and the front of the roof had buckled inwards. I went inside anyway, to the store, to see if there were any provisions worth scouting for. It smelled of chemicals inside. Deodorant-spray-esque chemicals. Most of the shelves were cleared of everything. There was one loaf of bread which had been crushed during the imagined scuffle, and when I looked closer, all of the slices had gone a turquoise colour. The alcohol and tobacco sections had both been stripped bare – but I did find one lighter on the floor under the shelves, which, when I tried the switch, still gave fire. So I pocketed that. And when I looked farther under the shelf, hopefully, I found a lone packet of cigarettes. I didn’t smoke. But maybe I could find somebody that did: might come in useful at a latter stage. Almost all of the food had been lifted. There was a bag of crisps, Salt and Vinegar flavour, with the packet burst and the chips strewn on the floor, and they were probably still edible. But I wasn’t that desperate. I did find, at the end of the rows, the newspaper/magazine section. Where there were quite a lot of magazines left. There were TV mags and celebrity mags and Golf mags, football, all of that shit. With these smiley pretty faces on the front covers. All these slogans from then when the world was still operational and not fucked up. I wondered if all of those faces were still alive. Whether they’d been attacked and killed like the rest of us. As if there were some automatic bunker for people that were famous. Meh. Maybe not. Why should I resent them? In the stationery part I found some gluesticks and paper and pens, scissors and post it notes. Was surprised that all of that had been left by the looters? I took a pair of scissors and a bundle of notepads. I wasn’t much of a hand writer – but maybe I could keep a diary. And, if I died, perhaps somebody would find it thirty years from now and it could turn into a glorious books. Silly thinking. But I put them in my bag anyway.

And then I heard a noise from outside the store. I was in a dark corner, of the store. I looked around the edge of the aisle. And, in front of the dashed windows, was parked a new army jeep. Four soldiers got out of it. I heard their hard manly voices ricochet across the car park, and in here. I swore. They proceeded to walk towards the store. I put my bag on. I couldn’t go out the front entrance. There was no proper place to hide within the store. How else could I get out? I looked farther down into the dark corridor. In the other corner, and there I thought I saw a FIRE EXIT sign. So I got up and scurried along. Yes, it was a FIRE EXIT. The light was bust, obviously. But I saw the letters in the gloom, and the door had a bar on it. The soldiers were just entering the building. I made a dash for the door. And I couldn’t see what was under my feet. And something knocked my shoes; I slipped, tumbled, and crashed. And wacked my chest. Clanged my ribs. And of course I made this terrific crash when I landed. Which was followed by a brazen silence. Wherein I waited for the soldiers, stupidly, hopefully not to notice. The seconds pounded by, clunk clunk clunk. “Somebody in here?” I heard one of the men call. I yomped up and plunged towards the EXIT door, bashed through the bar. And this pang of daylight struck me clear on in the face. I slammed the door behind me. Back inside, I thought I heard the pandemonium of the men running towards me. I was now in a fenced off courtyard. Barrels and chubby wastebins. I ran up to one of the wastebins, and jumped up on it. It was choked with bin bags. And I caught a few mouthfuls of the reek from within and I gagged. Jesus. But it gave me a lever up to the fence. … The soldiers bashed through the FIRE EXIT door. Mean faced and bloodthirsty, gun nozzles trained. They saw me. I jumped up onto the fence. It staggered on my weight. One of the troops took aim at me and fired. The bullets spackled on the wire squares, ripping them out. I fell. And landed on my back. Then I took out my handgun. Swivelled, and fired back at them, BOOM BOOM BOOM. Three shots. And I don’t think I hit any of them but they whizzed away and took cover, and this gave me some time. I saw some woodland. And dove for it. By woodland I mean a ray of trees. There was this mushy grass all clogged up with litter, thrown from the commuters over the years. Lord, it was barbaric. … The soldiers shot again. And this flurry of polystyrene and rank foliage burst up and went all over the calves of my jeans. I jumped into the trees. With a bit too much gusto … because I didn’t know there was a drop straight after. Which I rolled down uncontrollably. Wrestling with the undergrowth. It beat me. I stopped on a fallen tree with a land on my side. It winded me. But I wasn’t shot or dying, any time soon. I got up. How many times had I fallen over today? I dove down the hill. Keeping concentration on the balance. The trees were wise and pretty. And the ivy under them hypnotic, magical, with their emerald triangles. Slippery, too, and I slipped a jumble of times. And kept looking back. But I heard nothing from the soldiers. Only my own panicked breath. I stopped for a while, between a circle of holly bushes. I stayed in there. And waited, watching the upside of where I’d just come from. To see if they were following. My heartrate eased. From my bag I took out the diary. And I wrote down what’d just happened. On the first page, I wrote, ‘Got chased by four soldiers. They shot at me. Ran into the woods, and I escaped. I think?’ I’d actually forgotten what date it was. And my writing was so poor that I thought about tossing it away right then. But, I kept it. … Then I ventured onwards.

It began to rain. Quietly, then handsomely, then hard. And I put my hood up. Within a half hour I was drenched. This relentless, rampaging rain. I was stunned to be assailed by it. I stopped under a pine tree, and just sat there and let myself be drenched. The whole forest became this mirage of flashing vapour. I wasn’t Louis anymore. I was only a man under the rain. Under the Gods, the Orbit. Nothing else. And I checked the handgun chamber. To see how many bullets were still in it. Only two. Only needed one to kill me. What would I do with the other bullet? I held the gun out in my weak hand. And I aimed for a spot where there were no tree trunks in the direct line of vision, and I fired. The blast was mercurial, the sound dying quickly; the rain uncaring. I held the gun to my head and I wondered what it would do if I pulled. Would anybody even come looking for me, apart from maybe those goons? And, if they found me, they’d only be disappointed. … The rain stopped. There was this odd heat. Coupled with an emerging twilight. It was so cold that it was hot. I made my way through the woods. I was still going south. Even if I have few talents: one of them is a sense of direction. I was simply no master at making correct decisions. I thought that, if I’d had a different attitude throughout adolescence, if I’d cared more about other people in young adulthood, rather than only relying on myself, then I would not be in this situation right now. It was me versus nobody. I always saw it, in the past, as myself versus the planet – of people. And now I realised that people do not care. They focus on calories and lights, entertainment, chemicals, endorphins, the present day: what matters to them most within the now. Why was I any different? … There was a cut on my forehand. I didn’t notice it for a while. Must’ve happened when I was falling earlier. It bled quite feverishly. The blood was righteously crimson, mammalian, factual, complete. I had a sock in my bag. And I held the sock in it to stem the bleeding. It probably needed stitches. I thought about Bill, and how I wasn’t able to save him medically. I thought about my school days wherein I was bullied voraciously, primary and high school both. Thought about the jobs I’d gotten fired from. Of the girls I’d tried to date. I thought about the soldier I’d shot earlier – the image of that puff from the back of his head. Over and over. It’d been revolving in my mind. Some septic reel. … But what was the point in moaning? I regrouped; swapped my mentality back to blankness. Amongst the trees I saw a couple of squirrels, chasing each other. They bounded over the boughs with such majestic grace; ballet-like rather than gladiatorial. And I remember when I was in school the teacher was going around the kids asking what animal they would like to be. And all the other kids said cat and dog or lion or horse, and I said squirrel. And everybody laughed at me. I still remember the titanic gush of laughter, all of them. The teacher smirked as well. And I continued walking through the forest until the twilight lapsed unto dark. Until it got too dark to see ahead of me. So I took my torch out to avoid the tree trunks. Then my breath made these small clouds in the light, again. I played with them, blew them apart, made different contours. I was starting to giggle. Getting confident with the shapes. When the torch started to blink. Shuttering, the light blinking on and off. It went black and then came on again. And then it failed completely. I turned the button up and down. It didn’t work. I took the batteries out from the bottom of it. They were warm and fat in my palms. I put them back in the tube again, clucked it shut, and switched the ON button up again. It didn’t show.

Had to look for some new batteries tomorrow.

#novellete #creative writing #prose #fiction

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