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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Note

I’m so scared for the next update. Everything’s getting far too serious.

It is isn’t it. And I almost feel bad! But hey—you guys are reading it and I’m enjoying writing it so that’s all that matters. As always here the Masterlist for those not caught up!

Chapter Warnings: Domestic and Sexual abuse/violence. Illusion to forced sexual acts.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“What are you doing?” Jakes asking when he catches you leaning over the kitchen bench eating what looks to be cold ravioli. Dipping the singular pasta into the cold sun dried tomato sauce that sat cracked open next to the glass bowl of leftovers.

“I was too lazy to heat it up, thought I’d just snack on it like corn chips and salsa.”

“Bold move—“ Jake replied as he sauntered over, he’s noticed over the last few days that the bruising around your eyes had gone down. Almost invisible to the naked eye. The cut that ran across the expanse of your bottom lip had started to heal up nice and your smile—albeit slightly saddened, had started to make an appearance. “I think we had ravioli on Monday night—it’s Saturday Fe.”

“It passed the sniff test.” Is all you mumble back as Jake comes to stand beside you, he’s hovering. Has been since you showed up on his doorstep. “If you’re about to ask, it’s a no.”

“I think getting out will be good for you!” Jake’s been pushing the rhetoric on you for the last few days, he wanted you to meet his friends, genuine people who would welcome you with open arms. “Come on Y/n, you’ve been hiding out here for three weeks now, and Rooster is about to burst at the seams because I won’t let him mention that some strange woman he’s never seen before told him to fuck off when he was knocking the damn door down.” Jake smirks to himself when he sees you still. Right, you had done that hadn’t you.

“I should really apologise for doing that, he probably thinks I’m some kind of bitch—“ Jake snorts through his nose when he takes a cold piece of ravioli that’s dipped in sun dried tomato sauce to his mouth.

“You are and can, tomorrow—” Jake grins. “We’re all having lunch at the Hard Deck and I really want everyone to meet the woman who’s gonna be servicing their aircraft and fixing their gear in two weeks time.” You don’t say anything, you simply play with the single piece of pasta you're holding between your fingertips.

“What about Dot?”

“What about her?” Jake questioned back as he bumps your hip with his. “You’re gonna bring her and you're gonna watch as she steals the hearts of seven Naval Aviators.”

Which is exactly what happened. Jakes ushering you through the front doors with Dot on his hip. He looks the part of your everyday run of the mill dad that’s just finished wrangling the two year old on his hip after she’d decided that the toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom was more valuable than her stuffed echidna toy he’d left her with for five minutes.

“Who’s Hangman with?” Fanboy asks inquisitively as he taps Rooster on the shoulder. The second Bradley turns around to see who Mickeys referring to, Bradley Bradshaw forgets how to breathe. Its you, the girl whod told him to fuck off when he came to jakes door that one time. The girl Jake had gaslit Bradley into believing was a figment of his imagination. The girl who looked a lot prettier when she wasn't hiding behind a gaggle of bruises and cuts. Not that Bradley didn't think you were beautiful to begin with, he just liked to see you smiling instead of crying.

“Everyone.” Jake begins, he's smiling ear to ear while he's holding his niece who's locked eyes on the shyer than most weapons systems officer who's wearing big googly glasses that make her smile as bright as ever. “I want you all to meet my sister Y/n and her beautiful daughter Odette, but we just call her Dot.”

“Hi–” You say wave. “It's uh, nice to meet you all, I've heard alot about you all.”

“And yet we’ve never heard about you?” Payback turns his attention to Jake who says he’ll explain. But you've moved onto something else.

“You know ASL?” You barely register what you're saying as you watch Bob sign to Odette who's trying to copy the aviator's hand movements. He was just trying to grab her attention. He didn't think anyone else knew.

“Uh–Yeah, a little, I was just saying hello.” It's almost as if he was stunned you knew what he was doing. “You know it too?” Bob asked in return, he watches the way you reach out for your daughter and doesn't miss the slight discoloration he catches on your stomach when your shirt lifts up slightly.

“I picked up a little here and there.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Jaidyn, you–you need to leave–” There's a camera in the corner of your workshop, the little red light usually blinks on and off every few seconds. It lets you know that you're not alone. You've never had an issue before where the higher ups have had to go and comb through countless hours of footage, Bradley never really paid much mind to the camera either whenever he’d get a little lovey dovey–but there's something far too concerning about your current situation.

The little blinking red light that's usually there every three or four seconds, wasn't blinking.

“ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!” Jaidyn barked at you, the way he pushed you back against the wall a little harder as his hand came up to wrap around your throat had you crying. Warm tears escaped for your bottom lash line as you gasped for air under the tight pressure Jaiydn applied around your throat. You reached for his hand, trying to claw it open but all he did was choke you harder. “You know, it would be so easy for me to just–” He doesn't say it, but you know what he means when you feel the sting of a knife’s tip press into your side slowly and through your work uniform. “But this is just so much fun baby.”

You cough and splatter and gasp for air when Jaidyn drops his hand from around your throat, only for him to cup his palm over your mouth–he knows you would have cried out for help if given the chance. His not dumb, if anything Jaidyn Dolan was an incredibly intelligent man. It's one of the things that made you fall in love with him to begin with, his incredible mind. His passion for aviation and aerodynamics. A gifted mind when it came to all things mathematical and science based. You wondered if any of the women he’d dated before you had been lucky enough to not have to experience this side of him. Maybe it was just you, but whenever you caught yourself wandering about that, you fell into a dangerous cycle of blaming yourself for his actions.

Still very much believing it was you that was the problem, that you were the reason Jaidyn Dolan was an abuser. A champion chameleon. He had just about everyone fooled that he was a great guy.

“This is what's gonna happen sweetheart.” Jaidyn hissed through gritted teeth against your ear as he pressed himself against you. “You’re gonna do as you’re told and if you don’t, so help me god I will fuck that cunt of a boyfriend you’re parading around with up so much he’ll beg me to kill him.” You felt your heart drop into your stomach as Jaidyn removed his hand from around your mouth, only to press the blade of his knife against your neck, with so much intent behind his actions that you felt the blade break the supple and sensitive skin of your neck.

“Jaidyn–Pl–Please.”

“And if that doesn't make you nervous, watch me take that little girl you were so fucking hell bent on keeping and ill make sure you never see you again.” You don't know what to do, so you just cry. Nodding in response silently as Jaidyn pulls the knife away from your throat and steps back. He’s trusting you not to run. You wouldn't be so stupid, not after he just threatened Odette, threatened Bradley.

You stand before him shaking, quivering with fear as your heart races and your lungs feel like they're on fire. He points the knife at you with his arm outstretched and a smile so maniacal it makes you want to throw up.

“So, strip for me darlin–before I change my mind.”

***~***~****~***~***~***~***~**

Amelia Fisher was still shaking with fear as she walked up to the front desk of the North Island police station. Without so much as saying anything, she slid her phone across the counter to the man sitting at the front desk, a video playing of two men having an altercation in the car park of the Day Care centre she had just dropped her nephew off at.

“Ma’am—?” The police officer sitting before her questioned her actions.

“You guys just arrested the blonde one in this video.” She pointed out, her finger visibly shaking as he pointed Jake Seresin out to the office who just raised his brow. “But this guy was the one who provoked him, he had a knife that you can clearly see in his hand here and he was the one that should have been arrested.” She’d been in her car, enjoying the coffee she’d made at home in a rush to get out the door when everything broke out before her very eyes. “I was just dropping my nephew off—“ Amilia went on to explain, rambling as she tried to steady her breathing.

The officer played the video on her phone three or four times over before he stood, gesturing for Amelia to meet him at the door just off to the side.

“I’ll need you to make a statement before we can let Mr. Seresin leave.” He explains, sitting with a groan as if he was annoyed about doing his job. “And the video will need to be submitted into official evidence.”

“Uh, sure—yeah that’s not a problem.” She hugged herself tight as she took a seat promptly, spilling her guts about everything she’d witnessed happen in the carpark of the SunnySide day care centre.

“Come on Rooster—pick up you stupid flightless bird you.” Jake’s grumbling to himself when he pushes through the front doors of the police station, jotting down the stairs that Amilia Fisher had been pacing up and down for the better half of half an hour, just waiting for the man she’d watched nearly become a shish kabob in the carpark of SunnySide to come through the doors. “Dammit Bradshaw!”

Jake sighs as he comes to a halt, looking up as he brings his phone down from his ear and hits hangup when Rooster doesn’t answer his damn phone. Catching a woman’s attention as she’s pacing back and forth like a crazy person, mumbling to herself as she chews her nail beds into oblivion.

“Are you Amilia?” Jake asks. He’s still unsure of why someone he didn’t know would turn in vital evidence that may have very well saved his sorry ass.

“Oh! Yes! Yes, that's me!” Amilias beaming back at Jake when she realises he’s out and looking at her, running up to meet him halfway up the stairs of the police station. Nearly tripping over her own feet as she does. “I’m Amilia, Amilia Fisher—“

Jakes flawed. He’s never really been one to be stunned into silence but as Amilia sticks her hand out to introduce herself, Jake Seresin thinks he’s having a heart attack. Because Amilia is gorgeous.

“You’re the one who just gave a statement, got me off the hook?” Jake asked as he takes Amilias hand in his softly, shaking it a few times before letting her go. Watching as she goes back to picking at her cuticles in an attempt to settle her nerves.

“I was just sitting in my car, and saw the whole thing, I didn’t know what else to do so I just started recording—“ There’s a moment of silence when Jake doesn’t know what to say and Amilia doesn’t know how to speak. So they just stand there, looking at each other awkwardly and in complete silence until Jake smiles. “Thought it might help, you know.”

“You know you probably just saved my life right?” Jakes not kidding, he knew damn well without any evidence he could have been convicted of a felony which would have meant the end of his career. Which would subsequently ruin his life. “And you probably don’t even know it, do you?” Jake wasn’t trying to be ominous, but he thought Amilia was awfully pretty. If she didn’t know how much of an impact she had on the trajectory of Jake Seresins life just by one selfless decision she made? He thought there was a possible chance she could have been worth getting to know, what other selfless acts had she done?

“I just didn’t think it was fair that that guy, whoever he is to you, got away after provoking you like that.” Amilia admitted her truth to Jake as she walked with him side by side down the stairs. “He looked pretty off his rocker.” Huh, that was a new one? Come to think of it, there was an accent there too, Jake just couldn’t pick it. Not in the moment at least. So he laughed softly and when the pair of them made it back to where Amilia had parked her car? Jakes shooting his shot amongst a whole lot of chaos.

“Listen—I’ve gotta make sure some people are alright, but if I give you my number? what’s the chance you’ll let me take you out for a coffee just to say thanks?” And it’s the sweetest smile Jake ever sees creep across this gorgeous woman’s face. He’s spellbound, until Amilias laughing and answering him with the most ridiculous sentence that Jake Seresin has ever heard.

“I’d say that I didn’t come here to fuck spiders—“ Jakes short circuiting, he’s trying to blink a response into fruition but as Amilia is standing right in front of him trying not to lose her composure and laugh right in his face. She falters after a few seconds of watching the man struggle to find his words, with a hand covering her mouth, Jake knows she’s set him up. “It means the chances are high, Lieutenant Seresin.” Amilia coos, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I’m Australian, well I’ve been in the states for a while now but still—it’s just some silly saying that makes zero sense when you think about it.”

“Right—“ Oh my god Jake thinks he’s in love. He can feel his heart beating in his chest in a way he’s never quite experienced “Australian, I’ll uh—commit that detail to memory for when we go for that coffee and you can tell me all about the other silly saying you Aussies seem to have?” For a second Jake thinks maybe it’s just all the adrenaline’s pumping through his veins from the whole being detained saga, or the fact you’re probably in imminent danger, but it’s not. His heart is beating so hard inside his chest because Amilia is the textbook definition of perfection in Jake's eyes and he doesn’t even know her on a personal level.

He’s sure that when he sees that smile creep across her face again that he'll spontaneously combust if he gets a chance to get to know her more.

Amilia Fisher reaches for her phone and hands it over to Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the name she’d been told was his from the police officer who took her statement. By the time it’s in Jake's possession the screens already unlocked and open to a new contact setting. Jake beams, his cheeks feel hot and he knows he’s got a flush of crimson red creeping up his neck.

“I like a strong coffee Lieutenant, perhaps we could try that coffee shop down by the beach near Preston’s Pastries?” Amilia hadn’t gone into this thinking she’d get a date, but still, the possibility of getting to know the more than handsome Hollywood smile having Naval Aviator who stood before her didn’t seem like just a bad idea. “Or wherever you think is good—“

“The coffee shop near Preston’s Pastries seems like a good idea.” Jake smiled back, completely unaware of the fact he’d been standing out the front of the police station with this woman he didn't know yet saved his ass from being incarcerated for well over twenty minutes. “It's a date, Amilia.” Jake couldn’t believe he’d scored a date in all this mess—how the fuck was he meant to find time to go on a date when at any moment Jaidyn could snap. “Amilia Fisher—“ He liked that name. Amilia. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and thanks again for uh—literally bailing me out.”

“Just trying to do my civic duty.” She nodded, accepting the phone Jake handed back to her with his containers now saved, he’d sent himself a text. Not wanting to chance her not following up on their coffee date. “Lieutenant Seresin.”

“Hangman—“ Jake chuckled softly as he rubbed the back of his head. There was something about this girl, usually Jake was all talk and far too confident for his own good. But Amilia Fisher? There was something about her that had Jake swooning.

“Huh?” She bit back, figuring she’d misheard Jake. “Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“My callsign, it’s Hangman, or just Jake will be fine too.”

“The fuck kinda name is that?” Oh my god Jake swears he felt his knees buckle for a second when Amilia wrinkled her nose up in question to his callsign. Accepting it nevertheless as she turned to open her car door. “But sure, Hangman—how about you hop in and I’ll drive you to the navy base?” It’s an offer Jake can’t refuse, before he registers what he’s doing? He’s nodding a little too eagerly and racing around to the passenger side of Amilias sisters car. A two thousand and seventeen Santa Fe. Praying she knows how to drive and drive fast.

There's a song that plays through the speakers almost instantly as Jake does his seatbelt up and Amilia starts the car. He chuckles softly to himself, settling in while he pubs his psalm across his thighs.

“Something wrong Hangman?” Amilia taunts the sandy blonde who sits in her passenger seat looking all kinds of stressed out. She isn't sure if it's because he's trusting a complete stranger to drive him to work or because of the earlier escapades that transpired on daycare drop off.

“My sister, she listened to these guys religiously, it's almost intervention worthy.” Jake, although not their biggest Stan, can appreciate the Australian based Hilltop Hoods that's coming through the speakers. “I hear this song in my nightmares.”

“Your sister has impeccable taste if you ask me.” Amilia smiles, concentraining on pulling out from the curb. “Chase That Feeling is a powerhouse anthem.”

“She’d probably agree–” Jake replies, listening to the song play as his heart aches just a little inside his chest. He's losing it, he knows this is bigger than him, bigger than Bradley. He can't be everywhere at once and he can't protect you the way he promised he could. That much is becoming abundantly clear with every day Jaidyn Dolan is in North Island. “No scratch that, she’d definitely agree.”

***~***~****~***~***~***~***~**

“WHERE THE HELL IS LIEUTENANT DOLAN!?” Admiral Simpson, famous around Miramar for being the hard task master that he was—shouted at an astronomically loud level at the group of Naval Aviators as they geared up for the next round of flight training scheduled for the day. He was irate that two out of his eight Fighter Pilots were currently missing in action. “One of you better have a damn answer for either Lieutenant Dolan or Lieutenant Seresin being unaccounted for this morning!?” It was boarding 10am.

For some, it would be their first run of the day, Fanboy, Payback, Coyote and Jake himself were all late starters. Phoenix, Bob and Bradley however? They hadn’t been so lucky. They were the 7am starters for the next few days and hadn’t seen or heard from Hangman all morning.

“I’ve gotta go pick up my helmet from Felix’s Hanger, I left it there so she could fix that crack—“ Bob mumbles under his breath to Phoenix who just nods before she’s watching her back seater slither past a very clearly outraged Admiral Simpson.

“WELL—!?” Bradley just turns on his heels, opening his locker where his phone is ringing on silent. The stupid photo that’s linked to Jake's caller ID illuminates the screen for a few split seconds before the call is ringing out—revealing the seven texts, four missed calls and three voicemails Bradley has missed all the while his phone had been in his locker since he’d officially started. Fuck.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Fe!” Bob Floyd is a peculiar man to most. If anything he's a simple man with simple pleasures and a simple heart. He, although he's been met with his own trials and tribulations in life, knows he lived a rather sheltered life. He’d been a bookworm his entire life, lived on a farm with his brothers, his mum and dad. Worked whenever the sun was up and slept when the sun was down. “Hey, no pressure but I’m just wondering if you had a chance to look at my helmet yet?” He hadnt come face to face with anything that really rattled him, was never really a drinker—didn’t start fights like his brother was known for. “If you haven’t, that’s cool—I can just use the spare.” Well, maybe that was kind of wrong—Bob hadn’t faced anything that didn’t rattle him that hadnt been related to his chosen career choice that was. He practically stared death in the face Monday through Friday and laughed at him. “Felix? you in here?”

“Don't try anything stupid!” Jaidyns hissing in your face as you dress yourself. He does the same and shoves you out in line of sight as he hides away in the corner.

There’s a commotion coming from around the corner in your workshop as Bob's questions go unanswered. He swears he hears the voice of a man he can’t quite pick before you’re appearing. Fixing up your overalls and looking all thinks of panicked and scared out of your damn mind.

“Fe—? Are you alright?” Bob asked cautiously. He takes a step towards you but in your panic you step back. “What’s wrong?” it's imminent and undeniable as ever, something is incredibly wrong.

“I’ve put in a custom order for a new one, your helmet’s a little old and the crack running up the centre pretty much shot out its integrity.” You explained softly while you wiped your tears away and sauntered over to your desk where you had a helmet waiting for Bob. “If you ejected the helmet wouldn't do much good–so I binned it, but here’s a spare that was only catalogued into rotation last month. Hasn’t seen much use, so it should keep you pretty safe.”

“Uh—thanks.” Bob replies, still standing where he landed when he watched you take a hesitant step away from him. He clearly sees the line across your neck, the bruises the size of fingers. If someone’s here, and they did that, Bob knows you aren’t safe—and there’s only one person who Bob can think of that would lay their hands on you. “I appreciate it.”

“S’not a problem, really.” Your voice is shakier than ever as you scribble a quick note on a post it that’s on your desk. There’s a mirror hanging above your desk, you angle it just right. Hoping it does something.

The post it is barely legible but it will just have to do as you stick it to the inside of Bob's temporary helmet and take it over to him. “I’m just doing my job—but your new one shouldn’t take too long to come in.”

“Sounds perfect.” Bobs keeping things casual as he takes the helmet from you, flips it over and sees the bright orange post it. He goes silent as he reads it and feels his heart pounding against his chest.

“Jaidyn has a knife, go.”

“See you at lunch?”

“You bet.” You send Bob a soft and quick smile before you stand there and watch him leave. Bob takes a few steps before he turns around again, holding his helmet up under his arm as he signs to you the one thing you needed to hear most right now hoping that you still remember enough to be able to understand what he was signing to you.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***~***~***~**~***~***~***~***~

“Does anyone have any ideas as to where either of those men may or may not be?” It’s a lingering question that goes unanswered by the group. Admiral Simpson seemed rather unamused when he wasn’t given a direct answer by any of his aviators. “If they aren’t present and accounted for in fifteen minutes each and every single one of you will be doing pushups on that tarmac until your shoulders dislodge from their socket! AM I UNDERSTOOD?”

“Abundantly Sir—“ Fanboy replies meekly on behalf of the group who all watch as Admiral Simpson turns with a huff and exits the locker room—only to have one of his two missing Aviators run into him at full speed like he wasn’t watching where he was going.

“Admiral Simpson!” Jakes stammering. “I’m here, I’m here—I was on daycare duty and—“ Jake Seresin is out of breath, he’s a sweaty panicked mess of a man as he stands before his Admiral, white as a ghost. “Felix is in trouble sir, where’s Zeus?”

“He’s not here.” Bradley pipes up, the confirmation that Jaidyn isn’t in the locker room and in direct line of sight has Jake's head spinning. No. No what the fuck is he up to. “Cyclone here was just about to make us all do 300 push ups in your very out of character tardiness.” Jake brushes Bradley’s undercover stress off as he turns his attention back to the Admiral flaring his nostrils.

“Sir with all due respect somethings—“ Jake knows that Jaidyn is currently more unhinged than normal, being on base probably meant nothing to him at this point. But to the untrained, uninformed eye, Jaidyn Dolan was an exceptional pilot and a fine addition to Mirimars dagger unit.

“Hangman, does this look like a goddamn show and tell circle to you?” Cyclone cuts him off, still seeing red that he was late without any prior warning or excuse, not that it would have mattered anyway. “I don’t care why you're late and I don’t want to hear about it either! So just go do your job and do it well before someone else gets a chance to show you how they can do it better.” Everyone is silent as Jake Seresin is torn to shreds in the entryway to the locker room. Bradley knows something’s wrong by the way Jake just turns on his heels and heads off in the direction of your hanger, not even bothering to stop by his locker to collect his flight gear and helmet.

“Hangman wait up!” Rooster groans as he rounds the corner, catching up to Jake as his stride continues. One foot in front of the other, never stopping for a second because if he stops he might not make it in time. “Hold up a minute—“

“No time.” Jake wasn’t giving Bradley anything. “You need to answer your phone more often, you have no idea what kind of morning I’ve had!”

“Well if you’d stop for five seconds and fill me in I might be able to catch up and—“ There's a sudden shift in the dynamic between Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin as Jake turns around around, grabbing Rooster the the collar of his flight suit and shoving him up against the nearest wall. Holding him there with his forearm pressed against his chest. “Dude!?”

“Jaidyn came at me with a fucking knife in the carpark of Dots daycare, I got carted away to the station and nearly charged with assault! Until some woman I’ve never met handed in a video she took that set the record straight—and you’re here, with your back fucking turned and your guard down, doing jack shit while he’s NOT ACCOUNTED FOR!?”

“Jake—calm down!” Bradley doesn’t fight back, he’s still trying to process what Jake had just told him. Three words sticking out prominently. Knife, Jaidyn, Daycare.

“CALM DOWN!?” Jakes fuming, he’s got tunnel vision because he can’t let anything happen to you. He promised you’d be okay here, that you'd be safe and all he can think about is not being able to keep you safe anymore. “BRADSHAW! HE'S GOING TO FUCKING KILL HER! WHAT ISN'T CLICKING HERE!?”

He didn’t want to fail you again.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bobs standing against the wall just listening. He watched with reluctance as you made your way around the corner, out of his sight until he noticed the circular mirror on your desk—it’s angled almost too perfectly for it to be a coincidence.

Bob watches as he feels all the anger in the world wash over him as you drop to your knees before a man who isn’t Bradley. This isn’t good.

“Did you try anything funny?” Jaidyn asked as he thumbs your bottom lip. Looking down at you as you shake your head No in response before his open palm is connecting with your cheek. A crack rings out, it sends Bob into a frenzy. He finally understood what Rhett meant when he said protecting people he loved caused a blinding range so fierce sometimes that he didn’t know what he was doing until he was in the middle of a fight. “Atta girl baby—now, why don’t you be a good girl and finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Bob reaches for the nearest possible item he can use as a weapon. Looking left and right and then left again, Bob settled for the chock blocks that sit haphazardly near the wall. A forgotten set that you’d kicked away a few days ago.

“Please stop—“ You beg, you can barely bring yourself to speak. You know this is exactly what Jaidyn wants, for you to be vulnerable and alone. “Please, I can’t—“ It physically pains Bob to have to hear you beg, but what’s worse is the laugh your cries are met with in response. Like it’s funny that you’re begging for mercy.

“You know what’s really sad about this whole thing baby?” Jaidyn sighs as he starts to undo his flight suit again. “That you’ll have to admit it to yourself that you are the nasty whore that I’ve been saying you are for ye—“ Jaidyn doesn’t get a chance to speak as Bob swings the set of chocks from around the corner directly into Jaidyns nose. It’s hard rubber—the kind that packs a punch, the same type of rubber that mallets are made of.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god—“ You immediately panic as Jaidyn tumbles to the ground, he’s unconscious. “Holy shit holy fuck—Bob.”

“Let’s go!” Bob’s grabbing your wrist. “Go! Go!” He’s pulling you up off the ground with enough force it has you stumbling out in front of him. “Just run Y/n, don’t worry about him, just move!” Bobs not pushing you, but he’s guiding you out of the hanger until you pick up the pace. “I got you, I got you.” Bobs mumbling a mantra behind you as you run, run all the way out of the hanger and out onto the tarmac where you see Bradley and Jake walking over.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Jake man, I love you I do—but if you don’t let me go we’re gonna have a problem here.” Bradley’s as calm as he can be as Jake doesn’t loosen his hold. “Hangman, this is exactly what he wants man—if he drives a wedge between us, it makes it easier for him to get at her.” Bradley explains and it’s as if that explanation alone breaks through the haze that’s clouding Jake's better judgement. He still doesn’t let go as his eyes flood with tears. “Don’t let what he’s playing at eclipse the bigger picture here.”

“God I hate when you get all philosophical.” Jake groans, letting Rooster go as he steps back and away from his best friend. “I’m sorry, I am—but if he’s not here—than he’s with Y/n and after the stunt he fucking pulled on me thismorning that’s not a good thing.”

“Well if you're done strangling me we’ll go check on her.” Bradley just sighs, dusting himself off as he walks with Jake out onto the tarmac, side by side as they make quick by long strides towards the hanger that’s yours. Your workshop, your safe space.

But stop in their tracks when they see you barreling towards them, screaming, crying. And Robert Floyd running just shy behind you.

“What the hell happened!?” Bradley’s the first to ask when you slam into him at full speed, immediately he feels you wrap your arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his chest as Bob looks at Jake. “Bob?”

“That fucker—“ Jakes the one who takes off running back towards your hanger, Bobs hot on his tail all the while Bradley drops to the ground with you, hugging you tight as you cry uncontrollably. In complete and utter hysterics.

“Honey—honey look at me.” Bradley sees the bruises on your neck and the line across it that looks like it’s been cut. “You don’t have to tell me what happened but I need you to listen when I tell you I’ve got you alright?” It’s hard to believe when you’re in so deep. So immersed in the lies that Jaidyn manages to have you believing about yourself. “I’ve got you, I’m here.” There’s no response, all Bradley is met with is more painful tears as he holds you in his arms and rocks with you on the tarmac.

“Don’t let me go—“ It comes out so soft that Bradley hardly hears you say it, but you do and he kisses your forehead in response as he holds you just a little tighter.

He’d never let you go.

“He was making her do shit Hangman.” Bob's explaining as he races after Jake. “I don’t know how long he was messing with her for.”

“Probably all morning, fuck.” Jakes pissed. He could murder someone right now, he could feel his hands tingling with rage—blinded by the need to protect the best thing in his life. You. “Where is he?” Jake’s asking as Bob and him make it back to the hanger. “Bob?”

“He was right over here?” Bob’s nearly speechless when he rounds the corner where he’d left Jaidyn and finds he’s gone. There’s a small amount of blood on the concrete but that’s all that’s left. “I can’t imagine he’s gotten far—“

“Son of a bitch isn’t gonna get away with this.” Is all Jake says before he’s looking around. “YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!?” Jakes shouting at the top of his lungs in case Jaidyn is lurking in the shadows.

“Jake, he assaulted her.” Bobs repeating the predicament out loud again as straightforward as he can manage. “I didn’t get here in enough time.”

“No, Bob, that shit aint on you man.” Jake sighs as he notices the camera is the corner flashing red, maybe there was a chance something had been caught. “You did the best you could.”

“We gotta tell the Admirals Jake, he can’t get away with this.”

“He won’t.” Jakes agreeing. His face red with anger and heartbreak and revenge.

“He’s not gonna get away with it, any of it.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising

#terms of endearment// jake seresin #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #bob floyd #robert floyd imagine

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johannestevans · 8 months

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always curious what people's like. staple meals and regular meals are

like the meals you regularly cook a few times in a month, for yourself or your family as well

bc for me it's like

bacon sandwiches. basic.

garlic bread

baked feta with peppers & tomatoes, oregano, olive oil, a bit of lemon juice

the lidl potato gratin with peppers, tomatoes, and spinach mixed in, again normally with olive oil and some cheese

roast chicken with roasted potatoes and root vegetables, normally carrots and parsnips

pork souvlakia, chunks of usually belly pork or chop on kebab sticks and oven grilled with or without chunks of pepper and tomato

dolmades, vine leaves stuffed with stewed rice

chicken risotto made with chicken stock on a base of butter with spring onions and bacon to toast the rice with

pasta with chicken pieces with a tomato-based sauce w more cheese and vegetables

a "greek salad" with some modifications - chunks of cucumber, tomato, red and yellow pepper, spinach leaves, red onion or spring onions, garlic granules, and then olive oil and feta chunks

parchment pastry scrolls, a spread of pastry smeared with tomato purée or similar chutney, cheese, bacon, vegetables, or mushrooms, and then cut into discs and baked

homemade burgers with beef or lamb mince, tiny chopped onions, egg, honey as a binding agent, and then fried hopefully to eat with slices of cheddar or leerdammer, bacon, and pickles/cornichons

i made a kouneli stifado a while back (whole rabbit cut into chunks, slow cooked with potatoes and root vegetables, onions, red wine, stock, etc) that i want to do more regularly bc a whole rabbit is a fiver and it feeds a LOT of people

then obvs like. various oven cooked things i don't modify, like prawn tempura or frozen calamari, etc

because i've moved and haven't set up my rice cooker or got my short grain rice again, and bc i don't have a new deep fat fryer yet, i'm not cooking like, my fresh cut chips, or maki rolls and onigiri, or a meal i'd regularly do of just like. fried eggs on rice and stuff

i used to make lasagnes more regularly and i'd like to go back to that, esp bc like... i love making latkes and once we have a nice wide frying pan it will be nice to do that more regularly, and my big thing atm is that i want to learn to cook with some new ingredients

i want to learn to do more and more interesting stuff with coconut and pineapple, i want to do more like. kormas and other diff curries, i want more green vegetables, esp asparagus and broccoli

i want to cook more with different fish and sea food bc i know i desperately need the oil for my fucked up joints and brain, i want to break more breads and savoury things, esp garlic and tearaway breads

esp bc like. my body's capacity for red meat is fucking terrible lmao, i want more fibre and less heavy protein from red meat at once so i don't just utterly eviscerate my guts lmao

#musings

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allemantheias · 10 months

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Repaying them for saving you. Part 4. [END]

Status: finished. 03-12-2023. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. [Part 4.]

Read this on AO3. ~ ~ Masterlist. ~ ~ Word count: 907.

In the morning you wake up and see that you're alone. When you look around the room you discover the clothes you wore yesterday on a chair next to the bedroom door. Washed, dried and ironed. There's a note on the folded stack of clothes and you read it.

"Take your time getting ready, take a long shower in my bathroom if you want and make some food in the kitchen. We're checking up on some intel on the guys from yesterday. Back around twelve."

So after a long shower and this time not dropping your clothes on the wet floor, you walk into the kitchen and look around for someone to help you, since you don't know where to find anything you need. No one's here and you decide to inspect all the cabinets and drawers. You hear footsteps behind you and turn around. An older woman stands in front of you.

"Can I help you?" A friendly voice asks.

"Yes, um- sorry, I-" Embarrassed from getting caught you look at the floor.

"Don't worry, Coronel Vargas told me to help you with breakfast if you came into the kitchen. Is there anything I can make for you?"

"Are there any leftovers?" You don't want to bother this woman to cook for you.

"Sweetheart, I was ordered to make you something fresh. Don't be shy, tell me what you would like to have now. Come take a look in the fridge." She leads you into a massive walk-in fridge. Lots of men and women have to be fed three times a day, so they need a big space to keep everything at the right temperature. You feast your eyes on all the ingredients present, think about which ones you want to eat now.

"I would love some Mexican scrambled eggs."

She hands you a basket lined with a patterned dishcloth. "What do you want in your scrambled eggs?"

"Green and red peppers, cherry tomatoes, some toasted bread on the side." You dream about all the ingredients that would be good together.

"Alejandro and Rudy will be back by the time your food is done. They'll like this too." The products you name are put in the basket by the woman. "Looks good." She takes the basket from you and starts preparing the ingredients on the large counter in the kitchen.

"Can I help? I feel bad for letting someone else do all the work."

"Of course, sweetheart." She walks out of this part of the kitchen and comes back a few seconds later with a cutting board and knife. "Don't feel bad for having someone do their job. I get paid to make food." You nod and start cutting the peppers into small cubes, while the woman quarters the cherry tomatoes. She softens the cut-up vegetables in a deep skillet and you whisk the eggs until there's no separation of white and yellow anymore. You oil the slices of bread and put them in the preheated oven, while the woman scrambles the eggs in the skillet. "You're late! You said you'd be back at twelve." The woman hits Rodolfo with a wooden ladle.

"Sorry, mama. We had to take a detour because of a military checkpoint." This is his mother!

"Corrupt?"

"Very possible, we didn't want to risk it."

"Good choice. Now sit, lunch is ready. And breakfast for you, sweetheart." She lays her hand on your back and guides you to the closest table. The men scoop their plates full of food before sitting down and immediately start stuffing their mouths. "As if they're starving."

"Mama, it's been four hours since we had breakfast!"

"I gave you food for on the road." Rudy's mom makes him look down at his plate in defeat.

"It's lovely as always, Mrs. Parra." Alejandro compliments.

"I had wonderful help." Encouraging she places her hand on your shoulder. Alejandro looks up at you with a smile on his face, before he goes back to eating. "It's still Violeta for you, honey." She turns to you. "I've known him since they both joined the military when they were sixteen and he still addresses me so formally." You chuckle and scoop up, are also starving, just like the men across the table. "Hey, how are you feeling after last night's fun?" Alejandro sits next to you at the table you had breakfast at.

"Great. I'm glad I was able to thank you both like that." You see him laugh at your words, but his expression turns serious again quickly and you're worried that there's some bad news about the cartel guys. "Was I an isolated attack?"

"Yes, we reviewed everything the intel could find on kidnappings. Your name was nowhere to be found. They probably decided to take you when they spotted you alone, an easy target." He explains. It soothes your nerves that no other cartel members know about yesterday, so there won't be another group waiting for an opportunity to catch you again. "Ready to go home?"

"Yes." You're happy to go home again, yesterday was a scary experience, but you will also miss Alejandro, Rudy and his mother. It may have only been one evening, an amazing night, and one morning, but too much has happened to walk away untouched by all of this. By them.

"Let's go." "Thanks again for saving me." Maybe in another life, maybe in another world, an alternate universe - will you meet them again.

This story ends here. I hope you liked it and that I did the gender neutrality justice on my first time writing it. Please, if you have feedback, please please let me know.

There will be a first-person-original female character 'continuation'. With that, I mean that there will be a sort of alternate timeline where this one continues.

Thanks for reading this one and leaving all the likes and reblogs. I absolutely appreciate that.

#alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro vargas x original female character #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo parra x you #rodolfo parra x original female character #spit roasted by alerudy #age different relationships #age difference

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kookythekatkueen · 1 year

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This is a goth chicks blog

A little bit about me

First: I'm a bit shy and don't talk much, but I will build up the courage and reply to your direct messages or comments (maybe no promises, so don't get mad or sad; socializing is not my strong suit)

Name: Malak (The English translation is Angel🪽)

Age: 22, 4-July-2002 ♋️

Sexuality, Gender & Pronouns: Pansexual, Female, she/her/they/them 🏳️‍🌈♀️

Height: 161cm / 5.28ft

Languages I speak: English & Arabic عربي

Relationship Status: Lonely, just me and my thoughts

Religion: Muslim ☪️

Pet: A rescue African Gray Parrot named Shady. She is 13 y/o, had her for 8y. 🦜

Favorite Color: Blue, but sometimes Purple or Emerald Green. Although I am mainly in black because it is cute.

3 Favorite Foods: 2 of them are Lebanese cuisine 🇱🇧

Lebanese Raw Meat Slab; usually comes with a variety of types of prepared raw meat. Ps it's all sheep meat "I know raw meat is crazy to eat in most countries, but please be respectful this is my culture." 🥩

Warak Enab (Dolma) is grape leaves stuffed with rice, tomatoes, onions, mint leaves, and parsley leaves🥬

Spaghetti with cut-up hotdogs in it (Comfort food) 🍝

Favorite Artist & what song is my favorite from them:

Adele, Chasing Pavements 🎤

Owl City, The Tornado 🎼

Ghost, Square Hammer 🎸

Things I like to do: Art (digital, traditional, crafts), Sewing Clothes, Cooking 👩🏻‍🎨🎨🖌️🖼️ 🧝🏻‍♀️🧵🪡 👩🏻‍🍳🍳🥘

Best way to spend a night: Cook some food and dessert. Then enjoy a movie or TV show while eating. After that spend the rest of the time make legos or puzzles, maybe some art or reading a book. 🍔🍟🍩 🧩 📺

Favorite Movie & TV Show: The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings trilogy & The Big Bang Theory

Dream Job: Applied physicist at CERN ⚛️

Dream Trip: Going to Antarctica, I love traveling to the point where I've been to +30 countries. 🇦🇶

The last thing I Googled: The Standard Model | CERN (home.cern) I'm doing some pre-studying before I get into college; my major is Physics ⚛️👩🏻‍🔬

Anything I really want right now: Greek salad 🥗

Pictures of Me:

♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤

🕷🕸🥀⛓🩸🕷🕸🥀⛓🩸 🕷🕸🥀⛓🩸

♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤

#goth girl #goth #gothic #makeup #makeup looks #blog #introduction #introducing myself #Spotify

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najia-cooks · 2 years

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[ID: A close-up of two small pastry rectangles topped with an herb-filled cheese spread, sliced figs, and apricots; the plate is drizzled with agave nectar. End ID.]

Pâte feuilletée (puff pastry)

Pâte feuilletée is made by interposing layers of butter in between layers of lean dough so that the dough flakes and puffs up as the butter boils in the oven. Specialty vegan frozen puff pastries do exist—and a lot of supermarket frozen puff pastry is "accidentally" vegan, using vegetable oils instead of dairy. But making puff pastry from scratch can give you versatility in terms of its thickness and flavor, and produce tastier, flakier results.

Puff pastry can make the base for a fruit tart, make a shell for stuffing with sweet or savory filling, or be folded and rolled into a variety of shapes and eaten brushed with sugar syrup. Try recipes for apple turnovers or a French tomato tart!

Recipe under the cut.

Patreon | Tip jar

To make puff pastry, you'll need to surround a layer of fat (beurrage) with a lean dough (détrempe) and then fold it up and roll it out several times, intermittently refrigerating it to keep the margarine from softening and to give the gluten time to rest. Each time you do this folding process is called a “turn”; classic recipes call for the dough to be folded in three on each turn and turned six times, producing 729 layers. Interposing layers of fat and flour is called "lamination," and puff pastry is one type of "laminated dough" (other types include Danish pastry and croissant dough).

This recipe is distinct from a non-vegan recipe in no way except for the substitution of non-dairy margarine for butter. I prefer to use Earth Balance margarine to make puff pastry; other brands of non-dairy stick margarine that I've tried are softer and tend to squeeze out of the dough, making it difficult to shape.

Ingredients:

2 cups + 2 tbsp (250g) all-purpose flour

¾ cup + 2 tbsp (200g) vegan margarine (sticks, not spread)

1/4 - 3/4 tsp salt, to taste

Around ½ cup (125mL) water

Puff pastry does not traditionally include sugar, though you may add some to the lean dough with no ill effect. I prefer to use salted, unsugared puff pastry even for dessert applications—I love the contrast of savory pastry and sweet filling or topping!

Instructions:

1. Make a margarine square. Cut margarine into large cubes. arrange the cubes into a square on top of a sheet of plastic wrap, then fold the plastic wrap back over the top. Flatten the cubes into a solid square about 1/2″ thick by beating the wrapped margarine with a rolling pin. Refrigerate while you prepare the lean dough.

2. Make the lean dough. Measure the flour into a large bowl or directly onto a work surface; if you're measuring by volume, do so by gently spooning the flour into a measuring cup until heaping and then levelling it off.

3. Form a hole in the center of the flour, then add salt and 1 Tbsp of water into the hole. Mix the salt and water into the flour with fluffing motions of your hand. Add water little by little, continuing to fluff the flour with your hand until large chunks form and the dough sticks together when pressed. (Mixing with this type of motion will prevent overworking—you don’t want too much gluten to form in the dough.)

4. Form the lean dough into a square (it’s alright if it’s a bit messy) and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

5. Roll out the lean dough into a square about 7″ (18cm) in diameter. Place the square of margarine on top of the lean dough at a 45-degree angle, then fold the corners of the lean dough over to meet over the top of the margarine and pinch to join.

6. Turn the square over seam-side-down onto a lightly floured work surface. Roll it out into a rectangle about twice as long as it is wide, and fold into thirds lengthwise like a letter.

7. Rotate the folded rectangle 90 degrees, then roll it out and fold it up again just as you did before. At this point you’ve completed the first two turns. Make two marks in your dough with your fingers to remind yourself of where you are in the process. Refrigerate the dough for 30 minutes.

8. Roll out and fold the dough twice more, rotating it 90 degrees between each turn, and marking four turns with your fingers before returning the dough to the refrigerator. You can pat some flour into any spots where you see the margarine start to break through. If this is happening a lot, you may need to refrigerate the dough every turn instead of every two turns.

9. Complete the final two turns and chill the dough for at least an hour, or overnight.

And that's it! Your puff pastry is ready to be rolled out, cut, shaped, and baked.

To bake:

1. To make the puff pastry bites pictured, cut your puff pastry in half and refrigerate the half you're not working with. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough into a rectangle with a thickness of about 1/8" (the pastry will expand to around 4 times its initial thickness in the oven).

2. Using a sharp, floured knife, cut the dough into pieces of your desired size and shape. Use separate downwards motions to cut the pastry, rather than dragging the knife along the length of the pastry, to keep it from tearing. Make sure that your pieces are about even in size, and avoid making shapes with any pieces that are much longer and thinner than the rest of the shape—these smaller pieces may burn before the other parts of the shape are cooked. Repeat with the other half of the pastry.

3. Place pastry on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Chill in the freezer while you preheat your oven to 375 °F (190 °C).

Chilling the pastry just before baking gives it a chance to firm up again after being shaped and handled. Preheating your oven is very important with this recipe: beginning the baking at too low a temperature will cause the margarine to melt and leak out the sides of the dough, rather than creating the steam you need to aerate the pastry. For best results, put your pastry in a few minutes after the oven has come to temperature to allow it to cook at an even heat.

4. Bake for 10-15 minutes, until the top and base of each piece of pastry is golden brown.

Serve alongside dried apricots and sliced figs briefly sautéd in margarine, honey or agave nectar, and a soft, spreadable cheese.

#puff pastry #French

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thessalian · 1 year

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Thess vs Parental Dinner Guests

My mother and I have dinner every so often. She used to invite me out until she finally understood that a) the noise and travel and everything just leaves me tired and sore and not in a great mood, and b) I actually like cooking for people I care for. So now she comes to my place and I cook for her.

Unfortunately, she kind of changed the timings at the last minute, so I did the sensible thing and cancelled my Saturday D&D shenanigans. Not that I didn't sort of have D&D shenanigans; to entertain my mother while I was putting finishing touches on things, and for during dinner, I put on Honour Among Thieves. She loved it, so I sent her home with that on loan - very short-term loan - so she can watch it properly. Or as properly as my mother ever watches anything, because she talks through movies all the time, even if she's never seen them before. The dumbest - if funniest - part is when she asks things like, "Ooh, they're going to die, aren't they? --DON'T TELL ME!" to which I just started replying, "Then stop asking!"

She also really enjoyed dinner. I pretty well outdid myself; I think that's the best roast chicken I've produced so far. Also mashed potatoes with sour cream, garlic puree and a bit of diced onion, and broccoli. Even sent Mum home with a couple of scraps for Digby. But of course, then I had to clean everything up. Which unfortunately involved slicing into my left index finger just below the thumbnail while I was carving up the chicken breast for later leftovers. It got bleedy so now I'm wearing band-aids and it's messing with my touch-typing and also it stings. And all the plates and utensils and all of that, and now the carcass is boiling for stock. Mostly on the basis of, I was buying potatoes and sour cream for this meal anyway and all I needed was some evaporated milk (the accepted substitute for half-and-half) and some bacon and I had everything I needed for more potato soup. Now, I do also have stock cubes but I want to see how it is with fresh stock. Thus, boiling chicken carcass.

Very tired, though. And sore. I kind of left it until late to take my meds so ow on a number of levels. So cancelling Shenanigans was a wise move. There will be hot bath and maybe video gaming, but the video gaming depends on which video game and how fast my finger goes from bleedy to just "ow". Cuts near the fingertip are a bitch; decent band-aid placement tends to immobilise a joint and it has to kind of fold near the top, which enbiggens the fingertip and makes touch-typing hard.

Still. Successful dinner with Mum. It's nice when I can impress her with my cooking. Wasn't quite as good as when I served her meatloaf and she cleaned her plate for the first time in years, but close! And I have leftover mashed potato, and lots of leftover chicken, and she brought me some asparagus and tenderstem broccoli she wasn't using, so a goodly amount of the leftover chicken will become chicken and vegetable risotto. Though if I get hungry later (because of course I skipped lunch like some kind of idiot), it'll be a toasted bacon and tomato sandwich.

...wait. I bought Bugles and was going to have them as snacks for Mum and I forgot entirely.

Eh, well, she was stuffed when she left anyway. Also more for me. I worked very hard today and was very successful and I deserve a bag of Bugles all to myself.

#Thess has parental units #Thess cooks

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adventuresofpotat · 2 years

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Thoughts #014: Backstory considerations, Minion naming

Still not sure what to do about my wol's backstory and "real" identity. I think ultimately it will come down to whether or not I end up really liking one of the characters enough to want to self-insert my wol as a romance companion. I.e., ya'll will just have to wait for me to play through enough of this game before I have a feel for what I wanna do about the backstory for my wol lol

If I don't end up liking anyone enough to romance, I'll likely keep my wol as a lala. But if I do... I'll likely swap my lala into a miqo once I get a bottle of fantasia. Again, I cannot for the life of me envision romancing, say, Thancred, while the size of a lala. I just...no. LOL

If I keep my wol as a lala, then the backstory goes back to isekai-style, where Sneeze was once a human and then got stuffed into a teeny tiny lala body with the promise of being able to return to earth if she helps defeat the big bad evil in eorzea. But (of course) sneeze isn't going to want to leave after... presumably like. YEARS of living in Eorzea? LOL And I can make some sort of backstory for Sneeze's time on earth to make the decision to stay in Eorzea make sense, I guess.

I suppose there's also no stopping of doing a semi-combination of the two, where I keep the isekai concept, but just write in a fantasia evolution piece if I do end up wanting to romance any of the canonical characters later on down the line.

...Actually, maybe that would make more sense? LOL I'm impatient so lowkey I want to just establish something without much more delay, so... I'll think on the idea some more, but it does feel more promising since it would allow me to establish a backstory, be done with it, and move on.

In terms of other related details, I p much want to make Gridania the home-area for my wol since I really like the foresty aesthetic of the region. And irl I do admire plants and flowers a lot, and really like reading about peoples' concoctions they can make from various herbs, etc. be it from like native stories, fictional tales of witches or alchemists, etc... they always fascinate me. So I want to work that into my wol's lore somehow, too. Maybe Sneeze hails from a family of potion-crafters, or something lol. (Or a family who runs a private, wholistic medicine pharmacy, if I go with the isekai route.)

As for naming my minions, I've really taken to having the red panda out. I think because it sits on my wol's head so cutely so I ended up just...keeping it out lmfao. I think for now, I'll just name the one minion, but if I start swapping it out for other minions, I'll name them as I go.

But now to name the red panda... Pepper? Paprika? Peanut? Tofu... But...if it could be a somewhat red-colored food item, I think that would give it some extra cuteness, lol.

Pepper and Paprika kind of give an impression of redness. Apple. Tomato. Turnip? Hmm...

...a few moments later LOL

I think I'll settle with Turnip! Turnips aren't exactly red, but the purplish and white coloration pattern kinda suits a red panda's, don't you think? (:

And now I'm already thinking about how I'd gijinka the red panda into an anthropomorphized companion for Sneeze huhu... Can ya'll imagine how CUTE that would be oh my god 😭💚

Also, a random aside... I really, really want to get a moogle companion/minion bc they're so CUTE!! 😭💚 Hopefully one day...

#ooc #misc.#wol sneeze

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worldwright · 4 months

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Good evening !

Hope you feel a bit better than yesterday !

I'm currently taking down the things I put on my walls, and, wow, I feel bad. it's like I'm skinning alive a loved pet.

We organized everything for the 10th and my role is : nothing. i-i've got smth to do at the same time everyone gonna be putting the furniture in our new home. and i'm not skipping therapy for that (my friends say that it's more important than helping them move things ????? how ?????) like even my fucking brother is gonna help to put things in the truck

but it sucks bc we classified people as tank or dps. and we only got ONE tank bc i'm not there ;-; we're just hoping that our other buffy friend is free that day

have a wonderful morning my friend !

TANK AND DPS MOVING ROLES OH MY FUCKING GOD THE GALAXY BRAIN. TELL WHOEVER CAME UP WITH THAT THAT THEY'RE A FUCKING GENIUS

I made stuffed bell peppers for dinner last night!! they were all right, but I forgot to add tomato paste so they were not nearly as good as they could have been :(

oh my GOD there was this little song at the end of one of the dracula podcast episodes (they do that sometimes, usually they're spooky) but THIS ONE. OH MY GODDDDDDDDD it was the most silly horny fucked up goofy little tune SUNG BY DRACULA about how bad he wants to fuck Johnathan (while killing him) (but sexily) every fucking line made me scream-laugh I don't know how I'm supposed to take dracula seriously after that it was a masterpiece

it's still crazy stormy today! we have high wind warnings and everything lmao

hope you have a wonderful evening, friend!!

#pen pal

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saltygilmores · 2 years

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: S1/Ep19 ("Emily In Wonderland")

What happens in this episode: Emily comes to visit The Hollow and leaves upset over what she learns. Rachel unearths the ruins of the old Dragonfly Inn while working on a boring photography project about Small Town America that nobody really cares about. Rory's peculiar food habits continune to be revealed. Lorelai asks to borrow Luke's thingy/admires his pickle. Lorelai's desire to see Luke & Rachel break up is more transparent than a sheet of cellophane. There are only two episodes left in Season 1 after this.

Emily: There are no baby pictures of Lorelai (because when Lorelai was 7 she burned them). Rory says I bet Mom was a cute baby and Emily agrees. What the hell was this then:

They spent a good few minutes in that episode (6 or 7 I think?) looking through Lorelai's baby photo albums. I commented that this didn't look like a photograph taken in the late 60's. The Gilmores just ordered pancakes and bacon and there were no lectures from Luke about the evils of red meat so I guess they've dropped that trait of his. Rachel: Lorelai has amazing eyes. Don't you think? Luke: Yeah. They're...placed good. Symmetrical. Rory's pager goes off: RG: I'm buzzing. LG: What did I say about buzzing in public? Dirty joke #1.

I am hysterical over Rory eating a slice of french toast on the run. Who does that? I could even see a waffle, maybe, but French toast? And you mean to tell me there was no syrup or butter on it either? She eats plain French toast? It's no "taking a can of Parmesan cheese into her room" from the previous episode or "eating two plain slices of white bread for lunch" (from a future episode), I admit, but still, that girl is very peculiar. Rory mentions again that she works at the Independence Inn several days a week and on special occasions. Ugh, stop lying, French Toast Girl.

The former Gilmore Abode (the infamous potting shed). Emily is just finding out that this is where Rory used to live as a child and she reacts, very upset over what she's learned. I initially thought that perhaps this was a sign of her feeling guilty, that she could let Lorelai and Rory slip away from her and end up living in such a place, but later she turns it around to accuse Lorelai of letting it happen. Rachel gives Lorelai a tour of Luke's apartment, and I think this is the first time we see the inside of it. LG: "I haven't been picturing the inside of Luke's apartment...at all." Nope you totally haven't been picturing what his bed looks like and what you want to do in it. Rachel to Lorelai: I cannot find your pictures here (in Luke's apartment). Maybe they're in his bathroom. Lorelai: I don't know want to know why. Dirty Joke #2! And what a filthy one it was! I love when they slip them in! #ThatsWhatSheSaid Emily's reacts to the discovery about the shed by trying to make it up to Rory (and to try and make Lorelai feel bad). So she sets up her vision of a teenage girl's dream bedroom. A flowery pink bedroom with stuffed animals, Hello Kitty, and boyband posters, even though Rory would rather walk over hot coals than ever listen to pop music.

Someone who is not a Millennial such as myself could never understand the utter joy this exchange brings me. Backside Boys 4ever, by the way. Rory chooses N'Sync, because of course French Toast Girl would pick them over the Backside Boys. (I love all three groups).

Tomatos Sign: Spotted. Season 1, Episode 19: Luke Danes asks Lorelai Gilmore: "Do you want some coffee?" That's the stupidest question I've ever heard since Jack Pearson asked Rebecca Pearson "Am I cute enough to get lucky?" Another first: The first time we see the stock room. Some of the contents of the stock room? Potatoes, oranges, A1 sauce, Spam, Pop Tarts, chilli, apple sauce, gravy, rice, tomato sauce, and a fuckton of mustard and pickles.

I think she wants your pickle Luke.

Notice the giant box of Pop Tarts on the left. Have you ever heard of a restaurant serving Pop Tarts? Well, this is The Hollow, where people eat slices of French Toast as snacks.

And the people would wait impatiently for the day Lorelai finally borrowed Luke's thingy.

If Taylor wasn't embezzling funds for bridge repair festivals maybe he could fund the construction of a proper movie theater.

Boyband posters in frames. Oh you fancy Emily. Mere mortals of the day like me just scotch taped those fuckers to the wall and hoped they wouldn't fall down in the middle of the night and scare the piss out of us. Lorelai: Do you see the NSync poster? It's a poster of Justin, not Nsync. I'm legally obligated to point that out. JC Chasez was way more talented btw. Things Lorelai observes in the room: Hello Kitty notepads, Cosmo Girl magazine, boyband posters, sunflowers. With each item she names, the resentment in her voice grows. LG: "Well, at least you didn't buy her a car." I couldn't decide if I wanted to make a "you built me a car?" joke or comment on how the Gilmores do buy her a car a few years later. I presumed was Emily was feeling some sort of guilt or shame (and trying to alleivate the guilt by making a cozy home away from home for Rory), was sort of incorrect. Instead she turns on Lorelai, angry at her that she would ever allow her grandaughter to live in a shed, and that Lorelai would choose to live in a shed than with her mother. The episode ends with Sookie and Lorelai visiting The Dragonfly, where Sookie has a panic attack over the thought of opening an Inn. The Good: The Nostaliga! Oh, the Nostalgia! Lots of dirty jokes! Rory's bizarre eating habits continue to amuse me. The meeting of Emily and Mrs. Kim was entertaining. No Dean. Not even a mention of Dean. Hooray! The New: The first plot seed is sown for Lorelai & Sookie's eventual purchase of the Dragonfly Inn. The first time we see the potting shed. The first time we see the inside of Luke's apartment and his stock room. The confusing: Emily says there are no baby pictures of Lorelai left, but according to episode 6, there's at least one. Rory says she has a job and that is not true. The Bad: Nothing at all. Tomatos Sign: Yes How Many Episodes Until Jess Shows Up: 7

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Luke Danes #Gilmore GIrls Season 1 #Emily In Wonderland #French toast

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

The Vessel [Pt. 3]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you are trying to figure out why the Witcher is so abhorrent towards you, he finally gives you a hint as to why he doesn't like you. Also, you realize something— Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

Warnings: Geralt being a dick is what.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did.

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage.

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity.

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at your place like unwanted guests who were exceeding their stay.

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs.

"It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly."

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion.

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again.

"Me? Stuck between a broody Witcher and a scary Witch? God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it.

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—"

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"

"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you realize that."

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them.

"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you.

"Did he, [Y/N]?"

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. Living under your roof, she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—"

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far.

"It's time we move on. Keep the coin. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—"

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own?

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—"

"We will roast a deer on our way, Jaskier." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way."

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there."

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— fighting back the smile that craved to break out.

"Jaskier, you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I leave," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— them— the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like DO NOT mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham."

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs.

But the void remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you.

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you.

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone had kneed you in the gut—

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face.

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. Geralt needs—" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle.

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — I'm f-fine.. Jaskier.. Jaskier..fuck.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... Novigrad."

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs.

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?"

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were.

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth.

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— well technically, it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers.

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now.

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist."

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace.

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you.

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out.

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. He could have left you to rot, stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer.

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?"

His question pulled you off track.

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest.

"No, not a healer, just a woman with a passion to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way."

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire.

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier.

"You should have said no."

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you.

"Geralt, you should lie down—"

"You should have said no to Yennefer, but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do."

"Says the man who makes a living slaying monsters. Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze.

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it."

"Like what, Geralt? Don't you think I tried all these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. How dare he?

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in."

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm NOT having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home."

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry."

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying.

"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough.

"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."

"That is not the point, Ger—"

"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, worked. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @miss-emilia-cavill @little-jana @auds24 [I don't know why Tumblr won't let me tag you! 🙄]

Want to be tagged to my list? Please do let me know via Ask, Message box or via a comment. Thanks! 💗

#geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill #henry cavill x y/n

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hufflesmonsters · 4 years

Text

New Beginnings

A/N: hi, just dropping in to say I’m writing again >:D enjoy this slow burn. Also, surprise, it’s not a lizard man story though I do have one in the works so there is that.

~*~*~*~

Torren swung the ax down, splitting the log in two. Sweat beaded his brow as the sun bore down on him. He stuck the ax down in the wood stump and stood, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand as he looked up at the sky. Just past noon, he’d have to get a move on if he was going to be on time for the kings summon. If he even wanted to take the job, whatever it was. If King Richard the second wished to hire a mercenary, it surely couldn’t be for anything fun. He clearly didn’t want to waste his own men for this, which meant that Torren was likely going to die during his job.

And yet… the money he would get if he lived. He could retire, and finally live his dream of being the towns hermit to its fullest potential. As in, he only ever comes into town on stormy nights to buy ten kegs of ale and disappear for another three months. He grew his own food, hunted his own meat. Of course he kept messing up his tomato plants which meant he had to go into town to get those, but once he can figure it out then mission Hermit was a go.

Stepping back, he grabbed the shirt he had draped over a nearby branch and walked towards his home. It was a nice little shack, one he’d built from scratch back when he was just a young boy. He had found the location by accident really, one minute he was being chased by his elder brothers, the next he was standing in a clearing with a pond and no one in sight for miles. At first it was just a cool hideout, somewhere he could go to get away from his crazy family and village bullies. But over the years he spent more and more time here, fixing it up and expanding the facilities. Next thing he knew he had completely moved in and claimed the land officially as his.

Tossing the shirt on the couch, he walked into his bedroom and opened his dresser. He wasn’t sure what he’d need really, if this was a quick trip, and he hoped it was, he’d only really need two shirts, pants and his washing supplies. He already had his armor on, his swords were already by the door, polished and ready to go. He grabbed the shirts, extra pants, and his bag of supplies and stuffed them into a bag that he could tack onto his horses saddle. He’d grab a small coin purse for food and drink, which should cover him for his trip if he was careful. If he ran out of coin he’d only have to offer to chop wood for inns or something like that.

As he turned to leave, bag in hand, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed the oat bag for Sweetie. Most of the time she was content to just chew on grass, or even break into gardens and devour everything in sight. But oats, how she loved oats.

The sun glared at him as he exited the house, he stopped briefly to lock it up before continuing down the path to the pasture. He could already see the giant grazing peacefully, black tail flicking away bugs as her dappled gray coat shone silver in the sunlight. She was truly a magnificent horse, holding a presence without even trying. She was a draft horse, one of the few capable of holding a full grown orc. And she was an absolute sweetie, hence, her name.

“Got something for you, Sweetie,” Torren called as he entered the stall part of the pasture, grinning as her large head shot up, ears pointed forward and nostrils flaring. She smelled the oats like sharks smell blood in the water. With a graceful trot, she soon stood in front of him, towering over him by two feet. She bent down and nuzzled his cheek lovingly, snorting into his ear as he tried to shove her away. “We don’t have time to cuddle, girl. The King wants us at the castle by midday tomorrow.”

Sweetie snorted and stood upright again, flank twitching as she moved past him and into the tacking area. She was smart, smarter than most horses he’d met. She waited patiently as he began to saddle her, taking his time to secure the bag and oats in a place where she couldn’t get to it. She was tricksy, especially when it came to oats. But she also knew that those were a night time snack, something that he wouldn’t just give out unless they narrowly avoided death and allowed her to have something to chew on while he fought off a panic attack.

He slid the reins over her head, patting her cheek as she opened her mouth to allow the rod to go in. Once she was fully outfitted, he lead her out of the stalls and closed the doors behind her. He swung up onto her back, and settled in. Gathering the reins, he clicked his tongue and set off down the dirt path that lead into town. The castle wasn’t too far, if he traveled nonstop today he’d be able to make it before midday tomorrow. Talk to the king, get the job done, and they’d be home before they knew it.

~*~*~*~

Reaching the castle, Torren almost turned back around. He’d heard the rumors, how King Richard the second seemed to… overcompensate. The walls around the kingdom were large, but not as large as the damn castle. It towered over everything, almost as if it was a direct challenge to the gods. It was also very, very ugly with its pale brown coloring and lack of windows.

Showing his summons slip to the guards at the gate, he slowly made his way into the kingdom. It was another thing that irked him about King Richard, he was a man with “purist” beliefs. No race other than human was allowed past the walls without a proper invite. There was no trading, or apprenticeship allowed between humans and others. Which raised another red flag about this job offer, why would a king who hates his kind specifically ask him to complete a task for him.

Torren tightened his fist on the reins as he watched the crowd wearily. He was going to die, either here or on this job if he wasn’t careful enough. The townsfolk weren’t bad, they looked more open to him than the guards did, but he didn’t dare interact with them. Not even to the young children who waved at him for the guards were watching him just as closely as he was watching them.

Reaching the palace, he climbed off of Sweetie’s back and handed the reins over to the stable boy, a warning look in his eyes. If they mistreated her, he would rip all of their spines from their backs and beat them to death with it. Torren turned to look at the guards that approached him, back stiff as he towered over them. It was almost laughable, how they escorted him into the palace.

The inside of the castle was just as ugly as the outside, the same beige walls, no decorations whatsoever. Whoever helped the king design this deserved to be publicly executed. Knights stood at every corner, some seemed to be standing at random places the further they got in. It was almost as if someone had just told them to pick a window and stand. The guards increased as they drew closer to the throne room, all of them standing at attention as they stopped in the middle. The guards beside him stood at attention, hands over heart and back straight.

One of the guards announced the arrival of the king, everyone else following in salute. Torren looked up in expectation for the infamous King Richard the Second. Looking, looking, out of confusion, his gaze drew down to the floor when an irritated cough sounded.

Oh, oh gods…

Torren had to physically bite his tongue as he took in the sight of King Richard the second. No wonder the castle was so large and hideous, this man barely stood past a humans waist. He recalled an old nickname for the king, one that was immediately outlawed in the towns surrounding his kingdom. Little Dick Jr, the bane of all of Pufort.

Torren knelt in front of the tiny king before any more offense could be given. And he had a lot to give at this moment in time. “Your grace,” he said stiffly.

“Rise,” came the nasally response. “Do you know why I've called you here, orc?” Dick Jr asked once Torren towered over him again.

“No, m'lord.”

“I am a king without a queen, I'm basically a laughing stock in all the kingdoms!” Torren was willing to put money on it, that wasn't the reason why, but he knew better than to say that. “But there's a princess, locked away in a tower due east. And she will be my bride.”

“And you wish me to retrieve her?” Torren asked for clarification. That didn't sound so hard at all.

“Yes, it's a week’s journey all together, the roads are treacherous, but I'm sure you're no stranger to that,” again, nothing dangerous. “And then of course there's the active volcano and lava surrounding the castle and the dragon guarding it.” Ah, there it is.

“I see, that doesn't sound too difficult for me,” Torren said, lying through his teeth. He could handle bandits, he could even sneak past a fucking dragon. But lava? An active volcano? That was something he'd never experienced before and wasn't too keen on the idea.

“Perfect, we will discuss your payment when you get back. Godspeed, I wish to be married by the end of the month!” Little Dick Jr clapped his hands twice, alerting the guards that he was done talking to the half orc.

Torren bowed his head and turned to make his leave. If he walked fast enough, he could get out of this city by the time the king reached the stairs. The guards had attempted to follow him out, but after they had to literally run to keep up they quit. It wasn't like he was going to do anything anyways.

He eyed the gods awful bust of Dick jr. and contemplated tripping into it…

No, no. Not yet.

~*~*~*~

If there were small miracles, Torren may have found one. Sweetie was in perfect condition when he had retrieved her, granted she had been touched by the stable hands and she made sure to voice her displeasure by biting his shirt and nearly throwing him into a mud pile. Sweetie was a sweetheart up until she had the wrath of the gods placed upon her.

They had made their way out of the kingdom as fast as they could, and Torren was grateful that the guards didn’t give him an official escort out of the kingdom. Though, he had noticed several guards watching him carefully if he lingered too long in an area. Sure, there was traffic, but he was an orc, that was an unforgivable crime don’t you know? He half expected to get harassed when he passed by the front gate guards, but he was uncomfortably surprised to find that they did not.

Oh, he was going to die on this mission. He should have gotten his affairs in order, who was going to take after Sweetie when he was gone? His brothers were half a kingdom away and his neighbors didn’t know he existed. Now, he was realizing as he traversed the hills, it was a bad time to be a hermit. Sweetie was smart though, maybe she’d find a new hermit to adopt and go about her life.

Okay, maybe he should focus on traveling and not his soon to be untimely demise.

Torren had just crested the hill overlooking the neighboring village when a shout came from his right. Looking over, he was wary to see an elf making his way over on his own sturdy steed. The elf seemed friendly enough, though most elves he met rarely stayed friendly. He paused and waited for the elf to approach, keeping a hand on his dagger just in case.

The elf wasn’t bad looking, kind of handsome really if Torren was being honest with himself. Tall, a bit taller than most of the elves he met, golden skin that would make King Midas jealous. Long brown hair braided back in practicality rather than aesthetic, though it was a tad too ornate for pure practicality. He was dressed in simple leathers, with elven embroidery up around the shoulders, partially obscured by the cloak he wore.

“Hail, friend! I see you came from Pufort, a fine accomplishment for those of us considered too “unpure”,” the elf gave a laugh as he settled beside Sweetie. “Gavril, merc for hire,” he introduced himself as he put his hand out.

“Torren,” Torren said as he took the hand and shook it once. A mutual respect was given to the elf, some mercs stuck together, especially those around Pufort. The land wasn’t known for tolerance, mostly the guards fault, and so it wasn’t common to see many mercs who weren’t human. “What brings you to Pufort?”

“Ah, but the king, of course!” Gavril gave the man a bright smile before his smile dropped. “Better to talk here than in the village. Less ears.”

Torren felt his heart drop at the comment, dear gods was this the end? He hadn’t even made it out of Pufort yet! Gods, the amount of fun his brothers would have when they find out that he died in Pufort of all places…

“I can see you’re freaking out, fear not, I am not going to say “long live Dickie”,” Gavril let out a laugh, and Torren didn’t appreciate it, like, at all. “He hired me a month back, and when I disappeared he chose to hire you.”

“And I should believe you, why?” Torren actually did believe him, it was just the dick move that Dickie would pull. But he was a distrustful man by nature, and so grilling the elf it was.

“Why would I lie? Being here in of itself is a death sentence for me if one of his guards spots me,” Gavril shrugged. “No, I felt as if the job was far too… strange for me to complete without the full story.”

“And that story was?” Torren raised a brow as he shifted on Sweetie, who snorted in warning as she grazed.

“The princess, she’s apparently the daughter of the neighboring kingdom, Aster. I did my research and went to them with the information on Richard. They don’t like the idea of an unsavory man such as him “rescuing” their daughter in such an unhonorable way,” Gavril leaned a bit as his voice dropped. “I was riding by, coming back from another business that I had to attend, when I happened to have heard he had another summons, I thought it was only fair to let you know about it all.”

“And what, exactly, are you hoping to inform me of other than the princesses misfortunes?” Torren leaned slightly in despite himself.

“I’m to meet another fellow, a minotaur by the name of Jardor. He was the princess's guard before she was imprisoned so she’d be more trusting of us. Her parents hired me to take her Aster instead of Pufort, and their offer is extended to any other mercenary hired by Richard.”

“And this is legitimate? How do you know they won’t cast you off to Richards' wrath once they have their daughter?”

Gavril nodded as he sat upright. “A fair question, I, myself, found myself doubting it. However, I asked around their former employers and found that they were actually credible. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but if you are curious you are more than welcome to come with me to meet up with Jardor.”

“And where is he?” Surely a minotaur would be noticeable around a place like Pufort.

“He was smart enough not to come to the welcoming land of Pufort,” Gavril said with a grin. “He’s in Halder’s Rest in the neighboring village, Stonewall, I believe.”

“And you just happened to be riding by Pufort and saw me?” Torren raised a brow as he leaned back.

Gavril let out a soft laugh. “Fair enough, I might have been lingering around to see what the little man’s reaction would have been.”

“How? You couldn’t have been allowed in the city.”

“It’s actually fairly easy to sneak in if you find the really dumb guards,” Gavril said with a smirk. “If you talk fast and use big words to explain away things, they simply just let you in.”

Torren shook his head, “very well. I’ll come with you to this Jardor, but I make no promises that I will join you.”

“Of course,” Gavril gave a bow to his head. “Now, what do you think are the odds that these kind folk will allow us to rest in their undoubtedly comfortable inn?”

“‘Us’?” Torren looked at the elf with furrowed brows. Surely he didn’t think they were going to travel to Halder’s Rest together, did he?

“Yes, ‘us’,” Gavril said with a raised brow. ��Surely you didn’t think I’d just abandon you to these unwashed masses, did you?”

“Yes?” Torren wasn’t sure who he pissed off up there, but he was fairly sure he didn’t deserve this kind of forced upon companionship here.

“Oh, my friend,” Gavril gave a sympathetic pout before clapping Torren on the shoulder. “You’re stuck with me.”

Gods help him.

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the good folk were not willing to rent out their plentiful rooms to two distinguished gentlemen like them. So, seeing as the guards started gathering around them once they exited, the duo had opted to camp out on the spacious planes outside of the village. Pro: it was a nice night out with the stars shining bright; con: there were wolves and they very much were eyeing them as a snack.

Luckily for them, the wolves found a rather unfortunate deer and left them alone for the rest of the night. After that, the sleeping got easier, though Torren still kept a hand on his dagger under his pillow. And if he noticed that Gavril did the same with his staff, well, he wasn’t going to be one to talk.

The morning was a tense affair, Gavril had cooked and while it smelt delicious Torren wasn’t one for accepting food from strangers. But his mother also raised a gentleman with manners so he ate anyway. And it pissed him off more that it was, indeed, delicious in all honesty.

They set off not long afterwards, mounting their steeds and making their way to Stonewall, a village that was a good two hours away. Both Sweetie and Torren did their best to ride ahead of Gavril and his steed, Farren, however the two seemed to be professionals Thorn in his Side, for they stayed right on his heels, humming a stupid little song.

Torren really pissed off some of the gods.

But, by the Grace of the gods, they finally made it to Halder's Rest with minimal spats. Or, "character building" in Gavril's mind. The vast difference between Aster's civilians and Pufort's was easily spotted. Where an inhuman was hard to see even just passing through in Pufort, it was hard to not see them in Aster. From vendors, to guards, to just a milk maiden lizard girl.

It felt… welcoming.

"Halder's Rest is just down the road,'' Gavril said as he led Farren though the bustling roads.

Torren let him take the reins, not sure if he should run or not. He had no idea really what sort of situation he was walking into. One kingdom was going to be pissed off, that was for sure. Either Pufort or Aster, and he wasn’t sure which one was better. Aster wasn’t known for its military, sure it had it, but no one had seen it in action in well over a hundred years. They preferred to stay diplomatic in negotiations, and somehow it’s worked so far. And yet, he feared what Aster would do if King Richard the Seconded got his grubby little hands on their daughter.

But another part feared what the King would do to him if he failed to deliver the princess. He wasn’t the first mercenary, and even Gavril admitted he was cheating death when he hung around Pufort waiting for Torren to leave. Pufort was well known for their military power. King Richard was always willing to fling a fleet at a neighboring kingdom, or hell, even his own people, if he felt there was even a hint of offense at him and his legitimacy of his rule.

He should run, Torren realized. Like now, right now-

“Hey, there he is!” Gavril said as he pointed at the minotaur guard that stood outside the inn with his arms crossed. “Jardor!”

Jardor looked up with irritation on his face. He was big, even for a minotaur and just as uniquely colored. Most minotaurs that Torren had come across were either brown or black with white colorations. But Jardor was a multi-colored minotaur, white based but he had russet, black, brown and gray mottled on the skin that was exposed through his armor. His horns were wide and angled high, making him more imposing.

“Stop calling attention to us,” the guard hissed as they drew closer. “You could jeopardize the mission.”

“Oh, please,” Gavril rolled his eyes. “There’s only milkmaids here, it’s not that dangerous.”

“The king could find out and send his fleet,” Torren hissed at the elf.

“Exactly,” Jardor snorted as he shifted his stance. “Our success depends heavily on stealth. Until we deliver the princess back to the capital of Aster, we are not out of the weeds yet.”

Gavril sighed heavily but nodded. “So, are we heading out or is there other business we need to attend to first here?”

“We’ll head out, most of the pleasantries can be exchanged on the road,” Jardor said as he led them to the guards stables and pulled his draft horse out of the stall. As he mounted, Torren surveyed the town. It was a nice place to be, he supposed. But he still preferred his privacy.

“I don’t believe we met,” Jardor said to him as they set out. “I’m the Princesses’ guard, Jardor Stoneskin. And you?”

“Torren Azorrn,” Torren said finally. “Just got hired from the King-”

“-and poached from me once he left,” Gavril interjected with a cheerful grin.

“Yes,” Torren agreed with a heavy sighed.

Jardor snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he sighed. “I apologize for him, he was supposed to go home and then make his way back here. Though I am glad he did make the detour, I doubt I would have survived the trip with just the two of us.”

Torren found himself smiling as Gavril let out a gasp of mock hurt. “It is nice to have a more level headed company,” he agreed as Gavril mumbled to himself as the two men snickered.

“I will have you two know, I am pleasant company!” Gavril said as he steered his horse next to Sweetie.

“Of course, my friend,” Jardor said evenly with a placating smile. “Of course.”

“Why did you have to return home, anyways?” Torren asked with a raised brow at the elf. He had only mentioned business arrangements, but going home was an entirely different thing “Was that the other business you mentioned earlier?”

“It was,” Gavril said defensively. “I have people at home who were waiting on me, had to let them know I’d be back for good later than anticipated.”

Torren nodded and left it at that, he wasn’t going to judge people for their personal affairs, he knew that if he was still in contact with his own brothers he’d be doing the same. They lapsed into a silence after that, save for the occasional direction change from Jardor the other two were content with just following him. Finally, Torren found himself speaking up. “Jardor, if you’re the princesses’ guard, then why aren’t you with her?”

“Ah, there are two princesses in Aster, the one who is heir to the throne and the second in line should anything happen to the eldest sibling,” Jardor said. “The princess I served was the second in line, though she loathed the whole thing,” he added with a soft smile. “When she was...cursed, I was ordered to stay behind and help protect her sister.”

“So she’s cursed?” Gavril asked with a frown. “You didn’t mention that.”

Jardor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, yes, she’s cursed,” he said stiffly. “The sooner she comes home, I’m sure she’ll be closer to breaking that curse.”

“Isn’t true love usually the factor in those curses?” Gavril asked with a furrowed brow as Torren studied the minotaur.

“Yes, but that is not the case here,” Jardor said with such confidence neither mercenary knew what to do with that.

“So what is this curse?” Torren asked. “Why was she moved to such a remote location, surrounded by lava and a dragon?”

“It was considered necessary by the Throne, it was not my place to question it,” Jardor said stiffly.

“So you did disagree,” Gavril noted. “Which means it likely isn’t a curse, and that makes me so much more intrigued, don’t you feel the same, Torren?”

Torren didn’t comment. But he did note that the minotaur was clearly hiding something, and that made him all the more wary of this job. He should have just stayed home.

“Must you grate on my nerves, elf-boy?” Jardor snapped as he looked at the elven mercenary.

“Ah, elf-boy is actually my younger brother, a cute lad but not nearly as annoying as me, elf-man,” Gavril said with a grin, but it dropped quickly in the wake of a grim expression on his face. “Look, we can deal with a dragon, and even the lava. But if she’s cursed, we need to know exactly what we’re walking into.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Jardor promised, and the two men relaxed just a bit at that. The situation was weird, but Jardor radiated a trusting aura that it was hard to suspect they were walking into a trap. At least for Gavril, Torren always assumed there would be a trap involved when he traveled with others. “Just let me take the lead when we get to the tower, a familiar face will help her.”

“How long has she been locked away?” Torren asked finally.

“Seven years,” Jardor said with a weary look in his eyes, and deeper down, pain. “It’s high time for her to come home.” He nudged his horse, kicking her into a faster gait as they made their way out of Aster and into the wildlands. “That said, we’re a three day journey away from the tower, it’s in a remote part of the country that few travel by. We shouldn’t face any resistance before the volcano.”

“Well then, let’s get ourselves a princess,” Gavril said with a smirk at Torren as he sent Farren barreling after Jardor.

Torren sighed heavily and patted Sweetie’s neck, “let’s get this over with,” he said to her as he nudged her side gently, a gentle permission to run with the other horses, a permission that she gladly took as she galloped next to their two companions. In just three days, he’ll be fighting off a dragon surrounded by molten lava just to rescue a princess. That was the only certain thing he knew about this mission, if there was a curse, if they could get her to Aster before the King found out, if he still was getting paid.

Gods, was he still getting paid?

~*~*~*~

[eye of the tiger blasting]

Jardor kept the lead, forging ahead when Gavril decided that bickering with Torren was a Lovely Idea. Both men, both adult men, were constantly five seconds away from getting into a slapping fight that escalated when Gavril, a four year old apparently trapped in a twenty eight year old's body, claimed that Torren had hit him.

Jardor just let it happen when Torren really did hit him.

Setting up camp was a horrid affair, all three of them were skilled in camping, but those skills had varying degrees. Jardor could put up an excellent tent, but the sleeping cot kept getting tangled and eventually he just laid out on the mess with a stoic resolve. Torren was an expert in putting out his sleeping cot, but his tent kept falling out on one side and eventually he just moved Sweetie over to help keep it propped up with the promises of getting her an extra big bag of oats. And Gavril would put his tent up, but in the process of laying out his sleeping cot the tent would fall. When he’d try to put the cot up first, the tent would fall and he’d have to find his way back out again. And so, in a moment where his remaining two brain cells bumped together, he tied his tent up to the branches of the tree keeping it up and elevated while Torren glared at him from the inside of his lopsided tent that was beginning to smell of horse.

The morning didn’t help anything either.

Torren, used to years of cooking and traveling by himself, had woken up early and made himself, and only himself, a nice breakfast. The other two, woken by the pleasant smell of bacon and the heavenly sizzle of fresh eggs being cooked, came out of their tents with growling stomachs and crushing disappointment when they spotted Torren eating it all by himself. Jardor was disappointed, Gavril was dismayed. The two had to fend for themselves, Jardor splitting a piece of jerky with the elf as they glared subtly in Jardor’s case, and blatantly in Gavril’s.

When they finally set back out again, it was in lesser spirits than the day before. They were less than a day away, according to the smell of sulfur that got increasingly heavier as they traveled on. Gavril could see why no one had rescued the princess prior till now, the lands around the volcano were barren, the roads treacherous by hungry wolves. It was dangerous even for the three of them, he couldn’t imagine a merchant or a lone adventurer braving this land.

Well, maybe Torren.

But everyone else would be fucked.

Jardor let out a soft laugh up ahead and slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill. He glanced back at the two catching up, a light shining in his eyes as he grinned at them. “We’re here,” he announced as the tower, tall and magnificent, loomed below. It wasn’t exactly just a remote tower, Gavril could make out some crumbling structures of a once beautiful palace. He wondered, hoped really, that it was still stable and safe for the princess, surely her parent’s wouldn’t have dumped her into this hell hole if it was unstable. He paused, actually, he’s met some gods awful parent’s. It was a high possibility. But that was neither here nor there, the tower was still far enough away, but they would arrive there within the hour if they paced themselves. They still couldn’t spot the dragon, and none of them were willing to go head on against a fucking dragon.

Torren opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the plan was in case the dragon reared its head. But before he could utter a single word, a horn sounded from behind them. The three turned on their steeds to watch as a troop of soldiers made their way towards the tower, banners flying high, and armor glittering in the sunlight.

Pufort.

"Fuck," Gavril said with pursed lips.

Fuck was right.

~*~*~*~

Princess Amirah was absolutely, and positively bored. She had nothing else to paint, unless Harold suddenly changed their mind about her painting his scales. She’s run dramatically through the hallways a dozen times this morning, and really she wasn’t feeling it for a thirteenth time. All the books have been read, a countless amount of times. At this point she could quote the books and she did, constantly, to Harold as they cleaned their teeth from their meal each night. Harold never spoke as to whether or not they enjoyed it, but she assumed they would have put an end to it by now if they didn’t.

She sighed heavily as she paced her room, paint brush in hand as she tried to figure out a new canvas. There was still some room on the window sill, maybe even the dresser if she painted small enough. She paused by the open window, the smell of sulfur no longer bothered her as she breathed it in. She barely remembered the smell of fresh, clean air. Or the sound of bustling streets, the maids coming in with sweet hushed words, her mothers hugs…

Amirah shook her head and smacked her cheek chastisingly with her paint brush. No, no thoughts like that, she’s survived seven years without those things, she can survive many more. In all honesty, she probably could leave. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her of all the princesses in this unholy tower. They were more likely to go for the skinny blonde overlooking the ocean than her. Which was fine, she was the second born princess of Aster, her sister was always considered the prettiest, the fairest, the princess that all should aspire to be.

Amirah made it her mission to defy that expectation. She hated the princess duties that her mother and sister had forced her to attend. She hated the expectations that were expected of her as the second in line to the throne. To marry a neighboring kingdom, to secure an alliance between the two. To have their heirs and continue the bloodline. It all made her squeamish honestly. In a perfect life, she wouldn’t mind marrying and settling down on her own terms with someone that she truly loved. But she didn’t have the perfect life, she had her mothers expectations and her sister's legacy.

She was honestly safer in the tower than back home.

A strange sound filled the air, and a frown pulled at her lips as she looked off outside. She adjusted her glasses as another horn sounded, a horn of all things. Why would a horn be here, who was blowing the damned thing. They were going to wake Harold up!

Leaning out the window, Amirah let out a gasp as banners crested over the hill. Banners that belonged to Pufort, the kingdom ruled by King Richard. In the distance, she spotted three men charging ahead of the group, and hope glittered in her heart as she spied familiar horns. Was Jardor really here? She didn't know who the other men were, or what she assumed were male honestly she knew some beefy female knights, oh gods was Clarissa here? That would truly make her day.

Before she could speculate, however, a loud roar filled the air and shook the ground. Clinging to the wall, Amirah looked up in slight fear. She knew that roar, and what it meant. A challenge, anyone who wanted her, had to go through them.

May the Divines bless their poor souls.

#exophilia #orcs #elves #minotaurs #orc boyfriend #elf boyfriend #god i havent posted in so long i forgot how to tag akdjskjrfjew #ok #this is gonna be a SLOW BURN POLYCULE #with a fourth wheel who is there for the clusterfuck #guess who is who this week on WHEN WILL HUFFLES CONTINUE THIS #lmao #kidding I have chapter two in the works bitches #my mental health is questionable but waking up at 4 am now has it merrits #you aren't ready for the concoctions i have in store #edited this bc I forgot that google docs doesn't trasfer to tumblr like it does on ff.net #my writing #sfw

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wendystales · 3 years

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Seven)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Six ※※※※※ Chapter Eight

The sun and heat were plaguing Los Angeles today. Even in the shade, there was no truce. Despite the unbearable heat, I didn't want to miss a beautiful day locked inside the house, so I decided to accompany my best friend in a photoshoot today.

We parked in front of a one floor house, in fact, it looked more like a shed with a very simple appearance. We entered through the next door, avoiding the reception. As soon as we enter, I see a huge space with several colorful panels scattered, in addition to other objects of scenery and lighting.

When Noah closes the door, a round of applause begins, who are applauding? I see a team of about twenty people lined up and among them, the only one I recognize is Kyleen, who wore a belt with several makeup brushes.

Without understanding, I start to applaud everyone, including the twins. Is it their birthday? Everyone is staring at us, so I approach Leah slowly.

“Who are we applauding?” I ask confused.

“You, duh!” she smile.

I look at everyone, confused. Why are you applauding me? My cheeks start to heat up and I don't know what to do.

In a few seconds, the noise stops and I feel compelled to say something. I get closer to the team, noticing the smile that everyone had on their faces.

“Uh, I don't even know what to say. Everyone should already know about amnesia, however, I would like to say that regardless of my memory, I am very grateful to all of you for all the assistance. If I really am that amazing model that I've been seeing, it's definitely due to you. Thank you so much, for everything and for now, for this reception and all the affection.” I bow a little, ending this speech project, awkwardly.

One by one, everyone comes to hug me. It is so strange. I, the ‘invisible’, not popular, who always stayed in my corner, had become a famous model. Today several people wanted to meet me, say hello or just say ‘hi’. It is strange, but it is good.

After all the reception, I follow Leah and Kyleen into the dressing room, watching my friend prepare for another photoshoot while Noah heads for a meeting.

Because of my condition, all the rehearsals and campaigns that I would do were passed on to Leah, so this month she had a very busy schedule. I make a face when I watch her trying to get into a rubber-like jumpsuit. Her hair was well armed and her makeup was loaded, her eyes were full of gloss. And I like this?

“You are very lucky that I love you and you are in this condition. Because I hate these revolutionary photoshoots.” she snorts, trying to go to the table and put on the huge pearl earrings.

“And I like?” I still question without accepting.

“No, but you always do. God knows why.” she stands upright, taking a little walk, looking at herself in the mirror. “Shit, the panties are on my ass.” she complains, leaving the dressing room and trying to get her panties out of the way.

“My God, Leah!” Kyleen scolds, trying not to laugh.

In the studio, I sit next to Kiki, who between one photo and another was going to touch up Leah's makeup. I am amazed to see my friend shine through the flashes. She makes it look so easy, stopping in several different poses, staring at the camera without laughing, with those big models faces.

“She is amazing.” I comment with the owner of the colored hair beside me, who agrees with me.

After several photos, again I go to the dressing room watching my friend now exchange the jumpsuit for a loose dress. As soon as the new makeup was done, Kiki stops behind me, pasting her face to mine.

“What do you think about doing makeup?” the sparkle in her eyes and Leah's smile in the chair next to me, show me how much they want it.

“Promise you won't make that eye full of gloss?” I ask smiling weakly, noticing the brightness in her eyes grow as she promises.

I lay my head on the back and close my eyes at the command of my friend. The whole process is fast and Kyleen does a very light and simple makeup, just hiding some scratches that I still have on my face and neck. In the eyes, a pink tone makes only the contrast deepening my concave and a beautiful eyeliner, which I would never be able to do.

Taking advantage of the fact that I was still in her hands, Kiki takes advantage and braids the top of my head, leaving the rest loose, making me feel like a princess.

“You are amazing.” I compliment her, giving a long kiss on her cheek in thanks.

I hold her hand, heading back to the studio to follow the rest of Leah's photos.

“So, Marnie, what do you think of some pictures?” Brandon, the photographer, comes towards me. I look at him, scared and saying nothing.

I seek help from my friends and even from other people on the team, but no one helps me. In fact, everyone motivates me.

“I don't know, I'm not dressed up and I'm all hurt yet.” I try to hold on to excuses.

“It does not need to be tidy and we will not publish anything, it is just for you to see yourself and maybe adapt again.” he offers the idea.

I face everyone again, not finding help. I close my eyes, giving up. I reach out to Brandon who lets out a loud celebration and takes me over to the square box Leah used to occupy.

Brandon guides me through the poses and looks. I feel my cheeks warm and I'm sure I'm looking like a tomato. I try to release myself with each photo and command they give me, even release a song to try to relax me, but in the end I start laughing.

In the back of my mind, I hear Ashton's voice, giving Brandon one of my orders as "more cheeky", "more mysterious" and even snarling, which only disturbs me. As I walk my eyes through the lights and camera, in my mind another memory comes back.

I can see Ashton sitting on the chairs with Kyleen, "trying" to help me. I just watched Brandon waiting for him to tell the Australian boy to shut up, but he just smiled. I continue my hard work of ignoring my friend, but it comes to a point where he is snarling and scratching the air, which breaks my concentration and makes me laugh.

I end up smiling with the memory still running through my head. In the end, the photos were beautiful, mostly I left laughing, a spontaneous and contagious laugh. My laughter closes when I see Luke's tall figure enter the studio.

I hold my breath with each step he takes, approaching us. He pulls up his sunglasses, showing his pale blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Leah asks while getting stuffed with Cheetos.

“I came to pick up Marnie.” he turns to me, giving a closed smile. I widen and run my eyes over to my friends, not knowing what to do.

“Me?” I question after a bug time.

“Ah yes! Your mother called me saying she was stuck at work. She wanted to know if there would be any problems if I took you to the doctor. I said no.” he shrugs.

Once again, I look back at Leah and Kiki, who are just as stuck as I am. Before I open my mouth, Luke's focus turns to the screen next to me, looking at the pictures I just took. I watch your eyes smile.

“They were beautiful.” I smile to him, when he looks back at me.

“Thanks.” I let out the air again. “Well, if I don't get in the way, that's fine. We can go.” Kyleen brings my bag, handing it to Luke. I say goodbye to everyone, I thank Brandon for the photos and slowly leave with him.

I hold my breath again when he closes the door next to me. What am I doing? Getting stuck in a car with Luke days after we broke up? What's my problem? I embrace my broken arm, closing myself.

The drive way to the hospital couldn't have been worse, or whatever. We were quiet all the time. In fact, I stayed. Luke even tried to pull something up, but I couldn't follow, I just crashed. When we arrived, I almost jumped out of the car and followed as fast as I could inside, leaving him almost alone.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

I notice from the corner of my eye, he is approaching while I check in.

“Are you okay?” I look confused at him when we sit down. “The doctor, are you feeling well?” he points to my leg and arm.

“Ah yes! He asked me to come back just to confirm.” I smile to ease my behavior so far. “I just hope he doesn't order a blood test.” I whisper, already feeling a cold wave run down my spine.

My body freezes even more when I see Luke's hand cover mine and give it a little squeeze. I open my eyes wide and Luke realizes by quickly letting go of my hand, apologizing.

“You have been facing a tsunami of confusion and you are doing well, a needle is nothing close to this.” he jokes in an attempt to relax me and break the strange climate.

“ I'd much rather have my amnesia and all that mess than the damn needle.” out of the corner of my eye I notice Luke trying not to laugh and I end up smiling. I take a deep breath, grabbing his hand, as I look across the hall, falsely interested in the ceiling lighting.

During the fifteen minutes we sat there, he did not let go of my hand. I was rambling about that scene and about us. Not remembering him was killing me. Every day I had at least two to three memories, not to mention the things I read, which leads me to stay with the imagination. However, Luke was still the only person I still couldn't remember and probably the most important.

Even with the diary, videos on social medias and photos. It only sank my hopes of going back. I mean, I know I can let my guard down and try to fall in love with him again, but that alternative is not yet an option and it scares me because it has no attraction.

“May I ask you a question?” I begin, in an attempt to break that unbearable silence between us.

“Sure, as many as you want.” Luke answers, super willing.

“What's the nickname? Why does everyone call me M&Ms?” Luke opens a smile, trying not to get a laugh.

“Well, on the serious side of it.” I wrinkle my forehead. Is there a serious side to this? “It's your initials. Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, M - & - M.” it’s strange how good it’s to hear my name in his mouth.

“And the less serious side?” I have my suspicions, but I want to confirm.

“That you know! You are crazy about M&Ms. I remember countless discussions we had and then you forgave me because I gave you M&Ms.” my cheeks heat up in shame. Damn obsession with chocolate.

“That's why I wasn't surprised with that thing that separates them by colors in my kitchen.” Luke gives a laugh.

“I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to buy something so useless.” I look at the blonde, totally offended.

“It is not useless, it is for them to stay organized and none feel bad that I am eating one color more than another.” I defend my point, facing the hallway again. I strange the silence and look at Luke. “What?”

He keeps his lips tightly pressed. He wants to laugh. Your eyes carry an amused glow. Maybe he was just teasing me, because he would know that I would say something like that. After all, he knows me better than anyone.

I ignore him again. Still holding hands, we waited for the doctor to call me. Every second that passes makes me more anxious. I start hitting my leg on the floor and I want to poke my nails, but a hand is caught between his fingers and I don't want to disturb him.

For a few seconds, I look at Luke. His head against the wall and his eyes closed, make me more relaxed to analyze it without shame. I admire his long hair falling in several curls, finding himself with a very short beard, but that looks great on him.

I lower my gaze to a stop on his neck. Did we… already have sex? I look at his chest with more concentration, wondering how many times I must have passed my hands over there. I take a deep breath and risk lowering my gaze. Oh my God, did I already suc…

“Do you want to ask anything more?” I jump in the chair, startling me with his voice. Luke carries a mischievous smile as he looks at me.

Oh my God, he saw me looking at him and at him. Oh my God. Is it possible to die for being more ashamed!?

“No, I'm fine.” I turn my face to him. “I am fine!” I say softly. I hear your little laugh and I want to bury myself on the floor.

For my total bad luck, it takes the doctor a few more minutes to call me. And during this long and endless wait, I decide not to ask Luke any more questions. In fact, I decide not to look him in the face, just in case.

Seriously Marnie, did you let him catch you drooling on him!?

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offers himself, when the doctor finally calls me.

“No! It´s okay. I believe it is quick.”

“Good afternoon, Miss McGonagall, how are we?” the doctor gives a friendly smile.

Bad.

I take a deep breath, ignoring my mind, no matter how much we're here for it. I follow the consultation by answering the questions he asks. According to him, I seem to be reacting very well, which makes him believe that my amnesia is only temporary.

The doctor asks me to sit on the stretcher and look at my foot. The first time I saw my foot, it looked like a baby watermelon of so swollen it was. But in the last few days, it had improved a lot, since I was following the recommendation to always let it rest and on ice a few times.

“Are you still in pain?” he questions looking carefully.

“No. Will I be able to take it out?” I question hopefully.

“I think so! Let's do a test, you can come back without the boot, but if you feel pain or any discomfort, put it on immediately and return here, okay?”

“All right!” Unfortunately I would have to come back with the boot, because I didn't bring another shoe.

“I will order some tests too and as soon as they are ready, you can return for us to analyze.” I quietly watch him take the orders, feeling my stomach churn when I see the word blood. Shit.

I try to distract myself and turn my head to whoever is outside. Luke. I look quickly at the door, as if I can see him through the wood. I let out the air, still not knowing what to do about it.

I wish I could snap my fingers and see everything magically resolve, or just sleep and wake up when everything is in place.

"Would you like to ask something, Miss McGonagall?" the doctor leans on his desk looking at me attentively.

My face heats up and I smile nervously. I don't know if that would be something that my doctor could help me with, but it costs nothing.

“Is it possible to forget someone forever? I mean, I've had memories with basically everyone who lives with me, except one person. Would it be possible for my brain to delete it?” he scratches his chin surprised by my question.

“Well, first of all, do you want to remember this person?” I positively nod. “Do you really want to or try to convince yourself that you want to, but, deep down, you are not ready for that yet?” he raises an eyebrow. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

I want to remember Luke and everything we live in, however, I am also afraid that even with the memories back, things will not be as they were before. I already screwed things up with Luke once, I don't want to screw it up again.

This is too horrible, because he is sweet and I do not believe that I would act like him if the situation was the other way around.

“Miss McGonagall, the brain is still a new field for medicine. It behaves in different ways for the same problem, so everything that involves it is studied and closely monitored. There is nothing to prevent this ‘block’ on a certain person from being created by you. Even if you say out loud that you want to remember, your body knows what you really want, because, even involuntarily, you transmit signals to your brain, maintaining the block.” it makes sense.

“I believe that I am only afraid, as much as I want, fear prevents me.” I say low.

“Can I offer you some advice?” I look at him in surprise, before agreeing. “Talk to that person. Be clear and sincere. Say you are afraid, but despite them, you want to remember everything. Help comes from those we least expect.” again, he gives a sympathetic and compassionate smile.

“Thank you very much, doctor.” I thank before I leave the office.

I approach Luke slowly, who gets up with a smile.

“All very well?”

“Yes, I finally got rid of the boot.”

“And why do you look like that?” he looks at me suspiciously.

“We need to talk.” I announcement tense. I see him frown, confused. “I'm going to need your help with something.”

“Marnie, you're making me worried, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“Everything is fine.” I assure him. “It's about amnesia. It's about us.”

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