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icefire149 · 3 years

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Tearing Apart At The Seams

(Read on Ao3 | Story warning: temporary major character death)

Overwhelmed was an understatement. Despite spending the car ride with her stare glued out the window in silence, Mary felt like an exposed nerve that had been thrashed with steel wool. If she closed her eyes she could still see things as she knew it: a house with a yard, laughter bouncing off the walls, toy cars on stair steps, hope in the mirror reflection. Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.

Everything was wrong. The last thing she remembered was running into Sam’s nursery, but now, here she was standing in 2016 because God’s sister said so. Her chest felt incredibly tight. The man behind the steering wheel – no, Dean. She had to keep reminding herself – was peeking at her out of the corner of his eye every so many minutes.

She still didn’t know what to make of him. He knew the right stories. He was the right age. But….how could she swap the Dean she tucked into bed hours ago for this hardened stranger?

“It won’t be long,” Dean said, breaking the silence. “We should only be about a day behind Sam and Cas.”

Mary nodded, feeling chilled. The thought of seeing what became of her baby was horrifying. He wasn’t even a toddler yet, and now…..

Her arms ached for her baby, but she couldn’t break now. It wasn’t safe yet. Turning to look at Dean, she asked an unexpected question. “Who’s Cas?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his expression softened. He laughed, “He’s….Cas. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back more comfortably in his seat. “He lives at the bunker with me and Sammy. That’s where we’re going. It’s home.”

“The….bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s tone was fond. “It’s a long story.”

“So it’s an actual bunker?”

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yup.”

The rest of the drive went by without another word. Mary honestly didn’t know what to say. For the most part she just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake back up in 1983.

“Home sweet home,” Dean mumbled as they parked in the garage.

Mary was stunned by the collection of cars there. She actually felt a spark of excitement at the possibility of taking one of them out for a spin.

Slowly, she followed Dean inside. He nearly bounced down the steps, he was eager to get to where ever he was heading.

“Sammy!” Dean called. “Cas!”

Dean only took a few steps into the main room before whipping around on his heels. "Something's wrong," he said pulling his gun out. "Stay put."

He quickly disappeared down a hallway at the other end of the room. Mary didn't stray too far. What she could see was enough. Books and papers were scattered on the floor. There were drops of blood near the tables. The toe of her boot connected with an odd silver blade.

She picked it up, studying and turning it over in her hands. It wasn't cold like metal usually was. There was a warmth that felt like something more than what was left from whoever held it last. It was strange, but Mary wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean hadn't trusted her with a weapon, but fate did. Her fingers curled around the hilt; she wasn't letting go until Dean gave the all clear.

When she turned around, one of the walls had some kind of sigil drawn in blood. She shivered, already assuming the worst.

Home was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be a home. The memory of blood twisted her gut. She lost her parents at home. She lost John....her babies..…

A voice deep down in her core screamed at her to run. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Spinning, she saw a man stalking towards her.

"Is he still here?" His voice boomed, and Mary couldn't stop her eyes from instinctually glancing at the door Dean went through.

She didn’t know enough about this place to form a strategic plan. How many exits, if any, were down that hallway? Was Dean on his way back? Could he hear her if she ran or screamed?

Catching herself, Mary glued her stare onto the man. His steps slowed, but his piercing blue eyes were fixed on her as well. The way he moved, she realized, he was aiming to go past her around the tables. Mary started side stepping slowly to meet him step for step until there was only a large table between them.

She could tell that his mouth was moving, but all Mary could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The longer she looked at him, the more convinced she was that he wasn't human at all.

Swallowing, her own spit went down like a rock. The air in the room started to crackle like it was electrifying. The man-shaped thing slammed his hands on the table, and she jumped. Her eyes darted again towards the doorway.

The image of her Dean with chocolate smeared cheeks blended into the stranger who tapped his fingers on the steering wheel hours ago while he quietly sang along to the radio under his breath. Stepping backwards, the heel of her boot alarmingly slid an inch. She didn't need to look down to know it was blood. Her lungs refused to take another breath. She could practically see Sammy swaddled in his baby blanket and his chubby, pink cheeks. The tightness in her chest felt like it was moments away from popping like a balloon.

The creature's mouth was still moving. He leaned forward. Hands still on the table. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue, and all Mary could see was the moment her dad’s eyes flashed yellow. She threw the blade.

It hit, burying deep into his abdomen and knocking him staggering backwards. The creature ripped it out, blood running down his hand like ribbons tying around his fingers. His hand shook, sending the blade clattering to the floor.

Mary stepped around the table, eyeing the thing cautiously. She could see that he held a hand against his stomach, but there was also a blue-white glow emanating from the wound. A shiver crawled up her spine, making the hair on her arms stand up. There was not a single monster that she could think of that bled both blood and light.

The creature fell to a shaky knee. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was visible in the light as he tilted his head up. He made no move to pick up the blade, but his eyes bore into her challengingly.

She couldn’t understand him. Mary’s eyebrows pushed together, studying him. He was going to let her kill him. Whether it was a trick or not, she couldn’t risk wasting this opportunity. Mary snatched the blade up, and drove it deep into his chest.

The only fight he gave back was the hard push he gave her, sending her flying across the room. Mary couldn’t see him from where she landed because of the table, but the room filled with that blue-white light. It was blinding, and the air felt like it was being completely sucked out of the room.

Mary opened her eyes to see scattered papers lightly floating down to the floor. The air had settled and she gasped for a deep breath. The strange light was finally gone. She got herself up, and hesitantly crossed the room.

Her hip cracked painfully into the table the moment she realized what she was seeing burned around the body: wings. “Dean!”

The word left her lips before her brain even caught up that she just called for her son. The next thing Mary knew, she was standing in the doorway Dean left through. Her hands trembled, but her mind kept circling around the fact that she called out to her four year old for help.

“Mom?” A rough voice called out far away. On coming footsteps echoed down the hall. “Mom!”

Her heart sank. Of course it was the Dean who walked away with a gun aimed high. “There’s….there’s a body in here,” Mary’s voice shook.

Dean sprinted down the hallway with eyes wide with fear. “Where is it?” he demanded.

Mary nodded in the direction of the table, and Dean pushed past her. His gun hit the floor with a loud crack. He froze in place half way to the body.

“Dean?” Mary stepped forward to see his jaw hanging open. Dean’s bottom lip trembled, and tears started running down his cheeks. She suddenly felt painfully cold.

Dean surged forward, dropping to the ground next to the body. Carefully, he pulled the blade out and tossed it aside.

Mary came closer, but at the same time continued to keep her distance. Her hands clutched the lip of the table.

“You stupid, son of a bitch,” Dean muttered quietly. He placed a shaky hand on the creature’s chest, closing his eyes like he was still trying to feel for a heartbeat. A sob tore through him. His fingers curled in the drying blood and the fabric of the white button up shirt. “I could go with you… you dumb bastard. You didn’t even fight back, did you?”

Dean pulled the body into his lap, cradling him. Gently, he brushed some of the hair sticking to the creature’s forehead back. Dean’s hand pressed the creature’s head into the crook of his neck. Tears started pouring, and his whole expression crumbled in silent despair.

Finally, Mary could see traces of the son she rocked for hours during his earaches and colds. She could see crystal clear the day Dean’s little hand slipped from hers at the supermarket. Not once was she willing to admit it, but she never knew how much time had passed before she realized that her hand was hot and clammy only from the warm day. When she found him, he was sitting with the potted plants bawling his eyes out. That night he’d confessed that he thought he’d never see her ever again.

Here Dean was decades later, but Mary recognized the way his face was falling apart. It was no different.

“Dean, who is that?”

Like he just realized that she was there, Dean’s eyes snapped over to her. His mouth quivered. “He’s my…..” His grip on the creature tightened.

“He’s not human,” the words slipped from her lips. She was still finding it hard not to focus on the massive wings burned into the floor.

“He’s an angel,” Dean snapped forcefully. “Castiel….”

"Oh." The word punctured her chest. "He's Cas."

Her knees tried to buckle, but Mary's knuckles were white from holding onto the table so tightly. She'd only been here for a day, and she did this.

She couldn't look away. Dean rocked like he did the day he tore his knee open in the street. He clutched onto the angel for dear life like she did when she held John's lifeless body.

An icy feeling crept up her spine. The glazed look in his eyes never left her. As much as they disagreed and marched in different directions, her hand always ached for his. It throbbed now like it was seeking a lifeline that it was never going to find again. Especially now with angel blood crusting under her nails.

She needed space. Air. Something. Mary’s legs wobbled under her, but she pushed on ahead keeping a hand on the wall when she disappeared down the hall way. She needed the images cycling through her head to stop.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the kitchen. The air felt cooler and less stifling. The hum of the refrigerator was familiar enough she could close her eyes a moment, leaning against the counter. She needed to get her head screwed on right.

There was nothing she could do for…...now, and if he wasn’t responsible for the mess and Sam’s disappearance, who was? Where did he go? Dean needed a clear head.

First things first, she needed to scrub her hands. The blood wasn’t too stained into her fingertips yet. A deep exhale left her slowly as the water ran clear down the drain. Glancing around, she spotted a pale yellow hand towel in reach. She dried her hands, stopping only to get a better look at the bee embroidered to the bottom of the towel. It was unexpected, but well made.

Tossing it aside on the counter, Mary turned the water back on. She leaned forward, ducking her head into the sink and taking a long drink. Once she felt more alert, she realized that Dean, like it or not, he was going to need some water.

Her hand shook carrying the glass while she retraced her steps. Mary wasn’t sure what she would find when she made it back. Holding her breath, she found Dean in the same spot. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his mouth was moving silently.

“Are you….praying?” Her head crooked to the side as she stopped with in reach of him. She felt antsy to be standing this close to the wings.

Dean opened his eyes. “Chuck’s put him back together before,” his voice croaked. She held the glass out, but he shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s taking so damn long to answer. I don’t know where he went with Amara.”

Mary placed the glass on the table. She heard that name before. “Amara’s the one that brought me back, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Mary crossed her arms. “How do we find Sammy?”

Dean’s mouth curled into a snarl. “I’ll find them, and they’ll pay for this.” His knees cracked and shook, but Dean stood up. He refused to let go of Cas.

Mary shot forward to help him, but the look in Dean’s eyes made her freeze. She watched him hobble out of the room. With one last look at the wings burned into the floor, she followed after him.

Gently, Dean laid the body down on a bed in what looked like an infirmary. He brushed some stray hairs presumably back into place and hesitated there, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet melody of music started playing.

Dean dug his hands into Cas’ jacket pockets until he found a small rectangular device. He stared at it forlornly. “No. No No….” His voice fell to a pained whisper as his eyes darted back to the body.

“What’s wrong?”

“The kid’s calling,” Dean’s voice broke. “H-how do I tell her….no.” He tapped something on the screen and pocketed the device. Rubbing his neck, he argued, “I’m not going to upset her when he’ll be back….He’ll be back.”

“He has a child?” Mary’s voice was practically non existent.

“It’s complicated.”

Silently, they walked back the way they came and Mary didn’t fail to notice the way Dean refused to look in the direction of the wings. He pulled out a chair and sat.

Every muscle in Mary’s body felt twitchy. Closing her eyes, she didn’t move from where she stood in the room. She longed for home.

Why was she even here? For what purpose? From the very moment she laid eyes on this...Dean, nothing felt right. And that made her feel worse. She loved John, and Sammy, and Dean. Looking at this man made her feel like she was about to combust.

And that’s not his fault. She knew that, but Mary also knew that she literally was plucked from 1983. This was wrong. It didn’t matter how much this Dean wanted her here. She needed to go home.

Opening her eyes, she saw Dean leaning an elbow on the table. Sternly, his eyes were coldly fixed into space. Another one of those odd rectangles, she assumed now was a phone, he had it pressed against his ear.

“Crowley,” his pain was masked well. “I-Yeah, I know. Not dead. Long story. Get Rowena and meet me at the bunker now.” He hit the screen and let the phone slide a ways on the table.

Mary eyed him carefully. Dean hid his face in his hands, leaning over the table. “So….” She felt utterly useless while Dean lowered a hand to meet her stare. “What now?”

“Just give it a-”

And suddenly, there were two new people in the room. Mary stared at them in shock while the woman smacked the man’s arm with her bag.

“There better be a bloody good reason-” The woman growled until she finally turned to see Dean at the table. “How are you alive?” She rushed forward and placed a hand on his chest. “Where’s the bomb? I did not mess that up. My work is impeccable.”

Dean slapped her hand away, and she rolled her eyes before focusing her attention on Mary. The man did too, but his mouth twisted into a sickening smile.

He turned his attention to Dean. “Now how on Earth did you manage to bring dear old mummy back?”

“Amara,” Dean answered. He pointed his thumb in the woman’s direction. “The bomb’s gone. Chuck and her worked their crap out. Then-” His eyes turned to Mary. “-she decided to leave me a gift and they left.”

The man took a few steps towards Mary. Observing her far too closely. “So…why are we here? Celebration perhaps? I’m afraid to tell you that we already dug into the booze shortly after we last saw you.”

The woman didn’t move from where she stood, but she did take in every detail of the room that she could see. Her posture stiffened. “Where’s Samuel?”

“That’s why I called-”

“We don’t know,” Mary answered, surprising herself. “We got here and….” She gestured at the room around them. “It appears that something happened. Sam’s gone.”

The man rolled his eyes. “So why are you moping around? Who else did you manage to piss off recently?” He made his way over to the shelves where he knew there would still be some bottles stashed. “You wouldn’t suppose Lucifer limped his way back from where ever Amara threw him?”

Dean shot out of his chair. His pleading gaze locked onto the woman. “Can you track Sam?”

“I suppose,” the woman started. She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand why you needed me for something that simple. I’m not an on call service, and Fergus can work a spell that elementary.”

The man didn’t even look at the bottle he plucked off the shelf, and he took a big swig. Glaring, he turned on his heels. “Mother dearest, my day to day schedule is a teensy bit busy. Remember? Being a King is a full time job!”

Mary couldn’t handle another word. Her head felt like it was spinning. “Dean, who are these people? How did they just...appear in the room with us?”

“Oh, sorry sweetie. I’m Rowena.” The woman stepped forward with a smile Mary didn’t trust for a second. “And...that’s Fergus.”

“Crowley,” he barked. “I’m the King of Hell, and that’s my rotten, bitch of a mother.” His eyes flashed red. “It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance. Dean and I go way back. We-”

Dean’s phone clocked Crowley right in the temple. The phone clattered into the floor and Crowley looked mildly annoyed, rubbing the side of his head. “I get that your Moose is missing, but what the hell was that?”

He started crossing the room towards Dean, but the toe of his shoe stepped on something that rolled under it. He looked down, and his cool demeanor cracked. “Where’s Castiel?”

Dean turned to Rowena. “Can magic resurrect an angel?”

Several emotions – confusion, grief, fear, and curiosity – flashed across her face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever had reason to try.”

“But can you swing that kind of mojo?”

She reached forward and lightly patted Dean’s cheek. “My dear, I can swing anything, but it’d be new magic. Old magic, new technique…..something that’s never been done before. It’ll take time.”

Dean waved towards the bookshelves. “The bunker’s resources are yours.”

Rowena’s eyes lit up, and she gave Dean another pat. “I like you so much more when you and your brother aren’t trying to shackle me, or kill me.”

She bounced off towards the shelves, but stopped the moment her eye caught the wings. Rowena frowned, “He really was a pretty bird. It would have been nice to see his wings….in another circumstance.”

Ignoring that, Dean pointed at Crowley. “Spell. Now.”

After that, Mary could only hear static. It wasn’t until she saw Cas, bloody and dead, in the infirmary that she even knew that she left the room.

"It's horrible, isn't it?"

Startled, Mary flung around on her heels ready for combat, but the room was still empty. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. "Who's there?"

There was a click of a tongue behind her. "You Winchesters can't ever just let yourselves be happy?"

Mary saw a woman in the room with her now, standing next to the bed where Cas laid. Worried lines creased her forehead. Slowly, her eyes met Mary's.

"The name's Billie."

"What are you?" Mary could feel the skin on the back of her neck prickle.

"A reaper."

A small, pained laugh escaped Mary. Of course. Another monster.

Ever since she could remember, her parents prepared her for the world. Nothing was glossed over or simplified. The ways of hunting were straightforward. You save people. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Sons. Friends. Loved ones. They needed protection from the things that disrupted the natural order. It was a line drawn in the sand, and one she couldn't afford to touch.

And yet, she never planned on giving her boys that lesson. Any of it. She feared to ask that question burning in her gut: when did that change?

Her mind circled back to the strange mother son duo. And why were her boys involved with demons, and witches, and......angels?

The reaper's stern expression softened. Almost pitiful. "You don't belong here."

Mary crossed her arms, discretely eyeing the room for possible weapons. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to put out the fires. Someone has to try, at least."

"I don't understand."

"You," Billie answered simply. "Amara made a mistake."

Her heartbeat quickened. From fear or hope, she wasn't entirely sure. "Could you send me home to my boys?"

Billie frowned.

"I don't understand," said a different voice. And then a brunette woman materialized.

Mary took a step back. Mentally, she wasn't sure how far she could run before she could reach help.

Billie held her head up high. "Amara."

The woman looked at Billie strangely. "Why are you interfering with my gift? I wasn't expecting to over hear this when I was checking in."

"It was a poorly thought out gift." Billie pointed at Mary. "You can't steal a soul from Heaven and expect the world to continue down the same path. There are consequences."

There was all hot wave and then all bitter tang on Mary's tongue. She thinks she bit it. Billie's words were echoing in her head. Dean looked at her the way he did because........she never saw past 1983, didn't she?

"A small price to pay for a gift this sweet," Amara answered simply. "Losing her tore a hole in Dean that he has never been able to mend. He can now."

"He can't," Mary whispered. Her whole body was shaking. It took all her focus to keep hearing Billie and Amara's voices.

Amara's eyebrows pinched together. "I'm still learning to understand humans. I need more to follow."

"I'm not a mender." The words rolled off her tongue. "I was raised to hunt, and kill, and hide...." Her gaze fell to her hands. She could still feel the blood under her nails, weighing her down. "I tried to be different. To be normal, but I can't stop destroying, and losing, and failing everyone I love."

The look on Amara's face softened. She sighed, "The world is far different now I'm told. I did this for both of you. A second chance. Don't you want to know your son?"

"I know my Dean," Mary snapped. Her hands curled into fists as tears beaded in her eyes. "He's 4 years old with freckles on his arms. He likes to spin in circles while he sings. And he cries when he can't find the birds he can hear chirping outside his bedroom window."

There was a quiet pause while Mary took several deep breaths. The thump of her heart made her chest ache. She sniffled. "I know....I know across this bunker is.......he's a stranger. He's been through hell and back and I badly just want to run the other way when I see him. I want my boys. I want to go home."

"Do you understand, yet?" Billie spoke to Amara. "Humans aren't your toys. They're unpredictable. Complicated."

"I think I'm starting to understand," Amara said like she was only partially considering it. She crossed over to the bed. Her head tilted, and she frowned. "What happened to the angel? Dean's attachment to him was immeasurable. Terrifyingly powerful." Her lip twitched.

"Like I said," Billie answered. "There are consequences. It wasn't his time, and yet, he's gone." Her gaze slid over to Mary. "Her time ended decades ago, and yet, she breathes."

Amara looked at Mary carefully. "Why?"

"I didn't know what he was. I acted on instinct."

"And now your son is going to do something cosmically stupid to fix this."

Mary blinked. "He's gonna try, but it's not like he's gonna get anywhere. His plan A was prayer."

Billie's stare rolled over to Amara. "Consequences."

“Can’t either of you bring him back? Then no drastic measures would be taken,” she argued. Mary’s eyes rested on Cas. He might even know where to find Sammy.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “And that’s how we got here in the first place. Tearing holes in the natural order of things.”

“It would soothe things,” Amara said. “Get us past this snag.”

“No.” Billie’s gaze moved between the two women. “This goes far beyond poisoned gifts.”

A chill settled into Mary’s bones. “Yellow eyes. Bringing John back so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Billie smiled. “Precisely, and since then your family has torn hole after hole.”

Mary’s jaw clenched. “No.” The flash of yellow burned into her memory made her stomach revolt.

Sympathetic, Billie sighed. “You’re not the only one who made deals, and-”

“Let me be the last.”

“How so?” Amara asked, curious.

“I...I think I understand what you were trying to do,” Mary began. “But, I’ve only caused more pain being here. I can’t make him happy. I….I-” Her mouth trembled, trying to find the right words. “I’m barely holding myself together. From the moment you put me here….I…” She looked at Billie. “You’re right. I don’t belong here. I want to go home.”

Billie crossed the room, stopping directly in front of Mary. She held her eye. “There’s no home to go back to. Only memories. If you stay, this is it. This is home with the men your boys became.”

Mary’s breath got stuck in her throat. “Then my decision is made for me.” I can never go home. “Fix what I broke, please.” Her gaze moved to Amara. “Give Dean back his heart.” And then it slid back to Billie. “And I’ll go with you. Let things continue the way they were meant to.”

“And what stops your boys from tearing more holes in the future?”

Mary sighed, trying to understand the angel her son carefully laid in this room. She couldn’t imagine how they found each other, and how her son came to care about him so completely. Hopefully, he could forgive her one day. Both of them. “Tell Dean, that if him or his brother decide to play god and mess with the fabric of things again…..the price will be to kill the person they love most. The price will be blood.”

Billie arched her eyebrows. “Your boys are good at surprising me, but I think that’ll suffice.”

Frowning, Amara stepped forward. “Are you sure? Dean will be upset.”

“His feelings will pass, but my discomfort won’t if I stay. I’ll never stop wanting to claw my way back to my boys. And that’s not fair….to the men that they are now.” She hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “And he’ll never forgive me for killing….”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Would it be alright if I visited your Heaven one day? I’d like to understand, and...I’d like to meet your boys.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what Amara meant by ‘your Heaven’ but she nodded.

Amara smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Billie asked resting a hand on her arm.

Exhaling, Mary nodded. Surprisingly, the reaper’s touch was grounding. This was the calmest her mind felt in years. “Let’s go,” she said, closing her eyes.

Behind her, Mary heard a baby’s cry. Turning around, she was in her kitchen. The afternoon sun warmed her hair and her son stared at her from his highchair. Her mouth curled into a smile. “Sammy, there you are.”

#spn #supernatural #mary winchester #my writing #destiel #read notes on ao3 for more info / my thoughts on this one #forgive me my loves

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed - Episode 02

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

(Masterpost ) (Previous Episode) (Next Episode)

Donkey Riding

way ho and away we go, donkey riding donkey riding way ho and away we go, riding on a donkey

Wei Wuxian and Apple are doing their best for the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

Xiao Zhan had trouble riding the donkey sitting side-saddle, so the Department of Questionable Practical Effects made him a fake leg to wear while riding regular style.

Can you spot it? It’s very hard to spot. It is very convincing.

Simple Pleasures

Wei Wuxian takes his time wandering up the nearest mountain, and half of the cultivators in the land also wander up this mountain because...Night Hunting! The cultivators are hot and thirsty from walking because they forgot that they all know how to fly.

Wei Wuxian relaxes by a well and listens to people stanning him.

Also

I’m going to say it: Wei Wuxian never met a drinking vessel he couldn’t blow.

Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

The actress who plays A-Yan is named Zhang Linran. She probably has studied dance since she was 4 and now she gets her big break which turns out to be feeding an apple to a donkey. So let’s pause for a second to look at how beautifully she moves.

Reunions are Awkward, Part 1

Wei Wuxian meets up with one of his family members and it goes super well.

I...like Jin Ling? He’s much less of a douchebag than his dad, his uncles Jin, Jiang, and Mo (the three stooges), and every damn one of his Jin cousins. He’s genuinely brave (his Dad’s primary good quality) and his hair is on fleek. He’s still a whiny diaper baby, but I like him.

(much more after the cut!)

Then Jiang Cheng shows up, looking fine as hell and radiating peak arrogant-prick energy.

When he discovers that ‘Mo Xuanyu” stuck a piece of paper to Jin Ling, he tells the child to literally murder him. Excellent uncleing! A+++++ would recommend.

“In fact, literally murder anyone who uses Yiling Laozu’s tools, like talismans, lure flags, or spirit compasses - basically murder everyone in the Lan Clan plus those other fanboys we saw coming up the hill. Then get out there and make some friends, goddamn it!”

These nets full of cultivators on this daytime night hunt are the only time we ever see anything in a net during a night hunt. In fact dudes constantly go night hunting and the only prey we ever see is rock lady, murder turtle, and a couple of rag mops in the lake.

You Are Not Qualified to Speak to Me

Also radiating arrogant-prick energy on this occasion is Lan Wangji. He has been using pettiness as a weapon since long before he met this Jiang Cheng turkey, and he *brings it* when Jiang Cheng tries to have a conversation with him.

Letting your eyes wander everywhere except to his punchable face while you ignore his passive-aggressive questions? Quality work.

Dropping a silence spell on his child and then letting your own child explain it to him? Golden.

Lan Wangji is never ever going to forgive Jiang Cheng for what he did on cliff day, and his silence here is as pointed as an ice pick. I suspect the last words Lan Wangji actually spoke to him were “Jiang Wanyin, stop it,” sixteen years ago.

Jiang Cheng is actually the bigger person in this particular interaction, visibly mastering his temper and telling Jin Ling to take his medicine.

Reflecting

Wei Wuxian hangs out by a beautiful river and hallucinates for a while. River Jiang Yanli is nurturing and River Jiang Cheng is pissed off, so there are no surprises there. River Jiang Cheng thinks that Wei Wuxian is a promise-breaking douchebag. He’s not exactly wrong.

Courtesy of convenient gossiping cultivators, Wei Wuxian discovers that the 16 year old arrogant kid from the Jin clan who his brother from the Jiang clan has custody of is actually and quite obviously Jin Rulan.

Well fuck I guess now I care about something, that’s inconvenient.

Needing to help parent the child of the sister who parented him is what draws Wei Wuxian fully into his new life.

As soon as he has this realization, Apple comes back from roaming around, and never gives him any trouble after this for the rest of the story. Which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

Wen Gravesite

Does Wen Ning hang out here because it’s where he and his (dead) people came from? Oh great, now I am sad.

Judging by all the leaves on this grave thingy I’m going to say that this grave tender dude is, ah, not very good at his job.

Get him, Jingyi!

I feel like maybe we all focus too much on how Lan Jingyi is so hilarious and sardonic and not enough on how he is a such a biscuit.

Soul Grass

As mentioned in the previous post, Chinese spiritual concepts don’t always translate well into English. Soul grass? Sure, why not.

This is where Wei Wuxian’s Sherlock Holmes brain starts to work, although he still doesn’t remember really basic stuff about Dafan Mountain. Dying and changing bodies is rough on the old neurochemistry. This creates more opportunities for flashbacks, however, and if there’s one thing The Untamed deffo needs more of, it’s kissing flashbacks.

Temple Statue

Presumably grave-tender dude is also in charge of clearing away spiderwebs at the temple, because it’s not getting done.

Jin Ling walks into the temple blaspheming at full volume.

Since this isn’t a Greek story, he isn’t immediately struck blind for this. Then when he wishes for the statue to come alive, it obligingly does. Everything’s coming up Rulan!

Wei Wuxian shows up to rescue all the kids by throwing talismans at the monster which does not tip anyone off to who he is.

Baby Cultivator Babysitting

Lan Wangji chills out in the cultivators’ pavilion with Jiang Cheng and their mutual hate boners.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian forgets all about his nephew and turns into cool professor guy, explaining the basics of soul-eating to the baby cultivators and gleefully encouraging their fear of Hanguang-Jun’s punishments.

Because the Lan babies are good filial children they are super respectful and engaged with this random adult who is lecturing them. They also - like their own Hanguang-Jun at their age - see and admire Wei Wuxian’s intellect. It’s easy to forget how extremely smart Wei Wuxian is, because of how extremely dumb Wei Wuxian is.

Lan Jingyi suddenly figures out Wei Wuxian is not crazy.

Bis. Kit.

Then Rock Lady shows up and Jin Ling sticks 6 arrows into her while Lans Jingyi and Sizhui stand around not bothering to draw their swords.

I see a lot of comments about the bad effects in the statue sequences but I think Rock Lady is all right. The figure animation is decent and the lighting is no worse on her than on everything else in the scene. Her hair is nice, for a rock person.

Admittedly I just finished watching Guardian which has CGI monsters so bad they may have injured my retinas and possibly also my DNA, so the bar, for me, is pretty low. Rock lady clears it with room to spare.

Note: Wei Wuxian’s flute playing does zippity towards controlling the statue. Not sure what his plan was here.

Wen Ning Kicks Ass

Now we get to meet Wen Ning, who appears to be a stone-cold badass. Later we will discover how hilariously inaccurate that assessment is.

While all versions of Wen Ning are delightful, this version of Wen Ning is also...strangely attractive? He’s got a Patti-Smith-Horses-Era vibe here, instead of his more usual lost-baby-dork vibe. And his dreamy “I have nails in my head” expression is intriguing.

I mean, he’s not a total snack like zombie Song Lan or pre-zombie Song Lan or blind Song Lan or post-zombie Song Lan, but this look is a good one for Wen Ning, is what I’m saying.

Reunions are Awkward, Part 2

Lan Wangji, who has 99% already recognized Wei Wuxian because of the haunted sword and the fierce jawline and beautiful neck and tiny tiny waist, is summoned by his flute playing as inexorably as the Ghost General was.

Jiang Cheng also recognizes Wei Wuxian and goes into full beatdown mode, thwarted (silently) by Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian attempts to preserve his incognito by sassing Jiang Cheng in as sibling-like a manner as possible.

Hanguang-Jun’s Pro-Ghost Agenda Has Been Clear for Some Time

This Jiang/Lan fight is hilarious when you consider the implications.

Macroexpression vs. Microexpression

Mo Xuanyu brought Wei Wuxian back using sacrifice summons, a dark ritual invented by Wei Wuxian that he, most likely, did NOT show to Lan Wangji back in the day. So it’s a pretty safe bet that Lan Wangji doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian was gifted a body, rather than stealing one.

when your brother turns around, you must whip him you will never live it down unless you whip him

When Jiang Cheng lets loose with Zidian, it’s not just because he’s angry. He’s using purple power to force Wei Wuxian’s ghost out of the body he’s apparently possessed. And Lan Wangji instantly STOPS him from doing that.

Clan Leader Jiang: this person has been possessed, against their will, by an evil ghost

Future Chief Cultivator Lan: Counterpoint: I am banging the ghost

Flashback Time

Welcome to your 30-episode flashback!

Once I used to join in Every boy and girl was my friend Now there's revolution, but they don't know What they're fighting

Let us close our eyes Outside their lives go on much faster Oh, we won't give in We'll keep living in the past

Road Tripping to Summer School

Gosh I’m looking forward to younger, kinder, more relatable Jiang Cheng.

...prick.

Incidentally, until now this episode didn’t know that Jiang Cheng has smile muscles, and neither did the person who glued his wig on for him.

I Like Rabbits

Here we have our first rabbit in a large collection of rabbit iconography that appears in The Untamed.

Instead of sending everyone to the Wikipedia page for Tu'er Shen I’m going to take this opportunity to rec the short film Kiss of the Rabbit God by Andrew Thomas Huang (tw: blood, tw:body-mod cutting) which you can read about and watch over at Nowness.com

Particularly if you are a queer person of Chinese heritage, check it out.

So. What the fuck are these? Are they food?

Are they made from wax? Or corn starch? or pig intestines?

Wei Wuxian runs off to get laid drunk and Jiang Cheng grumps about it. Jiang Yanli reminds him that being free is a Jiang Clan Rule, so really Wei Wuxian is following the rules by not following the rules. Does that mean he’s not free? My head hurts.

Jiang Cheng: yes but grump grump grump

Jiang Yanli: Nothing bad will ever happen because of A-Xian’s choices, trust me

Outro

Wei Wuxian faint tally: one Caught by: the cold hard ground

Soundtrack: 1. Donkey Riding by Great Big Sea 2. Living in the Past by Jethro Tull 3. Whip It by Devo

Fic prompt: Lan Wangji’s internal monologue while he sits in the pavilion with Jiang Cheng

If you write a fic from this prompt and want to share, please post a link in comments!

Bonus: Wang Zuocheng, macro-expression king

Episode 03 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

#the untamed #fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed stills #my gifs #my stills #restless rewatch #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan jingyi #c-drama #bl drama #the untamed memes

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 2

part two: a comprehensive study of how far you can push a cowboy before he breaks

summary: you continue to try and break jack’s ego, but nothing seems to be working - especially when you have to play a married couple, and his observant tendencies begin to break your confident facade instead

song for this chapter: my friend by hayley williams

ok so this wasn’t gonna be out until december 1st but someone who donated to my ko-fi asked for part 2 and...i couldn’t resist. this also touches a little more on the reader + eggsy’s relationship and it’s background. enjoy!

- jamie

series masterlist

You had to give to the the Statesmen - the apartment they had leased you was fucking nice.

It struck the balance between modern and homely, complete with a bath tub big enough for the whole damn agency and a bed to match. You knew that they had money, but not this much. The Kingsmen were wealthy but the Statesman put them to shame. It was a lifestyle you were happy to get used to, especially on the first morning. You’d woken up not long after 6AM - your body was still working on British time, after all - when it was still dark outside. The navy blue of the sky was pouring through the large windows, and paired with the remaining city lights, it lit up the bedroom in a cerulean glow.

Blinking under the distant blue smoulder, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed. The bedroom itself was about the same size as your apartment back home and man, it was something you could have easily gotten used to. A bathtub the size of a swimming pool? Don’t mind if I do. A bed big enough to roll to your heart's content and not fall out? Fuck yeah. It made you wonder how rich some of your new colleagues were. You had noticed that Tequila drove an unusually expensive sports car.

You frowned when you noticed that there was something heavy sprawled across your feet. It wasn’t necessarily in the bed, but rather strewn across the duvet. You rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh.

‘Fuck’s sake, Eggsy!’ you raised your leg, kicking him front under the covers. ‘Why the bloody hell are you in here?’

Your friend suddenly jumped awake, almost falling off the mattress as you kicked him again. ‘Ow! Ribs!’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘You haven’t tried to share a bed with me since we were ten!’ You tossed a pillow at him. ‘So I’ll ask again - why the bloody hell are you in here?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ He grumbled.

Your frown softened, and you let out a sigh. ‘Have you been having nightmares about Galahad again? Because Merlin said he was making strides towards getting better-’

‘- That day from the church is still ingrained in my head.’ Eggsy cut you off, tucking his knees into his chest and under his chin. ‘It keeps playing over and over.’

It was something you sympathised with. Working as a Kingsman brought good days and bad days, but the latter would stick in your mind a thousand times more. You’d learnt to live with it by that point but then again, you were easier at separating your emotions from your professional life. You had a good rapport with your colleagues - minus the doofus at the foot of your bed, who might as well have been an annoying brother - but you tried not to become attached. It only made it harder when you lost them,

‘Time, Eggsy.’ You leant over the bed to give his arm a squeeze. ‘You need time.’

‘It’s been almost a year-’

‘- recovery isn’t a race.’ You firmly interrupted. ‘And healing isn’t linear, for you or for Gala - for Harry.’

You’d become so accustomed to codenames that they felt personal. Harry was Galahad, and Amish was Merlin. You’d never called Roxy anything other than Lancelot. It just didn’t feel right.

‘I hate when you make sense-’

Eggy’s rumbling was cut off by the sound of the front door and the fall of footsteps. You immediately leapt out of bed, tearing your gun from the bedside table. Pointing it out in front of you, you slowly kicked open the door and crept out in the hallway, weapon leading the way.

‘Morning sunshine-’ Whiskey stopped in his tracks when he saw the pistol aimed in his direction. ‘Well that ain’t a very warm welcome is it, Percy?’

‘Percy?’ The words rolled off of your tongue with a tone of disbelief. Admittedly, the new nickname shouldn’t have been your first concern when you were a) wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas and b) pointing a gun at your new colleague, but priorities didn’t apply in this situation.

‘Short for Percival!’ Eggsy called from the bedroom.

‘Oh, I do apologise.’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Was I interrupting something-’

‘- Gross!’ You exclaimed. ‘No!’

‘Hey!’ Another call from the bedroom. ‘You would be lucky-’

You cut your friend off by slamming the bedroom door. ‘What do you want, Whiskey? It’s six in the fucking morning.’

‘And yet you’re up and pointing a gun at my head.’ The cowboy reasoned, complete with a small shrug. ‘Want to put the weapon down, pretty lady?’

Growling at the use of another nickname, you threw the gun onto one of the side-tables. That was when you realised you’d sprinted out the bedroom in cartoon pajamas, only to come face-to-face with Whiskey, who was in his usual leather jacket and hat. Frankly, you should have slapped it right off his head. That would have taught him to come bursting into your apartment at the crack of dawn.

‘Maybe knock next time?’ You suggested, stalking through to the kitchen. ‘Especially considering that it’s not even light outside. A little bit predatorial, don’t you think?’

‘If you’d checked the schedule I emailed you, you would know that we have to be in the field in forty-five minutes.’ Jack shot back, leaning against the counter. ‘You should check your phone more often. I thought that most of your generation had their cell-phones glued to their hands.’

‘Okay, grandad.’ You snorted. His dark eyes followed you as you darted around the kitchen, piling together a cup of coffee on autopilot. ‘What’re we doing in the field?’

‘Recon.’ He said. ‘One of Calahan’s contacts has been spotted working a jewellery stand down at 30 Rock.’

‘Okay, give me thirty minutes.’ You tossed a piece of bread into the toaster.

‘Dress...touristy.’

‘That is not touristy.’

Usually, Jack Daniels would have been the last person to object to a woman wearing a dress and heels, but you were supposed to be blending in with crowds, not standing out. He clearly hadn’t got the memo that you didn’t do casual - not in a professional sense, at least. In some way, you were matching, because you too were wearing a leather jacket. It was a staple in your wardrobe.

‘Would you rather I have stayed in the turtle pajamas?’ You glanced across the table at him, thinning your eyes.

‘Tourists don’t wear Christian Louboutins.’ The cowboy muttered.

‘I wear Christian Louboutins.’ You shot back. ‘But points for recognizing the brand.’

‘Here.’ Jack swiped a t-shirt off of a cart as they passed by, thrusting a fifty in the vendor’s hand. ‘Wear this.’

He shoved a t-shirt into your hand; it was about ten sizes too big for you with ‘I ❤️ NY’ blazoned across the front. For a minute, you thought he was kidding, but Jack’s serious expression barely faltered. You tried to counter the look, quirking your brow as if to say yeah, good one.

‘I’m serious, Agent. We can’t blow our cover.’

‘What cover?’ You frowned. ‘You never said anything about a cover.’

‘Our guy works for a jewelry vendor.’ Jack flashed a grin at you, before pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket. ‘We need to get inside and get footage of the shop for the agents coming in tonight. These babies will live stream it right back to Ginger HQ.’

‘So I have to go jewelry shopping?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘We are going ring shopping, Mrs Daniels.’

‘You’re not serious.’ Your eyebrows shot up.

‘I think we would make a very attractive couple.’ He retorted. ‘A bright-eyed Brit falling in love with a cowboy, their feelings for each other spanning the Pacific-’

‘- Atlantic-’

‘- ocean.’

‘Whatever.’ You pulled off your jacket, yanking the t-shirt from his hands and tugging it over your head. The shirt ended up being longer than your dress, and with your tights and heels it worked in a way that it definitely shouldn’t have. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.’

‘Incidentally, that’s something you would also say if you were my wife.’

You responded again with a groan, elongating it slightly when Jack wound an arm around your waist, as though somebody had just yelled action!

How hard could it be? You’d been undercover as part of a couple before - admittedly, that had been with people you’d already had a rapport with, and ones who didn’t drive you up the wall as much as Whiskey. Eggsy was a close call, but having been your best friend for the better part of twenty years, it was easy to convince people you were a real couple. It had been a little awkward with Merlin and you had almost flat out refused to do it with Galahad, but there hadn’t been so much at risk then. If this recon went well, it could lead to leaps and strides in your bigger mission. Finding Calahan, proving yourself worthy of a promotion and eventual world domination (in a hero kinda way).

‘Let’s go over the fine details.’ You murmured to him, glancing around as you entered the shopping strip inside 30 Rock. ‘Where did we meet?’

‘London. I was on a business trip.’ Whiskey quickly replied. ‘How did I propose?’

‘In front of the Eiffel Tower.’ You said. ‘And where do we live now?’

‘Kentucky, but we’re in New York because we plan on getting married here.’ He said. ‘You ready?’

‘Let’s go.’ You linked your arms with his, plastering on a fake grin as you entered the jewelry store. ‘My glasses are recording this straight back to HQ.’

‘Hey there, cowboy!’ Calahan’s contact greeted you immediately. He wasn’t what you’d expected - the man was decked out in a suit and tie, complete with a dodgy looking spray tan and teeth so white they could probably reflect the fucking sun. ‘And pretty lady.’

It had been bad enough when Whiskey called you that. But this guy? Gross - and Jack couldn’t help but notice how you tensed up at the nickname.

‘Watch it, pal.’ Jack joked. ‘That’s my fiancee you’re talking to.’

‘And I assume that’s what brings you in today?’ He flashed a grin at you. ‘I couldn’t help but notice she doesn’t have a ring.’

‘See if you can move closer to the case by the fire exit.’ Ginger’s voice came over your earpiece.

‘These ones here look pretty!’ You suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jack by the arm and yanking him in the direction that Ginger had requested. The cowboy let out a surprised yelp as you did, stumbling slightly as you dragged him across the store.

‘Perfect. Thank you.’ She quietly said over the line.

‘Any in particular catch your eye, Miss…’

‘It will be Mrs Jones when we get married.’ You plastered on the biggest shit-eating grin that you could muster. ‘And that one in the top corner is very pretty.’

‘That’s one of our most expensive rings.’ The jeweler’s grin was bigger than yours. ‘Is your event going to be as big? You know...price wise?’

‘Oh yeah!’ You chimed in, barely giving Jack a chance to think. ‘We’re renting out the Plaza Hotel. I’m wearing a vintage Emanuel dress inspired by the Princess of Wales and our honeymoon is three weeks in the Bahamas.’

You just had to ramble for a little bit longer whilst Jack looked around to get the footage. Luckily, it was something you were good at. You could talk somebody’s ear off if you had to and bullshit to the next degree; it had saved your ass on missions more times than you’d care to admit. If you ever retired from the Kingsman, you probably had a promising career as an actress.

‘All this before you’ve chosen a ring?’ He raised his eyebrows at you. You’d been quick on your feet - so much so that you’d tripped and fallen.

‘My baby’s been planning this thing since was a little girl.’ Whiskey quickly stepped in. ‘And it’s my job to make sure she gets it.’

‘He’s a lawyer.’ You went up on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek. ‘I’m marrying good.’

‘Oh!’ The jeweler glanced between the two of you. ‘This makes more sense now.’

‘Right, we’ve got enough footage.’ Merlin said. ‘You two can get the bloody hell out of there before I puke.’

After making an appointment to return the following day - which neither of you planned on going to, obviously - Jack took your hand and led you out the store. To keep up appearances, you kept your fingers intertwined as you walked back through the shopping mall. The fact you had managed to play a believable couple on such short notice was almost astounding.

‘Oh my god.’ You murmured, glancing over your shoulder as you exited the mall and turned the corner. You pulled your hand back from Jack’s, stifling a laugh. ‘I can’t believe we actually managed to do it.’

‘Why are you so shocked?’ Whiskey peered down at you, a grin playing on his lips. ‘Like I said - we would make a very attractive couple, sugar.’

‘In your dreams, Daniels.’ You shot back. ‘But if I ever do end up in a relationship like that? Shoot me. I beg you.’

You kept strolling together, slowly heading for the Statesman headquarters - but neither of you were in a rush. Whatever the hell that was had just broken the initial tension between you, and you were actually enjoying one another’s company for the moment.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ He asked. ‘Ain’t nothing bad about a man looking after his woman.’

‘That’s so outdated.’ You groaned.

‘It’s not!’ Jack protested. ‘A man looks after his girl and his girl looks after him. Or a husband and husband, or wife and wife-’

‘- how progressive of you.’ You cut him off, rolling your eyes. ‘I don’t rely on anyone. Ever. I look after myself.’

It was probably a cultural difference. Jack had grown up in the south, in a household where his dad worked and his mum looked after the house. It had been the same with his late wife; had things not gone the way they had, he’d probably be the breadwinner whilst she stayed home with the kids. You, meanwhile, had grown up in a working class area of London where a majority of the households were headed by women - and most of the time, single women. If there was some unheard of future where you got married and had kids, like hell would you give up your career. Your job was your baby.

‘We all need people to look after us sometimes.’ Jack nudged you with his elbow.

You shook your head. ‘Not me.’

‘Well you sound like a real heart-breaker, Miss Independent.’

‘It’s my speciality.’

Once you’d handed over the footage from your glasses to Ginger, you and Whiskey headed to the office. There was a comfortable silence between you - pretending to be a married couple had been one hell of an ice breaker. At least it was proof that you and Jack could work well together. You’d stayed on the same page for the entirety of your little improv love story, and it meant your first mission, however minor, had been a success. If working with him was going to like that for the rest of your time in New York, you might have been able to tolerate him and his ridiculous Southern drawl.

(Not to mention the nicknames. It left you wondering if Jack had forgotten your actual name and was too afraid to ask.)

Eggsy was waiting for you in the lobby outside the lift. He was leant against the wall, feet crossed in front of him as he tapped away on his phone. A frown came over your face when you realised that he had a bag beside him. He was scheduled to stay in the city with you until at least the following weekend. You had plans for a few days time to try and use your contacts to sneak into a filming of Saturday Night Live.

‘Hey!’ Your best friend brightly greeted you. ‘Guess what? Tilde called!’

‘That’s great!’ You forced a smile. ‘So you’re heading back to London tonight?’

‘Yeah.’ His grin didn’t falter. ‘I figured since you two played a married couple successfully, you didn’t need me to stick around to babysit you and make sure you didn’t eat him alive.’

‘It’s still early days.’ You reasoned. ‘Are you sure you don’t wanna stay a couple more days? Adam Driver’s the guest on SNL this weekend.’

‘I gotta get back and fix things, man.’ Eggsy said. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.’

‘Right, of course.’ You held your arms out to him.

He stepped forward and wrapped his own around you, lifting you off the ground and giving you a tight squeeze. If you had to choose one of your favourite things about Eggsy, it would have to be his hugs. The only reason you’d stopped calling him Hugsy was because he’d threatened to take them away entirely. They were far and few, usually when you were going to spend time apart, but you always appreciated them.

‘I’ll see you in a few weeks, tops.’ He said, placing you back on the ground. ‘And I promise we’ll get into SNL then.’

‘You better.’ You poked his chest. ‘I’ll miss you, Egghead.’

‘I’ll miss you more.’

You let out a tiny sigh as Eggsy picked up his bags and headed for the lift. You weren’t mad at him for going home early - just disappointed. And not at him, just at the situation, It had been a long time since you’d got to properly spend time together outside of work. Above all, however, you knew you had to respect his relationship. What kind of friend would you be to stand in the way of him and love?

Once he was out of sight, you regathered yourself and headed to the office. Jack was already inside, his feet propped up on the desk and a glass of his namesake whiskey in hand. It was the first time he’d taken off his hat in front of you, and his hair was a little ruffled from it.

‘Don’t need anyone my ass’ was the greeting he offered you.

‘What?’ You furrowed your brow.

Jack pushed his feet back to the floor, handing you your own glass of...well, Jack. ‘I saw the way you looked at your boy, Percy.’

‘I told you before!’ You snatched the glass from his hand, dropping into your chair. ‘Eggsy is not my boyfriend.’

‘Doesn’t have to be’.’ He shrugged. ‘You looked like you were losing your brother. Tweedle Dum ain’t nothing without Tweedle Dee.’

Eggsy was your brother, by all intents and purposes. Heck, he might as well have been your twin. Your fathers had been best friends when they were in Kingsman, and you and him were reflections of that. You’d gone through every high and low of your teenage years together, and eventually adulthood. As previously established, he often came to you and he often needed you, but you hated to consider how it might have gone the other way. He was the only exception to your needing no one rule. And, considering that not even your own mother had made the cut, it was actually quite complimentary.

‘I don’t need Eggsy.’ You insisted.

‘How long have you known each other?’ Jack ignored your statement, instead posing a question. ‘Since school?’

‘No. He’s six months older than me, so...my whole life.’

‘I rest my case.’

‘You know nothing, Whiskey!’ You exclaimed. ‘You can’t make massive assumptions about me when you’ve known me for two days.’

‘I’ve met a woman like you before.’ He replied. He pondered for a moment, and his eyes were almost...vacant. ‘She pretended she didn’t need a damn person either, but she did.’

‘And who was that?’ You thinned your eyes at me. ‘Because I can’t think of a single person who I need.’

‘She needed me.’ He casually shrugged. ‘And I needed her.’

‘Right. Naturally.’ You murmured. ‘It’s too early for this, Whiskey.’

‘Got too deep for you, Tea?’

‘The hell did you just call me?’

‘Tea.’ He offered you a shit eat grin. ‘Get it? Because you’re British-’

‘- this face isn’t because I didn’t get it.’ You cut him off. ‘And on that note, I am done here. I shall be working from home this evening and possibly for the rest of eternity.’

Swiping your glass up, you poured the entirety of its contents down your throat in one swig, before slamming it back on the table. The whiskey burnt for a split second, but it felt good - and you didn’t need to be skidding down that slippery slope at two in the afternoon. Gathering up your bag, you swung it over your shoulder and stood up.

‘Oh, c’mon!’ Jack protested. ‘We were just starting to get along, sugar!’

‘We were!’ You shot back, pausing when you were half-way out the door. ‘Then you started therapising me.’

He grinned at you. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You’re contractually obliged!’

‘Fuuuck off!’

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #kingsman x you #kingsman x reader #kingsman imagine #pedro pascal characters

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anightflower · 3 years

Text

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night.

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel.

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most.

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while.

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet.

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you.

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier.

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag.

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail.

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home.

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table.

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled.

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?”

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued.

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing.

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it. Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place.

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.”

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.”

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently.

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed.

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box.

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out.

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred.

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks.

He chuckled at your silence.

“Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears.

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

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devourer--of--books · 4 years

Text

tagatha dating simulator au

- It’s sunday night and local college student, Agatha, hasn’t sleep in two days, practically glued to her chair at the library, trying to absorb the maximum of information she possibly could before finals on monday morning.

- Sitting across from her is her roommate and best friend, Sophie, who doesn’t seem nearly as concerned, playing a game on her phone. Mostly because she already failed half of her courses and is considering dropping out of college to pursue a modeling career, why try at this point-

- Agatha appreciates that Sophie is keeping her company, she really does, but even if her friend was using headphones, Agatha can still hear the background music and the voice actors very clearly. That on its own was distracting enough, but it was always the same lines, with the background music looping as Sophie restarted the game prologue over and over again.

- Around the fifth time she hears the app-staring-exclamation ‘milady!’ her eye starts twitching.

- By the twelfth she slams her book shut, earning herself a glare from all the remaining students in the library.

- “How terrible do you have to be at a game to not be able to get through the prologue?” she whisper-shouts, taking the sit beside Sophie, looking at the screen.

- “That’s not the problem,” her friend defends, proceeding to explain the game.

- Trial by Tale is a recently released dating simulator that has managed to gather a cult-like following. The game was praised for its diverse range of LIs, well-written routes, stellar voice acting, high-quality art style and a beautiful soundtrack. It was apparently highly addicting as well, as Agatha had never seen Sophie be that invested in... any game... like, ever.

- Basically, the main character was transported inside a fairytale-fantasy-like world, where they were introduced as a ‘reader’ to compete in the ‘trial by tale’, a inter-worldly tournament, set up by a mysterious entity (a magical pen known as ‘the storian’), in which the winner would be granted an unconditional wish.

- “Original,” Agatha snorts.

- “Can you just shut up and listen?”

- During the prologue, the main character meets most of the main LIs and according to the player’s decisions, the game would put them into a specific route, based on affection levels with each datatable character.

- There were about thirty bad endings for the casual route (where the player either made stupid choices or didn’t gather enough affection with any LI), ranging from mildly sad to terribly gory. Then, each route had five early bad endings, that could happen during the trial, resulting in the main character’s death.

- If the player managed to win the tournament with the LI, bargaining with the storian for the survival of two competitors, then two new endings would be unlocked: a normal ending, in which the reader would wish to go home and a happy ending, in which the reader wished to remain forever in the fairytale world living happily ever after with their partner.

- “And that’s where it gets weird,” Sophie pauses, opening up the Trial By Tale wiki page. “Every single LI has a walkthrough and seven possible endings.”

- She shows Agatha a bunch of characters, offering some commentary on their personalities and backstories. Then, she pauses at the last. "All but one." The character is the prettiest, if not a bit too perfect. ‘Tedros of Camelot’, it says on the top of his page, his basic info and biography listed to the side, but it’s full of gaps, blanks and ‘???’s. It was mentioned that he was a dateable character, yet no walkthrough was provided.

- “Why doesn’t it say anything? Has he not been released?”

- “No one has managed to get his route so far, but according to the game developers, it’s possible. We don’t even know what his voice sounds like.”

- “And you think you will because…?”

- “I’m me. I’m getting Tedros’ route even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

- Agatha decides to leave her be, going back to the books, while asking for her to at least lower the volume.

- An hour or so goes by until Sophie grows hungry and decides to leave the library, going back to the dorm. After that, Agatha finally manages to concentrate, and time goes by in a flash.

- In fact, it passes so quickly that she’s not even sure what time it was. When did everyone leave?

- Her phone is dead and the clock on the wall is frozen at midnight. Probably broken, Agatha decides. It couldn’t be midnight, the lights were still on, the library closed at 10:30pm sharp and no one came to kick her out. She was tired, but she wasn’t deaf. She calls for the librarian.

- All the lights turn off at once. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t freak her out a bit.

- Then, she notices a blue glow from under the table. Please don’t let it be a demon.

- It’s a smartphone, with a bedazzled case, a loading blue screen emitting the light. Trial By Tale’s soundtrack starts to play and soon enough the words appear. Touch anywhere to start. That was Sophie’s phone. Which would be fine and normal and okay if Agatha wasn’t pretty sure Sophie left with it.

- The music starts to loop, and Agatha uses the light to guide her to the entrance, only to find it locked. Every other exit was blocked as well. Ha. Funny.

- Eventually, she surrenders, clicking on the screen, trying to close the app. The last thing she hears is ‘milady!’ and everything turns black as she feels the floor disappear from under her feet, her consciousness fading as she fell into an abyss of darkness.

- She wakes up lying on grass, near a gate, the words Trial By Tale engraved on top of it.

- She pinches herself, feeling it sting as she stared at the gate, pinching harder and harder to the point she nearly screamed in pain. The gate was still there. Agatha focus on her senses. She’s never able to smell things on her dreams.

- This place smells like dirt, pines, dried blood and iron.

- It’s a dream, she tries to convince herself. Very vivid dream, but it’s a dream.

- A bunch of floating text appears in front of her: Welcome, competitors!

- The storian tells Agatha everything Sophie already told her: it’s a tournament, in which 40 teens from different fairytale kingdoms, including the reader world, must compete amongst themselves for survival during 24 hours. You could pair up with someone, forming an alliance, but there could only be one winner. Then, the world froze, turning black and white, three options appearing in thin air:

A: I’m a boy

B: I’m a girl

C: I’m neither/both/something else.

- Agatha experiments. The text didn’t respond to her voice or gestures; she had to touch it. B. They disappeared up in smoke, being replaced by a new choice:

A: climb over the gate early

B: go in as soon as the gong goes off

C: run into the woods

- All of those sound horrible, she’ll hang around here, thank you very much.

- Agatha decides to pick B, because it sounded the least likely to get her killed. Tapping the option, color returns and more texts appears, telling her the rest of the rules. Apparently, all forms of magic and weapons were allowed, as it was a tournament to the death.

- Well, she had neither a weapon nor any magic, geez, things were certainly looking up.

- A gong can be heard and Agatha waits for her legs to magically move according to her choice.

- They don’t.

- She debates on staying put for a few minutes, maybe way too many, but then she remembers: casual route endings vary from mildly sad to terribly gory. Agatha doesn’t wanna find out which one she’d get by sticking around.

- Her future now depends on her romancing one of these pieces of code. Thankfully, it was just a dream, right?

- Inside the arena (?), she gets some other choices, which Agatha uses to her advantage, trying to figure out which LI she was going for and how to win them over.

- Hort, according to her friend, was the easiest to please and the most boring of them all. Nicola was efficient and Sophie had managed to unlock her happy ending without a walkthrough. Aric was a psycho, and so was Japeth. Don’t pick Rhian, her friend had warned. Anadil was a hard one to guess without the walkthough, Hester was super hot and Agatha’s type but that could go very wrong (clearly her type wasn’t working out, as she was painfully single) and-

- Is that Japeth or Rhian? She can’t tell, but he’s coming her way.

A: introduce yourself

B: try to kill him

C: hide behind the rock

- She chooses C, but climbs a tree instead, because he surely would be able to see her behind the rock, was he blind or something?

- “You sure are taking your time choosing,” a voice whispers from the branch above her, nearly giving her a heart attack, “...first time player maybe? Or just dumb?”

- Tedros, the mysterious character, was looking down at her, resting on a higher branch.

- Agatha glares at him before blurting: “You’re shorter than you look on your CG.”

- He chokes. “You can hear me?”

- “Why are you british?” she notices the accent, given how different it sounded from all the other voice actors.

- “I’m bi,” he frowns at her in offended confusion.

- (The himbo energy in this bus is astronomical.)

- They bicker a bit and Japeth grows suspicious of the hushed conversation, nearing the tree. Tedros asks for her help taking him down. Agatha is like, sure, whatever at this point, just trying to forget that Tedros broke the fourth wall. It’s a dream, don’t overthink too much.

- She distracts Japeth, and Tedros tries to ambush him, but it backfires horribly, resulting in Tedros now being a few seconds away from dying a very very painful death.

A: run away

B: ally yourself with Japeth

- Agatha hesitates over option A, convincing herself that Tedros wasn’t a real person. He was a just a character in a game. But while the entire world is black and white waiting for her answer, she swears his eyes remain icy blue.

- Trick of the light?

- She presses A but throws herself towards Japeth, colliding with him. Agatha ends up being stabbed in the arm, but otherwise fine, which is more than Japeth can say, as he fell into a conveniently located black hole. That hurt like a bitch, how is this a dream?

- Tedros is shook.

- “What did you do? How did you even-” he eyes the blood in her arm. “You’re bleeding!” Tedros rips his shirt to wrap it around the wound, and Agatha does her best not to stare at him while he tends to the wound.

- A blue ribbon in the sky tells Agatha she is now on Tedros’ route. A ribbon they can both read.

- “That’s… troublesome.”

- “What, is your route cursed or something?”

- “...”

- “It’s totally cursed, isn’t it?”

- They argue a bunch and Agatha tries to ditch him but ends up almost dying twice. Tedros saves her, and insists that since he accidentally gave her his route, he’ll help her stay alive for as long as he can.

- Together they figure out that Agatha’s ability to disobey the game choices might be able to uncurse his route, hopefully sending her home by the end and resetting the game as it was meant to be, allowing people play his route.

- Agatha is pretty sure Tedros is not telling her something, but she kinda does owns him her life now (“2x1, sucks to suck, reader.”) and he offered to share some of his food and hiding spot with her. Doesn’t hurt that he clearly knew how to fight and had a big sword, while Agatha had.... free will and nothing else apparently???

- They end up talking over fruits and water (we love a healthy king) in a cave and Agatha finds out basically every other character’s backstory, learning a ton about the context of these trials as well as what the game felt like for the characters.

- According to Tedros, every other character was doomed to repeat the same route and actions following the reader’s choices, only to lose all memories by the end, as the game reseted. They were all blissfully ignorant of the fact that this was, in fact, a dating simulator. All of them but Tedros. When Agatha asks him why, he closes off:

- “Every single character has a core wish they want fulfilled. It can be the same wish every time, or it can change once your route resets. My original wish contradicted the memory reset, so no one has been able to play my route at all. And if no one plays, I can’t reset. If you go home and the game resets, I’ll make a different wish and my route should be fixed for good.”

- Agatha doesn’t ask what he wished for and he doesn’t tell her either; it feels like way too personal of a question for strangers eating berries in a cave.

- She does ask him what his new wish will be, though.

- “I’ll restore my kingdom back to its former glory,” he starts, a certain sadness in his eyes. “They deserve a prince who doesn’t waste time wishing for-” Tedros interrupts himself, telling her about his kingdom instead.

- Agatha knows he’s related to King Arthur due to his name on the Trial By Tale wiki, but she’s surprised that he actually gives her that info willingly. He is indeed the prince of Camelot, but his mother abandoned the palace when he was nine and then his father died a few years later, sending the kingdom into despair and disgrace.

- (“That’s rough, buddy.”)

- To lighten the mood, she decides to tell him about ‘the reader world’.

- “To exist in your world might be something then,” he smiles, “I mean, beats hanging around here. You said you have a machine that can play music anytime you want?”

- Tedros is fascinated with everything and asks her about all sorts of stuff, like about politics, lgbtqa+ rights, tik tok, food, the economy, school and fashion trends. Also, memes, lots of memes.

- They spend like 8 hours straight hidden in a cave, just talking, bickering and actually having a lot of fun. The lack of choices even makes her forget she was still in a game.

- Tedros notices how tired she looks and offers to keep watch while she sleeps.

A: say no as a joke

B: outright refuse

- Agatha taps A.

- “Sure, do you mind if I lean on you though?”

- Is this like a date or are we like doing my route and you’re sleeping on my arm platonically? Tedros is shook, part 2.

- Agatha tries not to fall asleep, but she does take a nap, leaning on his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, an hour later she’s still alive, but her head was now on his lap and he was petting her hair.

- “Hi.”

A: get up

B: kiss him

- She doesn’t wanna get up, but she doesn’t really feel like kissing him would be appropriate for the moment. She presses B, yet remains still for next few minutes. Tedros looks a bit disappointed, as if he was waiting for her.

- “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

- “Do you want me to?”

- He doesn’t reply immediately, running his fingers through her hair. “Everyone wants to kiss me. I’m hot, I’m a prince and I’m rich.”

- “You’re gonna need to do better than that to get me to kiss you,” Agatha tells him. “If we survive this I’ll kiss you once, just before we unlock your normal ending and I go home. For a CG.”

- “But then I won’t remember it at all.”

- The comment makes her nervous. Once this is over and Tedros gets his route unlocked, he’s gonna be just another character. He’ll say things like that to everyone. Agatha has to chastise herself for growing attached to a video game character. He’s not real. He wasn’t yours to begin with, you’ve known him for less than a day. Get a grip.

- They stay in silence until another gong goes off, the storian’s text showing up in the air: “12 hours left. Only 10 competitors remain.”

A: stay in the cave

B: leave

- Agatha chooses B and they head out of the cave to see who else was alive, just in time to not be crushed under heavy rocks. Strangely they don’t bump into anyone. What they do run into, though, is a bunch of traps and creatures meant to randomly eliminate competitors. Great.

- Somehow, Agatha always chooses the right option and alters her actions just enough to save them at the last minute. Is she a pro-gamer? One can only marvel at how lucky she’s been getting in this game. No, but like, really, is she? Tedros is impressed.

- At the 6 hour mark, there’s 4 people left, including the two of them. He’s been eyeing Agatha weirdly and she doesn’t know what to think of it because she liked hanging out with him, but at the same time, he is a piece of code.

- There’s like, a dramatic confrontation with the other two competitors, which turn out to be Aric and Hester, not as a pair, but as individuals, and it ends up working out in Tedros and Agatha’s favor, as those two end up murdering each othe while Tedros and Agatha have the advantage of teamwork. It’s a great action sequence, but if you’ve read this far, I’m pretty sure you’re not here for the action.

- Anyway, the storian appears, but unlike the other routes, instead of giving Agatha the opportunity to bargain for them both to survive, her options are:

A: kill Tedros

B: kill Tedros

- Agatha doesn’t tap either. She stays still, glaring at the pen while the world remained black and white.

- Then, the entire arena starts to shake, the game glitching as Tedros moves, his colors fading in and out, his expression tortured, as if just smiling at her was painful, his eyes glowing unnaturally blue. “Let’s get you home,” he mouths, before stabbing himself with his own sword, falling to the floor as the colors returned for good.

- Agatha couldn’t breathe, kneeling beside him.

- “To meet someone who’d love me for me,” he admits, bleeding out into the ground, a single tear running down his face. “That was my original wish. And then I met you.”

- She kisses him on the lips, and as you know, true love’s kiss breaks every spell, heals every wound and transcends the limits of storytelling.

- Tedros’ chest is slowly healing, but just as he gets stronger, Agatha grows weaker, starting to disappear through his fingers in rays of lights, back to the reader’s world, leaving a lonely prince by himself in a bloody arena with a magical pen.

- “Unconditional wish for the winner, hm?”

- Back at the library, Agatha wakes up with a snap, falling off her chair.

- The clock on the wall reads 10pm and the few students left at the library glare at her. She hurries to gather her things in her arms, going back to her dorm trying to make sense of what just happened. It was all a dream. It had to be because her arm is intact. She has been running on too much caffeine, finals start the next morning, she was stressed, that’s all.

- Sophie is still playing the game once Agatha arrives at the dorm, and as soon as she walks in, her friend tells her the news:

- “See, darling, I told you I’d get Chaddick’s route eventually!”

- Chaddick’s route?

- Agatha doesn’t even reply, going straight to bed, still haunted. That night, she has no dreams of handsome boys in caves, neither does she dream of blue-eyed princes bleeding out.

- Monday afternoon, though, a distracted Agatha is walking back to her dorm after taking her exams, when she bumps into someone, nearly knocking her over. She is about to yell at the stranger when her voice gets caught on her throat.

- “To exist in your world might be something,” the familiar stranger smiles at her, “I mean, I’m Tedros Pendragon, nice to meet you.”

#school for good and evil #The School for Good and Evil #sge #agatha x tedros #Tagatha #tedros of camelot #Agatha of camelot #Agatha of Woods Beyond

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swiss-mrs · 4 years

Text

Let There Be War (3/?)

(Clyde Logan || Hunger Games: Catching Fire AU)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Mentions of PTSD, Graphic Descriptions, Death

The militant rhythm of twenty-three pairs of feet echoed the halls, creating an eerie countdown to each person’s final moments of civil encounters. Once the last person stood in front of their door, they all whooshed open, disappearing into the wall and allowing entry to the rooms.You were the last to enter your room, taking a moment of breath before stepping in. Your eyes were trained on the steel grey floor, but the gaze was interrupted by a pair of dark colored shoes belonging to your mentor. You drag your eyes up his thin body to meet his tight smile. His hands were clasped in front of his stomach awaiting your arrival. You two stood there a few steps apart, staring in silence until the door secured shut. He sighed through his slender, crooked nose, a sign of its past breaking. “Hey, doll.” His midtoned voice greeted softly. His stiff stature broke a bit as his sad eyes left yours.

“Hey, Marcos.” You said, equally as soft, your wilting eyes not leaving his sharp, angular face. “You came to say goodbye?” you smiled with sickening sorrow. He grimaced at it.

“Never a goodbye.” He shook his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. His age showed when he was like this, wrinkles forming around his frown and squinted eyes. “Just a simple conversation with my favorite person.” He tried to smile. “We don’t have much time left together so I just wanted to say this.” He walks up to you with three, frantic and outreached steps and envelopes you in a tight hug, your head resting just under his chin. He nuzzles his face in the top of your head a little, letting his cheek rest against your securely braided hair. His eyes close as he breathes deeply, trying to stay in the moment as long as he could, you doing the same.

“Come on, Marcos. We both know I’m not gonna pull myself out of this one.” You laughed out humorlessly. You train your left ear on his heartbeat, as his breath hitches in his chest.

“Don’t say that-”

“Marcos.” He sighs and you feel his jaw clench against your forehead.

“I’ll miss you, sweetheart.” He finally comes to terms, sorrowful. You both tighten your grip on each other. You both pull away just slightly, enough to see each other’s faces. “I’ll be rooting for you as always.” He smiles gently. You exhale a similar smile.

“Thank you.” Your brows furrow, as if determined to get out your final words to the man. “For everything.” Your fluttering eyes search his. “You’ve been the best person I could’ve ever hoped to be my mentor, my friend.” He smiled a little wider, it giving you the same sense of comfort and hope it always did.

“As you to me. You have taught me more than you will ever know, and I am truly honored to have been alongside Panem’s very own Goddess of the Sea, the best to ever grace the land.” He plants a gentle farewell kiss on your forehead. “Keep an eye out for that handsome lumberjack of yours.” He smiles playfully. “All of Panem saw the eye-contact.” He winks, trying to lighten the mood.

The glass tube that sends you to your doom slides open, awaiting you to walk in. You both lose the moment as you both look over his shoulder at the capsule with a frown. He looks back to you as your gaze stays glued to the thing. He sighs shakily and gives your forehead another kiss before switching places with you, rotating you both around by the hold on your arms, your back now facing the elevator, forcing you to focus on the man who's become family to you, more so than an appointed worker. He bends down to lock eyes with you, the hold on your upper arms tightening comfortingly. “Promise me you’ll try your hardest, Angel.” His tone deepens with the seriousness of his demand. You swallow and nod, stepping back out of his hold and into the tube.

“Take care of that family of yours, Marky.” You give him one last smile before the tube closes. He stares at you as you are lifted up, lifting his slender hand in the air. ‘Goodbye, brother.’ Your mind sends out as a tear runs down his face, the final thing you see of him before you're brought up and blinded by the sun on the surface.

Your eyes adjust as you look around you, finding yourself on the end of a runway that leads to the deceivingly inviting platform. You look around at each person around you, searching for Clyde. You find his broad shoulder and dark hair just barely peeking around from the other side of the platform. You see him rocking from side to side, searching, searching for you. Your eyes connect and his face is full of concern, but it subsides a little once he’s found you. The concern is replaced by what looked like fear. You didn’t think too much of as most everyone has that same feeling. The Countdown. Your heart rate quickens at the sound of it and you start to feel nauseous. Every beat brings a different bloodied, dismembered, vacant, phantom face into vision. The final boom breaks you out of your hypnosis and jolts your body into instinct mode. Your mind goes blank and nothing but a ringing rattles through your skull. Before you know it, you’re on the platform. Your vision tunnels the second your eyes spot your weapon of choice, the staff, but it’s interrupted by the feeling of an incoming strike from your left.

You lean back with vision obstructing speed, going into an instinctual combat mode. ‘5.’ Your mind establishes, as the strong, uncoordinated swing passes the front of you. You avoid looking at the man’s face but you can tell by the blur of dark, graying hair who he is. Out of the older, white men in this game, the tribute from District 5 was a little taller, a bit stronger and less grey than the one from District 8. You swiftly move around him and grab the nearest thing you could as he lost his balance from the missed swing, using the momentum from your turn to bring the machete into the side of his head, all in one continuous movement. He didn’t even have time to regain his composure. But it was quick and that’s as merciful as one could be here.

You use your foot to remove the blade from his head and kick his lifeless body into the water. You hear screams of anguish cut short by the sound of weapons clashing against skin and bone. You quickly assess your surroundings finding your next opponent. ‘2.’ The stocky, bald man menacingly marched his way towards you, his last victim’s blood tainting his appearance. You furrowed your brows and stayed put, standing your ground and lowering your stance, readying yourself, but the buildup was cut short. The man falling to the ground with an arrow sticking out of his head. You are quick to crouch down behind the metal box to your right, your sight trained on the dormant body of the man a short distance in front of you, again avoiding his face. You hear footsteps running but further away from you until they’re too far to hear. You peak from behind the box and find that the archer vanished.

The sound of a grunt, crushing bone and compromised flesh erupts from behind you, further off to your right. You find the coast clear as you make your way into the mass of the survival tools. You stay crouched as you swiftly sneak a pack off from the rack, your eyes never remaining in one spot for too long as your head swivels to scan for any potential threats. You grab as much as the backpack can fit, tools, food, weapons, anything you could reach. You strap it across your chest once it's found its way onto your back. Lastly, you pick up the speared staff and slowly make your way around the structure and search for the source of the noise, to see if the threat was still there. The small sound of sloshing water makes its way to your ears as your silent footstep near it. You round the corner to find the one person you’d hope to never have to see again. Clyde.

He was crouched down into a semi-seated position, rinsing the blood off of his hands and face. You tighten the grip on your raised staff. You come to a stop just as the pointed end of the spear makes contact with his right shoulder, he joints up and spins to face you, grabbing his axe on the ascend. His face softens a bit when the realization sets in and he sees your face, though it does hold a little bit of determination. He calls out your name in a small whisper, instantly bringing your heart to a stop, but it doesn’t waver your body. His breathing remains calm and his body relaxed, opposite of yours. You bring the staff even closer to your center of mass, as your brows further sink together. The point of the staff aimed square at his chest, where his heart lies.

“Hey, hey, hey.” he rushes out, the tone of his voice keeping its calm, relaxing nature. “It’s okay. It’s alright.” His accent shining through, slow to move as he lowers his weapon to the ground and raises back up to lift his arms in the same surrendering fashion they did on that night back in the training room. He lowers his chin and looks you in the eyes, sympathetic orbs that bore into yours. The center of his brows draw together and raise ever-so-slightly, painting his face in the same expression of a puppy. “Remember what I promised ya?” He gently asks, “The time is different. It’s gonna be different. Right? We’re in this together; No more bein’ alone.” He speaks, as if you could even forget. “I gotchya.” He whispers breathily. His jaw clenched as he exhales into a tight, determined pout. You two stay like this, staring at each other through the tense atmosphere, you unaware of the ready arrow trained on you, in case you made the wrong move. Releasing a breath you forgot you held, you lowered your spear slowly, and frowned, your bottom lip quivering momentarily before getting pursed into a stiff expression. “There she is.” He breaths out, a small, almost unnoticed smile creeps out for a second. His content eyes almost look proud as you searched each other’s eyes.

In a blur, Clyde is ripped from your sight, a surprised yell and the sound of splashing water breaking the peaceful silence you’d shared. You were only able to catch a glimpse of a dark haired girl before Clyde was dragged under the surface with her. ‘Fuckin’ 2!’ Your mind rattles. You’re quick to drop all your things, sliding off the backpack, and rushing into the water after them, diving head first with a form that’d make any District 4 member blush.

You open your eyes to see Clyde sloshing around trying to kick her grip on his leg off. You could tell by the amount of moving he was doing and the bubbles coming from his mouth that he wouldn’t last too long. The air was leaving his body too fast and he was in too much panic to hold what was left in. The shark fanged District 2 tribute bit down on his calf, causing him to scream out what was left in his lungs. You reach them just in time to ring your arms around the woman’s neck, pulling her away from Clyde, forcing her to focus her energy on you, Clyde struggling to messily swim his way to the surface. Not being able to see if he made it out or not, you hone in on the fight at hand.

The two of you sink your way to the bottom of the approximately 12ft deep body of water, your ears popping from the pressure. You tighten your forearm’s grip around the girl’s neck and use your legs to trap her flailing arms in the fold of your knees. You barely emit any energy as you are entangled around her, allowing you to keep the air in your body. A few short seconds of her struggling continue before she lets out an enraged scream of defeat, though muffled by the surrounding water. You kept your eyes squeezed shut just as her body convulses in your hold, the last string of bubbles leaving her. Once she’s stopped and the mere fifteen second altercation ends, you release her body. It floats away from you as you look up to see if Clyde got out, which is not the case. His head bobs in and out of water as he moves around frantically, trying to get his body to move towards the nearest place. You kick back into gear and repel yourself off the ground beneath you. You reach him in under two seconds and encircle your arms under his armpits from behind him. He starts panicking even further and begins to try and wiggle from your grip, thrashing his arms and almost elbowing you in the face. You lift him just so he is above water, “Clyde!” You yell in an attempt to get him to calm down. “Clyde! It’s me!” He cuts his escape attempts short at the sound of your voice. He’s gasping for air and coughing but you can tell he’s trying to regain his composure.

You float the two of you on your back, Clyde flush against your chest. His eyes are closed as his mouth hangs open, the coughing fit ceasing and he’s left trying to catch his breath. You switch your arms to wrap across his chest in a ‘hug’, his body relaxing into you even more as his head floats next to yours and his arms raise up to rest on yours. You look over to him to check and make sure he’s gonna be okay. A few dark strands drape themselves across his face, the rest tickling your left ear. You determine that he’ll be fine and avert your eyes to the platform surrounding you, the nearest thing to you being one of the runways extending from the large structure in the middle. You swim backwards until you reach. “Clyde?” You say softly, trying to get his attention, though his ears were just under the surface of the water. Your voice brings him from his daze and he turns his head slightly to look at you, the tip of his prominent nose touching the top of your cheekbone. He puffs out a short burst of air as a silent hum, letting you know he’s listening. “I’m gonna need you help to get you out.” You slide one of your arms out from under his to reach behind you and grab a hold of the edge of the runway. He nods as you use your grip on the corner of the runway to turn the both of you and keep above water without being on your back. Your hold on him stays put until he is able to reach out to the platform himself. He uses his left forearm to balance himself as he uses his right arm to hoist him high enough to turn and sit down on the runway, facing you. He retreats his legs out from the water as you make your way to the left of him. You stare up at him. “You okay?” You ask in the same soft tone. He nods and pushes some miscellaneous strands sticking to his face back out of the way.

“I’ll be fine, darlin’.” He horses out, still gaining back the lost oxygen. “I’ll be fine.” He repeats just as you gracefully lift yourself out of the water, going straight into a standing position with ease. He looks up to you with his determined pout from his seated position, “Thank you.” You look down at him, holding his eyes for a few seconds before nodding and looking out to your surroundings, sighing and trying to think of your next moves. You should’ve let him drown. It would’ve been easy. Leave someone else to kill him. Before you had the chance to grow attached. You should’ve walked away. Gather your things and-

He raises up, obstructing your view and your train of thought. He is incredibly close, your nose just a few inches from the center of his chest. Your eyes trail up to meet his, that same pout still on his face, it becoming a signature of his. Your face remained in its unchanged slight furrowed brow frown. “I know savin’ me wasn’t easy for ya.” He was wrong. It was the easiest split decision you’ve ever had to make in your life, but right now, he wouldn't know that. You turn away from him and head back to the platform, where you discarded your backpack, Clyde in tow. You gather your things and turn to find Clyde doing the same, facing back to you with an uneasy posture.

“We’re going to have to swim out of here.” He knew it was coming but he didn’t want to complain about it and make matters worse. “Just don’t let go of me, and I’ll get us across in no time.” He just nods. You clip on your backpack and he does the same.You close the distance in between you two and lower to sit down with your feet in the water. “Hug my backpack.” You command just as you get in, swimming out just far enough for him to lower in behind you. He uses his right hand to steady himself in the water as you back into him, his left forearm lacing its way to the tight space between you and the backpack. He lets the platform go, his right arm quickly following the actions of the left. He hugs the pack tightly but due to it being so snug to your body he pulls you back into him accidentally harshly, causing you to lose the rhythm of your tread, forcing an apology from him. His smooth voice dripped its way into your ear. You dismiss it, muttering your response quietly. Trying your best to keep both of your heads above water, you paddled your way to the dry land with a breaststroke. It wouldn’t have gotten you there in the fastest way but you figured this would have been the easiest on the axeman.

You finally reach the point where his feet can touch the ground, allowing him to comfortably let go of you once the top of his chest is above water and he can wade out by himself. Drenched, you both reach the treeline. You turn your head to look over at the right side of his face as if asking what to do now. He steps forward a bit then looks back at you with a gentle, inviting smile that barely moved the corners of his lips. He reaches his extended, upturned palm to you with a slight tilt to his head, motioning to the forest. “Come with me.” You look down to his outstretched hand. “A promise is a promise.”

----------

NUMERO TRES!!

ooooooooof we gettin’ into the nitty gritty, the dirty work.

hope you guys enjoyed! Pt. 4 will be more in depth on their building relationship and more aCTION WOOO

Tag List:

@douglasdriver @clumsycopy @morby

#adam driver #adam sackler #ben solo #kylo ren #Clyde logan #flip zimmerman #philip altman #charlie barber #toby grisoni #ronnie peterson #adam driver x reader #adam sackler x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x reader #clyde logan x reader #flip zimmerman x reader

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molachaka · 4 years

Text

screaming - inosuke (crack)

The real demons can be found around you.

When an anthropomorphic boar snatched a tempura out of your bowl - the gift of a food that fell from heaven rejoiced by unworthy mortals like you - you swore vengeance.

"You're not the boss around here!" You screamed at the beast, using your bokken as a stick to terrify him - but no; he took your anger as a challenge and took a bokken as well and copied you with a broken, mocking voice. "You'RE nOt tHe BoSs ARounD Here!"

You could feel your hair flying off its bun in newfound anger as you snarled at him, fingers gripping on the wooden hilt as you jumped towards him - swinging your weapon at his head, to which he easily deflected with one hand.

"HAH." Okay. His voice is becoming increasingly irritating. You cannot any more. "Is that your best?" The beast taunted, fumes of smoke escaping his nostril as his grated voice screamed at your face. "I could do better than yo--ACK!"

The way his knees buckled as he curled up to grip his manhood was satisfying. The crack in his voice when he screamed was even more.

You felt something broke apart when you kicked him on the groin, but who cares? It's not like this beast need to breed more of his annoying shit.

Your loud, sadistic laughter overpowered his pain, scratching his ears at your annoying pitch.

Then the beast screamed louder to deafened your sound of discovery and you glared at him. Dead blue lazy eyes glared back, taunting you. Challenging you.

Your dominant eye twitched at the silent dare.

The unspoken tournament was set, and the two of you prepared for it.

You inhaled sharply, air filling out your lungs as you ready yourself - his unwavering scream of struggle egging you on to let out the loudest laughter your chest could muster.

The terrifying guttural sound of "haha's" trembled the butterfly estate.

Everyone swore the end was coming; children crying, hashira getting their nichirin - anyone who can fight in the household ran towards the source.

To find you, literally having a screaming contest with Inosuke - who was mistaken to be aroused because of him gripping his poor pp. (What else could be the explanation of his broken sac? Arousal. Thank you, Shinobu-dono.)

"Could you two lower your voice down?!" A blonde added in the mix, screeching at the engawa and adding into the chaos. "You're disturbing the others!"

The two stopped - and eerily looked at Zenitsu at the same time, making the antsy cry baby cry more from the pressure.

The unwavering stare of lazy blue eyes and fury-filled (color) orbs made the blonde just… fall down on the floor grabbing his ears as he rocked himself back in forth.

Then the two continued their fight. The two contrasting pitch creating headache to those who was unfortunate to hear such chaos that scratches the sanity of humanity.

"Tanjirou-nii…" One of the butterfly triplets asked with horror as their eyes glued on the two. "Is this… is this what a mating call is?"

"I don't know, Sumi-chan." Tanjirou couldn't help but let a lone tear fall on the floor - expression unreadable at the question. "I-I don't know anymore."

The available pillars are not faring any better.

Giyuu is rubbing his forehead at this nonsense - hoping for his depression to save him from this misery. Sanemi is making '???' noises - Shinobu is just… watching in amusement.

"Go get them, Inosuke our boy!" Kyoujurou cheered at the background, wherever he got the pompoms is a mystery - but no one could complain at how cute he is by waving them energetically side by side.

Mitsuri also have the same equipment, jumping in excitement as she shakes (favorite color) pompoms besides the flame hashira. "Yes! Overpower them with your loving screech, (Name)! I believe in you!"

The two cheering pillars egged the two to continue their one on one.

No one was happy.

___

The people in the butterfly estate was granted peace when the two manage to exhaust their vocal chords and are announced to be mute for the next two weeks.

Everyone celebrated, even the two – by using underhanded trick by raising both their blurred finger up in the air because profanity must be mosaicked for some odd reason.

The happiest was Zenitsu. Shinobu just told him the news that he's half deaf and he thanked the gods that they granted him relief from this earthly pain.

Never again. Zenitsu thought. Never again.

___

Extra:

Inosuke: "Why are you so damn territorial with your food?"

You: "Why are you purposely taking MY food you damn BOAR"

Inosuke: "I SEE YOU AS A WORTHY OPPONENT. TO EARN MY LOOT FROM YOUR DEFEAT IS JUST RIGHT FOR THE MIGHTY INOSUKE!"

You:"WHO said you won in the first place?!"

Inosuke:"I DID!"

You: "THAT'S A LOAD OF CRAP. LET'S HAVE A REMATCH."

INOSUKE: "*Screaming boar.mp3"

YOU:"*Broken record screech*"

Tanjirou: "OH GOD. NOT AGAIN. EVERYONE GET YOUR EAR PLUGS."

Zenitsu laughed on the background while tearing up. He can't hear any of this crap.

You only need to find them.

In this case, Zenitsu did.

#kny crack #kny x reader #inosuke hashibara x reader #inosuke x reader #crack

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (9)

Chapter 9: A Sense of Familiarity | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: I am way overdue, so so so sorry about this!! ;;A;; I had to recover from yesterday’s COVID-19 testing because I have EXTREME needle phobia, I passed out minutes after being needled. On the bright side, I came out negative of the virus, yaaay!! ^^ Hope you all are staying safe and healthy 💞 Friendly reminder to wash your hands ;3

Also tagging @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 | Previous: Part 8 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

9 of ?

Dawn broke and the badlands met the sun’s rays.

The desert animals poke out of their rustic homes to bask in the first few minutes of sunrise—from the tiniest lizard living inside an animal skull to the apex predators emerging out of their dens.

Cal decided to venture out into the badlands as well, it occurred to him that he had only seen the forest and the town—whose name he learned to be Diitana, thanks to BD-1’s diligent scanning from yesterday; he gave the badlands a try.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,”

“Beeee!”

The Jedi was careful to avoid the eyes of the hulking beast with a pair of great horns on its head and another on the end of its muzzle, a thin mane wrapped around its leather neck, the skin was color ranges from stone gray to a shade of burgundy that matches with the color of the sand or the unique breed of grass in the region.

These giants eagerly protected their turf and grazed at the same time, letting the females and the young play around within their circle. BD-1 leaned forward and forward, until his legs were at the edge of Cal’s armor straps.

“I know you want a scan, BD, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get close. Those horns look sharp,”

Cal and BD-1 continued their trek, the Jedi had his eyes on the island across the great lake. He squinted his eyes, used his hand as a visor over his brows, and surveyed the distance if it was safe or not. Choosing to walk would take longer as he would go around the road until he reaches the island, swimming wouldn’t be so bad. The water crashed and pulled at his feet, he cautiously dipped his boots into the water to get a feel of the depth; he went further from the shore, then the shallows, and eventually paddled his way through the water.

It wasn’t a long swim, neither was it a short one. He simply kept his eyes on the objective.

The Jedi climbed out of the water and found himself in the island situated in the center of the lake—whose channels branched out and turned into more rivers—the animals that resided there were mere medium-sized vermin, perhaps contesting with the size of the Bog Rats back home in Bogano or the Scazz in Zeffo, but these local animal were completely docile.

“Alright then, I guess you could scan these since it’s safer here… I hope,”

“Wooo-wooop!”

The tiny white droid hopped out of Cal’s shoulders while the boy wrung the water off of his shirt and shook his legs dry. Meanwhile, little BD-1 skittered left and right, ahead and back, flashing his blue scanner lights at anything that won’t jump and attack him for the sake of standing too close. He even managed to scan a skull of the same beast back in the mainland.

“Oh, so that big thing’s called the Uroda,”

“Beee-woop!”

“Yeah, I agree. Best we take a look around, you go on ahead and scan around—just be careful,”

With Cal’s permission, BD-1 scanned whatever and wherever he pleases; meanwhile, the boy explored the islet which was significantly big for one, nevertheless it fascinated him. Something lured Cal and so he brushed his way through a patch of tall reeds, leading to the other side; when he pushed down the grass that was blocking his view, it was too little too late for him to realize that it’s become his undoing.

A Haxion Brood hunter was idling on the other side of the island. He heard the rustling of the reeds and anticipated the Jedi—for all that hunter knew, it could have been an animal, yet he was full of conviction that it was Cal. Before the boy brushed away the grass that draped him for protection, the hunter flicked the safety of his rifle and rested it on his shoulder…

Until Cal found him—or the other way around.

“There ye is, Umah!” the hunter snarled and squeezed the trigger, Cal dodged the shot by an eyelash.

The hunter was accompanied by another human with cybernetic limbs, apparently named Umah, only this time the second one donned a jetpack—making him extremely inconvenient for the boy.

“Aww, too easy to kill, innit, Pavo?!” the second bounty hunter, a rough-voiced female, barked.

With the push of a button, Umah went flying off the ground with her jetpack—literally having the high ground and the advantage, her flight lessened Cal’s odds of winning this skirmish, which somewhat boosted her confidence that she and Pavo would get the bounty for the Jedi.

“We’re not done yet!” Pavo snarled and tossed a flashbomb, he cloaked his eyes with his gauntlet while Umah flew a bit farther from the blast radius.

The din of the skirmish didn’t reach far in the expanse of the badlands, but the faintest sound was enough to alert the right person.

“Beee?” ID-3 inquired after noticing that Jidné paused from gathering desert plants.

“Something doesn’t feel right, ID-3,”

Jidné and ID-3 stared at one another, but she was listening carefully for the sound. The distant echoing of a barrage of blasters made her ears prick up. She lousily stuffed the bushel of plants she’s collected so far and, out of instinct—or perhaps, of impulse—she followed the din of the battle. Jidné hurried to the direction of where the sound was coming from, with every step she took, the louder the sound.

I’m close! I’m in the right track! The fleet-footed bounty hunter thought to herself, leaving plumes of dust at her footsteps’ wake.

It got louder, every minute. Battle grunts could be heard, explosions of bombs popped in her ears, and the humming of a lightsaber sung hollowly in the empty trenches. She’s now close by the island, she kept her momentum was perfectly constant—instead of swimming, she made stepping stones out of the logs and the rocks sticking out of the water until she’s set foot on the island. She arrived unnoticed.

As Jidné ran, she spotted Umah floating about in her jetpack. There was an inclining boulder at the edge of the island, she brandished her lightsaber as she ran over the rock to gain height in order to reach Umah. While the enemy was unaware, Jidné severed the wing of the jetpack, causing it to immediately malfunction and plummet Umah hard to the dust.

Cal was too focused on Pavo that he didn’t noticed that Umah had been incapacitated until her face skidded across the shore.

“UMAH!!!” a startled Pavo exclaimed.

“Mind if I even out the odds?” Jidné blurted, landing flat on the balls of her feet after her jump attack succeeded.

“Jidné! Am I glad to see you!” Cal quipped back.

Umah brought herself up to her feet, even underneath the overhanging rim of her helmet and the mask that covered half of her face—it doesn’t need much thinking to figure out that her fury against Jidné is through the roof, along with her fatally wounded pride of having her face shoved into the sand.

This display of assertion didn’t intimidate the younger bounty hunter, frankly, it excited her more. With Umah’s eyes glued to her, Cal could keep himself busy with the Pavo fellow.

“I’M GOING TO GUT YOU OPEN AND STICK A FLASHBANG IN YOUR INSIDES!!!” Umah roared.

“Oooh!” Jidné mockingly shuddered at the threat, and then gripped tight around her lightsaber hilt. “That’s imaginative of you—even for a crook!”

With the bounty hunter seething with blinding, reckless rage, Jidné has the upper hand. Umah ditched the jetpack and produced a vibroblade from the holster clipped to her belt; upon seeing the weapon, the Jedi girl positioned herself into a defensive stance—anticipating for Umah to come charging towards her to avenge her damaged ego.

While Jidné’s engaged in melee with Umah, switching between kicks and slashes of the lightsaber; Cal is attempting to get a jab at Pavo, who kept himself safe behind his compact shield that folds into his gauntlet. It was tricky for Cal, but he managed to make his own luck by using his Force abilities. The redheaded Jedi anticipated the moment Pavo was open and vulnerable without his shield, and then inflicted Force slow on the enemy—when that tactic was successful, he didn’t spare a second in dawdling and dashed towards the hunter with an overhead strike.

“Come here, you little shit! I’ll have that pretty face delivered to Sorc!!”

“You can see me through that damn roof on your head, you wench?!”

The taunt did it. Umah raises her vibroblade, both hands on the hilt, and makes a running attack on Jidné; the young girl managed to evade the incoming attack, Umah quickly recovered and twirled around to afford another hit—but Jidné denied it in the blink of an eye. The vibroblade’s glow flickered out for a second against the blinding purple gleam of Jidné’s saber.

Jidné pulled away and immediately followed through with a diagonal slash to finish off Umah. The crook’s body thudded lifelessly on the sand, Jidné’s head jerked to the sound of Cal’s cry of pain—Pavo had knocked him down hard using the shield. Thinking fast, she lobbed her saber at his foot—the only body part unprotected from the shield—and gashed his shin, then mustering all her Force energy, Jidné sent out a powerful push against Pavo and sent him into the water.

Both Jedi caught their breaths, Jidné walked up to Cal and was the one to offer him a helping hand this time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he takes her hand and she pulled him up his feet. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I owe you one after all, from those Bashiji cats the other day,”

“Right,” he nodded, recalling his rescue for her in the jungle.

He absentmindedly fixated his eyes on the girl’s hand and then to her alternately—he recalls the faint ripple of the Force that he sensed the day he landed into Ombari, and that ripple grew until it became stronger the moment he discovered Jidné. There was something unusually warm about her—aside from the fact that she was also once a Padawan and a survivor—Cal simply found it easy to talk to her and that she was easy to be around, despite being someone who carried a similar burden.

At first he thought it was a fluke or a trick, but today otherwise proved it to him. He and Jidné had an uncanny knack of finding each other in the right time—even if they never expected it.

“Um, Cal…”

“Yeah?”

“You can let go of my hand now, pretty sure you can stand without a support,” Jidné weakly chuckled, eyeing on their conjoined hands and then shifting her look back to Cal.

Cal slightly tilted his chin up, his fingers slowly unfurled and his palm slipped away from Jidné’s grasp. He looked away to shield his reddening face from Jidné’s eyes. The boy did all sorts of fiddling across his person just to shake off the awkwardness.

“What brings you here in the badlands?” he initiated, trying to divert her attention from his blushing.

“I was collecting some desert plants and herbs. A vendor in Diitana told me she’d give coin to whoever can bring them to her. And you?”

“Just wanted to take a better look at Ombari,”

Cal walked up to the edge of the island, scooped up a handful of water to splash it on his face; he combed his fiery scarlet locks with his damp fingers as he turned to face Jidné—from her view, the sun perfectly tinged its rays on the sheen of the top of his head, it was like watching fire dance softly. Goosebumps pelted her skin, she could feel them underneath the sleeves of her beige jacket, and the hairs at the back of her neck stood up—her hand impulsively reached for her nape and rubbed it to calm her nerves.

Jidné pensively surveyed the island, “Not bad for an itinerary.”

The two Jedi laughed at the lighthearted joke, they were so caught up with their giggling that they didn’t realize Pavo was still alive. The crook swam upwards, as quietly as possible and caught a glimpse of Cal’s leg; as Pavo neared the surface, his right cybernetic arm clawed its way out of the water and hooked around Cal’s ankle—it all happened within a flash that neither Jedi was able to react against it in time.

“CAL!!” Jidné shrieked, she jumped into the water seconds after Cal was pulled in.

Pavo had his arm wrapped around Cal’s neck, the boy kicked wildly as bubbles foamed out of his nose and mouth while trying to loosen the crook’s arm around his neck. In the blur of the lake’s water, Jidné paddled as fast as she can, apparently Pavo was armed with little turbines on the ankles of his boots to speed up his swimming and she only had her breather on her.

She swam as quickly as she could, her shoulder joints were beginning to ache but she didn’t care, her legs were gradually cramping from the forced paddling until she got closer to them; she pulled in Pavo, who still had Cal in a chokehold, and Cal suddenly headbutted Pavo in the middle of the pull—allowing himself to break free at least a few inches away from the bounty hunter—and then Jidné ignited her saber through Pavo’s chest. The hum of the saber was muffled by the bubbling of the water and she gave a slight push of the body away from her and Cal.

The dead bounty hunter’s arms opened and limped in the water, Cal paddled towards Jidné and gawked at the glowing purple beam—his jade eyes were wide in bewilderment, and then air bubbled plumed out of his mouth, forgetting that he needed to breathe. They both swam to the surface, but Pavo had pulled in Cal so deep that he’s lost most of his breath trying to break free—his hands desperately searched for the breather in his pocket until he found it and attached it to his mouth. His lungs were relieved to finally suck in some air and he was able to keep up with Jidné. Both Jedi sprang out of the water and clutched onto the sand, too tired and heaving to pull themselves up, they dragged their bodies to the shore as they greedily panted for air whilst their droids skittered off of their shoulders to shake off the water that seeped into their bodies.

“How…” Cal gasped. “Your lightsaber… How did you…”

“It’s… ahh…” Jidné heaved, her chest rising and falling. “A modification I made… a long time ago. My master had it too.”

A series of breathing was their only exchange after that.

“Can’t yours work underwater?” she added.

“Nah… doesn’t…”

“I can help you with that,”

Cal turned his head to the side, examining Jidné’s face riddled with water droplets trickling and drawing from her cheekbones and forehead. Tiny rainbows reflected on the beads of water on her skin thanks to the sunlight; he had a glimpse of the silhouette of her profile—the slight parting of her lips, the defined bridge of her nose and the curving scar across her cheekbone.

“You will?”

“Yeah, it’ll come in handy the next time something like that happens to you,” and then Jidné chuckled before uttering her follow-up. “And I won’t be around to save your ass if that happens.”

“Well, I’d rather have you around,”

Jidné shifted her head to her left side, she finds Cal facing up in the sky with his eyes closed as he continues to catch his breath—but his breathing has calmed, the slow rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest disturbed the fabric of his drenched jacket—she spots a little smirk curling at the corner of his mouth that faces her.

Her heart pounded wildly again, so much so that she had to clutch her chest to calm it down—she felt like it would rip through her shirt if it beats any faster. Emotions flooded and then conflicted her with the objective in mind. She bit her lip as she zoned out, staring back at the blue sky hoping to find enlightenment to this confusion—to her dismay, there were only white plumes of clouds hanging above their heads, no answers, no clarity to these feelings that have muddled her ever since she found her sweet, redheaded target.

“Think you could help me modify it today?” asked Cal.

“No problem, but you’re gonna need another crystal,”

“You mean, another kyber crystal?”

Jidné looks at the Cal straight in the eye to prove that she’s not joking and then nodded.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make a cutting trip to Ilum then,”

Cal groaned, Jidné sensed the disdain in his voice. Going there must feel like a chore—a very cold chore.

“Would you like to come with?” he added.

Taken aback by the invitation, her eyes shifted around, quickly thinking of an alternative. She wouldn’t want to leave the Scarab one planet away—she simply couldn’t leave her baby in the middle of nowhere! Even if she activated the cloaking device on the ship, there’s no guarantee that scavengers or animals would bump into it sooner while she’s gone.

“O-Oh, I don’t know, Cal…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna push it on you. We could still meet after I come back from Ilum, then you can help me modify it!”

“Are you always this… optimistic?”

He lightly chuckled, “Well, you’re the second person to say so.”

Eventually, the two arrived at a stalemate whether or not Jidné comes along with him to Ilum. She told him that she couldn’t leave her ship behind—that was hiding amongst the trenches in the badlands—he understood her side, and so there was a compromise.

Jidné ended up being left behind in Ombari.

“Just promise me one thing,”

“What’s that?”

He took both of her hands into his, and gave it a quick shake before speaking.

“Swear you’d wait for me?”

Her heart jumped. She blinked which prompted Cal to reiterate, constantly assuring her that Ombari was close by Ilum’s system.

“I promise it won’t take much time, so long as you promise me you’d wait for me and you’ll help me,”

His eager, emerald eyes shone brightly right in front of Jidné’s dark, earthen eyes. She can feel his fingers caging her knuckles tighter by the second, she never thought she’d find herself lost in his eyes and that kind, innocent smile. She could feel her heart sinking down and joining her butterfly-filled stomach.

She sighed and pursed her lips, “Okay. I’ll see you soon, then.”

His hands gently clutched her arms and exclaimed happily in reaction to her reply. As a matter of fact, it startled her, but she’s still too prideful to admit that it felt nice. Once again, she felt genuinely wanted or needed—not because they want her to get rid of a target, but for honest reasons such as Cal’s. It almost made her tear up, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way.

Jidné almost didn’t want Cal to let go—he didn’t want to admit it, rather he was too bashful to say so—but he did, she sensed the hesitation in his withdrawal and compensated with an awkward bidding of goodbye.

Cal searched for a way out of the island, and then he turned to Jidné as if asking for a hint. She pointed at the same path she took when she got to the island.

“Just a hop, skip, and a jump there, ginger.”

“Thanks, Jidné.”

“You’re welcome… Cal.”

The young bounty hunter watched the boy cross the logs and stepping stones across the river until he landed on the other side and then disappeared out of the badlands.

Oh… Oh joy… the voice in her head groaned.

“Trill, beee!” ID-3 sang in high-pitched notes.

“Ha-ha, real cute, ID-3,”

ID-3 argued with his owner, further insinuating that Jidné is starting to get “attached” to Cal. The droid went as far as using the “Attachments are forbidden to the Jedi” card.

“Whoa, whoa, since when did you pick that up, lil’ guy!?”

“Beee-beep, chirp!”

“Have you been scanning my journals?”

The guilty droid lowed a soft chirp, Jidné chuckled and patted his head, reassuring him that she’s not angry with him, but could’ve just asked her to lay out all her manifests for him to expand his databank. Meanwhile, the conflict within her continues to swirl like a storm—her feelings battled with her sense of duty. As she watched Cal’s figure shrink the farther he goes, all she could think about is the warmth that she gets from him during their interactions and it always drew a little smile out of her.

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youtuberswithalex · 4 years

Text

PRVL, Vol 3, Ch 3: It’s Brawl in the Family

Summary: Riad’s risky move comes to play as Roman and their friends watch and worry in the stands. Will it pay off, or will it cost Team AMBR the match?

Word Count: 3,291

Warnings: Fighting (in a tournament), mentions of alcohol

Tag List: @haikyuupaladin @an0therrand0 @isabel3710 @ilia-a-isms (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Masterpost – Volume 1 – Previous - Next

---

Anole kept his head under the shallow water and swam as fast as he could, eyes glued to the blurs fighting at the top of the bird’s nest. Each kick of his feet sent sand up to cloud the water further; by the time he made it to the other end of the pool, he could hardly see a thing.

He pressed his hands on the rising bank and scrambled onto dry land, frantically pushing his now-soaked bangs out of his face.

The ground jolted beneath his feet.

Letting out a yelp, Anole stumbled and crashed face-first into the sand as the stage began to tremble.

Ash and Mauve gasped and threw themselves onto the edges of the bird’s nest, gripping with white knuckles while Bora and Marjani grabbed each other’s hands and beamed.

Myrtille toppled backwards and fell to her knees. She slammed her ice saw into the floor before slamming her metal leg down next to it, cleats shooting out from the bottom.

The sound of cracking rock sounded across the arena, and as Sakiz lost her hold, the loose boulder toppled over. It splashed into the lava pit, sending bubbles flying everywhere.

Sakiz landed right on top with a heavy oof!, and only a drop of lava hit her armor.

The earthquake slowed to a stop.

Riad sat up and let out a sigh of relief before Myrtille let out a cry and tackled him back to the ground.

Looping his bow around the quiver on his back, Anole leapt onto the mast, the scaly grooves on his palms sticking easily to the wood. He swung his feet far behind him as he used his upper body strength to scale his way up. When he reached the bottom of the bird’s nest, he braced his heels below him; he walked his hands across the bottom as quickly as he could before gripping the boards on the side and swinging out.

Through the cracks, he watched as Ash threw an uppercut into Marjani’s chin; in return, she kicked her back, sending her struggling to keep her balance on the edge.

Anole grinned.

He gripped the top of the nest and hoisted himself up as he threw out a leg to knock Ash to the ground. Mauve whipped around and aimed an arrow at him, but he somersaulted onto the floor just as it whizzed past his hair. Yanking his own weapon out, he shot an arrow through her dress, pinning her to the side of the compartment.

“Four square, huh?” Bora huffed.

Growling, Anole scrambled over and started to unwrap the chain. “Shut up, not my best plan.”

The chain dropped to the ground, and Marjani shoved one of her swords into Bora’s hands. “Don’t blame, fight,” she said.

There was a laugh behind them.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mauve replied.

The three whipped around to see her balancing on the side of the bird’s nest, her taut bow aiming at their feet. Ash crouched on the floor next to her, her chain in one hand and Anole’s arrow in the other.

“This fight’s over.”

She fired a red arrow and dropped; Ash leapt out after her, grasping her by the wrist. The arrow wedged itself into the wood in front of Anole’s feet and started to flash.

“Great,” he grumbled.

Ka-BOOM!

Nila gasped as they watched three bodies go sailing across the field. “They’re not gonna land it!”

Thamir grimaced. “So that means…”

The buzzer sounded.

“Ooh, what an upset!” Professor Port’s voice echoed around the arena. “Three out of the four members of Team AMBR have been eliminated by knock-out!”

“Truly, what an unfortunate circumstance! It is now up to Mr. Airtafae to win this match, with his worryingly-low Aura levels after that astonishing demonstration of his semblance!”

“Four against one,” Lloyd finished. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Roman whirled around to glare at him. “How dare you assume that my boyfriend can’t hold his own!” he exclaimed. “Riad can and will take these fine ladies single-handedly and destroy them!”

“I have reason to believe you are highly overestimating him,” Logan stated.

“Roman’s definitely got one hell of a pair of rose-tinted glasses,” Thamir laughed.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Roman doesn’t wear glasses…”

Riad kicked Myrtille off of him and dove for his mace; as soon as it was in his hands, he slammed it into the ground, setting off an explosion that had both him and Myrtille flying in opposite directions. He skidded to a stop, one hand on the ground for balance, as she tumbled towards the water.

Just before she fell in, Mauve leapt over the water and shoved her down to the stage. Ash landed next to them and launched her chain into the lava field, snatching Sakiz and bringing her to safety in a second.

They slowly stalked around him; he watched carefully, gripping his weapon tight.

“You might as well give up now, kid,” Ash said. “There’s no winning this match for your precious team.”

He shot her a confident smirk. “I don’t stop fighting until the end.”

Myrtille let out a hum. “That’s respectable. You seem like a cool guy. I kinda wish we didn’t have to do this to you.”

“Let’s get dinner sometime after this,” Sakiz offered.

“Sorry, girls. I’m already taken.”

Behind him, he heard the creaking of a bow.

“Who said any of us were interested?” Mauve asked.

Riad whirled around and swung his mace, the spikes crashing into the arrow just before it hit him; he ducked just as a machete flew above his head and swung his leg to knock Sakiz’s feet out from under her. As she fell forward, he leapt up and landed an uppercut on her jaw. He snatched the chain as it flew towards him, yanking Ash into a kick in the stomach. The ice saw flew down out of the corner of his eye, and he threw his mace up just in time to block.

Myrtille spun and twirled her saw, wrapping the chain of his mace around the handle before yanking him over and putting him in a headlock. He threw his elbow into her stomach, but she held her ground.

“Now!”

With wide eyes, Riad watched the other three come sprinting towards him.

A punch to the stomach.

A kick to the shin.

A headbutt to the face.

A buzzer.

“Oh, and with that brutal elimination, Team SAMM proceeds to the Doubles Round!”

As the girls dropped their stances to cheer, Riad slumped to the floor, panting heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth.

“Riad!” a voice screamed.

Roman shot into the air and towards the stage, ignoring his friends’ cries in favor of keeping his focus on his fallen love. It was hardly a split second later when, not unlike a bird to a well-cleaned window, he crashed into the shield protecting the stands from harm.

He fell to the floor with a groan; when he sat up and looked over to Riad, he was slowly making his way towards the locker rooms, shoulders low and his mace dragging behind.

-----

“That was awful.”

Virtus offered a soft, sympathetic smile and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder as they stepped off the airship. “Yeah, that’s tournaments, kid. It’s always the people you want to win that lose.”

“But it’s so not fair!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “How did we pass onto Round Two and not AMBR?!”

“We were against different teams, Roman,” Logan pointed out. “There is no evidence to suggest that we would have won against SAMM, nor that Team AMBR would have lost to Team JTTT.”

Roman looked away. “I know, but… still. Seeing Riad like that…” He sighed. “I’d at least have felt a little better if Anole had actually let me talk to them.”

Esther adjusted her hijab. “Give them time to lick their wounds. They need it.”

Giving his shoulder one final pat, Virtus put his hands on his hips and stopped to look at the group. “Well, I don’t know about you three, but watching all that fighting made me hungry. Whaddya say we meet up with the other two and head into Vale to get something to eat?”

“Why not go to the fairgrounds?” Roman asked.

“Can’t exactly eat in public without pulling that down, now, can we?” Esther said, pointing to Virtus’s mask.

“Oh. Right.”

Logan opened his scroll. “I’ll send Virgil a message to have them meet us—”

“Guys! Guys!”

They spun around to see Virgil already sprinting towards them, Patton hot on his heels. The Lyceums each reached for their weapons; as soon as they saw the huge grin on Virgil’s face, they relaxed.

The two skidded to a stop, and Virgil frantically pointed behind him towards the courtyard. “Did you guys see that?! Please tell me you saw that!”

“See what?” Roman asked.

Virgil let out a cry and dug his hands into his hair. “You just missed this incredible fight!”

“In the courtyard?”

“Yes!”

“There was this Huntsman with a big sword,” Patton explained, “And he was fighting with an Atlas Military woman!”

“Not just any woman—a specialist!” Virgil added. “They were so fast and strong—dude would’ve beaten her clean if General Ironwood hadn’t stepped in!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Who would be foolish enough to attack an Atlas Military Specialist?”

Patton shrugged. “I think his name was Crow, or something.”

Roman froze. “Wait—wait—you said he had a big sword? Was he drunk?!”

“Um… Maybe?”

His face turned a deep red. “Was… Was it Qrow Branwen…?”

“The one from Team STRQ?” Virtus asked. “Is he still picking fights?”

Roman buried his face in his hands, wings curling around himself. “Gods…! That was one of my teachers at Signal!”

“What?!”

“The drunk dude?!”

“He’s a teacher?!”

“Not anymore,” Roman replied as he dropped his hands. “Yang said that he left to go on some mission that was going to last a really long time or something. Didn’t think he’d be returning at all, let alone like that…”

Logan crossed his arms. “And where would Yang have acquired that information?”

“Um… Her and Ruby’s dad?” Roman shot. “He’s their uncle.”

Virtus smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Gah, of course she is! Should’ve known from the moment Ruby pulled out her scythe!”

“Oh, come on! You couldn’t have guessed it just by that!” Esther exclaimed as she swatted his shoulder. “That girl in Team AMBR had one, too! It’s the hair that should’ve given it away!”

“Her hair doesn’t look anything like his!”

“Oh, what are you—?!”

“Okay, okay—” Logan put his hands between the two and shook his head. “If we want to eat in Vale, we cannot start this conversation. Patton, Virgil, would you like to join us?”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets. “Sure, I could go for some food. Where are we going?”

“I’ve got a few places in mind we can pick from,” Virtus said. “We can decide when we get closer.”

“Trust us when we say the food is great,” Esther added. “One of the places has a pumpkin bread that is absolutely to die for.”

Roman perked up. “Oh? Riad loves pumpkin bread! You must tell me where I can find this!”

Logan looked to Patton; he frowned when he saw his arms wrapped around himself, looking away.

“Patton?”

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

“Are you going to be joining us for dinner?” he asked again.

Shifting his weight between his feet, Patton looked away hesitantly and shrugged. “I… don’t think I can,” he whispered. “I don’t really have any Lien…”

“Who said you were paying?” Virtus cut in.

Patton blinked at him, eyes wide. “U-Uh… I thought…”

Virtus cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Hey, c’mon. We’ve got the money, and you kids definitely earned it today!”

“No, it’s—it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“We want to,” he replied. “We wanna get to know you kids better, anyway. What better way to do it than over some grub?”

“I…”

Mouth still half open, his eyes flicked between Virtus’ and Logan’s shoes; when they lifted to look at Logan’s face, he did his best to offer an encouraging smile. Patton shrunk in on himself further before turning to Virtus.

“Are you sure…?”

Virtus beamed. “Absolutely! C’mon, now. This restaurant isn’t going to pick itself!”

He turned and started to lead the group back towards the airships while Logan waited in place for Patton to catch up. As soon as he was near, he held out his hand; Patton glanced at it, softly shook his head, and scurried along.

Logan frowned before trailing after them.

----

The setting sun shone a soft, warm glow through the windows of the quiet diner. Though it was rather packed compared to a normal day, most of the tables kept their conversations soft and to themselves. Servers wandered between their tables, and the radio playing in the background left a calm atmosphere.

At a table near the back, one of the patrons slammed his fist down.

“Tallahassee couldn’t hold a flame to Pyrrha Nikos!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Are you kidding me?! She doesn’t even use her Semblance in battles!” Virtus shot back. “Tallahassee has two AI in her armor! Two!”

“Yeah, exactly! Pyrrha doesn’t need any help! She can kick anyone’s butt with just her raw strength alone!”

Logan scooped up some pasta. “Virgil does have a point, Father. She would also surely allow the rest of Team JNPR to help her, whereas Tallahassee refuses to accept any help, be it from the Pinks, the Purples, or the Mercenaries.”

“Of course she wouldn’t, they’re all idiots!” Virtus laughed, nudging Logan hard enough that his food fell back to the plate. “That’s the whole point of the show!”

Patton frowned, looking to Virgil. “I thought it was about capture the flag in a canyon?”

Roman let out a groan and dropped his fork to run his hands through his hair. “Is there nothing else we can talk about other than a theoretical fight between a cartoon character and a real person?!”

“PvP isn’t a cartoon,” Virgil huffed. “It’s made in a video game.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know, Roman. Pink Versus Purple seems to be a show you would enjoy,” Logan said.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. You don’t agree?”

“Uh… Not really,” he replied. “It’s, like, all dialogue. No singing or dancing or any of that Volt Tawny crap.”

Roman gasped. “Did you just call Volt Tawny—?!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Esther interrupted. “Roman had a point earlier. We can debate fictional characters against each other any time, but we’ve got a whole tournament right in front of us that we’ll never get a second chance to speculate on! Why aren’t we pitting two real people against each other?!”

“Like who?” Logan asked.

Patton poked at his small plate of fries. “What about that Penny girl that Ruby’s been hanging out with?”

Virtus slapped his hands together and pointed at him, ignoring the way he flinched. “Now she’s a real fighter!” he exclaimed. “I would not be surprised at all if she were to win this year! That kid’s got some real power behind those swords!”

“No, way! Coco Adel’s got it in the bag!” Esther said.

“Ohh, you’re just saying that because you like her weapon!”

Logan cleared his throat, rendering his parents silent. “I believe we do, in fact, still have a matter we need to discuss about the tournament.”

Roman sunk into the booth with a sigh; Virgil looked between the two with a raised eyebrow. “And that would be…?”

“Who will be proceeding from our team to the Doubles round.” He reached up to fiddle with his necklace as he began to inspect his suddenly very interesting pasta. “I… would very much appreciate it if you would allow me to be one. I’ll admit that my reasons are more… sentimental, than anything, but I’m sure you know that I would fight to my full potential in the name of our team, regardless of the emotions behind it.”

Virtus gently put his hand on his shoulder; Logan swallowed thickly and placed his hand over top of his. He took a deep breath and looked at each of his three teammates in turn.

“That being said,” he continued, voice cracking and steadying within a syllable, “It would mean a great deal to me if you were to choose me to proceed forward in the tournament.”

“Oh, Logan!” Patton cooed. “Of course you can!”

“You are the strongest member of our team,” Roman added. “I don’t think there was any chance we’d tell you not to.”

Virgil smiled and gave him a soft kick under the table. “Yeah, dude, if anyone can win this for us, it’s you. You’re gonna destroy whoever we go up against, no matter who it is.” Then, with a thumbs up, he added, “You’ve got our support.”

If there was an extra sheen to Logan’s eyes, no one said a word.

“Thank you,” he thickly responded. “I promise I will not disappoint you.”

Virtus frowned, brow furrowing as he turned to look at Logan. “What?”

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Um— I believe we still need to choose one more of us to join me in the next round.”

“Uh… Yeah,” Virgil carefully replied, watching as Virtus and Esther shot each other a glance over Logan’s head. “Yeah, um… I think Patton should be the one to go.”

Patton startled, dropping a fry back onto his plate. “M-Me?!”

“That is an excellent suggestion,” Logan replied.

With wide eyes, Patton leaned forward in the booth to watch as Roman nodded along with them. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his gaze darted between the three.

“Why… Why me?” he asked, voice about an octave higher than normal.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t want to be out on stage again,” Virgil said. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Not in front of that many people, at least.”

“And, Roman was the only one of us to get knocked out in our fight,” Logan added. “Not to mention how wonderful an opportunity it would be to help you train yourself in fighting with your semblance.”

Patton spluttered. “But—But you know I can’t! If—”

His eyes flicked to Virtus for just a split second. He shrunk in on himself.

“…You know why I can’t use it in the tournament,” he quietly finished.

“With all due respect, Pat, I don’t think it matters much at this point,” Roman piped in. “They’ve probably already seen the match.”

Gaze falling to the floor, Patton reached up to fiddle with the edges of his collar. “That’s what I’m afraid of…”

“What does it even matter?” Virgil questioned, gently nudging his arm. “You haven’t talked to them in months, and it’s not like you’re going to any time soon. If they try to come fight you, the three of us would get rid of them in a second. You know that, don’t you?”

“I… do, I guess…”

“Then there should be nothing to fear,” Logan stated. Then, with a soft smile, he added, “Please, Patton. I truly believe you are the best person to participate in the next round with me.”

Patton looked up at him, still hunching in on himself. “…You’re sure?”

Logan held out a hand. “I’m positive.”

There was a long moment where he stared at it and chewed on his lip. The others watched with baited breath.

Finally, Patton let out a breath, swallowed thickly, and took Logan’s hand.

“I’ll do my best.”

#prvl #alex writes #sanders sides fanfic #rwby au #sanders sides #happy birthday to me i get to update my favorite fic :D

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

Soul of a Warrior. Chapter 6: Light & Dark

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Jaskier x Nissa (OC)

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

AO3

Please reblog and leave a comment, it would make my day!

A/N: As well as updating on Thursdays, I will be posting new chapters every Sunday from now on, so stay tuned twice a week 😉 Also, remember that feedback is very much appreciated 🤗

The next day, we have entered Redania and are nearing Rinde. The Pontar river flows next to us, and I gleefully watch it as we advance on foot. I am elated to be closer and my mood only improves with the company. It feels like a new beginning.

Jaskier’s voice fills the silence, as it couldn’t be other way. This time he timidly sings lyrics to a new song he’s in the process of composing.

“What will you do?” Geralt speaks, and I realize he’s looking at me. “When we reach Rinde?”

“Oh” The question surprises me a bit, so I absently look at Pal while I think of an answer. “Well…”

“She will stay with us, of course!” Jaskier answers, forgetting about his music. “Right…?”

I shrug a little, a bit conflicted. I am quite comfortable with them now, and I certainly enjoy their company. The thought of leaving them behind saddens me, but perhaps the best thing would be to spend some time alone, reflect and allow myself to heal. The loss of my home town is still an open wound, and it feels too early to move on.

“M-Maybe…?” Pal reciprocates the stare when I look at him. If only he could tell me what the right thing to do is.

“It’s fine” The witcher nods slightly, pulling Roach along himself. “Think about it”

“Yes” I smile, knowing the choice is still a bit far away. “We haven’t reached Rinde yet in any case”

I turn at Jaskier, who slides the lute to his back. His eyes are glued to the ground and he absently kicks a small rock of the many that cover the ground at our feet. As though he senses my gaze, however, he lifts his head up. I smile a bit at the sight of his lively blue eyes, and he sweetly reciprocates the gesture. Somehow, his expression is asking me to stay, to remain by their side for just a bit longer... and I want to comply.

As we walk, I step onto a small stone that rolls and makes me lose my balance. Jaskier next to me is quick to wrap an arm around me even though I quickly recover.

“Wow, careful!” He smirks when I hold on to him out of sheer surprise.

“I’m… fine…” I blink repeatedly, flustered by the sudden closeness.

“Leave her alone…” Geralt tiredly says. I have to purse my lips not to laugh at the face Jaskier makes in response.

“I’m being considerate, Geralt, I don’t want her to fall in the water!”

I snort when I look at the big space that separates us from the water. In reality, I was nowhere near falling in.

“You don’t think me capable of the terribly hard task that it is walking?” I tease him, tugging at his hand that settled on my waist and trying to get rid of it. He doesn’t leave off.

“He’s just looking for an excuse to touch you” The witcher mutters, deadpanning as usual.

“I-I-I…” The bard stutters, gawking at his friend. “Excuse me! I’m just trying to…”

“Stupid bard” I chuckle when he starts blushing and playfully wrinkle my nose at him.

“Oi, it would be a real shame if you actually fell in the water” Jaskier pushes me slightly and I yelp and cling on to him. That only causes his smirk to grow. “Not so cheeky now, eh?”

His hand squeezes my waist and I shrink against his side. Jaskier’s eyebrows arch in curiosity to my reaction and I bit my bottom lip.

“Watch your hand” I only say, maintaining eye contact.

“It is on your waist, no lower” He defends himself, intently watching me as if wishing to read my thoughts.

I don’t respond, only push against his chest ever so slightly in order to put some distance between us. His expression suddenly changes, from confused to absolutely thrilled.

“No…” Jaskier shows me a mischievous smirk. “Are you ticklish, my dear Nissa?”

My cheeks burn. The twinkle in his eyes confirms that I am in fact blushing.

“N-No…”

“Yeah you are! Oh, this is brilliant!”

“Don’t you dare, Jaskier”

“Or what?”

“I am warning you”

I lift a finger up, but my quivering lip makes the threat slightly less menacing. Ahead of us, Geralt sighs very loudly. He is mumbling something to Roach, and I manage to catch a few of the words he says.

“Why me…?”

“Ah!” I yelp when Jaskier roughly squeezes my side. “Hey!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish” He smirks still, squeezing again.

“Stop it!” I squirm to try and get away from his grasp. “Jaskier!”

When he holds me with both hands and starts tickling me without mercy, I let go of the horse’s reins. Giggling and struggling to breathe as his nimble fingers attack me, I shrink over myself and push my shoulder against his chest. Jaskier only giggles as he watches me squirm. To lock me in place, his arms push me against his torso. In that position, I have no escape as his hands continue squeezing the ticklish spots in my sides. I try to push myself off him yet again, squeaking and laughing breathlessly and without remedy during such torture.

Pal suddenly nudges Jaskier, quite angrily, to push him off me. I see Geralt returning to our side as he notices the scene. In the meantime, I struggle to catch my breath when his attack ceases.

“Wow, little horsey” The bard immediately lets go of me, backing away. “Calm down there”

“It’s alright, Pal” I am moved that he tries to protect me, even if Jaskier could never actually hurt me. I try to comfort my horse, caressing his neck, but he’s still a bit rattled. Pal nudges his head towards Jaskier again, causing him to yelp and step further back with an exclamation.

“Jaskier” Geralt calls him, and even if he’s leaning forward, he isn’t quick enough.

Jaskier loses his balance and falls into the water, yelling in surprise. He sinks into the river for a moment. We stand by until he scrambles to his feet once more. The water luckily only reaches up to his chest. His brown hair looks black as its dripping with water and sticking to his forehead. His expression is indescribably hilarious.

“My lute!” The bard suddenly shouts, frantically sliding it over his chest and analyzing it. He sighs in relief when he checks his most precious possession is intact. Wet, but intact.

I cover my mouth, torn between laughter and concern. When Geralt offers him a hand and pulls Jaskier out of the river, I lean towards the amusement and start giggling. Even the witcher next to me clears his throat to hide a chuckle.

“Go ahead, Nissa, don’t be shy!” Jaskier throws his hands up in exasperation, splashing water everywhere. “Enjoy my misfortune!”

The sound of his soaked clothes dripping water on the ground only causes me to laugh harder. I take a moment to recover and then place a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” I feel the need to ask, but he gasps in outrage.

“No!” Jaskier shouts dramatically. “I could have died, and my lute!”

Geralt shakes his head in amusement and continues walking, taking Roach with him and telling her how he will treasure this moment forever. I myself approach Pal, but he’s carefully watching the bard. Trying to make amends, the horse gently pushes his head against Jaskier’s shoulder.

“No, no, no” He wiggles his finger at the horse. “Don’t give me that now, you beast”

I grin as I watch the two interact. Pal tries once more. In the end, Jaskier sighs and caresses him between the eyes to settle a truce. The horse leaves him with one last nudge before returning by my side.

“He was only trying to protect me” I conclude as Jaskier frowns and watches his lute attentively. “You were attacking me after all”

“Yeah, yeah…” He mumbles, carefully wiping water drops from the instrument.

I grin and walk ahead, leaving Jaskier to his resigned mumbling and concentrated cares towards his beloved lute. Geralt is smiling a bit when I catch up with him, and his grins only widens when our gazes meet and finds that I am trying not to keep laughing.

Rinde is a welcome change from the extremely silent atmosphere that has gloomed over us for the past few days in Vizima. The city is bustling with people, activity and movement. There is a small market at the capital and so we indulge in curiously taking a look at the items displayed: clothes, food, herbs, jewelry, weapons… all kinds of goods.

Jaskier’s mood has improved in these few hours that it has taken us to arrive. After his clothes and hair have dried, he is back to his usual chatting and occasionally calls to show us something that catches his eye. He tugs at my wrist and takes me with him everywhere he goes. Though I laugh a little at his behavior, I manage to get rid of his grasp after a while. He is too preoccupied with curiously eyeing some poetry books to notice.

I absently wander around the market and stop before a stand displaying dresses and riding wear. All my belongings burned in the fire along with everything else in Vizima, and I wasn’t cautious enough to take any money with me. Nonetheless, I eye a comfortable looking pair of breeches and a tunic.

Although Geralt and Jaskier look slightly disheveled themselves, I honestly feel absolutely disgusting. After all the activity, my clothes are full of dirt, dust, blood and sweat. So is my skin, and I could certainly use a change of clothes. Nonetheless, it will have to wait until I can earn some coin.

The witcher suddenly halts next to me and picks up the very garments I watch. Geralt hands me the clothes, but I don’t take them and instead watch him, baffled.

“I don’t carry money with me…” Still not moving, I watch his outstretched hand.

“Just take them” He pushes them towards me and tosses a coin to the seller.

The man doesn’t have a problem taking the payment and letting me take the clothes. I myself don’t feel as willing and stand there in shock.

“Take them” He insists. “Or I throw them away”

“T-Thank you, Geralt…” I whole heartedly say, clutching them against my chest.

“Aw, that’s sweet” Jaskier rests an elbow over my shoulder, watching his friend. “See, Geralt? You’re soft, don’t deny it”

The mildly friendly expression in the witcher’s face fades instantly as he turns to the bard and glares at him. Jaskier doesn’t bat an eye and instead continues speaking.

“Here, look” As he cheerfully takes Geralt by the arm, the witcher pinches his nose in exhaustion. “I found something incredible”

I curiously follow after them, arriving to another stand. This one is full of beautiful jewels sparkling under the afternoon sun.

“Look, Geralt!” He repeats, holding up a gorgeous silver necklace with emeralds incrusted on it. The witcher glances at it with disinterest, even if Jaskier is watching me with the corner of his eye anyway. “Doesn’t it remind you of someone’s eyes?”

I giggle at his poor attempt at subtlety. Geralt grunts in aggravation. Although I open my mouth to speak, our candid moment is interrupted when someone starts shouting at us.

“You, mutant!” The seller is eyeing Geralt. “Get out of here, away from my wares!”

There is a short pause in which we gawk at the man. Then comes the retaliation.

“Oi!” Jaskier harshly drops the necklace. “What did you just say to him?”

“You heard me!” The man insists, shooing us with hand gestures. “Off you go!”

“Alright then” Jaskier hands the witcher his beloved instrument. “Geralt, hold my lute”

Unfazed by the bard’s outburst, he only holds him by the back of the doublet and pushes him away of the stand. Jaskier complains, though he is forced away from the confrontation. I want to retort back myself, but I am so shocked and outraged that the nasty words I want to dedicate that man are stuck in my throat. In any case, I open my mouth to produce any sounds. I will not let him berate Geralt in such a way.

“I… H-How dare you?!” I only manage, glaring at the man. My body is burning with anger. I kick the base of his rickety stand. “You should learn some manners, you-“

I advance towards the idiot, but the witcher makes me stumble as he drags me away from that spot as well. He has lifted me off the ground, leaning me against his side and easily carrying me away from there as though I weigh nothing to him.

“Your merchandise isn’t even that great, you pathetic excuse for a jeweler!” Jaskier continues confront him, earning an angry glare from the man. “You absolute buffoon!”

“Jaskier…” Still carrying me, Geralt hauls the bard around by the doublet.

The two of us exchange a helpless look as the witcher defuses the situation. Several pair of eyes watch us, accompanied by hushed mumbling. Once we are slightly calmer and far away enough from the marketplace, Geralt lets both of us go.

“That man deserved to get a piece of our mind” Jaskier angrily fixes his doublet.

The witcher only shakes his head. He ignores it when the bard vehemently nods back.

“If you are to travel with us, you can’t react like this” His golden eyes move from me to his friend. “You too, Jaskier”

The aforesaid mumbles under his breath, and although the words are unintelligible, I gather by the way his gaze is directed towards the man still that they are not kind words.

“Are you truly alright with this?” I demand to know, staring at Geralt.

“It isn’t the first time” His lips form a thin line, though he seems calm. “And it won’t be the last”

“You amaze me, Geralt” Jaskier takes a deep breath. “I could just punch him in the face and break his teeth”

“Hm…” He only replies. “We should search for an inn”

Trying to forget about that incident, I touch Geralt’s arm as soon as he lets go of me. Nearly sarcastically, he pats my hand. He doesn’t seem surprised nor bothered by such treatment, and it breaks my heart. One gets used to everything, it seems, even to insults. All I hope is he isn’t starting to believe in the veracity of those insults. Or that he has already.

Jaskier dramatically sighs when Geralt leads the way. My feet drag across the ground as I follow them. That interaction feels like a glimpse at what travelling with them truly is like.

“I suppose we should all rest for a bit” Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, the bard directs us to the closest inn. “We could all use a bath and some food, I am hungry”

Jaskier doesn’t wait for us as he now leads the way towards the establishment. Silent, we follow in tow.

A question hangs in the air, though neither of them says it. We have arrived, we have found a place to stay, and the dilemma lingers in my mind even if I don’t address it either. I haven’t decided what I will be doing, but surely it can wait for a few hours more, just until we get some well-deserved rest somewhere other than a forest or out in the open. Big decisions should be taken on a full stomach and a rested mind.

As we near the inn, the hubbub of voices from inside reach us before we enter. Geralt and I stop for a moment to secure the horses outside.

“You two go ahead and rent the room” Geralt is eyeing a notice board right outside the inn.

“Right” Jaskier casually walks in.

I stay behind for a moment. The look in the witcher’s eyes makes me suspicious. Is he trying to leave us alone? Before he can confirm it with an indecorous comment, I follow after the bard.

The environment is loud and lively. It smells like ale and sweat, yet somehow it feels vaguely familiar and welcoming. Too many years working in a tavern, I suppose.

Jaskier is already leaning on the reception table, talking to the woman behind it. I walk toward him. He sinks his hand on his pocket and I pout at the sight.

“Not you too…” I mumble as I stand by his side, resting a hand on his arm. Jaskier only grins and says nothing.

“Thank you, darling” He is telling her now. “You have the cutest nose, by the way”

I scoff at how he flirts with her, though he completely ignores me. The woman doesn’t seem too impressed in any case. That doesn’t erase that stupid grin from his lips.

“Jaskier…” I tug at his arm, but he shakes his head.

“Ah-ah” Dragging two coins over the counter and closer to the inn keeper lady, he then turns his body to me, nearly challenging me to change his mind. “No complaints”

“I feel terrible…” I feebly lean on the column behind me. “First Geralt and now you… You’re being too kind, and I have no way of repaying you…”

Jaskier looks at me, and I can feel how his eyes struggle to stay on mine. I cock an eyebrow at him and he grins innocently.

“Oh, I’m sure you can think of some ways to make it up to me, Nissa” The way he arches his eyebrows is suggestive to say the least. I shove my palm against his shoulder to erase the expression off his face. “Ow, alright… sorry…”

“To your left” The inn keeper woman hands Jaskier a key.

“Ladies first” He motions forwards, so I take the lead to where the rooms are. Walking to our left as the lady said, I talk over my shoulder to him, glancing ahead to watch where I’m going.

“I do appreciate what you’re doing” I tell him, earning a beautiful smile from Jaskier.

“You’re very welcome” After a few more steps, we reach the door and he unlocks it with the key. “I’m always more than happy to aid a damsel in distress”

I gawk at him in false outrage and he chuckles, opening the door for me and allowing me to step in first.

“Thank you, Jaskier” Before I come in, I leave a soft peck on his cheek. "Truly"

It’s hard not to notice how he freezes in the spot. His fingers briefly brush against his cheek there where my lips were. The bard is flustered enough to awkwardly clear his throat and take several seconds to follow after me, closing the door behind him.

“R-Right… I, uh…” As I plop down in the bed, I watch him. Jaskier trails off for a moment before he recovers his train of thought. “I… also asked for warm bath water”

“That’s lovely” I say, bringing my braid over my shoulder and starting to undo it. I absently hum a melody, that which he has been singing, as it is stuck in my head.

Watching me in silence, Jaskier sits in the other bed, facing me. His fingers fidget with the key. I avert my eyes and lowly sigh in relief when my tight braid is undone. It doesn’t help with feeling tired and filthy, but at least it’s not tugging at my scalp anymore.

“Can I ask you a question?” He suddenly utters, blinking as though his eyes are on me yet not actually seeing me.

“Of course” I reply, absently carding my fingers through my tangled hair. “What is it?”

“Do you… believe in destiny?”

“Oh… I… Well…”

“Yes?”

A dreamy and thoughtful look takes over him. I struggle to voice my thoughts on the matter. I never did believe in it, but it isn’t quite as simple as just that.

“I can’t afford to” I finally reply, shrugging a shoulder when he frowns. “If it’s set on stone, I feel as though mine is quite cruel”

“Right… I suppose…” Jaskier glances down to the rusty key between his fingers.

I can tell the moment is quite tense now, so I pipe up once more to remedy it.

“Why do you ask?” I show him a smile as soon as our gazes meet. “Are you still thinking about your new song?”

That seems to liven him up immediately. His deflated posture fixes and he grins brightly once more.

“I am, actually. Though I’ll admit: I am quite stumped with this one” He lets out an exaggerated sigh, as though he were heaving his final breath. “I can’t find the right words”

I think of something to say, but he is already standing up. Jaskier shows me a charming and flirtatious smile as he moves from his bed to set with me in the other. Our sides brush together as he places an arm over my shoulders.

“Would you like to be my muse, Nis?”

“Don’t start, silly”

“You’re the one that kissed me!”

“On the cheek”

“You still kissed me”

“It was on the cheek!”

He lets out a chuckle that I find too adorable. I refuse to fall for his charm again and so I push him away. Leaving him lonely, I stand from the bed and tower over him. His eyes resemble those of a puppy dog as he looks up at me.

“I am taking a bath” I hold a hand up before he can say anything, which he was, judging by the way his lips started moving. “You may keep any related comments to yourself”

“Or what, my lady?” When he tilts his head, the hair falls over his eyes but he doesn’t move it. “You will have our trustworthy witcher beat me?”

“Or I can do it myself” I smirk and turn around, denying him the chance of a witty response.

The shift of temperature is shocking at first, but I relax into the warm water and sink further into the bath. It seems to magically untangle all knots in my muscles. A deep sigh escapes my throat. I needed this.

Although the noises of the inn sound muffled through the walls, the silence is slightly overwhelming. Being used to Jaskier’s voice proves bothersome when presented with its absence. With his absence in general. Even with Geralt’s absence despite his usual silence.

It is the first time in nearly a week that I am actually completely left alone. No matter how much I appreciate their company, it now allows me to breathe and think more clearly. The decision at the back of my mind arises with the reflective mood I am currently in. As I absently scrub my arms with soap, I consider the possibilities.

Returning home is obviously not one of them. I am forced to move on one way or another, but there are many ways to do so. Rinde seems as good place as any. The important question is… alone or with them? This newfound quietness and tranquility is comforting, yet I am unsure that I would grow used to it, that it wouldn't turn into a curse soon. After I lost Kader, Hana was always by my side. I hadn’t been truly alone in my life, and neither did I want to. Moments of isolation? Of course. A lifetime of loneliness? Absolutely not.

I wince when the bar of soap presses against a superficial wound that I had forgotten about. On the outside face of my arm, the cut I earned on the mountains remains. It is nearly completely healed , but it will leave a small scar. Despite how harrowing those events were, my mind clings on to the positives of our endeavor. The way we protect each other, Geralt’s reluctant smiles and hums of amusement, even his grunts of annoyance and glares. Jaskier, of course, is in my mind as well. The way his lively blue eyes land over me, his bright smile, his ubiquitous voice, whether singing or teasing or rambling.

The water feels slightly cold now, and so I busy myself with actually taking a bath rather than mindlessly sitting in it. Once done cleaning the remnants of dirt, blood and sweat from my skin, I move on to my hair. As my hands move automatically, I imagine how different my life would be without them. And I can’t stand how empty it would feel. Not long ago, they were completely strangers. Geralt was nothing but a witcher, a mutant I was too afraid and distrusted of due to past experiences. Jaskier was only a meddling bard who could be too talkative and annoying at times. Yet now…

I tried to pretend like I was conflicted, though there was honestly no choice to make.

The new clothes fit me quite well, and are definitely an improvement to my old and tattered garments, even if they are slightly too large, especially the tunic that nearly poses as a dress reaching my thighs. I have to tight my belt around it so it comfortably clings to my waist instead.

When I return to the room, Jaskier is gone. One of the three beds is occupied with saddlebags that I recognize from Roach’s mount. Geralt must have passed by, probably preparing for a witcher job or something of the sort. I notice Jaskier’s lute is nowhere to be seen just as I recognize the sound of his singing voice through the walls. Of course he’s out there singing.

Exiting the room, I walk into the common area where the music fills my ears. At that moment, he is playing a cheerful jig that has some people quite entertained. I quietly walk to a side of the establishment and lean on a column. When I pay attention to the lyrics, I cross my arms and shake my head in disapproval for the song’s childish sexual content, even if it pulls a chuckle out of me. I watch him fondly as he performs, standing on a table. He is wearing his white undershirt that suits him so well. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing his forearms as they move at the rhythm of the tune. His eyes vividly wander around the room, squeezing every ounce of excitement that his music produces in the room. They suddenly fall over me. His entire face lights up as he grins bright and winks an eye at me. I smile back before I can realize I am.

Just then, Jaskier finishes the song and lets the last note ring dramatically. A few of the people applaud and go over to leave some coins in the open case of his lute on the ground. With a theatrical bow, the bard thanks them and prepares to play another song. Quite briefly, his gaze returns to me as he strums the first chords. I laugh when I recognize it immediately and mouth the words along with him.

“When a humble bard…” We both grin at each other from opposite ends of the room. “Graced a ride along…”

People easily catch up as well, starting to loudly sing the infamous song. This is distracting enough for him to get quite into his performance, drunken in his success as everyone is soon loudly chanting along. I myself tap my foot with the catchy rhythm.

He thrust every elf

far back on the self

high up on the mountain

from whence it came

He wiped out your pest

got kicked in his chest

He’s a friend of humanity

so give him the rest

A pang of guilt suddenly stings me in the chest. My grin fades away. I had never noticed certain aspects of the song. Now they seem quite disturbing.

I understand that Jaskier wrote that song for Geralt, to rid him from his awful fame as the butcher of Blaviken. I used to believe it as well, which didn’t help me in trusting him. Now that I know him personally, though, I realize how unfair that title was despite not having witnessed the events that developed. But Jaskier’s lyrics paint the elves in a bad light, and it upsets me. The bard had only been charming, sweet and playful towards me. That side of him is now revealed to me, almost like it wasn’t there before. Faced with the truth, I lower my head and exit the inn. The contrast of the silent night is jarring.

Just as I plop down in the wooden platform outside of the building, everyone starts loudly singing the chorus. Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty… The voices are too distracting as I try to wrap my head around these astonishing contradictory feelings.

The cool night breeze is refreshing, seemingly clearing my confusing thoughts. I had everything completely wrong, didn’t I? I believed Geralt to be an emotionless mutant who only cared about coin and I realized he could be even more human than some men. I thought Jaskier was pure and untainted, but he had a darker side as well. Nonetheless, why does it bother me so much? I was just starting to see him as a friend rather than a stranger. That was just what he was now, a friend if anything at all.

I absently look out to the horizon, shaped by the buildings that stand in the way and shadow the beautiful colors of dusk as the sunlight caressing my face slowly fades away.

“There you are” His voice next to me makes me jump slightly. I didn’t realize the song was over. “What’s the matter?”

“You startled me” I mumble, surprised by my racing heart.

“Not that” He sits by my side and tilts his head to establish eye contact. “You walked away in the middle of my performance”

“Oh, that…”

“Yeah, I feel quite hurt” I reluctantly smile when he presses a hand against his chest.

“Jaskier…”

“I thought you enjoyed my songs”

“And I do”

He knocks his knee against mine, and his voice acquires a more serious tone now.

“Tell me, Nissa” I glance at him, only to find with such a tender and innocent expression that it moves me.

My doubts seem to vanish, but the song still echoes in my mind.

“When did you write the song?”

“Oh” Jaskier straightens up, proudly. “When I first met Geralt in Posada, we-“

“It’s not true” I interrupt him, knowing he might start rambling, as he does.

“Pardon me?”

“That’s not what happened with the elves”

His moment of pride vanishes as he averts his gaze. Just as I thought.

Our encounter with Yaevinn burns fresh in my mind, as I am sure it will for a long time still. And although I wasn’t there with them that other time, I know Jaskier’s song wasn’t quite truthful. Just the fact that he called the elf an ‘it’ gave me a hint. Sadly, I know why he wrote it like that. And he himself explains as he opens his mouth and replies.

“No…” Jaskier absently pinches the strings in his lute to avoid my gaze. “Filavandrel let us go, just like that”

"Then ‘it’ showed mercy” I shake my head, looking up at the stars that timidly shine over us. “Why did you write the song like that?"

I notice him frowning at my disappointed tone. However, he shows me a sarcastic smile and tilts his head in consideration.

"Would you have liked a song about the grief of the elves, humanizing them?"

"Yes, of course! It would have been more beautiful and more real than this lie"

"Well, you're not like everyone else, Nissa"

I stare at him, properly seeing this darker side of him. During all this time I had only known the gentle Jaskier, the kind man that comforted me when I lost everything, who did his best to make me smile, or fluster me with his flirting and teasing. It wasn’t until I heard his famous song again that I realized about his cunningness.

“How do you know so much about elves, in any case? Beyond… you know”

“My brother told me, he was well traveled”

“He must have been insufferable”

I open my mouth in outrage, but his playful smirk lets me know he’s not being entirely serious. Acknowledging his attempt to lighten up the mood, I chuckle.

“He could be at times” I nudge Jaskier, elbowing him in the ribs. “But then again, so are you”

The bard winces, pushing a hand against his chest in heartache. I laugh again, and he can’t help but to smile at the sound.

“There is more to life than fame and fortune”

“Oh, is there now?”

“Yes, do you realize that?”

“I’m starting to, my dear Nissa” Jaskiers reaches out to push my long dark hair behind my ear. I become flustered. Even if the gesture is quite chaste, against all odds, it makes me shiver. I watch him expectantly, waiting for him to do something else. To say something cheeky or do something cocky. Soon enough, he does, yet not in the way I imagined. “You look prettier”

“Prettier?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re always pretty” He smiles, nearly bashfully. “But now, under the moonlight... you are absolutely glowing”

The compliment is genuine, devoid of any of his usual flirtatious tone. To further baffle me, Jaskier averts his gaze as though he doesn’t deem himself worthy of contemplating such beauty.

I look at his hand placed between the two of us. My fingers move, considering resting against his. However, Jaskier suddenly stands up.

“Ah, Geralt” He mutters, causing me to look up and forget about it completely.

The witcher has indeed returned. He gives us a side glance as all signs that he recognizes our presence. Then, tightly pursing his lips, he moves on to where Roach patiently waits outside the inn. He picks something up from the saddle and saves it in his pocket.

“What is it?” Jaskier asks, hovering behind him. Geralt sternly pulls at Roach.

“It’s not an ordinary vampire” I frown in confusion until I remember he’s returning from a witcher job. “It’s a bruxa”

“A what now?”

“A bruxa, Jaskier. They are very powerful vampires”

He blinks repeatedly, watching me in awe. When he quickly turns to Geralt, however, the smile that nearly reached his mouth vanishes. I understand why, as I wasn’t used to seeing that intensity in his golden eyes either.

“Huh… Watch out, Geralt, Nissa here might steal your job”

The bard’s attempt to lighten the mood fails miserably as the witcher ignores it. He moves with adamant determination, and we quietly follow behind him. I take Pal with us too. To our surprise, the witcher doesn’t oppose.

The outskirts of Rinde are isolated and eerie. Only a few lonely trees fill the vast wasteland around us. The ground under our boots is soft, covered in green moss and dark brown soil. The temperature drops the more we distance ourselves from the city.

Although Geralt has now voiced his annoyance with us following after him, we make a strong case saying we are a team and have his back... despite the fact that neither Jaskier nor I are as skilled as a witcher, or even as a warrior, especially in the bard’s case. None of that matters, at least three pair of eyes see better than two or one.

I jolt up and cling on to Jaskier’s arm when an unnatural sound floats around us. No matter how embarrassed I am by my gesture, he seems to reciprocate. Seeking my comfort as well, his hands seeks my own.

“W-What…” He gulps, squeezing my hand tight. “What, uh… What the hell… Was that the…?”

“Yes” The witcher dryly says, taking ahold of his silver sword. It glistens with some sort of oil. “Stay here”

We are more than happy to follow his instructions, but as soon as he takes one step, they are rendered useless. We aren’t any safer staying here.

A man runs our direction, waving his arms and calling for help. His attacker soon appears amongst the darkness of the night, lunging at him. It is a pale creature, looking as though it tried to resemble a woman with dark hair but failed miserably. If that was an actual woman, she would be deadly ill and deranged.

Geralt yells and wildly swings his sword, but it’s too late. The bruxa is already feeding on that poor bastard, devouring him alive with visceral hunger. The witcher cusses loudly. Feeling light-headed at the sight, I turn my head in the other direction. My stomach turns and I feel sick. There’s so much blood. Jaskier has the exact same reaction as we both face our backs to the cruel violence. Our palms urgently press together. The man’s screams only worsen our state. The metallic sound of Geralt’s sword slaying the bruxa’s flesh is just as harrowing. A deafening screeching noise follows. The three of us groan in unison, gritting our teeth as the shriek resonates in our very bones. I stick to Jaskier’s side, clutching his hand as I wait for it to end. Two thuds distract us from the unsettling feeling that has nestled within us. The sound has fortunately stopped.

“Fuck!” The gruff voice says not far from us. The both of us run to the witcher just as he collapses on the ground. Our hands drift.

“Geralt!” The creature has bitten through his thick leather pauldrons, and his black clothes are now stained with crimson blood. I grimace when I notice a good part of his neck skin is missing, revealing even more blood. My eyes then move to the figures on the ground.

The poor man is now dead, lying motionless on the ground. Blood covers his corpse, and his skin has brutally been ripped out in several places. The bruxa, although managing to injure Geralt before being slayed, now lies dead as well. The sight is absolutely ghastly.

I tremble slightly while Jaskier tries to pull the witcher to his feet. I am about to do move to help when I hear that hissing sound once more. The bruxa is still alive. It has killed a man. It has hurt my friend. Suddenly I am filled with anger and move on an instinct as I shout and pull out my dagger. The creature hisses defiantly when I face it.

“Nissa, no!” An urgent tug at my wrist sends me stumbling backwards.

As I recover my balance, the witcher sends one of his magical signs to the bruxa, that goes flying backwards and away from us.

“Get to the horses” Geralt brushes Jaskier’s hand off his arm. “I’ll be there in a moment”

“But-“ I stupidly mutter, eyes darting from him to where the creature disappeared from.

“Now!” It is thanks to his command that Jaskier pulls at me to do as we were asked.

“We need to get him some bandages” He reminds me, still tugging at me. “Nissa?”

Nodding my head, I realize he is right. Even if he says it in a desperate attempt to divert my attention from the deathly peril the witcher is currently in, I resign myself to go with Jaskier and reunite with the horses.

My bones seem to bounce with how violently I am stepping as I run. My heart beats in my throat. When we finally reach Pal and Roach not far from us, I hurry to search the saddlebag. Pal stirs, perhaps sensing my restlessness. I cling on to the bandages as soon as I find them.

“You have been traveling with him for a while” I mutter to Jaskier as my fingers struggle to fasten the bag closed. “How do you not have a nervous breakdown worrying about him?”

“Sometimes I’m just in as precarious situation as he is, to be honest” He chuckles, leaning a hand on the saddle. It is shaking lightly.

“That’s not funny” I glare at him, playing with the gauzes in my hands.

“You usually laugh at my jokes…” Jaskier defends himself, shrugging one shoulder.

“Not when… when... Melitele, that was… so violent…” I gulp, scrunching the fabric I hold. “And Geralt…”

My friend stands before me, resting his hands over mine so I stop tightening them more and more. My knuckles have turned white from how much force I inflict upon those bandages.

“He will be alright”

There is a tired yet uplifting look in his eyes when they lock with mine. I heave a trembling sigh, glancing down to his fingers over mine. They are warm and comforting no matter how lightly they lean against my skin.

The both of us look behind Jaskier when a figure makes his way closer to us. Geralt drags his feet over the ground as well as his sword. His free hand is putting pressure on the wound and his jaw is tightly clenched. Once again, I forsake the comfort Jaskier provided me with and run to the witcher.

“Are you alright?” I anxiously ask him as I stop before him.

“Never better” He sarcastically grins at me.

“Don’t give me that, Geralt” Making sure not to touch his wound, I push down on his shoulders to save the height difference.

The witcher grunts in annoyance despite letting me move his hand away. I exhale in anguish when I closely look at the wound. Forgetting about the nasty sight, I fold some of the bandages and push them against his tore skin. He grunts again.

“At least Nissa makes a good medic” Jaskier hesitantly watches over my shoulder. I don’t pay attention to him in favor of the injured witcher.

Using the remaining bandages, I wrap them around the folded ones and tightly tie them over his shoulder blade to keep them in place. That should hopefully stop the bleeding.

Not waiting for my blessing, Geralt then walks past me and closer to Roach. He doesn’t speak to address what happened. He seems eager to leave. He doesn’t speak at all.

Geralt hasn’t said a word. Something tells me that man wasn’t the only victim he witnessed at the hands of the vampire. That explains the gloom expression he bore when he quickly returned to the inn for supplies.

“I… Geralt…” Jaskier tries. His voice quivers as he closely watches his friend.

“Fuck off” He replies, not bothering to glance at us. There is anger in his voice as well as in the way his hand aggressively pushes against the wound on his neck.

Jaskier and I exchange a concerned look in response to his stubbornness. Geralt drags himself to the room, with us closely behind.

“You need to talk to us, back there…” When we reach the door, he quickly turns to us. That is enough to silence me, given the dangerous glint in his eye.

I freeze as I hold his gaze. He doesn’t say anything else, only stomps into the room. Trying to follow after him in order to comfort him for his certain distress, I take a step. Jaskier pulls at my arm just in time to avoid me getting hit with the door as Geralt slams it closed.

“We should leave him alone” Jaskier speaks next to me, voice gloom. “Give him a moment…”

“No, he’s clearly upset!” I turn to Jaskier, who sighs. His brow is furrowed in worry.

“Trust me, Nissa” Slightly defeated, he lets go of my arm. His gaze drops, even if he briefly lifts it back up in hesitance. “It’s best if we give him some space”

I feel too restless to do nothing, so I reach out for the doorknob. Jaskier is quick to hold my wrist before I can turn it.

“I just told you-”

“I’m talking to him”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips tightly.

“That’s not a good idea, love” Jaskier gently tugs at my hand, but I am not convinced. “You haven’t seen him when he gets like this”

“Well, I’m going to” Giving up to my stubbornness, he lets go of my hand with an exasperated flourish and gestures for me to be his guest and give it a try. I pause to take a deep breath.

I knock on the door and wait, earning no answer. At least that’s better than being yelled at again. Jaskier and I exchange a glance, and he nods encouragingly at me. Cautiously opening the door and peeking inside, I find Geralt facing his back to me as he sits on the bed.

“Do you mind if I come in?” I utter timidly, but he doesn’t move.

Hoping I’m not tempting fate, I step inside and close the door behind me. Jaskier is already walking away, resigned to patiently wait for me while I try and talk to the witcher. The room sinks into silence when the commotion of the tavern is muffled by the walls. I open my mouth, only to close it again. Words rarely escape me, but I am timorous of saying the wrong thing.

“You don’t have to, but…” I believe that’s a good start when he lightly turns to me. “But I’m here if you want to talk”

He is clutching his shoulder dripping with blood, forcefully pressing the bandages against his wound to stop the bleeding. My words make him frown thoughtfully.

“I know I can’t save everyone” Geralt speaks in a monotonous voice, still not facing me.

He did speak, however. A feeling tells me I’m on the right track, so I try to say something more. Nonetheless, I dare not to walk closer.

“I’m not Jaskier, I know when to shut up” I joke, smiling at him, but he only dips his head.

Geralt might not be the bubbliest person, but I know in other circumstances he might have hummed in amusement to my silly little comment. Instead of holding it against him, however, I lean on the door behind me, resting my hands between it and my back. I am willing to stand there in silence for as long as he needs to. All night if necessary. Even if he didn’t say a word after that. I just refuse to leave him alone. Unless he asks me to.

“There were more people there” To my shock, he speaks again. “Many more”

I hope I manage to conceal my surprise when we lock eyes. Geralt is clenching his jaw in annoyance, but for the first time I can read the genuine emotion and regret in his eyes. He is unwilling to voice the effect it had on him, though he does not need to. He doesn’t have to keep speaking for me to understand how much it weighs on him. However, he continues to talk. And I listen in silence.

“I wasn’t fast enough” He tightens his fists. His voice sounds deeper than usual, if that’s possible. There is a certain pain in it that makes it sounds hoarse and broken. “When I got there, the bruxa was already shredding them to pieces”

I grimace at the mental picture, furthermore when the images of what I witnessed vividly return to me. However, I remain faithful to my purpose here.

“You did what you could, Geralt” I watch him intently, but he averts his gaze. “It was not your fault, you… you did your absolute best”

The witcher doesn’t reply, and quits glancing in my general direction from the corner of his eye. Seeing that my words aren’t quite having the desired effect, I slowly approach him. He doesn’t complain about it, so I sit by his side, although not extremely close. I want to leave him a bit of space. The witcher doesn’t move nor respond. For a moment, we sit there in complete quietness. I hope my presence at least proves comforting to him if only by my moral support.

The door suddenly swings open with a creek, and I look to see Jaskier. Geralt doesn’t turn. The bard interrogates me with his gaze, so I nod. Understanding what I mean, Jaskier walks in. Before he can accidentally ruin all progress, I shove a finger against my lips. Obedient, he resigns himself to stand there quietly and leave it to me.

Geralt briefly sighs, looking away from both of us. I glance over my shoulder to Jaskier, who frowns slightly when we lock eyes. He nods encouragingly and I continue speaking.

“They may not realize it, but the world needs people like you” I cautiously reach out to rub his arm, but he pulls away. A soft yet deeply sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips.

“You are too kind, Nissa...” At least he’s saying something now. “I thought people needed me too”

“I-I don’t mean witchers” I correct myself, realizing my thoughts didn’t quite come through as I intended. “I meant good men, like you. Someone kind and strong capable of protecting them, not only from the creatures that witchers hunt”

“I’m not a human” He insists, seemingly sunken into a pessimistic state that will be hard to pull him out of.

“Well, still-“

“I appreciate the sentiment” His golden eyes seem darker than usual as he looks at me. “But what you’re saying is not true”

“It is to me” I timidly shrug to show him I’m being genuine, I truly believe what I’m telling him.

“To me too, Geralt” Jaskier slowly nods his head, trying to convey how honest he’s being.

I look at Geralt and catch a glimpse of the beginning of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his mouth in the end.

“I… You better cheer up, grumpy” I pat his shoulder, also giving it a gentle squeeze to let him know that, while I am joking, I do mean my words. “Or else I will have to put up with Jaskier tonight on my own”

A proper smile, no matter how small, finally reaches his lips. Geralt nods his head in acknowledgement. Quietly, yet he does.

“Hang on a minute” Jaskier catches up to what I’m trying to do and joins in. “You are not ‘putting up with me’, alright? You are being blessed with my charming presence”

“Yeah” I wrinkle my nose at him. “Of course we are”

Jaskier purses his lips trying not to smile. A glint appears in his eye. Geralt only grunts. He is slowly returning to being himself.

“Now” I face Geralt once more, slowly approaching him to ensure it won’t bother him. “Let me take a look at that wound before you bleed to death”

He doesn’t complain when I stand before him, so I reach out for his wound. I gulp when I see the blood, and my hands are shaking slightly. No matter how many times I have watched Shani do this in Vizima, I haven’t treated anyone myself.

“Since when are you a medic, Nissa?” Jaskier sits down in the other bed, in front of Geralt.

“I’m not” I grimace as I watch the worrisome wound that won’t stop bleeding. “But I knew someone in Vizima who was”

I ask Jaskier to fetch me the satchel and he quickly does, returning to his spot in the bed after handing it to me. I gather some alcohol and bandages from it and return to putting pressure over the wound, waiting for it to quit bleeding.

“I often went to visit her and learned a few things about treating wounds” I continue in the hopes that my story is distracting Geralt. “Hana didn’t like that I spent so long around sick or injured people, though”

Their eyes are on me, which rattles me a bit. I try to focus on his shoulder instead. It is a hard task, as I hear the bard offering Geralt to squeeze his hand if he’s in pain. It is quite distracting when he chuckles as well, but groans when the witcher slaps his outstretched hand away.

When the wound finally stops bleeding thanks to my efforts, I drench the clean side of the fabric in alcohol and gingerly press it against Geralt’s shoulder. He groans but doesn’t flinch.

“Since you’re keeping me alive” He says, looking up at me. “I’ll share my coin with you”

“You’re keeping you alive, Geralt” I shake my head at him. “I’m only patching you up in any poor way that I can”

“I wasn’t asking, Nissa”

“Does that make me the group’s unofficial medic?”

“Yes” The witcher smirks. “Though you might treat Jaskier more often than me”

“Oi!” The aforesaid complains, pointing a finger at him in vexation.

Geralt rolls his eyes, and I have to grin while I continue my cares. I am suddenly enveloped by a feeling of warmth. I have seen the light and dark side of them, of their company and their endeavor. And with it all, I am certain that I have made the right decision.

Tag list: @x-joie-x / @x-jodi-x / @dancingwith-thesunflowers / @golden-guide / @alwayshave-faith / @this-is-whump-dammit / @legallyblindgamer727 / @lilyevans1 / @kingniazx / @molethemollie // Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list to be notified when I post next chapter!!

#please reblog!!#jaskier x oc #jaskier x reader #soul of a warrior #soaw #witcher #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #oc #original character

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sirjustice1007 · 3 years

Text

New TV

Curved TV the other way on the short vertical sides either outwards or inwards not as the normal way in the link below, reduces spirit of people keen with ya if u watch such, so can be again glued to ya screen 4 more hours dude

https://news.samsung.com/global/hot-tips-for-choosing-a-cool-tv-part-3-a-wall-mount-or-stand

Guava in carrot in raised bar like huge rock or big pole and then chop kale on the ground in the dark or scoop to grab like paw paw seeds or cereals as millet or hide from the pillar below as if of shame squatted 2 people 1 holding on 1 arms, if u want it the up way do such above the bar with the heap maybe on drone or if next to a water body chop carrot inside boat or mix water with urine now the heap on the ground or chop paw paw or guava with panga, broken glass or sickle dude

Made in Africa ships images links below

https://www.thelivefeeds.com/photos-fg-donates-made-in-nigeria-drugs-to-cameroons-train-accident-victims/

https://abovewhispers.com/2020/08/12/ghana-build-naval-boats-locally/

https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/aircraft-lockers.html

https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2020/jan/09/worlds-fastest-driverless-automated-bullet-train-launches-beijing-china-olympics

https://blog.lamresearch.com/silicon-snack-pilotless-passenger-jets-more-than-a-blue-sky-idea/

https://southsoundbiz.com/boeings-unmanned-passenger-aircraft-completes-first-flight/

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20130502-pilotless-planes-plan-to-take-off

https://safety4sea.com/40-consider-unmanned-ships-to-be-viable-within-20-years/

https://phys.org/news/2017-09-unmanned-ships-cargo-industry-dearly.html

https://www.businessinsider.com/rolls-royce-drone-ships-2014-2?IR=T

https://www.foxtechfpv.com/foxtech-diamond-6s-22000mah-semi-solid-state-lipo-battery.html

With trains and some ships u hide the marble, cotton wool, cattle bones and more inside small dug holes or in the water with ship heap in between u hide the marble or flowers inside coolers on both side or make holes on floating timber and hide the same as with Xmas lights b4 doing ya boom process and even with most jets and choppers dude or all the placed sideways in the factory house where their is the heap on its two side create ditches or tunnels with enclosure inside water to heap every fruit or marble used in the boom process 4 the gadget u want to come out or under mattress with water dude placed in side holes bro Or sometimes can be placed and hidden upward as with the airplane or bus inside luggage storing facility dude but runs horizontally to the hole as florescent bulbs are hanged on the ceiling dude or AC metallic ventilators or the veggies, fruits, bones, marbles placed on each side of the boom heap can be hidden in boxes or containers and even bags as polythene of different colors 4 different machines as its trial and error until u unearth or get it dude

U can even hide in made holes outside or within the factory house or just above the floor or ground surface dude

Dog meat when cooked rejuvenates ya hairline, so can be placed in boom process of some produce as medicine or other meat produce and vegetables and milk or juices to have that ripple effect in small magnitude but if taken 4 a long time gets ya hairline back or mixed in injection drugs to do the same bro and its utility

With some fruits or veggies hidden divide into 2 or many sides and try as well with such and in some situation divide not dude

Built in Ghana yachts in the links below

https://web.facebook.com/OhemaaLXI/?_rdc=1&_rdr

https://www.atelier55design.com/travel-ghana-cruising-lake-volta-with-the-ohemaa-lxi/

https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g147311-d19457950-Reviews-Soma_Yachts-Montego_Bay_Saint_James_Parish_Jamaica.html#photos;aggregationId=&albumid=&filter=3&ff=468302283

The Electric yacht in the link below made when illuminated photo from the project rest on heap of paw paw then u chop guava on another boat the other side of the heap in the lake or trample on rodents as rat or maize cereal or drop coconut on timber on the shore side in smokey environment in moonlight or place white guava in kale then chop mango in hay presence on 2 boats in between the heap floating on water or spit saliva unto the ocean water from the drone as much as drop flowers unto the kale guava heap dude and boom ya yacht bro in dark this time

https://pro-yachts.com/en/the-best-electric-yachts/

Same as below can be built using armored glass tunnel instead of concrete that rust not by placing hay in kale in floating woods on ya wanted train path after taking the underground survey of shallow point and leveling with made stones, rustles metals with holes all around to be permeable to allow air on water circulation to avoid water smelling and even armored glass itself b4 lowering the final tunnel as above, after placing hay in kale then hurl with cucumber or kojet in bright day or night or with cabbage, mango or lemon seed and boom ya armored glass tunnel all way through the floating on boards heap or break camara stick or on both sides of the heap many small boats hurl salt unto the heap or paw paw unto the sea water and lemon unto the fresh water lake water or operate washing machines on such boats dude. Not rocket science dude

https://www.devdiscourse.com/Article/headlines/270896-update-1-us-and-uk-reach-new-post-brexit-deal-on-air-services

Armored glass cylinder with same glass lid made when hay placed kale then u chop ripe banana or chop boxes, leaf onion or drop cabbage on water from another boat, the heap above in dump truck in sea shore or flattened land just adjacent to the shore u off shore or next to the sea and the heap or in yacht far away from the shore but in water. Hay in kale then trample on paw paw trunk in the sea close to the shore in moonlight makes such gas cylinder off the boat carrying the heap in the middle 2 of u doing the same on each side and with many gadgets or on both sides of the dump truck or shoot paw paw, palm tree back, grown or artificially planted 4 the same and even any big tree around dude

War ships made in Nigeria images in the link below

https://www.nairaland.com/951727/jonathan-commissions-nns-andoni-warship/2

Kale in much onion then u on small boats on each side of the heap in twilight or evening with smoke fumes around and flowers scattered on water side or paw paw leaves, u urinate with pipes unto the heap or unto the water adjacent or chop corpse hand or mango seed or carrots as much as cucumber on a norther floating boat from a boat in-front of the heap on both sides and boom ya big ship as in the link below or on water close grass floating drop detergent unto it or paw paw unto the heap cow dung floating like in a wood piece bro

https://spectrum.ieee.org/transportation/marine/the-struggle-to-make-dieselguzzling-cargo-ships-greener

Or illuminate 3d camera on floating heap of any fruit, veggies or leaf and u on the shore or on two boats as above try all the boom process as dropping, trampling and chopping is concerned until it comes out dude, Xmas lights or marble floating on card-boards from each side either in heaps or straight line or paw paw and many other floating fruits as those in the link above in below dimension dude as most other none water operating gadgets made same way as u can try dude and even in rivers bro and even on land with many gadgets needs 2 sides even in drop theorem, either u drop on the flat ground or into a dug shallow way in a synchronized manner dude like with Gas cylinders and Brazier as Jikos and much electronics either squatted, sited down, bending or standing and others on 4 sides while others on triangle way meaning 3 sides all boom process done synchronously while others in a sole manner bro. In some cases u cry kinda or close eye and sometimes wink and or wide eyed dude or sometimes lying on the ground looking heaven, side ways or on ya belly dropping from side hands, seeing or not seeing and sometimes just need a touch of any veggies or fruits and boom ya machine. Try all the tricks until it come out what u want with projector way which fails not dude. Sometimes heap to be dropped or placed upon in raise bars as rocks or buckets or stools b4 u do the same dude and sometimes hanged from a stand or tree or sometimes in a boat or car boot. All direction same direction or different dude South, west, north or East, up or down or looking sideways, back bent or sometimes nodding head dude, sometimes 1 hand on the ground while place not sited or sited with the other hand, kinda, in toilet dude. U can even hide in made holes outside or within the factory house or just above the floor or ground surface dude.

They give lame excuse, that if u dont do that way u risk not getting well ahead in life, not with me, try with another 1 those silly tricks of ya own making not listening dude

Made in Nigeria military weapon in the link below, check it out dude

https://www.nairaland.com/1917837/yes-nigeria-what-it-takes

https://www.businessinsider.com/it-looks-like-an-armed-chinese-made-drone-crashed-in-nigeria-2015-1?IR=T

https://twitter.com/africaupdates/status/1053887766369656832/photo/1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awycpN0luSQ

http://makerfaireafrica.com/2012/11/05/tuktuk-mods-in-nigeria-limo-jeep-and-a-bike/

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evolutionsvoid · 5 years

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When it comes to Slimes, most of their variations and different forms are a result of their environment. It is just like how a species can diverge from its own as it adapts to a new land or role, but Slimes rarely become a different species. Rather their behavior, shape and abilities slowly change to fit the new habitat, like how a human would change as they moved from a coastal home to a desert one. So if I ever want to talk about a different form of Slime, it is important to mention they environment they live in, as sometimes it can quite literally shape them into what they are today! The Slimes that I write of now are known as Acid Slimes (or Leg-Eaters), and they are beings that are found mainly in Hivelands. It is true that they can inhabit other rocky places, but most of their populations are found exclusively in these rare biomes. So rare are these places, that I should probably explain what Hivelands are. They are places that are found on the arid continent, only forming under extremely specific circumstances. From a distance, some may believe that Hivelands are just like mountainous regions, with the exception of the tall spire-like growths. I mean, they are just towering structures of rock right? Indeed there is rock involved, but that is not what forms this land. Travel closer to these hills and you will notice that the stone seems quite porous, with an impossible number of holes bored through it. Perhaps then you may realize that it is not a mountain you are walking on, but a hive. Looking at the name, it may seem obvious to you that this realm is made entirely of hives, but many folk don't really grasp what this really means. How could anyone even fathom such a thing until they saw it with their own eyes? That was what happened with me! I had read of these environments for years, and dreamed of seeing them myself, but my imagination failed to truly capture the real deal! Towers and spires that grow faster than trees, the ground beneath your roots trembling with the activity of millions of tiny insects, the music of the wind as it flows through the hollow earth. It is impossible to truly describe it! All of this is the result of massive colonies of termite-like insects called Mountain Makers, who constantly shape the landscape with their powerful mandibles and binding secretions. They quite literally carve the earth and rock into pieces and glue it all back together to make their ever-changing hives. This creates a land of pure chaos, towers grow and crumble, and valleys deepen and vanish. It is a beautiful sight to see, but it is a dangerous place to be! Even if you excluded some of its more deadly inhabitants, Hivelands are not places one should take lightly. Due to the ever-changing landscape, it is quite easy to get lost and its porous structure makes every step a risk. While this chewed-and-glued stonework is resilient, it leaves hundreds of holes and openings for one to trip on or twist a root. It is also capable of crumbling beneath your feet if you happen to hit a particularly worn spot. Due to the constant work of Mountain Makers and the burrowing of other inhabitants, it is possible for the ground to be riddled with sinkholes and pits, all waiting for some fool to fall through. If you don't test the ground before you step on it, you can easily smash right through the earth and take a nasty fall. Just hope there aren't any Pitfall Moles waiting for you down there! And if the stone does hold your weight, you have to keep an eye out for any nasty surprises that may wait in the many holes and burrows. One such thing to worry about are the Acid Slimes. The Acid Slime gets its name from the caustic fluid that it pseudobody secretes, which it uses to burrow through the ground and digest unwary critters. This acid seems to be made from the combination of fluids taken from prey, waste products and a special oil its slime generates. The result is a thick liquid that burns flesh on contact and can eat away at rock. It coats its outer layer with the stuff, making even contact with these Slime dangerous. In a pinch, it can spit gobs of this caustic stuff at fleeing prey or attacking predators, making it a long range weapon as well. This combined with the Slime's fluid form make them perfect for the Hivelands, as they stuff themselves into the smallest of burrows and burn through any they don't fit in. As long as their hearts can fit, the Acid Slime can slither in and hunt. While they can search the honeycombed rock for any hiding critters, they often prefer a bigger meal. This leads us to the reason they are also called "Leg-Eaters."

When they decide to hunt for a meal, Acid Slimes will jam themselves in a hole and wait for prey to come by. Often their hiding spots are near vegetation or a source of water (which can be scarce when the ground is filled with holes) so that it is more likely for a victim to wander by. When something tasty passes by their hole, they will lash out with a slimy appendage and try to snare them. Due to their hiding place, most attacks wind up being aimed at the victim's leg. By wrapping their tendrils around the limb, they can keep prey from fleeing and also knock them off their feet. The moment their slime hits flesh, the acid begins to eat away at it. The pain and damage can stun prey, long enough for the Acid Slime to surge from its hole and overwhelm them. If the victim puts up too much of a fight, the Slime may choose to remain in its hiding spot and instead try to pull its meal in. Though they are gooey, they are quite strong, which means they can yank prey into holes that aren't big enough for them. If this happens, the victim is usually a goner, as having all those bones crushed isn't very healthy. Those who get grabbed by the snare of an Acid Slime need to break free from its grip as soon as possible. Even if they can keep the rest of the Slime from enveloping them, the caustic grip can cause serious damage. If one stays trapped in its snare too long, the acid may just sever their leg entirely. With a hardy yank, some victims have had their scorched appendages yanked right off, leaving a charred stump in its place. It is not uncommon to see scars and missing legs in communities that border Hivelands, validating the name "Leg-Eater." Since Acid Slimes are still Slimes, there is a chance that some of these beings may be intelligent. Any Slime is capable of learning things like speech, reasoning and mercy, but some may choose to ignore such things. Acid Slimes tend to favor instinct and primal desires over things like "conversation" and "bartering," so attempts to reason with them or appease them is quite tough. Rather, it is best to watch your step and keep a walking stick handy when you traverse the Hivelands. It is a nice tool to keep your balance, but it is invaluable when it comes to testing the sturdiness of the ground or checking for any hidden predators. I have thankfully avoided any such attackers during my studies, thanks to this simple tool. I have, however, had a number of walking sticks get sucked into some dark burrow when I started to prod around. When that happened, I just turned around and walked the other way. Best to find a different route, as I am quite attached to my roots! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ---------------------------------------------------- More Slimes and a wacky biome to go with it! What if termite mounds were just the entire landscape?

#monster #creature #art #drawing #slime #goop #hive

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selfdulgent-selfinsert · 5 years

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Caught in the Middle. (A self-indulgent, reader insert) Chapter 24:

Hey everyone! Thanks for being so patient with this next chapter! This chapter contains the aftermath of rape; I have tried to pay it as much respect as it demands but if you see something that needs to be omitted or added please message me and let me know. This is a sensitive topic and I don’t want to portray it improperly.

Frigid. Your entire body felt numb, yet it ached in the most revolting way. You wanted to vomit, rip your skin off. Anything that could separate you from how you felt both inside and out. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes. Sitting entrapped in Ruviks embrace. His arms holding you tight to his lap while he whispered into your ear. His whispers were like screams of torment as he offered pathetic consolation. Wanting nothing more than to beat him yourself, but your body was so tired. Utterly exhausted though, your emotions still swarmed like a hurricane inside you. Ruviks right hand moved to your thigh; flinching violently in his grip. “It’s okay sunflower, you’ve learned your lesson haven’t you? It won’t happen again as long as you behave…” Could he be any worse? Most likely, but his words struck a chord. Beginning to thrash violently in his grip. Ruviks fingers digging into your sore flesh as he tried in vain to keep you against him. Your body escaping with fresh red welts from his nails. Collapsing at his feet you spat at him in rage. “Don’t fucking touch me you bastard!” His face growing cold, leaning back in his decrepit seat as if it was a throne. Watching as you curled within yourself. “On the contrary sunflower. I may do what I please to you.” He smirked, eyeing you from under his hood. His emotions turning on a dime, with amusement heavy in his tone. “You belong to me, and you will learn to behave.” Like an animal on its haunches you began pushing yourself away from the monster sat in front of you. Your words dripping with venom and pent rage. “I belong to no one but myself. You have no right to hurt me!” “You may think that, but your tiny mind is so perfectly malleable… you bend so perfectly under my touch. You can be so well behaved.” His legs spread wider, exuding power and confidence. Your stomach was churning but you had to get up. You couldn’t cower in his presence any longer. Shaky legs held you up as your world spun. The bare room around you coming in and out of focus. “Let me take control sunflower. I know what you need, what you deserve… There is no one else who could ever fit me so perfectly. You are made for me.” He stood, sauntering over to you. The man who had brought you so much pain and had treated you so poorly saw you as some selfish conquest. The scope of Ruviks madness was slowly coming together in your mind. His façade being chipped away the more you had fought him. Had he ever really loved you as he claimed? Maybe? But probably not. What he saw in you, you had no idea but the love you held for him was shattered. He was hiding things from you. If he could make Joseph do such horrible acts, he certainly could do much more. He came closer, his aura suffocating you. As if your will to fight grew smaller the closer he became. It dawned upon you. The many times you had become complacent, was Ruvik. Somehow he had such a power over you; to a point where he could influence your behavior. Sure you preferred a submissive role in your sexual life, but before entering S.T.E.M. that behavior was your choice, delegated to only sexual activity. But could he have the power to manipulate your whole being? Make you act a certain way… Ruvik took your arm and wrapped them around his neck, forcing you into an embrace. “That’s it sunflower, isn’t better when you behave? Such a good girl…” His touch burnt, like claws of molten iron. Your arms felt locked in place as if something was holding them in place, yet nothing was there. You had no slack to struggle, but your legs were free. Bringing up your leg straight into his crotch. Hard enough to separate the two of you. A noise of pain came from Ruvik but you didn’t stick around to see if he was okay. Pushing him away as you bolted from the room; entering into the decrepit halls of an apartment building. You could hear Ruvik scream in rage behind you. The familiar warping around you, grabbing at you but it could never keep its hold. It would grab and you could feel it try and pull you away from your surroundings. Like it was trying to warp you away; preventing your escape but it could not take its hold. Slipping out of its grip every time as you barreled through the building and out into the street. As you came running into the open, countless beasts turned to you. Their patrolling rounds interrupted as they began charging at you. Weapons at the ready. You kept running, unsure of how you hadn’t collapsed by now. How the warping couldn’t get you; but there was no time to think, the destroyed streets cluttered with debris were becoming a detriment as they allowed the following horde to catch up with you. Looking around, the only place you had any hope of leaving the group behind was a small alley, blocked by some iron bars. There was no way you could climb over but perhaps you may be able to squeeze through. Darting to your immediate left, into the tighter path and forcing your body sideways into the grate. Your extremities slid through but the bars just prevented your torso from sliding through. You could hear the cried and growls behind you as you pushed out all the air in your lungs. Trying to make your chest as small as possible. It moved slightly, now halfway between the bars as you gave another tremendous push. Still not entirely through. The horde made it to the alleyway and the monsters tried to reach you. The entirety of the group trying to enter the alley, forcing them to become stuck on each other and slow considerably. Their filthy wrought hands reaching for you as their jaws gnashed together.

You had no air to feed your body, the corners of your vision began growing dark as you pushed with all your strength. Praying you’d pop through or pass out before the horde reached you. Your torso sliding through the bars as the force of your push sent you through completely and onto the dirt. Gasping in pain as air re-entered your lungs. Burning just and Ruviks hands had. Looking behind you, the horde had managed to sort itself out and the first in line ran straight into the bars. A loud clang resounding as one’s skull smashed directly into a bar. They were trapped on the other side, arms reaching through trying to grasp and swing their small melee weapons. Your pain faded much too quick, reminding you of how it felt when dreaming. It wasn’t really there. You were aware of S.T.E.M. you were now aware of Ruviks possible extent of control. Did your level of awareness limit its effects? Pushing yourself up, leaving the horde behind as you ventured deeper into the alley. Climbing through and over more obstacles into a tight side street. “(Y/N!)” You froze, looking around but seeing no one until you heard metallic footsteps above you. “Sebastian!” You called upwards as he began to climb down off of a fire escape. Landing in front of you. His arms outstretched towards you but he hesitated. Seeming to battle with something within himself. Though his raised arms were too tempting; throwing yourself into his chest and breaking down. Sobbing into him, finally able to feel safe as he wrapped his arms around you. Holding you tightly as you sobbed heavily, hyperventilating even. Sebastian eased you to the ground, rubbing your back gently; his head rests atop yours as he gave you the first bit of actual comfort you’d had in what felt like a long while. “Shhhh (y/n), what’s wrong? Can you tell me?” He gave you all the time you could ever need but as you opened your mouth, the only word to come out was “Ruvik…” before you began hyperventilating again as you tried to elaborate. Tears streaming down your face as you ugly cried in the street. Sebastian holding you gently and doing his best to dry your tears. You clambered into his lap, clinging to Sebastian’s shoulders for dear life. You eventually were able to articulate what had happened, Joseph included. Sebastian’s face was a mix of shock and anger, his hands staining so hard against your skin. Trying his best to not crush you with his hands. Sebastian felt so consumed by anger, how dare Ruvik do such a horrible thing to you. He held you so close to him, rocking you slightly. It felt hard to breathe but it was hard to tell if it was from just Sebastian or from hyperventilating so much, or both. “I’m so sorry (y/n)… I’m so sorry…” He mumbled into your hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” Honestly, there wouldn’t have been anything Sebastian could have done. Ruvik rules this world and while Sebastian’s words didn’t make you feel better, his concern and worry for you was what helped mend your wounds. To Sebastian you’re a person who he cares for; wants to protect and see grow. He wasn’t like Ruvik, he didn’t want to consume your being and force you into something he wanted.

Sebastian made you feel human again.

Growling came from the distance. Looking back to the alleyway you had come from, only to find the path gone. Sebastian pulled from you, pulling you to your feet but keeping your hand in his; other glued to his pistol. “We need to keep going…” you nodded in response. Eyes still puffy and not really over your tears but your situation didn’t really allow for you to stop for long. Sebastian led you further down the narrow street. The sparse shoots of weeds biting at your tender flesh; a metal staircase leading into another warehouse-like building was a welcome relief to your ankles. Inside was a room cluttered with mannequins, some whole and others in parts but it was no less unnerving. You separated briefly as Sebastian began to root through the freestanding lockers while you puttered about with the false limbs. A loud bang resounded through the room as a monster threw themselves at Sebastian from inside a locker. Grabbing onto his neck tightly. Without even thinking, you grabbed a leg and swung it at the beast. The limb exploding into dust and plaster chunks upon contact with your target. Forcing it to release Sebastian and stumble back. Sebastian coughed from the dust exploding in his face, pushing you back behind him. The monster standing upright once more and pulled a stick out of his pocket, lighting it. An explosive no doubt; Sebastian walked the two of you to one of the tables scattered in the room. Doing his best to still his coughing, he drew his gun. Firing right into the beasts head and dropping him to the floor. Coughing loudly, he dumped the table to the ground, its contents shattering on the floor as he pulled you to hide behind it. Finally dispelling the dust from his lungs as the explosive went off; the table bumping back into the two of you from the force. Your ears were ringing slightly as you sat, catching your breath as the dirt settled in the blood spatter around you. “Thanks.” Sebastian huffed, out of breath from coughing. “No problem. We protect each other.” Your voice quiet and soft. He reached for you again, his hand soft on your head, his finger accidentally getting caught in your hair which caused you to let out a yelp in surprise. Your face paling as your stomach flipped; tears collecting in your eyes once more. Sebastian’s face was one of horror; appalled at what Ruvik had done to you, forcing this behavior to culminate. He set his hand down, unsure of what to say. You hugged him; you didn’t want to flinch but it reminded you of what happened. His arms carefully wrapped back around you, squeezing carefully before releasing you as you sat up on your knees. He stood with you, holding his hand out for you to take, as it had always been, his flesh was warm and callused. Strong but inviting, just like him. The room yielded no path. Deciding it was no longer of use you exited the room, back into the sunlight. To your left was your way across; the metal walkway was broken and gnarled but it just perfectly lined up with a plank of metal. It must have been a truck attachment, due to its clustered wheels at one end. “I guess that’s our only way… stay behind me.” “What?” “If it breaks, I could toss you to the other side. Being behind me would give me more momentum to toss you.” “Sebastian I don’t think that’s possible. “We’ve done weirder since we got here…” He was true, it had been like an awful mix of a horror game and action movie. Sebastian had you stand a bit further back from him, your hand still tight in his grip and started slowly over the water-filled pit below. It groaned and wailed as you made your way onto the ladder. Bouncing slightly with each step. You weren’t scared of the height but instead of what lurked in the pit below you. Noticing some ripples as something swam close to the surface. It sent a shiver up your spine. Sebastian tugged on your hand lightly, trying to get you to move forward to the end of the ladder. Shuffling after him carefully, feeling slightly wobbly after looking over the edge. The end of the bridge couldn’t come soon enough. Stepping onto the crumbling asphalt and onto the safe ground was a relief. You expected the bridge to collapse behind you as you turned back to look at it, but it held strong. Leaving the structure to rot, you and Sebastian carried on.

#The Evil Within #the evil within fanfiction #the evil within x reader #Ruvik Victoriano #ruvik x reader #yandere ruvik #ruben victoriano x reader #ruben victoriano #ruben x reader #sebastian x reader #Sebastian Castellanos #sensitive conent #rape tw #mention of rape #yandere #male yandere #yandere fanfiction

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ajoraverse · 5 years

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I’m finally heading back to work and don’t know when I’ll be able to expand on this. So, feel free to laugh at my pathetic attempts to write action scenes. Or Pearl, for that matter.

Excerpt from the next chapter of Beta AU 3.

In time, which was a few hours before moonset, the warp pad shimmered and lit up. The Crystal Gems appeared in that rush of light and air, and none of them looked surprised to see her. A shadow of guilt flickered in Rose's expression just before she plastered on that fake smile of hers.

"Jasper!" The cheeriness in Rose's voice was forced; it wasn't that long ago when Jasper relayed a rebuke to her from the Antelope clan for breaking some young man's heart. "What brings you here?"

As much as she disliked having witnesses when talking about anything personal, she tried not to let the irritation about that or having to ask for anything show. "Training. That offer's still open, right?"

"Oh! Of course," Rose chuckled and glanced down at Pearl. "Would you mind, Pearl?"

"I'll be delighted." Something about the shift in Pearl's bearing suggested that she wasn't, but Jasper was hardly going to bring it up.

Rose beamed sunnily, gratefully, at Pearl. Probably for giving her an out. The more Jasper asked her questions, the less willing Rose was to answer them. Deep down, Jasper suspected that there would come a time when Rose would stop pretending to put up with her questions. "You'll do wonderfully. Have fun!"

Then, as if she wanted to get far away before Jasper asked something uncomfortable again, Rose disappeared into her room. Garnet muttered an excuse about a mission and picked up Amethyst to warp away. She was left alone with Pearl.

It was hardly unusual. She had lost count of how often Pearl had come with an accounting of errant corrupted gems running to the safety of the Great River's western banks, or with some warnings of future events from Garnet. This was new, however, and Jasper wanted to ask a dozen things, starting with; Why do you let her treat you like that?

"Rose doesn't like me, does she?" she asked rhetorically, instead. Whatever was going on between Pearl and Rose was none of her business. All she knew was that if she had a romantic partner, she wouldn't be running after someone else for fun.

"You hardly make it easy."

It was probably as much of a confirmation as she was going to get. "Someone has to keep you gems from getting too complacent." And speak up when Rose's weird proclivities for playing with human suitors and sticking her nose into private rituals were likely to get them in trouble with their neighbors. Given that the other Crystal Gems thought only the best of Rose, and her own gems were reluctant to bring up the issue, that particular task was Jasper's.

Just as well that a lifetime of putting up with malcontents muttering behind her back had inured her to any doubts about that aspect of her job as leader of the village and smothered any inclinations she may have had towards being worried about what others thought of her choices.

"Yes, well..." Pearl's eyes drifted aside, to some thought she wasn't likely to share with Jasper.

Jasper waited for Pearl's eyes to clear. She just... got like this sometimes, when Jasper accidentally set off a memory of some dark time that Pearl would never talk about. Jasper waited patiently until Pearl could finally find her words again. Then the shadows cleared and Pearl tittered uncomfortably.

"Stars! I'm sorry. We'll go to the Sky Arena and start there."

The warp wasn't long, but she still preferred walking every time. The novelty of warping had worn thin in the first hundred years after the Crystal Gems showed them how to use their pad, at least for her. Staying still while being whisked away was boring. At least when she walked, she could feel the changes in the ground beneath her feet.

"How does this thing stay up?" Jasper asked as they stepped off the warp pad. She managed to glance over the side just long enough to get a view of the ground far below. The way the whole thing shifted ever so slightly in the wind suggested that it was held aloft by nothing at all.

"Magic," Pearl said with a smirk. She knew by now how Jasper hated trite, too-simple answers.

Jasper dignified that with a grunt and looked around. This high up, the air was both bitingly cold and strangely warm from the sun. The tiles felt solid, glued in place by something far more enduring than the lime mortar humans used for their masonry. There was a grit to their surfaces that prevented slipping. If that was consistent, then that was one less thing she had to worry about with Pearl's training. The broken rubble left over from the smashing of pillars and statues were a bigger issue--she would have to be careful not to trip over the larger fragments. For the most part, what hadn't already been broken wasn't likely to fall over from a strong gust of wind. She took mental inventory of everything as Pearl led her up the stairs and into the arena itself.

It was crumbling, as all things of great age do, and there were marks of impact damage that weren't so different from the damage their ball court took during particularly rowdy games. She wondered what the carvings on the pillars said, but teaching them how to read Gem writing had never been a priority for the Crystal Gems. Jasper supposed she respected that--she had no inclination to teach Rose how to read the stones in which humans carved their directions and warnings. At least on her end, she had good reason to protect her neighboring humans from Rose's curiosity.

Finally Pearl stopped and took on that bearing she so loved to take when she was eager to tell someone what to do. Her fingers laced together, and her eyes were wide with anticipation. She evidently liked having students. Just not Jasper. After all this time, Jasper suspected that it was because her questions had a way of distressing Rose.

"Now then," Pearl said, her voice almost a chirp, "what's the extent of your combat experience?"

"Hunting wild animals, chasing off human raiding parties, and wrestling cheaters who can't win without fusion."

Pearl hummed thoughtfully. "And have you experimented with the quartz spin-dash?"

"Somewhat." When it was a new idea, anyway. She hadn't needed it for the wrestling matches, and by now she was skilled enough with her darts and thrower that she could take down an animal before it realized what was going on.

"We'll start there. Try to hit me with your spin-dash. You'll want to start a little further back."

Jasper stepped back, eyes darting around to pick up every little thing of note around her, and considered whether she really wanted to attack Pearl. She liked Pearl well enough, considering that they never agreed on Rose.

Something about her doubts must have shown on her face, for it only made Pearl smile. "Don't worry. You won't hurt me."

Jasper wasn't sure about that, but she resolved to try getting to her anyway. She dropped into the roll, used the friction of the floor tiles to her advantage, and picked up speed as her form shifted into the motions of the spin. The ground sped by quickly, and she was so close, and--

Suddenly, without warning, Pearl was gone. Jasper skidded to a stop, palmed a broken-off bit of stone, and glanced around. Pearl grinned at her from atop one of the statues, one foot not so much dangling off the statue's head as pointing elegantly downwards.

"You know how to stop before you run into anything. Good! We can work with that." Then, as if to drive home the fact that Pearl was lighter and quicker, she stepped off the statue's head, shifting her weight to the toe of the dangling foot and landing on its shoulder, and dropped to the floor with barely a spot of dust kicking up.

She would have to change her tactics.

"Let's try again. Watch me during your spin-dash and try to predict where I'll jump next."

The minutes sped by as she dropped back into her spinning ball form and chased Pearl around the arena. When she picked up speed, Pearl saw her and leapt off in another direction, forcing her to make sharp turns and circle around if she couldn't turn fast enough. It was like chasing an antelope, and the way Pearl shifted into the direction she planned on going before she leapt and pranced off somewhere else wasn't much different.

Once Pearl stopped broadcasting her motions, she truly started to shine as an evasive target. She kept Jasper thinking on her feet, something that not even the most canny of prey was able to do for long. It was exhilarating to be so focused on a target she was so close to reaching, and the hours passed quickly. Her ability to switch directions mid-dash actually seemed to improve from the practice.

By the time the sun started drawing low in the sky, Jasper figured it was time to stop playing. Her eyes never quite adjusted well to the dark.

Pearl flounced to her side and was ready to leap again. Jasper darted towards her as she had so many times during this session, and changed directions to circle back the moment Pearl made the leap. Pearl saw her change directions, moved to redirect her own landing, and Jasper spun wide behind her and stopped to lob the rock she kept in her palm for so long. She didn't even have to think to aim anymore.

The rock soared as all her darts did and hit Pearl right between the shoulder blades. None of the force she used with her darts was behind the throw, but still it got Pearl's attention.

Pearl turned, startled, and stared as the rock clattered to a stop on the tiles.

A silence settled over them, sudden and awkward, until Pearl broke it with a chuckle. "Well! That was a surprise. Where did you learn to do that?"

"Hunting."

A quick, easy smile spread across Pearl's face and lit up her pale blue eyes, as if she had actually enjoyed prancing around like that. "It's a good start. Have you considered developing a proficiency with other weapons?"

"Haven't needed to." It wasn't that her options were limited. She just didn't get much out of what was available when she already had her darts, helmet, and the sheer size and strength to make both of them deadly.

"Hm. It would benefit you to learn how to use them."

"Keep me occupied, you mean."

(tbc obviously; cultural notes: Jasper’s familiar enough with American Southwestern petroglyphs to be able to read most of them. Also mentioned are Maya stelae, which were largely used as propaganda tools.)

#SU: Beta AU

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