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ackermom · 3 years

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An Unhinged Analysis of Armin’s Martyr Complex

Author’s Note

I haven’t written a paper since I was in college, but writing this gave me the urge to bust out Kate L. Turabian’s Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations (8th edition). Be warned, I did not, so the academic integrity herein is about as secure as a slip’n’slide. I wrote this manically from memory in four hours without fact checking, except to confirm chapter numbers and source manga panels. It’s also worth saying that I don’t read much meta, so if someone has written something like this before, I apologize for cramping your style. The nature of humanity is just that every so often someone reinvents Armin’s victim complex.

Introduction

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Armin’s character and his— frankly bland— development post-time skip. I think a lot of that can be pinned to the same inconsistent writing that plagues the last thirty-odd chapters of the manga. Isayama wanted to get to his onsen as fast as possible.

But I’ve begun to form this interpretation about Armin’s post-time skip character, because I’ve struggled with some of these questions, as I think others have too: 1) why does he allow Eren to move forward without strong opposition? 2) why can’t he quite grapple with the consequences of his actions and inactions? 3) why does it take so long for him to finally do something? 4) and why does he do it… like that?

So, 5000 words of insane ramblings later...

I want to emphasize that this analysis is an exercise in interpretation. You don’t have to agree with me on any or all points. In fact, that’s the beauty of literary analysis— forming your own opinion using textual evidence is the name of the game. You can say anything as long as you can back it up. And this is not necessarily an interpretation that I believe, at least not all the time; it’s just a way of looking at things that I find interesting.

But I do think this interpretation provides the basis for a canonical explanation of Armin’s character from beginning to end of the manga. I’m one of those people who believe that chapter 139 (and the mess of an arc leading up to it) was well-intentioned, but poorly executed due to pacing issues, lack of planning, loss of motivation, and outside influences. It’s not the ending I would have written *hair flip*, but I can see what it was supposed to be, and I think— with a few generous grains of salt— that it can… work. More or less.

With that being said, this analysis is more about Armin’s character around the serumbowl and immediately afterwards leading into the time skip, as well as looking back into Armin’s progression since the beginning of the story. I will delve into the ending, but this is not a meta on that, because really what else can be said at this point.

There are also a plethora of endnotes that stem from other thoughts in this essay marked by superscript. It’s not necessary to read them when they are marked, or even at all. Just things I thought were interesting.

So let’s get into it.

Thesis

Throughout the story, Armin is portrayed as a victim of his circumstances: the target of bullies turned into a soldier, fighting a losing battle where there are more questions than answers. Despite his efforts, and in spite of his occasional successes, Armin fails to take control of his circumstances time and time again, often choosing to wait to see how events will unfold, rather than taking preemptive action to prevent the continued cycle of violent circumstances in which he finds himself trapped.

In this essay, I will demonstrate how Armin internalizes a permanent victim mindset after his sacrifice at Shiganshina and how he extrapolates this idea into a personal ideology that absolves him of fault for his actions, leading to the development of a false sense of self and the compulsive desire to be seen as a hero.

On the Serumbowl (do people still call it that?)

Who doesn’t love a good thesis? That’s about as academic as this is going to get, so let’s dial it down and go back a bit. We have to agree on some things first.

There are two points at the center of this interpretation that I know not everyone will agree with fully. You don’t have to agree; but please know if you’re going to disagree, I’m only interested in spirited debate if we can do it over a bottle of wine in the evening as the candlelight falls low over the intimate room where we find ourselves looking into each other’s eyes as we speak.

The first point— Armin is not to blame for Bertholdt’s death. The phrasing of that is important. I’m not saying that Armin did not physically cause Bertholdt’s death (because he literally ate him) or that Armin should not feel some level of guilt or responsibility (he was planning on killing Bertholdt anyways). I am saying that the actual choice made in the serumbowl to inject Armin, turn him into a titan, and consume Bertholdt to gain the colossal titan was not Armin’s fault.

There is an argument to be made that Bertholdt’s death was unnecessarily cruel, and I’m not disagreeing with that. But again, this is explicitly not Armin’s fault:

He had already prepared to die when he sacrificed himself to cause a diversion and so was unconscious/on the brink of death when that decision was made.

He expressed shock and remorse upon learning of the exact situation that had unfolded to cause Bertholdt’s death.

Some will contend that he had no remorse so here’s my response: we’re not in a court of law and I don’t actually have to prove anything to you, but if we want to go there, then take this:

Armin had an emotional and physical reaction after waking up that I constitute counts as an act of remorse, because he was incapacitated during the act and therefore did not consent to what was done to Bertholdt OR what was done to him.

And furthermore, your Honor, the defendant displayed a similar physical reaction on a previous occasion after his first alleged attempt on someone’s life. Nausea and vomiting is clearly an instinctive coping mechanism that my client experiences when he is feeling guilt and/or remorse. Case closed.

The second point— Armin was a victim of the serumbowl as much as Bertholdt or Erwin. Again, I know this is contentious, but actually it turns out that willingly sacrificing your life by enduring excruciating pain to further your cause, and then being injected with a serum will bring you back to life and being induced into a catatonic state of cannibalism that causes you to eat a living person and ends with your inheritance of one of the titans, an enormous responsibility that you did not ask for, and most of that being done to you against your will and without your knowledge… that, uh, is probably not anyone's first choice of how to spend their day.¹

A False Victimhood

So we agree— Armin was a victim of circumstance in the serumbowl and was set up to kill Bertholdt in a much crueler and more personal way than he and Eren had originally planned.² I think whatever Armin was feeling atop the wall in Shiganshina when he woke up (shock, horror, sadness, regret, disgust) was perfectly valid and understandable at that time. Without even mentioning the general horror of that entire battle, the serumbowl was a terrible thing to happen— to all those who were involved, to all who were witnesses, even to those who were complicit in the decision-making, it was still a terrible thing to be a part of. And to be made to participate in that against your will— that would be tremendously difficult to deal with emotionally. How much guilt should you feel for something you did that was done without your consent?³

But I think this is where things take a turn. It seems like Armin begins to falsely extend that victimhood to other aspects of his life. He internalizes what he felt in the aftermath of the serumbowl— something bad happened at my hands, but it wasn’t really my fault— and he extrapolates it to other situations in his life, even ones where it does not make sense. This is why he can justify following Eren, or at least not intervening when he realizes the destructive path Eren is on. In his mind, he is still at the mercy of his circumstances. He has been wronged, put upon, taken advantage of, and instead of fashioning his feelings of helplessness and guilt into useful actions to correct the course of events into a future he desires, he’s only capable of grieving for himself and rationalizing his worldview to others.

He expresses this directly to Annie:

Which is… fine, I mean, there’s a lot to discuss there and their situations aren’t quite the same.⁴

There is a truth at the center of this martyr complex Armin has created for himself, because he willingly sacrificed his life in Shiganshina to further his cause. He was literally a martyr. But still, that doesn’t absolve him of fault for any future actions. Being a victim in one situation does not make you a victim for the rest of your life. He definitely did have a choice when it came to following Eren’s lead to attack Liberio, and he went so far as to draw the battle plans himself. He has created this narrative in his head that he is somehow not responsible for his own actions. He has no other choice.

Self-centered and Hollow

Let’s talk about how this manifests in his connection with Bertholdt.

Has someone ever given you a really hollow apology? I’m sorry you feel that way… reflecting the blame back onto you… I’m sorry I fucked up, I always do, I’m such a bad person… shifting the attention away from your feelings to theirs… I’m sorry, I was just… justifying their actions to recenter the conversation on themselves?

Because when you have wronged someone, you apologize to them and for them. Apologizing might make you feel better or take some weight off your shoulders, but that’s not what it’s about. You’re letting the other person know that you understand what you did, you are sorry, and you will not do it again. This is a lesson Armin desperately needs to learn.⁵

I think it’s worth saying that Armin does feel guilty for Bertholdt’s death, or at least he acknowledges his participation in the act. We see this in Liberio when he pauses to reflect on Bertholdt after destroying the harbor, and then again when he meets redead Bertholdt in paths.

But interestingly— in both of these instances, while I think it’s clear that Armin is understanding of his part in Bertholdt’s death (willful or not, if you eat someone alive, you kinda gotta own that), he still neglects to act on any remorse or sorrow that he might still feel. He displays other emotions, but not in ways that extend past himself to Bertholdt. He seems guilt-ridden, but he doesn’t apologize. He seems sad, but he doesn’t grieve for Bertholdt.

These moments are centered around himself and his own victimhood. When he thinks of Bertholdt in Liberio, he is comparing their actions to alleviate his own guilt at the destruction he’s caused. We’re the same after all, we’re both victims of circumstance who have been made to kill people. The difference is that Armin is complicit in this attack on Liberio. He says that Eren would’ve done it without their help anyways (objection, your Honor, that’s speculation), and sure, maybe, but you didn’t have to do it with him. Armin (and the others) still chose to work with Eren at that point. On the other hand, while I wouldn’t say that Bertholdt is free of blame for his actions either, his situation is a little more sympathetic— he was a child soldier manipulated into a mission of mass destruction. Armin is an adult with a new haircut to match.

Similarly, when Armin meets Bertholdt in paths, he’s not reaching out to Bertholdt to connect with him. He’s focused on himself and his problems. He centers the conversation on him and how guilty it makes him feel. He kinda apologizes, but not for Bertholdt’s cruel death, not even on behalf of the others who forced it to happen. He apologizes for what he’s about to ask Bertholdt to do.

Now— if we want to get into the weeds on this one, I’d argue this is an indirect apology on Armin’s part for his involvement in Bertholdt’s death. He’s apologizing for keeping him in the limbo of paths and not allowing him to rest— just do one more thing for us and then you can go. I think it’s an expression of apology. It’s just not very direct and it’s not good enough if he’s trying to make genuine amends.

This is a Pattern

Let’s take a step back in time for a moment to look at Armin’s arc through the manga. I think it’s worth pointing out the times that Armin does try to take control of his circumstances and act assertively. In each of these instances, he’s successful in the sense that he reaches his immediate goal. But it rarely unfolds quite the way he wants and it always comes at a cost, whether that is known to him at the time or not.

In Trost, Armin defends Eren against the Garrison. He takes a decisive stand to convince the soldiers not to shoot at them. The captain is too scared to be persuaded and they are nearly killed anyway, only saved by Pixis’ arrival.

On the 57th expedition, when Armin realized the Female Titan was looking for Eren, he successfully helped his team evade death and narrow down her motives. Behind the scenes, Reiner was working with Annie, and she ended up capturing Eren anyway (at least for a brief period of time).

In the Uprising arc, Armin is the one who shoots and kills Kenny’s soldier to defend Jean. But he is overwhelmed by the violence done by his own hand, and he struggles to accept this new path.

In Shiganshina, he comes up with the plan to take down Bertholdt at the expense of his own life. What Happens Next Will Shock You

Each of these moments build on each other, showing a progression in his agency and decision-making, especially when it comes to violence. But it also shows that even when Armin is successful in his initial goals, he fails to escape the set of circumstances which led him to take action in the first place. In Trost, he gives a big speech— they’re going to kill him anyway. In the FT arc, he saves his teammates’ lives and gains intel— lots of people die anyways. In Uprising, he saves Jean’s life— but afterwards, he is told that this is something he’ll have to get used to. The killing won’t stop.

It’s important too that each of these actions is done in defense, and only after a clear threat has been established. Armin is not proactive in fighting Kenny’s soldiers; he avoids direct confrontation with the soldiers until one of his comrades is about to die, and only then does he necessitate direct action. Even in his moments of assertiveness, he is still only reactive. Even as he progresses, he is still only a victim of his circumstances.

Armin introduces this motto in the Female Titan arc, the idea that he must sacrifice his humanity in order to achieve his goals. He tries to follow through on this, giving up more and more each time to further his goals. He manipulates Bertholdt using Annie’s memory to distract him. He kills someone to save Jean’s life. He tries again to outsmart Bertholdt in Shiganshina, but he fails that time due to Bertholdt’s offscreen character development. This pattern builds and culminates in his sacrifice at Shiganshina. He has already given his mind, his heart, and his hands. All that’s left for him to do is give his own life for the cause. Literally, leaving behind his humanity.

Except— he’s brought back to life.

That wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to be a sacrifice. He had made some sort of peace with that, knowing that he was doing it for a reason he believed in. And now— what else does he have to give?

The answer is fuck-all apparently, because he begins to see himself as a permanent victim. All of those unfortunate circumstances have built on top of each other and have now voltroned into one big martyr complex. To be clear, Armin has rightfully been a victim many times, as discussed above. But his answer to that is not to rise above and find a way to change his circumstances. His answer is not to be more decisive and proactive. It’s like he just sinks further into himself, wallowing in his own grief as he stews in his victimhood state.

So Close

I think the closest Armin comes to having a revelation about this is in Chapter 112 when he is confronted by Eren. This is interesting, because Eren has been at the crux of his life and his development for the entire story. He’s continued to work with Eren in the hopes that things will turn out alright in the end.

But Eren’s accusations aren’t what give him the opportunity for a realization. In fact, Eren feeds right into Armin’s victim complex. You’re being controlled by Bertholdt. That’s an absolute goldmine of an excuse for someone who wants to blame all of their problems on someone else. He’s already allowing himself to believe that things aren’t his fault, and now Eren is providing a clear out. It’s all Bertholdt, he’s inside my mind. I don’t think Armin walks away believing this. But I do think there’s a moment where he at least considers the possibility. Is he genuinely horrified at the thought of being controlled by someone else, or is it terrifying because it validates everything he wants to believe about himself? Look at that man, he’s like damn it, why didn’t I think of that first??

But this doesn’t last. Eren turns to Mikasa. And it’s so interesting because he says the same thing about her– you don’t have a free will. You’re being controlled. He’s gaslighting both of them to get out of his way and make them feel crazy for everything they’ve done, because, duh, you’re just being controlled, silly!

But this time, Armin doesn’t stand for it. Whether it’s because he understands Mikasa’s agency as independent in a way that he cannot do for himself (maybe he’s projecting and defending her in the way that he wishes he could defend himself, haha… unless?), or simply because he cares about Mikasa and doesn’t want to see her in pain, he doesn’t take it. He goes so far as to attack Eren. It’s mostly reactive in response to the things Eren is saying, but this time, he is the first to throw hands.

And Yet So Far

So— everything up until this point, I’m like, okay. Armin is a self-centered sad boi who can’t escape his victimizing circumstances and he is using that to his selfish advantage in order to avoid taking responsibility for his actions. Love that for him.

But this is where Isayama starts to lose me, at least as far as Armin’s character is concerned. I always love a circular arc where a character can’t help but succumb to something that they once broke free from, which is… I guess how I would describe what happens with Armin next? Except not really at all. He goes back to rationalizing Eren’s actions after Jean provides the convenient excuse of Eren wouldn’t do that intentionally, he must be up to something. Armin is like holy shit thank you for providing yet another out, now I don’t have to do any character development.

But to me, it seems like this would have been the right place for Armin’s break from his self-pitying trajectory. This would have been the time for him to stand up and side against Eren, thereby putting Mikasa in the crossfire to make her own decision. But I guess… Isayama needed the volunteers to come in and reveal their plan, and he needed everyone to go along with it so he could set up the Eren vs. Reiner fight, etc. So Armin kinda gets lost in the mix for a while after this.

The next closest we get is when he lashes out at Mikasa, which I love unironically because they are both absolute messes and need to get their shit together PLEASE girl he won’t change just move on. But this moment also falls flat because it doesn’t really go anywhere (should be the title of this entire arc). Because as much as I love a manic breakdown (how else do you think I wrote this??), even after Armin begins to crack under the pressure, he still continues to justify Eren’s actions and wants to wait to see what happens. “He’s just breaking the walls in Shiganshina as a threat! Everything will be fine!” NO KING HE’S ENDING THE WORLD PLEASE GET A GRIP

Armin does finally come out of this cloud a bit after the rumbling begins, but he’s still focusing on the wrong things, chasing Connie all the way to Ragako (to do what? save Falco to manipulate Gabi into siding with them BYE KING) and again, when he snaps at Mikasa, she’s the one who apologizes and Armin’s all like:

That’s not an apology bestie it’s emotional abuse

Anyway, my thoughts on this portion of the manga are clearly not coherent, complementary to the source material. I think it’s clear by this point that Isayama was laying the pieces for Armin to eventually be the one to oppose Eren in the final battle, but I needed a little more from him in that regard. I needed to see a little more doubt. Armin spent a lot of time in this arc repeating platitudes about talking to Eren, and I think those moments were supposed to show the gradual decline of his trust in Eren as he came out of denial. But it’s just not quite enough for me, because he’s saying all of that as he continues to go with the flow. Like being caught in the tides of the ocean, unable to break free from the same repeating pattern. Oh no is it all just a metaphor for the sea

But this isn’t an Isayama smackdown, so let’s move on.

Chapter 139

Speaking of Isayama smackdowns,

Somewhere in the haze of the 120s, Armin manages to piece together what’s left of his character and take a stand against Eren, eventually fighting him in colossal form. I think when you take a step back, it’s clear that Armin was meant to be coming to this place. For instance, why else would Hange have to die? It’s to make room for Armin as the commander leading the final charge. I’m not opposed to this idea if done well,⁶ but again, the execution failed to come off as meaningful or gratifying after all that Hange has been through. And as a side note to this Commander Armin tangent, I could’ve done with much more Hange-Armin interaction. It would’ve been nice to see them at odds over Eren earlier, so that when they’re working together again, there’s a lot more weight to Hange’s faith in him.

There’s a lot more to unpack in these chapters that might benefit my argument if I cared to take the time for it. But I don’t, so let’s jump straight to the end. Although I would like to highlight how absolutely wide open Yelena’s third eye is—

But what’s really interesting about the final chapter is that in the end, who is it who claims to have killed Eren? Who takes ownership of saving the world? Who gets to be the hero who defeated the big bad?

It’s a bird—

It’s a plane—

No, it’s Armin with his martyr complex in his pocket!

Look at his fucking hairline pls...

So, I was playing with this idea of a victim complex only in regards to the direct aftermath of the serumbowl for a long time, so it’s really interesting (read: hysterical) that it actually extends all the way into the final chapter. In a way, it comes full circle in a more satisfying way that many other aspects of the story do. I mean, once again, Armin fails to take responsibility for his own faults. But by accepting responsibility for Mikasa killing Eren when he finds out she doesn’t want it (and boy, does he jump at the chance!), he is really sealing the deal on his self-pity and blindness. It’s confirmation that he is not going to change. And it means he’s reached a new extreme of martyrdom— not only did he sacrifice his life back in Shiganshina, how he is the Survey Corps Commander who saved the world from the rumbling. He is MegaMartyr, defender of the Universe, airing Thursdays at 8/7 Central.

It must be so fucking gratifying for Armin to seize this opportunity. He gets all the attention and glory while getting to shove his own faults and actions under the rug. What started as a little self-pity because of his real and tragic circumstances has now ballooned past martyrdom and exploded into a hero complex. He needs that recognition to keep going. He is feeding on this attention, and he’s willing to do everything but take responsibility for his own actions to get it, which is especially wild considering part of what he is responsible for is the very apocalypse that he’s taking credit for ending. Oh my god, Armin is the firefighter who commits arson and then gets called a hero for putting it out. Oh god⁷

Well,

The conclusion I expected to reach at the end of this analysis was not that Armin is the character in every police serial who thinks he’s smart enough to report a crime that he committed and get away with it, but here we are.

In closing, I would like to apologize for how unhinged this analysis became towards the end and clarify that this is not a hateful diatribe against Armin, despite appearances. I’m not laughing at him. I’m laughing with him 🥰✨

Endnotes

1. Sorry for sounding so much like an asshole in this section, but some of you read RTS and said "time for Armin slander forever sweaty :)" try critical thinking, thots

2. To be fair, we don’t know what the survey corps planned to do with Reiner and Bertholdt if they captured them. based on Hange’s interaction with Reiner, they probably intended to interrogate and kill them/take their powers. It’s worth thinking about, but we don’t know for sure.

3. Interesting point of debate— if both sides were to be tried for war crimes committed in Shiganshina, who would be convicted? I’m asking this as a discussion question, not a who’s who of your favorite characters. Unlock those unbiased critical thinking skills and make me a legal argument. Who would you prosecute and who would you defend? On what basis? Using what evidence? What sentence would you seek?

4. Short essay on Bertholdt— I think I'm a lot less blindly forgiving of the warriors than others, but I do want to point out why. I don't think they're quite as brainwashed as we often talk about. At the campfire before Marcel confesses that he rigged the rankings, we see Reiner going on and on about evil island devils and honorary Marleyans. I think he believes this, but the other three just sit there quietly. I think they'd probably outgrown that mindset by that point, especially having been through military training. They were exposed to a different world than most Eldians and they were given the powers of the titans that they knew were be used for Marley's advantage. They knew they were being used. They saw the power imbalance from an angle that most Eldians never got to see. They had to understand at least to some extent what that meant for all the propaganda they'd heard growing up. We see this again from Annie after Marcel dies; she's breaking down as she attacks Reiner, because she's pissed that she's been lied to and manipulated by all the adults in her life.

So it's not a question of understanding. I think they knew what they were doing. The true scale of destruction would have been hard to fathom at that age, but I think they knew that they were really just pawns in a violent war being made against their own people. It's more a question of agency— even knowing all of that, what choice did they have? They could've refused to go through with it and been killed, gotten their families killed, but that's the kind of principled stand you would expect from an adult restorationist like Grisha, not a twelve-year-old who's mostly concerned about protecting their family.

All of this to say— of course, I understand that Bertholdt was very young at the time of the attack of Wall Maria. They'd all been traumatized and manipulated and made to fight in a war beyond their years. They were child soldiers who should've been allowed to just be children. I wouldn't punish or blame them for their actions at that age. But they're not real kids, this is all fake, so I think when we're talking about this, it's important to get into the details, and it seems disingenuous to act as if the warriors were totally oblivious to their actions or that they literally believed killing thousands of people was the right thing to do. That kind of blind righteousness would have been easy to portray, but it's not the portrayal we got, not even from Reiner, who was the most extreme.

5. Y'all watched season 2 of Never Have I Ever yet???

6. By the way, people love to yell about things they don't like in the story being a plot device. I have some unfortunate news for everyone: almost every element of the plot is a plot device. That's why it's called a plot device. It's just more obvious to you when it's something you don't like. Or in this case, when it's painfully thin.

7. You might be thinking: oh, like the guy who planted a bomb at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics and then got off on the hero worship when he saved everyone? Which, yes, that's the general idea, but if you believe that's a true story, you've been misled by the media. Richard Jewell was cleared by the FBI, and the real bomber was later caught and sentenced to four consecutive life sentences. The more you know ⭐️

#armin arlert #snk #aot #snk meta #aot meta #babe wake up new insane ramblings about armin just dropped

54 notes · View notes

inhanf-archived · 4 years

Text

1. threesome | toys under clothing | hand jobs

Squares/Prompts used:

#kinktober2020 all three prompts incorporated

@cmbingo library square

@cm-kinkbingo Professor!AU

Warnings: Smut, public smut, descriptive smut, three-way relationship

Summary: Alternate Universe in which Reid stays on as a full time professor, the role given to him when Barnes restructured the BAU in Season 13. Other canon deviations exist but are minor.

Word count: 1530ish

AO3

There was a certain peace that being surrounded by books gave to Dr Spencer Reid. If he turned his immense profiling skill inwards he could trace it back to his mother’s love of books and the escapism they offered him from a difficult childhood. He had quickly developed a preference for a corner of the campus library rarely used by anyone except a handful of graduate researchers. The books and papers here were older, the stacks were closer together and there were only a few desks scattered around the entire section. It was remote enough to offer solitude while giving a soothing background noise of staff and students in other parts of the library.

It was here, at a desk furthest from the others that you found Spencer, surrounded by a stack of books and papers, sipping from a reusable coffee cup you’d bought for him to sneak his illicit substance into the library. You watched as he replaced it on the desk, well away from the old books and turned a page. The speed with which he consumed the written word made you feel dizzy, though your reason for seeking him out here could also be partly to blame.

He looked up as you approached him, his curious hazel eyes scanning you for signs of bad news. You rarely disturbed him at work and this was an emergency but not the kind he was thinking. You perched on the edge of the desk, setting your satchel down beside his. ‘Hey’ you smiled and reached out to push a stray stand behind his ear. Spencer matched your smile and leaned in to the affectionate touch.‘Hi? What brings you here? Not that I’m objecting.’ Before you could answer him a very faint buzzing met both your ears in the near silence. You bit down on your lip, gripping the table and pressing your thighs together and Spencer knew instantly what had brought on this visit.

Grinning widely he waited for the soft buzzing to stop which it did just as you caved and let out a soft whimper. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound and he shifted in his seat. ‘Emily torturing you again love?’ He smiled as you met his gaze, the flush of your skin suggested she had been at this for a few hours now. ‘She has me on ten minute intervals, I almost lost it on the way in here. Spence you’ve gotta help me.’

He chuckled and shifted again in his seat. The games Em played with you often ran for days at a time, setting all three of you up for a session of exquisite pleasure. What she exacted in her mischievous preparations she gave back tenfold when she wanted to. This knowledge of your shared girlfriend along with the physical effects she was creating within you had him hard and straining against his slacks.

Spotting the shift and knowing exactly what it meant you slid from the desk to perch on Spencer’s lap. There wasn’t the power play between you two like there was between you and Emily but you knew how to press his buttons and he was a decidedly softer touch than Em. He loved having his hair stroked so your hand naturally went back to the wild curls at the nape of his neck, your little finger simultaneously skimming the sensitive skin there. He shifted again beneath you and you knew you had him.

‘She’ll only drag it out if I help you cum Y/N. She’ll read it all over both our faces if I so much as touch you.’ He was being careful not to let his hands stray to where he wanted them, one against your lower back, pressing you in closer to him, another on your thigh, tracing the goose bumps your over aroused state had caused. ‘I know, I know. But it’s not against the rules if I get there without being touched.’ His quizzical gaze met your eager eyes, his genius brain gave him no advantage at all when it came to the fairer sex, something you found endearing. Realization crept into his expression when your fingers lightly traced the bulge in his pants and he had to cough to cover up the moan he let out. You got a huge amount of satisfaction from pleasuring both your partners but to Spencer's flawless memory he could never remember it causing you to reach orgasm without touch. When he saw you glance at his watch it all clicked into place for him.

‘You want to time getting me off to the next vibration scheduled.’ You bit your lip again and nodded, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft but passionate kiss as your fingers lightly traced his length again. Spence lifted his hands to cup your face, fisting them either side of you when he remembered he wasn’t allowed to touch you. ‘How do you want to do this?’ He whispered softly against your lips. You leaned back to check the nearby stacks and glanced again at his watch. ‘I have seven minutes till the next onslaught’ ‘six minutes forty two seconds actually’ you rolled your eyes and laid your palm against his cock which quietened Spencer again as he stifled a fresh moan. ‘I was thinking we sit just like this, pretend to be chatting and innocently kissing and I jerk you off.’ you stated simply against his ear. Preemptively answering his next question you pulled several clean Kleenex from the pocket of your dress and sat back to meet his gaze.

Spencer took a moment to process the situation. He’d never been much of an exhibitionist but he couldn’t deny the chances of you being caught were negligible. You were waiting for his consent and he gave it with a nod and a shy smile, moving himself to face you better and give you easier access to his trousers. Your smile lit up your entire face and you kissed your boyfriend tenderly, your fingers making quick work of his belt and fly. Reaching inside his black slacks you slid your hand along his aroused cock, gripping it softly through the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. Glancing down you smiled at the pattern. ‘Avocados eh?’ He grinned back at you, burying his face in your shoulder as you carefully extracted him from the novelty pants, your thumb swiping over his head to gather the precum that glistened there and spread it along his shaft. You could feel the kisses he placed along your collar bone as you worked him slowly, up and down, twisting your wrist slightly and collecting the slick from his slit on every other stroke.

You could feel your own slick soaked cunt clench around the small egg like device Emily had lovingly placed inside you that morning. The antenna that connected it to your phone and thereby to hers sat against your now swollen and throbbing clit and you moved your hips ever so slightly to feel it rub against the sensitive nub. No doubt knowing exactly what you were up to Spencer lifted his face from your neck and kissed you fiercely, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth and running his teeth over it. Your strokes sped up a little as the clock counted down to your mutual finish. Spencer continued kissing you deeply, letting soft moans and whimpers escape into your mouth. His knuckles had just turned white as he gripped the arms of the chair when you felt the device come alive within you again. Pressing your thighs together you sped up your movements around Spencer’s throbbing cock, gathering the tissues to soak up the now steady flow of precum that leaked from the tip. You felt more than heard the grunt he made as his climax surged through him and you watched his beautiful face clench in ecstasy, his cock pulsing it’s orgasm over your hand and into the tissues.

The combined sensations of the toy, the visual Spencer’s orgasm face provided and the feel of him coming undone in your hand pushed you over the edge and you let out a muffled moan of relief as your own orgasm rippled through you. Both breathing heavily you slumped in the chair, wrapping the wet tissue inside a few drier ones and pocketing the evidence of your adventure. Now that you’d climaxed Spencer felt free to touch you again and he cupped your face between both his hands and kissed you long and hard.

‘I better get out of here before the next one hits’ you mutter to him and you half grin half grimace at the thought of what the toy would do to your sensitive post orgasm body. ‘See you at home?’ Spencer nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet and he watched you walk away, your body more relaxed than it had been your entire visit. He smiled to himself, abandoning his perch to head back to his office and clean himself up properly. If Em had her way, and she always did, it would be a long night, one he wouldn’t miss for the world.

#cmkinkbingo2020 #cmbingo20 #cmbingo #kinktober2020 #kinktober #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #emily prentiss x reader x spencer reid #emily prentiss #reader insert #smut #public smut #gill writes

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thefoodwiththedood · 3 years

Text

"Good Guys"

Here's another story from a bit ago, this time about Hatou and Eobea going on a diplomatic mission to Darkon III, and Hatou making a new friend! This is sort of a continuation of my stories "Strategy" and "Rising Phoenix," so for more context, you could read those first. Either way, let me know what y'all think of this!

Characters: Hatou Koros, Princess Eobea Xovrada, Oesta Varg, Chieftain Haeris Varg & Khosti Varg (who belong to @kaminoanbat)

Setting: 21 BBY, Darkon III

Word Count: ~2,300

“Must we do this?” Eobea whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the trumpets announcing her arrival. Her own procession was rather small, compared to the reception she’d been given: All around the walled courtyard of the palatial fortress where they’d landed, Mandalorian warriors stood at attention, their freshly-polished armor gleaming in the sun. At the end of the courtyard opposite her stood two more Mandos, an adult and a child, with their helmets at their sides and their own entourage at their backs. “I thought visits like this were reserved for planets with some…value to us”

Before Hatou answered, he held out his elbow, and her mechanical forearm hooked itself in the crook of it. “We’re here to encourage the people that Iridonia is with them, same as always,” he said as the two of them walked, “the Darkonan clans are good people, and even better warriors—if we can convince Clan Varg to join forces with us, the other clans will follow, and they could help us defend the other colonies from Separatist attacks''

“I can always rely on you to be optimistic, can’t I,” Eobea smiled,but the disdain was still palpable in her voice. “Maybe it’s just my ancestors talking—the ones who were murdered when the Mandalorians occupied Iridonia, you remember them—but I’m not so quick to trust. As I far as I know, Darkon III might just be the final holdout of those same invaders"

Thankfully, Eobea had said the last part just before coming into earshot of the Darkonan chieftain ahead of them. “Have faith, Princess,” Hatou reassured her, choosing his words carefully now that he could be heard, “It’s possible we may find some life-long allies today”

At the end of their long walk, Hatou and Eobea came face-to-face with a tall, middle-aged Zabrak clad in regal yet battle-worn armor. “It is an honor,” he began in accented Basic, his voice a strong, baritone rumble, “to welcome you to Darkon III, Princess Eobea. I am Haeris Varg of Clan Varg, Chieftain of the Darkonan Clans, and,” he paused only briefly, as he and the child at his side bowed respectfully, “your humble servant for as long as we may host you”

Eobea gave one final look to Hatou, before clearing her throat and replying. “You are very kind, Chieftain. I look forward to my stay here,” she lied, “and I look forward to discussing business—my father has assured me that you will be most indispensable allies''

“We always endeavor to be,” Haeris smiled—it could have been genuine enthusiasm behind that smile, or it could be as much of a put-on as Eobea’s. Neither she nor Hatou knew him well enough to tell, but they both wondered about it. “Ah, but in the meantime, allow me to introduce my family; this is my son, Khosti,” he swept an arm over the child at his side, and Khosti bowed once again. The boy was awfully mechanical in his movements, and he didn’t dare make eye contact with the Princess—clearly, he’d rehearsed this, or his father had made him. “And,” Haeris sighed, “though she’s running fashionably late, there’s also—

A sudden, roaring sound cut Haeris off mid-thought, and everyone in the courtyard looked up to see its source. A lone Mandalorian warrior rocketed across the sky, only to then circle back and finally stop just above Hatou, Eobea, and the Chieftain. Hovering in the air for only a second longer, she cut the engine in her rocket pack, falling several feet and hitting the ground on one knee. She rose to her feet slowly, removing her helmet and revealing the big, toothy grin she’d rode in with. “Hey, dad,” she spoke, tucking her helmet under her arm as she turned to face the Chieftain, “Sorry I was out, thought I’d take the scenic route back here. What’s…” she trailed off, apparently just noticing Hatou, Eobea, and the amount of people there in the courtyard with them. She studied Eobea in particular, her smile fading as she looked her up and down. “What’s with the Iridonians?”

“Oesta, please,” Haeris seethed, calling her attention back to him. He gave her a single, stern look, and she scowled back at him before relenting and taking her place at his right side. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Oesta,” Haeris said again, this time introducing her to Hatou and Eobea, “is my eldest daughter, and will one day inherit my throne—if she can ever learn how a leader ought to act” Oesta rolled her eyes in response, before continuing to silently size up the Princess and her bodyguard.

If the mere prospect of working with Mandalorians wasn’t enough to sour Eobea’s view of this planet, the sheer disrespect from the Chieftain’s daughter might be. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Eobea lied again, trying and failing to mask her feelings, smiling so fleetingly she was bordering on curtness.

“Perhaps,” Hatou chimed in, rescuing Eobea preemptively from what surely would have been a long, uncomfortable silence, “I should take the Princess to her accommodations—allow us time to settle in, before our negotiations begin” He surreptitiously took her hand, and he could feel her relax slightly as their fingers interwove.

Haeris cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, please do—if you’d follow me inside, someone will show you to your rooms”

Hatou nodded, once again hooking Eobea’s elbow in his. The two of them followed the trio of Vargs and their entourage as they turned towards the large fortress, and Hatou almost caught Oesta studying him over her shoulder as they walked inside.

. . .

Hours later, Hatou found himself quietly slipping outside, sighing in relief as the brisk evening air hit his face. Even better than the air was the peace and quiet; to everyone’s surprise, Eobea’s opinions on the Darkonans began to sweeten over the course of the evening, and now she was happily—not to mention drunkenly, and loudly—wining-and-dining with the Vargs’ most senior clansmen. Hatou himself couldn’t partake, of course. His duties to the princess came first, and he needed to keep his wits about him. So, here he stood: a balcony overlooking the sea, lit by the light of Darkon III’s moons, leaning back against a railing and watching his charge through the giant glass door. She was having fun, clearly. That much made him happy.

“Hey” a voice suddenly spoke up to Hatou’s right, and he jumped in shock. He instinctively reached for his sword, but, upon turning to see the voice’s owner, he relaxed. It was just the Chieftain’s daughter—Oesta, if he remembered right—resting on the railing in the opposite corner of the balcony, looking at him with a sort of half-smile. Two drinks, one full and one half-full, were sitting on the wall at her side, evidently brought out from inside some time ago. “This kinda party ain’t your speed, huh?”

Hatou took a breath before answering, removing his helmet and holding it at his side. “No, not exactly,” he admitted, “And you?”

She smiled. “Not tonight. Kinda dreading having to talk to my dad after this morning, in the courtyard. Here, wanna drink? I was gonna have both myself but, now that you’re here,” she slid the full mug towards him, but with a small wave of his hand he refused it. “Yeah,” she continued, “Best to let him get all boozed up to soften that blow, y’know how dads are”

“Actually, I don’t,” he responded, “we’re very close, my father and I, we almost never fight”

Oesta raised an eyebrow, and her smile faded slightly. “Lucky you”

“I…” Hatou stuttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Must be nice,” she continued, interrupting him, “to be born into a thriving empire, to a parent who likes you just how you are, and to get to serve your planet’s royalty, that’s—”

“Iridia” Hatou interjected, interrupting her in turn. “I’m from Iridia, not Iridonia”

“...Oh” Oesta paused for a moment, silently retracting most of her prejudgements. “What’s the difference?”

“Iridia’s its own planet, a former colony just like Darkon,” Hatou said, his tone softening. In spite of his previous reservations, he decided to take the drink she’d offered him after all, and he paused to take a sip. “It’s beautiful, but not in the same ways as Iridonia. It has natural beauty, I guess. You go there, and it just feels warm and welcoming, like the planet itself wants to nurture you and take care of you. It’s motherly, in a way”

“Motherly…” Oesta replied, the word lingering on her lips a little longer than she’d meant it to. “It sounds nice. But then, if you’re from a colony, how’d you end up with...y’know…” she gestured towards the glass door, and the half-in-the-bag Princess seated inside.

Hatou smiled, unabashedly proud of what he was about to say. “Emperor Stotrau saw great potential in me, he said so himself. He needed a bodyguard for his daughter, and I was the best candidate, from Iridonia or otherwise. It’s a great honor”

“I’ll bet,” she said, her lips curling into a wry smile. “So, does he know you’re banging his daughter yet?”

Hatou, who was in the middle of taking another swig, nearly choked. Oesta tried and failed to stifle a laugh as he coughed, and it was several seconds before he even tried to speak. “I...we...well, see...who told you?”

“Well you did, just now” Oesta chuckled, earning a groan from Hatou as he realized his mistake. “I saw you two out in the courtyard, the way you calmed her down. Seems like she trusts you”

With a sigh, Hatou shook his head and smiled. No use denying it now. “The princess...Eobea...we were friends long before we ever, well...I don’t know, it just kind of happened” He felt himself blushing now, and moreso, he felt Oesta’s gaze on him. He turned away, just to spare himself a little embarrassment.

“No need to justify it, man, I get it—it’s your job to protect her 'round the clock, you two’re bound to get close like that,” Oesta smiled, taking another sip herself, “She’s cute, too. Total catch”

“It’s more than just physical” Hatou hadn’t quite meant to say that, but he couldn’t help justifying himself here. This was a talk he’d rehearsed many times, in preparation for the day when someone found out, when someone would question how a relationship between an Iridonian princess and a lowly soldier from the Colonies could ever work. Explaining it to a nosy Mandalorian was never in the plan, but oh well. “I mean...she values my company, and I enjoy seeing her happy. Every day I watch the stress she’s put under, the way she’s underestimated and put down, even by those who mean well. But she’s ambitious, smart, driven, more than any of them see. I want to help her succeed. I want to be there for her through good and bad times, and share in her triumphs. I don’t want her to be alone at the top, when she inevitably gets there”

Oesta’s smile faded as she listened, alternatively glancing at him, and through the window at the princess herself. “You’re really devoted to her, huh” she finally said, her tone an equal mixture of intrigue and confusion, with just a pinch of concern. “Does she feel the same way about you? Wanting you to succeed and everything?”

“Yes. Maybe. Well,” Hatou paused, considering the question. “I’ve never talked about this with her, not really. In our private moments, we’re more focused on...well... “

“Just having fun?” Oesta smirked, and in spite of himself Hatou smiled back at her. In the back of his mind, though, he was worried. He found himself mulling over that question in silence for a few moments—does she feel the same way about you? “I hope she does” Oesta spoke up, as if reading his mind. “You seem like you have a lot of love to give. Only fair for you to be with someone who gives it back”

“Yeah?” Hatou found himself looking at Oesta now, even as she was staring down into her drink. No one had said that to him before. Not even Eobea.

“Yeah” she looked up at him, their eyes meeting for the first time that night. “You’re a good guy. The galaxy needs good guys” Their eye contact held for all of five seconds, and when those five seconds passed, they both got the same feeling: either they looked away right then, or this night was going to take a new, serious, and probably wrong turn. They chose the former.

After another brief silence, spent largely with the two of them feigning great interest in opposite sides of the ocean view, Hatou regained his composure a little. “Thank you,” he finally said, “You’re very kind” Oesta responded with a barely audible mumble, which could have been anything from ‘You’re welcome’ to ‘Yeah, whatever’ to simply ‘mhm’, but whose sentiment was clear enough. Another, much longer silence followed, before Hatou finally downed the rest of his drink, sighed, and re-donned his helmet. “I...should probably get back inside, see how the princess is doing”

“Yeah...yeah, sure” Oesta muttered, re-donning her own helmet, mostly just as something to do. “Nice meeting you. Good luck with your lady, Sir...uh…”

“Hatou,” he finished. “Hatou Koros. And you’re—”

“Oesta...yeah” she said, the smile evident in her tone despite being hidden behind her helmet. Hatou had heard her name before, in the courtyard, but only from her father and only to scold her. Now, from her, the name sounded as it was meant to: strong, stable, and really kind of pretty. Even as Hatou was thinking this, Oesta was climbing up onto the balcony’s wall—and before he even registered that. she was hovering in the air with her jet pack. “See you around, Hatou” she said, rocketing away with the cold, seaborne wind. He watched her go, waving halfheartedly before sighing, standing up straight, and rejoining the party.

#star wars #star wars oc #zabrak #oc fanfic #ZLF #oc: Hatou Koros #oc: empress eobea xovrada #oc: Oesta Varg-Koros

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detective-with-one-arm · 3 years

Note

💭 - your choice

Simon

Vanilla!Rachel & Android!Simon

I love him. I love him so much. I could watch him smile forever. I could kiss his face for hours if he'd let me. I'd kill and die for him. I'd go to the ends of the world for him. I'd do anything if it meant making a better world for him to live in. I don't ever want to be without him. I want to spend the rest of my life by his side.

Vanilla!Rachel & Mer!Simon

He's so cute and so sweet. It's kinda nice having someone like him in the tank with everyone. He's more like me. And it's fun having someone I can tease and play with myself. Plus, he gives nice hugs and it's nice sleeping next to him.

Aquarium Siren!Rachel & Android!Simon

He's my friend! He understands me! He sees me! I don't have to pretend around him and he wants to stay with me. He makes me happy and I want to make him happy, too. I want to see him every day!

Delinquent!Rachel & Undercover Cop!Simon

He's got guts. I'd like to see him again. He's very fun to play with and tease. Cute, too! Wonder what he does for a day job.

Demon!Rachel & Fallen Angel!Simon

I hate him. I love him. I love fucking him. I love being fucked by him. He makes me confused. He makes me scared. He sets me on fire. I never want to be without him. I don't ever want to go back to a life without him. I don't care about anything else but him. I just want him. He's my angel and I'm his demon. God's not getting him back and I'm not Lucifer's bitch.

Yandere!Rachel & Homeless Human!Simon

He'll understand. Even if he never loves me, he will understand that I am the only one who can protect him. I'm the only one who can provide him everything he needs. He'll see. He'll see that the world is horrible and that I rescued from it. And he'll see that I love him. I love him more than anything and that I would kill and die for him if it meant protecting him from the world that's hurt and tortured him his whole life.

Naga!Rachel & Homeless Human!Simon

Men are cruel. I've seen it. To women, children, and other men. Though...it's not always men. Nevertheless, I've seen his wounds before. Less frequently, though it breaks my heart to see them at all. That as much as the world progresses and improves, some parts remain the same. And it saddens me that it's the uglier parts. But, my home is a safe haven for people like him. So, Simon has a home with me. With my people.

Guardian Angel!Rachel & Homeless Human!Simon

Poor thing...he was done so wrong in his life. But I'll be there for him. I'll help him find his own wings and soar. I'll be his guiding light. His star in the night. His friend...his home. Until he's strong enough to live without me...

Hybrid!Rachel & Hybrid!Simon

A bit odd, but a chill dude. Not as creepy as some of the predators I've met and not as aggro as some of the large prey I've met. I trust him. Hope he gets by okay.

Werewolf!Rachel & Vampire!Simon

He's sweet. And kind. And gentle. And so compassionate. I don't think I've ever met a vampire as nice as him and I'm not letting him go. He's my mate and part of my pack, now, and we've gotta look out for each other. And I love him. Wish he wouldn't pretend to throw the stick or film me in the bathtub, though...even though it is really funny.

Vampire!Rachel & Vampire!Simon

Respectable and understanding of the symbiotic relationship between humans and vampires. A true gentleman and a responsible sort. A worthy vampire. Though, I wished he had been more honest about his feelings, I'm so happy that he is honest, now. It was painful living knowing that he'd been neglected for so long. He deserves to be loved as fervently as the others.

Markus

Vanilla!Rachel & Android!Markus

I used to think of him as above me. Not as a person, but as some sort of judge. A vector for my sense of justice and morality and how that connected to my sense of self. I was so sure I was unworthy of even standing next to him. But now...? I can't imagine doing what I do without him by my side. No matter what, we do everything together. We're partners. And...I love him. For who he is. For everything that makes him...Markus.

Vanilla!Rachel & Pagan God!Markus

I never thought that praying to the void would actually get me an answer. But...weirdly enough, knowing that gods are real brings me a sense of peace. And that one is on my side and genuinely believes in me and wants to help is...nice. It's nice knowing some part of the universe has my back. So, I wanna have his. It's only fair. Besides, he makes for good company and a good houseguest. Easy on the eyes, too, so long as he doesn't break my brain. I think we could be good friends.

Vanilla!Rachel & Mer!Markus

I trust him with my life. He protected me. Kept me safe. Made sure I knew that nobody would hurt me as long as he was around and made sure that the others knew not to hurt me. And made sure I knew I was safe around him. And he's so gentle...so affectionate and loving. I'm gonna miss him whenever we get the hell out of this tank...

RK800!Rachel & Human Detective!Markus

I find him...peculiar. And fascinating. His curiosity and inquisitiveness is infectious, I think. He holds my attention. And he's kind. And...sincere, I think. I like him. Detective Manfred is a good man and a good detective and I value him as a partner. I like working with him and I hope I will be granted more opportunities to expand our professional and personal relationship.

Hybrid!Rachel & Hybrid!Markus

Smug son of a bitch thinks he can get in my pants with a cute little smirk and a playful charming personality and a sensitive artist persona and a sexy voice...well he can, and I'm mad about it. It's not fucking fair.

Naga!Rachel & Naga!Markus

He thinks he can fool me with his innocent act. He seems sincere, but I will not be fooled again by a naga who means to take that which I have guarded for centuries. We will see his true motives soon enough. If his heart truly is pure...he will likely move on and never see this place again...he is a traveler, after all.

Werewolf!Rachel & Werewolf!Markus

He's not an alpha, I don't think. But I feel like I would follow him wherever he went. Like I would do whatever he ordered me to. I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust him. He fought alongside me and didn't even expect a reward. I want to know him. To be close with him. I...I want to be a part of his pack.

Frontier!Rachel & Frontier!Markus

Mister Manfred is a good man. A bit cocky and polished, but a good man. Hard worker. Good craftsmanship. Sheriff Anderson's taken quite a liking to him and he stays for dinner a lot. Can't help but feel like maybe I'm letting him get too friendly with me. I can't say the competition's very appealing, though. Besides...he makes for good company. And he's a kind man. A very kind man...I hope he knows how to protect himself out on the streets.

Leo

Vanilla!Rachel & Mer!Leo

He's very sweet, but he's kinda intimidating. Though, it's not his fault and he's super gentle and careful with me. With everyone, actually. Which I really appreciate. Besides, even if he doesn't think so, he's nice to cuddle, too. And a very kissable face.

Trans!Rachel (Richard) & Human!Leo

I love him. I love him so much. I still feel so shitty that I didn't tell him I was a cop...I should have. But he still gave me another chance. He still let me in. I won't make him regret it. I swear. I'll be everything he deserves to have in a partner. He's too good for anything less from me.

Guardian Angel!Trans!Rachel (Richard) & Demon!Leo

I don't know how. I don't know why. But, this charming demon is my charge. I will never truly understand the will of God, but none ever will. Not even us angels. And if God wills it so, who am I to argue? Especially if it means I can be myself without having to disguise what I am. And I've never met a demon so sweet and so kind. Perhaps now I understand how others fell in love with Lucifer. There is a certain...beauty to demons I didn't see, before.

Elijah

Vanilla!Rachel & Human!Elijah Kamski

How in the everloving fuck did I manage to land a multi-million dollar deal beta testing a line of androids specifically catering to monsterfuckers like me? How? ¿Como? Cum? Someone explain when my life got so fucking weird that I am now collaborating with a fucking tech company trillionaire beta testing his new line of androids SPECIFICALLY for monsterfuckers?! How did this happen????

Daniel

Vampire!Rachel & Vampire!Daniel

Unlike his brother, Daniel is...frustrating. He is archaic, dogmatic, and difficult to tolerate at times. But...I also understand where his beliefs come from and being forced to share residence with what is essentially food that he is not allowed to eat must be frustrating to him. But all he needs is...proper discipline. And attention. And...affection. I do care about him...deeply. I want him to prosper and be comfortable here. I want him to be happy. I want him to feel as though my manor is a home, not just somewhere where he is a guest. And I hope I can achieve that with him, somehow.

Alma

Vanilla!Rachel & Vanilla!Alma

I care about him. I care about him more than anything. I cared about him before. I like him. I like him a lot. He tries to hard to learn, but he's actually a really good learner. It makes me upset that he seems so afraid of failing. He won't say it or act like it, but I can feel it. The hesitance and even preemptive recoiling as though him messing up will bring him pain. But now that I understand where it comes from...I just want to protect him. I want him to know how much he means to me. How much I see in him. How much I care about and appreciate him for who he is. The man who looks up at the sky and maps stars in his silver eyes. The man who always asks questions and wants to know more than he already knows. The man with an insatiable curiosity and a kind heart. The man who will hear me rattle on about whatever random thing just because he likes hearing me talk about it and likes learning about it. The man who will do the same to me. I...I just wish that everyone he's stuck with at home could see him for who he really is. Not what they wished he was or what they think he is or what they think he's supposed to be. Fucking cunt doesn't deserve her own invention, if you ask me...

Vanilla!Rachel & Mer!Alma

I'll admit, he was kinda scary at first. I couldn't see him and suddenly he was inside me. Didn't even give me a chance to catch my breath or anything or prep me. Then, he looked really scary. But then...he got soft. And cute. And I just wanted more of him. Even now, I look at him, and I just wanna hold him. Let him rest his head on my chest and listen to my heartbeat for a while. He's hot as fuck when he's railing me, but god damn, he's so sweet, too. And cute. It's nice to hold him and kiss him. He makes the best faces. Especially when I mess with his lure.

Alien!Rachel & Space!Alma

He's different. So much different than I could've ever expected. I'd heard reports of the ambassador from Earth from the Congress, before. But...actually meeting him was something else. He isn't even human. He's so different from me, but he feels familiar. Comforting. Like...home, almost. And his interest in my people and our culture is hard not to like. Perhaps I can request that my team visit my planet. I think Alma would like to experience Essek for himself. And I want to show him all my favourite parts of it.

Elianna

Vanilla!Rachel & Android!Elianna

She's so pretty. And confident. And fun. God, I haven't been on a date with a woman in years. I really hope I don't scare her or make her uncomfortable. I wanna get to know her and I can't do that if I fuck up and scare her away before I get the chance to.

Arda

Vanilla!Rachel & Vanilla!Arda

If she's anything like Alma, I think I'll like her. And probably get just as protective and defensive of her as with Alma. I bet making friends with both Alma and her would piss Dr. Chen off. I wonder if Alma's told her about me...

Vanilla!Rachel & Mer!Arda

She's...beautiful. Honestly. And so soft and so sweet. I like just floating around the tank in her arms and sitting on her lap. She's just nice to hold and I like listening to her. She's so gentle and so loving. Also helps that she's really good with her mouth. I could fall asleep floating around on her.

Alien!Rachel & Space!Arda

She's beautiful. She's a lot like Alma. Sort of like hatchmates, I think. Though, they're closer than that. But she's very kind and considerate and I like her. I feel inclined to protect her and defend her, much like Alma. I wonder if she'd like to study the flowers on my planet. She seems the type to enjoy interplanetary botany.

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witcherwrite · 4 years

Text

Disaster Dads Chapter 2

You can read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091329/chapters/53300131

PAVLOV’S DOG

Watching Ciri practice always filled Geralt with fond memories. Of him training with Eskel in this very courtyard when they were younger and the school of Kaer Morhen was at its height.

The three remaining witchers of Kaer Morhen had spent their morning doing their own drills at their master’s insistence. ‘Trained witchers can always take value in practice, especially when someone needs to watch them.’ But now the three of them lounged watching Ciri stumble over another movement with her practice sword .

Geralt was watching her attentively, giving instruction while the two behind him would either give encouragement or jeer. Lambert contributing mostly to the latter. Ciri let out a groan when she failed to complete the pirouette again.

“It’s alright Ciri, try again.” she shot him a bitter look and he gave her an amused smile in turn. She readjusted her grip on the sword and went through the motions once more.

“How long did it take the both of you to get that move down?” Geralt asked, watching Ciri’s feet and how she spun her sword.

Eskel hummed, opening his eyes and sitting upright to answer. “Think it took us; what. Two? Three days to get down?”

Geralt nodded humming, “That’s what I remember. What about you Lambert?”

“‘bout the same.” The youngest witcher spent his time cleaning his swords on a bench.

Geralt hummed again and was about to ask another question when a curse sounded through the yard. Geralt’s head whipped around in Ciri’s direction watching as she stumbled again and shouted.

“Shit!”

Fury built in Geralt’s chest, making his shoulders rise. He’d never curse in front of Ciri. Made sure he was out of earshot if he did and there was no way Eskel or Vesemir would ever dream of cursing near her.

She stumbled again loudly screaming “Goddammit!”

Geralt’s head snapped around glaring at Lambert with ice in his eyes.

Eskel’s mouth was wide in a big crooked grin as Lambert sat pale and still. Eyes meeting Geralt’s and pleading.

“Fuck!” she cried behind them and Geralt’s lips pulled back into a snarl.

“You taught them to her. Now teach her not to say them.”

Lambert shot from his seat, dropping his blades and rushing across the courtyard to talk to Ciri.

Geralt stared, silently fuming as Lambert was trying and failing to press upon her that those words were taboo and where reserved for particular moments. The youngest witcher became even more flustered as Ciri argued that he used them without reservation, so clearly they weren’t so taboo.

Lambert’s gaze flickered over Ciri’s head, focusing on Geralt’s absolutely livid expression. Also catching Eskel smiling so wide that the scars on his face threatened to split.

Lambert argued with her some more only to walk back to them defeated. Geralt stood there, arms crossed and baring down on him.

“Look I’m sorry, but she’s learned them and their’s no unlearning that shit so-”

“Fuck!”

Lambert turned his head to Ciri’s curse. Leaving a perfect opportunity for the White Wolf to clap him on the back of the head.

“Ow! The hell?!”

“You’ll make her stop saying them, or every time I hear her curse I’ll thump you.” he said between gritted teeth.

Lambert’s face twisted in annoyance “That’ll be more trouble for you than me, honestly.”

“Son of a bitch!”

Geralt’s hand hit the back of his head so hard that he could feel his brain rattle in his skull.

“I’ll make it worth my time.” Geralt said walking away. Likely to give Ciri a far more convincing reason as to why she wasn’t allowed to curse.

“Lambert, you’re screwed.” Eskel said, amusement plain in his voice.

“Shut the fuck up Eskel.” he said rubbing the back of his head.

“See!” Ciri cried “he says it all the time!”

If looks could kill Lambert would have been dead three times over already.

After a strict talk from Vesemir and a few from Geralt. Ciri had slowed down significantly in her cursing, though every once and a while one would slip. Then Geralt, true to his word, had heard it uttered would appear like a goddamn Foglet in the night to slap him across the back of the head.

He’d even done it while Lambert was sleeping once, from Ciri cursing after losing a game of Gwent. After a few weeks, he had begun to fear that he may have a lifetime of this. Listening to Ciri talk 24/7, living in terror as to whether or not she’d curse. He’d maybe only get thumped once or twice a week now, but it was frequent enough that Lambert feared Ciri might catch on.

At the moment he was too tired to particularly care about anything. He’d spent the entire night chasing harpies around Kaer Morhen trying to get rid of the last of the nests before winter came through. Though Geralt had been subjected to a similar pain involving Drowners by the lake’s edge. It had been a small consolidation prize as Eskel was the one forced to make breakfast that morning.

Eskel sucked at breakfast, he’d somehow managed to overcook and undercook the oats all at the same time. Lambert glowered into his mash, watching as Ciri was equally unimpressed, poking her spoon into it. Both of them making a disgusted face when it squished and crunched in one stab. Ciri still tried eating some of it only to drop half of the goop into her lap.

“Shit.”

Lambert’s entire body seized preemptively. Making Ciri jump across from him. He waited, and Ciri stared at him like he’d gone properly mad. He waited a moment more, peering around the hall. Geralt was nowhere in sight, could he be so lucky? Eskel had come to sit at the table, looking at the both of them curiously.

“Geralt’s still out.” Lambert cut him a glare. Not believing Geralt’s lifelong friend for a single fucking moment. But then another tense minute passed and there was a small amount of hope that had formed in his chest. Ciri had cursed, and Geralt had somehow, by the grace of some deity. Hadn’t heard her.

He released a slow breath. Joy slowly spreading through him, not even horribly cooked oats could dull his joy. He turned back to his bowl, still scanning as he leaned his head down for a mouthful.

Out of nowhere, a hand came down on the back of his head, smashing his face into his oats.

He shot out of his seat with a howl. “GOD FUCKING DAMNNIT!”

Eskel was wheezing from how hard he was laughing and Geralt looked equally amused as he sat next to Ciri on the bench across from him. Lambert wiped crunchy yet squishy oats out of his face, debating whether or not to throttle Geralt in front of Ciri.

“How in the fuck do you walk so quietly?” Geralt glowered at him as he also ate an equally unappetizing breakfast.

“I don’t curse so much, to begin with, and I actually paid attention when Vesemir taught witchers how to walk silently.”

Lambert was about to retort but paused when he saw Eskel and Geralt suddenly sit straighter. Without warning, he was thumped yet again. His head was reeling as he turned around to see Vesemir’s annoyed expression.

“Must you be so loud and vulgar? It’s unbecoming of a Wolf School Witcher to curse as if he was a sailor.”

Lambert rubbed the back of his head listening to Eskel and Geralt chuckle behind him.

“Sorry, Uncle Vesemir.”

“Lambert, give it back!”

He chuckled as he watched Ciri try and reach for the tome that she had been reading in the great hall.

“Vesemir wants me to finish the chapter on forktails before dinner!”

“Well, then you’ll just have to get this back from me before then!”

Ciri leaped and Lambert jerked his arm up as he walked away and out of the main hall.

“You’re a jerk!” She shouted.

Lambert nodded still holding the tome above him.

“That I am. What are you going to do about it?”

He swerved from a well-aimed punch to the balls, cackling at her near miss. “Gonna have to be more clever than that!”

She stopped following him and just stared. Lambert looked back a smug smile on his face. Watching her face grow red from anger.

“What’s the matter? Run out of fucking ideas?”

Suddenly her anger dissipated and was replaced with a matching smug smile.

“What? Gonna throw things at me now? Or you gonna go get a ladder?”

She shook her head “No, I’m just going to say,” she drew a large breath “FUCK!”

Her curse echoed through the large hall and rattled Lambert’s bones and brain. Already smacking around in his skull.

She smiled sweetly at his pale face. “May I have my book back please?”

He handed her back the tome, leaning close and whispering “You’re a bitch.”

“You’re the one who taught me.” She said holding the book close. Her grin widening was the only warning he got before five fingers and a palm met the back of his head.

Geralt was deadly silent as a witcher creeping about, but how he managed to be so quiet while running like a bat out of hell would remain one of Kaer Morhen’s many mysteries. He groaned rubbing the back of his head as Ciri happily walked back to a table to resume reading.

“You know she only curses now just so that you’ll hit me right?”

Geralt grunted, nodded his head “Yes, and every time you deserve it.”

“I did not!” Geralt’s piercing gaze made him shrink. “Really? Why did she curse this time?”

“That’s not really important!”

“Hm.” Geralt brushed past him a small smile on his face.

Ciri barely cursed any longer. In fact, the only time she cursed now was to make Geralt attack Lambert for teasing her. Even though Geralt was aware of this development it didn’t bother him enough to quit the punishment, much to Lambert’s annoyance.

Ciri was barely a factor in the thought process any longer. The act becoming second nature for Geralt to half-heartedly strike and for Lambert to brace. A few odd times Lambert would manage to dodge or block but that only turned it into a game for Geralt to torture him. Though both agreed to bring the practice to an end after a brief stint to gather supplies in a nearby village.

He and Lambert were in the town’s marketplace, haggling with a merchant over the prices of his items. They really needed to grab a few small contracts while they were down here for coin, but Geralt was always in a rush to return to Ciri as soon as possible. Lambert doubted he even slept the nights when Vesemir forced him to leave the keep every blue moon for contract work.

Lambert had begun to tune out Geralt’s debate with the merchant over hardened leather and became aware of a family out for the day as well. Two of the children were getting into an argument, the eldest picking on the youngest about something. The two children were getting louder and Geralt remained blissfully unaware, completely focused on making the price drop just a little more. The youngest began to throw a fit for the parent’s attention and for them to intervene. After being ignored for a moment more the child, very suddenly and loudly, cursed.

Then, without prompting and in mid-bargain with the merchant. Geralt thumped him. Lambert hadn’t reacted until he brought his head back up to see the merchant’s bewildered face. His brain caught up with him finally. Did Geralt just?

Lambert cast the white-haired witcher a glare who was staring at his hand in absolute befuddlement. Equally confused as to what the hell just happened.

“If the prices mean that much to ye. I suppose I can drop it further.” the merchant said uneasily.

Lambert had to choke back a laugh as Geralt nodded dumbly back to the merchant. In a confused daze, he paid for the items and didn’t say anything until they were away from the merchant square.

Lambert just stared at Geralt, a smile plastered on his face the whole walk.

After a beat more of silence the White Wolf finally spoke. “I think Ciri has improved all she’s going to. No need to keep punishing you for it.” he said carefully. His stoic face did nothing to hide his embarrassment, face slowly turning red.

“Is that code for ‘my daughter has trained me so well that I no longer have control of my own hands’?”

Geralt didn’t even bother glaring at him. Merely shook his head and mumbled “Fuck.”

Lambert thumped him.

#kaer morhen #the witcher #dad geralt #geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher eskel #eskel #vesemir #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #child ciri

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snidgetwidgeon · 4 years

Text

Insurrection Recollections Series: Clandestine Research

After Zelda's father orders her to give up her research, Zelda and Purah hatch a plan. The only way it will succeed is if Link intervenes.

~~~

The day after her father told her she could no longer waste her time by playing the scholar, Zelda was issued an official written directive via castle courier as if she were one of his subordinates. She was livid. It instructed her to relinquish all of her ancient technology artefacts and materials to the Tech Lab by the end of the week. Oh how considerate of him to give me some time to sort out my busy schedule! She tore the missive to pieces and threw it in the fireplace.

Fine. She would do it post haste to the detriment of everything else she had going on. Studies with her economy instructor? Nope, she had a directive. Receiving the latest visiting dignitary in court that evening? Nope, she had a directive from the King. A fruitless visit to the Spring of Power to perform devotions that brought her nothing but scorn from her own people? Thank Nayru she had a Goddess damned directive from her father that allowed her to avoid the very thing she no longer wanted to do anyway!

Link looked on as Princess Zelda stomped back and forth between her room and study, forgetting things in her state and then becoming even more upset. He had offered his help but she refused so he stood watch on the bridge. The best he could do was stay out of her way and be available at a moment’s notice.

When she finally got to her journal, having left it for last, she closed the door to her study to have a moment of privacy. As she re-read some of the pages detailing her adventures into archaeology, she thought about how they were merely notes and should not be subject to the purge. She decided to keep it.

Emerging from her study with a resolve that Link could see was strained at best, Zelda nodded to him that she was ready to leave. He hailed an available attendant and they assisted in carrying items down to the stables. Even with Zelda insisting on carrying some things herself, the attendant would need to make one more trip and grab another person along the way.

While the rest was being collected, Zelda and Link saddled up the horses in silence. To anyone else, this would seem no different from the early days of their time together when she resented him and their silence was cold and strained. Now it was a companionable silence. He caught her looking at him over her horse’s back as she was tightening her straps. He smiled.

She felt a flush and a sudden need to make an excuse. “You always have such a way with horses...” She then ducked behind hers and pretended to do something else.

Between their mounts and a third mare carrying normal travel supplies, they were able to take everything. Zelda also wore a satchel on her back with a few of the more delicate items. As they made their way through the grounds, Link steered his horse around slightly, indicating down the path that led to the docks and asked, “Shall we take the ferry?”

“No, thank you.” She looked straight ahead with her nose stuck figuratively up toward her father as she passed him. “I would like to make this trip last as long as possible if you don’t mind.”

~~~

They arrived in the evening, just in time for dinner. Zelda and Link had agreed on the way there that she could have a night of normalcy. While she went in, he attended the horses and unloaded everything, stacking it in a tidy pile just inside the workshop to be dealt with in the morning. He then joined the others, received a heaping serve of beef curry and proceeded to keep mostly to himself as he was wont to do in large social gatherings.

He watched Zelda closely, but not obviously, and noticed how very bittersweet it all was for her. She would no doubt be wishing it could be like any other visit. She laughed and carried on with the others, sharing how well the trials at the castle had gone the previous day. But he could see it. Any small moment where she wasn’t engaged with someone, her face fell and the light was gone from her eyes. When Purah noticed and asked if she was alright, she easily brushed it off by saying she was just tired from her busy schedule and a full day of travel.

The following morning, Link was in tow when Zelda entered Purah’s messy workspace with the Sheikah Slate. They had already seen to the items in the workshop, making sure they were distributed to the proper places around the Lab.

“Good morning, good morning! You’re just in time- oh, I’m so glad you brought the Slate. I meant to send word that you should come by the Lab soon so I could use it, but you must have read my mind because here you are; and I completely forgot to send the word.” She put her arm around Zelda’s shoulders and guided her to the large stone in the middle of the room, “Come, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think.”

Zelda let herself be dragged over but instead of looking at the stone, she sort of glazed over in an effort to shield herself from more pain. “Purah, I must apologize.”

“What for? Give it a second, I didn’t expect you to figure it out right away, silly.”

“No, I mean- I should have told you first thing last night.” She handed the Sheikah Slate to Purah who took it with brows furrowed in concern but also remained quiet to listen to her friend.

“Father has ordered me to focus all of my attention on my training. I’m- I can no longer assist the research team. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just... kind of wanted to pretend it didn’t happen for as long as I could.”

“Oh, Zelly, no. It’s ok.” Purah gave her a quick but sincere hug before going off. “Din’s balls, this is the pits! I’ll be lodging a formal complaint- you watch me- he can’t take away one of my best researchers.” She waved the Slate around dramatically. “Now I’m going to have to find a new translator; who does he think he is!?”

Zelda started giggling. As always, Purah’s infectious energy and earnestness made her feel a bit less crap when she was down. “The King,” Zelda’s giggling evolved into open laughter. ”He’s the King, Purah.”

Purah just pushed up her glasses and said matter-of-factly, “Well... King or no King, he’s acting like a fool.”

Link smiled from his post across the room thinking about how he couldn’t agree more. The day before yesterday on the bridge he had questioned if his oath to protect the Princess extended to defending her from the King himself.

“Were you leaving today?” Purah asked, but didn’t let Zelda answer and kept talking, “You’re not leaving today. I need your help with something and you aren’t officially done until you leave, you hear? Come with me.” She strode out of her office on a mission.

Zelda smiled after her and then looked at Link with a raised brow asking- not for his approval, but more his opinion. He merely shrugged and gestured that she should follow the woman.

Over the course of the day Link observed their antics and found moments to opportunistically disappear when it looked like they were going to need a person for some sort of trial. That night, some celebrations ramped up as Purah decided to throw a gratitude party to thank Zelda for all that she had contributed. Link thought that idea was pretty smart, making it look like Zelda’s choice to take on other important tasks. This way, she could leave with her head held high, at least until she was out of sight.

About mid morning the following day, Link got the horses ready for the return home and then realized he may have been a bit preemptive when he went to collect Zelda. She and Purah looked at him like startled foxes when he entered Purah’s office and they proceeded to finish their conversation in hushed voices.

Perhaps Zelda wanted to stay on longer? Then Purah spoke normally again and handed Zelda a book. “So, if you could just take that one back to my room, that would be great.”

Zelda nodded and said nonchalantly, “No problem.”

As she walked out, Link started to follow, but Purah exclaimed, “Oh, Link! Could you help me carry these?” She grinned, “Please?”

“Um, sure. What is it?” he asked when he didn’t see anything specific that she was asking about.

“Just a sec!” Her eyes darted around and she grabbed a box that already had a few guardian pieces in it which she proceeded to unceremoniously dump in the middle of the floor. She then flitted around the room grabbing random items to throw in the box that she needed ‘help’ carrying.

He wandered over to the second story window to check on the horses outside while he waited to see how- whatever it was that she was up to- played out. He didn’t have to wait long at all as he noticed Zelda, distinctly not in Purah’s room, and still holding onto that book. He immediately knew what it was. Ancient contraband.

She approached her white horse and gave it a scratch as she went to place the book in her saddlebags. As she lifted the flap she hesitated for a moment. He smirked as she went over to his horse instead and buried the book into his saddle bag. Clever, but not clever enough. If she was worried that her father might go as far as to search her things when she returned, then he was not going to take the chance that they wouldn’t do the same to him. He’d have to hide it better later.

“Right! So... this stuff here. Could you please take it downstairs?” Purah requested with another cheesy grin.

He balked a little at everything sticking out of it. She couldn’t at least have made her distraction easy? He gave a little sigh, “No problem.”

~~~

That night as Zelda slept by the campfire, Link snuck over to the horses and quietly dug through his saddle bag for the book. She tucked it right at the bottom under the other book he generally kept with him in case he ever had time to kill. He looked back over to her sleeping form and surreptitiously stuck it behind his back just inside the waistband of his trousers, then tightened his belt over it a bit. Sleep would be a bit less comfortable and he’d have to wear his cloak over it even if he got warm tomorrow, but that should do the trick.

When they arrived back home, Link clocked that their approach was noticed with a bit more interest than usual. Zelda may not have been wrong in her suspicions regarding her father; the King was becoming more stressed and paranoid by the day.

They were met at the West gatehouse by a young castle guard who looked nervous. “Many pardons Princess Zelda, but we have instructions to check your cargo.”

She kept her calm and said coldly, “Do as you will.”

Another guard approached to help and she felt her ire rise as they rummaged through her things right next to her. She didn’t bother hiding her withering stare. She wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

Once they were satisfied, the guard bowed. “My apologies, Princess.”

“Indeed.” She then clicked for her horse to continue and went no more than two steps before she heard the guard behind her ask for Link to please remain still for a search as well. Her stomach sank and she twisted around in her saddle before pulling her mount up sideways. Outwardly, she appeared to just be waiting for her Knight Attendant. Link appeared entirely unfazed, and why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know that she’d foolishly set him up to be punished.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the guards, then stared sharply at the one that took out a book. He turned it over and opened it to a random page in the middle before nodding to Link and placing it back in his bag. “Our apologies, Sir Link. Please enjoy the rest of your day.” They crossed an arm across their chest and nodded.

Link came to join her as she continued a few more steps before she stopped awkwardly. Her mind was racing. Did it get lost!? She gave a harried look at Link who returned it with a head tilt of curiosity. Did he find it and throw it out!? She couldn’t act on any of her agonizing questions!

“On second thought,” she called after the guards, “You may take the horses to the stables. Please have my things delivered and report to my father that I will be resting from today’s journey and will not be disturbed.” She dismounted, continuing out of the gatehouse on foot. Link followed suit.

As she went up the steps leading to the courtyard below her quarters, she was afraid to say anything with patrolling guards so near. She finally stomped up the stairs to her room in a frenzied state. That book was important! How was she going to find out about what happened to it without being seriously reprimanded from going against her father’s will?

She practically forgot Link was behind her and before she entered her room, he said in a hushed tone, “The next time you need me to hide something for you,” he pulled the book out from under his tunic behind his back, “it might be better that I’m actually involved.”

She looked down at it and her eyes widened before snapping back up to his smug face. It quickly turned into one of shock as she grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him in. After riding the highest levels of stress, fear of discovery, and relief all in the span of a few minutes, she latched onto him in a tight hug without a second thought. “Thank Hylia, you have it! First I thought I was fine, then I thought I’d- and you would be punished for sure as well, and then I thought it was lost somehow-” she had pulled away at this point, “but how could it be? I hid it at the very bottom.”

Link watched her nervous rambling with a rather judgmental, yet amused expression.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He held his hands up, book still in one, as if to accept defeat to a potential argument that hadn’t even started.

“I didn’t think that they would bother to search you.” She stopped herself as she noticed her old habit of deflecting fault was rearing its ugly head. She had vowed to be better since he saved her life in the desert and right now, that meant an apology was probably due.

She sighed, “I’m sorry, Link. I should have trusted you. I guess I just thought that you wouldn’t approve or... may have stopped me.”

“Have you met you?” he asked rhetorically as he handed the book over.

She copped his joke and pressed her lips together hard so she wouldn’t laugh on principle, but her belly bounced a little in a silent chortle anyway. Once she regained her composure her brows knitted and she enquired, “But why didn’t you just tell me you knew before we got back? You could have-” her mouth gaped as she gasped in realization. “You were getting back at me for not telling you!?”

“I did think I was owed a tiny bit of payback for being an unknowing accomplice in smuggling your ancient contraband.”

“Well... I...” She became flustered in her defeat.

He hadn’t meant to actually make her feel bad so he smiled. “It’s ok. I’m on your side so just tell me next time you need help.”

He probably thought that was just a nice thing to say but his genuine declaration of support struck right to the base of her core. The oaths that they had taken at the beginning of this colossal mess had meant nothing to her back then, but through the eventual development of their friendship, she discovered that those ties now carried weight; and though she still felt useless for the coming trial, she respected their bond more than ever. And he did too. Urbosa and Impa were the only other people whom she felt truly knew her. Now she had another, and she felt blessed that he was always by her side.

Blinking away her hard stare at his words, she came back to herself and said, “Alright then. Since you’re now in on this, you can be my mule.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m Purah’s best translator so I’ll need you to feed any potential discoveries to Impa. If she’s away you can take them to Robbie. He’ll still be here for a while yet working on the Guardians.”

She continued nattering on, the way she did when she seemed to speak more to herself than to another person, while she sat down with the book at her desk and started to flip through the pages. “I’ll be starting right away. I’ve actually been dying to dive in. Did you want to stay until I get something ready or do you have things you need to do?”

When she looked back at him he had an unspoken expectation on his face which she proceeded to misread. “It’s quite alright if you have things to take care of, I’m sure I’ll be a while yet before I have- oh! You mean,” she smiled sheepishly and then cleared her throat. “Sorry. Sir Link, do you consent?”

The way she asked had him closing his eyes and shaking his head in amusement.

“No?”

“No- I mean, yes, Princess, you have my consent.” He bowed eloquently. “I’ll return later when you might have something for me.”

“Thank you.”

He opened the door to leave and she added, “And thank you for...”

He stopped and looked back.

“For being on my side,” she finished.

He nodded and went.

She sat for a few moments looking at where he’d just been, a tingle running through all of her limbs in a wave, causing goosebumps.

~~~

There had been a few things of interest that she sent to Purah via Link’s underground network. Thankfully, she had kept many detailed notes about how to translate ancient Sheikah text. She always was a good note taker. Her very own research journal was an invaluable resource that she had justifiably not been made to give up. Her father must have either thought she couldn’t do much with it or didn’t want to go to such an extent to violate her personal belongings after he took the only thing that was bringing her any joy.

She was out at her study tower again, working on it at a time she was not likely to be disturbed- but even if she were, Link was on duty outside. She came across a passage on underground structures and thought she was finally on track to learning where the pillars were. If only they could be located, the research team would supposedly be able to harness many more Guardians, not just the ones that had been dug up. These ones were properly stored and ready for when the Calamity struck.

With her potential conclusion on the material of the passage being under such a bias, she kept getting stuck. The page wasn’t making sense as it stated the pillars were all over Hyrule; but she knew them to be under the castle.

She read on about something pertaining to activation of the network, or that everything was connected, or... something. Her eyes were getting tired and she felt a brain melt coming on. If only she had more points of reference. She pined after the Slate. In its absence, all she had left was the library and she couldn’t risk going there without being watched. She started to lean back in her chair and zone out at her wall in abject defeat when she noticed a doodle. It was a less detailed, but accurate copy of the tapestry in Impa’s office.

Just as she began to think she wouldn’t glean anything from a picture she’d looked at a thousand times, she noticed the pillars framing the castle. There were also a few of the same at the bottom, and one in each quadrant... all around Hyrule. But the others wouldn’t be the pillars. They look like towers.

She sat up straight and began to re-read the translation. If she thought of them as towers, and there was some sort of connection between them- but where were they? She’d practically been all over the kingdom and had never seen such a structure. Perhaps buried, like the pillars!

With newly invigorated passion, she stood and stretched, then crossed the small circular room to the door. Opening it part way, she saw Link standing at ease and then turning to regard her.

“Sir Link? I believe I am in dire need of a hot chocolate in order to continue performing at the best of my abilities. Could you please send for one?”

He smiled knowingly and dipped his head in kind before leaving to find an attendant or a less strictly positioned guard to pass on the request.

“Oh, and please get one for yourself! If you want to,” she added.

He waved behind him to acknowledge he’d heard.

She closed the door and looked over at the materials on her desk and the drawing of the tapestry. She felt there was something potentially big here. If so, she wanted so badly to find a way to tell Impa or Purah herself. She thought of the devotions she had looming in a few hours time. They were now most of her days and she felt more like a helpless failure than ever before. She couldn’t bear the thought of never being able to share in discoveries again. She would wait until she could see them somehow. At least then she would have some joy.

#breath of the wild #fanfiction #writing #*trumpet noise* this is my first fic post #been derping away on my stories for over a year and finally have something to show #runs around like a cucco in excitement #clandestine research #Insurrection Recollections Series #snidgetwidgeon scribbles

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bnhayyy · 3 years

Text

The Call (3)

Chapter Title: Secret

Wordcount: 8.2k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Between civilians learning about the supernatural and a new player introducing herself, Mikasa has a hard day. And Annie lies. A lot.

Notes: Preemptively, I want to let you know that chapter lengths for this fic are going to vary wildly. I outline chapters before I write them and use events and intensity to pace out what all goes in a chapter. Chapter length is simply however many words it takes to turn the outline into an actual chapter. This means that while the average chapter length will probably be about 4k, some will be significantly shorter, while others, such as this one, will be significantly longer. Also! If you are enjoying this fic, please consider joining my writing discord.

Erwin called Mikasa after trigonometry the next day, just before she could start her patrol. When she didn't answer, he sent a text. That, combined with the knowledge of just how rarely he texted, made her pause.

Smith: Meet me in my office

Smith: It’s urgent

Mikasa frowned down at the message. To say that she didn't relish the thought of jumping at the watcher's beck and call was an understatement, especially when doing so would delay her patrol. However, despite her attempts to avoid him, she had come to realize that he was not the sort of man to use words like 'urgent' lightly. For him to do so now…

Mina hadn't returned to class that day.

Mikasa pursed her lips and allowed herself to get lost in her frustration as she gazed down at the text for a moment longer. Then, with a furtive glance at the rapidly darkening sky, she shoved her phone in her pocket and turned on her heel.

It was a short walk to Erwin's office. Located on the second floor of the English department building, it wasn't especially large or convenient, but it was simple. Inconspicuous. It was, she supposed, what he could manage as a teacher at a community college, for that was what he was to the public.

She wasn't certain how he had convinced the administration to allow him to paint the walls pink.

Armin had suggested that it was because he was charismatic. Personally, she didn't see it, but that didn't particularly matter. None of it did, in the end. She was probably going to be told about a particularly vicious vampire preying on college students. Or maybe a flesh-eating demon, considering that there hadn't been any remains found. Whatever it was, it would be horrible news. And if she was going to receive that horrible news inside a small pink room, then she was going to receive that horrible news inside a small pink room. The only thing that mattered was that she learned what she had to learn and killed what she had to kill.

The whole thing was perfectly laid out in her mind. Perhaps that was why she didn't bother knocking when she reached Erwin's office; she thought she knew what to expect.

She didn't expect to open the door and find four people crowded around Erwin's desk, one of them holding a red-stained cloth to his neck.

Mikasa automatically stumbled a step back at the same time that five pairs of eyes swung toward her. It was with a faint burst of surprise that she realized she could recognize all of them. Reiner was standing in front of the desk, his face a mask of grave urgency. Jean sat in a chair beside him, clutching the cloth to his bleeding neck. Whereas Reiner seemed unsurprised by her arrival, Jean's eyes were wide and shocked. Finally, a pair of goofballs from her history class stood off in the corner, whispering frantically to each other even as their gazes remained locked on Mikasa.

They only stared at each other in silence for a moment. It was a moment too long for Mikasa. With a tense knot of discomfort growing tighter within her by the second, she turned her attention to the person she least wanted to see right now, but most needed to hear from.

"Erwin," she croaked. "What's going on?"

"Mikasa," Erwin began, his expression steady and voice damningly even. Like his urgent matter hadn't just called her into an office full of civilians. Like it didn't look like something was happening that was very much not supposed to happen. "There was an attack on campus today."

"A vampire attack," Jean muttered, the shell-shocked disbelief plain in his voice. Reiner gave him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder. Jean immediately winced and rubbed his free hand against the base of his neck, causing Reiner to withdraw with an apologetic look.

"A vampire attack," the ponytailed goofball repeated, her voice a conflicted mixture of excited, awe-struck, and terrified. Her friend, meanwhile, just looked horrified. It was a look that she saw mirrored on Jean's face, although he also seemed a little more distant and nauseous. Probably because of the blood loss.

Mikasa tried to ignore all three of them. Even so, she couldn't help but shoot brief glances their way every few seconds. Erwin, however, had no such problem. He just spared Jean a short, semi-concerned glance before continuing. "Mister Kirstein was attacked in full view of Miss Braus and Mister Springer. I arrived just in time to see the vampire dispatched by Mister Braun." He paused, casting a long, searching look at Reiner.

"And now they know," Mikasa said, unsure if she was numb, or feeling too many things at once. She supposed it was a good thing that Eren wasn't there. The office suddenly felt too damn claustrophobic without an extra presence, even one that didn’t really exist.

"Well, I've known about stuff like this for a while," Reiner admitted with a shrug. Despite having the full force of Erwin's piercing gaze on him, he managed to look only a little uncomfortable. At another time, she may have been impressed.

"I thought you might," Erwin said. "Most civilians don't walk around with stakes on them."

"Is that what that was?" the bald goofball murmured. There was a distant, shaken quality to his voice. Mikasa could understand it, but couldn't quite get herself to care right now. Heedless to her judgment, the goofball continued. "A vampire killing thing? I've seen it before, when you were getting stuff from your bag. I just thought you were really into woodworking."

Reiner blinked. "I'm terrible at carpentry," he said.

"Really?" the bald guy asked. "You don't look it."

"Are we really having this conversation right now?" Jean whispered.

"No," Mikasa cut in.

To Erwin, she asked, "why did you call me here? Do you think this vampire is the one responsible for the disappearances?" Three civilians finding out about the existence of the supernatural had the potential to be bad, but she didn't see how calling the slayer into the situation could make it better. She couldn't see how getting her involved could do anything but make it worse.

But if Erwin had called her in to talk about the vampire, why did it sound like Reiner had already killed it? And why did he call her in while everyone else was still there?

"I doubt it," Erwin said, lending unfortunate credence to the sinking feeling in her stomach. "If a supernatural being is behind those, it has been far more careful than this vampire was. It may have been emboldened by the disappearances, but that is likely the full extent of the connection."

"So you don't think a demon is behind them?" Mikasa challenged. At the same time, the girl with the ponytail piped back up to ask, "wait - so Franz and Hannah and all them; a vampire was behind all those?"

Erwin frowned. In the seconds that he took to compose his reply, Jean grumbled, "I thought they were talking about demons."

"Vampires are demons," Reiner chimed in. "It's just that not all demons are vampires."

"Right," Jean said, a heavy sigh leaving him along with his words. He slumped forward, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "I guess it doesn't matter if there's something out there killing people either way."

"We don't know that," Erwin finally said. Meeting Mikasa's gaze with his own, he said, "I'm not saying that it isn't a demon responsible for this. However, most demons leave some form of remains behind and don't bother hiding them well, let alone this thoroughly. We cannot afford to dismiss the possibility that there is a human behind this."

Jean dropped his face fully into his hand and made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and the sound of someone choking. "And I don't suppose there's any chance that this could all be one big coincidence?"

"Yeah," the bald guy piped up. "That guy tried to take a chunk out of Jean's neck, but I mean, have you met Jean? I can't say I'd blame-"

"Shut up, Connie," Jean grumbled.

Reiner tried to hide a laugh with a cough into his fist. Jean raised his head and lowered his hand to shoot him a glare. Meanwhile, Erwin offered a small, sad smile.

"It is possible," the watcher said. "But at this point, it would be best not to get your hopes up."

"Yeah," the ponytailed girl murmured. "Take a look around; it's been starting to feel like an episode of Frontline around here."

"Don't be silly, Sasha," Connie chided, his already shaky voice sounding that much more agitated. "There are no vampires in Frontline."

A thoughtful look flickered across Erwin's face. "Actually-"

Mikasa felt something inside of her snap. "So you aren't ready to commit to it being a demon," she said, voice cold as the arctic. "Fine. You still haven't told me why I'm here ."

Erwin's expression shifted, but it was too fast and undefined for her to stand a chance at telling exactly how. That was fine. She didn't particularly care at the moment.

"Jean, Sasha, and Connie all know about the existence of the supernatural now," he began, his voice never once rising or showing any sign of losing balance in face of her ire. "For their own safety, it would be best for them to learn more."

Mikasa had to fight back the urge to grind her teeth together. She wouldn't have bothered if it was just her. Unfortunately, allowing this collection of near-strangers and one almost-friend to see how much he was getting to her was simply unacceptable. Instead, she kept her voice even and measured in its coldness as she said, "and you want me to teach them."

"No," Erwin said. "I wouldn't expect that of you. I will tell them everything that they need to know. I called you here because if there are more people in the area who are aware, it would be safest for us to know about each other."

Unthinkingly, Mikasa's gaze drifted to Reiner, and his eyes met hers.

There was a moment of silence in which one could hear a pin drop.

Unfortunately, Erwin was good at reading things like that. "Is there something I should know?" he asked.

Mikasa and Reiner maintained eye contact for a long moment, him frowning while her expression remained stuck in one of neutrality, unsure of what to think and feel. She had known that the existence of a second slayer was something that she should come to her watcher with. It had simply been too easy not to with everything else that was clogging up her mind. But now the subject had resurfaced, and she found herself unsure of what course of action should be taken.

It was supposed to be the watcher council's duty to assist and guide the slayer. That did not mean that they were beyond reproach. She knew of their capacity for failure, was always aware of the damage that might have been avoided if they had simply been a little faster, a little smarter, found her a little sooner

That was damage wrought by inaction. And unfortunately, with how long that inaction had persisted, she did not yet have any true way to gauge what harm they may do when they were actually involved.

With everything so unsure, what right did she have to hand Annie over to them?

Perhaps it was a good thing that it had come up while one of Annie's friends was around. That meant that it ultimately wasn't her call to make.

Mikasa couldn't help but feel a burst of selfish relief when Reiner finally turned his gaze toward Erwin, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"My friend Bertolt also knows," Reiner hesitantly admitted. "Because our friend, Annie, is also a slayer."

Erwin froze. His normally composed facade fractured just enough for a hint of shock to bleed through. Mikasa may have enjoyed it were it not for how his sharp eyes immediately sought her out. It seemed that her apparent familiarity with Reiner had made him dismiss the possibility that his words were as much news to her as him; that look was commanding her to talk.

Not demanding. Commanding. She didn't know exactly what the difference was, but in that moment, she knew it was there. It told her that she would not be able to worm her way out of this no matter how hard she tried. That was why, for the second time in as many days, she forced those horrible words out of her mouth and tried not to let them touch her. "Something happened not long after I was called. I died for a few minutes."

Suddenly, she was acutely away of Jean, Connie, and Sasha's silence, of their eyes boring into her. Her skin crawled beneath Erwin's piercing gaze. Even Reiner's contemplative expression, for all that she'd already told him this story yesterday, felt like too much.

She tried to brush the suffocating feeling off with a shrug. When that failed, she added, "I didn't think it was important."

"It is," Erwin said.

"Yeah," Mikasa murmured. "I can see that."

That horrible silence returned. Or at least, it tried to. Sasha interrupted it by taking a step forward and stammering out, "So, I- uh- I know that this might be a bad time, but. What's a slayer?"

Erwin cast Mikasa a long look. Then, slowly, he said, "I think it might be better to discuss this with all of us here." Turning his attention to Reiner, he asked, "do you think your friends would be willing to meet with us tomorrow morning? Say, in the library, at nine o'clock?"

"There's an us now, huh?" Jean murmured. His expression was lost and distant, save for the hint of sadness that flickered across his features when he glanced at Mikasa every few seconds.

Meanwhile, Reiner slowly nodded. "Yeah. Bertolt might have work, but Annie- I can't promise she'll be happy, but yeah, I think I can swing it."

"Good," Erwin said. "Mikasa-"

She cut him off, clinging to one of the only thoughts she could formulate at the moment. "You said it's safer for everyone who knows about the supernatural to know about each other," she said. "Do you really believe that?"

The council had done nothing to earn her trust, but she could admit that Erwin possessed a decent amount of expertise on certain matters. Enough so that his opinion may be worth considering here

Erwin blinked. "Of course," he said. "It's safest not to know, but where that fails, there's safety in numbers."

"I'm going to tell Marco, then," Jean said, voice steadier than it had been throughout the rest of the conversation

"I strongly advise against it," Erwin cautioned. "It may be hard to believe, but it is safest not to know about these things. Once you are aware, the odds of you being targeted by a vampire or demon increase exponentially. After what happened earlier, it would be irresponsible for me not to teach you how to defend yourself, but believe me when I say that your friend is better off not knowing."

It looked like Jean had more to say, but Mikasa didn't see a point in sticking around to hear it. Not when she already knew everything she needed and had so many reasons to leave. She gave a stiff nod and said, "I'll bring Armin with me tomorrow."

With that, she turned around and swept out of the room - and away from all of the pitying looks.

She had to patrol.

***

The sun had long since sunken over the horizon by the time she was able to head out on patrol. She couldn't help but be irritated by the time lost despite knowing that it probably wouldn't make any difference. Most demons, especially vampires, weren't truly active until two or three hours after nightfall. The meeting may have eaten up a chunk of her time, but it hadn't taken that long. It was most likely that she hadn't missed anything at all.

Most likely. What about the times when unlikely things happened? If there had been something out there and she had missed it...

Mikasa fought down the frustration threatening to well up and forced herself to focus on the situation as it was. If something had happened in the extra time that she was away, then she had missed it. There was nothing she could do that could change that. What she had to do now was keep her eyes peeled for potential threats.

The graveyard seemed empty aside from herself; not even Eren was there to accompany her. That was good. She wanted space after what Erwin had dropped on her. However, there was something about the emptiness that set her on edge, the creeping feeling that she was wrong, that she had to be missing something. It almost made her wish that-

"Well," a bright, mocking voice reached down from above. "If it isn't the slayer. Sun set... oof, over an hour ago, but hey. Don't rush on my account."

Mikasa turned around, stepped back, and looked up. There was an old oak tree not five feet away from where she was standing. Its branches were wide and sprawling. Sitting with her feet dangling over the edge of one of the thickest ones, dangerously close to directly over her, was a woman. She thought she saw brown hair and freckles, but it was difficult to make out between the low light of the evening and the additional shade of the tree. The thing that really stood out was her grin, wide and jeering. Like someone laughing at a joke that they hadn't yet seen fit to let anyone else in on.

In a situation like this, odds were that she was the joke.

Mikasa took a few more deft steps back, just to put some more space between herself and the stranger. Then she scowled. Questions like 'who are you' and 'what did you want' were worse than pointless. So instead, she commanded, "get down."

"Mmm, no," the woman said. "I don't feel like fighting tonight. Besides, you should be happy to get a break."

Mikasa didn't say anything. She looked over at the oak tree and followed the path up to the branch that the woman was sitting on, trying to figure out how to get at her without giving her an advantage in the process.

The woman didn't seem at all bothered by her silence - or by her very visibly scoping out the situation. She cheerfully continued, "I mean, you work your ass off pretty much every night, even when there isn't actually anything to do. But I can guarantee that nothing's going to happen tonight; not with me around."

That made Mikasa pause, but not for a good reason. She felt every muscle in her body tense as her gaze jerked back to the woman. "Why is that?" she asked.

"Why else?" the stranger asked. "Paradis is a small pond, and I'm the biggest fish."

The biggest fish.

With recent events, what would being the biggest fish entail?

As far as Mikasa was concerned, it was as good as a confession.

She was moving before she even stopped to think about it. She spun around to the other side of the tree, putting some distance between herself and the stranger, and planted one foot firmly amidst the roots at its base. Her other foot was placed in the middle of the trunk. One push, and she was able to reach out to grasp one of the low-hanging branches. Mikasa pulled and quickly twisted herself up to the top of the trunk, where it split away into a maze of branches-

And was met with a grumbled, "for fuck's sake." In the milliseconds she spent straightening up and catching her balance, she saw the woman jump off the branch and gracefully land on the cemetery ground.

She landed crouched. It was an eye-catching pose, but also one that would put unnecessary stress on her shins. She was showing off.

The stranger straightened up, met Mikasa's eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna do this?" she asked,

Mikasa jumped down, landing on the balls of her feet.

"Fine," the woman grumbled. "Guess I can spare a few minutes."

Mikasa stiffened, one hand reaching toward her bag, and kept her eyes glued on her opponent. Said opponent put a hand on her hip and scoffed.

"Waiting for me to make the first move?" she asked. "I told you, I'm not looking for a fight tonight. You wanna do this, it's on you."

Mikasa grit her teeth, but complied. She lunged at her opponent's left, only to switch and throw a punch at the right side of her face at the last second.

The feint didn't matter. The woman just stepped backward, far swifter than Mikasa had expected - possibly, she faintly realized, faster than she could keep up with.

"Fast," she taunted, "but not the fastest."

Mikasa leaned forward and swung a leg out. Her foot clipped the side of the woman's leg, but she wasn't fast enough to keep her from dodging most of the blow with a clumsy jump.

She did, however, get her face to morph into the lumpy, fanged, snarling visage of a vampire.

Mikasa drew back several steps, shrugged her bag off to dangle from the crook of her elbow, unzipped it, and pulled out her stake, all in no more than three seconds. As she did, the vampire paused.

"Oh, no," she said. "I'll let you know when I'm ready for a deathmatch, thanks."

This time, when Mikasa lunged forward, so did the vampire. Mikasa aimed for her chest, aim true and stake primed to plunge into her heart. But when the wooden tip was only centimeters away, the vampire shoved at Mikasa's shoulder while veering sharply to the side. Mikasa heard and felt her stake sinking into flesh, but knew without looking that she had missed the heart. She couldn't look, for it was a blow driven by pure momentum, the force of the shove having lifted her off her feet and sent her flying. She could only be grateful that she didn't hit a gravestone when she slammed against the ground.

Her second time knocked off her feet in as many nights. Once again, her head began to ring, be it from the new impact or agitating what might have been a lingering concussion. The echo of pain emanating from her ankle was definitely leftover from the night before. This time, however, she didn't hesitate or allow either of them to overcome her.

She scrambled to her feet as soon as physically possible. As she did so she heard the vampire indignantly mutter from several feet away, "aw, fuck. That shirt was a gift."

The vampire. Vampires weren't strong enough to do that; not the ones she would usually find wandering graveyards and stake on a patrol. That meant that this one had to be old. Old and powerful, and too big of a threat to be left alone.

The sort of vampire that would have no problem picking off college students and hiding their bodies.

Mikasa got to her feet just in time to see the vampire yank her stake out from where it was wedged in her shoulder. She winced, but most of her attention seemed to be on her shirt - and the significantly sized bloodstain slowly spreading through it.

"When were you turned?" Mikasa demanded.

"About five or six years ago," the vampire mumbled. She didn't even bother looking at Mikasa, instead tugging at the edge of her shirt with the hand that was still gripping her stake while poking at it with her pointer finger.

For a few seconds, Mikasa could only stare at the vampire with wide, disbelieving eyes. When she found her voice, it was to sputter, "that's-"

"What can I say, some vampires are stronger than others." The vampire finally let go of her shirt and looked at Mikasa. Her face split into a shark-like grin, an action that was closely followed by a laugh. "Or maybe I'm just special."

The vampire tossed Mikasa the stake, which she caught on reflex. She didn't dare look away from her, but the sticky warmth coating the lower half of the stake told her what she would see if she looked. Blood, where if Mikasa had been a little better, or maybe just had a better idea of what she was dealing with, it would be covered in ash.

"I'm Ymir, by the way," the vampire remarked.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "I didn't ask." If this vampire was as young as she said, then knowing her name probably wouldn't help anything. Not that it mattered. Even if she had to figure it out by herself, she didn't plan on this vampire being around for much longer. She couldn't be allowed to kill anyone else.

"Well, I wanted you to know," Ymir said. She took a step back and offered Mikasa a lazy wave. From the arm that wasn't near the stake wound, Mikasa was almost pleased to note. "See you around, slayer. I'll let you know if I decide I want a deathmatch with you after all." The vampire began to turn around, only to pause and offer Mikasa one last mocking grin. "Oh, or the other one. It'd be rude not to keep both slayers in the loop."

With that, she turned around and ran. Mikasa took off after her, but was quickly outpaced. Before she knew it, Ymir had disappeared into the distance, leaving Mikasa standing at the edge of the graveyard with nothing to show but anger, frustration, and more questions than she could begin to know what to do with.

***

Annie was almost electric with anger. It wasn't quite enough to breach her composed surface, but she could feel it, pulsating just beneath her skin.

Reiner was smart enough that he wavered at the look Annie gave him when he first told her what he'd done. However, that flash of fear hadn't lasted. Now that they were approaching the library, the bastard even had the gall to look entirely unrepentant.

"They'll probably end up killed, now that you've dragged them into this," Annie whispered, thinking of the three dipshits Reiner had deemed worth dragging them into this situation.

Reiner shrugged. "Eventually, maybe."

"So why did you save them?"

"I like them," he said, like that answered everything.

Annie shot him an annoyed look.

"They're fun," he elaborated. "Or at least…" He gave a snort of laughter. "Connie and Sasha are fun; Jean's just entertaining in general. Even if something gets them later on, they're worth keeping around for a while longer."

"Implying that you aren't going to 'get them'," Annie muttered.

Reiner shrugged again. "Like I said, I like them."

Again, he said it like that was all that mattered. Maybe it was. Apparently, it didn't matter if someone was a good person, or if they had a good life ahead of them, or if there were people who would miss them. Whether someone's life was worth saving, or even just sparing from his killing spree, was determined solely by whether or not he liked them.

Annie stared at her companion for several long seconds before she broke and looked away.

The rest of the walk to the library was spent in silence.

They both hesitated when they reached the door. For the first time since breaking the news to her, Reiner looked doubtful.

Perhaps that, combined with her anger at him, was why she opened the door and strode in like she owned the place.

She immediately knew where she was supposed to go. From the entryway, she could just make out a motley assortment of people gathered around a table tucked into the corner. She had known to expect them, but that didn't make seeing them together any less strange. Sasha Braus and Connie Springer were there, both of whom she recognized from the art class Bertolt had encouraged her to try in an attempt to have some "fun" during the mission. Jean Kirstein also shared that course with her, although based on how much they bickered with each other, she doubted that he was actually friends with either of the buffoons. Finally, there was Erwin Smith. Her English professor.

The watcher.

Annie didn't let herself hesitate beyond the moment it took to spot the group. Perverse though it was, if she wanted to avoid being suspicious, she had to keep going. Reiner's footsteps, surprisingly quiet for those who didn't know his true nature, informed her that she wasn't the only one.

Good. If he was going to get her into this mess, the least he could do was help her see it through.

She could tell the exact moment that the watcher noticed her. It wasn't in how he straightened up or even how he looked her way; the other three all did something similar as she approached and she didn't see anything special in those reactions. Smith's tell was in how his eyes gleamed, bright and warm, but with an unyielding sharpness hidden beneath.

That gleam told her that she would have to step carefully. That this man was dangerous.

"Miss Leonhardt," he said, rising from his seat when she reached the table. "It is a pleasure to meet you properly." He extended his hand. Annie forced herself to reach out and shake it without hesitation.

"Likewise," she murmured.

"Your other friend wasn't able to make it?" he inquired. His eyes were bright with curiosity as he asked, but nothing more dangerous. Not that she could see, anyway. She could be wrong. Even if she wasn't, simple curiosity was dangerous enough. One small misstep could see it turning into something more threatening.

"Bertolt takes online classes," Reiner said as he walked by, before she had a chance to say anything. "He works most of the time during the day. Kinda sucks, but it pays the bills." He pulled up a chair beside his pets and sat down in a leisurely sprawl, like this whole ruse was no real stress to him. She supposed she should be happy about it right now.

"I see," Smith said, shifting his gaze toward Reiner. "Well, I would love to meet him sometime."

Reiner shrugged. "We can probably make it happen."

Annie forced herself not to react, not to frown or glare or feel like Reiner was throwing Bertolt under a bus. He wasn't; they'd all trained for this. Even without the gem of amara, it would take more than one meeting with a watcher to figure Bertolt out.

Smith turned his attention back to Annie, reams of questions dancing in his eyes. However, another voice piped up before he could ask any of them.

"So, Annie's the - er, wait - a slayer?"

Annie frowned at Sasha. She wasn't the only one; Connie groaned while Jean shook his head and Reiner raised an eyebrow at her.

"I already told you that," Reiner pointed out.

"I know, " Sasha defended. "But it's one thing to hear it and another totally to see that it's actually Annie. Like, Annie Leonhardt Annie."

"Did you think it was a different Annie?" Connie asked.

"No, but like... we know her."

"We know Mikasa, too."

"We do ." Sasha leaned back in her chair, balancing it on its back two legs as she looked up at the ceiling and groaned. "God, this is so weird. Demons are a thing and vampires are a thing and slayers are a thing and we know both of them ."

"I mean, it makes sense that Mikasa and Annie would be slayers," Connie said. He looked over at Annie as he added, "you're both kinda... intense. The same brand of intense, sorta."

"And you're both idiots," Jean grumbled.

Connie shot him a grin. "You're just upset that you have to share the secret with us and not Marco," he said.

Jean scowled. "Of course I am," he snapped. "Marco actually has a few brain cells to his name."

The conversation devolved into bickering from there. Annie tuned it out, instead keeping her gaze glued to Smith as she followed him back to the table and took a seat. He seemed fondly exasperated, like he was watching a group of bickering toddlers rather than the college students he apparently planned on teaching about the supernatural. But that was toward them. Toward her, he seemed not quite trusting, but not actively suspicious either.

Good. She hadn't managed to fuck it up within the first five minutes.

As Smith himself took a seat, Annie allowed her gaze to drift over to Reiner. He still looked perfectly comfortable, now with a bright grin adorning his face as he watched Jean and Connie bicker. Of course. Connie was fun and Jean was entertaining.

Annie wanted to close her eyes, to let herself drift off and away from this place. But she couldn't do that. So instead, she did the next best thing - she changed the subject.

"Where's Mikasa?" she asked, looking back at Smith.

The watcher frowned. "I'm sure she'll be here soo-"

He was interrupted by the sound of the library door opening; the devil herself come to prove him right. Or maybe she was the angel in this metaphor. Annie certainly couldn't picture herself as anything but a devil, given the circumstances.

Mikasa looked exhausted. Not horrible, not quite, but close. Close enough that it had to be costing her. There were dark rings under her eyes and she was visibly favoring the foot that she had injured the night Annie saved her. Her eyes, while still bright with the sort of obsessive determination that drove someone to patrol even when they were at their limit, also flickered with shadows.

She wasn't alone.

"Armin," Annie called, part greeting, part observation. She didn't bother hiding the surprise that crept into her voice or keeping her eyes from widening. From what she'd seen, Mikasa was enough of a loner that she figured anyone would be surprised to see her bring someone with her, especially with how insistent she seemed to be about slayers keeping their nature secret. Even if that someone already knew about her.

At least, those were her feelings. A quick glance around the table revealed that no one else seemed caught off guard - like they'd known to expect an extra person.

Annie narrowed her eyes at Reiner, who just shrugged.

"Armin," Annie returned, a slight smile touching his lips. "It's nice to see you."

"You know each other?" Smith asked.

"We study together," Armin said.

"Interesting." Smith cast a long look around the table, then turned his attention back to Armin. "Do you know Jean, Connie, and Sasha as well?"

"Yes," Armin said. "We've met. I think - I think everyone here knows each other in one way or another."

Smith nodded. "That'll make this easier, then."

Annie caught a hint of doubt flash across Mikasa's face as she walked past her to take a seat. One chair down from her, specifically. Armin sat down between them, probably prepared to play intermediary between two surly women.

Smart. Unfortunately, if the plan was going to be a success, she needed to get Mikasa to trust her enough that she didn't need an intermediary.

Mikasa barely spared Annie a glance. Her gaze was all but glued to Jean, Sasha, and Connie. "What has Erwin told you?" she asked.

"A lot," Connie said, while Sasha let out a tiny groan and dropped her head back.

"He told us what the slayer is," Jean said. "A girl with super-strength, chosen by the ‘powers that be’ to defend humanity against vampires, demons, and the ‘forces of darkness’." Although his words were outwardly respectful, there was an unmissable hint of disdain, like he was still expecting to be told that this was all some big joke. It was annoying, but probably a better coping mechanism than breaking down outright. "Everything, basically," he finished.

"He can't have told you everything," Mikasa said, tone sharp. "There hasn't been enough time."

"Mikasa is correct," Smith said. He offered Jean a placating smile. "I'm afraid what I've told you so far are only the basics. It will take far longer to get you caught up completely."

Sasha let out another, louder groan while Connie gave a dismayed squawk. Jean frowned, but like Armin, Annie thought that she caught a flicker of interest on his face.

"For now," Smith continued, "I would like to get everyone on the same page." Annie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the watcher turned his attention toward her. "Annie, am I correct in assuming that you have never had a watcher?"

"You are," Annie said.

"I see." As he spoke, there was a shift to the gleam in his eyes, something sharper than curiosity coming into play. Doubt. Suspicion. She was going to have to step carefully now, and apparently, she was going to have to do it in front of everyone.

Fine. All the better to make them think that she had nothing to hide.

"If you don't mind me asking," Smith continued, "without a watcher, what made you suspect that you're the slayer?"

They were waiting for me to be called.

"Things started coming after me," Annie said. "I've always taken martial arts, but I was suddenly a lot stronger. And they started calling me the slayer." She shrugged. "You can test me if you want. I'm the real deal."

"You seem very certain," Smith said, an unexpected hint of appreciation in his voice. "So your local demonic community told you that you're the slayer; how did you find out exactly what a slayer is ?"

"Google," Reiner said.

Smith paused, a frown creeping across his face. "Google," he repeated.

"Google," Reiner confirmed.

"It was the same for me," Mikasa interjected, a faintly pensive expression drifting across her face. "It wasn't easy to find, but the information's there. And once I found something that matched what was happening to me..."

"I tried looking stuff up last night!" Sasha piped up, grinning. "I didn’t get really far; 'vampires' was kinda broad, and demons, well..." Her grin faded into something caught between a frown and a grimace. "It gets weird on the internet," she summarized. "But I tried!"

"Congrats on your freaky porn," Connie remarked.

The effect was instantaneous. While Annie resisted the urged to roll her eyes, Jean scowled and scooted his chair away from Sasha, Armin turned red and looked down at his lap, Mikasa gave Sasha a look that was caught between disapproval and judgmental, and Reiner fell short of holding back a snicker.

"I didn't say it was porn!" Sasha cried.

"But you did say it was the internet," Reiner pointed out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"We're getting off-topic," Smith patiently pointed out.

"Thank you," Annie muttered.

"Reiner," Smith began, "you said that you and your friend have been with Annie since the beginning?"

"Yeah," Reiner said, his expression drifting back into something more serious. "She came to us when she got her power-up and we helped her figure out what was happening. And after that..." He shrugged. "We weren't going to let her deal with that stuff alone. "

Smith nodded slowly. "That's very brave of you," he murmured.

He said 'brave', but a faint flicker in his eyes and something tucked into the cadence of his voice made her suspect that he meant something else, or at least that there was more to his feelings than what he expressed.

Annie frowned and tucked the observation aside to examine later, but opted to leave it alone for the time being. Whatever he was thinking, she didn't get the sense that it was dangerous to her. The watcher was free to think and feel whatever he wanted as long as it stayed that way.

"Now, I understand that this may be a difficult question to answer, but I'm afraid that I do need to ask." Smith paused for a moment, probably to make sure that they were all listening. Dramatic. " Do you know when you were called?"

"About three years ago," Annie said.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Mikasa stiffen.

"Can you get a little more specific?" Smith asked.

Of course. I could tell you the exact day, if I wanted.

"I think it was probably sometime in June," Annie said. "But that's the best I can do."

"And when you say three years ago, you mean June of 2018?"

"Yes."

They lapsed into silence, a thoughtful look descending over Smith's face. It didn't hold any sort of blatant warning signs. However, Annie was frustrated to find that she didn't have any idea what he was thinking beyond that. Each second that passed by without him saying anything felt like a nail scratching across her skin and trying to worm beneath. The difference was that no one would have blamed her if she had reacted to something like that, but she couldn't risk letting her impatience surface here.

The relief that washed over her when Smith started speaking again was almost physical.

"You're definitely experienced, but there are bound to be large gaps in your education," he said. He almost sounded more like he was musing to himself rather than speaking to anyone in the room. "We could all do with some backup as well." The watcher paused to give all of them a once-over. "I'm going to call a couple friends of mine and ask if they will join us."

"Watchers?" Mikasa asked. Her cool voice held a hint of unexpected tightness, and when Annie looked at her, she saw that her eyes had gone hard. Annie couldn't help but blink at the sight. Their previous interactions had left her with the impression that Mikasa was firmly in the council's pocket, just like a good slayer should be. But looking at her now...

"One of them is a watcher," Smith admitted. "The other is more along the lines of a free agent."

"But it would be the council sending them," Mikasa stressed, seemingly heedless of how Annie couldn't help but stare at her.

"No," Smith said. "If they come, it will be as a favor to me. Hanji often works independently from the council, and Levi..." He paused, a slight smile twitching across his lips. "Levi would be upset if he heard someone thinks he works with the council, let alone for them."

Mikasa's frown was threatening to turn into a scowl. It was an understated shift of her features, but Annie was watching closely enough to catch it. Apparently, she wasn't the only one.

"But he'll work with you?" Armin asked, caution and curiosity intermingling in his voice.

"We have a history," Smith said.

Armin nodded. Then, carefully, he turned to Mikasa. "Some more experienced help would be a good thing right now," he gently pointed out. "Especially with recent events."

Mikasa hesitated for a moment. It ended with her turning her gaze to Annie. Consequently, the hesitation shifted over to her, not quite ready to believe what was happening. Mikasa Ackerman didn't strike her as a particularly considerate person; did she really want her opinion on the matter? Slayer or not, they barely knew each other. Her opinion should mean nothing to her.

Except apparently it didn't. When the silence dragged on for too long, Mikasa prompted, "Annie?"

Annie shrugged, doing her best to put on the disinterested look of someone who was barely affected. "I'm alright with it," she said.

Because it would be suspicious if she wasn't. She wasn't allowed to care that she, Bertolt, and Reiner would have to spend hours talking and planning before the newcomers even arrived. Maintaining the ruse took priority over things like comfort and rest.

Mikasa nodded. When she turned back to Smith, her gaze was still hard, but it was a different kind of hardness now. It was the stony glint of someone on a mission rather than someone with a grudge. "You should tell them about the disappearances," she said. "And that I think I know who's behind them."

Everyone, Smith included, startled at that, which gave Annie and Reiner the opportunity to shoot each other a short, bewildered glance.

"You do," Smith said, voice impressively composed for all of its urgency.

"A vampire named Ymir," Mikasa confirmed. "She calls herself the biggest fish in the pond, and she's - strong. Stronger than she should be."

Annie and Reiner gave each other another look - unreadable, for that was all they could afford right now. One that promised that they would talk about this later. Annie had no idea who this Ymir was, but by the sound of it, she might make for a good scapegoat - at least for a while.

She just had to make sure that Reiner didn't take Mikasa's suspicions as an excuse to do whatever he liked.

Smith's expression had turned into something grave by the time Annie looked back at him. "We should discuss this later," he said. She didn't need to know him well to know that his tone suggested that it would be a detailed conversation.

"Fine," Mikasa said. With that, she glanced at her wristwatch - although glanced was a generous term for it. It was the very shortest of looks, just to confirm something that she already knew. Annie was struck by a sudden understanding; Ackerman hadn't been looking forward to this meeting, so she had arrived late when she knew that she would have to leave before long.

"I need to get going to history," Mikasa said, all but confirming her theory.

Smart, for a girl who wouldn't even take a night off to make sure that her exhaustion didn't get her killed.

Sasha groaned. "I don't suppose this is important enough to warrant a note?" she asked, shooting Smith a hopeful look.

The watcher smiled. "I'm afraid that you and Mister Springer should get going as well."

That got a groan from both of the dumbasses. Nonetheless, they began gathering their stuff together. Armin and Jean also murmured something and started getting ready to leave. Whatever they said, Annie didn't catch it. Her attention was on Mikasa, who was doing her level best to look like she wasn't dead on her feet. It was an imperfect performance, which only highlighted how bad it must be, for Annie was confident that she was practiced in putting on such acts.

She was probably planning on going patrolling again tonight. If she had gone out last night despite the state she'd been in when they met - which she must have, given her current condition - then this wouldn't be enough to stop her.

A look Smith shot Annie told her that she wasn't free to go quite yet. Of course not. The watcher had probably only just gotten started on the mountain of questions he had for them; she and Reiner were going to have to make good use of the backstories they'd fabricated. Even so, when Mikasa began to walk away ahead of everyone else, Annie met Smith's gaze and said, "I'll be right back."

She didn't wait for a response. Annie turned around and swept off after Mikasa; despite the height difference, she was able to catch up to other slayer in a few seconds.

"Let me patrol for you," Annie said, voice low but firm.

Mikasa stopped walking. "What?" she said.

"You're exhausted," Annie pointed out. "You'll get hurt again if you go out tonight."

Mikasa pursed her lips, whispers of pride and defensiveness playing across her features. Annie made sure to keep talking before any of them could override her common sense.

"Your grades have to be slipping too." She didn't pause, but the faint thrill of triumph that ran through her as Mikasa's features shifted ever so slightly made it easier for her to continue on. "That's an extra distraction. Rest, catch up on your assignments, and let me patrol for you for a few nights. Then you can be useful when you return."

Annie was making sense. She knew she was making sense - she'd spent much of the night thinking about and refining the offer, back when she'd assumed that the other slayer would have at least had the sense to take the previous night off. The deal was made that much sweeter by how much she had worn herself down. And yet, be it because of some heroic sense of dedication or just plain obsession, Mikasa hesitated.

"Two slayers are better than one, but there's no point if you keep pretending that you're the only one," Annie pointed out.

Mikasa sighed, shoulders drooping ever so slightly. It was at that instant that Annie knew she'd won.

"Alright," Mikasa acquiesced.

Annie nodded. "Alright."

With that, she walked back to the table and whatever quasi-interrogation Smith had planned for her.

Reiner shot her an approving look as she sat down. Annie tried to ignore it.

She failed, and her stomach twisted.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhardt #erwin smith #jean kirstein #sasha braus #connie springer #ymir #ymir snk #reiner braun #snk #snk fic #attack on titan #my fic #my writing #the call

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museflight · 3 years

Text

The Call (3)

Chapter Title: Secret

Wordcount: 8.2k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Between civilians learning about the supernatural and a new player introducing herself, Mikasa has a hard day. And Annie lies. A lot.

Smith: Meet me in my office

**Smith: **It’s urgent

Mina hadn't returned to class that day.

She wasn't certain how he had convinced the administration to allow him to paint the walls pink.

The whole thing was perfectly laid out in her mind. Perhaps that was why she didn't bother knocking when she reached Erwin's office; she thought she knew what to expect.

She _ didn't _ expect to open the door and find four people crowded around Erwin's desk, one of them holding a red-stained cloth to his neck.

"Erwin," she croaked. "What's going on?"

"Mikasa," Erwin began, his expression steady and voice damningly even. Like his urgent matter hadn't just called her into an office full of civilians. Like it didn't look like something was happening that was very much _ not _supposed to happen. "There was an attack on campus today."

"A _ vampire _ attack," Jean muttered, the shell-shocked disbelief plain in his voice. Reiner gave him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder. Jean immediately winced and rubbed his free hand against the base of his neck, causing Reiner to withdraw with an apologetic look.

"I thought you might," Erwin said. "Most civilians don't walk around with stakes on them."

Reiner blinked. "I'm terrible at carpentry," he said.

"Really?" the bald guy asked. "You don't look it."

"Are we really having this conversation right now?" Jean whispered.

"No," Mikasa cut in.

But if Erwin had called her in to talk about the vampire, why did it sound like Reiner had already killed it? And why did he call her in while everyone else was still there?

"So you _ don't _ think a demon is behind them?" Mikasa challenged. At the same time, the girl with the ponytail piped back up to ask, "wait - so Franz and Hannah and all them; a _ vampire _ was behind all those?"

Erwin frowned. In the seconds that he took to compose his reply, Jean grumbled, "I thought they were talking about demons."

"Vampires are demons," Reiner chimed in. "It's just that not all demons are vampires."

"We don't know that," Erwin finally said. Meeting Mikasa's gaze with his own, he said, "I'm not saying that it _ isn't _ a demon responsible for this. However, most demons leave some form of remains behind and don't bother hiding them well, let alone this thoroughly. We cannot afford to dismiss the possibility that there is a human behind this."

"Yeah," the bald guy piped up. "That guy tried to take a chunk out of Jean's neck, but I mean, have you met Jean? I can't say I'd blame-"

"Shut up, Connie," Jean grumbled.

Reiner tried to hide a laugh with a cough into his fist. Jean raised his head and lowered his hand to shoot him a glare. Meanwhile, Erwin offered a small, sad smile.

"It is possible," the watcher said. "But at this point, it would be best not to get your hopes up."

"Yeah," the ponytailed girl murmured. "Take a look around; it's been starting to feel like an episode of _ Frontline _ around here."

"Don't be silly, Sasha," Connie chided, his already shaky voice sounding that much more agitated. "There are no vampires in _ Frontline_."

A thoughtful look flickered across Erwin's face. "Actually-"

Mikasa felt something inside of her snap. "So you aren't ready to commit to it being a demon," she said, voice cold as the arctic. "Fine. You still haven't told me _ why I'm here _."

Erwin's expression shifted, but it was too fast and undefined for her to stand a chance at telling exactly how. That was fine. She didn't particularly care at the moment.

Unthinkingly, Mikasa's gaze drifted to Reiner, and his eyes met hers.

There was a moment of silence in which one could hear a pin drop.

Unfortunately, Erwin was good at reading things like that. "Is there something I should know?" he asked.

Mikasa and Reiner maintained eye contact for a long moment, him frowning while her expression remained stuck in one of neutrality, unsure of what to think and feel. She had known that the existence of a second slayer was something that she should come to her watcher with. It had simply been too easy _ not _to with everything else that was clogging up her mind. But now the subject had resurfaced, and she found herself unsure of what course of action should be taken.

That was damage wrought by inaction. And unfortunately, with how long that inaction had persisted, she did not yet have any true way to gauge what harm they may do when they were actually involved.

With everything so unsure, what right did she have to hand Annie over to them?

Perhaps it was a good thing that it had come up while one of Annie's friends was around. That meant that it ultimately wasn't her call to make.

Mikasa couldn't help but feel a burst of selfish relief when Reiner finally turned his gaze toward Erwin, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"My friend Bertolt also knows," Reiner hesitantly admitted. "Because our friend, Annie, is also a slayer."

Erwin _ froze_. His normally composed facade fractured just enough for a hint of shock to bleed through. Mikasa may have enjoyed it were it not for how his sharp eyes immediately sought her out. It seemed that her apparent familiarity with Reiner had made him dismiss the possibility that his words were as much news to her as him; that look was commanding her to _ talk_.

She tried to brush the suffocating feeling off with a shrug. When that failed, she added, "I didn't think it was important."

"It is," Erwin said.

"Yeah," Mikasa murmured. "I can see that."

That horrible silence returned. Or at least, it tried to. Sasha interrupted it by taking a step forward and stammering out, "So, I- uh- I know that this might be a bad time, but. What's a slayer?"

Erwin cast Mikasa a long look. Then, slowly, he said, "I think it might be better to discuss this with _ all _of us here." Turning his attention to Reiner, he asked, "do you think your friends would be willing to meet with us tomorrow morning? Say, in the library, at nine o'clock?"

"There's an _ us _ now, huh?" Jean murmured. His expression was lost and distant, save for the hint of sadness that flickered across his features when he glanced at Mikasa every few seconds.

Meanwhile, Reiner slowly nodded. "Yeah. Bertolt might have work, but Annie- I can't promise she'll be happy, but yeah, I think I can swing it."

"Good," Erwin said. "Mikasa-"

The council had done nothing to earn her trust, but she could admit that Erwin possessed a decent amount of expertise on certain matters. Enough so that his opinion may be worth considering here

Erwin blinked. "Of course," he said. "It's safest _ not _ to know, but where that fails, there's safety in numbers."

"I'm going to tell Marco, then," Jean said, voice steadier than it had been throughout the rest of the conversation

"I strongly advise against it," Erwin cautioned. "It may be hard to believe, but it _ is _safest not to know about these things. Once you are aware, the odds of you being targeted by a vampire or demon increase exponentially. After what happened earlier, it would be irresponsible for me not to teach you how to defend yourself, but believe me when I say that your friend is better off not knowing."

With that, she turned around and swept out of the room - and away from all of the pitying looks.

She had to patrol.

The sun had long since sunken over the horizon by the time she was able to head out on patrol. She couldn't help but be irritated by the time lost despite knowing that it probably wouldn't make any difference. Most demons, especially vampires, weren't truly active until two or three hours after nightfall. The meeting may have eaten up a chunk of her time, but it hadn't taken _ that _ long. It was most likely that she hadn't missed anything at all.

Most likely. What about the times when unlikely things happened? If there _ had _ been something out there and she had missed it...

The graveyard _ seemed _ empty aside from herself; not even Eren was there to accompany her. That was good. She _ wanted _space after what Erwin had dropped on her. However, there was something about the emptiness that set her on edge, the creeping feeling that she was wrong, that she had to be missing something. It almost made her wish that-

"Well," a bright, mocking voice reached down from above. "If it isn't the slayer. Sun set... oof, over an hour ago, but hey. Don't rush on my account."

Mikasa turned around, stepped back, and looked up. There was an old oak tree not five feet away from where she was standing. Its branches were wide and sprawling. Sitting with her feet dangling over the edge of one of the thickest ones, dangerously close to directly over her, was a woman. She thought she saw brown hair and freckles, but it was difficult to make out between the low light of the evening and the additional shade of the tree. The thing that _ really _stood out was her grin, wide and jeering. Like someone laughing at a joke that they hadn't yet seen fit to let anyone else in on.

In a situation like this, odds were that _ she _was the joke.

"Mmm, no," the woman said. "I don't feel like fighting tonight. Besides, you should be happy to get a break."

_ That _ made Mikasa pause, but not for a good reason. She felt every muscle in her body tense as her gaze jerked back to the woman. "Why is that?" she asked.

"Why else?" the stranger asked. "Paradis is a small pond, and I'm the biggest fish."

The biggest fish.

With recent events, what would being the biggest fish entail?

As far as Mikasa was concerned, it was as good as a confession.

She landed crouched. It was an eye-catching pose, but also one that would put unnecessary stress on her shins. She was showing off.

The stranger straightened up, met Mikasa's eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna do this?" she asked,

Mikasa jumped down, landing on the balls of her feet.

"Fine," the woman grumbled. "Guess I can spare a few minutes."

Mikasa stiffened, one hand reaching toward her bag, and kept her eyes glued on her opponent. Said opponent put a hand on her hip and scoffed.

"Waiting for me to make the first move?" she asked. "I told you, I'm not looking for a fight tonight. You wanna do this, it's on you."

Mikasa grit her teeth, but complied. She lunged at her opponent's left, only to switch and throw a punch at the right side of her face at the last second.

The feint didn't matter. The woman just stepped backward, far swifter than Mikasa had expected - possibly, she faintly realized, faster than she could keep up with.

"Fast," she taunted, "but not the fastest."

Mikasa leaned forward and swung a leg out. Her foot clipped the side of the woman's leg, but she wasn't fast enough to keep her from dodging most of the blow with a clumsy jump.

She _ did_, however, get her face to morph into the lumpy, fanged, snarling visage of a vampire.

Mikasa drew back several steps, shrugged her bag off to dangle from the crook of her elbow, unzipped it, and pulled out her stake, all in no more than three seconds. As she did, the vampire paused.

"Oh, no," she said. "I'll let you know when I'm ready for a deathmatch, thanks."

This time, when Mikasa lunged forward, so did the vampire. Mikasa aimed for her chest, aim true and stake primed to plunge into her heart. But when the wooden tip was only centimeters away, the vampire shoved at Mikasa's shoulder while veering sharply to the side. Mikasa heard and felt her stake sinking into flesh, but knew without looking that she had missed the heart. She _ couldn't _look, for it was a blow driven by pure momentum, the force of the shove having lifted her off her feet and sent her flying. She could only be grateful that she didn't hit a gravestone when she slammed against the ground.

She scrambled to her feet as soon as physically possible. As she did so she heard the vampire indignantly mutter from several feet away, "aw, fuck. That shirt was a _ gift." _

The vampire. Vampires weren't strong enough to _ do that_; not the ones she would usually find wandering graveyards and stake on a patrol. That meant that this one had to be _ old_. Old and powerful, and too big of a threat to be left alone.

The sort of vampire that would have no problem picking off college students and hiding their bodies.

"When were you turned?" Mikasa demanded.

For a few seconds, Mikasa could only stare at the vampire with wide, disbelieving eyes. When she found her voice, it was to sputter, "that's-"

"I'm Ymir, by the way," the vampire remarked.

"Well, I wanted you to know," Ymir said. She took a step back and offered Mikasa a lazy wave. From the arm that _ wasn't _near the stake wound, Mikasa was almost pleased to note. "See you around, slayer. I'll let you know if I decide I want a deathmatch with you after all." The vampire began to turn around, only to pause and offer Mikasa one last mocking grin. "Oh, or the other one. It'd be rude not to keep both slayers in the loop."

Annie was almost _ electric _ with anger. It wasn't quite enough to breach her composed surface, but she could feel it, pulsating just beneath her skin.

"They'll probably end up killed, now that you've dragged them into this," Annie whispered, thinking of the three dipshits Reiner had deemed worth dragging them into this situation.

Reiner shrugged. "Eventually, maybe."

"So why did you save them?"

"I like them," he said, like that answered everything.

Annie shot him an annoyed look.

"Implying that you aren't going to 'get them'," Annie muttered.

Reiner shrugged again. "Like I said, I like them."

Annie stared at her companion for several long seconds before she broke and looked away.

The rest of the walk to the library was spent in silence.

They both hesitated when they reached the door. For the first time since breaking the news to her, Reiner looked doubtful.

Perhaps that, combined with her anger at him, was why she opened the door and strode in like she owned the place.

The watcher.

Good. If he was going to get her into this mess, the least he could do was help her see it through.

She could tell the exact moment that the watcher noticed her. It wasn't in how he straightened up or even how he looked her way; the other three all did something similar as she approached and she didn't see anything special in those reactions. Smith's tell was in how his eyes _ gleamed_, bright and warm, but with an unyielding sharpness hidden beneath.

That gleam told her that she would have to step carefully. That this man was _ dangerous_.

"Likewise," she murmured.

"Your other friend wasn't able to make it?" he inquired. His eyes were bright with curiosity as he asked, but nothing more dangerous. Not that she could see, anyway. She could be wrong. Even if she _ wasn't_, simple curiosity was dangerous enough. One small misstep could see it turning into something more threatening.

"I see," Smith said, shifting his gaze toward Reiner. "Well, I would love to meet him sometime."

Reiner shrugged. "We can probably make it happen."

Smith turned his attention back to Annie, reams of questions dancing in his eyes. However, another voice piped up before he could ask any of them.

"So, Annie's the - er, wait - a slayer?"

Annie frowned at Sasha. She wasn't the only one; Connie groaned while Jean shook his head and Reiner raised an eyebrow at her.

"I already told you that," Reiner pointed out.

"I _ know, _ " Sasha defended. "But it's one thing to hear it and another totally to see that it's actually Annie. Like, _ Annie Leonhardt _ Annie."

"Did you think it was a _ different _ Annie?" Connie asked.

"No, but like... we _ know _ her."

"We know Mikasa, too."

"We _ do _ ." Sasha leaned back in her chair, balancing it on its back two legs as she looked up at the ceiling and groaned. "God, this is so _ weird_. Demons are a thing and vampires are a thing and slayers are a thing and we know _ both of them _."

"I mean, it makes sense that Mikasa and Annie would be slayers," Connie said. He looked over at Annie as he added, "you're both kinda... intense. The same brand of intense, sorta."

"And you're both idiots," Jean grumbled.

Connie shot him a grin. "You're just upset that you have to share the secret with us and not Marco," he said.

Jean scowled. "Of course I am," he snapped. "Marco actually has a few brain cells to his name."

Good. She hadn't managed to fuck it up within the first five minutes.

Annie wanted to close her eyes, to let herself drift off and away from this place. But she couldn't do that. So instead, she did the next best thing - she changed the subject.

"Where's Mikasa?" she asked, looking back at Smith.

The watcher frowned. "I'm sure she'll be here soo-"

Mikasa looked exhausted. Not _ horrible, _ not quite, but close. Close enough that it had to be costing her. There were dark rings under her eyes and she was visibly favoring the foot that she had injured the night Annie saved her. Her eyes, while still bright with the sort of obsessive determination that drove someone to patrol even when they were at their limit, also flickered with shadows.

She wasn't alone.

"Armin," Annie called, part greeting, part observation. She didn't bother hiding the surprise that crept into her voice or keeping her eyes from widening. From what she'd seen, Mikasa was enough of a loner that she figured _ anyone _would be surprised to see her bring someone with her, especially with how insistent she seemed to be about slayers keeping their nature secret. Even if that someone already knew about her.

At least, those were her feelings. A quick glance around the table revealed that no one else seemed caught off guard - like they'd known to expect an extra person.

Annie narrowed her eyes at Reiner, who just shrugged.

"Armin," Annie returned, a slight smile touching his lips. "It's nice to see you."

"You know each other?" Smith asked.

"We study together," Armin said.

"Interesting." Smith cast a long look around the table, then turned his attention back to Armin. "Do you know Jean, Connie, and Sasha as well?"

"Yes," Armin said. "We've met. I think - I think everyone here knows each other in one way or another."

Smith nodded. "That'll make this easier, then."

Smart. Unfortunately, if the plan was going to be a success, she needed to get Mikasa to trust her enough that she didn't _ need _ an intermediary.

Mikasa barely spared Annie a glance. Her gaze was all but glued to Jean, Sasha, and Connie. "What has Erwin told you?" she asked.

"A _ lot_," Connie said, while Sasha let out a tiny groan and dropped her head back.

"He can't have told you everything," Mikasa said, tone sharp. "There hasn't been enough time."

"Mikasa is correct," Smith said. He offered Jean a placating smile. "I'm afraid what I've told you so far are only the basics. It will take far longer to get you caught up completely."

Sasha let out another, louder groan while Connie gave a dismayed squawk. Jean frowned, but like Armin, Annie thought that she caught a flicker of interest on his face.

"For now," Smith continued, "I would like to get _ everyone _on the same page." Annie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the watcher turned his attention toward her. "Annie, am I correct in assuming that you have never had a watcher?"

"You are," Annie said.

"I see." As he spoke, there was a shift to the gleam in his eyes, something sharper than curiosity coming into play. Doubt. _ Suspicion. _She was going to have to step carefully now, and apparently, she was going to have to do it in front of everyone.

Fine. All the better to make them think that she had nothing to hide.

"If you don't mind me asking," Smith continued, "without a watcher, what made you suspect that you're the slayer?"

_ They were waiting for me to be called. _

"Google," Reiner said.

Smith paused, a frown creeping across his face. "Google," he repeated.

"Google," Reiner confirmed.

"I tried looking stuff up last night!" Sasha piped up, grinning. "I didn’t get really far; 'vampires' was kinda broad, and demons, well..." Her grin faded into something caught between a frown and a grimace. "It gets _ weird _ on the internet," she summarized. "But I tried!"

"Congrats on your freaky porn," Connie remarked.

"I didn't say it was porn!" Sasha cried.

"But you did say it was the _ internet_," Reiner pointed out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"We're getting off-topic," Smith patiently pointed out.

"Thank you," Annie muttered.

"Reiner," Smith began, "you said that you and your friend have been with Annie since the beginning?"

Smith nodded slowly. "That's very brave of you," he murmured.

He said _ 'brave_', but a faint flicker in his eyes and something tucked into the cadence of his voice made her suspect that he meant something else, or at least that there was more to his feelings than what he expressed.

"About three years ago," Annie said.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Mikasa stiffen.

"Can you get a little more specific?" Smith asked.

_ Of course. I could tell you the exact day, if I wanted. _

"I think it was probably sometime in June," Annie said. "But that's the best I can do."

"And when you say three years ago, you mean June of 2018?"

"Yes."

The relief that washed over her when Smith started speaking again was almost physical.

"One of them is a watcher," Smith admitted. "The other is more along the lines of a free agent."

"But it would be the council sending them," Mikasa stressed, seemingly heedless of how Annie couldn't help but stare at her.

Mikasa's frown was threatening to turn into a scowl. It was an understated shift of her features, but Annie was watching closely enough to catch it. Apparently, she wasn't the only one.

"But he'll work with you?" Armin asked, caution and curiosity intermingling in his voice.

"We have a history," Smith said.

Armin nodded. Then, carefully, he turned to Mikasa. "Some more experienced help would be a good thing right now," he gently pointed out. "Especially with recent events."

Except apparently it didn't. When the silence dragged on for too long, Mikasa prompted, "Annie?"

Annie shrugged, doing her best to put on the disinterested look of someone who was barely affected. "I'm alright with it," she said.

Everyone, Smith included, startled at that, which gave Annie and Reiner the opportunity to shoot each other a short, bewildered glance.

"You do," Smith said, voice impressively composed for all of its urgency.

"A vampire named Ymir," Mikasa confirmed. "She calls herself the biggest fish in the pond, and she's - strong. Stronger than she should be."

She just had to make sure that Reiner didn't take Mikasa's suspicions as an excuse to do whatever he liked.

"Fine," Mikasa said. With that, she glanced at her wristwatch - although _ glanced _ was a generous term for it. It was the very shortest of looks, just to confirm something that she already knew. Annie was struck by a sudden understanding; Ackerman hadn't been looking forward to this meeting, so she had arrived late when she knew that she would have to leave before long.

"I need to get going to history," Mikasa said, all but confirming her theory.

Smart, for a girl who wouldn't even take a night off to make sure that her exhaustion didn't get her killed.

Sasha groaned. "I don't suppose this is important enough to warrant a note?" she asked, shooting Smith a hopeful look.

The watcher smiled. "I'm afraid that you and Mister Springer should get going as well."

She didn't wait for a response. Annie turned around and swept off after Mikasa; despite the height difference, she was able to catch up to other slayer in a few seconds.

"Let me patrol for you," Annie said, voice low but firm.

Mikasa stopped walking. "What?" she said.

"You're exhausted," Annie pointed out. "You'll get hurt again if you go out tonight."

Mikasa pursed her lips, whispers of pride and defensiveness playing across her features. Annie made sure to keep talking before any of them could override her common sense.

Annie was making sense. She _ knew _ she was making sense - she'd spent much of the night thinking about and refining the offer, back when she'd assumed that the other slayer would have at least had the sense to take the previous night off. The deal was made that much sweeter by how much she had worn herself down. And yet, be it because of some heroic sense of dedication or just plain obsession, Mikasa hesitated.

"Two slayers are better than one, but there's no point if you keep pretending that you're the only one," Annie pointed out.

Mikasa sighed, shoulders drooping ever so slightly. It was at that instant that Annie knew she'd won.

"Alright," Mikasa acquiesced.

Annie nodded. "Alright."

With that, she walked back to the table and whatever quasi-interrogation Smith had planned for her.

Reiner shot her an approving look as she sat down. Annie tried to ignore it.

She failed, and her stomach twisted.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #erwin smith #reiner braun #jean kirstein #the call #snk #attack on titan

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psychopersonified · 4 years

Text

Interrupted

Q’s video conference gets interrupted by a half naked man wielding a cat...

Inspired by the multitude of wonderful fanart featuring Q and Bond in front of a computer, some clothed, some not quite 😉. And also by stories of zoom call accidents.

Tags: Freshly established relationship. Breaking the news.

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

“…How much progress are we making in regards to the drag coefficient?” is the next question on Q’s mind as he reviews the R&D stage-gate checklist. Q has his attention on the tablet in front of him, marking up the design drawing with a stylus. The image is shared onscreen with the other three participants of the call.

“Wind tunnel test results are back, the best we’ve achieved so far is using V308 design, but as expected it does come with some compromise to practicality—”

At R’s sudden pause, Q looks up and turns towards the screen displaying the participants’ video feed.

“Sorry R I didn’t catch that, you might have cut out for a moment.” He adjusts the wireless earbuds in case they’ve come loose.

Jenny’s image smiles widely and the others follow suit. “Sir, did you adopt a new kitty?”

The unexpected question prompts him to look around his desk. He spies Spot lounging out of view of the webcam, by his favourite window perch having just had breakfast. Q assumes the other black and white cat, Jellicles must be somewhere under Spot’s large orange lump.

“Uh, no?” he is a little discomfited, not knowing what brought on the bizarre tangent in the discussion.

“Boss, you sure about this? He’s a big one. Might eat you out of house and home,” Nish joins in the ribbing.

“Granted he’s a silent killer. Any unwanted gifts dropped off on your carpet yet?” Jamila this time.

“What on earth are you all talking about—,“ in his own video feed minimised out of the way on the bottom right corner, Q finally catches sight of movement in the background.

The problem with open plan living Q notices for the first time, is the lack of privacy. Not an issue if you’re living alone, but when you have house guests, it makes it trickier. Q’s webcam faces the dining area where Agent 007 is currently making a spectacle of himself. His shirtless muscular back is half turned to them. The light grey sweatpants he is wearing slung dangerously low on his hips - the tops of his well sculpted glutes artfully exposed.

Bond had wandered absently into the dining area, one arm cradling a restless black and white cat to his chest like a baby, but his attention is focused on the tablet held in his other hand. Jellicles is not happy at being ignored - headbutting Bond under the chin and attempting repeatedly to bop the human on the nose to get his attention.

When the agent is sufficiently annoyed, he locks eyes with the cat for a moment before tipping his head to smush his nose against cat’s forehead - which causes Jellicles to meow loudly in reply.

Q turns back to look at his monitor, all three participants on the call are staring in open-mouthed shock. He searches his desk for something to throw; a squishy stress toy in the shape of a cow would suffice. Q aims for the torso, but the toy bounces comically off Bond’s rock hard arse instead.

That catches Bond’s attention and he turns around - Q regrets not thinking this one through. He and his little audience are now treated to the frontal view, which is arguably even more distracting. The agent’s golden tan glows in the morning light - accentuating the definition of his well developed pectorals all the way to the rippling planes of the chiseled abdominals and the blonde trail of hair peeking out of the waistband. Further below, the soft cotton blend material of the sweatpants does little to hide the endowments underneath.

Bond raises a quizzical eyebrow at him. He’d put the tablet down and caught one of the cat’s paws in his hand in the interim - to stop it from trying to touch his nose and was kissing each little toe-bean before the interruption. Bond is in a fantastic mood this morning and Jellicles must adore him enough to allow such manhandling.

Q scowls at him and mouths ‘I’m on a call�� while using a hand to gesture at his monitor and the webcam. Bond’s expression turns apologetically wide-eyed for a second in acknowledgment of his little gaffe. But in the next moment, he appears to brush it off -hanged for a sheep as a lamb-.

Instead of ducking out of view, he takes four purposeful strides towards Q’s desk, the cat still in his arms. Q can’t decide if disabling his video would cause more suspicion or if they should just cease with the charade - somehow ‘he’s just a friend who sleeps over and cuddles my cats’ defence doesn’t quite stack up at this point.

Behind him now and without a trace of shame, Bond bends over a shoulder to wink at the three familiar faces in the monitor. Q resists the urge to slap the man away, opting instead to glower at him. The agent senses a rebuke forthcoming, so preemptively uses the cat as a shield. He holds the black and white cat up to the webcam, then pushes the cat in front of Q’s face - Jellicles doesn’t disappoint, immediately latching on and playfully chewing on Q’s nose.

“Ah! James!” Q tries to flinch away. The assault is over in seconds when Bond pulls the cat away but then unexpectedly returns to peck Q on the corner of his mouth before he can even protest. When Bond straightens again, the expansive view of naked chest and abs fills up most of the right side of Q’s video feed.

Q has to half turn and physically nudge the agent away with a splayed hand against warm hard muscle. The touch a searing reminder of their activities the night before. Bond is immovable when he doesn’t want to be moved, but he relents after a second or two. His parting gift, was to dip down and nuzzle Q in the hair, using the misdirection to hook a finger around the collar of Q’s jumper, exposing the top of a well bruised collarbone. The hand then slips to caress a long line down his chest to his stomach.

“James! Will you stop it!” Q hisses. His next reaction is to stab the bastard in the side with the blunt tip of the tablet stylus to salvage his ruined modesty. The man is a menace!

The bloody peacock doesn’t even have the decency to retreat out of camera view after that, instead he claims a seat in the dinning area, beaming with a satisfied smile. The cat now balanced on his stomach and chest, he moves another chair around so he can prop his legs on it and stretch out, putting himself on blatant display. An artist would beg to paint such a perfect tableau. Q wants to taser the smile off his face.

Q clears his throat, not daring to look directly at his colleagues - too flustered to offer an explanation as to why 007 was molesting him in his home. So he tries ineffectively for the pretend-it-didnt-happen route, “Um… Right. Where were we? Jenny, the wind tunnel results?....”

Jamila blinks furiously. Nish makes a hoarse croaking, “Whaaaa…..” like air escaping his lungs.

And R… well R just says, “Sir, I think I speak for everyone here that we’re traumatised by what we just saw, bloody traumatised. We don’t think we can continue with today’s discussion until a satisfactory explanation has been provided...” R forces Q into a corner. Two other heads nod their support for Jenny’s statement. None of them appear disapproving - but it is guaranteed they are going to take the mickey out of him.

There is no way he is going to spill tea with Bond still within earshot. The agent’s ego is unmanageable as it is. “If I promise to reveal all on Monday, can we please get on with this?” Q tries to make his whisper sound imperious to no avail - a half naked man lounging in the background tends to undermine one’s authority.

“Health & Safety would disagree. It’s an occupational hazard you know, to be distracted around dangerous lab equipment,” Jamila points out. The others agree. Mutiny from his top three.

“How is my personal life -your- distraction?”

“When there is a not inconsiderable pot waiting to be distributed. Come on boss, there’s still time for me to collect my winnings if things go my way,” Nish begs while consulting his phone for the records.

“So… he’s -James- now is he? Is this a one time slumber party or an extended sleepover?” R powers through heedless.

Q considers his answer, he is marginally aware of the betting pool around the stupid game ‘Fluster the Quartermaster’ and its various derivative odds regarding which agent, the timeline, where, method of burn etc. - but he doesn’t want to know the specifics as he wants to maintain plausible deniability should it implode in everyone’s faces.

Bond is still playing with he cat in the background, trying to teach it commands. Q doesn’t want to say it out loud, so he types it into the group chat on the side of the screen:

::We’re moving his things over later today.::

“Called it!” Jenny slams a hand on the table and punches the air in victory. Oh she knew it! Q taking the Friday off (or any day off for that matter) that had nothing to do with his cats was enough cause for intrigue.

But after the suspiciously expensive gift in the form of the red Hyundai a few months ago, it was just a matter of time. It was not the cost that was the issue, Bond’s wardrobe of bespoke suits probably cost more than the car several times over - it was the sentiment behind it that gave Jenny the courage to place a sizeable bet on them taking the next step towards cohabitation. The car, she read correctly in Bond’s weird wooing language was tantamount to an engagement ring.

Nish and the others weren’t as good as reading signs, so majority of the odds were still focused around the early stages “NO! What? Wait… When did this happen? What about first date? First snog? First shag?” Nish scrolls furiously through his phone.

The bets have taken a far more intrusive route than Q had ever expected. “Well I’m sorry my personal life does not follow the path of standard operating procedure… now can we -please- move on?” He’s acutely aware that he is blushing bright pink from head to toe.

Jenny shakes her head, the only person that would dare to override him, “Q, you took the day off - so take the day off. The prototype can wait. No emergencies at the moment, the castle is still standing. We’ll call if something pops up. Now bugger off and enjoy your day with -James-!”

*Sigh* Q rubs his temples and gives in reluctantly, “Fine! Yes, alright…” . He knows when something is a lost cause and the news is likely to cause a buzz in Q-Branch that would last the whole weekend - there goes department productivity. He’d hoped to come up with a less sensational way of disseminating the news. He expects massive ribbing on Monday.

“Oh! Permission to inform Ms Moneypenny about the change in status?” Jenny asks. The girls are having drinks tonight and it would be hell trying to conceal anything from Eve.

“No no! I’ll… inform her myself... and please try to keep this within Q-Branch, for now?” Eve would find seven ways of killing him if she had to find out from someone else. She’d already ripped into him, calling him a bloody clueless twit when she’d found out about the car Bond bought him as a ‘birthday gift’. As cars go, it was a cheap one - but Bond’s logic to get him to accept it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to him.

When they’ve all signed off, Q shuts down the computer and lets himself be drawn back into the life inside his flat. Balanced on Bond’s stomach, Jellicles has miraculously learned how to give high-fives on command.

“Get dressed please. I’d like breakfast before we head over to your place.” Q tell him as he passes behind the agent. He places a hand on James’ shoulder, causing the agent to tip his head back. Q drops a kiss on his forehead.

“By the way, have you told Eve about… this?” Q asks as he combs his fingernails across Bond’s scalp.

“Mmm… Not yet. Was thinking of letting her know on Monday.” Bond mutters, eyes closed. The relaxed blissed out look on his face was worth enduring a million papercuts.

“Well, that’ll be too late. Since you’ve gone and announced it with as much discretion as you conduct your missions…,” Q tugs firmly at Bond’s ears as reprimand, ”…the whole of Q-Branch will know before morning tea. Which means Eve will find out by lunch.”

Just then Q’s phone on the dinning table buzzes with an incoming call. They both pause to stare at the screen. Caller ID displays ::Moneypenny:: ominously.

“I’ll get dressed. You tell her… She called me a dithering halfwit just last week.” Bond straightens before bolting for the bedroom.

“Coward!” Q yells at him. He steels himself to answer the phone. When he does, he all but squeaks, “Hello Eve?—“

——— FIN————

Notes: The mention about the car gift is from another fic of mine and can be found here - Car troubles and Not Quite Dates.

If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Enjoy!

#00Q #ooQ #Q #Quartermaster #00qfic #00q fanfiction

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snow--blanket · 4 years

Text

the black bride

commissioned by @mineko811!

fandom: ikemen sengoku

characters: akechi mitsuhide

word count: 2016

*** Mitsuhide met the dead princess once, and then twice, and then never again.

Once, it was at the Azuchi marketplace, when dawn was long past gone and only the wolves had come calling. He met her at the end of a barrel. Her eyes were hooded like thieves in the night, her breath so steady if he had balanced a pea on the weapon itself, he was sure it would not move. In the darkness, he could see the slightest shine on her clothes, like the winter coats of the Western people.

“Name yourself.”

“I have only the name given to me, it seems.”

“I will be the one to see it in tomorrow's newspaper if you do not tell me.”

Mitsuhide cocked his head. “Then why bother asking at all?”

“Kindness.”

He eyed the terrain of the rifle, an unfamiliar model. “I see foreigners have different understandings of kindness.”

“And I see you have little understanding of orders.” She slowly inched closer, and he saw the stiffness in her leg betraying her otherwise perfect holding position. It was hard to tell when she was dressed in all black, but he was not just a snake, but a fox as well. His senses would not elude him. “Before I answer,” he says, “I would like to have some tea.”

He saw her eyes flicker, like the shine of a coin tossed in the well. “To poison me?”

“If anyone here has intent to poison another, it is certainly not me. I have done my work in cleaner methods.” He turned on his heel, and stood still for a few seconds. He smiled. “You are curious after all.”

Finally remembering herself, she aimed the rifle at him once more. “Do not accuse me. I chose not to shoot your unguarded back out of kindness as well, not curiosity. Do not tell me what I am.”

He smiled some more, unchiseled by her constantly blunt edge. He began walking. “Come, little one.”

The tea was lukewarm as always, and Mitsuhide smiled placidly at her. “I'm not sure how it works in your country, but it is bad manners to drink while standing.”

She still refused to pull down the cloth covering her mouth, although they both knew it was inevitable that they would see each other's faces by the end of their exchange.

Her searching around the room was too tame to be called curiosity, and he had no doubt it was mere caution either. The veiled woman splayed her fingers out and felt around the wood. She's already noted the exits, no doubt. Mitsuhide brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. Is she testing the thickness of the walls to muffle a gunshot? She must know better.

He smiled at her. “I have something more interesting than the walls, if you would allow me to entertain you.”

Either she did not catch the euphemism, or she was great at schooling her expression. Either would indicate someone who would be trained in stoicism or simply sheltered—perhaps a noble's daughter, or a well-bred kunoichi. She sat across him, and he blinked. Interesting. He poured tea for her, so gracefully it almost appeared like a tea ceremony.

Her hands were folded in her lap, still, and he made a show of drinking his cup audibly, even emphasising his gulps. Mitsuhide smiled at the black veiled woman. “Quite refreshing.”

She tentatively took the cup. Her stare was leveled with his, and only now he noticed that her eyes were not brown like copper coins, but like worn down gold. “You could've poisoned it before you poured it for me.”

“You saw me yourself.”

Her grip around the cup tightened. “You could've preemptively poisoned the tea with a poison that is uncommon to me, but—” Her voice faltered, remembering who she was and where she is.

“But not me—is that correct? A poison familiar to me and not you… Perhaps something like flowers local to the Azuchi mountains, or…” He leaned closer, smiling. “The venom of a snake?” Mitsuhide combed his mind. Shingen's Mitsumono often consisted of both women and men, but they were very selectively chosen. The woman sitting in front of him was not of tall or round build; a higher center of gravity that would render her useless if she was not well armed with the art of protecting oneself. She was unfamiliar with the Azuchi land, not even with the poisonous flowers and fruits in the mountains.

Mitsuhide smiled. She was a newly born fawn.

He leaned back. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of faux-poisoning?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Call my name with whatever rings kindest. I know who you are, Akechi Mitsuhide.”

Oh? A newly born fawn with an apt mind. “You are rather unwise to realise that fact is not a benefit, but rather bad luck.”

He saw her cheeks rise slightly behind the black cloth. He smiled back at her.

“And what business do you have with someone like me?” Mitsuhide said softly, and then added: “My lady.”

It was quiet; like the sense of dread and calculation that sometimes plagued Mitsunari when Masamune and Ieyasu were in the midst of war, and he was doing risk-assessment in his mind. Judging which lives were better to forfeit for the sake of victory. Realising that she had given herself away, she stood up. Mitsuhide's gaze followed her as she reached into her coat and saw the barrel of a pistol catching the moonlight through the gaps in the wall.

Mitsuhide stood up, his hand swift in unsheathing his sword. Only Nobunaga has that type of gun. A small trinket he bought from the Western merchants. That means—

Bang!

The sound of the gunshot reverberated, and Mitsuhide fought his pounding head and echoing ears. The woman made quick work of his momentary distraction, and fled the shack with ample speed. Mitsuhide snapped himself back to his senses and pursued, but when he had exited the shack, he could only see a figure clad in shadow jumping over a rooftop.

A couple of soldiers doing their daily rounds scurried to him like a pack of mice, and the wicked cleverness of her only dawned on him then. She might be a newly born fawn, but she was mentally agile enough to make him run.

“My Lord! Did something happen? The gunshot we heard was not from you, was it?”

Mitsuhide smiled. “It was me. I was just…” He looked ahead to the sky, the moon coloured like a blister and the night sky like her veil. “Hunting.”

One soldier blinked incredulously. “Hunting? At night?”

Mitsuhide eyed one particular soldier, who was in no way outstanding, but still possessed a somewhat credible and sane mind. Mitsuhide swung his sword at him, which the soldier then responded to by unsheathing his own in a parry. The soldier looked mildly offended, and he tried not to laugh despite himself. Mitsuhide smiled like a scythe's edge. “See?” He said to the other soldiers. “Only night will do for shy creatures.”

***

Twice, he met her outside the audience chamber, when the sky was like the colour of tea steeped too long.

Mitsuhide smiled, bending slightly at the waist. “My lady.”

She nodded slightly. “Akechi Mitsuhide.”

He chuckled sonorously. “Why, it almost feels like I'm being punished by my mother.”

“That imagery does not bode well in my mind, I must admit.”

Mitsuhide put his hand on his heart in a gesture of mock-hurt. “Is it so hard to imagine me at the mercy of another woman? You do flatter me.”

The princess raised a brow. “You think too kindly of me.”

Mitsuhide smiled at her. “Did you not tell me to call you by whatever rings kindest?”

She paused. “And what have you decided?”

Now that she was not veiled like a sorrowful widow, he was able to see her more clearly. It was still early out; the distant sun shone and gave them both warmth, like smoke coming from a faraway campfire. Her eyes like a noble's gold yet holding no distaste, only pride. “A bride,” he finally said. “You look like a black bride in mourning.”

Her eyes sparked like a matchlock rifle about to fire. “You will find nothing to pity here.”

“Certainly not at night, dear princess. But it is still light out, and anything can happen.” Mitsuhide turned on his heel smoothly and nodded curtly. “It has been nice meeting you outside our rendezvous.”

When Mitsuhide arrived at Nobunaga's room, his eyes immediately met Hideyoshi's. Unlike his usual chiding manner, he was quiet. He turned to Nobunaga, and then made a dogeza. “Lift your head.”

He did so. “What am I to do for you, my lord?”

Nobunaga rested a chin against his knuckles, and even Mitsuhide did not deny the power in his eyes. He did not simply fake it to intimidate his enemies. There was genuine confidence that he was able to conquer whatever lay in his path. Mitsuhide had used his own confidence as a means of gaining information, but in front of Nobunaga, he felt almost childish. Almost. “You've met the princess.”

Mitsuhide regarded his lord in name. “Will you instruct me to look over her, my lord?”

Nobunaga's lips twitched in a half-smile. “Not quite. I want you to marry her.”

Mitsuhide's heart stopped for a second, but he willed it to keep on beating. It is not an unusual request. “Understood.” He raised his eyes to meet Hideyoshi. “This is a rather unusual time for you to keep company, I must say.”

Hideyoshi's nostrils flared at that. Nobunaga waved his hand airily. “Hideyoshi will oversee the care of the princess. It is necessary for him to know.”

Not really, Mitsuhide wanted to interject. Though I suppose that means something in itself.

He looked back to Nobunaga. That must've meant it was something that also needed to be handled publicly and privately—in the dark and in plain sight. He racked his brain for a conclusion.

He met the princess in the banquet hall, and he poured her a drink. Mitsuhide smiled. “I suppose you already know this, but pouring for someone else indicates subservience.”

Her eyes glittered. “In my country, it's what we do to say that we aren't poisoning the other.”

He kept his smile close to him like a good hand of hanafuda. “Very wise mannerisms. Though I do worry that culture built on fear will never thrive. Why not take the time to relax, dear princess?”

She took a sip of her cup, and he observed the way her nose twitched at the scent of potent alcohol. What kind of princess was she that she had never been exposed to it?

She casted him a shadowy glare. “It's not very good.”

Mitsuhide bowed his head slightly, then craned his neck to meet her eyes. No matter his height, she always sat as if she had authority. It reminded him much of Nobunaga. “My apologies. My lack of taste buds have robbed you of your drinking pleasure.”

Something flashed in her eyes, the low light of a candle wick about to burn out. “You can't taste anything?”

Mitsuhide shrugged. They were to be married, but he didn't know what her plans for him were. He would have to choose his response carefully. “To a degree. Poison tastes different, though I wouldn't call it sweet or sour or bitter. It has a similar effect to drinking pulverised fruit. They react similarly on my tongue. That's why,” He leaned in surreptitiously, “if you were to poison me right now, I would not know the difference.”

It was the same scenario. His unguarded back, and the rifle heavy in her hands, not knowing whether to trust him or kill him. Where did he lie between her curiosity and the barrel of her gun?

She was silent, pouring him a drink. I will not poison you. Her eyelashes caught the light in an oiled sheen, like even her eyes were mechanical.

“I have done my work in cleaner methods.”

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen writing #ikesen fanfic #commissions

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inkribbon796 · 4 years

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Contradictions

Summary: Google meets Bim for the first time, and comes to realize that Dark is full of contradictions.

A/N: Google is my curious bean and I want good things to happen to him (looks at the angst I have planned and sweeps it under the rug) nothing but good things.

Also the files mentioned are the other’s kids that Dark is planning on “adopting” in the coming month which is when the Lost Ones story I wrote takes place.

~::~ 14 Years Ago ~::~

It had been a couple weeks after Dark had taken Bim to the office for the first time, he had brought him back again. In that week, rumors flew like mad. Most people were writing off the encounter, but others took and exaggerated it to an extreme degree.

Dark’s blue soul might have helped with some of the wilder ones. But he had to set up some insurance after Bim lost himself in a shopping mall.

So Dark was back in his main warehouse office with Bim, two of his most loyal enforcers, his lieutenants, and Google.

Google was staring at Bim, an expressionless mask over his face.

“I have many questions,” he finally said.

“I have even more,” Bargs agreed as Dark’s other lieutenant was walking forward.

Sierras pinched Bim’s cheeks, almost knocking the child frames almost tied to his face, “What a cute little thing.”

Bim was trying to push her away.

Bargs was just staring at the kid, looking uneasy, “Where’d he come from? Is he Wil’s?”

“That would be the most logical conclusion,” Google agreed.

“The official statement on the books is that Edgar procured him for me,” Dark warned, as the man in question walked in with a stack of six five files.

“Here yah go,” Ed sighed, handing Dark the files who began quickly flipping through them. Before sliding them through the Void, and acting like he’d never been given them in the first place.

Edgar realized Bim was standing there and gave the boy an uncomfortable look before nervously eyeing the door. “Am I released now?”

“Ed isn’t he just the cutest.” Sierras smiled as Bim finally pulled himself free and walked over to Dark.

The southern gave a look towards Dark, “Sure, yeah, yah’all need anythin’ else, or am I good?”

“You can go,” Dark dismissed. “Get to work.”

“Thank yah,” Ed rushed out of the room.

Google watched him go, observing every twitch he made, once the door closed the android dared to comment, “And the reason for this clearly false statement?”

Both Dark’s lieutenants looked nervous, staring at Google.

“I have a suspicion that he’ll look more and more like Wilford as he gets older,” Dark admitted. “I want to avoid people that Wil has slept with in the past trying to extort me.”

“So he is Wil’s?” Sierras asked in surprise, trying to look around Dark’s leg where Bim was glaring angrily at her.

Google knelt down, trying to get a good look at the boy, already taking in observations like the nice clothes and the glasses.

“Like everything else he does he acts before he thinks,” Dark explained. “Wil’s nickname for him is Junior, that will suffice.”

“That’s not my name,” Bim told Dark, clearly upset,

“We talked about this,” Dark scolded calmly.

“I wanna go back to Daddy,” Bim told Dark.

“In a minute, I have to talk with the and then we’ll go,” Dark’s voice was firm, noticing that Google was now staring at him.

“Well all I have to add is that if either of you spot him running loose, which should never happen,” Dark glared at Bim on that last part of his statement, “he should be brought back to me. If anyone asks you about rumors about him, you are to deny them, even if the statement is incorrect.”

All three of them agreed to his demands, and then Dark dismissed his lieutenants, keeping Google in the room with him and Bim.

“Just say it,” Dark ordered him.

“This . . .” Google went quiet for a second. “This contradicts your previous actions.”

Dark clasped his hands behind his back, internally cursing Google for being too useful, “How so?”

“You show regular disdain for others, even your captains and lieutenants who you allow to live despite their many constant failings, like breathing,” Google explained. “However inordinate care was given to Wil’s child. He has a pair of glasses showing you regularly take him to doctors and specialists, because I highly doubt Warfstache would show such foresight. I tally that with your own clothing style, this boy’s suit must cost a similarly proportional amount.”

Walking forward, Dark thought for a second about the best way to go about this, “I’m going to need you to agree to something, a simple NDA.”

“Why not just command me?” Google snarled, hating the idea of being silenced by any means.

Dark looked back at Bim, “We’d agreed not to speak of that in company.”

“And why would I want that?” Google asked.

Bim made a gasp, and pointed at Google, “Why do you have his face?”

“It’s not polite to point, Sunshine,” Dark corrected, using his aura to push his hand down.

“Sunshine?” Google repeated. “May I ask who his maternal donor was so I can mentally prepare for the court case? Or should I preemptively kill them beforehand?”

“Bim is a clone of Wilford and I,” Dark admitted.

Google froze and he pointedly stared at Bim, “A clone, I was not aware you were interested in that?”

“If I tell you anything else,” Dark warned. “You will agree that everything I tell you, from his real name to his status as a clone stays between the two of us. Any information that I divulge, you can also communicate that information with them, but not anything more than that.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Google admitted; so long as he was not denied the information, he didn’t care who else Dark excluded. Smiling, Google brought up a holographic screen with the exact terms Dark had brought up. That Google would stay quiet so long as Dark shared information with him.

Dark read through everything and they both agreed to it.

There was a quiet gasp and Bim walked over, trying to grab the screen. “So cool.”

The Entity frowned at Bim, but before Dark could nudge Bim away, Google brought up one of his screens and had some glowing circles on it. Google watched his pupils briefly dilated before he touched the screen. The circles looked like they were exploding into fireworks when Bim tapped them.

Bim began slamming his hands against the circles as they appeared, Google calculating his reflexes as he went.

“You were saying?” Google urged Dark, the android hadn’t taken his eyes off him.

“Now that we agree to the terms, and I demand you print out a copy of that immediately,” Dark ordered.

“Done,” Google was already sending the information to Dark’s personal printer. “So whose DNA was used to make him?”

“By the records I have both mine and Wil’s were used,” Dark admitted. “No, I do not know how that works. In time, when I can trust your silence, I will give you access to his medical record. Junior’s real name is included in our little arrangement. You will address him as the others do.”

“Okay,” Google agreed, before observing Bim a little more closely, he’d gotten bored with Google’s little test and was tapping all over the screen to get it to do something else. “Why use Warfstache’s DNA? Was it for creating a more powerful clone?”

“As if I would use anyone else’s DNA,” Dark scoffed. “Wil is one of the few individuals I can tolerate on a regular basis.”

“An aspect of your personal life I fail to understand,” Google admitted. “Warfstache is loud and invasive and an overall security risk. If those traits were learned by a child it stands to reason that it might be an annoyance rather than beneficial.”

Dark just about took Google’s head off for his barbed comment, and the android felt Dark’s aura tightly curling around his neck, a warning sensor silently went off.

“Unless those traits were purposely selected?” Google corrected, unsure how to word his way out of Dark’s anger. He didn’t understand Wilford. The first time he’d met him Google had shot him and was consequently shoved aside by Dark. Wilford was, by all records that Google could find, indestructible. He didn’t die. Warfstache walked into the warehouse on many occasions with singed hair, clothes riddled with bullet holes, cuts that would kill a lesser being, and drenched in blood. His own or another’s Google was unsure and uncaring

Perhaps the demon found such displays “attractive” but that was something Google understood even less. Dark was a violent individual, something Google found he could actually understand, but Google barely had the ability to understand human mating patterns as it was . . .

But if Bim was a product of this relationship, perhaps this was standard demonic reproduction. Just applied with modern technology.

Dark’s vast power with Warfstache’s indestructibility . . . in an easily controlled and easy to teach package.

“Of course,” Google realized, his thought train lasted mere seconds to the outside world. “Naturally it would be.”

Dark seemed more confused than angry, and his aura constricted a bit looser than before.

“Are Wilford’s powers linked to his personality, or is his personality a byproduct of those powers?” Google wondered out loud, his processors already going off.

Dark raised at eyebrows, hands lightly clasped behind his back as he tried to use his aura to keep Bim from physically touching Google. The little boy was trying to reach up to touch the glowing “G” on his chest, and Dark didn’t trust Google not to electrocute Bim on reflex.

Thankfully Google hadn’t noticed and wasn’t waiting for an answer, his brain was already spinning with the applications that a child with demon heritage could be used for, seeing Bim far less as a person, and instead seeing him as a weapon. A prototype stage of a weapon, but a weapon nonetheless.

He was roused out of that when Dark spoke up, “I think you’re overthinking about this too much. Wil is a particular indulgence of mine. He is a good outlet for relieving stress.”

“How many people know about this?” Google asked.

“Apart from you and me? Two other people.” Dark pushed Bim away from Google and the little boy huffed and glared up at Dark, stomping his feet a little bit. “You will keep your hands to yourself, or you’re not going to the station afterward.”

Bim looked more offended then threatened, silently gasping before closing his mouth and puffing out his cheeks, turning away from Dark.

Dark visibly rolled his eyes, looking down at Bim for a couple seconds, then he turned back to Google and looked as if the exchange had never happened, “Anyway, you understand the need for complete secrecy. I understand and expect the information will get out eventually, but hopefully not until he’s more physically self-sufficient.”

“Does his development usually require close supervision or do you just leave him with a caretaker of some kind?” Google looked over Bim, trying to see any other signals that someone else looked after the boy.

“What is Wil’s belongs to me.” Dark motioned to Bim, “And he is Wil’s, I am not entrusting him to anyone else.”

“That makes sense,” Google agreed, going completely, inhumanely still. “Less cross-contamination.”

“I don’t think we’re having the same conversation,” Dark admitted. “But so long as you keep quiet, I don’t care what type of conversation we’re having.”

“If I might ask, why tell me at all?” Google asked.

“Because I can bully and threaten the others not to ask questions, or just leave them to believe that Bim is purely Wil’s son,” Dark told Google. “You however, I can’t afford to leave you to just ask questions, particularly around other people who will also ask the right questions.”

Google was fairly certain that was just a compliment, the first he’d ever gotten from Dark.

Then Dark added, “Then there’s also the fact that when you fixate on a task, I benefit from the information you find. So there are more pros than cons to bringing you into confidence.”

Blinking a couple of times, Google found he couldn’t fault in that line of logic. Google had never come into contact with a human clone before.

Google knelt down to get a closer limp and when Bim grabbed his face he used every ounce of self control not to shove him away. He did pull Bim’s hands down, trying to be as feather-light so he didn’t stress a single bone.

The android had never had to be gentle, it was a strange expectation for him. Not only for other people to have of him, but for him to have that same expectation of himself. “Everyone in the network calls you an underground Kingpin, I suppose that would make him a prince.”

Bim was tapping on Google’s glowing icon, Google refusing to let him access his settings or anything.

“He certainly acts like one,” Dark admitted, a softer expression on his face as he looked at Bim. “Wil enjoys spoiling him, but he is an only child so there’s nowhere else to put that attention. Besides, Bim is more than deserving of attention.”

“And what are you?” Google asked out loud, wondering about Bim’s hormonal and physical state.

“I’m gonna be a big tv star, like my daddy,” Bim smiled, holding his arms out. “I’m gonna grow a mustache just like him.”

Google projected this would just lead to another Warfstache, and Dark was letting out a long, controlled exhale, muttering to himself with a tone of absolute contempt, “Another actor in the family.”

Bim looked over at Dark, hurt and confused, “Huh?”

“Nevermind, Bim,” Dark opened up a portal. “Let’s go find your father, come along.”

Bim ran through the portal at full speed, an excited smile on his face.

“Remember our little arrangement,” Dark warned Google.

“As long as you supply me information,” Google agreed. “I will.”

“Of course,” Dark gave him a little grin and disappeared into the portal after Bim, leaving the android alone.

Quietly and stiffly, Google stood up and strolled out of the room, more than a little gleeful at the secret knowledge he harbored.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Markiplier #Darkiplier #Googleplier #Bim Trimmer #ed edgar #fluff #Google is a curious boi #Darkstache #but it's background only

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benjimirthursby · 4 years

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Prompt #9: Lush - “Barstool Acolytes.” - The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor

“The logic of avoiding “up well” leverage proved valid enough. The doctrine of Three Degrees was Benjimir’s most basic tenant. You never, ever present in battle or prior to it a means which you do not already have the means to detect, defend against and defeat. Here, it was also to avoid tipping our hand to foes we had not identified or assessed as yet. That did not mean however we weren’t observed for other reasons which would cost us dearly later on.”

~Bondermir Exidines, “Seven Stars to the Horizon.”

(Revised 9/20 for clarity, spelling and low fat content.)

“So she pushes that antique cart all about the city serving drinks?” Benjimir asked Bondermir as they road the elevator down from the Dapper Mariner.

“Nightly, twice on Saturday’s and festival weeks. She may or may not own the bar, I honestly don’t know. But it is sure as Chocopoo her cart.” Bondermir said as they stepped off the elevator. As they did, a disheveled Miqo’te stumbled past nearly running into them. “Business must be good for that.” Benjimir said as the Miqo’te took a long swig from a bottle in a paper bag. “What a lush.” Bondermir remarked. As they passed the Quicksand bar, Benjimir paused for a moment. Looking at the large doors, Benjimir turned to his brother. “You heading to quarters?” he asked.

“Yes, an hour talking contract terms with the Twinkinrykers takes a lot out of you. You thinking of getting a night cap? Bondermir asked curiously. “An actual drink?” He probed. “Of, you know, liquor?” He ribbed.

Benjimir adjusted his glasses with his middle finger. “People watching, maybe something to wash that down. I’ll see you in the morning.” Benjimir told his brother. Bondermir smirked, clapped his brother on the shoulder and said “Good luck in there.”

As he approached the doors to the Quicksand they popped open. A Hyur exited with a auburn haired…..or furred, he was still unsure which term to use, Miqo'te woman draped on his side strolled out. Both were oblivious to everything but themselves. Benjimir side stepped them passed through the doors as they began to swing closed. Pausing inside he surveyed the bar.

The Quicksand was like theater in the round. The room was bordered by an elevated concourse along the outside edge of which was hosted the hotel and services desks, bar, and innumerable people perched along a marble railing. The concourse sloped down to the level of a seating area in the middle.

What Benjimir noticed first however was the smell. Pungent. Deeply perfumed from the assembled inebriating masses. The masses were made up of a self mocking mix of extremes vying for one another's attention. There was a rich variety in modes of dress. Scantily clad females of several races, individuals and in groups. Entirely unsubtle males unconvincingly confidant clad in their leather or other machismo garb. Benjimir instantly recognized the patterns of people watching and being watched, the mating rituals, and the scattering of those present for none of it.

He made his way to the entry to the seating area, amused at the sights. The Lalafell woman with her drink cart, painted and inscribed like a childs toy chest with “Super Momo’s Cart!” passed him as she returned for her evenings drink run. Benjimir turned his mind to finding a place to sit.

Benjimir observed most of the other tables hosted more than one party. A couple of people appeared to be alone or apart from the group they sat near. He singled out a female of the Xaela race alone at a large round table, stirring a drink absent mindedly as she gazed around the room Benjimir approached and made a classic if dated gesture of touching his fingers to his chest, lips and forehead.

“May I trouble you to take one of these seat?” Benjimir asked. The Xaela looked up at him impassively but finally offered a polite smile and made a sweeping gesture with the drink mixer.

“They are free to be taken.”

Benjimir sat and looked around a moment. “Is there table service here?” He asked.

“New here?” the Xaela said, ‘Usually you are better served going up to the bar, but wave at Momodi long enough, she’ll get you setup.” she finished.

“The one with the cart, I see.” Benjimir replied turning around and looking for the Lalafell who was returned to her stool at the bar. He began to wave but his attention was drawn back to the Xaela. “So are ya?” the woman said.

“Oh, yes, I am. Never been here before.” Benjimir said. The Xaela allowed for a shallow smile, taking stock of her tablemate seriously now.

“Not a drinker either, are ya?” she asked rhetorically. Benjimir considered for a moment the possibility that this truth might actually be written on his forehead. “No actually.” He offered.

“Yeah, drinkers here know to get a drink before sitting, otherwise you seat goes away. You got a name mister sobriety?” the woman said smirking a bit as she resumed stirring her drink with the mixing stick.

Benjimir was unsure if he was entertainment to his tablemate or being preemptively setup to be shot down. The thought restored his focus as he realized the woman was a Xaela, few here in Ul’Dah and he knew very little of their race.

“I apologize, I’m Benjimir Thursby.” He said.

“Orbei.” Benjimir’s tablemate replied mater of factly and continued on without pause. “So where you from Benjimir originally, beyond ‘not here. What brings ya here?” Orbei asked.

At the table next to Benjimir and Orbei sat an auburn hued Miqo’te woman. Either from Orbei’s voice carrying or the momentary lull in chatter about the room she took notice of the conversation.

“Good to know you Orbei. I’m new to these shores, not really from anywhere really, I was….” he paused a fraction of a second, “born at sea.” Momodi passed and came to the table. She took a drink order from Benjimir for what essentially was a mineral water with fruit punch mixed in, Orbei ordered “her usual.”

“I am the chief of a trade and mercantile company. Business brings me to Eorzea. Curiosity to the Quicksand. I feared I’d miss something if I didn’t come here at least once.” He said.

Orbei nodded. “I see. So tell me Benjimir,” she leaned forward, “do ya fear death?” She said. Benjimir paused but responded. “Death is but a new lifes dawn.” Orbei smiled and nodded approvingly.

“Touche, very nice. Usually that scares people, but they normally have a few drinks in them. Not gonna pull that off with you I think.” Orbei said, amused and pleased she was not in the company of another dreg seeking what she was not offering. Benjimir, feeling the banter being on an even basis now took a discreet look over Orbei. Black horns, dark blue skin. She was a follower of the Dusk Mother, which was maybe as much as he knew with certainty. They could be found only sparingly, along with the kindred race, the Raen. The passenger manifests had shown him few were traveling by way of air or sail ship either with Maelstrom or the company fleet.

Orbei was quick to pounce on the minor pause and Benjimir’s look, more inquisitive than salacious she noted. “I’ma Thaumaturge, we do stuff and things, worship Thal. They have Thaumaturges at sea?” she asked.

“Maybe by another name. Do all of you people worship Thal?” Benjimir asked. The red Miqo’te at the adjacent table perked her ears as he spoke. Now she edged her chair about some to see the man she was eavesdropping on.

“Oh, pity. I study at the Arrzaneth Ossuary. Everybody there honors Thal. So you were born at sea, that make you a Hy-sea or something?”

“I don’t know really, just a man, of the race of men. Your one of those Xaela, are all your people hued as you are? I’ve not met one before.” Benjimir said.

The Miqo’te’s ears twitched.

“Not a lot of us here so far. I knew a few when I first came. Some of us are this color, others not. Lots of different people at the Ossuary though.” Orbei answered and continued. “Thal is the god of death and darkness. Ya didn’t really answer my question though, do ya fear it?”

“I don’t see reason to fear it. Regret it maybe. Every people have their myths and faiths about life, death, gods. People are entitled to what they choose to believe.” Benjimir said. The Miqo’te rose from her seat and as she walked toward the table. Orbei chuckled at her approach. The female whipped the chair between Benjimir and Orbei around and saddle rode it she put her drink on the table. With a stern glare she spoke to Benjimir.

“You people, those people, all you people. What makes you ‘ayfaluten’ Hyur-at-sea-or-whatever types blow into Ul’Dah and start riding down anybody with a tale or whose under the table tall?” the Miqo’te laid into Benjimir. Orbei suppressed a snicker.

Benjimir smiled politely if with a slight of sarcasm and with slightly portion of it asked the Miqo’te, “I’m anything but rich, thank you, I have never met any of Orbei here’s race, or your own, whom I’m honoring by acknowledging as a people. And whom in whatever your own people call hell are you by name to presume it is your affair?” The nearby tables and people lounging on the concourse rails above discreetly took notice and gave ear to exchange.

The Miqo’te was taken aback for a moment. Orbei took the opportunity to introduce her friend. “This is Smathlyn. She’s a Miqo’te…...no horns.” she said and pointed to her own black horns.

Benjimir nodded in acknowledgement. Smanthlyn continued, if with a hair more restraint. “We get enough Hyurs coming into Ul’Dah, all rich from cashing in on the calamity, taking over farms, selling stuffs and things for a months pay. They come about here, treating Lalas, Miqo’te, all of us that aren’t all cute skinned and super-boobed like bad waiters. Poke’n fun at our gods.” She finished and took a sip of her drink. Orbei leaned forward and spoke.

“Smathlyn’s sorta our mother hen here. She doesn’t suffer fools in nice cloths.” she said. Orbei looked at Smathlyn “He wasn’t offending just asking. And his cloths aren’t that nice.” Smathlyn listened but continued to cast a skeptical eye on Benjimir.

Benjimir looked down at his clothes. “Thanks. And I’ve spent my life at sea and far from this place. I wouldn’t know a Miqo’te from a Xaela until it was pointed out to me. As for your god, I honor it. Never get between a person and their faith, nothing good can come of it. And I’ve my own spirituality. Orbei and I were just talking and she was being nice enough to teach me a thing or two. Learning about other ways adds to my appreciation of my own” Smathlyn looked over to Orbei who nodded and stared back at her friend.

“Well alright then. If Orbei says so. If you are wanting to learn something then you should visit the Ossuary, it is a place of peace and meditation.” Smathlyn said. “You going tonight Orbei?” she asked her friend.

“Figuring’n too. You want to come Benjimir the non-aflu’nt?” Orbei said and asked, turning to Benjimir.

“Ladies. It would be my honor, pleasure and education.” Benjimir said.

*******

Authors note. This was a fictionalized but inspired entry based on my very first night RP’ing in FFXIV, when Benjimir went to Quicksand, struck up a conversation and a bystander actually misstook what I said and launched into me. For a month people there remembered the discussion. It actually proved an amazing night of RP. Names have been changed because, well, I can’t remember who it was. But hey, good times.

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