#the man drew a cross and said there's your map

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #22: Kith and Kin

Prompt: rencounter (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Spoilers through Patch 6.5: Growing Light, and very very very minor ones for Dawntrail.

---

Radz-at-Han was a truly beautiful sight from the air. Built atop a large, lonely plateau rising above the Thavnairian jungle, the city covered its entire surface in a myriad of brightly painted buildings, open plazas decorated with mosaics, and lush gardens on multiple rooftops. And even from this distance, there was no mistaking the crowds that bustled throughout the city and crossed the great bridge connecting Radz-at-Han to the rest of Thavnair.

Excitement bubbled up in Ehll Tou’s throat and she trilled an adventuring song as she began to glide downward in a smooth spiral.

The airship landing was easy to spot, a series of long platforms jutting out from the plateau close to the main gate. As she drew closer, Ehll Tou spotted a figure waving from the end of the westernmost dock: large and broadly built, grey skin, large ears, a sinuous trunk, and wearing a beautiful sari of pink and purple. Ah, that must be Nidhana! Ehll Tou obligingly adjusted her course.

The arkasadora took some steps backward as Ehll Tou neared, her ears held up perked and alert. Almost to the edge now, Ehll Tou threw herself into a backwards loop—it had taken quite a bit of practice to relearn how to do that in her adult body—both as display and to slow her momentum. Coming back upright, she flared her wings as a finally braking maneuver, and landed delicately on one foot, and then the other.

[Hello!] she sang happily. [Are you Nidhana?]

“I am indeed!” Nidhana said, striding forward with surprising grace for a being so tall. She held out her hand, and Ehll Tou reached forward to shake eagerly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ehll Tou! Welcome to Radz-at-Han.”

[A pleasure to meet you as well!]Ehll Tou said. [I’ve heard so much about you and your city! Thank you so much for allowing me to attend your introductory alchemy class.]

“Oh, it is a delight to accept a student so diligent and eager to learn,” Nidhana said, beginning to walk down the pier. “I am only sorry I cannot introduce you to Master Vrtra and Mistress Azdaja, but diplomatic business has taken them to Tural and I’m not certain when they will return.”

Ehll Tou kept easy pace beside her and reached into her bag, retrieving her hat and carefully pinning it back to its rightful, jaunty place atop her left horn. [That’s all right,]she said. [There will be plenty of time to properly meet my kin! I am not in any rush.]

“Ah, the benefits of a draconic lifespan,” Nidhana sighed wistfully. “The things I could learn over such time!”

The two chatted happily as they traveled through Radz-at-Han’s streets towards the High Crucible, with Nidhana pointing out many shops and restaurants and landmarks and Ehll Tou dutifully committing them to memory as she built her mental map of the city. She drew curious looks from many Hannish citizens, though dragons had become a somewhat more common sight since Vrtra began openly ruling as satrap. The adventurers were a familiar sight, and some she even knew from Ishgard! With those she exchanged hellos and promises to meet for a snack and cup of tea.

“Such a wonderful world we now live in,” Nidhana said, her trunk curled and ears gently flapping in the manner Ehll Tou was quickly learning meant happiness. “As terrible as the Final Days were, its aftermath has brought new life to the city and Thavnair as a whole. New foods, new ideas, new friends!”

[It is wondrous to see,] Ehll Tou trilled and tapped her claws together with excitement. [I never thought to see the end of the Dragonsong War, but now I may safely travel the lands of man and learn new skills and meet new peoples, and compose songs to share it all with my kin and encourage them to travel and learn, too!]

Nidhana trumpeted a laugh. “Oh, Sisters have mercy on me, I know now why Synnove adores you so much! It is going to be an honor to teach you, truly!”

Ehll Tou chuffed, chest puffing with pride.

--

Five days later, Ehll Tou was browsing one of the markets, humming happily to herself as she examined a stall of clockwork devices. Her first days of classes had gone well and she had settled into the nest that the Alchemists’ College had prepared for her in the student housing close to the High Crucible. She was making new friends, too, and while some of it had no doubt been engendered by the allure of a draconic classmate, once her classmates realized how well-read she was, they had quickly settled into a mix of gossip and idea sharing. Such fun!

She did miss Hautdilong and Arvide, but they had encouraged her to take this opportunity, and she would be back home within the next few moons once the class was concluded. And in the meantime, she would write letters to them, eagerly await their own, and acquire some souvenirs to bring home with her!

Today was a free day and while she would later meet with her classmates to review their notes and prepare for their first laboratory session, this morning was the perfect time to shop.

Ehll Tou had already purchased some silk for a potential sewing project she had in mind, thread for embroidery in colors that made her purr, and a number of interesting snacks she could share at the study session. The clockwork had caught her eye, used as she was to Ul’dahn styles, and her perusal right now was for an item or two she might carefully disassemble to compare its construction to a Goldsmiths’ Guild mammet she was building. A watch was always a good starting point…

A flash of moving scarlet caught her eye, and Ehll Tou raised her head to spot a dragonet further down the boulevard. She blinked curiously; none of her cousins had said they would be visiting Radz-at-Han, but the dragonet didn’t quite look like any of her cousins, either. Perhaps this was a Meracydian dragonet, one that Great Mother Tiamat felt was well enough to travel beyond the safety of her restored brood? Oh, what fun, she hadn’t met any of her Meracydian kin yet!

Ehll Tou made her selections, gently haggling with the shopkeep, and shook hands once they were both content with their deal. She exchanged gil for the watches, placed her purchases within her satchel, and trotted off down the street.

As Ehll Tou drew closer, she noted that the dragonet was certainly no Dravanian but was quite pretty: her wings had feathers, and a fluffy ruff of white feathers crowned her head behind her horns! She whistled a hello, and the dragonet turned—

—this was not a dragonet.

Ehll Tou scrambled to a stop.

{Oh, look at you!} The great wyrm in a dragonet’s body swooped closer. {What a beautiful dragon you have grown into, scion of Ratatoskr!}

Her voice purred and rolled around the careful enunciations of Dragonspeak in both Ehll Tou’s ears and mind. The sound was warm and multi-toned, drums and dulcimers and heavy woodwinds, a deep contralto of age and experience and affection. In it was echoed the symphonic rumble of Kinfather Midgardsormr and the memory of the green skies of the Dragon Star; the hatching songs of new generations and warsongs of wyrms flying to protect their children; the hollow loneliness of a red moon and the dream of home.

Ehll Tou dropped into a bow, neck low and wings spread, and frantically pawed through her mental library of etiquette. Azdaja the Lost had never mothered a brood, so ‘Great Mother’ would not be the proper courtesy title, but perhaps a more mortal term would work, she could contract the layers of generations into one—

[It is my honor, Great Aunt Azdaja,] Ehll Tou trilled in Dragonspeak, though the term for ‘aunt’ translated rather awkwardly.

{Such wonderful manners, I am well met,} Azdaja said, squinting her eyes closed in pleasure. {Further formality is not necessary, little niece.}

Ehll Tou popped up from her bow, fairly vibrating with excitement. [Thank you, Great Aunt! I am Ehll Tou.]

{Yes, yes, Ehll Tou of Dravania! First of a new generation of dragons born to peace.} Azdaja’s voice had warmed even further. {My brother and I just returned to Radz-at-Han last night. How fortuitous that I met you this morning; Vrtra planned to send you an invitation to dinner so that we might properly meet and exchange songs. Would you be able to attend tonight?}

[Oh, yes, I would! Today and tomorrow are my rest days,] Ehll Tou said, fighting the urge to fairly dance in place. Oh goodness, to share family songs with two of the great wyrms! So much to learn! So much to share! She was going to be the utter envy of Zenith and Anyx Trine!

Azdaja’s laugh was a rippling sound of bells and flutes. {Might I accompany you?} she said. {I am still learning much about Radz-at-Han myself, and such excursions are always more joyous with company.}

[It would be my pleasure!] Ehll Tou couldn’t stop her excited hop as Azdaja came to hover next to her, both of their attentions caught by a samosa stall opening as the lunch hour began.

This, Ehll Tou knew, was going to be one of the best days she ever had.

[howtotrainyouragents]

It is infuriating how absurdly simple the One Piece world design is, yet how it completely holds up to the entire story

[piss-pumpkin]

Bad dreams (Percy x reader)

Child of Hypnos reader, ~4.5k words, set ambiguously after pjo, the request was enemies to lovers so I sincerely apologize. Masterlist

Capture the flag. It was a game of epic highs and lows, winner and losers, all to decide who wore the crown. Until next week, that is. And nobody took it more seriously than Annabeth, determined to win and keep her indestructible reputation as the best strategist around. She was in the war room, taking this very seriously, and discussing with her right hand man before the team.

Percy groaned, dramatically dropping his head on the table, half pushing off the map. “Annabeth, why?” He complained, hand waving in the air to communicate the distain that she couldn’t see in his face. 

Annabeth sighed, taking her head in her hands. “I know you don’t like them,” she started calmly, crossing the floor to Percy to pat his back gently. “But the Hypnos cabin is an asset, between all of them, we can have half the enemy team asleep,” she said, ever pragmatic.

Percy was not a fan of her reasoning, as sound as it was. Unfortunately for him, the head counsellor of the Hypnos cabin was you. And You and Percy? He didn’t even want to think about. No idea why you decided not to like him upon meeting, even less of an idea how it’s escalated as far as it has. “Wise girl, have mercy,” he whined, standing up straight again. “Putting me in a room with them is a sure fire way to lose.”

Annabeth pursed her lips. “That might be true,” she started, circling the table, eyes the pieces she set dramatically to represent each of her forces. One or two Hypnos campers per squad to weaken the enemy. “But they’re essential to the plan, just… you’ll be in different areas, if all goes well.”

Percy grumbled. Things never went well. 

As the battle drew closer, the allied cabins assembled to hear the more polished version of Annebeths plan. And of course, that meant you at the table, front and centre, your forces being an essential part of the strategy. Great. You always listened to Annabeth, even though she was always sticking up for him. And she managed to get you on the same team, even when you knew that guy you hated would be there. 

You nodded along with the details, assigning siblings you thought best for each task. You seemed a lot nicer with them. 

You conferred with your cabin, and offered another plan to Annabeth. Percy wasn’t completing focused, because when you were done, he had no idea what you’d said. Annabeth seemed to be a fan though. She nodded along, and adjusted the prices on her map while you have people notes and alternate delegations.

An order to each cabin head. All except him. He glanced around at each counsellor telling their cabin mates what they should do, and he cringed. You’d instructed everyone else. “Uh,” he started looking to you because Annabeth was busy talking to the Apollo counsellor. “Does my job change at all?” 

You pursed your lips, smiling just slightly. “No, I guess I didn’t have anything for you,” you said slyly. “But isn’t jumping in without thinking kind of your whole thing? Just roll with that, yeah?” 

Percy’s face flattened as he sighed. He needed somebody else, “Annabeth?” He asked.

She turned to him, and thought for a moment. “They might have a point,” she said curiously, much to his detest. Percy grumbled as she continued. “Using you as a wild card might be beneficial, especially because you can take large groups of them at once.”

Great. No job, and more work, somehow. And you were smiling, a bit too satisfied with yourself and his annoyance. Why was it always like this? 

                                             …

There was one time when Percy was sparring with Clarisse, and they got a little too heated, and it ended up with Clarisse on Pegasus cleanup duty, and Percy teaching sword classes for a week. Definitely the lighter punishment, considering he liked the job. Chiron always went a little easy on him. But there were layers to this punishment. Primarily: you.

When Percy was approaching, he saw you, and sighed. You were there first, already talking to the younger campers, wide smile on your face and holding a weapon. Ugh. Of course he had the misfortune of fucking up the same time as you. Okay. This week was actually going to be terrible. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, jogging up to you and the campers. You’d just finished some sort of introduction, it was the perfect time to slide in. The youngest kid looked maybe ten, and had a dagger in her hand. She was little small for the real swords. The kids were looking up at him, faces blank or curious, and you were side eyeing him, brow raised, completely unimpressed. Yeah, he should probably do something interesting.

“Yeah, you sure were,” you laughed sarcastically, sounding just nice enough for the kids not to pick up on your distain. 

Percy grimaced. Great start. With a deep breath, he did  his best to recover, running his hands through his hair nervously. “Well, I’m here now, so,” he said, looking at the younger campers. Grinning, and ignoring your cold stare, he uncapped Riptide, and a few kids gasped. “How about we get to the fun stuff?”

He spared you a glance, catching you roll your eyes at him. This was not going to be a good week. Quite possibly the worst punishment Chiron could’ve given him. 

It’s hard to teach as a team when you can’t get along  for a second. And all the kids noticed, and did their best to egg you on. Percy was fighting for his life harder than he had on several quests, until the very last minutes of the time slot. Thank the gods it was only like, an hour. Even if it was one of the longest hours of his life.

And he wasn’t even spared when it was over.

“Of course we fucked up on the same week” you sighed, picking up a carelessly discarded sword. “Let me guess, something boring…” you started, walking idly toward the weapons rack with a handful of blades. “Like what, blowing up the bathroom again? Or sneaking out of camp for a quest?”

Hmm. Low blow. Though not completely unwarranted. “No, much cooler than that,” Percy sighed, rolling his eyes as he kicked up some dust from the arena floor. “Beating up Clarisse.”

You scoffed, “somehow I doubt that.”

And you weren’t exactly wrong. It was more of a mutual beating up, in a sort of frenemy way, Percy was the first to admit. But not to you. “Hey, you should see her,” he chided. “There’s cold hard proof.”

You bumped his shoulder on the way out of the arena, sighing. “Maybe I will, I could get some tips on kicking your ass,” you said, raising your brow. 

By the time he thought of a good-ish response, you were too far away to hear, and he was kicking himself for letting you get the last word. He glanced around the empty arena dumbly. It looked like you finished the cleanup while he just stood there, another point you had on him now. The punishment may not have been a competition, but you seemed to be winning thus far. Shit. 

And it only gets worse from there. 

He managed to come early the second day, a full fifteen minutes to get warmed up, and think about what could be good to teach the newbies. And he had the arena all to himself to slash dummies in the exact way he’d instruct them to do later. 

“Clarisse told me Chiron intervening is all that saved you from getting sent to the infirmary,” you said.

Percy jumped, Riptide nearly falling out of his hand. When the fuck did you get here? He hadn’t heard you at all. Sneaky bitch. He turned to face you when he recovered from his shock, “yeah, well, she couldn’t admit she lost a fight if there was a gun to her head.”

You didn’t look sold. You raised your brow, “could you?”

He pursed his lips. He wanted to say something like, yes, duh! But quickly realized it might be a lie. To most people he could, but admitting defeat to you felt much worse. Like it would confirm all your doubts or apprehensions about him, or whatever your grudge was. He decided a little lie wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “I could,” he said casually, slashing a combat dummies head. 

He didn’t see your face as you hummed lowly with disapproval. Probably for the better. 

Or so he thought, because as you were walking towards the dummy beside his, he started to feel drowsy. His slashes got slower as his arms felt heavier, like they were weighing him down. He looked at you, and immediately wanted to lie down and pass out. Ugh.  Your subtle smirk told him you knew exactly what you were doing. And it only escalated when the kids started to arrive. 

You started the lesson off assertively. While he was struggling to blink with his heavy eyelids. “If you have any cool demigod abilities, you should totally use them literally whenever you can,” you said, pointing your weapon enthusiastically at the campers. 

Percy couldn’t help but watch in slight awe as you engrossed them all. You narrowed in on a son of Apollo,  your blade staring him down as you told him he should get comfortable using healing abilities in a fight. You seemed to have a suggestion for everyone; the daughter of Hectate should use the mist, a Demeter kid should try and use vines, your Hypnos brother should use… sleep powers. Percy knew about those all too well. 

Percy had to admit he was jealous of the way they seemed excited about your ideas. Did they really like you more than him? It wasn’t that he felt bad not being liked, he was plenty used to that in all the schools he went to. It was more that it was you. The way you showed a nicer side to seemingly everyone but him. His body still felt like it was made of lead. 

You had some blind spots though. Not everyone had powers, Percy guessed, watching a couple Athena kids rolling their eyes or looking at the ground. “I hate to interject,” Percy started, stealing your and the kids attention again. “But this is weapons training, there are other classes for using abilities.” Plus, maybe you’d stop using yours if they got back on focus. 

”Hey, I’m teaching them how to fight better, isn’t that the goal?” You shot back. You seemed to catch the way his eyes were lingering on the kids without abilities. “Even if you don’t have any specific powers,” you said, turning back to the campers, “if we start using them, you’ll learn how to counter them, and kick our asses better.”

Percy sighed. You seemed pretty stuck on this. He tiredly uncapped Riptide, and pointed at it. “Weapons class, Y/n. Let’s focus on using weapons,” he said. 

You shifted your lips around, maybe chewing on them, and then seemed to have a thought. Unfortunately. You smiled at the kids, “yeah, well, Percy doesn’t always use his abilities to the fullest when he fights,” you said. “Maybe don’t take his lead too much.”

Ugh. “Well, it’s not always as easy as some people make it look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Not everyone has powers, and some people get drained easily by theirs. For me, I can’t always rely on there being water around me.”

You crossed your arms, raising your brow, and actually looked at him this time. “You know what people are made of, right?”

The kids were listening intently, some snickering and smirking to themselves. A couple seemed annoyed that the training was paused just so the teachers could bitch at each other. Percy sighed, “yeah, no, I don’t want to do that. I think that was an episode of Avatar: the last airbender.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Well you might win more fights if you did,” you said snidely. Your eyes lowered a moment as you lowered your voice with a bitter tone, “I hate the idea of you going easy on me.” 

Before Percy could respond with a retort of his own, you’d dropped the mean act and completely focused on the kids, upbeat and happy. You clapped your hands together, and shot them a wide smile, “how about a demonstration, guys?” 

Aw shit. The kids lit up, nodding along as you continued. “How about me and Percy have a little match, and we see who wins, yeah?” You said, grinning at him. Ugh. It wasn’t a secret that people said he was the best swordsman at camp, but you were a head counsellor too. And even if he could stab you, he probably shouldn’t in front of the kids anyway. 

He had started to tune you out, but got snapped back to reality when he heard his name. “Percy, are you down?” You asked with faux sweetness. Ugh. Percy sucked a breath in through his teeth, and sighed. “Uh-Sure,” he said cautiously. 

You grinned, and the kids stepped back and whispered to each other. Yeah, they definitely picked up on your rivalry. They waited restlessly, probably excited to see the climax of your mutual dislike. Like the fight was inevitable. He uncapped Riptide with a sigh, and raised the blade as you shooed the kids to step further back. He took a fighting stance, raising his blade at the ready. Just great. Your aura of tiredness or whatever was affecting him seemed to get worse. Yeah, he might be fucked without water. 

You smirked, twirling a weapon of your own between your fingers and glancing at your audience happily, chest puffed out in self satisfaction. “Do you want to count us down?” you asked the kids, grinning. 

They nodded along, three, and Percy sighed, eying the water bottle he had off to the side. If he could get it then maybe... whatever. Maybe if he beat you, you’d lay off. Two. Or, if you won, you could get ten times worse. One. There was no good outcome. And it’s not like either of you could maim each other with the kids watching. 

Ugh. Still weighed down by an impossible spell of drowsiness, Percy started to lunge forward, sword ready to slash in an arc above his head. But then he looked at you. And you looked at him. And you were shooting him a finger gun, and Percy was out cold, without enough time to grumble or complain about it. Well shit. 

Like most times he slept, he was dreaming. Nightmares, specifically. At least he felt no godly presence, or anything sinister. Today, it was Annabeth and Grover dead on the floor, with Kronos in Luke’s body glaring at him from the sidelines. And then it was just Luke, looking at him sadly, approaching him, and then asking why he let his sister die. Percy didn’t have an answer. 

Nightmare Luke wasn’t a fan of that. Suddenly he was turning back into Kronos and raising Backbiter, and Percy was completely unable to move, paralyzed by fear, sadness, and bitter anger. Great. Just great. 

But Luke didn’t swing. He stopped, eyes cloudy and blank, and the bodies faded away. Was his subconscious being nice today? Luke stepped back, and his sword has vanished, and the scene was fading fast. 

Percy was awake. He grumbled, not wanting to open his eyes. His head was in the dirt, body completely weighed down by his own exhaustion. The arena floor wasn’t the worst place he could’ve fallen, at least. He grumbled, sat up, and rubbed his eyes until they opened.

You were still there, Percy’s eyes flew open, shaking any lingering tiredness. He scooted back just slightly. You were sitting beside him, head rested in hands and lips pursed. “Uhh,” he stuttered, scooting back further. “You’re uh, still hanging out here?” A quick glance showed the kids were gone, and the lesson had been over for a while. 

”You have some of the worst nightmares I’ve seen, dude,” you said simply, shifting your head from hands to hand. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Percys brow furrowed. What? You looked apprehensive, but your words didn’t seem malicious in the slightest. He stopped scooting back, but he held his arm up defensively between you, unsure why. You didn’t have a weapon. “It’s… fine. Was it you that… ended it?” He asked tentatively.

You nodded. “It didn’t seem fun,” you said quietly. You looked away, hiding your face in a palm, “Sorry for putting you in there, I guess,” you said. “I’ll try to avoid sleeping you, if you want.”

Percy looked at you quizzically, jaw hung slightly open, more than confused. You were being nice. That’s crazy. He wasn’t sure how to act. Every word he said was laced with hesitation and the slightest bit of a stutter. “Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Appreciate it.”

You nodded, and a slightly sealed silence fell over the woods as you refused to look at him. But you didn’t stand up to leave yet either. 

“Hey, Y/n, can I ask,” he started, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. “Usually you hate me…” he said, almost wincing. “Do you… not, today?”

That got your attention, and your eyes were burning through him. Your brow furrowed, and softened, your mouth opened and then closed, you looked away, then back at him, and then sighed. “I don’t hate you, Percy,” you admitted, sounding abjectly defeated. 

That got an involuntary “huh?” Out of him. You totally hated him. That was just a fact. 

You sighed, and shook your head, turning back away from him. You tone was far lighter this time, “no, I don’t hate you, I just- I don’t know,” you said.

”Then why-“ Percy started dumbly, but quickly trailed off, unsure how to make his question less rude. There didn’t seem to be an obvious answer. “Why are you like this,” he asked, cringing at his own callousness.

You snickered, looking at him with a slight and awkward smile. You shrugged, and looked back at the woods. Percy didn’t speak, he barely breathed, waiting for any sort of a signal from you. Somehow, it worked. You sighed , and stretched your legs in front of you and said, “I don’t know.” You paused, probably thinking. “It just comes naturally, I guess.”

Percy hummed. 

“That came out mean, didn’t it,” you laughed softly. 

“Like most things you say,” he laughed, but quickly trailed off. “Sorry.”

You smiled hesitantly, looking over at him with softer eyes than he usually sees on you. “No, that was deserved,” you said.

Percy smiled, and then raised his brow, surprising himself. That didn’t happen when he talked to you, this was fresh territory. Before he could respond, you were standing, and for the first time, offering him a hand up. And for the first time, he took it. 

You pulled him to his feet, but didn’t look at him, curtly turning your head away as he stood in front of you. Percy couldn’t help but snicker under his breath. You seemed intent on staring at a tree.

”Hey,” Percy started, brushing his hair out of his face. “Do you wanna go get on the same page about what we’re teaching them tomorrow so we don’t have a repeat of today?” He asked. He got a little scared when you finally looked at him, but you didn’t seem angry. And if anybody knew your angry face it was him. “We’ll probably be better teachers if we actually work together on it.”

You hesitated, raising your brow. “Uh, really?” You stuttered, crossing your arms and shrinking into yourself. 

Percy sighed. He was doing this, he’d committed now. For better or worse. “Yeah,” he nodded, with a friendly smile. “Why not? Let’s go get lunch or something.”

Percy wasn’t sure how well his olive branch was working. Your lips were pursed and arms still crossed, but.. the ever so familiar scowl you often showed him was absent from your lips. That could be good. You looked at the ground, then back to him, “yeah, okay.”

And here he was braced for rejection and an insult. Small victories. Percy grinned, nodding his head in the general direction of the dining pavilion, “then let’s go.” 

You nodded, and walked quietly beside him as he started for the path. Okay, a little awkward silence was nothing, that was still a win. Miles better than where he was this morning. Or even like, an hour ago. So Percy was inclined to try and bridge the gap. “The kids are gonna be really surprised when we actually work together, tomorrow,” he laughed. Careful words, when, not if.

He caught in his peripheral the tug of your lips upward into the slightest of smiles. “They’ll never see it coming,” you said. Maybe like a joke. Wow, was this actually working? You let out a small laugh, “neither did I.”

Percy but the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. That made two of you, because this was the last thing Percy expected too. “Yeah,” he started. “Not bad though.”

For the first time in a good minute, you met his eyes, and his attention was drawn. You didn’t normally look at him like that. It was a… nice change pace. You sighed, “No, not the worst.” You swished your cheeks around a moment as you paused, but didn’t say more. And Percy would be lying to himself if he tried thinking he wasn’t a little disappointed. It almost looked like you were gonna say something nice. Well, maybe not the worst was nice enough. For you, at least.

”Percy, I’m really sorry about those nightmares,” you said finally, looking at the ground. 

Ah. That. Percy didn’t tell all that many people about his shit dreams. It was kind of a given that most people at camp got them, in some capacity at least. But he did his best to project a lighthearted image, especially when he was with the younger campers. “Oh,” he said dumbly. 

“If you want, I can help with those,” you offered quietly. 

Now that caught Percy’s attention. He raised his brow, “You can do that?” And he didn’t ask his other question: you would do that? Like, for him? 

You looked up at him, then back to the ground as the two of you approached the dining pavilion. “Yeah, Hypnos stuff,” you mumbled. “I do it for some other people too.”

Oh gods, you felt bad for him. That was a weird thought. “Oh- you don’t have to do that,” he started, suddenly far more embarrassed. So that’s why you were being nice. Suddenly it didn’t feel as good as before.

You looked up at him with wider eyes now, and bit the inside of your cheek. “Well, if you ever change your mind.”

Something about your pity didn’t sit right with him, even if was glad you didn’t look like you wanted to bite his head off. This look, the feeling sorry for him face, was somehow worse. “I won’t,” he snapped, sounding meaner than he meant. Or maybe he did mean it, in his bitterness he couldn’t tell. “You don’t need to pretend to like me now that you feel bad.”

You brow furrowed, and that pity look was gone in an instant. “Hey asshole, I was just offering to help,” you spat. Now this was more familiar. You crossed your arms at your chest as you walked. “Thought about being nice for once.”

”Yeah, for once,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because now you feel bad.”

”Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head with a glare. You stopped just short of the pavilion. “You aren’t special because you get nightmares, idiot, half the camp does,” you said, stepping closer to him. He was inclined to back away. “I’ve seen worse.”

Percy took another step back. There was a few stray campers sitting in the pavilion watching curiously, now. 

“But sure, go ahead,” you said, hands animating with your words. He flinched a moment as you halfway gripped the air. “Keep having your shit dreams, I don’t care.”

“Then why did you offer,” he spat back.

You looked at him like he was an idiot, shaking your head. “Because nightmares suck, nobody deserves that shit,” you said, like it was obvious. “Not even a stuck up asshole who thinks he’s better then everyone.”

What? Percy stood dumbly for a moment while your sharp glare subsided into a duller scowl. Did he really come off like that? “I’m not-“ he started, but quickly gave up. As much as he wanted to insult you back, half the things you said were genuinely pretty nice. You were right, nobody deserved that.

You scoffed, “sure you’re not,” you said bitterly. 

The two do you stood silently for a moment. And a few moments more. The couple of campers watching awkwardly tried to go back to eating. The lunch plans the two of you made seemed so far in the past now. Same with the idea of getting in the same page.

Percy spoke first. “I don’t- I don’t think like that,” he said lamely.

”No, you’re just the hero of Olympus, who goes on all the quests, who the gods tried to give immortality too,” you said. But the malice was gone. “You’re the reason I even have a cabin here,” you said quietly. 

Percy winced. How do you explain to somebody that going on all those quests… wasn’t always great. It stopped being amazing when more lives were at risk, the stakes got higher, people died. A lot of the time all the glory kind of sucked. “Well it’s… not all it’s cracked up to be,” Percy managed. “I mean, you saw the aftermath.”

”Yeah,” you said, looking at the ground. “That’s why I thought.. you might not be how I thought.” You looked up, expression made of stone. “But at least you’re… I don’t know,” you trailed off, “I think I’d still rather be somebody, even if it sucks.”

Percy half heartedly laughed through his nose, “Usually I feel the opposite, it would’ve been easier to be a kid of some minor god.”

”Grass is always greener, I guess,” you sighed. 

“You are somebody, though,” Percy said, realizing he should probably address that. The idea that you were insecure seemed so alien. The way you insulted him always seemed so confident. “You don’t need a ton of quests or fights to prove that.”

You rolled your eyes, a weak smile was forming on your lips, “well, that’s easy for you to say. I’m only here, and claimed, and in a cabin because you made the gods pay their child support.”

Percy smiled softly, gesturing his head to the tables at the pavilion. He started to walk as he spoke, “that’s the gods, that’s their problem,” he said, grabbing a plate to fill with the magic food with you behind him. “You’re more then the gods approval.”

He had to look back to see if you were still there, the way you went quiet. You grabbed a plate, and followed him to a table, all with that stone faced look. Not pity or malice, this time. When you sat down beside him, you finally cracked. “Thanks,” you managed, staring ruefully at your food. 

“It’s true,” Percy said. 

You looked up at him, a slight smile on your lips this time. “Thanks,” you said, more confidently. 

“Are you still up for helping me with the nightmares?”

This request haunted me for like over a month cuz I couldn’t get anything out of it for a while. I wasn’t gonna post here but I ended up happier with it then I thought tho. Can you tell I never write enemies to lovers? I usually hate that trope lmao. Anyway part 2 coming maybe.

[lemon-russ]

Im so sorry if this comes off as demanding requesting or something but ive got Leman on the brain and it's AGH

i feel like that man would be almost suffocatingly warm. Like 'coming inside from being out in the snow and he's literally steaming' kind of warm

Man's would curl up around you like a dog if you shiver even a LITTLE around him. "Oh there's a meeting? Professionalism be damned my partner's cold and I'm putting them on my lap, deal with it"

You're fine!! Super cute Idea thank you!

Short Leman Russ x Gn!Reader :))

Leman stood over the table of maps, holo projections and battle plans as his brother Guilliman walked him through strategies.

“I feel like if we have you come in from this front, we can have my men come in here…” Guilliman droned on as he demonstrated on the maps.

A few Ultramarines mixed with Space Wolves around the room, looking stiff as always to Leman.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the maps, and he turned to see you coming in, snow flakes still sticking to the fluffier parts of your hair and melting on your face into little droplets.

You kicked snow off your boots, and reluctantly started to unwrap your snow-wet scarf, cheeks pink and nose red. You looked up at Leman with a small smile, shivering slightly.

“The snow really is picking up out there-” you started to say, but were interrupted by Leman making a displeased sound and crossing the room to you in a couple long strides.

Guilliman paused and watched, a frown of annoyance growing as Leman picked you up under the arms. You squeaked, but were quickly tucked up to his chest. He swiftly pulled off the rest of your damp outer layers, and re-wrapped his furs so you were wrapped in them, sandwiched between the pelts and his warm, dry tunic.

“Is the interruption necessary, brother?” Guilliman asked tiredly.

Leman huffed, cradling you in one arm under his furs, only your eyes and nose peaking out, and bringing you with him back to the war table.

“Baselines get sick when they're cold.” he said dismissively.

Guilliman sighed at his unprofessionalism, but Leman simply wrapped his other arm around you to warm you faster.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 37

Joel makes emotional adjustments to you and Ellie. A continuation of Lavender ch. 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Just smut. Smutty smutty smutty smut. Oral (m receiving); unprotected p in v sex (wraps it up fools); evidence of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.1k

“Joel,” Ellie drew his name out so it was stretched long and thin. “My fucking feet are about to fall off and that’s going to be an improvement. We have to stop.” 

“Few more miles.” 

Joel kept his eyes straight ahead and clenched his jaw. He knew the three of you had logged a lot of miles over the last few days. He sure as fuck was feeling it. His knees weren’t what they were 20 years ago but stopping had not been an option. He needed to get you all as far as he could from the men who’d tried to take you, been willing to hurt Ellie. 

The three of you walked through the night and then all the next day after fleeing the camp, going in non-sensical ways through the woods. You’d insisted on taking first watch but Joel had hardly slept. He woke up what felt like every few minutes, squinting to find you in the dark, the stock of the rifle across your lap glinting in the moonlight. You slept curled around Ellie, holding her small body tightly to your own, her head tucked below your chin. 

He woke you both before the sun was fully up, his legs still aching. But he had to keep you moving, had to put more miles between the three of you and things that would wish you and Ellie harm. 

It had been a week of this now. They hadn’t seen another person - even any signs of another person - since Joel killed the man from the camp. Hadn’t crossed paths with any infected, either. The three of you had finally come upon a road that morning, having cut through woods for days. Joel was hoping that you’d come upon a town at some point, even a fucking tiny one. Somewhere he could orient himself, just a gas station with a damn map would do the job. He wasn’t sure where he’d led you after twisting through the forest for so long, hoping to cut such a confusing path no one could follow even if they were trying to. 

He just wanted to get a few more miles. Then maybe the fear that had gripped him since you were pulled away from him and a gun was held to Ellie’s head would ease. Just a few more miles. 

“Joel,” you said quietly, glancing at Ellie as she trudged along the side of the road. “No one is following us. This isn’t helping.” 

He looked down at you, your eyes wide and soft. And it was a comfort for a moment. But then he remembered just how wide they got when you were ripped away from him, when you begged him to take Ellie away. 

“Few more minutes,” he looked ahead again. “Then we’ll stop for the night. Next town we find we can stop for a few days, if it looks safe.” 

“Few days?” Ellie perked up. “Fuck that sounds amazing. I’m going to sleep for like… a week. And actually give my feet a chance to go back to their normal shape, I feel like they’ve melted into these stupid boots…” 

Joel pushed you for another mile and found a spot off the road to set up camp for the night. 

“There’d better be a town like… three miles up the road,” Ellie muttered, her back against a tree as the sun set. “I am so fucking tired of walking. I never want to walk again.” 

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but we’ve probably only covered maybe 400 miles of the 600 or so we need to hit to just get to the Wyoming border,” you said, eyes closed as you rested your head against a tree trunk. “And then we need to get toward the side of the state that Tommy was calling from. We’re maybe halfway there.” 

“Fuck,” she muttered. You smiled a little. 

“One of these days I’m going to get on you about your language again, Gremlin,” you said. “You’re becoming feral in the wild.” 

Ellie scoffed. 

“I was always feral.” 

“More feral, then,” you conceded.  

“Thank you,” Ellie smiled, content. 

She settled in for the night, stretching out in her sleeping bag and curling in on herself as your fingers laced with Joel’s, your breaths relaxed and steady. It was calming, in a way. You were solidly next to him. He could feel you, hear you, sense you. Ellie was safe and close, even in her disturbingly small and fragile way of being. The sharp, jagged shock of fear that had been choking him for the last week eased when you were both like this. Where he could see you, know you were safe. 

He was used to it with you but it was new yet familiar with the girl. 

Joel hadn’t spent time with children since the outbreak. He’d never really been a kid person. Sarah had been the exception to the rule - to every rule, really. After she was gone, it made sense to avoid kids entirely. It was too risky. Some of the jobs he’d done in the QZ told him that. Kids were a walking liability. They were delicate, too curious for their own fucking good, no sense of self preservation. Joel had surrounded himself with people who weren’t risky. People who could handle themselves, who wouldn’t destroy him if they got hurt. 

It’s why he’d shoved you so far away from him, even while he was tied to you, like his veins ran from him to you and back again all the while. Ellie… she was becoming like that, too. 

He was sure that it had started because of you. Watching you with the girl was too much like seeing you with Sarah. Ellie and Sarah were two very different people but you loved them the same way - unapologetically, fiercely, fully. In the way that they needed you to love them without expecting anything in return. Your safety became tied to hers. 

But it had grown and changed in the few weeks Joel had known the girl. She was more like him than Sarah was in so many ways. She was more like him than she was like you. He saw so much of himself in her, in her rough edges and brash determination and deep drive to take care of things on her own. He wanted to protect her before she ended up just like him, before she became too hardened to the world to be able to love anything in it. And when the man had put a gun to her head…

The man wasn’t living then, not after that. Joel had already wanted him dead for trying to take you but you’d have tried to talk him out of it and he may have let you. But after he threatened Ellie? There was no forgiveness for that. Not when he’d threatened both of you. 

“You should get some sleep,” Joel said quietly, squeezing your hand. 

“I’m comfortable where I am,” you said softly, squeezing back. 

“You’re gonna wake up in an hour and you’re not gonna be able to fall back asleep,” he said.  

“So worried about your wife,” you smiled a little, your eyes still closed. Joel sighed. “What? I’m just saying, most men at least ask a lady first…” 

“Yeah well,” he shrugged even though you couldn’t see it. “Maybe I will ask one day.” 

“Waiting to see what options are on the table wherever Tommy’s living?” You asked, still smiling a bit. 

“Figured if I ever asked I should do it right,” he said gruffly. “Been waitin’ for it long enough. Lie down before you end up sleep deprived.” 

“Fine,” you signed, not bothering to go for a sleeping bag and putting your head on Joel’s lap. “Wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.” 

He didn’t answer. He just rested a hand on your side, feeling your breathing shift as you fell asleep. 

Ellie hadn’t been too far off in her wish for a close town. It only took three hours of walking the next day before houses started to crop up alongside the road, in little clusters. Then there was a church, a small subdivision made up of maybe 10 houses, a grocery store. 

“Oh man, if they have Spaghetti-Os or Chef Boyardee…” Ellie said, walking faster than she had in days for the store. 

“Hold on,” Joel grabbed her by the backpack and put her behind him, his gun and flashlight out. “We’ve never been here, gotta take a look around first before you go in and grab whatever you’d like…” 

You took your gun out, too, and kept Ellie tucked safely in between you and Joel. But the store was empty, clearly had been for a while. The shelves had been somewhat picked over, but it didn’t look like many people had been here since the outbreak. 

“We must be off the beaten path,” you said, tucking your gun into the waistband of your pants and starting to examine what food there was on the shelves. 

“Dibs!” Ellie reached to the back of the shelf and pulled out a can of ravioli.

“All yours, gremlin,” you smiled. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

Stocked up on food, you went to the pharmacy and Joel pried the gate up enough for you to clamber over the counter and into the back. 

“There was a leak back here,” you called. “But still have some usable stuff…” 

You came back with a few bottles of medication and a notebook. 

“What’s that?” Joel frowned. 

“The emergency information booklet,” you said, setting on the counter and climbing back over. You opened the booklet and shined your flashlight down at it. “Here we go, we are in scenic Curtis, Nebraska.” 

“Nebraska,” Ellie nodded slowly. 

“Just one state away from Wyoming,” you said. “Just hope Curtis is on some maps. Speaking of, we should make sure we grab some maps…” 

The three of you made your way through town, Joel in the lead, Ellie behind, you at the back. But there was no one. 

It didn’t take long to find why. In the middle of the small downtown was a pile of bodies, the skeletons charred. Everyone had been wiped out early. Infected would have bypassed quickly with no one to spread it to and being so far from everything meant that it was likely no one had been here in years. Joel put his gun away. 

“Fucking FEDRA,” Ellie muttered, bypassing the pile, barely looking at it. Joel waited for you, your eyes glued to the bodies, your arms crossed tightly over yourself. He pulled you against him and kissed your temple before continuing on. 

It didn’t take long to find one of the few hotels in town, an extended stay place. 

Joel pried the automatic door to the lobby open and quickly looked around, but it didn’t look like anyone had been here in a while either. There was a rack of brochures near the door and he grabbed a map. Ellie picked up an ad for a local attraction, frowning as she looked it over. 

“Did people really go to shit like the Museum of American Dollhouses?” She asked, holding up the brochure. 

“No,” Joel said. You laughed. 

“Not really,” you amended. “But apparently enough people did.” 

“Weird,” she put it back, looking around the lobby some more. She jumped the check in desk, ignoring your exasperated “Ellie” as she did. She rifled around, pulling out a pile of room keys. 

“What are these?” She asked, turning one over in her fingers. 

“They unlock the hotel room doors,” you said. “But only once they’re programmed to so they’ll be useless for us. Is there some kind of room list back there?” 

She frowned, rifling around for a moment before finding a packet of paper and holding it up. You took it. 

“OK,” you said, looking over it. “It looks like there are some two bedroom things on the ground floor, rooms 121, 123 and 125.” You looked at Joel. “There are doors.” 

He half smiled at you and led the way to the rooms. 

They were in relatively good shape, the beds still made from the day of the outbreak. The hotel had been fairly new when everything went to shit and it was too far from anything major to be bombed, so it had held up fairly well. No signs of leaks, windows were intact. Ellie staked her claim to a bedroom, throwing her arms out wide and falling back onto the bed. 

“I’m never leaving again,” she said. 

“You can’t eat ravioli in there,” you called at her from the small kitchenette. 

“I will leave one time,” she said. “But then never again!” 

Joel barricaded the main door once night fell, Ellie going to curl up in her room fairly early. 

“Do me a favor and keep it down,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “Because… gross.” 

“Be extra loud,” you said, Joel’s arm around your shoulders as you sat against him on the couch. “Got it.” 

“Ugh,” she closed the door. You giggled. 

Joel looked down at you. 

“You mentioned a door,” he said. 

“I did,” you nodded. “Specifically that one, over there.” 

Joel nodded for a moment. 

“Think we should take a closer look at what’s behind it.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, mischievous. “Why’s that?” 

“I swear if you don’t let me inside you…” he nipped at your ear. 

You giggled. 

“Let’s see what’s behind the door.” 

Joel had never been happier about the existence of a piece of fucking wood. The second the door was closed, your arms went around his neck and your lips were on his own. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight to him, your breasts pressing against him, your hips already trying to grind against him. He groaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours, sliding over your teeth, trying to get to as much of you as he could reach. 

He always fucking wanted you. That was a damn near constant in his life, had been for more than 20 years. Even for the years he thought you were dead - easily the bleakest of his life - when he dreamed of you, it almost always involved fucking you. The feeling of being inside of you, becoming a part of you in the way that he constantly ached to be, the deep satisfaction of having you as close as anyone could get. Even when he just dreamed about talking with you, it was almost always soaked in sex. Naked with you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your limbs twisted with his own, your hair wound around his fingers. The best conversations of his life had been with you, naked and vulnerable and shut off from the world. He’d longed for that more than he did your body. 

But the want he had for you now was different. It was its own snarling, groping thing inside of him, always reaching for you. It had been screaming for satisfaction since you were pulled away from him more than a week ago. He needed to feel you around him. Needed to be deep inside of you, so deep that there was no question in his mind that you were safe and whole and his. He needed to be so close to you that fucking no one could take you away from him. 

Joel pulled your shirt over your head and immediately unhooked your bra, taking that off you, too. You tugged as his shirt and he helped you pull it over his head as he pressed you backwards, until your legs were against the bed. He kissed from your mouth, over your jaw to your throat, your skin salty from sweat and dirt and he wanted to devour you. 

“Want you,” you said, your nails digging into the exposed skin of his back. “Fuck, want you inside me…” 

“Far past wantin’ you,” he said, his lips on your collarbone. He unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them, along with your underwear, down your body. He nudged you down on the bed and your hands flew to his jeans, opening them, tugging the fabric over his aching cock and down until it was in a pile in the floor. You gripped his shaft, running your thumb over his already dripping head before spreading it down over him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes before you leaned forward and took him in your mouth. Just the tip of him at first, your tongue wrapping around him, making him moan as you pressed it into him. 

“Fuck, Baby,” he groaned, slipping a hand into your hair. “Fuck, your mouth…” 

You moaned, taking more of him into you, sucking him, your tongue pressing into the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his cock until his head was at the back of your throat, your lips wrapped around the base of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations in your throat going straight to his tip, damn near knocking him off his feet as he stood between your legs. You started bobbing up and down his thick shaft, sliding him almost all the way out of your wet, hot, soft mouth so just the tip of him remained between your lips before taking him all the way into your throat again.

You moved a bit faster with every stroke, taking him harder into you each time, his head making you choke as he filled you. Your hands held his thighs, trying to pull him as deep as you possibly could, making his knees go weak. 

“Don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he managed, through gritted teeth, trying to think of something - anything - besides just how warm and wet your tongue was. “Fuck Baby, need inside you, need…” 

You took him deep in your mouth and moaned, more forcefully this time, sending the vibrations from your throat straight to his cock. He groaned, pulling your head back from him forcefully. You panted for breath and wiped your mouth on the back of your wrist. 

“Tryin’ to make me cum before I get to fuck you?” He asked, leaning over you. You crawled back on the bed and he followed, grabbing your ankle and holding you still. 

“Not on purpose,” you smiled a little, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Find that hard to believe,” he spread your legs and settled between them, his fingers running over your slit. You were fucking dripping wet. 

“This all from sucking me off?” He breathed. You nodded. “Fucking hell…” 

He kissed you, rubbing your wetness over his shaft, pressing you down into the mattress. He pressed himself against your tight, grasping hole and held your hips in place before he thrust into you in one sharp motion. Your back arched as he met your back wall, your channel already starting to flutter around him. 

“Fuck Baby,” he groaned into your mouth, giving your tight heat a moment to get adjusted to his intrusion. 

It didn’t matter how many times he’d had you, he’d never get tired of fucking you. It would never get old. You felt to goddamn good, your body molding to him, gripping him tight but soft, your whole being stretching over him. He could feel your body making room for him inside of you, your walls pushed apart while your hips pressed up into him, desperate for it. 

He’d never felt anything like being inside you, the overwhelming physical sensation of it alone would be enough to ruin him for anyone else. Nothing felt as good as you, fucking nothing, your tight core gripping him so well it almost hurt. He filled you so perfectly it was the closest he came to believing in God. He was made to do this with you, there was no other way to understand it, explain it. His body was built to fit into yours, to wrap around yours while you were around him. 

That would have been enough. It would have been more than enough. But looking in your eyes when he was inside you, the feeling that he’d never been this close to another person and never would be again, never wanted to be this close to anyone but you. The idea that he could see inside you, to all the parts of you he coveted most, that he could know you in a way no one else could and that you could see him in that way, too. 

It was a fucking miracle he didn’t cum the second he was inside you. 

“Joel,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his own as you spoke. “Fuck… I need…” You closed your eyes for a moment, he could see your throat work as you swallowed. “I need you to move, I need… fuck, too much…” 

He kissed you softly as he pulled back from you slowly, dragging his swollen head along your inner walls, feeling every tender ridge of you before thrusting back in, earning him a delicious little groan. He kissed down your jaw to the side of your neck as he increased his pace, your hips rising to meet his as your body tightened around him. You pressed your face into his shoulder with a whimper as his cock drove all the way to the back of you, pressing against the mouth of your womb.

“Fuck,” you panted, kissing his shoulder. “About to… Joel I’m going to cum, I can’t… Fuck!” 

You came. Hard. Your walls rippling over him with such force it made his hips stutter over you, desperate little whimpers slipping from your lips as your body milked him. 

“Taking me so fucking well,” he managed as he fucked you through your orgasm. You moaned, sounding on the verge of tears below him, his hips slamming against yours with almost bruising strength. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, so fucking good…” 

It seemed like you wanted to say something but couldn’t manage it. He thrust all the way inside you, his own orgasm so fucking close but not ready to leave your body yet. He pushed back from you, his cock still buried in you to the root as he looked to where he became a part of you. You were stretched tight over him, your lower lips swollen. 

“Look so fucking pretty with me inside you,” he breathed, looping an arm below your leg and pulling your calf up to his shoulder. He pressed a kiss into the muscle there, making you moan, and he leaned over you with your leg still tight against his chest. You groaned a little as your body adjusted and he held himself inside you. But he knew you felt the angle difference, your eyes searching his own as the moonlight filtered in through the window. Your pussy tightened even more around him. 

“Joel,” your voice was raw, achey. “I love you… want you… need you deep, need to feel you as close as I can…” 

“I know Baby,” he said, pressing his hips down, able to go even deeper from this angle, your back arching, your whole body tensed like a band ready to snap. “Fuck, you’re incredible, fucking incredible…” 

He started fucking down into you then, pulling out only as far as necessary to thrust all the way back into you as your pussy gripped him tight. 

“Want to cum with you,” he panted, his arms caging your head as he took you, the moonlight casting shadows on your face. “How…” 

“I’m close,” you managed, panting for breath. “Fuck, just… my neck and keep…” 

He pressed his cock into you harder, faster and pressed his mouth against your throat, finding the spot he knew where you were most sensitive at the same time as his cock pushed as far into you as something could go and you came around him, your pussy throbbing over his shaft sending him over the edge. He sank as far into you as he could reach, the whole of him buried deep inside you as he came, emptying himself into you until he went slack on top of you, his cock still buried within you. 

Joel rolled onto his side, taking you with him, the leg that had been pressed to his chest hitching over his hip as he started to soften inside you. He took your face in his hand, his fingertips dipping into your hair. You pressed your lips into his palm as you caught your breath, your eyes searching his own. 

He smiled a little. 

“What?” You whispered. 

“I fucking love doors.”

A/N: I know, no cliffhanger this time, just our lil' family being a lil' family (and Joel and Doc fucking each other's brains out. As you do.)

I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added! I try to add everyone I see but if I've missed you, please comment again. If you're on the list below but not getting alerts, it's because Tumblr is being mean and won't functionally let me tag everyone. I've left everyone on the list hoping that will magically change but alas, here we are.

Thank you for being here and for reading this and following along! I'm not sure when we'll get another chapter quite like this one - probably not for a hot minute? It's going to get real plot heavy as we get to Jackson so may as well enjoy it while we can!

Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 9 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

After solving the ongoing case at that archaic village, Kate and I boarded the train back to London.

From outside the window, twilight dyed the sky.

Beautiful scenery and a peaceful time. Yet what I remembered after the case settled was…

Roger: Pfft, haha. The look on that guy’s face when you slipped out of his arms was a masterpiece.

~~ Flashback ~~

Spirit God: If you don’t want this woman to be killed, forget everything you saw in this village!

That way, I can live as a god again.

The man who was revered as a god delivered that ridiculous announcement and wrapped an arm around Kate’s neck.

I think I was the only one smiling while everyone around turned pale at Kate’ predicament.

(...I could easily save you, but you don’t need it)

(Since you said you “wanted to be strong”)

(Come on, Kate—You can get yourself out of this despair)

Roger: …

Kate blinked and then smiled as if accepting my provocation— 

~~ End flashback ~~

Kate: Heh, hehe…

Wait, why am I laughing. I thought I was about to die.

Kate glared at me cutely, but I just smiled and propped myself up against the windowsill. 

Roger: Sorry, sorry. But the way you handled self-defense techniques honestly had me impressed. Not to mention you secretly studying medicine. So Kate, close your eyes.

Kate: …Don’t do anything weird, okay?

When Kate closed her eyes, I pulled “that” out of my pocket.

And then I put it around Kate’s neck.

Roger: You can open your eyes now.

Kate: This is…

Decorating Kate’s neck was a choker so delicate and lovely that I couldn’t help but smile. 

Roger: A collar of course. You’ve now been promoted from dogsbody to pet. Congrats.

Kate: Thank you! This is a cute collar…Hm, collar? Wait, didn’t I tell you to stop treating me like a dog?

(...You’re so cute. Even when you’re glaring or pouting, it’s all cute)

—Lately, I’ve been finding a lot of things more enjoyable.

It’s been pretty obvious since I started spending time with Kate.

By following the “robin growth map”, I’ll guide Kate to becoming a strong woman.

In return, Kate will teach me about romantic feelings and prove to me that love exists.

Our relationship started off as an exchange, but Kate’s existence seemed to take root in my everyday life.

(Kate, I have fun being with you)

(It’s like I’ve gone back to being a clueless kid again…But)

I know that this isn’t what Kate would call “romantic feelings”.

(I wonder if I’ll come to understand it if I continue spending time with Kate. Romantic feelings aren’t something that can be scientifically proven)

As I thought about this, Kate suddenly spoke up.

Kate: Roger, um…Can I get one more reward?

Roger: Oh, that’s rare coming from someone who tends to be reserved. Go ahead and say it.

Kate: The more time we spend together, the more I wonder why you chose to be with Crown. And then I start to wonder what you’re even researching at this point. That’s why, I want to know the reason why…

(...Ah, I see)

People drew boundaries.

The moment you crossed that boundary, your relationship changed.

(So the lil’ lady’s ready to get closer to me)

Roger: Are you asking as my exclusive Fairytale Keeper, or for your own personal interest?

It was like I asked “are you sure” as a final warning. Kate looked me straight in the eyes.

Kate: …Probably both. Still, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, like a past you don’t want to talk about. If you don’t want to, then we can forget…

With her intentions clear—Kate crossed that boundary.

Roger: Pfft, haha. You really are a sincere one. Sure, I got nothing to hide. Summarizing it would be a pain, so hope you don’t mind a long story.

Kate: I don’t mind. Please tell me about you, Roger.

There was a look of lust or curiosity in her challenging gaze…And it caused some unfamiliar emotion to stir inside me.

It felt like what Kate would calle “love”.

Roger: In that case, let me tell you a story for our ride back to London.

—Unlike the train that’s moving us forward, I uncovered memories that took us back into the past.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Natural Born Killer (Ghost/Reader)

CW: Murder, Implied DV, Blood, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Cunillingus, Mild Choking, Cheating on a Murdered Boyfriend

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 3.7k

The car rumbled as we drove across a dirt road. All we’d seen were trees and grass for the past half hour. Maybe a flock of sheep or two. Ahead, the sun was setting over the horizon, turning the sky a cotton candy color. I looked over at the gas meter. Nearly empty. I curled my knees up to my chest, praying for the first time in years that we’d find a place to fill up. 

The smell of stagnant tobacco filled my nostrils. I never liked it when he smoked in the car, but it wasn’t worth the fight tonight. Despite his refusal of a map, he was already agitated that we’d gotten off track. 

“Hey, look at that,” my boyfriend pointed to the road. In the distance was a run-down shack of sorts. The tin roof was rusted. The shutters were falling off of the windows. I pursed my lips, swallowing my judgment. It was either stop and ask for gas, or risk spending a night in the freezing cold. 

The hum of the engine came to an abrupt stop as he pulled the key from the ignition. I watched as he quickly stepped out of the car. With a sigh, I unbuckled my seatbelt and followed. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked around the car. 

He had already stepped up to the front porch by the time I stepped forward. 

“James!” I said in a hushed voice. He shook his hand, dismissing me. I crossed my arms over my chest, glancing around at the piles of rubbish that adorned the gravel plot. James rapped his knuckles against the front door.

A large clatter drew my attention. Standing at the door was a tall, imposing blonde man. He wore jeans, worn and ragged around the knees. His biceps were covered in black ink, indescribable from my distance. I watched as he looked my boyfriend up and down. 

“What d’ye want,” he asked with a grunt. 

“We, uh, ran out of gas. Do you happen to have any?” I could tell by the break in his voice that James was intimidated. I watched as he slipped his hands into his pocket, shifting onto the balls of his feet, and back again.

“Got a jerry can somewhere,” the man responded. 

“Perfect! And do you care if I use your bathroom?” James added. The man simply grunted and stepped aside. James disappeared inside of the house. 

My eyes widened as the man’s gaze settled on me. I watched as he picked up a Jerry can from the front porch and slowly stalked over to the car. His face was marred with scar tissue. White streaks adorned his cheeks in a sort of Glasgow smile. Over his brow was another. He glanced at me with his deep blue eyes.

“Americans? What’re you doing out here?” He asked as he flipped open the fuel cap. 

“Vacation,” I stated simply, glancing up at the front door. 

“Vacation here? In the middle of nowhere?” The man laughed as he began filling the car up. 

“He didn’t want to use a map. We were trying to go to Inverness,” I explained. 

“You’re about two hours out,” he huffed. “Good luck getting back without a map.”

I sighed and leaned my back against the car. It was already getting cold enough that my sweatshirt wasn’t even enough to keep the chills off of my skin. I couldn’t imagine what sleeping in a car would feel like. 

“Thanks again, man.” I glanced up at James, who was sticking his hand out for the Brit. With nothing but a grunt, he kept filling up the tank. 

The man pulled back and screwed the gas cap back in. 

“You need to turn around. Nothing up here but trees and dirt.” He said, stepping forward. The gasoline gently sloshed as he moved. 

“You got it,” James said as he pulled his keys from his pocket. Suddenly he leaned in, pushing my shoulder. “You talk to him?” He asked, gritting his teeth. 

“Friendly banter, not a big deal,” I mumbled, looking out across the dirt road. The sun was almost completely gone. The sky darkened with every passing minute. 

“Fuckin’ told you not to go talking up other men, didn’t I.” He took another step forward. I flinched, bringing my arms up to my face. He grumbled, muttering something under his breath. I watched as he spun on his heel and started towards the driver's side door. With a sigh and internal words of encouragement, I stepped into the passenger seat, closing the door behind me. 

The engine started to life. I gave one last glance to the run-down shed as we pulled out into the road, heading back to where we came from. The headlights were turned on, illuminating the dirt road ahead of us. 

We were twenty minutes down the road. The soft chirping of crickets filling my ears. Rocks cracked underneath the tires as we rolled down the road. 

The car jolted abruptly with a loud bang. I sighed, knowing one of our tires had blown. I glanced back at the trunk, silently thanking whatever deity that we had a spare, even if the salesman was a bit pushy about it. 

We rolled to a stop. Muttering under his breath, James shifted into park and pulled off his seatbelt. He stepped out onto the road, slamming the door behind him. I sighed and pulled out my phone from my pocket. In the depths of the Scottish wilderness, I didn’t have a single bar of service. 

Glancing up, I watched as James backed away from the tire, scratching his head. A glint of silver caught my eye from behind him. 

In one swift motion, an axe embedded itself in the side of his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, pulsing with the beat of his heart. He let out a gargling scream, blood flooding his larynx. His eyes, once vibrant, glazed over as he fell limp to the ground. With a creak, the axe was pulled back from his head. I watched as another glint of silver caught the headlights. Another swift chop, another squelching noise. I screamed, quickly throwing off my seatbelt. I clamored out of the car and took off into the woods, dodging brush and branches. From the corner of my eye, I saw a masked figure slowly stalking toward me. 

I grunted as sharp brambles sliced my arm. I pushed the pain to the back of my head, along with the burning in my lungs. Each thud of my foot shot a jolt of pain up my knees. I hadn’t run this far in a while. 

The moonlight was shadowed by the thick canopy above. I held my arms out, pushing past tree trunk after tree trunk. I glanced over my shoulder and squinted, praying he wasn’t following. 

Pain blossomed in my brow as I rebounded off of a tree. With a muffled groan, I landed on the forest floor amongst a pile of pine needles. 

Arms wrapped around my body, holding me still. A hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the scream I let out. I writhed against the man, thrashing my legs about and sinking my teeth into his hand. He cursed, pulling his arms away from me. I lurched forward, breaking out into another sprint, however I was stopped. Fingers held onto my ankles, dragging me in. My legs stilled under the force of his grip. 

“I’m not going to fuckin’ hurt you-” the man sputtered. 

I froze. The voice was familiar. My heart pounded in my ears, the swooshing of blood drowning out every other sound. It was the man from earlier, donning a mask now.

I glanced over my shoulder. I was met with the same deep blue eyes I’d seen earlier. Without any resistance from me, he dragged my body closer. His clothes, black, had dark spots, blood. His mask and the skull plate that was sewn to it were splattered in red. 

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, pushing his hands away. 

“I saw the way you flinched. Heard what he said,” he responded. Cautiously, he reached his hand out. I glanced down, watching as he rested his hand atop my knee. “Bears’ll come by and snatch up his body. No need to worry about cleanup.”

“Thank you.” The words spilled out of me. It felt wrong to thank him. Wrong to validate a murderer. But part of me felt as if I would’ve ended up in James' position. A corpse on the side of the road. 

Without another word, he stood, holding out his hand for me. 

He parked my car behind his house. Its exterior was deceiving to say the least. The interior was cozy, insulated from the cold outside. I watched as he stood in the kitchen. His hair was dripping wet from the shower he’d taken. 

The smell of citrus and bergamot permeated my senses. The patches of dirt that coated my skin were now long gone down the drain. He dressed me in a pair of sweats, far too big for me. I sat on his couch, waiting for him to bring out some food. Perogies, he said. Perfect for a chilly night like tonight.

He stepped forward, holding out a plate for me. Without a word, I took the food from him, nodding my head in a silent display of gratitude. The couch shifted as he sat beside me. 

I glanced at his hand. The skin of his thumb was scarred, marred with deep teeth marks. I reached out, gently grabbing his hand and lifting it. I brushed my thumb along the mark. He winced, pulling his hand away from me. 

Without another word, I began eating the meal he’d made for me. I snuck glances at him through the corner of my eye. He shifted, nursing the can of beer in his hand. I flinched, feeling his fingers graze against my arm. He pushed up the sleeve of my shirt over my shoulder. My gaze followed his, landing on my shoulder. A mauve-colored bruise blossomed on my skin. 

His fingers gently grasped my wrist, slowly turning my arm. On the inside of my forearm was another bruise, this time a color between green and yellow. He frowned, gently stroking over the old bruise with his thumb. 

My jaw went slack as a pair of hands roughly wrapped around my neck, squeezing tight. With every second of air taken, I felt the vessels in my face burst. I reached out, pushing my thumbs into his eye sockets. His face was burned into my retinas. A singed vision that shone through the haze. He faded to white, pains swelling behind my eyes. 

I awoke with a jolt, clutching at my throat. I kicked off the blankets. I quickly glanced around the room. My gaze flicked from the bookcase to the nightstand, to the window. Sitting back onto my calves, I sighed, chest heaving as I strived to catch my breath. 

The bedroom door creaked open. Brown eyes flicked over my sweaty frame. I couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. Instead, I stared at the man, lips parted. He spun, slowly stalking toward the door. Without thinking, I spoke. 

“Sir. I’m really sorry to ask, but could you stay with me?”

With only a nod, he stepped forward. If it were anyone else, I would’ve been intimidated by the way he looked down on me. His brown eyes were nearly pitch black in the low lighting. He seemed stiff. And with his stature, it seemed natural to feel scared. Any hesitancy broke as I watched him slip below the covers. He laid on his back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t spare me even a glance.

I couldn’t help but stare at his face, illuminated in the moonlight. Faint traces of scars lay across his temples. Just thick enough to notice. On his neck were sparse patches of razor bumps. Specks of red across his fair skin. I shifted onto my side, pushing the blanket down my shoulders with my elbow.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Even in the dim lighting, I could tell when a dusty pink blush had settled on his cheeks. I reached out, gently placing my hand on his biceps. I traced my index finger along scar tissue, running up and down a thick, linear cut. He turned his head away from me. I could feel his chest rise abruptly and feel the way his breath hitched when I touched him. My fingers slid up his biceps, to his shoulder, and across his clavicle. He rolled over, facing me. 

My heart pounded in my ears. Heat rose to my cheeks as he extended his hand. His palm rested on my hip. His fingers curled underneath the hem of my shirt. And then he let go, choosing to slide up my side, over my shoulder, and to my cheek. His movements were slow as if he was letting his fingers feel every inch of my side. 

The pad of his thumb stroked my cheek. His other fingers carded through the hair at the base of my neck. I watched as his deep brown eyes flicked from my eyes to my lips, and back up again. He leaned in closer. His hot breath fanned over my face. I closed the distance, pressing my lips to his. 

His lips were chapped. Jagged bits of dried skin poked my lips. I sighed against his lips and leaned in closer. His hand slid to the small of my back. He pulled me closer. My chest was pushed flush against his. Warmth emanated from his body. I slid my arm over his side, basking in the feeling of his heated skin. 

His lips moved to my cheek and down my jaw. Opening my eyes, I watched as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my pants. His hand stilled, almost as if asking for permission. I placed my hand on his wrist, gently pushing him to continue. 

He gently sunk his teeth into my neck. A pounding heartbeat grew in the pit of my stomach. My skin grew heated as my arousal overtook me. I gasped as his tongue lapped against his teeth marks. He skidded the palm of his hand across my bare hip, sliding underneath my sweats. 

Without a word, he threw my leg over his hip, giving him better access to my core. I shuddered, burying my face in the crook of his neck as I felt his index finger swipe against my clit. He began slowly circling my clit, teeth sinking into my shoulder. My hips jolted, thighs quivering against his body. He chuckled, sliding two fingers up and down my core. My breath caught in my chest as he sunk the digits inside me. 

“There you go. Open up for me,” he mumbled next to my ear. I clenched around his fingers, feeling a rush of heat in my cheeks. He steadily began thrusting his fingers, brushing his thumb against my clit. I whined against his neck as he curled his fingers. I clenched my fist in his shirt, tugging tightly at the material. My breath hitched, growing unsteady with every twitch and stroke of his fingers. My core tightened as he slowly inched me toward my climax. My grip on his shirt grew bruising. The seams creaked as I pulled him close. Drool spilled from the corner of my parted lips. My thighs trembled as I drew further and further into my pleasure. 

“Come on, cum on my fingers.” His voice was barely a whisper. The deep rasping words rattled in his chest. With a couple more thrusts and a swipe against my sensitive clit, my muscles began to tense and jerk. My toes curled, and my eyes squeezed shut as he slowly rocked me through my orgasm. The thrust of his fingers slowed and then stilled. He pressed his lips to my sweaty cheek, easing me out of the haze that had taken over my limbs. 

By the time my vision had gone back into focus, he was holding me close, looking down at me with his dark eyes. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while…” I said, looking away to hide the embarrassment on my face. 

He pushed me onto my back. I stared up at him with wide eyes, watching as he settled between my legs. My hips jolted as he roughly tugged my sweats down. His eyes darkened as he laid his sights on my bare body. I held my hand up by my mouth, hiding the way my lips trembled. He hooked his arms underneath my thighs and slung them over his shoulders. I could feel the heat from his breath brushing over my cunt. 

A sharp pain drew my attention. He sunk his teeth into my inner thigh, then gently licked over his teeth marks. Inching closer, he pressed a kiss to my skin. On my other leg, his fingers slowly trailed up my skin, toward my core. 

I watched as he kissed across my stomach, gently and methodically, before dipping down and brushing his tongue against my clit. My back arched up off of the mattress. The palm of my hand muffled a moan rising from my throat. He rapidly flicked his tongue against my clit, moaning into my cunt. I gripped onto his short blonde hair, tugging hard at the strands. He wrapped his lips around my clit and began to harshly suck. My fingers went limp. My grasp on his hair faded as he pushed me closer to a second orgasm.  

And suddenly he stopped. With a whine, I watched as he shifted onto his knees. He eased the waistband of his pants over his hips. My eyes fixated on every inch of bare skin he revealed. His cock sprung free from its confines, already flushed and leaking. I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel inside me. A burning heat rose to my cheeks as he stepped out of his pants and slowly crawled toward me. He settled between my thighs and began gently caressing my thighs. His brown eyes were locked onto my half-naked body. 

“You want it?” He asked, moving his hand to his cock. I watched as he slowly stroked himself.

“Please,” I mumbled. 

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” He chuckled, “taste good too.”

He pushed my knees back against my chest. Using his hand, he guided his cock to my entrance. Gently pushing in. I closed my eyes. My jaw went slack as I felt him slowly sink inside me. He inched forward, gripping my waist tightly. I couldn’t help but notice how full I felt, and the slight burning in my tendons as he folded me in half. 

His hips stilled as he bottomed out. He reached up, pushing my shirt over my chest. I gasped when his lips wrapped around one of my nipples. My ankles crossed behind his back, keeping him close to me. He propped himself up on his hands, brown eyes flicking over my body. I whined as he began slowly rocking his hips back and forth. 

One of his hands moved to my throat. His fingers gently pressed on my carotid arteries. The pressure wasn’t overbearing, but a reminder that he was in control. 

His pace was rough, deep, and slow. He took the time to get to feel every inch of my insides. I could already feel a haze settling over my thoughts, deepening with every thrust. I looked up at him with unfocused eyes, biting down on my lip to conceal a whimper. 

“Tell me you like it,” he grunted, thrusting his hips forward. 

My response was an incoherent stream of praises, punctuated with whines. He smirked and began tightening his hold on my neck. My brows furrowed, lips forming an o shape in a silent cry.

His pace increased. The mattress began creaking with every jolt of my body. And then the pressure around my neck subsided. He let go, instead opting to grip my hip with a bruising strength. 

He leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses to my neck, and grunting against my skin. I gripped his biceps and whined as he sunk his teeth into my neck. 

“Fuckin’ squeezing me.” He groaned as he ran his tongue across my bruised neck. 

“Harder” I choked out. His pupils dilated, turning his deep brown eyes nearly black. I could feel his cock twitch inside me. 

He shifted to his knees and brought both of his hands to my hips. With every thrust of his hips, he pulled my body back onto his cock. I gripped the pillow behind my head as a barrage of moans flooded my mouth. My back arched off of the mattress, and my breath grew ragged and erratic. He cursed under his breath, teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip. 

I thrashed as I reached my climax. My stomach tightened, clenching around his cock as he rocked me through my orgasm. A flash of cold washed over my body, followed by pins and needles pricking my limbs. I went limp in his grasp.

After a couple of arrhythmic thrusts of his hips, he came, flooding me with warmth. His breath hitched, nails digging deep into my skin as he came down from his climax. 

With another jolt of the mattress, he laid down beside me. His chest heaved as he strived to catch his breath. I turned onto my side, pressing my back into his sweaty chest. He laid his arm over my waist, keeping me close. I chuckled as he began pressing kisses to my neck. 

Somehow the absurdity of the situation had just set in. I’d slept with the man who murdered my boyfriend. Brushing off the thoughts that swirled through my head, I placed my hand over his, sighing as I closed my eyes. 

“The name’s Simon, by the way,” he spoke up, breaking the silence that fell between us. 

“Oh, so now you tell me…”

[1ovede1uxe]

07. judgement┊ ┊⋆ beyond the stars

synopsis - you've been sent to join the joestar crew on their mission to defeat dio by... dio? y/n is an undercover stand user who joins the sdc to report back to dio their findings and notes about their stands, up until a few moral dilemmas get in the way of your original mission.

ch. synopsis - sweet moments with the gang(tm).

tw // mention of guns

The map image is inaccurate, I just picked a spot in the Red Sea lol oops

After traversing the rest of the desert, we boarded a small motorboat to cross the red sea. Following some hours of sailing and casual chatter, you redirected your focus to Dio as you reached out to him. Every time you opened your chat with him, it was hard, especially rereading the message about your captive mother. Despite growing close to the Crusaders, you remained determined to keep her safe, persisting with your mission.

After sending your text, Jotaro's comment drew your attention back to the group. "Hey old man, something's wrong. You're going in the wrong direction, aren't we supposed to go West towards Egypt?" Mr. Joestar seemed focused, not responding. "Old Man! You're headed for that island!" Jotaro raised his voice.

"Ah, that's right, I can't tell you why, but there's someone I want to meet before we head to Egypt. This man is very important to our journey."

After docking and disembarking, you wandered, taking in the surroundings. Seagulls called in the distance, and palm trees swayed. It seemed peaceful, almost too peaceful for the Crusaders. Knowing Judgement would arrive in the next few days, you felt a nervous tension. "Is it true people live here? It's so small and looks deserted." Kakyoin said, sharing a side glance with you. You seemed nervous, but not for the reasons the Crusaders thought. "Hey, Hey... someone's watching us from the grass," Jotaro stated, calling attention to a pair of eyes peaking through. The figure stood up and darted away. "That figure looks familiar!" Kakyoin added as the mysterious man ran away. You didn't recognize his face; this was not Judgement's user. Curious, you all followed. Hens clucked in the distance. As you approached a small house with a fenced-in yard, you saw the man with powdered white hair feeding five chickens.

"It can't be!" Polnareff cried. "That hairstyle, could it be?" Kakyoin replied. Even Jotaro had a look of surprise.

"I'll go talk to him; you wait here," Mr. Joestar commanded, holding the rest of you back. "My name is Joseph Joestar. I'm traveling to Egypt with these three- er uh- four people," he introduced himself. You remained confused.

"I won't listen, go away!" The mysterious man bellowed, not even bothering to face you all. "Do not talk to me. Whenever people visit me, they never bring me good news! It's always bad!" The man spun around and revealed his face. "I do not want to listen! Go away!" He commanded.

Polnareff's look of shock quickly became mixed with guilt and grief.

"Avdol..." Jotaro mumbled to himself.

Mr. Joestar explained the man who bears a spitting resemblance to their dearly departed friend. Remorse decorated Polnareff's face.

"Avdol's death wasn't your fault."

"No. It's my responsibility; I have to carry that burden."

Polnareff fled to be alone as Kakyoin and Mr. Joestar continued their discussion.

"Hey Jotaro, what exactly happened, what's going on?" You asked in a hushed tone. You half understood from Hol's perspective, which was very much biased, but you wanted the full story. He explained how the Emperor and the Hanged Man disrupted their journey and caused the loss of their dear friend.

You really felt for Polnareff, having begun to grow close to him, or as much as you could have over the week and a half you've spent with the Crusaders. You knew guilt for a few fleeting moments and you knew that he would do anything to get Avdol back, just as you had done everything you could by giving your life to Dio for your mother. Mr. Joestar entered the abode Avdol's father fled to, and Kakyoin rejoined you and Jotaro.

"Do you think Polnareff will be okay?" You asked, feeling genuine care and concern for the man. Not only was he dealing with emotional turmoil, but also Judgement was on the loose, and thanks to you, Dio knows right where to send him. "I think he'll be alright" Kakyoin reassured you, putting a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to offer some kind of comfort. Jotaro nodded in agreement, then followed the path his grandfather took.

"I want to go check on Polnareff." You said to Kakyoin. He grinned to himself at your kind gesture. "Go ahead, come meet us back here alone, though."

"Um, alright." You said, weary of why they wouldn't want Polnareff with them. You approached the shore of the beach to where Polnareff sat pondering. "Hey, are you doing alright?" You asked, taking a seat on the adjacent rock. "Even if it was to avenge my sister's death, I still let Avdol die." He moped.

"You didn't mean for it to happen. It really isn't your fault." You reassured. "But I do get where you're coming from." Polnareff looks at you with curiosity. You explained your story to him, dancing around the middle of your full story in your head.

"I'm glad at least someone understands vaguely." Polnareff tells you the story of his sister, and the battle with J. Geil. You sigh to yourself (I can't believe I'm doing this) and wrap Polnareff in a hug. He embraces it almost immediately. "It's going to be fine...I think." You joke and half smile.

As the sun set during your chat, golden hour had reached you both. "Hey, what's that?" Polnareff points out a glimmering object in the sand. You both walk over to it, and he picks it up. "It looks like gold, I wonder if it drifted from a sunken ship."

"Can you dust the barnacles off it?" Polnareff begins to rub and scrape at the lamp. It glows and he tosses it, a stand emerging, causing a shriek in surprise from the frenchman.

This must be Judgement.

"You get three, tell me three things you desire and I'll make them come true!" He bellowed. Polnareff began to question Cameo, which is what he called himself. "You fake! Are you saying you can make me a very rich man right now?" Polnareff questioned. You decided to have fun in the moment, just to test the waters. "Oh, bring back Lil' Bush!"

"Ugh I miss that show." Polnareff comments

"You- you mean the show with the little kid who is George Bush? He's not president anymore. How would that even work?"

"Don't care, want another season." Polnareff laughed along with you at the joke. "Polnareff has summoned me so I will grant his wish." Judgement said, slightly annoyed with you, giving you a look of ‘I’m telling Lord Dio on you.’ "Hail 2 U!" He bellowed and retreated to the lamp.

"That was weird, why didn't he attack us?" You questioned.

"We should watch ourselves. Something is on this island, we should tell Mr. Joestar." You nod in agreement and begin to head back towards the others, only to discover a half buried treasure chest, overflowing with gold and precious jewels. Polnareff knelt down to investigate. "y/n, this is gold from the Napoleonic era, this isn't an illusion and it can't be a dream. This is real treasure!"

Cameo appeared once more, asking for a second wish. You darted off to go tell the other crusaders after Polnareff's quick nod approval. You entered the house where Avdol's father and the crusaders resided. Rushing through the door, you interrupted chatter and laughter amongst the four of the men. "Mr. Joestar! There's a stand with Polnareff and-"

A younger Avdol's father stood amongst the group. "(y/n), there's someone I'd like for you to meet. This isn't Avdol's father. This is the Muhammed Avdol. Avdol, this is (y/n), the newest member of our little group." Your world was flipped for a moment. I have to text Hol and Mariah about this. You stood there, silent for a second, gears churning. You quickly responded with a bow, "It's an honor to meet you sir, I've heard plenty of great things about you."

"And I've heard plenty of you." Avdol replied to you. You honestly grew nervous, remembering you made a reference about him being dead to join the group. Would they kick you with the Magician back? "All good things I hope?" Avdol glanced around the circle and stayed on Kakyoin for a moment, then replied firmly "Good things. Now, what's this about a stand and Polnareff on this island?"

"Oh, I almost completely forgot. There's this stand Cameo, which is the Judgement card's representative and it apparently can grant wishes. Polnareff sent me to get you guys and let you know, we should hurry back to him." You felt a sense of urgency to return to Polnareff, not only upon intuition, but out of anxiety for someone you hope you can call a true friend, especially after your trauma-dump/bonding moment earlier.

You all rushed back to where Polnareff found the treasure earlier. "They were here before I came to you, they must've moved. Lets split up to look for him." You grew nervous, not knowing anything about the stand, beside it being a borderline genie.

Each crusader went in a different direction, on the hunt for Polnareff. You darted to a tall grassy area closer to the center of the island, an open plane lit only by the moon. Armed with only the gun you had made with the light a week prior, you creeped around prepared to shoot. The grass rustled and your heart rate increased. You didn't have the crusaders to watch your back.

Yes, you had a gun, but you didn't know where the user was, nor the extent of Cameo's power. As your heart rate rose, you felt a chill as the rustling got louder. You headed towards a wooded area, which the tall grass bordered, wanting to get away from the rustling and also a place to hide if needed. Perhaps you could climb a tree to see above the field. As you reached the edge of the plain, you called "Polnareff?" praying for his answer.

Something took a step behind you, crushing the leaves behind you. Driven by anxiety and adrenaline, you instantly spun around and cocked the pistol. Instead of Polnareff or Cameo behind you, you found Kakyoin, who had been searching there prior.

"Woah, woah, it's just me," Kakyoin said, his hands raised in surrender. You let out a relieved sigh, lowering your weapon. "Thank god. Any luck so far?"

"Nothing yet. I was thinking of following Avdol's trail, which Jotaro is doing now, but I wanted to find you first and make sure you were fine."

"Oh, uh, thank you." You replied awkwardly. "But I've got the protection I need." You twirled the pistol around your finger, attempting to look cool. Forgetting it was cocked, the pistol ended up firing into the ground, the shot echoing, and birds from above flew up and out. "Uh huh." Kakyoin raised one eyebrow at you. "Anyways, let's catch up with the others." You blurted out, feeling a bit embarrassed.

As you both strolled under the full moon, a rare, comfortable silence enveloped you. After realizing how long you had been surveying the seemingly endless field of tall grass, you called attention to it. "Uh, Kakyoin?"

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"Do you know where the others actually are?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because we've been taking an awful long time to reach the opposite end of this field."

"Is that so bad?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe I thought we could spend a little more time together." Kakyoin turned to look at you, his eyes shining that brilliant violet he only got when sharing a moment with you. You got goosebumps, and a light pink shade dusted your cheeks at the statement. Returning to your senses, you ask "Is this really the best time?" You raised a good question for yourself with this, surpassing the current circumstance.

Was it a good time to be pursuing romance at all? Also Polnareff is literally missing right now I need to focus. Or do I let him stay missing? This is all so confusing.

"Avdol located Polnareff, and he wanted to be the one to go find and be with Polnareff; I'm giving him his space to do so."

"Um, alright." The comfortable silence was now tense, calling attention to Kakyoin's interest in getting to spend time with you. The tension eased as you grew used to each other’s presence and soft breaths. "The moon is beautiful this evening, isn't it?" He mentioned, attempting to ease the tension. He glanced upwards, then to you.

"Yes, I suppose it is." You smiled. He stopped for a moment to just gaze up at the moon. Once you adjusted your gaze to stare at the lunar beauty, he found his eyes wandering back to you. Kakyoin's heart was pounding, nervous about what to do next. Despite being unsure of himself, he took your hand softly, bringing your attention back to him. "Let's continue," he said softly. You adjusted your grip to meet his own, feeling the warmth of the moment between you two.

Is this allowed?

Your hand in his felt comforting to you both, but pumped you with adrenaline as he began to trace circles on the back of your hand, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. You began to ask about Avdol's situation, as well as for what purpose they needed to keep him being alive a secret from Polnareff as a way to keep cool (and keep the blush from rising to your face). The conversation evolved from Avdol to yourselves. You shared your former passions and he talked about his love of art. As you exchanged personal tales, shared passions and vulnerability intertwined, smiles decorating both of your faces as you shared your life stories with another.

Is this okay? You thought as the conversation eased, unsure if growing so close with the so-called enemy was something you could do. His subtle smiles exchanged and the lingering touch spoke a language of their own to you.

As you continued to ramble back and forth with each other, the orange glow of a fire suddenly burst towards the other end of the grassy field, that seemed to stretch to the end of the island. As it commanded both of your attention instantly, Kakyoin’s relaxed smile fell to a tense face of concern. As the mood shifted, you both ran towards the flame.

You hear a cry from Cameo. “Impossible! You should be dead!” As you approached the two, Mr. Joestar suddenly appeared at your side gripping your shoulder, bringing you to a grinding halt. Noticing that you weren’t beside him anymore, Kakyoin turned back to you both.

“Let Avdol handle it, okay?” His voice, gruff yet soft, guided the three of you to observe from a safe distance as Cameo, Polnareff, and Avdol grappled with the mysterious situation. A burst of flames enveloped Cameo, toasting him. A small grin plastered Mr. Joestar's face, knowing his friend was back. "Let's head back to the shore and get ready to go, now that we have Avdol," Mr. Joestar suggested as Polnareff and Avdol shared what can be described as a uh, bonding moment.

Jotaro waited on the shore for all of you and you all stood around for a few moments quietly. At the shore, a quiet moment ensued, interrupted by Polnareff's jubilant emergence from the grass, wearing the biggest smile you had ever seen. "Guess who I just ran into!" he exclaimed, initiating an enthusiastic musical performance, "Da, DaDaDa, Da, Da, Da, Daaaaa!" to unveil Avdol.

“Well then, let’s go.” Mr. Joestar said nonchalantly. The rest of the group began to catch up with Avdol as they were before. Polnareff began to yell at the rest of you in shock about how Avdol came back from the dead. Mr. Joestar then explained that he lied about Avdol being alive. “It was all just an act?!” Polnareff lamented.

Amidst the unfolding events, you found yourself once again lost in contemplation. Although your mission tied you to Dio, the camaraderie and unexpected adventures and the secret third thing with Kakyoin with the group stirred a sense of conflicting loyalty. I know I'm here to report for Dio, but there's nothing wrong with having a little fun in the process, I suppose, you mused internally. Rationalizing that Dio's fading foresight focused solely on an intuitive connection with the Joestars, you reassured yourself, "I'm not disobeying, technically. Which hopefully also means Mom's safety."

Interrupting your thoughts, Kakyoin turned back to you, signaling to rejoin the group as they approached the shoreline. "It's almost here! Come on and let’s go!" Mr. Joestar called out. Both you and Polnareff stood dumbfounded as a submarine emerged. "A submarine?! You actually bought this?!" Polnareff exclaimed, echoing the incredulity shared by the group.

“Seriously. Where are you guys getting this stuff?”

You all boarded. Now safe within an unbreachable submarine, you began to cruise northwest towards Egypt.

previous chapter // next chapter // masterlist

I hope someone gets the “JoJo's abridged" reference tee hee. I finally got this out before the end of January! I hope you're enjoying so far. My mom's health is significantly better, and I'm adjusting to my new uni schedule so I hopefully should be able to be updating more. I also have intentions to go back ands edit some of the first chapters. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Also, are y'all liking slightly silly Dio? I'm still trying to figure out how to write him. Taglist is open <;3

taglist: @kerto-p @pancakesyrupthief

[naranjapetrificada]

Astrology is fake but in honor of the beginning of Leo Season, I want to revist this "Stede Bonnet is a Leo king" meta I wrote a year ago almost to the day. Because of course it was written before season 2, but season 2 only underlined my previous points.

Season 2 Stede doesn't have any of the trappings of his old life that would make his Leo status seem obvious anymore. His fancy clothes are at the bottom of the sea, his hair is still great but clearly not as sculpted as it was before, and his beautiful, luxurious, good vibes ship has been stripped of its finery (and its freedom). But he's still a fucking Leo, dammit, and he still acts like it.

I should start with a reminder that I'm a Leo, and anything that associates Stede Bonnet's positive traits feels a little self-aggrandizing, but also as a Leo I'm comfortable practicing radical acceptance about it. Which is all to preface the first season 2 Stede trait I wanted to bring up: Leos can be some of the most romantic fuckers alive.

In the old meta I talk about Stede's generosity of spirit and desire for the people around him to be happy. That coupled with his sunny optimism and the irrepressible way that he loves what he loves (once he figures out that it's love) was always gonna put him at DEFCON 1 levels of romantic hero behavior.

Ed fell in love with him when he wasn't even trying, so of course a Stede who is trying is gonna be writing love letters in bottles and throwing them into the sea DAILY. Of course he was gonna fill the maps he drew on the back of Ed's wanted posters with sketches of his beloved's face and little lines of poetry and manifest good energy by circling "alive" and crossing out "dead". Of course he was gonna say "I love your chin" and "I love everything about you", two of the most heartstoppingly romantic statements I've ever heard (and objectively what Ed needed to hear at the time).

His leadership skills also develop further, and in ways that seem relevant to that Leo meta. He's radically kind, even to the people who it looks like killed the only man he's ever loved, including a certain angry little nightmare creature who tried to get him killed multiple times. In that unimaginable moment he said no, I'm going to save these people because they're my crew, and then plans and leads them through a truly effective escape strategy.

(His other plan, the one in the finale, goes off without a hitch except for Izzy getting shot. But. Izzy should have searched the hostage right? Just trying to get ahead of that argument against Stede's leadership skills.)

Thankfully Ed survives, and they have that "be the captain" scene which is at its heart about performance, another thing theatrically inclined Leos excel at. Stede goes on to perform the role of acolyte to make Izzy feel included and like a mentor. And I will die on this hill but it is a performance, something Stede knows going into it. Stede never needs to learn the old way of piracy and specifically thrives in the absence of it.

(I also 100% believe both that Stede was telling a truth when he told Izzy he had no memory of their duel and also that he knew that saying he didn't remember was the bitchiest thing to do, and so did it for his own amusement. It's like how light can be measured as both a particle and a wave, okay?)

I won't rehash everything I said in the old meta about his generosity as a Leo trait, but I did want to point out something that occurred to me. Unless I'm misremembering, the crew has gotten new outfits by the first time we see them in s2e4, but we don't see Stede in something new until he finds the red suit (which of course he adores and absolutely slays in). Costume changes are always heavily symbolic on this show, but I feel like the simple fact of the crew getting improved clothes before Stede does (the red suit that he discards for their sake, and his slutty look for Calypso's Birthday) also means something.

The things we adore about Stede Bonnet have a lot of overlap with traits and behaviors that are associated with Leos, and I continue to suspect that despite astrology being fake, there was at least one Astrology Gay in the writers room who was at least aware of the vibes. And in honor of Leo Season, may we all go out there and try to be kinder, braver, and more loving. May we all think about the spaces we're in and try to make them a little freer. May we all try our best to go out and spread a little sunshine in the world that so desperately needs it.

[sweetjulieapples]

"Dear Commander" - Chapter Ten: The Things You Find In Ferelden

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The Herald and her companions search The Hinterlands and things get a little heated in Haven.

The screams became distant and the explosions that echoed in the valley gave way to the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Birds sang sweet melodies and trees rustled with a gentle breeze. It was incredible how untouched and peaceful this little pocket of land had remained amongst the chaos of war.

Dorian was the first to break the silence of the group as they trudged up the mountain. “I must admit, Cassandra, I've never heard of these ‘Seekers of Truth’."

“ Why would you?” Cassandra replied. She was walking a little further ahead of the others and didn’t bother to face Dorian when she spoke. “ They do not exist in Tevinter.”

“But what are they? Some manner of super-Templar? Is this one of those Southern secrets, like proper hygiene?” Dorian and Juliette exchanged a grin and they waited for Cassandra to react.

A faint grunt of frustration could be heard before she answered, “Once, we worked from the shadows, monitoring Templars and mages alike.”

“Ah. That clearly worked out well.”

“Dorian!”, Juliette said under her breath with a gasp. He just smiled, proudly.

“Your glibness does you no credit,” Cassandra muttered and began to walk faster. “The Mage Rebellion was beyond even our power to control.”

“Good job, Tevinter! Now she’s shot off even faster. I’m struggling to keep up as it is.” Juliette whined.

“You’ll live, Lady Herald,” he smirked.

“That’s it! I’m pulling the dwarf card,” Varric said, jogging ahead. “Hey, Seeker! Wanna slow it down for those of us with shorter legs?”

Juliette’s smile lingered while she watched Varric and Cassandra move further ahead. She faced Dorian, seeing a long awaited opportunity. “Dorian?” she spoke quietly.

“Ooh, hushed whispers,” he replied with excitement. “What, pray tell, secrets has our Herald to share?”

“None. I wanted to ask something of you?”

“I’m listening.”

“Could you, by chance, happen to help me… fight?” Juliette cringed, awkwardly.

“Aren’t you already training?”

“Yeah,” Juliette scoffed. “With one of Cullen’s friends. An ex-Templar teaching a mage combat? It’s just not right.”

“Cullen has friends?” Dorian asked dramatically. “You are correct, that is not right.”

Juliette playfully shoved his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean. “ She drew in a deep breath and continued walking ahead. “I just feel like I’ve been set up for failure. It’s magic that I should be fighting with. I tried asking Solas for advice…” She looked up at Dorian and a faint smile swept cross her face. “Well, I stopped listening after a while.”

“Hmm,” he thought out loud, drawing out the humming noise.

“Oh, come on! I’ve seen how you…” She waved her hands around, mimicking his moves. “What you do with your staff - it’s mesmerizing!”

“Brilliance just can’t be taught!”

“Oh, please Dorian!”

“Oh, those puppy eyes, Herald!” He mocked, stepping closer to her. He reached his hand to her head and gently pulled out a twig that was tangled in her hair. Juliette’s eyes widened with surprise when she noticed what he was doing. “You’re adorable. I was almost convinced to help you.”

Following the map that Leliana had marked, the group arrived at the top of the hill. Before them, a lake shimmered like a sheet of glass in the afternoon sun. The area seemed uninhabited , save for a small, run-down cabin just off the lake.

“I can hear voices,” Cassandra said, reaching for her sword. “This must be the spot.”

As they drew closer, they witnessed what seemed to be soldiers training.

“Remember how to carry your shield. You’re not hiding, you're holding.”

Cassandra looked to Juliette as though inviting her to act. She nodded to Cassandra and drew in a deep breath. “Blackwall!” she called out. “Warden Blackwall?”

The man spun around in an instant and charged towards Juliette, sword drawn. “You’re not…” he snapped hastily. He hesitated and lowered his sword once looking at her. “How do you know my —”

The sudden whistle of arrows soaring through the air halted his words and with precise movement, he lifted his shield, catching the arrows that narrowly missed the Herald’s face. Juliette released a high pitched gasp, startled by the noise. Emerging behind the trees were several men, archers and swordsmen alike.

“That’s it!” he yelled at her. “Help or get out! We’re dealing with these idiots first!”

Barely a moment had passed when Cassandra tore past them, out for blood. Juliette retreated , moving towards Dorian with her staff in hand. She watched in awe as Blackwall effortlessly cut men down with a single swing of his sword. “I wasn’t here to fight!” he screamed out above the noise. Focusing on the outer edges of the battle zone, Juliette channeled weak bursts of flame from her staff.

“Alright, I’ll oblige.” Dorian yelled to Juliette. “For a circle trained mage, you’re quite shit at magic aren’t you?”

“You don’t think I already know that?!” she called back to him, not once taking her eyes off the fight.

“Practice over theory. Follow my lead!” Dorian moved forward, crouching in a stealth position. With a sway to the left, he swung his staff into the back of the head of a mercenary. Before the man could react, Juliette attacked him, copying Dorian’s move perfectly. That second whack to the head had him out cold. She squealed in surprise, unable to believe what she had just done. “That’s it!” Dorian shouted. “Now, this!” He moved from side to side, twisting his staff at the wrists.

“It’s like dancing!” Juliette said, beaming with a smile. She was conjuring controlled fireballs with precise accuracy!

“But better, yes?” Dorian grinned. As their attacker’s clothing went up in flames, Dorian threw his head back and laughed manically. “I could do this all day!”

Emerging from the smoke, Blackwall pierced his sword into the ground and knelt beside the final man to fall. “Sorry Bastards.” Juliette quickly adjusted her coat and smoothed back her hair, sweeping off ash. She walked over just as Blackwall had finished dismissing the men that he was training. She heard the very last of his orders; “Go back to your families - you’ve saved yourselves.” Immediately, he turned his attention back to Juliette. “You’re no farmer. How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I know your name because I’m an agent of The Inquisition.” She placed her hands on her hips, feeling a surge of confidence after the fight. Gaining control over her magic in such a way was exhilarating! “ I’m rather curious about the disappearance of the Wardens and how that could potentially coincide with the murder of The Divine.”

Blackwall began to pace back and forth while she talked. She couldn’t tell if he was nervous or just agitated. Either way, their sudden appearance had taken him by surprise. “Makers balls!” he shouted with a gruff voice. His lack of formality was refreshing. “The Wardens and The Divine, that can’t …no.” He stared at Juliette with piercing eyes. They looked grey, with hints of blue and she thought that they were beautiful as much as they were intimidating. The lines around his eyes deepened as he inspected her closer. “No. You’re asking so you don’t really know.” He had called her bluff, yet she still stood with bravado. “We disappear , that’s what we do. Job done, gone, right?”

“You tell me. You’re The Warden,” she replied.

“No Warden killed The Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.”

“Slow down, I’m not accusing you…not yet anyway.” She looked around, grasping at straws mentally to plan her next move. “Where’s the rest of you?”

“I haven’t seen any Warden for months. I travel alone, recruiting.”

“Oh, alone.” Juliette looked over and Cassandra hoping for some kind of reassurance that she was handling this properly. Instead, The Seeker eyed Blackwall intensely, hand hovering above her sword. Juliette continued, “Seems a rather lonely place to be training conscripts.”

“There’s no blight, no need to properly train.”

“Then why bother. Why are you out here?”

Blackwall pointed to the bodies lying in the grass. “These idiots forced this fight, so I conscripted their victims. Next time, they won’t need me.”

“Rather heroic.” The sarcastic compliment bounced off him like sunlight to armor.

“Grey Wardens can inspire. Make you better than you think you are.”

Something clicked. He spoke with such self-righteousness that it had reminded her of an Enchanter she once knew. Talented yet self-assured to a fault. Juliette hesitated a moment, weighing up her options and wondering if this new idea that flashed into her mind was worth the risk. She tilted her head to the side and lowered her voice. “Why haven’t you gone missing like the rest of them?”

“Well, maybe I was going to.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

He held his stare, intense and unwavering. A small smile tugged at Juliette’s lips. “Do you go around interrogating all men that you find wandering Ferelden?” he asked her, his serious expression beginning to soften.

“Only the ones with impressive swordsmanship. Though I wonder, what could I do with you ?”

“My job was to recruit on my own. I planed to stay that way for months. Years.”

Juliette clasped her hands together. “Well, thank you, Warden Blackwall.” She stepped closer and leaned towards him. With barely more than a whisper she asked, “now where does this leave us?” With knitted brows, Blackwall watched her walk away.

“Inquisition!” he shouted. Juliette stopped and began to smirk. “Agent, did you say?”

She turned around and asked smugly, “Yes, Warden Blackwall?”

“Hold a moment!” He hurried towards her. “The Divine’s dead, the sky is torn…events like these…thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved.”

“You are absent though, are you not?”

“No. I don’t have to be. Maybe you need a Warden, maybe you need me.”

“You are but one Grey Warden. What could you do for me?” she folded her arms and smiled, awaiting his response.

“Save the fucking world if pressed.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she stifled laughter. If only he knew that he was speaking to The Herald of Andraste. Perhaps, she was begging to think, that he’d speak to her just the same if he had known.

“Maybe this isn’t a blight but it’s bloody well a disaster,” he added.

“As I am well aware. Tell me, have you any tales of demons falling from the sky? Slain heroically by your hand?” There was a playful glint in her eye when she spoke. “Is that something you’re experienced in?”

“No, but tell me who is?”

She laughed abruptly at the question. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She extended her unmarked hand. “Warden Blackwall, The Inquisition accepts your offer.”

“Good to hear.” He met her handshake before she turned to walk once again. “This Warden walks with the Inquisition.”

“And The Herald of Andraste, it seems.”

With his hands on his hips and a squint to his eyes, Master Dennet looked up at the breach in the sky. “Maker! It’s worse than I thought!” He turned back to Cullen, who was standing by him at the stable. “I hope you lot can close it.”

“As do I,” Cullen replied. “Aside from the breach, how are you finding Haven?”

“It’s groaning under the weight,” Dennet replied bluntly. “It wasn't built for this. But we'll make it serve.”

“That we will. I’ll see to it,” Cullen said, proudly. He looked to the horses. “These are a fine addition to our stables.”

“I hope it’s enough for The Herald.”

Cullen chuckled, “She’ll be pleased, I assure you.”

“After what she’s done for Ferelden, it’s an honor to be in her service.” Cullen smiled at Dennet’s remark. “Also, your men, Commander. I applaud their hard work on the watchtowers.”

“Thank you,” Cullen replied.

“It does feel good to be back at work,” Dennet said, picking up a bucket and resuming his duties. “I hope to speak with The Herald when she returns, to thank her myself.”

“I’ll send her your way at her earliest convenience,” Cullen nodded and began to walk away. You’ll be seeing her here a lot, no doubt, Cullen thought to himself with a smile.

Towards the end of the afternoon’s drills, Cullen allowed his lieutenant to take over. He had already heard that the Herald and accompanying party were approaching and was ready to slip away to greet them. The sound of The Lieutenant’s voice began to dull as Cullen’s focus drifted. A wistful smile tugged at his lips with the thought of Juliette’s reaction to seeing a full stable for the first time. She’d be so happy.

By the time that Cullen had started to approach The Herald at the gates, a small crowd had gathered to greet her. He froze in his tracks when he saw a man walk to the side of Juliette’s horse and offered her his hand, as Cullen had done himself just a week earlier.

Juliette shook her head and with a soft giggle said, “I’m quite capable of dismounting a horse, you know.”

Blackwall responded with rich laughter. “I know, believe me. Although I don’t want The Herald of Andraste to think that I’m no gentleman.”

Dorian stood beside Cullen, looking highly amused. “It appears that this time you are too late, Commander.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Cullen mumbled.

“No, of course not,” Dorian grinned. “Tell me. Have you read my report?”

Cullen groaned in frustration. “Can you try not to embellish the truth in official documents, Dorian?”

“Everything that I said was true, Commander. Including the part where our lovely Lady Herald’s doe eyes sparkled in the sunlight —”

“And the Warden fell to his knees?” Cullen let out a short, mirthless chuckle, his eyes rolling slightly as he shook his head. “I feared for a moment that your report somehow became mixed with Varric’s.”

“No, it did really happen! She just walked right up to him in the midst of battle.” Dorian smirked and spoke dramatically, “It was fascinating to watch!”

Cullen straightened his posture and quietly cleared his throat as Juliette walked towards them. “Good afternoon, Herald,” he said with a nod of his head.

Juliette smiled sweetly. Cullen was relieved to find her in a good mood for a change. “Hello, Commander…Oh!” she gasped with wide eyes at the sight behind him. Cullen’s face lit up with a smile. Her reaction was just as he expected. He slowly waved his hand in the direction of the stables with a knowing smirk. She looked at him, her face aglow with excitement. “When?” she asked, her voice soft and breathy.

“Yesterday,” Cullen replied. “Master Dennet is eager to speak with you, I believe.”

“I shant keep him waiting!” she exclaimed.

Cullen watched as she hurried towards the stables, dodging workers and pilgrims that stood in her path. His smile faltered when he noticed Dorian looking at him closely with folded arms and raised eyebrows.

“You can leave now,” Cullen muttered before walking away himself.

The wind was strong that night at Haven. From inside Juliette’s cabin, the sound was a constant low rumble causing the timber walls to creak with each gust. The slow burning flame of the fireplace flickered light across the room as Juliette thrashed about in the middle of a nightmare.

I can hear it. The clang of armor. Templars aren’t hard to miss.

“Jonathan?” my voice is croaky and faint. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you in the dining hall?”

He’s just standing and staring. It’s frightening me!

“Jon?”

He takes a seat on the bench beside me. I’m terrified that they’ll see us!

“I’m sorry,” his voice is sad and regretful.

“What do you mean?”

He grabs my hands and again his voice over and over “I’m sorry.”

I’m standing, stepping away. “Why are you sorry? What have you done?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jonathan?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” Tears are falling and my nose is tingling. My mind is racing and my breath…it’s…

I can’t breathe!

Rustling in the corner, light shining through cracks in the wall! A boy is crouched.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” My voice is screeching, hurting my own ears.

He’s wearing a hat that is too big. Nobody wears hats here! His face is sunken, darkness under his eyes. He looks like death.

The stranger is scaring me!

“The pain in your eyes hurt him more than the blade.”

The boy has faded, his words still haunting.

The metallic rasp of a sword unsheathed. A cold blade against my neck.

“I’m sorry.”

Juliette woke to the sound of her own screams. Shaking, she brought her fingertips to her neck and traced a line where the blade once rested.

The next morning, Cullen stood still amongst the lively field of sparring recruits. His eyes caught a glimpse of Juliette leaving the gate. She dragged her feet through the snow and in her hand she carelessly hauled an Inquisition shield. Her head was down as she walked, her shoulders slumped. She looked up, squinting and swatting snow from her eyes. Their gaze met for just a heartbeat before he turned away, leaving Cullen with lingering embarrassment. He didn’t mean to stare. She dropped the shield to the ground and made her way towards him.

When Cullen looked back up he noticed her weaving past the soldiers, almost falling over as she dodged their violent movements. His instinct was to lunge forward and grab her. Pull her out of harm’s way. Normally he’d reprimand anyone who’d walk into the training zone out of respect for his soldiers and the person endangering themself. He couldn’t speak that way to The Herald. He let her go.

It wasn’t long before she stood before him, her face blank of emotion. He wanted nothing more than to ask her if she was alright. Everything about her appearance suggested otherwise. He knew all too well the look of a person lacking sleep. He feared that when speaking to her he’d reveal too much. Dorian’s smug attitude the day prior had him acting cautiously.

“Is there anything I should know?” she asked flatly.

“Not at the present,” Cullen replied, a tone to match hers. They held eye contact as the buzz of sparring and wind circled around them. Juliette blinked then turned, stomping back to the shield that she had earlier tossed aside. “Another time then?” he muttered with a sigh.

The training session with The Lieutenant didn’t last long that day. Juliette stumbled and groaned her way through the drills. Her attitude was starting to irritate both Cassandra and The Lieutenant.

“You’re not even trying!” he snapped, shoving her backwards.

“I’m tired of running in circles!” she yelled. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“It’s about discipline, something they clearly don’t teach in Ostwick.”

“I’m done!” she growled. “Take your stupid sword!” she hurled it towards the ground.

“Pick it up!” he commanded.

“No, I’ve had enough. I’m not a soldier.”

“But you are, Herald,” he shouted. “You go out there and you fight! You need to know how to do it properly, lives are in your hands!”

“Then why are you insisting I use a sword?” she tugged at her hair in frustration. By this point, Cullen had heard the shouting and walked over to see what was happening. Cassandra glared with folded arms. “Tell me, Lieutenant! When am I ever going to need to use one? For the love of Andraste, I’m a mage!” She turned to Cassandra and Cullen and yelled, “When will you people get that through your thick skulls. I’m not a Templar!”

“Herald!” Cassandra scolded.

Juliette ignored her and continued, ”I should be practicing with a staff and an experienced mage! Bring me Dorian or Solas! Oh, you know, you have probably the best Enchanter in all of Thedas sitting on her arse in the Chantry doing nothing!” He voice was begging to break and she was pushing back tears.

Cassandra looked to Cullen, “Do you want to step in?”

“Me?” he asked with confusion. “I…I doubt she’ll take orders from me.”

“Herald!” Cassandra shouted again. “You need to calm dow—”

Everyone froze at the sudden sound of flames erupting as they engulfed a nearby training dummy. Through blurry eyes, Juliette watched in shock while it fell a part , the fire extinguishing in a hiss as it crashed into the snow. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she massaged the fingers of her right hand with her thumb in disbelief. It had been a very long time since she had conjured fire without the aid of an instrument to channel it properly. With rapid breaths, she turned around to witness The Lieutenant and surrounding soldiers eyeing her suspiciously, swords in their hands at the ready. She looked to Cassandra who had stood gawking with her mouth open and then Cullen. He was staring at her, intensely with narrow eyes. He gripped his sword tightly.

“Drop your weapons! Now!” Cassandra screamed. She aggressively threw her arm towards the tents and The Lieutenant obeyed her gesture to leave. Juliette and Cullen held their gaze, both frozen in shock. “Commander!” Cassandra said firmly. He was the only person to still have his sword drawn.

Standing between the two, she first looked to Juliette, noticing the way that she shook with each breath. Both her and Cullen looked terrified. Cassandra slowly approached Cullen and gently placed her hand on the fur that sat atop his shoulder. “Cullen,” she said, this time with a much more gentle tone to her voice. He didn’t respond, instead holding his unwavering gaze. Slowly, Cassandra pried the sword from his hand and stepped back. “There’s no danger,” she softly spoke. His eyes snapped to Cassandra and he looked down to his sword that was now in her hands. Without saying a word, Cullen turned and walked away.

[tiptapricot]

Hey just a PSA but the writer of City of the Dead is a Jewish man who has been upfront about how uncomfortable it makes him that people keep trying to insist that he's writing catholic guilt.

I know that David Pepose is Jewish, but that doesn’t impact the criticism of his depictions.

I don’t think anyone should be attacking his identity or his authenticity as a Jewish man, but that is different from criticizing his writing and the undertones and out of character takes in his portrayal, as well as the pieces it glosses over and doesn’t include. His experience is valid and enough, but it is not the same as the system’s and it does not make him immune from creating things with harmful or inaccurate tones for them. We’ve seen this already with some inaccuracies in his Black White and Blood issue to the more orthodox childhood of the system (saying they went to Hebrew school despite that being very unlikely for them to have done).

My critiques of his depiction of their Judaism as well as others I’ve seen and discussed with people were not trying to say it was writing the system as Catholic, but saying the way Marc was written and the way his guilt was portrayed was out of character and very much lined up with the Christian/Catholic ideas of punishment and suffering to atone for wrongdoing. That’s in the text and can be easily gleaned from it.

The current context around it also doesn’t add more exploration besides “I did bad and I’m so guilty I must punish myself and that’s why I do what I do.” In fact the context that is there makes things weirder by having Marc seemingly be even more spiritually inclined/favorable to Khonshu than he has been in the past.

It’s just a mixed bag of “this is not how this character should be acting and has uncomfortable undertones” whether they were intended or not doesn’t change that. Criticizing what Pepose hs written for Marc does not mean saying his experience is less authentic, just that he wrote something off for the character and things don’t map on one to one.

As far as his responses to the critique of this handling, that’s where this gets more complicated. Besides discussions and dissections here on tumblr, the only conversations/reactions on Twitter I’m aware of are below with peoples names other than Pepose’s crossed out as to not give them further exposure past their interactions with him.

I do believe there’s been a lot of miscommunication and bad faith responses on his part. I understand wanting to clarify when something drawn from personal experience is read differently, I get that people saying he wrote guilt with a Catholic vibe when maybe he drew it from himself is uncomfortable, but again, that doesn’t impact the critique and more context is needed to change where things sit currently. But it’s just a funky and strange situation in general.

(This following response involves a different user than the previous talking to Pepose. The original person left no more responses and said nothing else than what is shown above)

This is all I’ve seen on him responding to the subject, and later Pepose blocked both posters in this thread from what I’ve heard. This is the extent of their interactions with him.

Overall I think saying the handling of Marc’s Judaism in this first issue is weird and off is a fair criticism/observation to make. I don’t think it was intentional or there was any malice behind it, but it does show a lack of understanding of the character of Marc Spector, and was tied to a multitude of other problems throughout this first issue (like as we see above with a misunderstanding/mishandling already of the system’s DID and plurality). And I think people can also be upset about that if they are.

Again I understand being uncomfortable, but issues are still allowed to be pointed out and there is still room to mess up when writing characters from your own community. Fair criticism to how something reads is not the same as personally attacking someone’s identity. And it shouldn’t be, but I genuinely don’t think anyone I’ve seen here so far has been doing that.

Though with all of this I am a non-Jew discussing things I’ve talked about with my Jewish friends, so please please if you want more in depth and explanatory posts on this topic, as well as how Pepose has been handling MK (most of which I am drawing from and the discussions with have informed my stuff here) you should check out @fdelopera as they’ve made many dissections on the topic as a Jewish MK fan! And they can speak on this topic much more in depth and with much more awareness and information than I can.

Some very relevant posts to this is their dissection of why Marc’s spirituality and handling so far is an issue and very funky and an examination of the Jewish themes in MacKay’s writing.

But those are my overall thoughts as well as continued clarification on my points on the topic so I hope I articulated things well!

(ID in ALT for all)

[centralperkchenford]

Part 2 of Chenford + Heatwave and someone finding out about them.

I didn’t want to drag this on too long, so I just added some people finding out. Also I think Smitty leaving the report open on a desk is something he would 100% do. Anyway! I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this one!

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing (Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling)

Tim is dreading going into work, it’s not like he’s embarrassed (okay he is embarrassed- but Smitty came to his house on a noise complaint. Brought on by Lucy screaming in pleasure which was his fault). He glances over at Lucy who is sleeping soundly and then at his clock. 6:00am. Two more hours and they would have to be at work. He sighs and gets out of bed. Maybe Smitty was so horrified by what he saw and realized that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Tim drops his head between his legs because who is he kidding? Smitty would tell everybody. The man wasn’t the smartest, but he sure liked to talk.

Tim gets up and gets ready quietly, and then he nudges Lucy out of bed.

“Luce. You have to get ready for work.” He whispers and then he kisses her on the cheek gently. She stirs and opens her eyes blearily. “Why? I’m comfy.” She mumbles and tries to turn away from him but he stops her.

“Come on babe time to face the day!” He says a little too brightly and she glares at him but rolls out of bed. As she does the shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of her thighs which still bear his marks. He grins at that. He loves knowing she walks around with little reminders that he was worshipping her body the night before.

Lucy gets ready quickly and Tim makes them coffee, he’s pouring hers into a thermos when he realizes they need to talk about what happened last night.

“So about last night..” he says a little awkwardly (he really doesn’t know how to bring up Smitty and sex in the same sentence). “Um so everyone probably knows.. what do you want to do?”

Lucy freezes and turns to look at him, she has a deer in the headlights look.

“You think Smitty ran back to the station and told everyone?” She asks. He gives her an incredulous look.

“Luce it’s Smitty of course he did.”

But Lucy shakes her head. “I don’t think so Tim. You really think he ran back to the station and told everyone that he got a noise complaint at his sergeant’s house. And what would he say? That the noise complaint was because said sergeant was making his girlfriend scream dur-”

Tim holds up his hands to stop her. “I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t ever want Smitty, you and sex in the same sentence. Ever.”

Lucy looks at him in amusement. “Baby. I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure nobody knows.” She says shrugging her shoulders and she reaches up to kiss him.

Tim stares at her in fond exasperation. “You are too trusting Luce. What if he did-?”

Lucy places her hands on his chest, and plays with his shirt. “Then we will deal with it Tim.”

Tim nods but he still feels uneasy about this (and still slightly mortified).

Tim avoids Smitty at work or he tries to avoid Smitty at work. But the man is like a parasite that just won’t leave.

“Bradford!” Tim turns in his chair to see Smitty hurrying towards him. He has a wide grin on his face and he’s holding a piece of paper.

“What do you want Smitty?” Tim growls at him. Smitty isn’t deterred though in fact Tim’s tone just makes him grin even bigger.

“I’m filling out the report from last night at your house-” he begins but Tim cuts him off quickly.

“Why? It was just a noise complaint? And it turned out to be nothing.”

“I thought you were by the book.” Smitty says. “I need to file this.”

Tim rolls his eyes because when has Smitty ever cared about filling paperwork?

“Okay and what’s your question Officer Smitty.” He asks and he crosses his arms across his chest.

“What do I say it’s for? I mean maybe it was screams of pleasure?”

Tim closes his eyes and he really wishes the ground would open up and swallow him up.

Just .. I don’t know Smitty.” He says dryly. “Just don’t let it get out.”

Smitty grins at him, and writes something down on the piece of paper.

“Don’t worry Sergeant Bradford your secret is safe with me.” He taps his head with the pen and Tim relaxes a little. Maybe Lucy is right maybe there is no need to worry.

The relief Tim was feeling doesn’t last long, Angela finds out because Smitty left the report open on his desk. And of course she just had to read it. She comes over to Tim and she’s grinning so big that Tim thinks her face must hurt.

“So you got the police called on you last night? She asks and he looks at her and then goes back to work.

“What?” He says acting like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“Smitty left one of his reports open on his desk and well..” She says gleefully. And he drops his pen and turns to look at her again. Damnit Smitty

“So you got a noise complaint hmm? I didn’t know you were dating anyone. Let alone Lucy. Angela says and Tim knows she’s enjoying this. He’s also silently cursing Smitty for naming names in his report.

He sighs loudly and runs his hands down his face before saying. “Look it was hot and I opened the window and then I forgot it was open. And then-”

Angela holds up her hands. “No. I don’t want to know about the sex part.” She shudders briefly. “I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were dating Lucy.”

Tim’s mouth hung open a little. He closes it quickly. “It wasn’t anything personal Angela. We just wanted to make sure it was serious before we started telling everyone.”

“And is it serious?” She asks. Tim can’t help the smile that breaks across his face.

“Yes it is.” He says simply. He wouldn’t tell Angela this yet but Lucy was it for him. She was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Good.” Angela says and she starts to walk away to leave. “Just try not to leave your windows open anymore.”

Tim groans and he hears Angela cackling as she walks away.

Nyla found out because of course Angela told her. She just mumbled something about never needing to anything about Tim’s sex life. Tim is going to kill Smitty and then teach him how to file a police report.

Grey calls both Lucy and Tim into his office. Lucy follows Tim in nervously. And then stands next to him while Grey stares them down for a minute.

“Why do I have to find out from Smitty’s police report that he was called to your house last night Bradford?”

“Sir.” Begins Tim. “It was just a noise complaint. No big deal and it turned out it was just because-”

“Nope!” Grey says loudly. “I read the report. I am trying to scrub it from my memory.” He pauses and looks at them both. “I’m happy you are both happy with each other. But we don’t need that life coming into work. Especially that kind of stuff.” And he shudders like Angela did. Tim lets out a loud sigh.

Both Tim and Lucy nod in agreement. “Yes sir.” Says Lucy. “It was just really unfortunate that Smitty was the one to come.”

Tim agrees with that wholeheartedly. If it had been some other officer that knew how to be discreet they wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

“Okay I think that is all.” Says Grey. “I don’t want another one of these reports coming across my desk so you understand?”

They nod and then leave quickly. Lucy turns to Tim her face bright red. “So everyone knows because Smitty doesn’t know how to not leave things closed on his desk?”

“Yes.” Says Tim. “But it’s not horrible Luce. Angela and Nyla know. And Grey of course but so far that’s it.” He hopes that’s it because he really doesn’t want to explain it again. Or have yet another person know about his and Lucy’s sex life.

Lucy nods and then reaches out to squeeze his arm a little. “I’ll see you later.” She winks as she turns around. He watches her leave and then he goes back to his desk. Just as he’s about to make it there Aaron steps in front of him.

“Before you say anything. Yes I got a noise complaint to my house. Yes it was Smitty who took the call. No I don’t want to talk about it.” He says quickly. Aaron stared at him as if he’s grown two heads.

“What are you talking about?” He asks. “I just wanted to see if you had the papers because I’m-”

Tim blanches and then moves past Aaron to get to his desk. “Right right. Um.” He searches through the piles of papers on the desk. He finds Aaron’s papers and then hands them to him. Aaron doesn’t take them though.

“So about this noise complaint. What was it for?” He ask. “Because damn Sarge I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Tim musters up the best glare he can and shoots it at Aaron. “I’m not talking about this with you.” He shakes the folder at Aaron. “Do you want this or not?”

Aaron takes it but he’s grinning. “I’m glad you are finally happy Sir.”

Tim waits until Aaron walks away and then he grins. Because he is very happy.

Later at Lucy’s apartment, she tells him Nolan questioned her because he heard it through the grapevine.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Tim admits. “I still wish Smitty could learn to actually file stuff.”

Lucy props her chin on his chest and looks up at him. “As embarrassing as it was.. do you regret it? I mean last night.”

Tim shakes his head fervently because he doesn’t think he will ever regret a night with Lucy. Even if that’s how all their friends found out they were dating. It was worth it, they were worth it. “Nope.”

She grins at him. “Me neither.”

He flips her over so she’s underneath him and he hovers over her. “In fact I think I could go for a repeat performance.” Lucy’s reply is cut of because he surges down to kiss her hard.

And it turns out that each time he’s with Lucy it gets better and better. And every time she looks at him with that adoring look, his heart grows about 10 times bigger.

(And he wouldn’t have it any other way).

[bedlamsbard]

Star emoji! I love director’s commentary

Oooh, let's talk about Howard's conversation with Natasha at the beginning of Of Home Near 7.

This is set at Beaulieu Abbey, which is a real place and was used for SOE (Special Operations Executive) training in WWII, as Special Training Schools 31-36, which I've just conflated into one for the purposes of this fic. Today it's the home of the Secret Army Exhibition, about SOE. None of the description of the house is accurate, since I couldn't find floorplans and have never been.

“Lift your left arm?”

Natasha did so, allowing Howard Stark to make a minor adjustment to the cuff of the tunic-style jacket he was fitting on her. His expression was intent with concentration, two dress pins sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and his hands were unerring as he made the modification with quick, neat stitches. For some reason it was the least like Tony Natasha had ever seen him look, even though she had seen Tony make similar quick alterations to the Iron Man suits a hundred times before.

I like the idea of Howard being really hands-on with his work, which is borne out by CATFA and AC.

Sunlight spilled in through the room’s bow windows, which looked out over the lawn where Howard had landed his plane a few hours earlier. Going by the room’s big desk – now heavily battered from use – and empty bookshelves – mostly covered up by maps and charts – Natasha suspected it had been a study in the building’s previous life as a manor house. Howard Stark had commandeered it upon arrival to do uniform fittings in, since along with the new shield he had brought uniforms for both of them.

He drew back when he was finished and took the pins out of his mouth to ask, “How’s that feel?”

Natasha worked her arm experimentally, then warned Howard to step back and went through one of her shorter kata. He watched without any of the half-expected erotic interest, his attention totally focused on the motions and her new tactical gear.

“Good,” she told him when she had finished, a little to her own surprise, but she supposed that if he regularly made Captain America’s uniforms he had to know the importance of flexibility.

The corner of his mouth curled up a little, as if he had guessed the direction of her thoughts, but all he said was, “Try it with the gear belt,” and handed it to her.

Natasha inspected it as she took it from him Howard had clearly been paying attention to the gear that she had arrived with; he had consulted with her on the design for the new uniform, with Steve doing the initial sketches. The tunic came down past her hips to mid-thigh, with the front fastening at her left shoulder like a motorcycle jacket. The gear belt was made of black leather and was actually two belts crossed over each other, joined by a rivet that let them flex; the holsters were empty at the moment, as were the utility pouches.

This is Natasha's "Liberty Belle" outfit, though it's not named as such here. It's not based specifically on anything and I don't have a very clear mental image of it.

She buckled the belt on and shifted around a little, testing the placement, then went into a brief tumbling routine. Howard watched with that same clinical, calculating interest, his gaze sharp; he made a couple of notes in his sketchbook as she came upright. “How’s that feel?”

“Straps here and here on the holsters, or they’ll flap around.” Natasha pointed them out. “Like Steve’s got,” she clarified when he frowned.

“No, I know what you mean. For a lady – a married lady –”

“God forbid that anyone in the United States Army or the Wehrmacht learns that a woman has legs,” Natasha said dryly, rolling her eyes. “If anyone is looking at my legs, that’s their problem. Especially in the middle of a fight.”

Natasha's usual catsuit would NOT fly in 1945, especially for PR reasons. They're not only designing for practical use, but with the full knowledge that as soon as the fact that Captain America's married is made public Natasha's going to be on magazine covers and newspapers, and she has to not only match Captain America and the other Howling Commandos, she has to be acceptably feminine (by WWII standards, which are...interesting).

“Point taken.” Howard nodded absently and jotted it down in his sketchbook – actually Steve’s sketchbook, she was amused to note; apparently Steve hadn’t succeeded in getting it back from him yet.

I love the detail of it being Steve's sketchbook.

“Am I going to get any of my own gear back?” she asked, rubbing a thumb over her bare wrist. She was expecting the answer to be no and wasn’t surprised when Howard shook his head.

Later Howard gives her her bites back! But not yet.

“But I brought some stuff for you to look at,” he offered encouragingly. “You can give it a try and keep whatever you like. And Dugan said you’d be taking over as sniper, so I brought some rifles for you to try out too.”

Howard chewed on the end of his pencil for a moment before he finally said, “You know about the Commandos’ last sniper –”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “I know about Bucky Barnes.”

1945 Bucky is the ghost in this story, but there was never any intention for him to appear (in 1945). Howard, of course, thinks she knows about Bucky either from the newspapers (he's only been "dead" for two months at this point) or from Steve telling her; Natasha knows him personally.

Howard nodded grimly and looked away, then sat down heavily on the chair he had dragged over from behind the desk, bracing his sketchbook on his knees as his pencil moved over the page.

“Did you design the Howling Commandos’ uniforms too?” Natasha asked eventually, unbuckling the gear belt and weighing it thoughtfully in one hand. “I know you did Steve’s, and I know you supply the Commandos with weapons and tech –”

Howard nodded. “Steve did most of his himself, but I made it,” he said. “I helped with the Commandos, yeah. Steve did some of it, they did some of it, I did some. What do you think?” He held the sketchbook up and turned it around so that she could see.

He had a fine draftsman’s hand, without the sense of suspended life that Steve’s sketches had. Natasha wondered briefly what he would have made of the CAD programs Tony used or if given the option, he would still draft his designs by hand the way Rhodey did when he was working on the War Machine suit.

“I like this rig,” she told him, and Howard nodded, making a few more notes to himself.

“I can have that done today, it’s a minor fix,” he said. He took the gear belt from Natasha and set them both down, then looked at her for a long moment before saying, “I’m glad Steve got married. Or whatever,” he added with a solemn wink. “It’s good for him.”

Howard figured out pretty much immediately that Steve and Natasha weren't really married, but never brought it up; he figured that if Steve was going to the trouble, then he had a good reason.

For a moment his expression was wistful, then his gaze flickered sideways, as if he was embarrassed that he had let the emotion show.

“Did you and Steve ever –” she began, and then stopped, uncertain how to end the question. Or if she should be asking it at all; this wasn’t the twenty-first century, and even there it wasn’t a harmless inquiry.

Meeting Howard Stark explained a LOT of things about Tony, Tony's relationship with Steve, and Steve's relationship with Tony. Note that Natasha is also aware that Steve sleeps with men (Peggy isn't, as she remarks in an earlier chapter), but isn't sure about Howard, which is why she stops.

Howard looked back at her, wary now and frowning a little, but whatever he saw on her face seemed to reassure him. “What, and get both of us shot by Peggy? That wouldn’t do the war effort any good. She’d do it, too. Anyway, Steve’s been a little busy fighting a war.”

Peggy would have killed Howard if she thought he was serious about it or if they'd actually done anything. She knows that Howard wants to sleep with Steve, but has mentally categorized it as "a little silly" and is unaware that Steve's bi.

“Do you know who the woman was that Agent Carter caught him with in 1943?” Natasha asked, with a mental tick of observation that he hadn’t bothered to deny that Steve liked men as well as women. Not that either one of them was saying anything outright, just half-spoken asides. “I’ve heard the story, but no one will say who –”

“Sure,” Howard said. “But I don’t think you have anything to worry about; Steve’s crazy about you.”

“I’m not worried, I’m curious,” Natasha said. “Or did Agent Carter push her out of the SSR?” She didn’t think Peggy Carter was that petty, but if she was, Natasha wanted to know about it.

Natasha's experience with Peggy isn't anywhere close to the 21st century image of Peggy Carter or with Steve's memories of her.

“She’s still here,” Howard said. “It was Irene Lorraine, Colonel Phillips’ secretary. Steve came in looking for me and she cornered him.” He grinned, amused at the memory, and explained, “It was right after we got back to London from Italy and Phillips got Steve transferred from the USO to the SSR, so the big rescue was all over the papers. Apparently she was thanking him on behalf of the women of America, only Peggy caught them. Scared the hell out of both of them.”

The shooting the shield scene is fucked up from a 2023 perspective, and I really think it's been grandfathered in as ~sexy and absolutely would not fly today.

In the previous chapter's scene with Lorraine Steve remarks on the fact that Peggy's reaction completely screwed up the social dynamics of the women of the SSR.

He chewed absently on the end of his pencil, then shot a look at the closed door and went on slowly, “I don’t know how much Steve’s told you – I guess it wouldn’t really matter up then in 2018 – but he and Peggy…they were and they weren’t, you know? They didn’t go out to dinner, they didn’t go dancing; I don’t know if they ever even kissed. But he had her picture in his compass and if he hadn’t gone down with the Valkyrie, then –” Howard shrugged. “They might have gotten married later, yeah, but they never actually talked about it. Stupid thing to do in a war,” he added, then thought about it and grimaced, making a vague gesture with the pencil towards himself as if to say, but I did the same thing.

Howard has a lot of regrets, and I don't think he knows what he would have done if he had known that Steve might not really come back.

He flicked another glance at the door again while Natasha was chewing over what to say in response to that. “Don’t repeat this to Steve or Peg,” he warned, and waited for her to nod before he went on. “It’s not that Peg didn’t like Steve back then, because she did, and it’s different now, obviously, but she set her cap for him as soon as he came back from Austria and not a minute earlier, no matter what anyone else here says about it, including Steve. And that was it as far as she was concerned. There were girls like that in my old neighborhood,” he added knowledgeably, “not that any of them ever had anything to do with me back then.”

I have some very clear and possibly controversial thoughts about Steve and Peggy's relationship, and how both Steve and Peggy perceived their relationship, throughout CATFA. If you look at the pub and SSR scenes, they're having two COMPLETELY different conversations, and Steve's constantly playing catch-up to the conversation that Peggy's having even though she never says anything explicitly and just expects him to get it. I also DON'T think that Peggy was even remotely romantically interested in pre-serum Steve, though later on she convinced herself that she was, and she wasn't all that interested in "Captain America" Steve, either.

“There are women like that everywhere,” Natasha said dryly. It wasn’t a personality type that usually survived the rigors of the Red Room, but she had known one or two Widows who had managed it.

She considered Howard with a little more interest. The Stark family’s origins were a farrago of obfuscation, fairy tales, and what Natasha was fairly certain were a few outright lies, though she wasn’t certain how aware of that Tony was. Howard Stark had told the newspapers several contradictory stories over the years, one variation of which was on the Stark Industries website, and the only consistent point seemed to be that he had been born in Manhattan in 1917, though which part of Manhattan was up for debate. Natasha also strongly suspected that the family name had started out as something a lot less Anglophone than Stark, though she wasn’t sure if that was Howard’s doing or if it had happened at Ellis Island; both seemed equally likely. She wondered if Howard would tell her if she asked.

Off Howard's statement in Agent Carter that he was born in the Lower East Side, which in the early 20th century was an immigrant neighborhood with a heavy Jewish population around the time Howard was born and growing up. Pretty much this theory about Howard's background. Steve mentions in a later chapter that Howard speaks Yiddish and is Jewish, but Natasha doesn't know those details at this point, and it's deliberately vague. Tony knows NONE of this because Howard buried it back in the 1920s or 1930s.

Howard slid a third look at the door and started to say, “Steve –” and then stopped, chewing on the end of the pencil again. Finally, he said, “I think if either he or Peg had pushed harder, it would have gone further between the two of them, but neither one of them ever did. In a way it is – it was – probably easier that way. I mean – it is when people make assumptions. Easier, I mean. Leave enough gaps in any story and people will fill them in for you – hell, you’ll start filling them in yourself.”

He sat in silence for a few moments, his expression abstracted; Natasha thought about his playboy reputation, that he hadn’t married until 1965, the few things Tony had said about his father and his parents’ marriage – the way Howard looked at Steve when he thought Steve didn’t know. For that matter, the fact that he hadn’t looked at her with anything more than aesthetic appreciation over the course of the past two weeks and change.

My version of Howard is that he's bi, but while he prefers men he sleeps with more women as part of his Be Totally Normal campaign. (Peggy also mentions this in an earlier chapter.)

Eventually Howard shook his head and said, “I’m surprised Steve had the guts to ask you out.”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Natasha allowed, accepting the change in subject. When Howard’s eyebrows went up, she explained, “We were on the run from the government, so I don’t think he thought he had all that much to lose.”

Well, it was technically true; Interpol still had red notices out on them back up in 2018, and Thaddeus Ross would be happy to have both of them drawn and quartered.

“Sounds like quite the story.”

“You have no idea,” Natasha said.

Howard took her unwillingness to expand on that in stride; for all Natasha knew, he assumed that instead of dinner and a movie, she and Steve had consummated their mutual interest in the back of a truck while on the run, which wasn’t even that far from the truth, minus the truck. He looked back down at the sketchbook in his lap as if he had forgotten it was there, then at the chewed end of his pencil in equal surprise. He glanced up at Natasha, down at the sketchbook, and up at her again; she raised her eyebrows in response.

“You okay with the color?” he asked. “I thought we’d match you and Steve, give the photographers something to coo about.”

Natasha blinked at him, though by now she was used to Howard Stark’s rapid changes in subject, then realized that he meant her new uniform, which was dark blue with a little red detailing down the sides and sleeves, with the Howling Commandos’ winged insignia on the left shoulder. Both the red and the blue were a little lighter in color than any of Steve’s recent uniforms, either because of changing aesthetics between 1945 and 2016 or because they would show up better in the black and white photographs the newspapers used. She hadn’t had a chance to see Steve’s new uniform yet, though she doubted it could be all that different from his last WWII uniform.

Steve's new uniform is never described in detail, but it's a mix between his CATFA, CATWS, and CACW uniforms. Captain America and Liberty Belle DO have to match.

“It’s fine,” she said, then cocked an eyebrow at him and said, “Do I really have to worry about photographers? Isn’t that mostly Steve’s problem?”

The Howling Commandos had featured a little in some of the old newspaper articles and newsreels she had seen, but most of the attention had been on Captain America until the 1960s, when there had been a resurgence in Howling Commando stories for a few years on both sides of the civil rights movement, not helped by Gabe Jones’ death in 1965. It had been on the job for SHIELD, but SHIELD’s existence hadn’t been publicly known until 1975, when along with the NSA it had been revealed as part of the Church Committee hearings that had followed the Watergate scandal. Even in 2018 there was a persistent rumor that Jones had been assassinated; knowing about Hydra’s interference in SHIELD, Natasha wasn’t sure that he hadn’t been, but there had been never been any proof.

SHIELD and Howling Commandos history based on some real world history. The SSR was made public knowledge post-war, but SHIELD followed the NSA's path and was secret until the post-Watergate Church Committee congressional hearings about American intelligence abuse in 1975. The NSA came out of the Signals Intelligence Service in WWII, which post-war was reorganized into the Army Security Agency, and the NSA itself was formed in 1952. SHIELD likewise probably had one or two names between the SSR and SHIELD.

Steve says in an earlier chapter that Gabe Jones worked for SHIELD and was killed on the job in 1965; no one knows if it was normal line-of-duty death or if he was assassinated, either by Hydra (after 2014) or as part of something like COINTELPRO due to being a prominent Civil Rights figure.

“Nope,” Howard said. “Come on, Captain and Mrs. America? The papers and the newsreels will eat that up. If Ike and Monty weren’t running roughshod over the Germans right now Senator Brandt would probably have the two of you doing photoshoots for a week. Instead Sherman – you met him the other day when he was taking pictures of Brandt and Steve – will have to squeeze them all in tomorrow, and a couple more at the front after you arrive.”

Brandt's assistant Michael Sherman -- name from me, credited only as Brandt's assistant in CATFA -- is the one who gives Natasha the Liberty Belle name, which shows up in this bit of faux-historical writing (which is going to be part of a post-Home historical errata story). I checked as carefully as I could that there wasn't a preexisting Marvel character with the Liberty Belle name; there's a DC character (who, yes, debuted during WWII) and Amalgam Comics (Marvel and DC publishing together) had an American Belle that was a mashup of DC's Liberty Belle and Marvel's Miss America (who hasn't made it to the MCU). I hesitated a bit over the name, but the DC character isn't well-known so I decided it was probably fine. Also it doesn't show up THAT often in this story.

Every historical event mentioned in this story is based on the real events that took place on those dates -- this is March 31, 1945, a little over a week after the crossing of the Rhine as part of Operation Plunder and the invasion of Germany, just prior the Race to Berlin.

Natasha grimaced. She had done the publicity circuit up in the twenty-first century, but hadn’t enjoyed it anymore than Steve had; unlike Steve, she also wasn’t used to it. At least then that had been as another Avenger, rather than as Captain America’s wife. She didn’t enjoy being defined in relation to Steve – to Captain America, really – but it kept anyone from looking too closely at her own entirely fictional background and with any luck it wouldn’t have to last.

The Captain America propaganda machine in 1945 is nothing like the Avengers PR circuit 2012-2016, especially with the glamor of "CAPTAIN AMERICA RETURNED FROM THE DEAD!" and "REDHEADED BOMBSHELL KNOCKS CAP OFF THE MARKET, LADIES!" Brandt's already got the fictionalized versions of the Cap propaganda machine -- Timely Comics, the Captain America Adventure Program, and various Hollywood films -- working on both resurrecting Cap (they were all trying to figure out how to handle his disappearance/death) and introducing Liberty Belle. Natasha doesn't have any context for how aggressive the Captain America propaganda machine is, since a lot of it didn't survive to the present day, and she's thinking about it in terms of the PR circuits the Avengers have done. It would not have been like that. (This is also one reason that Peggy wasn't willing to go anywhere with Steve during the war -- Peggy absolutely was not willing to be part of the Captain America propaganda machine.)

“They’re not expecting – I don’t know, a demure secretary, are they?” Natasha asked warily. “Or a nurse, or –” She knew women had done just about every job but combat in the Second World War, but she was also aware that not all of those jobs had equivalents in the twenty-first century.

This is basically the only point in American history until quite recently when it would be publicly acceptable for Captain America's wife to be as much of an ass-kicker as he is, but Natasha doesn't know enough about WWII to be sure about that.

Howard snorted. “What, for Captain America? Only if you listen to Roxxon’s faradiddle – they sponsor the Captain America Adventure Program.” When Natasha’s eyebrows shot upwards, he explained, “It’s a radio show. Roxxon is –”

From Agent Carter. Interestingly, Timely Comics' Golden Age WWII-era love interest for Cap (Betsy Ross, a.k.a. Golden Girl) was not a demure nurse like AC's Betty Carver. (Comics Peggy Carter was not introduced until the 1960s.)

“I know what Roxxon Energy is,” Natasha said.

This time it was Howard’s eyebrows that went up. “Roxxon Oil Corporation now,” he said. “I’ve been trying to buy them out for years, but Hugh Jones – that’s the CEO – hasn’t been having it. Cap’s sweetheart in the show is some nurse who’s always getting herself kidnapped by Nazis, when she’s not mending split trousers or making dinner for five hundred. I keep telling Peggy she should sue for defamation.”

“Not Steve?”

Howard’s mouth twisted. “Steve doesn’t have any legal right to his name or image. Well, the Captain America name, anyway, not the Steve Rogers part. The United States government can license the rest of it to anyone they want.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and he looked away. After a moment, he added, “I’ll get my lawyers on it after the war, though Brandt’s people are pretty good.”

“I know,” Natasha admitted. “Steve’s still having that fight up in the twenty-first, mostly unsuccessfully.”

Based on the U.S. government establishing John Walker as Captain America in FATWS, and to some extent on She-Hulk having knock-off Avengers ("Avongers") merchandise. If it's a knock-off, then there has to be a reason it's not official. An earlier chapter mentions that the U.S. government has occasionally tried to revive the Captain America role since 1945, and Howard Stark shut it down every time. Steve's not been successful in getting the rights to the Captain America name or even his own image back, it's too entrenched in American culture and history. On the bright side, post-Sokovia, the government's way less eager to use either.

[nytehavyn-circle]

Yakko Warner: There once was a man, his name was Magellan. A Portuguese skipper, the girls found him cute He sailed with five ships to find the East Indies Then come back to Spain with a bounty of loot

The Warners: Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, oh, happy Magellan! Starting your journey with hardly a care! Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, strong, brave Magellan, You'll find the East Indies, you just don't know where!

Yakko: They crossed the Atlantic and spotted a country. Magellan said...

Magellan: It's the East Indies at last!

Yakko: But then someone shouted...

Wakko Warner: Hey, that's Argentina!

Yakko: Magellan got cranky and chopped down the mast

The Warners: Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, settle down, Magellan Put down that axe! There's no time to despair Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, keep trying, Magellan, You'll find the East Indies, you just don't know where!

Yakko: A great storm arose in the mighty Pacific The five little ships were diminished to three At last, land was sighted. Magellan was happy But then someone shouted...

Dot: Hey, that's Chile!

The Warners: Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, cheer up, Magellan. Check out your map and don't tear out your hair! Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, keep trying, Magellan, You'll find the East Indies, you just don't know where!

Yakko: It took them five months, but they crossed the Pacific. They spotted a land that was dotted with palms. Magellan proclaimed...

Magellan: Yes! That's the East Indies!

Yakko: But then someone shouted...

Wakko: Hey, I think that's Guam!

The Warners: Ai yi yi yi, oops, Magellan! Your fun little journey's become a nightmare! Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, keep trying, Magellan, You'll find the East Indies, you just don't know where!

Yakko: They sailed due west to the Philippine Islands Magellan was pleased as the natives drew near But then someone shouted...

The Warners: I think they're attacking!

Yakko: Magellan said...

Magellan: What?

Yakko: And got hit by a spear

The Warners: Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, farewell, Magellan! You almost made it! It's really not fair! Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, oh, ghost of Magellan The East Indies Islands were right over there!

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (8 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 <3

***

How could one man's nose, monstrous though it was, be responsible for such an ungodly racket? Tearing through the glass-peaked canyons, sound waves like a cross between an enraged hornet's nest and a shoal of frenzied mermaids rattled the slab acting as Killian’s backrest. It had seemed prudent not to stretch himself flat and expose more surface area to the brutally jagged terrain, but apparently, his total exhaustion was not enough to allow sleep in an upright position. And now this nonsense.

Killian gingerly shifted his weight, and even the scrape and rattle of chains as his heavy shackle skittered along the stone was muffled by Blackbeard's drunken droning. The ring of chafed skin beneath the band encircling Killian's ankle burned with the movement. If only he had his hook back, or even a sturdy dagger; perhaps then he could work one of the links out of shape to at least be rid of the ball’s encumbrance. But as he reached down, intent on sliding the metal higher and onto less irritated flesh, the chain clanked again and Blackbeard snorted awake. He didn't even bother to open an eye.

"Go to bed, Hook."

"I pity every last man on your crew," grumbled Killian in reply. "How many have been flogged for nodding off while on duty?"

Blackbeard's snoring resumed, even louder than before, and Killian sighed bitterly. The bastard had the most selective hearing he had ever witnessed.

A brief image flashed into his mind, that of himself using the blasted spherical anchor to bash the rival pirate's head in. But the chain was too short to accommodate a height of any more than an inch or two above the ringleted skull, and as he'd already discovered, the blood pulsing into his own injured head as he hunched over to lift the ball would soon have him faceplanting onto the razor rocks at his feet. Still, the thought was a tempting one.

“Just what the bloody hell are we doing here, anyway? Are you ever going to tell me, or do I have to figure it out all on my own?”

Grunting irritably, Blackbeard opened one eye and gave his captive a sideways glance. “What, so you can devise a way to escape? I don’t think so. I told you: I’m getting my money’s worth out of you.”

“And just how do you intend to do that, exactly? In case you hadn’t noticed, this is hardly the heart of high society, here. Do you even have a clue where we are?”

“Of course I do. The legendary Blackbeard is never lost.”

“Is that so?” Killian grinned tauntingly, though he certainly felt less than prepared for banter at the moment. “All right then. Prove it.”

With a hugely exaggerated eye roll, Blackbeard reached into an inner pocket. “Fine. If it will finally get you to shut up for once…”

He drew out a folded parchment and held it between his first two fingers, barely making any effort to angle it in Killian’s direction. Killian leaned stiffly closer and plucked the offering from his grasp.

“A treasure map,” he said as he unfolded the grubby bit of crumpled parchment. “That’s your grand scheme.”

“Give me at least some credit, Hook. I’m not likely to spend a small fortune on an expedition to nowhere.”

Killian still could not see anything to make him believe this was anything other than an ordinary treasure map. A complicated one, to be sure, with a maze-like route that undoubtedly purported to navigate them through the current mess of narrow canyons. No key provided any interpretation for the scattering of symbols marking the parchment. “Then where is this taking us?”

Killian immediately spotted some false confidence in Blackbeard’s demeanor as he snatched the map back.

“If the ancient tales of this place have any truth to them… we’ll soon have the pleasure of meeting some powerful magic-wielders; creatures with the ability to grant anyone their heart’s fondest desires.”

Dubious eyebrow raised, Killian settled back against the rock face. “Creatures? What, like mythical beasts?”

Blackbeard returned the map to his breast pocket. A hint of defensiveness colored his tone as he carefully replied,

“The legends tend to describe beings more… simian in shape.”

“Monkeys?” Killian scoffed. “Magical wish-granting monkeys? I always knew you were a wily devil, but I somehow missed the fact that you were also a madman.”

“Mock all you like; this ‘madman’ will soon be celebrating riches beyond your wildest dreams.” Blackbeard tilted his hat forward over his eyes and folded his arms, prepared to resume his slumber. 

“Aye? And what’s my role in all of this? Surely you could have moved faster without the burden of an unwilling traveling companion.”

“Did I forget to mention?” Blackbeard didn’t move, seemingly not interested in Killian’s reaction to his provocation. “The going rate for wishes in this land is a mere human sacrifice. A bargain, if you ask me. I hear the monkeys consider roasted human flesh a delicacy. Although your aged bones may need a bit of extra time on the spit to properly tenderize.”

Ignoring the gibe, Killian made no effort to conceal his skepticism. “All right, mate. Say for a moment that I believe you. Once we’re in the monkeys’ clutches, what’s to keep them from feasting on both of us? Seems a dangerous gamble for such an unlikely reward.”

“Not all of us are as jaded as you are, old man. These monkeys are moral creatures. They honor their deals.” He shifted his weight slightly. “Speaking of deals… I believe you now owe me a bit of quiet.”

Killian rolled his eyes, even though the other man couldn’t see. “You’ve a disturbing amount of faith in these nonsensical stories of yours.”

Blackbeard didn’t respond, and soon, the buzz-rumble had returned. 

Though he’d expressed so much doubt for the sake of appearances, Killian had too much life experience to dismiss the legends outright. Most folk tales had some element of truth to them, and even if the magical beings inhabiting this hostile land were not actual monkeys, he had no intention to treat them with anything but caution. Magic had never been particularly kind to him.

But what if they really could grant a heart’s desire?

***

“Watch yourself, Hook,” sneered Blackbeard from up ahead. Killian picked himself up yet again, inspecting the newest addition to the dozens of cuts and scrapes already adorning his elbows, knees, and hips. He glared at his nemesis, who was in much the same state, though due to the percentage of his blood that was actually alcohol, Killian doubted the other man could feel any of it.

“You don’t say,” gritted Killian. Blackbeard stumbled, but somehow remained upright. Killian made a note of the obstruction so he could avoid a similar incident.

Their second day of navigating the menacing canyons, Killian was already completely lost. Lingering wooziness did not help his sense of direction one bit. Blackbeard frequently consulted his map, purloined from gods-only-knew-where, allegedly leading to the cannibal, wish-granting monkeys fabled to live in this inhospitable location. But knowing the way and being able to traverse the terrain were two different things. And now they were running low on water.

The pair rounded a bend and came to a rare clearing, where the walls widened into more than the average arm’s length they had grown accustomed to seeing. In the center stood a gnarled, sickly tree, also an oddity since leaving the road. Blackbeard made a grunt of satisfaction and tucked the map into his pocket. 

“Over there, Granddad. Time to get well-acquainted with some tree bark.”

Grudgingly, Killian followed Blackbeard to the tree, watching as he fished a length of rope from his satchel. 

“Is this where your monkey friends live? Inside a decaying old tree? Doesn’t appear very magical to me.”

“Don’t worry; this is only a quick layover. We’ve quite a ways to go yet.” 

Killian engaged in a token struggle as Blackbeard grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the tree trunk, but secretly, he was glad of the opportunity to rest. His whole body ached, and his ankle was so chafed from the ball and chain that he wouldn’t have been surprised to find smears of blood beneath the iron band. 

“I don’t expect this to hold you for long,” Blackbeard commented, wrapping the rope around the trunk. He fashioned a quick noose with one end, slipped it around Killian’s neck, and then bound his hand with the other end. Now, too much movement of that arm would tighten the loop encircling his neck. “But it would be foolish to try and find your way out of here without this.”

He flashed the map in front of Killian’s face, then stuffed it back into the front of his coat. Cautiously testing his bindings and making no effort to disguise his movements, Killian growled,

“More foolish than peacefully accompanying you to my death?”

Blackbeard shrugged. “Try it, then. You have no chance of outdistancing me.” He rooted around in the bottom of his satchel for a moment and located Killian’s hook, sneering,

“Don’t want you getting your hand on this.”

Then, after also pulling out their empty waterskins, he tossed his satchel carelessly nearby. “If you do get the gumption to lose the ropes, feel free to clean yourself up. I’m off to fetch water. It’s a bit out of the way and it would take three times as long if I dragged your dead weight along with me.” 

He inspected his knots once more and then patted Killian condescendingly. “Be a good little sacrifice and stay put.”

Killian didn’t waste time watching Blackbeard swagger off; instead, he sank slowly to a seated position, careful to allow the rope enough slack that he didn’t choke himself along the way. Almost immediately, he located a protruding piece of bark and got to work loosening the knot securing his wrist. He didn’t expect his captor to have overlooked any means of self-defense in the satchel, but he was hoping a certain other item may have been deemed unimportant enough to be forgotten…

[fumiko-matsubara]

Korosuu English Translation - Chapter 6: Sniper Time

Previous Chapter: Shopping District Time

Note: Although this was directly translated from Japanese -> English, I didn't write it word for word, and instead went with variants that flow better in the English language for a much easier reading experience. Raw scans were provided by the amazing @blazardragon, so a big thank you to them!

Along with Chapter 5, I actually finished translating this last year's summer. The initial plan was to wait for Nao to finish translating Chapters 3 and 4 before I post mine.

This is the chapter that birthed the joke that is Evil Enabler Chiba because... he is such a MENACE here, oh lord. Right up there with Karma provoking Grip at the hotel raid arc 😭

"Well sorry for the warning…"

After muttering that under his breath, Chiba leaned out of the window sill and looked around to see that there was a brand new round hole in the window frame.

"So, what should we do then? Should we still proceed with what you said earlier?" Hayami asked.

Chiba kept silent for a while and shook his head.

"Thinking from the trajectory, I'm going to need you to stay close. No matter how good I am, I wouldn't be able to shake it off if I were to make a mistake even by a few centimeters in a place like this… But even so, I would like to be able to give back the same "warning" to that man, at least."

Hayami swore she could almost see a quiet flame being lit through Chiba's bangs. It was an expression she had rarely seen from him.

[Illustration]  A hole was made as a result of sniping work by the Legendary Sniper. A mechanical pencil was inserted into the window frame hole to measure the angle at which the bullet flew.

"If you follow the trajectory with this-"

While saying that, Chiba took pictures of the mechanical pencil from directly above and the sides using a smartphone camera with a grid display on the screen. Then, taking an angle from the photo, he drew a straight line onto the prepared drawing.

Chiba's hand then stopped.

"What happened?"

Hayami immediately understood the reason for the sudden pause. Following Chiba's line of sight, what she saw was a pillar supporting the roof of the arcade. The problem was that the pillar was circular.

"Shit, that's right… We wouldn't know where the shot came from." Chiba realized.

The method that Chiba and Hayami came up with cannot be used if the ricochet location was slanted or curved.

"But you do know where the pillars would hit, right? And what about the vertical rays? Is that no good?"

Chiba pulled the elevation drawing map closer and quickly placed a ruler on it. 

"Nah... It looks fine. We can follow it."

Fortunately, there were no curved objects like sloping walls or cylinders there.

"I wonder if we bounce the bullet from the ground or shoot it from the ground. There's no doubt that it'll hit the left side of the pillar… but that also means knowing that the bullet came from the left."

Chiba looked at Hayami while still following the drawn line with his finger.

"But if you bounce from somewhere else before that, then you wouldn't know where your opponent is anymore."

Hayami turned to the window sill. "The bullet that was shot into the window frame was quite powerful, wasn't it?"

Chiba followed along Hayami's line of sight. It was an old piece of wood, but as long as the rounded bullet had penetrated through it, it should be powerful enough to hit a human.

"That's right."

"If so, then I don't think you would need the bullet to bounce so many times. If you just wanted to give a little scare, I think all you need was to be pretty accurate about it."

Chiba reviewed the illustration.

"I see."

"And the bullets would pass through the feet of people walking around the shopping district. But is there any reason to go through such length if it's just to give back a warning?" 

Chiba crossed his arms and pondered deeply.

It was exactly what Hayami said. There should be no reason to risk aiming at the feet of pedestrians who do not know where they are going. Regardless of aiming for the ultimate goal that is Koro-sensei, if an accident were to happen here, then everything they had prepared for would be ruined.

He has a reason to take such a risk, however. But he would rather avoid going through that length at all costs.

Hayami pressed a fingertip against a point on the drawing.

"This. Isn't it suspicious?"

Hayami was pointing at a box stationed just to the left of the building where the two of them are. It's the tonkotsu ramen stall that smells awful.

In the beginning, it was a prominent awful scent that made them want to pinch their noses. But as they checked the shopping district and began looking around, the two were so engrossed in what they were doing that they had forgotten about its existence.

"Well, imagine if you shoot from here."

"Huh?"

Now that he thought about it, there was something suspicious he noticed. A tall car model was used for the stall. But for some reason, it was fully wide open, and the old man inside was sitting cross-legged while preparing ramen, though a bit clumsily, and Chiba remembered that the man was in a sour mood the entire time they had been watching.

But earlier, it wasn't particularly on Chiba's mind.

"The food stall could also be helpful for us to move freely. Since the scent of tonkotsu ramen can cover us from Koro-sensei's strong sense of smell if it's a concern."

Chiba glanced at the ramen stall from the window.

"...No doubt about it. Except that car would be moving before you know it. So you wouldn't be able to see anything inside."

"That's true…"

Chiba clicked his tongue. "There's nothing we can do about this. Damn it, is there no better way to deal with that man?"

At that moment, the smartphone on the table began vibrating again. Chiba frowned a little and picked it up and thankfully, it wasn't an unknown number this time.

"Okajima?!"

"Yeah, I got a call from an unknown number earlier telling me that the sniper was working. So, I thought I'd try to assassinate Koro-sensei first because I'm a sniper too, you know?"

"Where are you right now? At a dining place?"

As soon as Chiba looked out by the window, he could see a shadow waving at him from his peripheral vision.

"Wait, is Takebayashi with you? I'm gonna need some help."

When Chiba shortly explained the situation, Okajima briefly laughed from the other line. "So in short, you wanna know what's going on with that stinky ramen shop over there?"

"Yeah, if that's alright with you. Also, if the distance is good enough, can the two of you guys show me the old man at the ramen stall through a video call?"

"I see, so you're going to triangulate."

At the same time Takebayashi's voice piped up from the other line, the phone screen was split into two, and the ramen stall was projected on them at different angles.

"Would this be fine?"

Chiba went to grab the rangefinder, answering yes. He measured the positions of where the two guys were and the position of the man making ramen using what was projected on the smartphone. Then he pulled the table with the illustration towards the window so he could determine the angle of where the two points would meet.

"Hayami, can you shoot as instructed?"

Hayami, who was already heading for the rifle, gave him a thumbs up in response.

"Horizontally: 12 degrees 22 minutes and 52 seconds. Vertically: 24 degrees 7 minutes and 21 seconds."

The moment when Chiba just finished talking was when the sound of firing echoed. Beyond the screen of the smartphone he's holding, Chiba saw a BB bullet graze a figure.

"Horizontally, you're about 30 centimeters off to the right. But vertically, it's fine. Do it again."

The instruction he gave was more of an estimation based on what he saw through the screen, but Chiba was convinced that Hayami had an accurate grasp of it. 

Another sound of the gun firing.

"This time, about 10 centimeters to the left. The rest is fine."

Though the screen of the smartphone was a bit delayed by the firing sound, Chiba saw the BB pellet bouncing on an old man's shoulder.

The said old man, who was trying to calmly present a ramen to a customer, suddenly dropped the bowl in surprise.

From outside the window, the duo heard a small yet heavy noise… then immediately followed by screams and yelling. One of which they cannot make out what the word is as it was certainly not Japanese.

They saw a figure who appeared by flipping up the floorboard and was caught by the old shop owner who looked like a mess.

"Is it a hit?" Hayami looked back at Chiba with a relieved face and he smiled at her. Then she turned back to the rifle again, and after a short while, pulled the trigger.

BANG.

Beyond the screen, the foreigner-like man's face, perhaps the Legendary Sniper himself, was stuck in a surprised expression. The BB bullet that was shot by Hayami is firmly digging into his forehead. Chiba raised a small right hand. Then Hayami matched the lifted hand with her own.

Then, when he turned to look back at his smartphone, the sniper was stunned and wasn't even looking at the screen. He wouldn't have thought that he would be shot this way.

Chiba turned back to Hayami in delight. "Hey! There's no target we can't hit, right?"

Hayami laughed with a pleasant expression.

Okajima's voice suddenly echoed from Chiba's smartphone.

"I'm happy for you guys and all, but sorry. Koro-sensei's heading over there."

Tension returns to their facial expressions. Chiba, who was attached to the scope of the rangefinder, found Koro-sensei, who had just left the product exhibition, and was about to return through the arcade.

Chiba had set a target shortly before Koro-sensei arrived and determined the angle of the incidence from the drawing. Then he raises his face to give Hayami instructions.

"It's your turn this time." She interrupted, however.

Hayami's hands lightly touch his shoulders. Chiba, who changed places as prompted by Hayami, shut his mouth tightly and sat down in front of his rifle.

This time, I would have to finish it in one shot. The second Koro-sensei notices me, I know I wouldn't be able to hit him anymore.

Chiba could hear his own heartbeat from the back of his ears. This was not just a sniping assignment. It was a situation he created by working with Okajima, Takebayashi and others, and Hayami.

As he held still, he felt that the ambient noise disappeared.

He could hear Hayami's breathing, which helped him measure the time. As she unconsciously breathed in, Chiba felt like he could truly see what he was seeing through the scope.

He could see Hayami's right hand going up high. 2 meters left… 1 meter. It was as if Hayami was speaking out.

The arm swung down exactly the same time Chiba pulled the trigger. It was a feat that could have had absolutely impossible timing if he had instead reacted visually.

BANG.

The BB bullet released from the rifle reacted exactly as Chiba expected it to be and attacked Koro-sensei diagonally above from his left.

It was at that moment.

Hayami, who was looking through the scope of the rangefinder, suddenly withdrew. "Eh?"

"...He saw it."

Startled, Chiba instinctively leaned out the window and looked down at the street.

=0=0=

"Aww too bad."

Among the crowds in the shopping district, Chiba and Hayami stood in front of the usually smiling Koro-sensei.

The confidently deadly bullet was evaded by Koro-sensei, who withdrew his neck right on the verge of being hit.

"Sensei noticed that you were planning something."

Apparently, looking at Chiba's expression who was inspired by Okajima's failed mirror technique, Koro-sensei immediately knew that he would be aiming for a ricochet.

"It's a great pleasure to see my students voluntarily attempt to assassinate, let alone, look up, and come up with their own methods from what little information available they could gather." When Koro-sensei noticed the Legendary Sniper's gaze, the man stiffened then immediately jumped into the driver's seat and sped from the shopping district.

"Maybe I don't have to tell you this, though. You can only realize the growth of your students when you're a teacher."

After a deep emotional smile, Koro-sensei turned to the two again.

"This was your homework. Complete this sniper technique. While there wasn't a deadline, you weren't given any hints instead. This was something that you all would have to work on your own. And this isn't just only useful for assassination. What you get in the process of this homework will probably broaden your knowledge and ideas far more than you can imagine."

Then, with a smile on his face again, Koro-sensei lifted the manju he grabbed with the tip of his tentacles.

"Nurufufufufu~ Today is a really happy day. This way, you can feel the growth of your own students and taste the manju that you have been longing for. I thought I could relax today in the staff room while enjoying green tea, but it would be a waste if I couldn't enjoy it at such a wonderful moment."

Chiba felt uncomfortable at the sight of the light-coloured steamed bun. It looked like something round was digging into its surface. By the time he realized that it was the BB bullet he had shot earlier, Koro-sensei had already chomped down the steamed bun.

Koro-sensei's high-pitched screams echoed throughout the narrow shopping district.

The class of year 3-E is an Assassination Classroom.

Tomorrow, the morning bell will ring once again.

Notes:

My boy is a fear-inducing risk-taking menace and he ENABLED Hayami to do his bidding (aka get revenge on the legendary sniper) only because he didn't like to be called a hindrance. If that doesn't scream petty then I don't know what to tell y'all... 😭

I love how we got a great callback to chapter 4 where Chiba and Hayami talked about combining their contrasting efforts to make things possible. Because we first have Hayami with her great timing being meticulously instructed by Chiba so she could aim accurately. And then our ever so accurate Chiba, whose overthinking tend to distract him but Hayami was there to keep him grounded and get his timing on point.

Also, this kinda proves that Koro's unpredictably was what caused Class E to ulttimately fail their Island assassination attempt, not the snipers' own mild mishaps. With the support of Hayami's timing, Chiba's perfect shot should've done him in. But it didn't so... Blocking the bullet with the snack he's holding, it's exactly what happened to Red Eye's attempt on him during the Kyoto trip 😭

And the remaining bits of official content we have left has now come to an end! I hope you all have a good read because... we won't be getting any new official content any time soon, I fear 😭