#Because I got to write Ga On when he was more fierce

[cammiko]

Can I ask you for your fanon past and back history for Pumbaa? Cause all that they say bout´ him that he is alone cause his gas, and that´s so annoying >:(

Ohhhhhh I’ve been dying to talk about this. I’ve recently been working on a backstory for Pumbaa to inform my fanfic writing!

So yes. Let’s talk about Pumbaa. And not in the “teehee he farted and no one likes him and now he’s sad” kind of way.

Because YES, I absolutely agree with you. That whole “he’s alone just because he’s gassy” thing is such a tired, shallow take. Like?? No! This man is walking around with enough childhood trauma to snap a baobab tree like a twig, and all anyone wants to talk about is his IBS symptoms?? Be so serious right now.

(WARNING: long, tragic warthog backstory rant incoming.)

ANYWHO, here’s my fanon Pumbaa lore:

So first off, Pumbaa wasn’t just a little stinky.

He wasn’t just your average “oops, pardon me” baby warthog. No, his gas was atomic for a reason.

From birth, he had an overactive scent gland, and I mean like, wildly overactive. It wasn’t just that he smelled bad. It was that he smelled so strong, predators could track the entire sounder from miles away just by following the scent trail. And the worst part was that the predators didn’t even want Pumbaa. His scent actually repelled them. But it also acted like a giant neon sign saying “HEY! THERE’S A HERD OF WARTHOGS RIGHT HERE!”

So his presence became a liability. His smell didn’t just embarrass the herd, but it actively endangered them. And he didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to. But that didn’t matter.

And as he grew up, things only got worse.

Normally, young male warthogs get pushed out of the herd once they hit a certain age. But Pumbaa was still just a kid when the others started whispering that he should be cast out early. Every time a predator showed up, they blamed him. Every time they had to flee, they blamed him. And to be honest, they weren’t wrong, at least, not completely. The attacks did start happening more often once he got older and stronger and his scent got more potent.

But through all of it, the one who stood by him, the one who refused to let them exile him, was his mother. She was the matriarch, and she loved him fiercely. She protected him, defended him, and fought for him. Even when it put her at odds with the rest of the sounder, and even when it put her life at risk.

And then, one night, everything changed.

A leopard attacked. It was sudden and brutal. The herd scattered in panic. And the leopard turned on Pumbaa.

And little Pumbaa was just frozen in fear.

His mother saw, and after she got his siblings to safety. She turned around, and she fought.

She stood between him and the leopard. She held her ground. And for one terrifying, heartbreaking moment, she made herself a wall. But the leopard hadn’t come for Pumbaa at all—it had been waiting for HER.

It knew she wouldn’t abandon him. That she would come after him. And that pretending to go after Pumbaa would put her right where it wanted her.

Pumbaa watched it happen. He watched her fight, and he watched her lose. And just before she was taken down, she shoved him away, and screamed for him to run. And the leopard revealed that it had been a trap.

Pumbaa obeyed his mother and ran. But he heard what the leopard had said. And he never forgot the look in her eyes. And he never stopped believing it was his fault.

The next morning, the herd didn’t say a word.

No one would look at him. No one offered comfort. The new matriarch, his aunt, maybe, or some other senior female, finally broke the silence and said the thing everyone else was thinking: “If you stay, more of us will die.”

And just like that, it was over. There was no argument, no goodbyes, no second chances.

He was cast out of the sounder. Alone, and grieving the loss of his mother. Just reeking of shame and guilt and everything else that he didn’t know how to fix.

He never bothered trying to find another herd.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want connection, but because he genuinely believed no one would ever want him again. I mean… why would they? His own family gave up on him. His scent was too dangerous. Alone, it kept him safe, but in a crowd of other warthogs, it was like painting a target on the sounder.

So he just wandered around.

He wasn’t lost, but he had convinced himself that he deserved to be lost.

That is… until he met a loudmouthed, fast-talking, high-strung little meerkat who apparently had a weak sense of smell and zero survival instincts. And for the first time in his entire life, Pumbaa wasn’t too much. He wasn’t a burden. He wasn’t a threat. He was just… Pumbaa. In fact, he was Pumbaa, the one who could PROTECT. The one who could keep predators AWAY from someone. He could redeem himself.

And suddenly, Pumbaa felt like his life had finally begun.

—

(Bonus heartbreak! Because why not!!)

So in my fanfic, Pumbaa actually did have a friend once, just one.

Her name was Kanisha, and she was part of a migrating sounder that briefly joined his herd when they were both piglets. The two of them became fast friends almost immediately. Kanisha didn’t care about his smell. She didn’t even notice it. She just liked playing with him. She didn’t understand why everyone else avoided him. She didn’t understand the whispers. She didn’t understand the danger.

But oh boy, her family did.

And when they realized how many predators were showing up near the sounder, they up and left, suddenly, and without warning. Pumbaa didn’t get to say goodbye. Neither of them understood what was happening. They were just separated.

And Kanisha became the first person Pumbaa ever lost that didn’t involve death, which hurt in a totally different way.

(They reunite after The Lion King 2, and it’s emotional, it’s awkward, and it grows into this fun, complex, polyamorous queer dynamic. But I’ll shut up about that now.)

—

TL;DR:

Pumbaa isn’t alone because he farts too much.

He’s alone because his overactive scent gland made him a danger to the people he loved. Because the very thing that kept him safe from predators is what got his mother killed.

He was taught, from a young age, that loving him comes with consequences, and he never wanted anyone to pay that price again.

But to me, the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing about Pumbaa is, despite all the horrific rejection, he’s still gentle. He’s still kind. He still chooses to believe in friendship and love, even when the world gave him every reason not to.

Which, to me, makes him one of the most resilient and emotionally nuanced characters in the entire TLK franchise.

OKAY I’m gonna stop there before I start crying over a cartoon warthog again. But THANK YOU for asking. I love talking about this boy more than words can express!!!!

[eddiesghxst]

do you or have you ever played gta 5? i’m on a kick from it. i never play video games (besides sims 4) but my brother is a heavy video game player, wants to be in the business programming and all that so he introduced me to it. but i have a huge crush on one of the characters who’s a little more controversial just because he’s crazy but he’s also such a loser. Trevor Philips. in fucking love.

Eddie and Trevor are complete idiot losers. however, i like to dig into how crazy Trevor is and how soft it’s canon that he gets for those he loves. I like to think that Eddie is the same way. Yes protective but maybe because he has never had a girl he loves this fiercely, he holds on to her like a porcelain doll. Anyone that looks in her way, anyone. any friend no matter how good has no fucking business looking in her way if it’s nothing but good.

there’s no way he can be cannoned as weak, he’ll get into a fist fight if it means someone made you even doubt yourself, he’ll come home with a broken nose and fuck your security back to the top where it belongs. he’ll walk a million miles carrying you if it meant you didn’t want to.

🫶 anon

god he's so whipped, this is true

ALSO i just wanna add, i was rewatching season 4 for the 50th time whilst writing and idk why i never paid attention and realized wayne has a thick ass southern accent and i'm blaming it on me being from texas and that being the norm for me😭

BUT THAT BEING SAID i like to imagine wayne passed a bit of his southern tendencies onto eddie

and one thing about southern people is they don’t fuck around when it comes to people they love okay and we can already see that with the way wayne was so protective over eddie

SO (bear with me) obviously wayne and eddie only had each other and were tight-knit in some manner, but when you come along ?? god, eddie is on ten

that man will a thousand percent call anyone out if they’re eyeing you for too long. he puts his hand in your back pocket when you’re walking together, or he makes you slip a finger through his belt loop. when you stop at the gas station and eddie gives you some money to get a snack, he intently watches through the window as he pumps the gas, just waiting for someone to get too close to you so he can walk in there and tell them to fuck off

and he knows you can take care of yourself, he knows you can fend off any annoying asshole that can’t take a hint, but he can’t help the knee jerk reaction he has when anyone tries to fuck with what’s his. so yeah, he’s protective (maybe too protective sometimes), but it’s all out of love and he looks cute when he’s disgruntled so it’s a win win.

and ofc wayne’s southern ass is protective over you too, it’s like you’ve got your own little grumpy guards🥰

also no i have not played GTA, should i look into it ??👀 i’m highkey thinking abt getting into gaming🤭 i like mortal kombat but i’ve only played the mobile app and i also fw COD bc….ik y’all seen ghost and könig and price and and and— god they’re all so fuckin fine bye

[ixtaek]

Some Crossing of Stars facts, to avoid writing:

Neep’s name was originally Radish. However, I felt like there were too many Sages with R names so it was changed. A Neep is a turnip, so he’s still a root vegetable!

Daz’s name was Gaz (because he was a gas-bag). Somehow I convinced myself there were also too many Gs. There are now too many Ds but that’s beside the point

Cal and Rugon were supposed to be good friends with a hinted will-they-or-won’t-they but I didn’t wanna have too many romances going, and since Syn and Rig are too precious to me, I shall have to wait for another day to push my Goron x Gerudo propaganda.

There was an arc called the RED arc where they would have met the ghost of Zelda’s dad, who was controlling a small space ship a la King of Red Lions. His name was Daveed. But Zelda had enough trauma without that. Maybe someday!

There is supposed to be an implied lot of sub-missions between the temples where they helped random planets and NPCs but I didn’t make that clear enough for my tastes

All the Temples can talk to their Sage, but there wasn’t a chance to explore all their personalities. The Shadow is a strict and horrible teacher who can talk to its Sage but chooses not to. The Fire was kind of a mechanics nerd that loved inventing things. The Wind was constantly beset by wanderlust and boredom. Even the Earth, which is mostly guns, and the Twilight, which doesn’t even have a ship, had distinct personalities. Only the Forest lacked an identity independent of its Sage. I wrote a fic where all the Temples got stuck in their Sages’ body due to an item but I dunno if I’ll make it canon.

Syn was originally much more hostile to Rigito. The Shadow had never deigned to talk directly to her throughout her childhood so she was convinced Rig was doing some sort of long-running gag about the Light talking to him.

Ganon (and once he was dead, Doc) was going to be the Sage of Time. This was why he could time travel. But TWO bad Sages? That’s just silly

Doc was never supposed to admit to being a Great Fairy, always denying it even when explicitly seen doing Great Fairy stuff.

I really wanted Link to use the Tri Rod at some point after EoW came out to parallel Zelda using the Fierce Deity Mask but a chance never presented itself

Link didn’t talk nearly as much about his farm as he should have. That boy loves his goats. He also didn’t talk much about his family but that’s par for the Links (that pun works on so many levels!)

[tennessoui]

Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

[my-mt-heart]

Hi again! Do you remember me still? I left a couple of reviews before for Diverged and Find Me. Thank you for all that you do on here. I read your review, and wanted to show my support again. My only disclaimer is that I cannot catch everything but these are my thoughts. Here you go.

1. First up, the laughable theory that Leah would be coming back with Daryl's child has been permanently debunked. It seems like no one can pass gas in peace without the Pope sanctioning it, so pushing out a whole baby is out of the question. :P

1b. On a serious note, however. It seems that Leah prefers and values a family that wars together, a family she can "create" over a family she is related to by blood. This is like Carol and Daryl. But darkly inverted.

2. It was not lost on me that Leah and Daryl's first meeting and reunion was mediated by Dog. But you know what I caught, as well? This is interesting. You do not see Leah interacting verbally with Dog at all. There's nothing. And Dog is very obedient, with no character at all. I have a hunch that this is set up that way on purpose. Because when Carol is introduced to Leah (and trust me, I feel she will be) we are going to see a very animated Dog. That bonding with Carol in Diverged was not there just for filler or giggles. Pay attention to all of the scenes. With Dog. Daryl, most importantly. With what outsiders in Leah's group are making of Daryl and Leah's relationship and sex life. It is setting the stage for Carol to appear.

2b. On a lighter note, Dog is totally a ladies dog. Because if Leah was named Leon instead and was a man, Dog would still be with Daryl. I am sticking with that theory. And I'm not sorry. :P

3. Carol's absence. Seriously. Think about it. In Find Me, there were constant comparisons in the scenes between Leah and Carol. But there is none in this episode. That is not lazy writing. The reason Carol is contextually absent in this episode, is because there is nothing in Daryl's mind about Carol to relate Leah to. Not only is she not the Leah we saw in Find Me, but she is NOTHING like Carol in Daryl's mind. He knows Carol is loyal, fierce, and a warrior. She would do anything for her family. But she is not cultish and ruthless, unlike Leah, who is.

4. Did we notice that Daryl and Leah got a chance to speak a few times this episode, a couple times they spoke about them, their relationship? I. LOVE. THIS! Why, oh why, you may ask? Because, it is the exact opposite problem Carol and Daryl are having right now! They aren't taking about THEM. EACH OTHER. Their RELATIONSHIP. The fact that they show Daryl and Leah speaking openly about it, with her group making jerkface comments about it, juxtapose to Daryl and Carol always speaking privately about their relationship and everyone just knowing and honoring the bond Caryl share afar off, shows that strength of the Caryl relationship and its superiority over the Daryl/Leah one. Again, the fact that they can speak openly shows communication was never their issue. And that their relationship was not really special. But something about the Caryl dynamic seems very sacred and a space just for the two of them. And to put it more simply, communication is an issue for Daryl with Carol unlike with Leah because his feelings for Carol run far deeper.

5. Pope mockingly talks about Leah having a "fishing expedition" with Daryl. Interesting word choice, methinks. Because 'expedition' conjures up images of exploration, don't you think? Which is in the future for Caryl via the spinoff. But when Pope uses it in reference to Daryl and Leah, I understand that the technical definition of expedition is exploration for the purposes of war or research. Which means...that sort of confines Leah to this category where Pope is basically telling her that her feelings for Daryl are really serving their family. It isn't of her own doing. Hmm. But Carol chooses to love Daryl and her feelings for him are as boundless and borderless as whatever exploration they undertake.

6. Pope seems to think because he is "chosen" that also makes him a prophet, apparently. That comment about Daryl's true motives wanting to be intimate with Leah shows he knows no more than the rest of his people and he clearly doesn't know Daryl. Because, sure, that's what he would be thinking about, knowing that Maggie and her people are in danger, he is trying to get some. 🙄 but if they misread Daryl's feelings, that works for me. I think Daryl would want to be misinterpreted in these circumstances if it camouflages him a bit.

6b. Do not want him having to have a trial of being intimate with Leah to prove anything, though. Unlikely. But because Pope is willing to set other people on fire, I cannot honestly say it would beneath him since...well, that is my next point.

7. *Sigh* I will start this off by saying, the next statements I write are for educational purposes only. I am not making any claims to spark a debate on religion and its factions. These are just my findings and how I believe they shade in Pope's character more. (1) First, the dark lighting, the candle lit rooms that do not look romantic or homey in the slightest, the jargon their group uses, Pope speaking in riddles like he's received some divine enlightenment that makes him judge Jury and executioner, and their rituals come across as positively cultish. Cult movements characteristically strip its members of their individuality and brainwash them into believing that they are special for all the wrong reasons. This repeated indoctrination allows them to commit merciless and ruthless crimes. Their understanding of love and devotion is warped. It is strange to me that God, Jesus and other figures from the Bible are at the focal point, since the early movements of Christianity were movements of brotherly love, servitude in love, self-sacrifice and a nonviolent approach to the problems of a corrupt society. But here, Pope thinks that he is ordained to put someone else's life on the line (Leah) or take another's life (Ossie/Aussie his name was?) To judge if another is worthy or chosen/validated? This is abusive. And I can see him abusing his authority in making Leah throw herself at Daryl or testing Daryl with it (particularly when Carol comes into play) regardless of it being likely or not. Their view on sex seems to be a war tactic, as well.

8. It is interesting that Pope loves the "forging/trial by fire". It has a Biblical feel to it, and I can see the parallel in the prophetic ending of the world by fire, and those making it through the fire are the chosen ones, which Pope seems to echo. If that is the case...Carol and Daryl coming through this and venturing out on their own into the world (totally new and unseen to them) makes them a post apocalyptic Adam & Eve, doesn't it?

9. Sadly, cults and gangs have one thing in common: you can't ever really freely leave. Getting killed typically is the only way out. Which to me...foreshadows Leah's demise. I could be wrong. But that is what I am picking up. When Pope says that you "never leave your brother in a fire" that seems to be indicative of something pertaining to someone in that group. Daryl and Leah can't ever really be brother and sister since it is established their relationship was categorized as romantic at one point, and Leah reiterated that in the episode. However, she is a sister to the rest of them there (and a 'beloved' daughter of Pope. That will be tested. And I think she will fail. And then will be scorned when she learns that Daryl did indeed lie to her -and by omission- since I am willing to bet she does not know about Carol. At. All. Leah is going to crash and burn after that.

10. Bonus notes: the abuse Daryl is put through in this episode makes me miserable. I am sick of him being handled roughly, and put in a cage. Carol would never subject her family and loved ones to that, not even putting on an act.

11. I love how when Daryl and Leah meet again, there is literally no hug. I mean, it reminded me of the No Sanctuary/Terminus Reunion. In the woods. Daryl escapes the people out to get him. Leah appears out of nowhere. Just like Carol, Daryl thought he would never see Leah again. Emotions are heightened. Aaaaaannnndddd....no hug. LOL! That is a big clue right there.

12. When Leah says "you're filthy" to Daryl...like, yeah. That's his M.O. Duh. That is not new. Now if she looked at him and said "you're clean" THEN I'd be concerned.

13. Daryl sounding like his earlier season self in this episode gave me feels! 😍

14. Leah saying that they "wouldn't have worked out, not in this world." It is not because of the lives they lead, really. It is because Carol happens to BE in this world.

15. This interpretation of fire in this episode is perfect for Carol's kind of fire and what that represents in her life. She is the Phoenix of TWD.

16. BONUS: Also, the way the Pope talks about trial by fire is so different than the way the original team family experienced it. They relied on each other. Rick never sacrificed his people as the leader. He sought a cooperative effort from his family and prioritized their strengths and they fought through the world together. Daryl knows where he belongs.

17. Lastly, when Leah said that "her family found her. They never stopped looking for her." Ouch! But on a positive note, I hear Carol's lovely voice telling Daryl "until you found me." Daryl never found Leah because he was never meant to. He found Carol because she was his to find and they belong together.

Hope my review was okay!

I do remember, and thanks for taking the time to submit your own review. Some interesting observations here, particularly about all the religious ties. Don't be a stranger!

[cursed-or-not]

I couldn’t get one of the vignettes to work, so naturally this sat in my drafts for way too long, but this is based on a post by @thiscastielhasflown about Cas blushing around Dean :))) 

Cas doesn’t think he’s ever felt so human and so holy at the same time.

He is not who he thought he was, and neither is Dean Winchester.

When Cas accepted his orders, when he agreed to go to Hell, it was under the pretense of rescuing a righteous man. Cas expected a soul so pure it hurts to look at it straight-on, one so bright it burns.

What he did not expect were the ragged shards in front of him, thrumming like a heartbeat.

It’s not the concept of a soul, not the made-to-order design, but instead the lived-in, broken essence of a human.

It is still bright, but just enough that Cas can’t look away.

Here is a human soul: righteous and recalcitrant and real.

Cas doesn’t know how he’s supposed to move on. This is an order unlike any other, a mission he’s not sure he can complete; he doesn’t know how he can pull this soul from the fire with the clinical precision that’s expected of him. He isn’t sure he can leave the scene without leaving fingerprints, a sprawling scar that proves his guilt.

Yes, this is ordered, but it’s also intimate.

Cas knows what souls look like in theory, but this is messy and charred, and there is light shining through the tatters.

Cas is captivated by the man behind it.

Here, Cas can see the toll a lifetime takes on a human; he can see this soul’s--Dean’s-- greatest joys and miseries, can feel his pain and pleasure and imperfection.

It’s achingly, hauntingly personal, and Cas’ face burns at the intimacy of it all.

Cas doesn’t know what this feeling is, but he thinks it’s distinctly human.

Cas is already marked.

                                                         . . .

It happens more and more often now that he’s human.

Cas’s cheeks burn every time a customer yells at him at the Gas n Sip, every time Nora looks at him a little too long, every time he makes a new mistake at being human.

It never feels the same as when it’s Dean making him blush, but Cas has started to forget what that feels like.

When Dean visits, he can’t fathom how he ever couldn’t remember.

They’re in Dean’s motel room together, and Cas is trying with everything in him not to break down.

This man, this kind, beautiful, caring man is the same one who sent Cas away.

He doesn’t know how to reconcile that, and Cas feels ready to burst with everything he’s not saying.

Part of him wants to ask. Part of him wants to make Dean tell him why Cas had to leave, why he wasn’t good enough anymore, and part of him wants to tell Dean that look, this is what’s become of me since then; I don’t have a bed or a home or a family, and I don’t know what I did wrong, but I know you sent me away.

Another part of him wants to cup Dean’s jaw in his hands and kiss him until everything feels okay.

“You know, Cas, it’s real good to see you,” Dean says, and Cas almost yells at the sincerity.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair because Cas wants to hear it and Dean means it and they’re still so far apart.

“You too, Dean,” Cas tells him, because this part of him always wins out.

Dean offers a small smile, but something in his face is crumpled and wavering beneath it.

Dean lets out a quick exhale, and Cas can’t read his expression.

“Cas…” Dean begins, and Cas doesn’t want to hear it anymore.

“It’s okay,” Cas says quickly, and he can’t tell if he means it or not.

Dean closes his eyes.

“It’s not,” he shakes his head bitterly. “I’ll explain it to you, one day, but for now it’s shitty and selfish and not okay.”

Cas doesn’t know what to say. He’s still hurt and angry, but this is Dean, and today is one of the days Cas wishes that he had powers that could heal more than just physical wounds. He wishes he could lay a hand on Dean and make him better, make him smile, but even when he was an angel, the best he could do was heal battle wounds before they bled out. Today, he doesn’t even have powers.

“I believe that you had a good reason,” Cas says honestly.

He doesn’t know what else he believes, but that much has to be true.

“It doesn’t matter if I did,” Dean tells him, but he doesn’t look quite as exhausted as he did before. “I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles gratefully.

“Thank you for coming,” Cas says. “And for letting me stay with you.”

“Well, mi casa es tu casa,” Dean jokes, gesturing around the motel room. “Weird stains and all.”

Cas almost slips up, then. He almost says that a cheap motel room with Dean is better than a sleeping bag in a lonely store, but he catches himself.

“I don’t mind,” Cas says instead. “I’m grateful.” Dean huffs a laugh.

“Come on, man, it’s not like I’m doing a huge favor. It’s a shitty motel room.” Dean grins. “Not even the honeymoon suite.”

For some reason, the idea of sharing a honeymoon suite sets Cas’s cheeks ablaze.

Dean doesn’t notice under the dingy motel lighting.

Later, when Dean wakes up to Cas watching him for the first time in years, Cas doesn’t notice the blush coloring Dean’s cheeks, either.

                                                     . . . 

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air like the Sword of Damocles, but Cas thinks that the only one threatened is himself.

Dean won’t say it back, Cas knows.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but Dean won’t look him in the eyes and Cas needs to say something else before this stretches on any longer and his cheeks are burning again.

Cas wishes he could write off the blush as an effect of the poison, but he thinks that whatever this is won’t break as easily as a fever.

Cas looks away.

“I love all of you.”

He leaves it at that.

                                                         . . . 

Cas has been back for three days when the house of cards finally crashes.

It’s been delicate, since he got back.

He understands; you can’t just drop a love confession on someone and expect it not to get awkward. Cas may not understand everything about being human, but this, he does.

At first the lack of confrontation surprised him. Looking back, though, Cas thinks that it’s the most in character reaction possible.

Cas had come back, Dean had pulled him into a fierce hug, and then they’ve been carefully avoiding any alone time since.

Cas thinks this might be the kindest reaction, might just be Dean trying not to break his best friend’s heart, but the silence is worse.

Cas has accepted his role in all of this, and he knows not to expect more than he can have. Still, if nothing else he wants his best friend back.

Cas has never really been one to take the first step, but considering the leap of faith he took before the Empty came, he figures he can manage a conversation.

He waits until Dean’s the only one left in the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says carefully, and Dean doesn’t look as trapped as he expected. Mostly, he just looks tired.

“I think…” Cas struggles to find a way to begin. “We should talk.”

Dean nods around his beer, taking care not to look at Cas.

Cas stays on the other side of the counter.

“I know that we’re acting like nothing has changed,” Cas begins, “And if that’s what you want, then I understand. But if you have any… concerns, then--”

“Really, Cas? Concerns?”

Cas blinks. “Maybe that’s not exactly the right word, but--”

“Cas, that’s not even the right sentiment,” Dean responds, finally looking at him.

“Then what are you looking for?” Cas asks, and he hates that even now, he doesn’t know.

“What am I looking for?”

If Dean objected to “concerns,” his offense is even greater now. Cas’s brow furrows.

Dean continues, “Cas, you told me you love me!”

Cas almost flinches.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I did.”

Cas can’t meet Dean’s eyes, but he’s not sure he wants to know what they’re saying, anyway.

“There’s-- kind of a lot to unpack there, man,” Dean says, and his voice is marginally calmer.

Cas looks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Cas knows immediately that wasn’t what Dean was looking for, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what he is.

“You’re sorry, huh?” Dean’s voice is low, and Cas thinks there might be something ragged in it.

Cas blinks. “Yes.”

Dean huffs a bitter laugh.

“Okay, then. Think we’re done talking.”

“What-- Dean,” Cas protests, utterly confused as to how this went so wrong.

Cas steels himself to continue. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, but Dean, I don’t want-- I can’t lose you.”

Something in Dean’s expression softens, but his shoulders stay tensed.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he offers. “Listen, I get it. You said something on impulse and I misinterpreted it and now you’re sorry, apparently. Yeah, it sucks, but you’re not gonna lose me.”

Cas feels confusion etch onto his face.

“You think that my apology means I regret it?”

Dean looks at him like it’s obvious.

“I mean, it’s understandable,” Dean replies, gesturing widely.

Cas can’t believe how wrong this conversation is going.

“Dean, of course I don’t regret it,” Cas admits, still at a loss for how Dean could have reached that conclusion. “When someone confesses something in their dying moments that they’ve been carrying with them for more than a decade, they’re not generally lying.”

Dean looks at him half in doubt and half in wonder.

“I never said you were lying,” Dean grumbles in protest. Cas thinks the sullenness is more for show than anything else.

He has moved to Cas’s side of the counter.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Cas responds, and he knows it’s not witty or clever or important, but maybe if he keeps reaffirming it, Dean will start to believe it.

“I’m glad,” Dean says, and he puzzles Cas by offering him his beer. Now, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Cas isn’t sure why, but he takes the beer. Dean’s eyes track the motion as he raises it to his lips, and Cas’s cheeks burn when Dean watches him swallow.

This time, Dean notices.

“You blushing?” Dean asks through a cocky grin, and damn it that just made it worse.

“No,” Cas grumbles.

“Now you’re lying through your teeth,” Dean accuses, taking his beer back and taking a sip.

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the other thing,” Cas responds, trying to regain his composure.

Dean’s joking disposition crumbles, and he glances at Cas’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean nods, looking like he’s milling something over.

He seems to decide to take another sip of beer instead, but as he raises it to his lips, he says, “I love you, too, you know.”

Of all the responses Cas was expecting, this never made the list.

His face is hot again, though, and his heartrate is a little too sporadic, and if Dean keeps drinking beer like it’s a normal friday night, Cas is going to go insane.

His brain finally catches up to the situation.

“You what?” Cas asks incredulously.

Dean’s casual dimeanor finally falls away, and this time it’s his turn to blush as he looks at Cas over his beer.

“Love you,” Dean mutters, and it’s barely audible, but it’s more than enough.

Cas gives himself five more seconds of shocked staring before he huffs a laugh.

“I never thought…” Cas doesn’t know where it’s going, just knows that he’s never felt awe like this before.

“Yeah, me either,” Dean admits. “But it’s true.”

Dean sets his bottle on the counter, and Cas watches the movement, heart still beating a little too fast.

There’s still too much to say and also nothing. When Cas turns to face Dean, Dean takes his face in his hands.

Cas looks at him in wonder, eyes tracing the freckles and smile lines on his face.

Dean bites his lip quickly, still considering something, and then Cas doesn’t know who leans in first, but they’re kissing.

It’s honey-sweet and molasses-slow, and Cas thinks that this has to be why freedom exists.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes​ 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

"No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?"

"Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we're gonna heard about them, one way or another!"

"So, let's enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin's pies are so delicious!"

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book. 

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm's daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Smithson?" answered the woman with a gentle smile.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!"

"Okay... Wait, you understand French?"

She laughed.

"Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?"

"She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don't be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group."

"Of course!"

"By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?"

"YES! A GAME!" happily screamed Andy, Michael, and Simon.

"Ouch! My ears!" grumbled Wicki.

"Okay, let's play! What are the rules, doll?" asked Donny.

"It's simple: I'll talk in a language to each of you in turn, and you have to guess how many languages I can speak!"

"Sounds good to me! Start whenever ya want, pretty!"

Suddenly, all the Basterds were quiet and waited for (Y/N).

While she was mentally choosing the first player, the other Basterds noticed the enamored gaze of Wicki towards the blonde woman. Time to play some trick on the suitor...

"I'm going to start with... Mr. Hicox!"

"I'm always ready, my dear!"

"Eres muy guapo. ¡Un verdadero caballero!" (You're very handsome. A real gentleman!)"

"Mmmmh... I would say that you speak Spanish!"

"Exactly!"

"And what did you say?"

"I told you that you were handsome, and you look like a real gentleman!"

The Basterds laughed and whistled.

"Well, milady, you're absolutely astonishing! Hearing you speaking Spanish is like listening to a nightingale!" answered the British spy with a seductive wink.

The young woman chuckled before asking:

"You sweet-talker! Alright! Who's next?"

"Why won't you ask Omar?" snickered Michael.

"Go to hell!" grunted the latter.

"Don't worry, Omar: it's only for fun. Are you ready?"

A charming smile came across Omar's face:

"Please, go ahead!"

"Okay... Nǐ hěn yǒnggǎn, wǒ hěn gāoxìng chéngwéi nǐ de péngyǒu!" (You're brave, and I'm happy to be your friend!)

Omar was puzzled.

"It does not sound like a European language..."

"You're right, it's not from Europe..."

"Mh, that's tricky... I don't know!"

"Give it a try!" she gently encouraged him.

The soldier scratched the back of his head:

"Er... Is it Japanese?"

"Sorry, but no. It was Chinese!"

"CHINESE? REALLY?" yelled Omar under the laughs of his comrades.

"Yes, indeed. I learned it when I was younger, thanks to my nanny who came from Shangai! And if you want a translation, it means that you're brave and I am happy to be your friend!"

"Alright... Well, thank you! It was beautiful! Especially when it comes from you!"

"You charmer!"

Wicki raised an eyebrow: he started to guess what his friends were doing, and he was not pleased...

"Fine, let's go back to the game, would you? The next one will be... Donny!"

"At your orders, baby doll!" 

"Then, I start... Sei forte e affascinante! E amo il tuo sorriso!" (You're strong and charming! And I love your smile!)

"Ah, so easy! Italian!"

"Bravo! You're right!"

"And what did you mean?"

"I said Donny is strong and charming... and I love his smile!"

Donny put his large hands on his chest, faking to be enthralled.

"And she speaks Italian! Gosh, this woman is perfect!"

He blew her a kiss.

"Please, receive this proof of love from a Bostonian guy!"

Laughing at his antics, (Y/N) mimicked catching the kiss and holding it against her heart.

"Thank you, Donny!"

As for Wilhelm, he gets annoyed. He did not know if they were trying to woo her for real or if they were just pissing him off. In both cases, he hated them at the moment.

"Okay. For the next turn, I'll ask for... Lieutenant Raine!"

"Here I am, pretty woman!"

"Fine, let's go... 'ant qayid rayie qawiun washajae wajadhab jadana!" (You are an astounding leader. Sturdy, brave, and so attractive!)

"Uh, that's a tricky one! Sounds like the Cree language..."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I don't speak Native American languages."

"Okay... So, is it Danish?"

"No."

"Hm... Perhaps Portuguese?"

"Wrong answer. It was Arabic!"

"WOAH!" exclaimed all the Basterds, impressed.

"God, you awe me! And what did you mean?"

"I was saying that you are an astounding leader and that you are sturdy, brave, and attractive!"

Aldo smirked and gave her his best seductive face.

"Girl, give me back my heart, would ya? You stole it since the first day!"

(Y/N) heartily laughed.

"Please, Lieutenant: you're a charmer!"

"Only for you, sweetheart!"

"Verräter!" (Betrayer!) gritted Wicki.

"Fine, let's go! I choose... Andy!"

"At your service, milady!"

"Okay, I start... Du är söt när du ler." (You're cute when you smile)

"Uh... Does this language exist?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, Kagan: use your brains... Ah, I know: Danish!"

"Almost..."

"Swedish?"

"Good answer!"

"Well done, Kagan!" laughed Archie.

"Thanks, sir... But I'm sure that if (Y/N) goes to Sweden, they would hate her!"

"Why?"

"Look at her smile: it's like the sun, the snow would melt in a blink!"

"Oh My God, Kagan! That was the corniest thing I've ever heard!" roared Michael as he clutched his sides.

"Well, I find it cute. Thank you, Andy!"

"You're welcome... By the way, what did you mean?"

"Oh, I said that you're cute when you smile!"

Kagan fiercely blushed.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Pleasure is mine... Hey, Michael, do you want to try?"

"I never say no to a challenge, especially from a beautiful lady!"

"Let's see... Vy geniy i prekrasnyy chelovek." (You are a genius and a lovely man). 

"Woah, Woah, Woah! What the hell is that language?"

"I assure you, this is a real language!"

"Uh... German?"

"NO!" answered Wicki and Stiglitz, offended.

"Calm down, guys! Okay, so if it's not German... It's Russian!"

"Bravo!" (Y/N) clapped happily.

"Wait a minute... If I did not miss the track, we know that you speak 6 languages! And I don't know why, but I think you know more!" said Utivitch.

"That's right! Okay, now, who wants to try?"

"I volunteer!" exclaimed Smithson.

"With pleasure! Let's see which language I use with you..." she wondered.

She got an idea and started to speak in a foreign language:

"Anata wa watashi ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo omoshirokute shinsetsuna hitodesu!" (You're the funniest and kindest man I ever met!)

"Ah, I got it! If it's not Chinese... It's Japanese!"

"Splendid!"

"Well done, chap!" laughed Simon as he applauded.

"Thanks, pal. And may I know the meaning of your sentence?"

"Of course! I said that you are the funniest and kindest man I ever met!"

"And they dare to say perfection does not exist! Obviously, they did not meet our lovely (Y/N)!" shouted Utivitch.

"Please, don't exaggerate!" blushed the young woman.

Wicki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. He swore to God that they would pay for their antics.

"Okay, the next player would be... Simon!"

"Yes, ma'am! Always yours!"

"You trickster! Fine, try to guess this one... אני מאוד מעריך את החברה שלך." (I really appreciate your company)

"No... You speak Hebrew? The language of our people?"

"Indeed."

"But it sounds beautiful when it comes from you! Okay, you know what? After the war, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, Simon! Don't be so crazy!" she laughed.

"I'm already crazy in love with you!"

"And you say I am corny, Michael..." sneered Andy.

"Forget what I said!"

After she stopped laughing, (Y/N) declared:

"So, I think we had three players last. Well, let's the game begin with Hirschberg."

"Hooray! Here I am!"

"Alright! So, try to find this one... Jesteś uroczym żarłokiem." (You're an adorable glutton)

"Well, that's unusual! Er... I don't remember hearing this language before!"

"Give me suggestions!"

"It is a Slavic language?"

"Not at all."

Gerold sighed.

"Damn it, girl! It's a freakin' riddle!"

"Watch your language in front of a lady!" scolded Hicox.

"Don't worry, Archie: I've heard worse before!" said (Y/N) with a smug grin.

"Mh, I don't know... Is it Turkish?"

"Not at all, but I am currently studying this language!"

"Er... Nope, I don't know!"

"It's Polish!"

"My my, she is impressive!" chuckled Aldo as he took a bite of his bread.

"And what did you say?"

"I said that you are an adorable glutton!"

Hearing that, the other Basterds roared with laughter.

"AH AH AH AH! Well done, (Y/N)!" shrieked Utivitch.

"Hey, that's not fair!" yelped Hirschberg.

Upset that she would offend her friend, the woman apologized.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Gerold. I did not mean to..."

"It's alright, (Y/N). Likewise, I'll always forgive you!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because you are beautiful!" answered the soldier with a huge smile.

Relieved, she happily laughed while Wicki contained himself to punch someone's face.

"Okay, now, let's go on with Hugo!"

"I'm listening..."

"I'm sure you'll recognize this language... Du erinnerst mich an einen Wolf: einsam, mysteriös und faszinierend." (You remind me of a wolf: solitary, mysterious, and fascinating.)

"German, without hesitation!" smirked Stiglitz.

"Indeed!"

"And what did she say?" asked Donny.

Hugo stood up and walked towards her.

"She compared me to wolf. She said that I am solitary, mysterious, and fascinating..."

"(Y/N) got the point!" smiled Michael.

Stiglitz arrived near the woman and kneeled with deference.

"You won... I surrender to your beautiful voice! I could not resist you speaking my mother tongue with such delicacy!"

"Nice touch, Stiglitz!" exclaimed Archie.

"Oh, Hugo! You must be exaggerating: I'm pretty sure my accent was a disaster!"

"The only thing pretty is you, (Y/N)" grinned Hugo as he gently kissed the woman's hand... while he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Wilhelm with a roguish glance.

"Trottel!" (You jerk)!" gritted the latter through his teeth.

At the same moment, (Y/N) was amused by her friends' antics: they always treated her like a queen and were very respectful towards her. But this time, she felt that there was something else, like if they were playing a prank on someone...

"You guys are all amazing! But let's finish this game with the last player: Wilhelm!"

Hearing his name, Wicki snapped out of his anger and said:

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Okay so, let's see if you will be able to find this one... Mon cher Wilhelm, tu es un homme courageux, loyal, et séduisant." (My dear Wilhelm, you are a courageous, loyal, and attractive man.)

The Austrian Jewish man smirked:

"Without any doubt, I would say... French!"

"Precisely! You had a good ear!"

"And what did you say to Wilhelm? I'm curious..." asked Hirschberg with a playful tone.

(Y/N) slightly flushed before answering:

"I told him that he was a brave, loyal, and attractive man!"

"How cute!" laughed Aldo.

As for Wilhelm, he was struck: definitely, he was in love! With a smug smile, he said:

"Merci beaucoup pour le compliment, jolie mademoiselle!" (Thank you very much for the compliment, lovely miss!)

(Y/N) was impressed by his hidden talent.

"Oh, what a surprise! I did not know you speak French!"

"I know a few... but I'm sure I would not reach your level!"

"Don't underestimate yourself!"

"Heck, she could give some “private” lessons, if you want!" smirked Andy while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your dirty thoughts for you!" snarled Wicki.

"Okay guys, calm down! Now that everyone answered (Y/N), did anyone count how many languages she can speak?" asked Archie.

"I did sir! And she speaks in 11 languages!" replied Utivitch.

"11 LANGUAGES?" shouted the others.

"Indeed, you counted well, Smithson. But I also speak Portuguese, Dutch, and Slavic languages. And I'm currently learning Turkish, Hindi, Danish, Korean, and Finnish!"

"Girl, are ya planning to learn all the goddamn languages around the world?" asked Aldo, flabbergasted.

"Maybe... Seriously, I've always been interested in languages since I was a little girl and I never stopped my passion! Luckily for me, I was gifted with a good memory..."

"We noticed it." shrugged Hugo.

"Man, we're lucky to have her with us!" stated Hirschberg.

"Well spotted, private!" 

They enjoyed the afternoon, when (Y/N) had to go to the village for some groceries.

Once she left, Wicki turned his angered glare towards his comrades.

"May I know WHAT THE FUCK were you all doing earlier? Wooing her as if you did not know what I felt?"

"Don't be mad, Wicki: we just wanted to make a joke!" said Utivitch who tried to calm his friend.

"I did not find it very funny!" growled the Austrian.

"Don't be so ill-humored! We'll never steal her from you. Of course, we all love her, but she is like a sister or a best friend to many of us!" retorted Kagan.

"Damn right, Kagan. But Wil, ya better tell (Y/N) what ya feel for her! Stop tripping and man up!" ordered Aldo.

"And how I'm supposed to do that?"

"Use your brains, Wicki, and take a guess: why don't you use something she likes to declare your love?" muttered Hugo as he smoked his cigarette.

"Something she likes..." mumbled Wilhelm as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind, and he slightly grinned: maybe he can try something interesting. 

He got up and searched in his bag a book his mother gave him before his departure. Wilhelm felt that the answer to his issue was between the pages of this poetry collection... 

Later in the evening... 

The cool summer night was calm and appeasing for the Basterds as they were finishing the meals brought by their French accomplices. 

At the same time, (Y/N) went for a small walk through the forest. She enjoyed the peaceful surrounding of the woods and sat on a tree stump to gaze at the shining stars who enlightened the dark blue sky.

The young woman slightly shivered as she felt the gentle breeze caress her bare arms.

"Can I join you?" asked a familiar masculine voice.

Startled, she turned and was relieved to see Wilhelm.

"Oh, it's you! You scare me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine... You can sit with me!"

Thanking her, the soldier sat close to the young woman. 

He felt a knot in his stomach as he was nervous: God, this girl would be the death of him!

He straightened up himself and declared:

"It's a nice night!"

"Indeed: I've always appreciated summer nights. I don't why, but it always soothes me... And it reminds me of this beautiful painting entitled Starry Night."

"Made by Van Gogh in 1888, if I'm right?"

"Exactly. It was a representation of a starry sky in Provence... where we are!"

"Interesting, I did not know this part of the story..." smiled Wicki.

He leaned closer and said:

"You know, this landscape reminds me of a poem..."

"Really?"

"Would you like to listen?"

"I would enjoy it!" (Y/N) smiled.

Wilhelm cleared his throat and declaimed:

Es liegt der heiße Sommer (There lies the heat of summer)

Auf deinen Wängelein; (On your cheek’s lovely art:)

Es liegt der Winter, der kalte, (There lies the cold of winter)

In deinem Herzchen klein. (Within your little heart.)

Das wird sich bei dir ändern, (That will change, beloved,)

Du Vielgeliebte mein! (The end not as the start!)

Der Winter wird auf den Wangen, (Winter on your cheek then,)

Der Sommer im Herzen sein. (Summer in your heart.)

When he finished reciting the poem, he saw a beautiful smile across (Y/N)'s face.

"Wilhelm, it was amazing!"

"Danke. Maybe you know the author..."

"I think it's Heinrich Heine!"

"Exactly! It’s the poem titled There lies the heat of summer."

"He wrote such beautiful masterpieces about love."

She shrugged with a sly smile.

"I'm a helpless romantic!"

"Don't apologize: it's one of your qualities!"

He added with a slight blush on his face.

"Besides, this poem has a special meaning for me..."

"Honestly? Why?"

"Yes. Well, when I was younger, I told my mother that I would say this poem to the girl I want to spend my life with..."

"Oh, that's so charming..."

(Y/N) interrupted herself when she realized what happened.

"Wait a minute... Did you mean that..."

Wicki nodded.

"You've guessed right: I love you, (Y/N). Since the first day in our team, I knew you were meant to me. But I was a coward for a long time and I did not know how to tell you the truth... until tonight!"

There was a silence until the young woman let out a relieved sigh:

"Thank God, what a relief!"

"What do you mean?"

She fidgeted with her fingers, slightly embarrassed.

"You know, Wilhelm... You were not the only one who was shy about their feelings!"

"You mean... that it's reciprocated?"

She agreed with a slight nod and a timid smile.

Assuaged by this revelation, Wicki leaned closer to her face, letting a few inches between their lips.

"Ich liebe dich, (Y/N)..."

"I love you too, Wilhelm..."

And they gently kissed, their lips sealed in a tender moment... 

Meantime, the other Basterds were spying on them, delighted smiles on their faces.

"Finally! He said it!" smirked Aldo.

"Look how cute they are!" grinned Utivitch.

"Indeed, they are. But remember guys: if you want to stay alive, don't cha flirt with her!" stated Donny.

"We took note, Don'. Should we celebrate this new couple?" asked Hirschberg.

"We'll do it when they'll come back to the camp. For now, let's them enjoy this moment alone!" tenderly smiled Andy.

"Gentlemen, we shall come back before they notice our presence. Moreover, we have a celebration to prepare!" simpered Hicox.

"The British's damn right! Let's go, boys!" discreetly cheered Michael.

"I'm so excited! It's like another Valentine's Day!" laughed Simon.

As they went back, Hugo looked back at the lovers with a small grin on his face.

"Well played, Wicki. You managed to speak her language, after all..."

Well, he was right: Wilhelm and (Y/N) found the perfect language between each other: the language of love...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it and I’m looking for your requests!

Take care and see you soon! 😘🥰😍🤩😷

[the-scarecrxw]

📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

[anavkourfic]

here’s an excerpt from the scrapped first chapter of no place for firestarters! the only issue with it is that it’s in the wrong pov—originally, i wanted to write this story as switching between lio and galo’s points of view and started out with a galo chapter, then decided to make everything in lio’s pov, rendering this chapter in its current form unusable.

anyway, here it is! 

***

Galo works forty-eight hours straight after the Parnassus falls.

It’s a whirlwind. Galo barely has time to give Lio a celebratory fistbump before they leap into rescue operations. The crew splits up:  Remi, Varys, and Lucia go out into the city to do search and rescue on the crash site; Galo, Aina, Ignis, and Lio stay in the cire to get the Burnish out of the Promatech pods. They free Lio’s generals first, both of whom hug him so tightly Galo’s surprised his spine doesn’t snap, then move on from there.

Galo learns a lot of things in this process:  that the burnish all seem to know and care deeply about Lio, that the pods weren’t designed to be reopened, that even though Heris Ardebeit is helping them with the rescue effort, she still can’t see what she’d done wrong. Ignis eventually escorts her elsewhere, out of range of Lio, Galo, and Aina’s combined fury.

Though, that fury is nothing compared to the look in Lio’s eyes when they get to the first empty pod.

Galo thinks at first that someone has already emptied this one—they have civilian EMTs helping as well, spread out through the engine to cover as much ground as possible—until he sees that the arm and leg cuffs are still closed and intact. They’re thick, so it usually takes monster bolt cutters or the jaws of life to cut them, but these haven’t been touched. It doesn’t make sense, unless someone managed to slip free. Which, also difficult, since the cuffs have been tight enough that it’s hard to clip them without also cutting the person they’re trying to free.

“Did they put in empty pods?” he says, scratching the side of his head. The generator behind them sputters, echoing along with the many others in the cavernous space. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone–“

“Stop.”

Lio’s voice is sharp, and Galo stops immediately. He sees that Lio’s looking down at the floor of the pod and—oh. Oh. There’s a pile of ash on the floor. Galo’s mind goes back to the cave, to Thyma, and oh. Shit. 

“Serial numbers,” Lio barks, whirling around to where Aina’s helping a Burnish to the stairs of the scaffolding “Do the pods have them?”

Aina balks for a second [Galo would too in her position; Lio looks almost like he did with the dragon, minus the colour palette change and the flaming hair.] but she says, “I’ll ask Heris. She’s in medical, and I’m headed there anyway.”

“I d-didn’t see anything,” the Burnish says. She doesn’t look that much older than Lio, but Galo has no concept of how the Burnish age; they could be twenty, or sixty. “Sorry, boss.”

Lio’s expression immediately softens.  “It’s alright, Alexis, I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

“I want to help,” she insists. Galo notices her legs are trembling; she’s on the verge of collapsing, but she’s still giving Lio a fierce stare. “Please, I want to help–“

“You need to recover first,” Lio shuts her down. “Talk to me again when you’ve gotten some sleep and you’ve eaten something.”

Alexis gives him a noodley salute, and then Aina helps her down the stairs. Lio watches her go, then turns to the pod again. His hands clench into fists.

"Do you need me to get something to write stuff down with?" Galo asks tentatively. "If there are numbers. Or anything else?"

Lio doesn't respond for a long moment, but then he nods once, and Galo runs off.

It sucks. There's probably a stronger word for it, but Galo's brain is too foggy to come up with something more eloquent. So he just mutters, "This sucks. This fucking sucks," as he looks for a notepad.

The pods do have numbers; Heris says they're "for inventory" [Lio's jaw clenches so tightly Galo hears it click shut] and that there's "subject data for each one." Lio logs each number in a pocket-sized notebook, strings strands of caution tape that Galo found in the back of Burning Rescue's truck across the entrance to each pod, to make sure no one tries to step in.

"We need....urns, or something," Galo says to Ignis, when he's taking a water break and explaining the situation."Lio keeps talking about a mass grave, but I can tell he doesn't like it."

"I'll see what I can do," Ignis's face is unreadable behind his sunglasses. He's been assigned the leader of rescue efforts, meaning he gets to deal with all the bureaucratic and organizational stuff that makes Galo dizzy. "There are a few favours I can call in."

When he relays this to Lio, he gets back a "Nothing happens without my say-so," and then, a few minutes later, a very quiet, "Thank you."

Getting everyone out of the core takes up the first twenty-four hours, and then Galo suits up to help with search and rescue. Turns out that a giant spaceship falling out of the sky from several hundred feet can cause damage in a pretty large radius. He finds and frees people in fallen buildings, in piles of rubble, in the cavernous cracks around the Parnassus's launch site. And then there's the non-people related things:  flooding because of burst pipes all over the city, a couple fires from damaged electrical equipment, a terrifying gas leak that nearly causes an explosion by the main medical tents. There's so much damage, and so many casualties, it makes Galo's chest ache if he thinks about it too long.

He sees Lio in bursts—working to help clear ground to set up tents for displaced people and the Burnish, talking with a group of medics from the nearby hospital, giving orders to a mixed group of volunteers and Burnish who are well enough to help. Galo grins and waves to him when he can, feels like he’s walking on clouds when he gets a half-smile and a wave in return.

After two days, Ignis calls all of Burning Rescue into a tent for a meeting.

“The SAR teams from the next cities over came in about an hour ago,” He says. “That means we’re off shift. Seventy-two hour mandatory rest time. No exceptions.”

Galo would normally argue, but the exhaustion’s starting to set in, and the numbers are adding up in his head—two full days of rescue work, ten hours from Lio's dragon to the Promare going back home, a week or so in Kray's prison. Galo's not great at math, especially when he's tired, but however many hours it's been, he hasn't gotten decent rest in a while. And not getting decent rest means he’s nowhere near a decent rescuer.

The rest of the team seems to share the same sentiment. No one argues. Ignis claps his hands.

“Let’s pack up. Galo–“

Galo snaps to attention.

“Sir!”

“Bring me Fotia and his generals. I need to ask them something before we go.”

“Yessir!”

The group disperses. Galo stops by the supply tent to grab a water bottle for Lio, chugs one himself before going out to find Lio and the others.

He doesn’t have to look far. He pushes aside the tent flap and runs directly into something skinny and green. Said skinny green thing yelps and then, with a whirl of motion, Galo's on the ground, flat on his back, and there's a very pointy boot in the middle of his chest. Galo beams.

"Lio! I was looking for you!"

Lio blinks, then seems to realize what happened and leaps back. "Fuck, sorry, sorry." He's still not wearing a shirt, and he looks cold, shaking just a little.

"No, it's fine!" Galo picks himself back up, wincing a little. That didn't do any favours to his bruises from the fight with Kray, or the other fight with Kray, or the time he fell off the Parnassus, or the other time he fell off the Parnassus. [It was a significant pile of rubble.] "Didn't mean to startle you. Do you judo-flip everyone you run into?"

"No," Lio ducks his head, the faint hint of a blush high on his cheekbones. It's cute, actually. Galo's brain short-circuits for a hot sec before he remembers what he was doing.

"Oh! I got you some water," He offers the bottle. "Though, that's probably why you were going in there, huh?"

"It was," Lio takes it. "Thank you."

He tries to open it, but his hands are too shaky. Galo reaches out to help.

"Here, let me–"

"I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself," Lio replies stiffly. The blush has spread to his ears now. He's embarrassed, and Galo would find it adorable if Lio wasn't also so frustrated."

"Doesn't mean you have to," Galo says. "Plus, your hands look pretty busted."

Lio looks down at one palm, torn and blistered. His fingers tense, just a little bit, like he's expecting something to happen.  Galo realizes he's trying to call the fire to his hands, to heal the cuts. There's a flash of pain in his eyes, then he drops his hand and shoves the water bottle in Galo's direction. "Fine."

Galo cracks it open with only a little bit of fumbling. ["Wow, these caps are actually tighter than I thought." "The indomitable Galo Thymos, bested by a water bottle..." "Hey, I can do this, just give me a minute!"] Lio accepts it with another quiet thank-you.

[amethystina]

Hello, for the questions for fic writers :

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

<3 <3 <3

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

Since this question was listed twice I'll just go ahead and give two concepts/AUs!

The first is a Soulmate AU. I've always liked the concept but haven't really found an idea that I like enough to actually want to write it. I'm so busy and have so many other projects going on that I don't really have time to go searching for fic ideas. Instead, my brain has to present a fully formed idea and basically pitch it to me before I'm willing to even consider writing it. And since Soulmate AUs haven't really been high on my list of priorities, that hasn't happened yet. I guess my brain has been busy plotting other fics instead?

(Well, aside from that The Devil Judge Soulmate AU I suddenly came up with and am very intrigued by. So maybe? Who knows?)

The second is a Vampire AU. I cannot believe I've never written a Vampire AU. That's not to say that I'm necessarily obsessed with vampires (I like them a normal amount) it just surprises me that I've never written one. So that I definitely want to do at some point!

(And, unlike the Soulmate AU, my brain has actually tried to present me with a number of ideas for Vampire AUs (the latest one being a The Devil Judge fic, predictably) but I've kept myself at bay for now because I already have too many fics to write. Woe is me.)

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

The sequel to Gravitational Pull? Though "currently working on" might be slightly misleading in this case. I wrote 840 words two months back and have been staring blankly at the document ever since x'D I think I just need to sit down and force myself past that first hurdle because I know exactly what's going to happen, I just need to write it down. But yeah, here's an excerpt:

Ga On tried his best not to look at Yo Han.

The tension lay thick inside the car, the silence pushing against Ga On's eardrums. Judge Oh, who sat in the back, probably assumed it was because of the crisis at hand — apprehension at the thought of what lay ahead of them — but that was only partially true. Ga On was also struggling with an insistent, nerve-wracking hum of concern, making his spine stiff and throat tight.

Yo Han shouldn't be here. He was still injured — only just over a day had passed since he got shot.

No matter how grave the situation was, Yo Han should be at home, resting, not driving them to an area of Seoul that was quickly becoming as chaotic as an active war zone.

Ga On gritted his teeth — until his jaw began hurting from the strain — and looked down at his hands. They were tightly clenched in his lap, his thumb rubbing restlessly over the other. Perhaps Ga On was being too selfish, but he didn't want Yo Han to put himself in danger like this — not when he wasn't at his best. Ga On could admit that Yo Han hid it well but, since Ga On knew where to look, he could see the subtle delay in Yo Han's movements and how he held himself slightly more rigidly than usual.

Yo Han was still in pain.

He still had a hole in his stomach but pretended that he didn't.

And Ga On had to play along, since Kang Yo Han couldn't show any weakness. The people around them could know that the chief judge was injured. The fact that their opponents did was already bad enough — and was probably why they chose now to try and overthrow him. They didn't think Yo Han would be able to fight back as fiercely — with as much precision — as he normally would.

They were expecting an easy victory.

But, even injured, Yo Han was a force to be reckoned with and, as always, would do whatever it took to win.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Possibly TMI incoming and TW for bullying and verbal abuse.

I think I'll take this opportunity to say how happy I am that I started writing fanfics. Which is extra hilarious when you consider the fact that it started with a thought as basic as: "I want to write at least one before I die." And then, ten years later, here we are. And I'm in no way exaggerating when I say that it changed my life.

One concrete example is that had I never written Autonomy, I would never have met the people who finally told me I was a good person — after hearing the exact opposite for over two years. To make a very long story short, there were several people in my life at the time who, when in pain, took it out on me, often by projecting. They told me how selfish, self-centred, and unsupportive I was. That I lacked empathy and always put myself first. That I was arrogant and a bully, who belittled everyone I spoke to and thought way too highly of myself, my intelligence, and my worth. And, well, I believed them.

Because I can be very firm and dominant, especially in person. So it's very likely that I might (unknowingly) assert myself too much. And since this abuse only happened in private, none of my other friends or family knew about it. This narrative of me being a terrible person was, for about two years, the only thing I heard. Because, to all my other friends, I was so stable and confident — how could I possibly be doubting myself? And why should they remind me that I was a good person since, surely, I knew that?

Except no — I didn't. Because I only heard the opposite. For years.

Until, suddenly one day, I got a DM on Tumblr asking me if I wanted to join a Discord server because they'd read one of my Winteriron fics and loved it. And so I did. Despite being scared to death because oh no, now these people who really like my fic are going to find out I'm a terrible person and they're never going to want to read anything I've written ever again.

But, to my absolute surprise, the opposite happened.

The people on this server LOVED me. They genuinely seemed to enjoy my company. And I quickly earned the nickname Steve (it was a Marvel server — I promise it made complete sense to us at the time) because I kept everyone in line and, apparently, was always ready to throw hands for a good cause.

I even had my own gif! The command was !amy and was used when someone was misbehaving to signal "You're on thin fucking ice, buddy."

Sometimes, I'd even wake up to find that the gif had been used in my absence, when other members on the server had basically gone: "Oh man, Amy's going to be soooo disappointed in you when she gets back RIP it was nice knowing you."

And rarely have I been so confused. Or felt so much like a liar.

Because that's what I thought I was doing. I thought I was lying to these people about who I actually was. That I was somehow able to masquerade as a Good Person all while actually being a despicable, selfish monster behind the scenes who hurt every single person I came into contact with.

And, eventually, I cracked. Not in a very visible way to most people, but enough to ask my most trusted friends on that server if I was a bad person. And I was unanimously met with a VERY confused: "What? Why do you ask? You, of all people?"

Because, according to them, not only was I the one who kept everyone in line, but also one of the kindest, most considerate people on that server. I was the conscience. The voice of reason. The one who always listened. The one who always knew exactly what to say when people were hurting. The one who made sure to de-escalate a situation before it could turn into something dangerous or hurtful.

And that changed my life.

Because, all of a sudden, I had a completely different narrative that competed with the one I'd heard for two years. In a matter of days, my world was turned upside down. We're talking a full-blown existential crisis. Because everything I thought I knew about myself was suddenly called into question and I had to figure out where I ended and the lies I had been told by other people began. It was a painful, gruelling, and utterly exhausting process but well worth it for how much it helped my mental health and self-image.

All because of a fanfic. Kind of amazing, isn't it?

The point I'm trying to make is that you'll never know in what place or what shape you might find the support and stability you need to have the kind of epiphany that I did. Perhaps it starts with a gigantic Space AU you wrote because it sounded fun, followed by an invitation to a whacky Discord server? Who knows?

And that's why I still write. And why I still post. And why I try to reply to every comment and ask if I can.

Because I know there are people like the old me out there. People who aren't seen or heard in the way they deserve. And maybe I won't be able to give them that with my limited reach, but I can at least try. I can write stories they relate to, stories that give them solace, stories that make them realise things about themselves, that make them question the abuse they've been submitted to, without even knowing it. That makes them see. That makes them want to forgive themselves and love themselves. That can help them find community and like-minded people.

If my writing can offer comfort, safety, and a feeling of belonging, then it's all worth it.

If I can help one person in the way those people on that server helped me, then it's worth it.

And that's why I'll always be grateful for deciding to write fanfics. Not just because of how it's helped me, but because it's given me the opportunity to help and bring people together.

It's never "just" a fanfic.

So, if you've ever read one of my works, I'm so grateful for your time and attention. And I hope I was able to make you smile or, perhaps, made you feel a little less lonely, even just for a short while.

I appreciate you and wish you all the best. Take care 💜

Questions for fic writers

[the-fandoms-georgie]

Okay, so this is the idea I had for a Lord Elrond X Shy! Singer! Reader!

If you would like to write these or take some of the ideas from these just tag me in whatever you write! You don't have to write it exactly like the details, if you only like some of it, just use some of it and be creative. I would hate to take the creativeness away from the writer because of my description being to detailed!

This is what reader will sing like and what she'll sing!

So this idea will take place in Rivendale!

So, maybe the reader comes from a long line of Elves whom are skilled on the arts. Like, readers mother is a singer and their father is a musician, but a fierce warrior. They come from a elves kingdom that is small yet beautiful, stationed in the woods, a snowy land where the moon shines beautifully. Perhaps Gandalf is a friend of readers mother. But reader had snuck from her home, wanting to see the outside world. Reader meets Gandalf, someone who they see as a father-figure. Reader had always sang when they were little but had stopped when they heard news of what happened too her kingdom and found their parents were missing. So, reader stays with Gandalf a while til their arrival at Rivendale. Reader stays there while Gandalf heads out to meet with a dwarf, Thorin. Gandalf, gave reader a dress and hair piece before he left hoping to see her on her birthday.

In their tone being at Rivendale, Reader becomes fond of Lord Elrond and finds herself writing songs about love. It surprises reader because they had stopped writing and singing when they were little. Gandalf had only heard their voice once. Reader was extremely shy around the other elves, especially Elrond. Reader talked to Lady Galadriel every once in a while but that was it. So, readers birthday, wearing their dress and hair piece, goes to Lady Galadriel and speaks with her. Then Reader gets word that Gandalf had arrived in Rivendale with dwarves and a hobbit. Reader races to go Greer Gandalf in an almost tackled hug." Father! It's so wonderful to see you today!" Reader sat happily, having thought he'd miss their birthday. That is when she realized that at this moment, dwarves, a hobbit and the elves were looking at the two oddly, surprised at the fact Gandalf was a father for he never mentioned it nor did the reader til now. Of course, reader only realized that there were others in the room due to a hobbit and a few dwarves either choked or spit out their ale at her "father" comment. Gandalf got a bit defensive at their reaction and had sarcastically questioned them with a "What? Is it hard to believe that I could possibly be a father?" With a chuckle and a roll of his eyes he hugged reader back. "I see you are wearing the dress I got you for your birthday. " Gandalf says to reader. Lord Elrond had heard Gandalf and maybe he's surprised to hear it's their birthday, because reader didn't tell anyone and about Gandalf being their father. Reader tells the story about how he found them after they snuck away from their kingdom wanting to see the outside world. Maybe reader gas one to many cups of wine while telling their story and Elrond just becomes so interested in reader that he doesn't even realize how a smile formed on his lips. Reader even let's the fact that more of her parents were musicians and everyone just asks her to sing, Elrond completely in awe at this, wanting to hear her sing. Reader looks over at Elrond and maybe says, " Only if Lord Elrond doesn't mind. I haven't sung since I was a child so I apologize if I'm rusty" He gives them permission, curious about reader. Reader takes a deep breath before standing, patting Gandalf's shoulder with a smile. She goes over to the elves playing instruments and asks kindly if they can borrow their harp. Reader begins to play ' Carry Me' with the harp and begins singing. Gandalf is in awe, not having heard reader sing in so many years, and Elrond is in love. You could practically see the hearts in his eyes. The company completely like shocked. Them she finishes the song, everyone surprised but loved the song. Later that night, maybe Elrond visits readers chambers and like asks her about her inspiration for the song and maybe they confess to Elrond of her feelings? Maybe they kiss or something?

Tags: @trxblemaker @moony-artnstuff @narnvaeron @legolaslovely @dumbassunderthemountain @thorinthehottotty @tolkien-fantasy @0chemicalwaste0 @theelvenhaven @entishramblings

( hope you guys don't mind me tagging you!)

Let me know your thoughts on this idea!!

[omoi-no-hoka]

Hi, guys! Sorry for the rather long hiatus. Work is still...soul-consuming haha. But I wanted to make a post about one of my favorite Japanese artists and this really cool song he released a little bit ago! All of his songs just got added to Spotify finally yesterday!

His name is 米津玄師 Yonezu Kenshi, and he is amazing. He started out making Vocaloid music under the name Hachi, in which he programmed all of the instruments and vocals. Now he mostly does music with his own vocals, and he writes and produces all of it. He also used to do all the illustrations for his music videos, and he does the cover art for his albums! I’m always swept away by his creativity and the poetry in his lyrics.

And you know how big a nerd I am about words, so here’s my English translation of my favorite song from his latest album. The song is called ひまわり Himawari (Sunflower).

This is a bit long, so I’ll put a “Read More” thing here. If you open the whole post, you’ll see my translation, and also a breakdown of my favorite kanji and words he uses. Hope you enjoy!

I hope that everyone studying Japanese can take a look at these lyrics, my notes on them, and see that even just listening actively to music can be a good way to study. 💗

ひまわり　Himawari　Sunflower

悲しくって　蹴飛ばした　地面を強く Kanashikutte kettobashita jimen wo tsuyoku Sorrowful, the ground I had sprung away from 跳ねっ返る　光に指を立てて Hanekkaeru hikari ni yubi wo tatete pulled me back strongly. I raised my finger to the light 愛したくて　噛み付いた　喉笛深く aishitakute kamitsuita nodobue fukaku Longingly, biting down on your lips and whistling deeply その様が　あんまりに美しくてさあ Sono sama ga anmari ni utsukushikute saa That visage is simply too beautiful 舌を打って　曠野の中　風に抗い Shita wo utte, kouya no naka kaze ni aragai Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland 夜もすがら　嗄れた産声で歌う yo mo sugara shagareta ubugoe de utau Sing in the hoarse cries of a newborn through the night 遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 傷ついて　静脈を不意に巡るエレキ kizutsuite joumyaku wo fui ni meguru ereki Wounded, electricity flows unexpectedly in the veins 掻き毟って　吹き荒び　鳴る哀歌 kakimusshite fukisusabi naru erejii Rip it away, rage upon it, let this elegy ring out 聴こえているあの時から　少しも絶えぬまま kikoeteiru ano toki kara sukoshi mo todaenu mama It never dies down, not even the slightest, from the time I first could hear it 震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienaize It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling その姿がいつだって　僕を映し出していた sono sugata ga itsudatte boku wo utsushidashite ita That silhouette, it was always reflecting me もしも同じ街で生まれたら　君のようになれたかな moshimo onaji machi de umaretara kimi no you ni nareta kana If we had been born in the same town, could I have become like you? 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も海を見つめてる hikage ni saita himawari ga ima mo umi wo mitsumeteru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still watching the ocean. 聴こえるなら強く叫んでくれ　僕の名をもう一度 kikoeru nara tsuyoku sakende kure boku no na wo mou ichido If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. 鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor 解き放て　乱反射して遠くへ　鳴り響け tokihanate ranhansha shite tooku he narihibike Let it out, that bent refraction that echoes far into the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 

A Quick Note on Translating Lyrics

I’ve got to say that it’s really hard to translate song lyrics haha. Sometimes the word order is so different between Japanese and English that I have to swap the lyrics. 

遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance

The Japanese is actually in reverse order of the English here. Technically, a very direct translation would be “All the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance, shine the light of your bruised heart.” 

Interesting Words

舌を打って shita wo utte click your tongue

In Japanese culture, doing that “tch!” sound by clicking your tongue is rude. It shows that you are impatient, irritated, or frustrated. Many English speakers click their tongue when they’ve been asked a question and need to think about it. If you are a tongue clicker and you go to Japan, try to curb the habit!

The full lyrics here are: “Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland.”

So this really expresses the pent-up frustration and anger in this person.

嗄れた shagareta, kareta hoarse

What I love about this word is the kanji and its radicals. We have 口 (mouth) and 夏 (summer) put into one kanji. Can you imagine what it would be like if all the heat and dryness of summer was in your mouth and throat, and how hoarse and miserable you would feel? What a cool kanji! (Note: this is a very low frequency kanji.)

切っ先 kissaki point (of a sword, etc.)​; pointed verbal attack

I had a hard time translating this line for a lot of reasons, but in particular I wasn’t sure whether this kissaki was a sword or a verbal attack. I can only assume that because this song talks about crying out and singing so much that it must be the verbal meaning, but Yonezu uses many metaphors so I could also see it being blades. 

人いきれ hito ikire body heat from several people in close quarters; stuffy air

This was a new word for me. Again, I found myself unsure of which meaning to use when I translated it. I went for the “stuffy air” meaning in the end because it was more succinct, but I imagine that Yonezu was probably imagining the former meaning, because he mentions streets and cities, which I imagine to be crowded. He’s also asking a person he’s lost to call out, and perhaps they are lost in a metaphorical sea of people. Then again, summer imagery is strong in this song as well. His word choice is just so GOOD. I wish he’d marry me. 

散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he fire the shotgun into tomorrow

This evokes much more beautiful imagery in Japanese. The kanji for “shotgun” are 散弾銃 (sandanjuu). 散 means “to scatter” or “to spread,” like fallen cherry blossom petals scatter in a gust of wind. So rather than evoking the image of someone pulling a trigger, it evokes the image of the pellets scattering into the air like fireworks or petals almost. 

北極星へ舵取れ　その手で Hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

Ahhhh this is just so freaking pretty. “Take the oar to to the North Star into your own hands.” In other words, determine your own fate, take charge of your life. I just love the “oar” here.

吹き荒び fukisusabi to blow fiercely; to rage, to play (a flute, etc.) for fun

Again, I wasn’t sure how to interpret this line because of the multiple meanings woven into this word. Japanese is SO. COOL. you guys.

哀歌 aika lament (song); elegy; dirge; sad song

My man Yonezu out here bein tricky. Though the official lyrics use the kanji 哀歌, he actually sings this as エレジー (elegy). And that rhymes with the last word of the previous line, エレキ (ereki). Typically, Japanese songwriters tend not to think too much about rhyming. In fact, in Japanese in general, rhyming isn’t thought of as frequently as it is in English. So the fact that Yonezu used this interesting play on words with 哀歌 was pretty cool to me.

震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienai ze It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling

I just didn’t have a way to translate the feelings in the ぜ here. “Ze” is a sentence-ending particle that usually shows a person’s confidence. So for him to use it here as he describes himself trembling, is like he’s putting on a front of confidence when really he’s deeply troubled. 

佗び戯れ wabizare ???????

This was my favorite word in the song, and also the hardest one to translate! It doesn’t appear to be a real word in the dictionary, but it’s an imperative made of two different words: 侘び and 戯れ.

Have you ever heard of the term “wabi” or “wabisabi?” It’s this concept of Japanese culture and aesthetics that focuses on the beauty of impermanence and solitude, and an appreciation for the sorrow that comes with the transience.

To look up the definition of “wabi,” it means “taste for the simple and quiet; rustic simplicity; austere refinement; wabi​,” or “enjoyment of a quiet life.”

But to look up the kanji of wabi (侘), we learn that it means “proud, lonely.”

So this is a very nuanced word! I think that the “wabi” of our word “wabizare” is meant to conjure the meaning of the kanji wabi, “proud, lonely.”

Now, 戯. Zare means “pleasantry; joke; tomfoolery​.” There is also a word 戯言 zaregoto, which means “nonsense” or “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” I imagine that when Yonezu created this word  佗び戯れ wabizare, he wanted to combine the “proud and lonely” with “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” 

鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor

In other words, he’s asking this person to call out to him, but he knows that they are far away, too far for him to hear. He wants them to give out a cry, one that will sound as lonely as it does nonsensical because there is no way it will reach him.

Uh... What Does This Song Actually Mean?

Disclaimer: This is entirely my own opinion and it could be totally wrong! I always believe that everyone can interpret any piece of art how they like.

The tricky thing about Japanese is that you can omit subjects, and Yonezu does that a lot. So unless there’s an imperative or a use of pronouns, I’m not sure which line is about whom. 

But basically, I think that there was this beautiful person that the singer came to know, someone that they loved and admired. But that person fell into a very dark, hopeless situation. They are “a sunflower blooming in the shade, waiting for summer,” and the singer wants that person to reach out to him. “If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor.” 

The chorus is all imperatives, telling the person to leap into tomorrow, to get it all out, to take the oars into their own hands and head for the North Star. 

I think that this song is all about the singer wanting to help a person they care deeply for, and imploring that person to take action rather than suffer passively.

The End!

I hope that you guys liked this post and that maybe you learned some new words and even found a new artist you love! 

Would people like to see more lyrics translations? They’re kinda fun!

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 3 - Practice Begins (Part 5)

This chapter took a lifetime lol

List of translations here

Previous | Next

Students who were earnestly tackling long-distance ran at least six-hundred kilometers in a month. When it was time for the final stretch, it was common for some to run more than a thousand kilometers a month. Kakeru did long training runs, aiming for that level. He wished the residents of Chikusei-sou success, but that didn’t mean he intended to match his own training to the level of a newly-formed team.

“Kakeru, you ran a little too much.”

Kiyose, who was checking the training diaries, told him that after the main training. It was when everyone was working on leisurely cooling down while changing clothes and stretching on the grass of the field.

For the first two weeks, everyone struggled to make it through the regimen, in dire straits with muscle pain, blood blisters and awful foot blisters. However, the members had potential from the beginning. Now, it seemed that their bodies were adjusting little by little: running was becoming a bit more fun, and they had managed to assimilate the regimen written on the training table.

Inwardly, Kakeru was surprised at the high adaptability of the residents, but it was ultimately just beginner’s training. He was pursuing running on a whole different level. Unless someone stopped him, he tended to run for as long and as far as he liked.

“Even at your age, your body isn’t fully matured yet, so you can’t push yourself too hard. What will you do if you overwork your body now and injure it?”

Lately, Kakeru’s body felt very light. He felt that the more he ran, the stronger he got, and the more his speed improved. That was why in actuality, Kiyose’s warning didn’t hit home for him. Even so, he obediently answered, “Yes.”

“On the other hand, Prince is running too little.”

In Prince’s training diary, the word “treadmill” was written once every two days instead of “evening jog”.

“I thought that honesty was one of your best points but…this is actually just ‘I skipped jogging and read manga’, right?”

Even if Kiyose invited Prince to jog with him in the evening, Prince had built a barricade out of manga and stubbornly refused to open the door to his room.

Pursued by Kiyose, Prince desperately explained himself. “That’s true, but I really do read manga while using the treadmill. Lately, I feel like I’ve been gaining some muscle on my legs.”

“Let me see.”

Kiyose touched Prince’s calves to confirm. Seeing that, Yuki warned him, “Haiji, you should really stop that leg-touching habit of yours soon.”

Kiyose got up with a “hmm”.

“It’s true that you’ve made some progress in morning jogging and main practice. But working out on a treadmill while reading manga isn’t a good idea; it’ll ruin your form and it won’t help you develop the sensation of running on a road. I hope that you’ll join the evening jogs every day as well.”

Before Kiyose’s quiet, forceful power, Prince had no choice but to swear, “I will join.” As for Kakeru, he was relieved: he wanted Prince to run outside as much as possible. The treadmill was installed in his room, which was already bearing a lot of weight, and every time Prince trained there, Kakeru’s ceiling creaked like it was going to burst open.

“Unlike our honest Prince, there’s a king who is submitting a diary that’s filled with lies and embellishments.”

At Kiyose’s words, everyone looked at King and laughed. “You found out?” King asked, picking at the dirt with the toe of his shoe like he was embarrassed. “It’s because I can’t run at all and my times aren’t getting any better. I thought that was bad, so I showed off a little in my report.”

“It’s still only two weeks since you started training. Results won’t show that quickly,” Kiyose told King gently. “To become the quiz king, you need to steadily build up your knowledge and skills to hit the buzzer fast, right? It’s the same with track; cheap tricks won’t work. The physical strength and skills are acquired through daily training. Then, the courage to look at your true ability straight on is what will save you in the end in the actual event. I know that you’ve been training seriously, so you can just write down the truth.”

King nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“There’s no particular problems with anyone else so far. But, Nico-chan-senpai.”

“Yeah?” Nico-chan, called by Kiyose, stopped fixing his shoelaces and looked up.

“You haven’t been eating a lot lately.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie. Who do you think is making your food?”

It was Kiyose. Nothing could be hidden from the master of Chikusei-sou, who not only made the training plans but also the residents’ food.

Nico-chan explained himself while scratching his cheek. “Look, I’m stocky, you know? I need to lose some weight.”

“There’s no need for that,” Kiyose cut him off flatly. “You work your body during training, so you’ll lose weight even if you continue to eat the way you have until now. An unreasonable diet can cause your body to break down, so please eat a balanced and proper diet.”

“Got it. But if I can’t tighten up my body well in training, then I’ll go on a diet.”

“I’ve calculated that you should be able to tighten up over the summer for sure,” Kiyose conceded. “If it looks like it’s not working out, then we’ll think about it then. Don’t do anything reckless on your own.”

 “Is it advantageous to be lighter?” Shindou, who was listening to the conversation, asked, tilting his head. “Won’t you have less energy if you lose weight?”

The theorist Yuki answered his question.

“Of course, unreasonable diets are banned. You’ll get anemia, and if you have that, it’ll be dangerous for your heart since that’ll put a burden on it. But fundamentally, you should tighten up your body—whittle away the extra fat and improve your cardiopulmonary functions. Even racing cars have their bodies as light as possible to make their engines more powerful. It’s the same as that.”

“I see.” Shindou withdrew in understanding.

“It’s just as Yuki said.” Kiyose looked over everyone. “Just like racing cars, where the body’s balance is confirmed and the engine’s performance is enhanced through repeatedly doing test drives, a runner also builds up their body by running every day. The backlash will be big if you seek a sudden change, so I want you all to be careful.”

Icing your muscles immediately if they seem to be staying hot after training, even just a little bit. Never missing stretches and massages. Taking supplements for iron and other nutrients which people tend to lack.

After teaching them the various ways of preventing injuries and maintaining their health, Kiyose said, “Now, you’re all dismissed.”

On the way back to Chikusei-sou, Kakeru ended up running next to Nico-chan by chance. Nico-chan was worried about his weight and currently abstaining from smoking, and he didn’t seem to be able to relieve his stress well. He looked somewhat somber.

At times like these, one should provide a fun and lighthearted topic of conversation. However, Kakeru tried thinking of all sorts of things, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Kakeru, what’s for dinner today?”

In the end, Nico-chan was the one who started talking. I really am no good at anything other than running. Kakeru was dejected indeed.

“It’s probably curry. Haiji-san asked me to go to the shopping district to buy curry powder before the main practice.”

Something flickered at the back of Kakeru’s mind. That’s right, the shopping district. Didn’t Musa invite me to go and see his evening jog? Maybe it could be a diversion for Nico-chan.

“Nico-chan-senpai, would you like to run with me tonight?”

“Why are you talking like you’re picking me up all of a sudden?”

Yuki, who was a bit ahead of them, turned back. “Where are you taking me, darling?” he teasingly cut into the conversation with an expressionless face, as though he was wearing an iron mask.

“The shopping district,” Kakeru answered seriously. The three of them were the members who jogged on their own. It was perfect, so they decided to take a look at the “interesting thing” happening to the group jogging together.

As expected, dinner was curry. Kiyose’s personality of not cutting corners was demonstrated in his cooking as well. Before the main training, he boiled the onions until they were soft and tender, and adjusted the taste by uniquely blending the several commercially available curry powders that Kakeru bought.

But no one noticed the depth of the flavor of the curry sauce; everyone seemed more joyful at the fact that the curry contained a lot of boneless pork ribs. Even the colorfully arranged salads were devoured in an instant without a single chance to be visually appreciated.

“It wasn’t worth making this.” Kiyose, with an expression that was halfway between resentment and sadness, put the empty plates in the sink. 

Nico-chan, who seemed to have decided to eat properly, said, “I’ll just have a little more.” He stood before the rice cooker. “More than taste or anything else, just let these guys eat meat.”

The kitchen didn’t fit a table for everyone to eat at. When the dining table was filled, the people who came to eat later would get out a small tea table and sit in the hallway in front of the kitchen.

Shindou and Musa arrived when Kakeru was still eating his curry. The dining table was completely filled, and though the twins were nearing dessert, they didn’t attempt to clear their seats. They were currently in a fierce argument over whether to cover strawberries in condensed milk or milk and sugar.

Kakeru, who was mindful of hierarchical relationships no matter what, held his spoon in his mouth and picked up his curry-filled plate, about to give up his seat at the table. Shindou hurriedly stopped him. “It’s fine, Kakeru.”

“Senpai-kouhai relationships do not matter in Aotake,” Musa said. “That is why it is so comfortable, right?”

“Yes.”

Kakeru sat back down at the table and ate the rest of his curry. For him, who had spent his three years of high school in his track and field club’s dorm, the fact that the upperclassmen ate in the hallway and the underclassmen ate at the table was unbelievable.

From his experience, as an underclassman he had to attend to his seniors’ personal needs, such as washing their shoes and doing their laundry. And of course his turn for the bath was near the end. That was the extent of it, and he didn’t really mind it as long as he could devote himself to practice without his seniors getting jealous of him.

Conversely, when he became an upperclassman, Kakeru didn’t want to let his underclassmen wash his shoes; they were important objects that were required for running. How his former senpai could so easily leave their shoes in someone else’s hands, he had no idea. His teammates in the same grade as him gossiped about him behind his back, saying things like “He’s messing up the order of things” and “Don’t try to look cool”. Kakeru ignored it all. No one could catch up to his speed, and if he could run without reservations when he became an upperclassman, then he was satisfied with just that. He thought he would let them say whatever they wanted.

Within the club, Kakeru had come to be kept at a distance, treated as an aloof and solitary existence. To put it another way, he was somewhat isolated.

But in Chikusei-sou, it was easy to breathe. Nobody cared about the difference between the years of their birth. They said what they wanted to say to each other. Even now, Nico-chan had just put an end to the twins’ fight. It was done forcefully by throwing both condensed milk and milk and sugar into the two’s strawberry bowls.

“You’re awful, Nico-chan-senpai! I wanted to eat it with milk and sugar!”

“I put it in for you, didn’t I.”

“I definitely prefer condensed milk.”

“I said I put it in, didn’t I.”

Leaving the exchange between the twins—who were far from reaching an agreement—and Nico-chan aside, Kakeru helped Kiyose in cleaning up. They stood next to each other at the sink, washing the dishes.

“Haiji-san, what time do you run near the shopping district?”

“Around eight. Why?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Musa, who had come to put his plate away, winked at Kakeru.

Kakeru, Nico-chan, and Yuki went to the children’s playground at the entrance to the shopping district. Running in circles between the sandbox, swings, and slide was monotonous, but there was no other way to keep an eye on the shopping district while jogging.

They ran around thirty laps beneath the dim outside lights in the park, and just when they were feeling pretty dizzy, Kiyose and the others from Chikusei-sou appeared. They turned the corner and entered the large shopping district that led to the station. Their running abilities varied, so the procession was long and stretched out, but Prince somehow managed to keep up.

“They’re here.”

“Let’s try following them secretly.”

Kakeru and the others left the park and entered the shopping district.

There were many private shops lining both sides of the narrow street: the bakery, which had its shutters down after finishing a day’s work; the fish dealer, shouting loudly to sell the last of their wares before closing time; the snack bar, where customers were starting to come in for the night.

Lamps that imitated paper-covered lanterns cast an orange light over the street. People walking home from the station and shoppers aiming for limited-time sales crowded the shopping district.

“No matter how you look at it, Prince is too slow,” Yuki grumbled. “It’ll be hard to run without passing him.”

Kakeru and the others hid behind the passersby and slipped past Prince. When King’s back became visible, they also managed to pass him without being noticed.

“It’s Haiji.” Yuki indicated forward with his chin. Kiyose was running towards them.

“Why’s he coming back?”

“It’s too soon for him to have turned back from the station.”

The three tried to slip past by looking down, but Kiyose didn’t fail to notice them.

“Why are you guys sneaking around?” Kiyose turned and ran next to Kakeru and the others, who were running towards the station, to accompany them.

“What are you doing, Haiji-san?” Kakeru asked.

“I came to see how the guys running in the back are doing,” Kiyose answered.

His management abilities were flawless as usual. Kakeru wondered just how far he was running to keep an eye on everyone. He was a bit worried; his legs weren’t even fully recovered yet, apparently.

Meanwhile, Kiyose was carrying on the conversation with Yuki.

“Kakeru said something interesting was happening with you guys, so we came to see.”

“Oh, you mean that?”

Kiyose pointed straight ahead, where Shindou and Musa were running side by side.

“What are they doing?”

It was understandable that Nico-chan was puzzled. Shindou and Musa were wearing white T-shirts, but there were words written on their backs in jet black permanent marker. Kakeru strained his eyes and read the words on the two’s backs as they were running through the middle of the shopping district.

We’re aiming for the Hakone Ekiden!!

Supporters wanted for Kansei University Track and Field Club

“…That’s some proper lettering,” Yuki commented.

“Apparently, Shindou did it by hand,” Kiyose explained matter-of-factly, his breathing not even disturbed. “I told him to stop since it’s embarrassing, but he insisted that we needed it to raise funds. He actually made enough for everyone, supposedly.”

I’m definitely not wearing it, Kakeru thought. Shindou was always quiet and calm, with an air of aloofness like he wasn’t connected to this earthly world, but he seemed to be quite practical.

“That’s surprising. To think that Shindou-san would collect money so actively.”

“Through running, you can see unexpected sides of people,” Kiyose said with a smile. “Shindou, Musa,” he called out to the two running ahead.

“It seems that these three want to cooperate with your business activities.”

We never said that, we never said that! Kakeru and the others shook their heads in unison. Musa raised his hand a little towards Kakeru, who joined them.

“I will give you one of Shindou-san’s handmade T-shirts as well, Kakeru. Also, please take a look at that person.”

There was a bicycle weaving through the crowd of people in the shopping district. The person riding it was a girl around the same age as them. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was peddling her bike with all her might, her eyes fixed on something. Even from a distance, it was clear that her profile, which could be seen occasionally, was refined and beautiful.

“That’s the daughter of the owner of Yaokatsu,” Kiyose said.

“How do you know her?” Kakeru, who was preoccupied with the girl’s profile, moved his gaze to Kiyose running next to him.

“I’ve been coming here to buy food to cook for everyone at Aotake for a long time now, so I’ve seen her around.”

“Then have you ever chatted with her?”

“Just stuff like ‘these daikon have very nice leaves’ and ‘here’s your two-hundred yen change,’” Kiyose laughed from the corner of his mouth. “Are you curious about her, Kakeru?”

“No, not really.”

He returned his gaze forward. The bike was still heading for the station, popping in and out of the crowd.

“We’ve become a bit famous thanks to this.” Shindou pulled at the hem of his T-shirt. “Every day, we form a line and run like this, and the shopkeepers who recognize Haiji-san call out to us. ‘You’re a student staying in that shabby apartment, aren’t you? Looks like you’re starting something interesting,’ they say.”

“The landlord is a regular at the go parlor here,” Kiyose said. “Apparently, he’s going around spreading word that the ‘residents of Aotake are aiming for the Hakone Ekiden’.”

It was probably a strategy to get the locals involved in the plan so they wouldn’t be able to say “I quit” so easily. Kakeru was impressed with Kiyose and the landlord’s abilities to steadily remove the obstacles in their way. Since he was the first to announce his participation, it seemed that Shindou also intended to take the initiative in doing publicity. The carefree and easygoing residents were rapidly getting carried along by the flow towards the Hakone Ekiden. Will it be okay? Kakeru felt uneasy. However, it was nice and heartening that the people outside of Chikusei-sou showed interest in Kakeru and the others aiming for the Hakone Ekiden.

“She has been showing up when we are jogging recently,” Musa lightly pointed at the daughter of Yaokatsu who was riding her bike. “Her goal is…”

Drawn in, Kakeru, Nico-chan and Yuki’s gazes looked further ahead of the bike. The person who was running there was…

“The twins!?” Kakeru shouted in shock.

“Which one!?” Nico-chan also moaned. Musa shrugged.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter, they’re identical,” Yuki coolly pointed out.

I’m sensing love in the air, Kakeru thought. Jouta and Jouji, running next to each other, didn’t seem like they noticed at all. He would have to advise them to take a proper bath as soon as possible.

For now, it seemed certain that the residents of Chikusei-sou, who worked hard to jog every morning and evening, were becoming familiar to the people of the shopping district.

Previous | Next

[please-return-to-villanelle]

Dani and Jamie fluff anyone?

Cafe AU

Title: Steepingly Splendid

Read below or check it out on AO3

Taking writing prompts for one-shots, send them my way if you want some more content about these two!

Jamie never considered herself an adventurous woman. Sure, she was a bit of a wild thing back in her youth, but as she settled into adult hood, she came to realize that routine and stability were essential to her own happiness. She worked her entire life to achieve this.

As a teenager, she escaped a dysfunctional home environment by fleeing her small town in the middle of rural nowhere opting to take up residence in London. While adapting to urban life, Jamie met Owen, a boy with a heart of gold. He soon became her chosen family and life-long friend. Together, they opened a café in the heart of the city.

Jamie and Owen made quite the dynamic duo. Jamie took on the roles of business manager and barista freeing up Owen to pursue his love of cooking by experimenting with pastry recipes sold at the shop. Needless to say, Owen’s creations were a massive success. Customers lined up around the block before opening salivating at the mouth for Owen’s baked goods. Jamie was able to supplement these goodies with a proper cuppa and collect their cash, of course.

The shop managed to make a humble profit during the first year which enabled them to live a comfortable life in London. Over time, they fell into a comfortable routine. Everything was nice and boring, albeit a little hectic the more popular the “Steepingly Splendid Café” became. Their solution was hiring a new employee to help Jamie carry the extra day to day work while Owen focused on crafting his famous baked goods.

Desperate for help, they hired the first qualified applicant on the spot. She was an American woman named Dani Clayton, newly arrived in London with a fierce determination to serve others and genuine drive to make people happy.  Jamie secretly suspected Owen hired her because he was desperate for a co-worker that actually enjoyed his love of puns.

Over the next week, Dani trained with Owen on the register. She seemed to take to it very quickly and even managed to deliver Owen’s signature appreciative catch phrase to customers with a straight face, “We appreciate your business a latte!”

Dani was capable of running the register solo in a matter of hours. Over the next few days, Dani worked along aside Jamie allowing Owen to spend less time in the front of the shop and more time in the kitchen experimenting with batters, doughs, and jams.  

Jamie felt a familiarity working with Dani despite never having a formal “get to know you” conversation with her. They worked seamlessly in tandem, as if Dani had always been there. At the end of the week, Owen and Jamie decided it was time to expand Dani’s skillset into full-fledged barista. They were hopeful the young American would catch on to brewing drinks as easily as she did to processing payments and charming customers.

To say Dani did not take easily to this, was an understatement.

It was as if her ancestors had desecrated a tea grove many moons ago making it impossible for Dani to make a drinkable cup of tea to save her soul. The moment she touched the leaves, everything went to hell. Truth be told, Jamie felt sympathy for the girl. She was clearly trying to get it right but was becoming more discouraged with each failed brew.

Dani poured the latest catastrophe down the sink. She rested her hands along the edge of the sink, body slumped forward as she released ragged breathes with her eyes shut. Jamie felt a sudden urge to do something, anything to comfort Dani. Seeing her defeated left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. In her indecision, she shifted closer to Dani’s side. The sulking woman must have spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Dani quickly composed herself, trying to brush off her disappointment.

“Well, I guess tea isn’t really my thing.” Dani mumbled, the shakiness in her voice was not lost on Jamie. The underlying tone of sadness tugged at Jamie’s heart. In all the time that Dani has been around, she was like a constant ray of sunshine bringing laughter and joy to the café. Jamie was determined to restore Dani’s sunny disposition she had become increasingly fond of over the past week.

Jamie shrugged trying to convey an air of nonchalance. “It’s to be expected really. You did just come over from America and all. Yanks aren’t exactly famous for making proper tea.” Dani let out a genuine laugh, her posture straightening. She swiveled her head looking at Jamie with an appreciatively, flashing her pearly whites. Jamie felt a fluttering in her chest very much encouraged by Dani’s response to her lighthearted joke.

“Ha, I guess all those years across the pond put me at a disadvantage, huh?” Jamie couldn’t fight back the dopey grin that was surely plastered all over her face as Dani poorly mocked her cockney accent. It was adorable.

“Damn right. We’ve got to knock the bad habits out of ya. Turn you in into a proper Brit if you’re up for it?” Jamie quipped.

Dani’s smile grew wide enough to reach her eyes. “I’d like that.”

“All right. Brewing boot camp is officially under way.”

The timing worked out perfectly. It was their med-afternoon lull. Jamie made an arrangement with Owen to man the front of the shop and deal with customers while she took over the back half of the shop to teach Dani the art of tea making. Before getting started, Dani pulled out a pocket-sized note pad for which she scribbled copious noted throughout their lesson determined to get this right.

“All right,” Jamie began, “first thing is first. We have to boil the water.” She handed over the kettle to Dani, who proceeded to fill up the container until Jamie told her to stop. Then Jamie directed her over to the burner. Dani placed down the kettle, switched on the gas awaiting her next instruction.

“Perfect,” Jamie said. “Now we wait until it gives us the warning whistle. In the meantime, we gather the leaves.”

Dani scrunched her face in confusion, “I thought tea came in little baggies?”

Jamie smiled holding back laughter, “Well good thing I’m here to set things straight.” Jamie could have sworn she saw the hint of a creeping blush spreading across Dani’s cheeks. She brushed it off, blaming the warmth coming from the stove, and focused back to the task at hand.

Jamie grabbed a tin container of earl grey from the selection of tea on the shelves. She placed it on the counter alongside a ceramic tea kettle. She measured out the amount of tea to make a single cup placing it in the kettle. Dani watched with focused attention scribbling on her note pad, hanging on Jamie’s every word. Jamie explained a proper cuppa was all about balancing the type of tea leaves with the optimal water to leave ratio and timing out the steeping part just right. All were crucial for extracting the all the flavor notes. Dani nodded in understanding while scribbling on her pad. Once Jamie was convinced Dani had the methods down, she grabbed a second kettle instructing Dani to brew up her own batch.

Dani poked her tongue out in concentration as she measured the tea exactly as Jamie had done before, her slender nimble fingers delicately weighing the leaves placing them with care inside the kettle. Her glowing smiled warmed Jamie’s insides.

“Not bad for a yank.” Jamie commented.

“Thanks,” Dani beamed at the compliment.

Jamie was forced to tear her gaze from the captivating blonde when the kettle began singing its tune indicating the water was ready. Dani’s eyes lit up with excitement. She rushed over to the kettle placing her hand on the handle to remove it from the stove. Jamie didn’t have time to warn her before the blonde jumped back.

“Owwww!” She howled in pain. On instinct, Jamie grabbed Dani by the wrist ushering her to the sink. She turned the faucet on full blast submerging Dani’s burnt digits under the cool stream of water.

Owen, recognizing what was happening, ran to the stove turning off the range and disappeared into the back office emerging seconds later with a first aid kit. He left it one the counter next to Jamie and pop back up front to attend to a newly arriving customer.

Jamie barely noticed what was going on around her. She was singularly focused on Dani. Her breathing was ragged but calming as her hand cooled off. After a few seconds, Jamie turned off the water. She pulled Dani’s hand closer to inspect the damage which thankfully was minimal. Pink slender fingers angry from their encounter with the hot kettle but all skin intact without any hint of forming blisters. Jamie released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I’m so sorry Dani I should have warned you sooner to use a rag. That kettle gets wicked hot.”

“I-it’s ok.” Dani practically whispered. Jamie was so focused on tending to her injury, she didn’t realize how physically close they’d become. She could feel Dani’s body heat radiating off her from the close proximity. Dani must have noticed this too but made no attempt to move away.

Jamie shook her head, “It’s not ok. How am I supposed to teach you the right way to do things if I’m flat out putting you in harm’s way?” She looked back up from Dani’s scalded hand held gingerly within her own meeting Dan't eye line. Jamie was mesmerized by Dani’s piercing blue eyes, her lips quivering slightly as if she were also processing a million thoughts and feelings in this very moment. A stray lock of golden hair cascaded across the side of her face. Without thinking, Jamie tucked it behind Dani’s ear gently brushing the side of her face.

Dani’s breath hitched. “Well there is one thing you could do?” She said breathlessly.

“You name it.” Jamie said her voice sounded small, unsure of what was to come next. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Dani, “You could kiss it and make it all better?”

The pounding in Jamie’s chest ceased for a beat. Her body tensed and palms felt clammy.  Unsure if this was cardiac arrest or the comings of a panic attack, she tried her best to process what Dani just said; but before she could do that, Dani ripped her injured hand from Jami’s grasp, stammering at the speed of light.

“I-I didn’t mean it like-, I mean, I just asked you to, to. Oh boy. F-forget I said anything, anything at all.”

Fortunately, Dani’s incoherent word vomit was cut short by Owen’s arrival. “Here you go! Ice cubes in a towel to the rescue.” He extended the offering to Dani who accepted, placing it into her injured hand.

“Th-thank you.” She said flashing Owen an appreciative smile and then casting a nervous glance in Jamie’s direction. Desperate to make things less awkward, Jamie wracked her brain for something, anything to say. Her mind was blank. All she could do was feel Dani’s presence clouding her thoughts, her last request to “kiss her” replaying over and over in her mind. With each passing second, it became more and more apparent that her innocent crush on this girl ran much deeper than she initially thought.

“Does it hurt?” Jamie eventually managed to ask, relieved her mind caught up to the the present.

“A little,” Dani whispered, “the ice is soothing.”

Owen beamed with pride. “It seems that was just what you kneaded.” Jamie rolled her eyes as he laughed at his own joke along with Dani.

They decided to try and salvage the rest of the day’s tea lessons the best they could. Jamie performed the functions of making tea while Dani observed taking copious notes. The two of them continued this teaching method until Dani’s hand healed. Over the course of the following week, Dani became more confident with her tea making skills. Her hand fully healed after a few days of icing and resting. She was able to go through the entire process on her own. She even received a few compliments from the customers. Owen even sampled as an impartial third party claiming her brew was “Tea-riffic.”

“Look at you, whipping up tea like you’ve lived her your whole life.” Jamie’s insides performing summersaults as Dani smiled at her like an angel.

“Well, I had an excellent teacher.” Dani said.

“Is that so?” Jamie replied leaning casually against the counter.

“Yeah, she’s a proper Brit and everything.” Dani was inching closer, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. A nervous habit Jamie picked up on during their tea brewing lessons. “She’s seems tough on the outside like she could take on the entire world if she wanted to, but deep down she’s a softy who cares a lot more than she lets on.” Jamie felt her face flush at the insightful compliment. She tried to brush it off by playing it cool which would have worked if Owen hadn’t interjected his own commentary.

“You can even say her caring for others is her special-tea.” Owen chimed in.

Jamie tossed a day-old pastry in his direction. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Owen captured the fumbling pastry, brushing crumbs off his jumper. He leaned over into Dani’s space whispering loud enough for Jamie to overhear. “Be wary of this one. Hell, hath no fury like a woman sconed.”

Jamie rolled her eyes in faux annoyance while Dani giggled in comradery with Owen.

Owen slung his bag over his shoulder heading for the front door before Jamie could retaliate with another pastry toss. “Well ladies I hate to leave you when I’m on a roll like this,” winking over his shoulder at Dani. “but my baking experiments are calling me home. Try to not let anything go a rye! Chow!”

Owen mercifully exited the building leaving Dani and Jamie to man the shop for the rest of the afternoon. “That has to be some kind of world record for most puns about cafés said in a bloody café.” Jamie uttered, grabbing a damp rag to wipe down the counters.

Dani smiled, “His commitment is impressive. Any other lessons for today?”

Jamie grinned as an idea popped into her head. She discarded the towel haphazardly on the counter opting to swagger over to espresso machine.

“Well, since you’re an American and all, we can skip the basics of brewing coffee and move onto something a bit more fun.” The metallic machine grumbling to life after she pressed the on button.

Dani’s eyes shifted nervously. “O-ok. What did you have in mind?”

Jamie grabbed a bar stool from the dining section. She placed it adjacent to the espresso machine tapping the seat as an invitation for Dani to sit. The angelic blonde settled into the seat, moving to take out her notepad and pen. Jamie tugged on the sleeve of her denim jacket. Danie froze, staring at her like a deer in headlights.

“You won’t be needing that.” She said in reference to the pad and pen, “Just want you to watch for now, ok?” Dani visibly relaxed. She stashed the writing instrument and tiny pad in her coat pocket. “Ok. I’m ready.”

Jamie beamed with excitement. This was her chance to show off in front of the woman that was occupying most of her daily thoughts. She streamed a single shot of espresso from the silver machine into a tall white mug and then placed next to Dani. Next, she poured a healthy amount of milk into a steel pitcher which she placed underneath the steaming wand frothing the milk. Jamie could feel Dani’s gaze with every action. It was intoxicating. Once she had the right velvety consistency, she turned her attention back to the attractive blonde woman memorized by her every movement.

Jamie looked at Dani. Tilting her head from side to side to mulling over which creation she should start with. Dani squirmed in her seat twirling her hair to dispel her nerves under Jamie’s scrutiny.

“Ahh, got it!” She said, struck with inspiration. Jamie tilted her head towards the mug as silent instruction for Dani to observe. She was enthralled as Jamie poured the frothed milk, twisting and turning the mug until her creation came to life. Her heart fluttered in her chest when Dani’s eyes widened in awe.

“Is that a tulip?” Dani asked.

“It is. You mentioned they were your favorite flower. What do ya think?” Jamie asked.

“It’s.. It’s just so, so..” Dani stammered unable to fully express herself.

“Brew-tea-ful?” Jamie supplemented with a lopsided grin. She was hopeful Dani would appreciate her play on words she spent way too much time coming up with in order to casually drop into one of their conversations.

Dani’s smile widened, a rosy tinge gracing her cheeks. “Yes, it really is.” The huskiness of her tone coupled with the small bit her bottom lip left Jamie weak in the knees. She swallowed a dry lump in the back of her throat, tearing her gaze from Dani’s lips.

“Think you’re up for cultivating your own flower?” Jamie asked, dangling the pitcher of frothed milk. Dani shot up like an excited child. She snatched the pitcher, grinning from ear to ear and nodding up and down with enthusiasm. Jamie poured out another shot of espresso into a tall mug and slide the brew across the counter in front of Dani.

Dani poked her tongue out in concentration as she assumed her ready position. Her body frozen with the steel container hovering over the fresh coffee. After a few seconds of stillness, Jamie felt like something was off.

“Is everything all right?” Jamie asked, concern creeping into her voice.

Dani sheepishly replied, “I-I don’t know how to start. Could you show me again?” Dani pivoted her torso, offering the milk vessel to Jamie

Jamie smiled. “We learn best by doing not watching. I’ll guide you as a compromise.” Dani nodded in agreement resuming her position of hovering the milk above the mug. Jamie moved to stand behind Dani. She placed her right hand over Dani’s hand steadying the steel pitcher with the other, she grabbed the mug.

“Is this ok?” Jamie asked hesitantly.

“Yes.” Dani said breathlessly.

“Ok, now place your free hand on top of mine.” Her smooth skin brushing across Jamie’s fingers sending a pleasant shiver along her spine before finally settling her hand on top of Jamie’s, clasping the mug. Jamie released a shaky breath inadvertently tickling the nape of Dani’s neck causing her beautiful blue eyes to flutter. As if on instinct, Dani settled back slightly into Jamie’s body. The pleasant scent of lavender invading her nostrils from the close proximity.

“Ok,” Jamie managed through controlled breathes, “Focus on feeling the motions.” She proceeded to recreate the foam flower. Moving the pitcher up and down as she poured the stream into the mug, while twisting the mug from side to side. Dani moved in tandem, her arms hovering and hips swaying as they nurtured the tulip to life. Once it was finished, Jamie placed both containers on the counter. She relinquished her hold on Dani’s hands and took a full step back. The distance allowed the fogginess in her mind to clear and the thrumming in her chest to quiet.

Dani picked up the mug examining their creation. Her fingers tapped nervously along the ceramic. She turned to Jamie, her face flush. “Well I certainly felt that.”

There was something about they way she said it that made Jamie’s heart swell with confirmation that this attraction wasn’t one sided. Jamie mustered her courage. “Dani…”

As soon as she said something, the doorbell rung indicating the arrival of a new customer. Dani jumped at the sound, walking swiftly to the register to greet the young couple that arrived. Jamie excused herself shutting herself inside the single stall bathroom for a much-needed moment of peace. She ran cold water over her face to calm down.

They didn’t revisit this conversation. Instead they fell back into their in tandem working routine. Dani took advantage of lulls to perfect her coffee art. This continued for the rest of the week. Everything was nice and boring just as Jamie had always liked, just as she had always preferred. That is, until Dani Clayton waltzed into her life filling her days with happiness and excitement.

Over the weekend, Dani was all Jamie could think about. She was so desperate to unburden the weight of her feelings, she rung Owen to talk it all over. He confessed he sensed this was what was going on all along, having known her for years. He had never seen her look this happy around another person and encouraged her to go with her heart on this one.

On Monday, Jamie arrived at the shop a full hour before they were scheduled to open. As business manager, she was responsible for receiving early shipments which typically arrived first thing Monday morning. She walked through the door into the dimly lit café, the blinds still drawn. She was confounded to find a light was left on in the shop and even more perplexed to find an apron clad beauty behind the counter.

“You know your shift doesn’t start for another hour, right?” Jamie asked walking towards the counter.

Dani ran a hand through her hair, “I-I know that. I also knew that you would be here at this time.”

“Oh.” Jamie said stopping dead in her tracks.

“Yeah,” Dani proceeded, waving Jamie behind the counter, “I don’t like how we left things the other day and so I feltlike I had to do something about that.”

Jamie approached Dani. “And what exactly is it you had to do?”

Dani smiled, “Be brave, for once.” She side stepped a few paces revealing several coffee mugs lined single file up along the counter. Jamie approached the mugs and saw, a question spelt out in frothed milk “K-I-S-S-?”

Jamie felt a gleeful smile spreading across her face. She must have looked like a smitten teenager which is precisely how she felt. “Who knew you were such a flirt?”

Dani quirked her eyebrow in amusement. “Is that a yes.”

Jamie stepped into Dani’s space leaning in, ghosting her lips, “Yes.”

Dani closed the distance between them capturing Jamie’s lips. It was brief like both women were testing the waters, getting to know each other. It was electrifying.

They broke apart, resting their foreheads together. Jamie snaked her arms securely around Dani’s waste pulling her in closer. As if on instinct, Dani wrapped her arms around Jamie’s neck holding her steady in place.

“And here I was working up the nerve to ask you out to dinner.” Jamie whispered.

They shared a laugh swaying in the café at Jamie’s admission.

“We should do that too.” Dani hummed. “After all, Owen owes me 10 pounds. We could put it towards out first date.”

Jamie felt butterflies in her stomach at Dani’s casual use of the word date which was replaced by confusion as to Owen’s role in all of this.

“Why does Owen owe you money?” Jamie asked out of curiosity.

Dani pulled back smiling in triumph. “He lost a bet with me. I have proof that you do secretly enjoy dishing out café puns.”

“I really don’t.” She admitted craning her neck closer to Dani, “I only made an exception for you.”

Dani whispered, “I hope I was worth the effort.”

“You most certainly are.” Jamie said closing the distance between them initiating their second, and much longer kiss.

[topherfoxtrot]

Resilience

Here's the third part of my thunderbolts au. Emil Blonsky scaped his long imprisonment but he didn't went after the Hulk. Where did he go? The answer is bellow the cut. There's an original character here too. I'm not kin of OCs but I didn't find any character who would fit the role I wanted. Said oc will only be a part of this episode so consider it a special guest appearance. I've realized I've been writing more and more with each installment. Sorry about that, I'm getting more comfortable with the whole precess and I like to challenge myself. Continuing the trend, this chapter has a widely different vibe from the previous ones. As usual if you enjoyed please like, share or comment something.

Episode one

Episode two

Emil woke up from a nightmare. It was a fight. From as long as he could remember all Emil did was fight. Now even when he's not awake he's still fighting. He sat on the bed breathing heavily. Wait, where am I? He thought.

"You must be confused." A female voice was heard nearby.

Emil looked around looking for it. The cabin was small. The bedroom, the living room and the kitchen were all occupying the same space. There were two doors, one of them was probably for the bathroom. The woman was sitting at the kitchen table. She dressed a knitted sweater and rabbit slippers.

"My name is Charlie Reznik." She pointed at the soup, "Are you hungry?"

"Where am I?"

"Alaska. Three hours driving from Barrow."

Emil sat on the bed. He was naked. He covered himself with the blankets not for modesty but because they were warm.

"You weren't using any clothes when I found you and you don't seem like the kind of person who would wear my clothes. I hope the blankets kept you warm."

"Found me?"

"Yeah. You were screaming a lot. And throwing trees around." Charlie chuckled, "Eventually you got tired and just fell asleep right where you were. I was thinking about calling the police or something but when you started to shrink I decided to bring you here."

Suddenly Emil looked at himself realizing he did indeed shrink. He didn't look like that anymore. Still, the bones in his hands and abdomen were more prominent than they should be. He took his hands to his back to feel his spine was also prominent. That made him think of the super soldier serum, of the Hulk and of the prison he just scaped.

"I need to contact someone." Emil got up only to fall on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Charlie approached him with caution.

"I think I'll have the soap first actually." Emil muttered realizing how weak his body was.

***

The soup made with vegetables reminded Emil of his childhood in Russia. He had almost no recollection of those few years before he moved to England. He mostly remembered the cold and his mother's soap.

"I need to ask you but.. it's gonna sound weird." Emil was at the table tangled with the blankets, "What year is this?"

Charlie looked him in the eyes to decide if he was being serious or not. Emil didn't flinch so nor did Charlie, "It's 2023."

Emil pressed his lips and started to breath heavily. He was sleeping this whole time. They kept him asleep without ever giving him a chance to explain himself. No consent and no agency.

"No one has heard anything about you since 2008 Mr Blonsky and now you show up in the middle of the forest not knowing the year?" Charlie seemed genuinely curious.

"You know me?"

"I didn't recognize you at first. There isn't much footage from big you. But the sketch from witnesses matched pretty well. They call you the Abomination."

"Abomination?" Emil suddenly smashed the wooden table with enough strength to crack it. Charlie quickly moved her left hard to somewhere under the table. They locked eyes. For the first time Charlie didn't seem warm and inviting but rather fierce and absolutely ready to react. Emil closed his eyes a bit before recomposing himself.

"I'm sorry."

"I also think the name is impolite." Charlie brought her hand back, "But no one knew anything about you except you were military assigned to find Bruce Banner. I had to make some phone calls and turns out my guess was right! You are indeed in the accords database. Quite high level threat.

"What accords?"

"Alright." Charlie put her hair behind her ears, "I need you to be honest with me Mr Blonsky. What's the last thing you remember?"

So he said. He fought the hulk on Harlem, fell unconscious and woke up in Alaska. Charlie brought a computer from a big bag under the bed and put it on the table in a way that both of them could see it.

"The world changed a lot since 2008 Mr Blonsky. Put on your seatbelts."

Charlie then gave him a contemporary history class the best way she could while showing videos and pictures whenever she felt necessary. She talked about the avengers assembling in 2012 to stop an alien invasion caused by a norse god. She talked about the genocidal robot destroying a whole country in 2015. She talked about Wanda Maximoff killing those people back in 2016. She talked about the Sokovia accords and how that made the avengers disassemble. She talked about Wakanda opening up to the rest of the world. She talked about the avengers coming together again to fight yet another alien invasion. She talked about the snap and the chaotic years that followed. She talked about the blip and the even more chaotic year that followed it. Emil listened to everything in silence. It was a lot but he was smart.

"They put me to sleep for fifteen years." He whispered.

"I'm so sorry about that. It's unfair."

Emil had finished his soup but he stayed exactly where he was. Thinking about everything.

"I became strong. I became as strong as I could and still... they defeated me with bed time."

"You're being unfair."

"How come?"

"I don't think strength is really what you think it is."

"How would you know?"

Emil looked at Charlie's small stature with unconscious disdain. She picked on that and wore her fierce eyes again.

"With all due the respect Mr Blonsky..." It was possibly to hear the rage under her words, "You have no idea how strong I am. Thanos snapped my whole family! I wasn't even at home when it happened. Do you have any idea how much strength I needed to gather to simply get up every morning? I may not have big muscles like you -in fact no one does Mr Blonsky - but guess what? You could not have went through what I did. I'm sure of it!"

Emil got up aggressively and so did Charlie.

"You're really pulling the trauma card?"

"Wanna compete?"

"I think I do." He showed his teeth.

Charlie walked across the cabin stepping heavely. She sat on the bed. "Enlighten me."

The challenge got Emil off guard. He hesitated.

"I don't need to tell you anything."

"Of course you don't. If you tell me how traumatized you are, I'll tell you how traumatized I am. Then you will have to admit that none of it gives you permission to do the shitty things you did!"

The cabin merged in silence. Outside there was nothing but the cold wind running through the trees.

"I know your type." Charlie continued, a little calmer now, "Though childhood huh? No perspective of a future so you joined the military. Felt good to explode some heads didn't it? It felt powerful."

Emil remained in silence. He still looked mad, but remained in silence. Charlie went to the kitchen and grabbed a photograph from one of the drawers. She gave it to Emil.

"You're military." Emil studied the photo of Charlie and other soldiers smiling inside a tent.

"Used to be. Came back in 2019. The welcoming party wasn't exactly a party as you can imagine. My house was empty. As I said both my parents and my little brother got snapped. That's when I found this cabin."

"It's not yours?"

"Nah. I don't know who it belongs to actually. It was a cold night and I was just driving aimless. I don't know why exactly. Everything just seemed so meaningless back then. I felt weak."

Emil put the photograph on the table and they both locked eyes again. Not with anger this time though.

"It's cold but it's isolated enough. I could cry and scream as much as I wanted without anyone knowing. And did I need to scream! Scream at Thanos, scream at my parents, scream at myself. A part of me wish it could've been me, y'know? Trust me I would give my life for theirs in the blink of an eye! Yet, here I was."

Charlie sat at the table again. The temperature of the cabin went from 20°C to 40°C and then to 20°C again. Emil felt sorry about the table but most importantly he felt sorry for making Charlie mad.

"There's no much to say." He started, "Though childhood. No perspective. Joined the military. After everything I've seen, being strong is honestly the only option. It's survival."

"I get it. I really do. But strength is not on your muscles."

"Don't come with this heartfelt bullshit."

"It's not." Charlie chuckled, "Trust me I won't fall for that bullshit either. It's something else."

She got up and grabbed an old book from the shelf near the bed.

"All those things were already here when I got here for the first time. There was water, gas, energy, the bed, the blankets. It's like whoever lived here had just left. I've known this place for couple more than three years now. No one is ever here except me, yet the feeling never goes away."

The old book was covered with leather.

"Self help book?" Emil asked.

"In a way." Charlie tilted her head, "This book is about the universe. But not like a scientific encyclopedia. This book is about the whole universe, about the energy that comes from different parts of the multiverse and how to harvest and manipulate them. Essencially, magic!"

"Alright it's a self help book. Magic is not real."

"I was honestly hoping you would say that." Charlie smiled, "Check this out!"

Charlie put her hands in front of her and took a deep breath in order to focus. She moved her hands vertically and a orange string appeared from thin air. Charlie's hands drew a circle in the air and the string curved itself in a circumference. Charlie closed her hands as if grabbing something and with another gesture polygonal forms started to draw themselves in the magic circle. Charlie snapped her fingers with both hands and the whole thing started to spin like a magical ferris wheel.

"You discovered magic!" Emil whispered.

"Of course I didn't! People have been studying that for a long time. I just happened to find a weird book." The magical strings disappeared as Charlie stopped focusing so much on them, "You know when you are depressed so you set a simple goal just to give yourself a little achievement?"

"No, actually. But that's seems like solid advice."

"It is!" Charlie chuckled, "Anyways I read this whole book in like two days and I didn't understand shit. But I was super interested and started to dig the internet and beyond for anything related to all the weird concepts I found. I read the book more two of three times after that. Each time I learned something different and gained a new perspective over myself and the universe around me."

"So it is a self help book!" Emil laughed.

"As I said, it is but in a weird way. I mean look around. There's aliens and gods and the multiverse. When you think of all of it don't your problems seem way smaller?"

"I'm not sure."

"Here's how it's gonna be. I go to Barrow buy you some clothes and you think about everything I just said." She grabbed a jacket and wore boots, "But you have to pay me back alright? Otherwise I'm gonna hunt you and I'll find you. Remember: I know magic!"

"Okay, that's fair!"

Charlie grabbed a ring with slot for two fingers in a kitchen drawer. "That was one of the things I found here. Magic becomes weirdly intuitive once you learn some basics."

She made that focused face again and started to draw circles in the air with her right hand. The air in the middle of the cabin heated up and started to sparkle. An orange circle (much like the one she conjured with the hand gestures) appeared but in the middle of it was possible to see an alley.

"What is this?" Emil was shocked.

"Fast travel!" Charlie winked before passing through. The portal was gone as soon as she was gone and Emil found himself alone in the cabin.

***

There was a small mirror in the bathroom. Alone, he could check his own body for the first time. His face looked pretty much the same, he hadn't aged one day in the past fifteen years. Besides his hands and shoulders and spine, his elbows were also abnormally prominent. Was he the Abomination after all?

The power felt good, he remembered. Felt god-like. But the cost was too high. Emil became too dangerous and lost control over his own life for more than a decade. He wanted to blame Ross and Banner but would it be even fair? Emil was the one who accepted to take the serum in the first place. He actually pointed a gun at that scientist. He begged to become as strong as the Hulk is.

Emil left the house still covered in blankets. The cold snow made his feet burn but no enough to bother him. He was strong after all. Or maybe he enjoyed the pain in a sick way of reinforcing his own superiority belief. An orange portal opened nearby after a while.

"Aren't you feeling cold?" Charlie asked coming with a bag of clothes.

"A little."

"Come. See if any of those fit you. They're from the local thrift shop by the way."

"I've wore worse."

Charlie bought a simple jeans, two shirts, a flannel and boots. Really simple stuff just to protect Emil from the cold. It fit well.

"Thank you." He said.

"You're in debt, Mr Blonsky. Don't you forget that."

"You know magic." He chuckled, "I can't allow myself to have you as an enemy Ms Reznik."

They both laughed. Charlie sat at the table and started to type something on the computer.

"The feds are all over town." Charlie commented, "They're looking for you."

"Listen," he said, "I need to ask you a favor but first can I go for a walk?

***

Emil took a deep breath before jumping as high as he could. He could not see above the tall trees so he jumped again but grabbed one of the trees this time. Even with his bare hards, the wood bowed to his will. He kept climbing until he got to the highest part of the tree. From up there he could see the whole forest, including the trees he threw around the day before.

He jumped to the ground again. The snow splattered around him. His hands and knees started to bleed but he didn't care because he would break soon enough. He felt powerful and smiled without realizing it. Not a happy smile, bur rather a challenging one. Hey jumped a little before running in the direction of the destruction he caused. He started slow (more like jogging actually) but quickly escalated to marathon running and super human running. The cold wind cut his face like knifes but he didn't care. He just kept going faster.

When he finally reached the glade he jumped again. Even higher this time. When he landed his feet felt bigger. Breathing heavily he looked at his own hands and realized they were indeed getting bigger and muscled. Without wasting any breath he took off all his clothes and started running again. The cold started to bother him less and less as his body grew in size.

He started to scream so he could liberate his anger. He jumped high and landed with his fists causing the ground to crack bellow him. Emil grabbed a fallen tree and threw it to the air. He picked big boulders and threw them around at will. In the middle of the chaos he also started laughing. He was strong. He could destroy anything he wanted. He was as strong as he could be.

When Emil finally felt satisfied with his own display of power, he grabbed the trees and rearranged them back into the ground as best as he could. He picked the boulders and put them back where they were. So when the glade resembled the glade it once was, Emil sat on the ground next to his new clothes.

He started to think about everything Charlie said. Yes, he was big and could destroy everything is his way. But there were gods and aliens and robots and uncontable planets and entities across the universe. He was big and strong but he was also small and weak.

His strength though wasn't on his muscles but on his ability to survive. He survived his childhood, he survived the military and he survived the Hulk. Just like Charlie survived the snap and the aftermath. Like Charlie found new meaning in magic so could Emil find new paths to follow.

"I'm big and I'm small. I'm strong and I'm weak. I'm still here." Emil whispered to himself.

His body started to shrink calmly. Once he achieved regular size he wore his clothes and walked towards the cabin. Charlie smiled when he entered.

"Had fun?" She heard the screams obviously.

"Yeah actually. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Remember, you're still in debt! So what favor do you need?"

"I need a portal but I also need an address. I believe you can find the person I'm looking for in the Sokovia accords database."

"Hm alright. What's the name?"

"Ava Starr."

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2394

Part 10===Part 11===Part 12

“Alright Tae Bae, let’s see what’s going on with your system.”

In the time it had taken us to clean up after dinner, Taehyung had already set up everything he needed in order to communicate through remote video feed with his mentor.

I’d decided to join Taehyung and Jeanette in the security area of our basement living room, sliding in beside Jeanette on the overly large sofa and snuggling up beneath her blanket with a smile sent her way before focusing in on the conversation unfolding before us.

Tae was posted up on the floor, feet crossed in his lap and a large keyboard situated on top of his knees as his eyes roamed the information displayed on the massive tv hung on the wall. The screen itself flashed a myriad of information, lines of code and text along with a small set of squares at the bottom left corner that gave us a live view of the surrounding grounds and security checkpoints.

In the top left was a video feed of Black Rose, a sweet looking woman roughly my age whose smile lit up her whole face every time her eyes glanced back to what I assumed was Taehyung’s face displayed on her own screen. I couldn’t help but feel there was something more than the connection of mentor and apprentice between the two.

“I managed to trace the outside signal as far as the local area before I got cut off from it. Whatever it was that let them in was enough for them to feed my cameras a signal to loop come a certain time of day. That’s when the attack happened.” Taehyung frowned, glancing at the video image of the ashen haired woman and blushing brightly as he averted his gaze elsewhere.

“Sounds to me like they’ve been in your system before. Or are at least familiar with the type of code you were writing for it…”

I couldn’t help but glance over at Jeanette who seemed just as bewildered as I felt with all the technical jargon being thrown back and forth between them.

“Any idea what they’re saying?” I asked in an overly dramatic stage whisper.

Jeanette shook her head, blowing a bit of curly hair out of her eyes with a huff. “None in the slightest honestly. I’ve heard Jangmi talk like this before but it always goes way over my head.”

Tae snorted, his eyes darting to the two of us for a moment before focusing back in on his job. “Since I’ve got you here, could you run a backdoor screen for me? At least then I’ll know what I’m missing before we go whole hog on the fuckers.”

Black Rose shook her head, sighing lazily before typing quickly on her end. The sound of high speed clicking filled the speakers along with the sound of Taehyung’s own. The screen glowed a dark green color as line after line of letters and numbers and symbols flashed across it. Everything moved so fast that for a moment I grew dizzy just trying to keep up with it all.

Jungkook at that point wandered into the room, coming around the sofa to sit on its arm beside me and throw an extra long arm around my shoulders.

“Anything?” He asked, knowing that his words would interrupt Taehyung’s focus, he’d spoken in a low whisper just as Jeanette and I had.

“No clue to be honest, but damn if I wouldn’t be able to tell you anyway.” I glanced up at Kookie, blushing as he threw me a charming smile that, no matter how many times I’d seen it, still managed to make my insides flutter.

“Well let me see…” He looked over to the tv, eyes darting back and forth as he watched the words fly by.

“Every computer system, no matter how complicated, has a back door. They’re usually protected by something called a firewall, basically a shield the system has in place so your information can’t get stolen or your software can’t get hacked.” Jungkook’s fingers trailed along my shoulder, leaving trails of heat in their wake as he continued to watch the two computer geniuses work.

“What’s basically happening is Jangmi is attacking Tae’s firewall, trying to find any weaknesses in it to see how exactly the hackers got into our system.”

“HA!” A triumphant shout echoed through the speakers, jolting Taehyung out of his hyper focused stupor and causing him to stare at the screen in shock.

“Are you serious? That one line of god damn…”

“And here I thought I taught you well, little grasshopper. Such a shame that a tiny bit of code like that could cause such a massive amount of damage…” Black Rose hummed.

I couldn’t help but to watch in fascination as Taehyung basically melted down in front of us, rolling on the floor after discarding his keyboard and gripping his hair. He wailed like a little child, cursing and fussing and drawing full on belly laughs out of each of us as we watched him go on.

“One!! One goddamn misplaced comma...are you kidding me?” He groaned, reluctantly righting himself and pulling the keyboard into his lap once more.

“Well, fix it ya soggy noodle.” The woman paused, pulling a large cup into view and sipping from it before groaning in pleasure at the flavor of whatever her drink of choice was.

“I see you’re taking full advantage of the macchiato machine I got you.” Tae grunted, though his fierce typing belied the brief moment of a glance he’d made at her screen.

“Ya damn right I am.” Contrary to the accent she’d been speaking with, these words took on a distinctly New Yorker accent, one I’d only heard in movies and on youtube, but the change was so incredibly adorable I couldn’t help but giggle at her.

“I don’t uh...I don’t wanna interrupt but.” I glanced over to Tae who’s full attention was now on me.

“What is it Boss Lady?”

“Well, I’ve heard of like espresso machines but...a macchiato machine?”

Taehyung and Black Rose chuckled together, grinning a secret grin between the two of them.

“It’s not really like an espresso machine. Think of it like one of those industrial mixers you see in gas stations and stuff.” Tae typed into his keyboard, pulling up an image of the machine he mentioned. “It’s like a frozen yogurt machine but for macchiato mix.”

“It’s rather ingenious actually. All I had to do was get the right kind of mix and I’ve got all of my caffeine needs right here at my desk.”

“I prefer mine through a direct iv line.” A muttered voice spoke from behind the couch, drawing our attention to Yoongi who’d apparently been listening in on what we’d been talking over this whole time.

“Ah! A man after my own heart!” Black Rose grinned, giving Yoongi a thumbs up which he returned with a small smile in kind.

“Boss, we got an issue with Seokjin upstairs.” Yoongi frowned at Jungkook, though the look seemed to be more one of frustration than actual danger.

“What happened?” Jungkook stood, giving me a kiss to my forehead before heading back upstairs with Yoongi.

“Apparently his ‘second’ and I quote, ‘Is a no talent hack who couldn’t strip the paint off the broad side of a barn.”

“Overwatch?”

Yoongi sighed, “No, campaign mode on Halo…”

Taehyung snorted, returning his attention to the tv screen. “Alright. Let’s get that firewall fixed up and reverse track the signal.”

***

“Rose and Tae make a pretty incredible team huh?” Jeanette smiled softly as we watched the two work. We’d decided that speaking quieter gave us less of a chance of interrupting their focus as they worked.

“Yeah, But I kind of get the feeling there’s something between them. Don’t you?”

“Hmm…” 

I’d known Tae for only a short time, he’d come to us only a few years ago. And even though it’d been going on nearly 4 years I still couldn’t help but notice that the young man hardly ever really smiled unless Jimin was around.

Of course it could have been because they were so close in age, but it seemed like he preferred to stay by himself. With his line of expertise and the type of work he did I ended up, well not really avoiding him so much as just giving him space. But he seemed to really appreciate it. We became close in our distance. And that was okay.

“Are you seriously eating gummy bears while you’re at your computer?” Tae snorted, shaking his head as he watched his partner sheepishly grin.

“Hey, the last time we worked together like this you fussed at me because I was eating seaweed snacks over my keyboard. I’ll have no more of you fussing at me you hear!”

The two laughed, seeming to enjoy egging each other on as they worked. It felt comfortable, and was definitely a side of Taehyung I’d never seen before.

“Any luck?” Jeanette asked. She cuddled further into the blanket, seeming on edge as she watched the interaction happen.

“Does East Side ring a bell?” Black Rose’s eyes wandered her screen, eyebrows furrowed and a small frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah...actually it does.” I grunted, pushing further  back into the comfort of the sofa.

“We were joined with them. A smaller branch of our main group that was in charge of keeping the East side of the city safe.Tension’s been high with them, even before all this mess came along.”

“I see. Well it seems like it was more than just tension.” Rose leaned back in her chair, iced coffee in hand as she pulled up an aerial view of the city for us all to see.

“This is satellite feed from a remote military camera that was monitoring the area a day ago. From the looks of things and going solely on the data I traced from Tae’s security hack, seems like these bastards have been plotting something for a while now.”

We watched intently as the feed zoomed in on the warehouse Kook, Yoongi, and I had run a rescue mission on not too long ago.

A group of people approached the front side of the building, busying themselves with something we couldn’t see while keeping a lookout for chatterers that happened to come their way. Rose accelerated the footage and we watched as, after moments more of fussing with whatever they were up to they retreated from the door.

“What the actual hell?” Tae whispered before yelping as a bright orange ball of what we could only assume was flames erupted at the door.

“So that’s how those things got in…” My body had tensed up at this point, anger pouring from me in waves as I leaned forward to glare at the tiny bodies pouring into the warehouse.

Rose cut the footage, a frown creeping onto her face as she glossed over what we now couldn’t see. “Looks like they made off with a bunch of stuff, some boxes and shit but dipped out before they could get overwhelmed. There’s no way anybody in there survived the wave of creepos that poured into the building after the fire settled.”

“Two of them survived...but not for very long.” I spat the words out bitterly, rising from the sofa and letting the blanket fall from my form as I began pacing behind the sofa.

Namjoon walked in, eyes following my every move as he walked around the sofa to sit in my place beside Jeanette, though he sat back at a respectable distance.

“I take it there’s bad news?”

Jungkook’s second in command was nothing if not astute and true to form; he'd gauged the atmosphere with no trouble.

“No oppa...shit news actually.”

I glanced over at him, eyes burning a hole into the back of his head despite the blush of red creeping up the back of his neck at the term of endearment.

“Well?” He turned to Tae, an eyebrow raised in question. But before the younger man could speak the sound of an explosion roared through the speakers, one so loud I could have sworn the ceiling above us rumbled along with the noise.

“What in the actual fuck?” I bolted over to the sofa, eyes wide as I scanned Rose’s video feed.

It seemed she’d been knocked out of view of the camera, which itself had been thrown from whatever stand she had set it up on and now lay on the ground. The only thing we could see was the trembling of the floor and a pale set of feet.

“Rose??? Rose can you hear me?” Jeanette had jumped from her seat, rushing over to the tv monitor and hastily scanning the live feed in the hopes of seeing her friend move.

“Shit...I’m okay...fuck...fucking god damn it what the hell?” A continued string of curses poured from the speakers as the feet finally began to move before disappearing from view.

Rose’s face finally came into focus as the camera lifted from the ground to focus on her dazed expression.”I don’t know what the hell that was but holy shit that fucking sucked donkey dick hole.”

“Bruh, the mouth on this woman I swear…” Namjoon shook his head, though the look of concern on his face never wavered.

“You good kid?” I asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Yeah, though, the building I’m in probably isn’t.”

“Talk to me Jangmi, what happened?” Tae sat on his knees, seeming as if every inch of him was screaming to come to her defense.

“Well. From what my screens are telling me. Looks like those East Side assholes found me and are on their way up to my room.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook had come down, surely drawn in by the commotion coming from the speakers that’d probably been heard all through the house. The others followed closely behind him, each wearing matching faces of either murder death stare or concern.

“I’m at the Daegu Grand Hotel. Have been for a while now. And like I said, from the looks of things the very people trying to get all of ya’lls shit are on their way up to greet me with a very impolite Korean gangster hello.”