#THEY HAULED HIM OFF AND PUT A CONTENT MILL IN HIS PLACE

[risingsunresistance]

i do really wish i could still watch harvey but the simple act of moving to twitch means i never catch when he's active, i never know who he's streaming with or what events or meetups he's in, and i think he also went from twitter to bluesky so i see him even less often now

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[jamespotterthefirst]

Cariño (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 3 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2K Premise: After their confessing their feelings to one another, everyone can see something has changed. Set in book3, Chapter 11.

Author’s Note: More outsider POVs. This girl loved them and will probably never stop writing them. 

* “cariño” just means “dear” or “love” in Spanish

Grace

The placid, teal waters of the lagoon glimmer like a cluster of diamonds, blending into a breath-taking gradient with the pink swirls of sunrise. Grace attempts to take a picture, but a measly phone camera will never be enough to capture the splendor.

Instead, she takes in a deep breath, convinced such a view is worth getting up early for after a late night of drinking and dancing.

“Nothing… is… worth this, Ethan,” a breathless voice says from nearby, interrupting the silence on the otherwise deserted beach.

“Doctor Allende, I am shocked at you,” a male voice responds. “You know the benefits of regular exercise as well as any other physician.”

It's a young and rather attractive couple jogging down the shore. At least, the taller of the two figures seems to be jogging. The shorter, curvier one is slouching over, dragging their feet against the sand.

“Try to keep up, Lilac.”

As they approach, Grace immediately recognizes them from the previous night at Ines and Angie's reception. Their attractive features would have been enough to make them memorable, but what Grace remembers the most is the long, lingering looks they would cast one another from across the venue.

Now, they move side by side, the tall, handsome man clad in only swimming trunks, his broad shoulders and toned muscles glistening in the first glimmers of sunlight. The pretty brunette at his side wears a bright one-piece that has no right looking so flattering, her dark hair swaying in a high ponytail.

“Jogging isn't exercise. It's a form of medieval torture,” the young woman returns, panting after every other word.

“And you say I'm the dramatic one,” he returns with a chuckle.

Lilac, not listening, slows her steps until she stops entirely, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Ethan rolls his eyes but laughs nonetheless, retracting his steps to return to her side.

“Fine,” he concedes. “You win. No more jogging for today.”

At the words, the brunette recovers miraculously, straightening and shooting him a flirtatious smile. Her companion watches her, as though her unbridled delight is the most precious rarity in the world. When he seems unable to fight the urge any longer, he pulls her to him with a roguish half smile that has even Grace's knees trembling.

Without much preamble or regard for who might be watching, he kisses her, his hands moving to cradle her face.

Grace tries to glance away, giving them as much privacy as possible, but the stark difference from last night captures her attention entirely. At the wedding, there was something quiet and restrained about the way they longed for each other. Today, there is freedom and unabashed happiness in every movement, in every smile, in every small gesture of affection.

“Now will you take pictures?” Lilac asks him, adding a flutter of her lashes to plead her case.

“Was that your only motive for accepting my invitation to exercise? Pictagram worthy shots?”

“You're a Pictagram worthy shot,” she returns without missing a beat, pulling their bodies close again and sealing the coy statement with a kiss.

Ethan does not need much more persuading after that. Despite the groan he lets out, he agrees far too quickly for a man who spends the following two minutes criticizing social media.

At last, he willingly becomes the subject of many of his girlfriend's photographs, even following her directions of different poses. He visibly enjoys the role of photographer when it's finally his turn to take pictures of her. Grace doesn't blame him in the least since Lilac works that camera with captivating poses.

“Now us together,” Lilac says after a while. The words are rushed, as though knowing what the answer will be.

“Absolutely not. No more selfies.”

He takes many selfies with her.

“Excuse me,” Grace says after watching her struggle to capture the beautiful lagoon behind them. “Sorry to interrupt but would you like me to take your picture?”

Lilac appears delighted by the offer, accepting and smiling at Grace so brightly that she too would agree to arduous photoshoots if she asked.

“Alright, say 'cheese.'” Grace lifts the phone Lilac gives her, careful to include the beautiful scenery in the shot.

Ethan looks as though he'd rather be dragged off by a shark than to say the word.

A millisecond before Grace takes the picture, however, Lilac cranes her neck to kiss his cheek, murmuring something in his ear. Whatever it is makes Ethan's smile rival the rising sun on the horizon.

Tobias

Ethan peers down at the coral drink in his companion’s hand, his brow furrowed as though the mere existence of so much color in an alcoholic drink offends him. Tobias watches from the end of the poolside bar with interest, keeping his urge to laugh at bay. Such a visceral reaction to a fun drink is so characteristic of his ex friend that Tobias can hardly help his amusement.

“What the hell is that?” Ethan is asking her.

Lilac Allende is not as successful in biting back her own amusement. She laughs at once, as though she expected such a reaction from him.

“Sex on the beach,” she answers, her voice a husky little pronouncement that is meant to weaken the will of even the strongest of beings. Paired with a lazy, deliberate nail up his arm and the world renowned Ethan Ramsey doesn't stand a chance.

Tobias, still unnoticed by the couple, gives an impressed nod, respecting her game.

“I—” Ethan stammers.

He puts on a brave attempt at impassiveness after this but even Tobias can see the doctor’s ears brighten with color.

“You want to—” His voice drops an octave. “Again?”

“It's the name of the drink, Ramsey,” she informs him in a would-be innocent voice. It's promptly spoiled by her laughter at Ethan's utterly stunned expression.

“You're an unabashed tease, Allende.”

“Yeah, but you love me for it.”

Tobias pauses at the word, uttered so confidently. He almost expects a grimace from his old friend, maybe a hasty change in the conversation. But Ethan surprises him thoroughly by smirking down at the brunette, an expression of pure adoration on his face.

“You're right,” Ethan whispers close to her ear. His voice drops so low that Tobias doesn't catch what he tells her next.

Much to Tobias's continued surprise, the usually confident and vivacious young doctor blushes.

The couple spends the following moments murmuring words that are too low for anyone nearby to hear. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the content of their quiet conversation ranges from nauseatingly romantic to explicit.

They are interrupted by the arrival of one of Dr. Allende's friends, a short and exuberant resident whose name Tobias hadn't learned yet. After Ethan's reassurances that he will catch up in a few, they depart toward the beach where a group of grinning young doctors awaits.

“Never thought I'd see the serious and private Ethan Ramsey engage in PDA.”

If Ethan is surprised to see Tobias occupying a seat nearby, he does a masterful job at masking it. Unfazed, he simply stares at Tobias, willing him to get to the point.

“I knew you two were together thanks to the rumor mill, but I didn't realize it was this serious.”

Ethan narrows his eyes, the only hint of a reaction from him. For all of Tobias's suave swagger, the mistrust he sees in the other doctor's expression stings more than he'd ever admit out loud. He shouldn't have expected any less after all the years laden with dishonesty between both men.

Still, Tobias raises his hands in defeat, letting out a laugh that is not entirely genuine.

“Just trying to make some friendly conversation,” he tells him.

Ethan turns away to face the glass of scotch before him, as though it serves as a more superior conversation partner than Tobias. Knowing when to throw in the towel, Tobias takes his drink and prepares to move away.

“Things are… different,” Ethan finally says before Tobias can move.

It's not much but for Ethan Ramsey, that is as good an olive branch as he'll ever get.

“Lilac is…”

“Different?” Tobias finishes for him.

Even as friends, they were never poetic or sentimental. But Tobias understands the depth behind the single word without further explanation.

“I can see that,” Tobias continues with a small chuckle. “It's obvious to anyone that knows you that she's special.”

Ethan looks at him then, a flicker of surprise on his otherwise impenetrable expression.

“It's nice to see you happy.”

The words leave Tobias before he has any consciousness of forming them. He is shocked—far more than Ethan in that moment—to find he means them.

Naveen

The spell cast by a vacation in a beautiful, faraway place comes to a close as their departure time trickles near. Lamenting this fact, Naveen rounds the corner of the unfamiliar hotel hallway.

He knows better than anyone of the challenges that lay ahead for them as they return to Bloom Edenbrook. He also knows that most of those challenges will be endured by his protégé. What worries him the most is how Ethan will face the strife that is still to come.

Naveen’s steps soon come to a halt a few rooms down when the door to Ethan's room opens.

“...that we got everything, babe.”

Lilac Allende emerges, unaware of Naveen and speaking over her shoulder as she hauls her luggage into the hall. She pauses in the hallway, rummaging through her purse.

“So you decided on 'babe' then?” Ethan asks dryly, appearing at her side with his own suitcase in tow.

“You decided,” Lilac returns cheerfully turning to face him.

“How do you figure I did that exactly?”

“Last night, before we fell asleep. I informed you we had a very important decision to make,” Lilac recounts quite seriously. “I asked you what you wanted me to call you.”

Ethan nods, playfully feigning interest as though they're discussing the specifics of a particularly difficult case.

“I laid out all the possible pet names and you chose 'babe'.”

“I have no recollection of doing that.”

“I told you it was down to 'bear', 'lamb chop', or 'babe'.”

Much to Naveen's amusement, Ethan grimaces at the list of pet names, his expression growing more horrified with each one.

“Just call me your usual ones in Spanish.”

“Oh, I will, cariño. I have a whole list of those ready. Lucky for you, I’m bilingual so you’re getting both. Babe was the one that got the quietest grunt from you, so I assumed that's the one you decided on. But if you'd rather I call you 'bear', then I have no—”

Ethan, who had been watching her with such a lovestruck expression since the word “cariño”,  calls her bluff in the form of a kiss. All pretense vanishes as Lilac melts into the kiss, smiling blissfully against his lips.

“We should leave now if we want to make our flight,” Ethan says, breaking apart with a sigh. “Here. I'll take these.”

He grips the handle of her suitcase, ready to pull it along with his own.

“Thanks, babe,” she says with a wink, emphasizing the last word.

Ethan rolls his eyes but smiles—a rare, genuine smile Naveen only sees when he's around Lilac.

“It's growing on you, isn't it?”

“Perhaps,” Ethan concedes. “Or maybe I'd let you call me whatever you want.”

Lilac laughs, delighted.

“I'd be careful in awarding Dr. Allende that much power,” Naveen says to make his presence known.

The couple turns to look at him, Lilac with an amicable smile and Ethan with a resigned sigh.

“Too late for that,” Lilac responds brightly.

At that, Naveen laughs in agreement much to Ethan's chagrin.

“Is there something you needed or were you just prying?” Ethan asks though not unkindly.

It is a rare sight, though a pleasant one, to see them simply be with one another, all guards down. By Naveen's observations, they are always the picture of professionalism at Edenbrook—at least to the public eye. But now, as they stand side by side, fearless and unapologetic in their affection, Naveen realizes his concern for Ethan was in vain.

“The reason for my visit seems pointless now,” he admits with a small chuckle.

Ethan raises his brows, unconvinced.

“Forgive the interruption,” Naveen goes on. Before he turns to leave, he offers them a barely restrained grin. “And for the record, Ethan, I would have chosen 'lamb chop.'”

Author’s Note: I finally wrote in my hc that MC calls Ethan babe ironically (and to annoy him) at first but they end up liking it as time goes on lol. 

Thank you so much for reading this! 

Thank you @aestheticartsx​​ for pre-reading!

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 6

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Word Count: 5.8K 

Warnings: none? (let me know if I missed something pls) 

November had seamlessly slipped into December, your small town was now decorated with wreathes of evergreen boughs instead of dried corn husks. A large Christmas tree had been set up in the small park off of main street, a crowd of enthusiastic citizens milling about to decorate the large evergreen. You turned your attention back to the hardware store where your older brother was purchasing a roll of wrapping paper and an armful of Christmas lights. Erwin thanked the cashier and pushed out of the store with his arms full of paper bags. You wordlessly relieved him of two of the bags, a smile on your face.

You had to admit, the town was doused in an ethereal winter glow, it was a Saturday afternoon and main street was bustling. The small coffee shop was decked out in Christmas decorations and people were flocking to get a cup of their holiday specials. The small boutiques were advertising the latest fashions, the hardware store was busier than usual, and the small breakfast joint was packed with families enjoying a quiet breakfast. The sidewalks were damp with melted snow, chunks of sidewalk salt crunching underfoot as you made your way to Erwin's minivan that was parked down the street.

"So movie night tonight..." Erwin cleared his throat and glanced down at you.

"Yeah, nothing too special just the usual crew." you shrugged indifferently.

"I figured as much." the blonde sighed as he fumbled for his keys in his pocket.

"Is there a problem?" you asked, a bit nervous that Erwin would change his mind and tell you that you couldn't host the movie night that you had planned.

"No, no of course not, I was just wondering if you were planning on seeing Levi off with Mom and I tomorrow morning." he hummed thoughtfully as you loaded the bags into the trunk of the van.

"I'll be there." you grunted as you settled into the front seat. Erwin nodded, pleased with your response and started the car.

-

When you arrived at your house you were surprised to see that Levi and Hange were both present. A glance at your brother told you that he also was not expecting them to be there either. You both made quick work of bringing in the groceries, you smiled softly at the sight of your mother and Hange fussing over some garland that you draped over the kitchen cabinets as decoration. Levi was hunched over the sink with his sleeves of his chunky knit sweater rolled up as he scrubbed relentlessly at a pan. Erwin bushed past you and into the living room to light the fireplace, you bit your lip to conceal a giggle as Hange got tangled in the itchy garland. Your mom immediately set to work on untangling her and you turned to put away the goods that you and Erwin had acquired.

Erwin waltzed back into the kitchen and set to work on drying the dishes that Levi had already washed, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm. You took the dried dishes and began to put them away, reveling in the domestic environment. You knew that this wouldn't last much longer, they were going to school, starting their lives. Instead of dwelling on the thought you decided to just enjoy the little time that you had left with them.

"Aw that looks amazing! Good work Hange!" your mom praised the brunette as she finished tacking up the garland over the cabinets.

"Thanks Angie!" Hange beamed, your mom chuckled and took the hammer and remaining nails from her to return to their rightful places. Hange turned to see the three of you finishing up the last of the dishes.

"Look at you guys getting along." she cooed, clutching her hands over the sleek black turtleneck that she wore tucked into her bright yellow checkered pants.

"Shut up and go grab me a fresh rag." Levi grunted as he shoved the dirty rag into Hange's hands. She turned and obediently made her way down the hall to the laundry room to fetch a fresh rag for Levi to wipe down the counters.

"What's Kenny planning on doing this year without you home?" Erwin prodded, as he watched Levi scrape a skeptical finger over the countertop.

"Gamble, drink himself to death, hell if I know." Levi scoffed as he wiped his hand off on a hand towel and stooped down to pull out the all purpose cleaner from under the sink.

"Is that what he usually does?" you asked carefully, Levi paused a thoughtful look passing over his usually stoic mien.

"I guess." Levi shrugged, his face falling back into one of indifference. You hummed thoughtfully, nobody deserved to spend Christmas alone, not even Levi's bum of an uncle. Hange jogged back into the kitchen sliding on the clean floors due to her thick cabin socks. She held the clean rag out proudly for Levi who then doused it with cleaner and began scrubbing the counters. Your mom returned from the garage, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

"Levi sweetie what have I told you about cleaning? You really don't have to do that." she scolded, Levi frowned but continued to wipe down the counters while Erwin busied himself with inspecting the new LED lights that he had purchased. Your mother reached up and ruffled Erwins hair affectionately as she passed and made her way towards the stairs. Hange chuckled and settled into one of the stools at the island.

"When will your buddies be arriving?" she hummed, a smirk curling onto her lips as she perched her chin on her intertwined fingers. You pursed your lips and glanced at the clock over the stove, it was only three o'clock, they shouldn't arrive until six.

"Sometime around six." you reported, pulling a holiday magazine out of the stack in the middle of the island. You idly flipped through the pages, ignoring the way Hange's glasses glinted in the light as she studied you thoughtfully. She inhaled, as if she were about to speak, but you quickly shut the tabloid and threw it back onto the pile and stood.

"Welp better go set things up." you stretched dramatically and before Hange or anyone else could get in another word you fled down stairs. Thankfully you had taken the time the night prior to clean out the basement and pull out decorations. You stacked piles of seasonal quilts and other knit blankets about on the couch and some on the floor as well. You lit some seasonal candles in the basement restroom and one on the T.V stand.

You had already set up a tangle of white LED lights at the base of the TV and some other small snowmen figurines as well as a small Christmas tree in the back corner for the group to decorate and place white elephant gifts beneath. The tree was already bundled up with rainbow lights and strands of shimmery tinsel. You deemed the basement as satisfactory and turned to begin preparing snacks and other treats.

You weren't surprised to find Hange and Levi at each others throats, Hange had a fistful of Levi's sweater, and he had her by the ponytail. Erwin was still engrossed by the lights as he attempted to untangle them, seemingly unbothered by his friends. You carefully stepped over the mess of lights and began by preheating the oven, you planned on making frozen pizzas and some of those cheap Pillsbury dough boy sugar cookies that you bought during the holidays.

"Admit it!" Hange snarled as she jostled Levi.

"You're being overdramatic four eyes." Levi hissed as she shook him relentlessly.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

You rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore them. Their relationship never ceased to confuse you, the pair seemed to constantly be in a state of turmoil. One day they were perfectly content with each other, but the next they would be at each others throats as they were now. It gave you whiplash, especially on days when they flipped between these two states every few minutes. Realistically you knew that it was Hange who added the turmoil to their relationship, she was very chaotic by nature. You originally figured that Levi tolerated Hange's presence because Erwin and her were dating, but now that you had gotten to see the two of them interact you knew better. Somewhere deep down you knew Levi cared about the manic young scientist, and Hange openly voiced her affections for Levi.

You smiled at the sound of the two of them tussling, their staggering steps receding into the living room where they would have more room to rough one another up. You heard a body slam to the ground, which is when you turned to see Levi glaring down at Hange who was now sprawled out on the hardwood floor. Erwin frowned at his friends disapproval evident on his features. When he had first introduced the pair all they ever did was fight, but that was when they were younger, now he expected better from them. Also he was surprised that Hange still even attempted to best Levi in a fight, the raven haired male was surprisingly strong and had experience under his belt.

Hange hauled herself onto her feet as Levi stalked back towards the kitchen, his sweater now stretched out around the neck where Hange had tugged on the material. Just as he was about the sit down, Hange snagged him around the neck and locked him into a choke hold, a victorious bout of laughter leaving her lips as she dragged him back into the living room. Levi's socked feet attempted in vain to slow down the persistent brunette as she drug him backwards. You slid the pizza in the oven and turned to pull out the popcorn so that it would be ready for when the others arrived. Erwin scoffed and gathered the lights, which were now free of tangles and hauled them outside into the waning light.

You frowned after him, hoping that he didn't plan to put them up in the dark. Turning your attention back to the brawl in the living room you were impressed to see that Hange still had the upper hand. Levi had a hand placed on her jaw as he tried to push her face away from his, the two of them were on the ground, Hange underneath Levi who was trapped in a choke hold with Hange's legs wrapped around his waist. Levi snarled as he thrashed in Hange's hold, his sweater riding up as he struggled. Hange was laughing her head off, finally releasing Levi in favor of clutching her stomach as her laughter grew more intense. Levi seethed as he took a few healthy steps away from Hange and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. Hange stood up and wiped a tear from her eye before turning to face Levi.

"But seriously, you should do it." Hange's tone turned serious as she addressed Levi. He scoffed and curled his lip in disgust.

"Probably more trouble than it's worth." he retorted.

"Just give it a shot." Hange begged, her hands clasped together over her chest.

"I'll think about it." Levi snorted, he stalked out of the living room and back into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping over the room, clearly searching for Erwin.

"Outside." you jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door, he said nothing as he trudged past. You knew better than to ask what they had been arguing about, they always just brushed you off. So instead you returned your focus on preparing for your movie marathon. You could already see a bruise forming on Hange's jaw from here Levi's fingers hand attempted to pry her off of him. You flinched, recalling his iron grip, you knew how it felt to be manhandled by him.

"So...what are you guys doing tonight?"  you questioned casually as you pulled the cookies from the oven. Your voice derailed Hange's train of thought, she whipper her head around and pursed her lips as she considered your question.

"Hm, I guess whatever Levi wants since it is his last night in the states for a whole month." she mused, rubbing her hand along her tender jaw. You nodded, this probably meant nothing, Levi wasn't much of an extrovert so it made sense that he wouldn't want many people present except for those he considered dearest to him to see him off.

"Well if you guys want you could join us, they won't be staying late." you were quick to tack on the last part, knowing that Levi probably wasn't ecstatic to spend his last night with underclassmen.

"I'll see what I can do." Hange winked before retreating towards the stairs and jogging up them, presumably to change into comfier clothes. You leaned against the counter and sighed heavily, things were changing and you hated it. You knew that at sooner or later your brother would go off and begin his life, but you did not expect it to come so quickly. You also didn't expect to grow so fond of his friends. Before you could totally bum yourself out your phone vibrated, startling you.

"Hello?" you asked, not bothering to check the caller id.

"(Y/n)?" Connie's familiar upbeat voice brought you back to earth.

"Yeah what's up?" you chuckled as you wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder to slide the pizza into the oven.

"I just wanted to let ya know that Sasha and I are on our way and we are bringing some snacks just like you asked!" he boasted, you could practically see the swell of his chest and the smug smirk on his lips as he spoke.

"Great! How far away are you?" you asked as you shut the oven.

"About five minutes." he affirmed.

"I'll see you soon." you hummed as you set the timer on the oven.

"Yep!" he beamed, after a moment you heard the familiar beep signaling that the call had been ended. You dropped your phone back onto the counter and glanced out the window behind the sink. The sun had began to sink below the trees, and still Erwin and Levi were outside, you hoped that they were not trying to tack up the lights. With a heavy sigh you trudged through the front of the house and slipped on a pair of Erwin's moccasins and pushed through the front door. You wrapped your arms around your chest and frowned when you didn't see the pair anywhere on the front yard. You cupped your hands over your mouth and inhaled sharply.

"Erwin!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the barren trees and the serene snowy scene. No response. Just as you were about to call again, a huge glob of snow fell off the roof right on to your head. You shrieked and turned to see Levi standing on the roof, the toes of his boot sticking over the newly uncovered patch of your roof. You glared up at him as you brushed the snow off of your shirt and shivered.

"Quit shouting." was all he said before turning and stalking back out of your line of sight.

"Are you guys almost finished? It's getting dark and I don't want to spend the night in the hospital." you whined as you took a few steps back to get a better view of the roof. You heard the distant sound of a hammer, but no response to your question. You rolled your eyes and took yet another step back. This time you could see Erwin hunched over the edge of the roof, Levi had returned to his side to hold him by his belt as he stood on the slippery surface. Not the smartest or safest way to hang up lights but hey if it works it works. After a few more swings Erwin leaned back on his haunches to admire his work, with a satisfied nod the two grabbed the remaining nails and began their descent.

"Hold that ladder for us would ya (Y/n)?" Erwin hollered down and pointed a finger to the old metal ladder that was perched against the side of the house. You nodded and waded through the snow to stabilize the ladder for the two of them to climb down. You only relaxed when both of them were safely on the ground, the three of you quickly gathered all of the tools that they used and folded the ladder back up before trudging through the snow to the side door that led into the garage. You stored all of the items and filed into the door that led into the kitchen, only to find Sasha and Connie milling about with Hange and your mother.

The kitchen was warm due to the heat of the oven and all of the people in the room. You tugged at the neck of your crewneck sweat shirt, your eyes drifted to where Connie was struggling to open a candy cane. Sasha was ripping open a bag of popcorn to place int the microwave. A short knock on the door alerted you that someone else had arrived, just as you rounded the corner to let in your guests, the door opened and Jean poked his head in.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he pushed the rest of the way in, a paper bag cradled in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey, come on in!" you waved him in, a smile gracing your lips at the sight of Marco close behind him, a stack of old CDs in his grasp.

"Marco! I'm so glad you could make it." you gushed as you went to relieve Jean of the bag in his arms. Marco smiled a bit bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah me too." he blushed, the red tint obscuring his freckled cheeks.

"Well you can go ahead and take those to the basement, Jean can you show him?" you asked as the three of you entered the chaotic kitchen. Jean nodded and grabbed Marco's bicep to steer him towards the basement, before you knew it the pair had disappeared down the stairs.

Your mom had given Connie a hand and opened his candy for him, and now he was sucking on the peppermint candy, the end of it gradually forming a point. Sasha was listening to Hange as she gestured wildly, something about the amount of chemicals and various pesticides used to grow corn. Levi was surprisingly still in the crowded kitchen, although it seemed he was purely there to supervise, Erwin was inspecting Hange and your mother's handy-work with the garland. Just as you managed to wedge yourself between Hange and Sasha to reach the oven, the sound of the doorbell made Sasha jump and push you back.

"I'll get it!" she cried out before making a break for the foyer and escaping Hange's rant. You rolled your eyes and pulled the pizza out of the oven. Hange bounced around the kitchen, stopping in front of Erwin, he pulled her into his embrace by her hips, Levi rolled his eyes before stalking away from the pair. He padded through the kitchen and into the living room where he dropped onto the sofa. You pursed your lips, the thought of joining him crossed your mind but before you could act on it Jean had you by your shoulders and was steering you towards the basement to follow the crowd downstairs.

You allowed him to guide you downstairs along with the others, Connie and Sasha were already in the basement, running circles around the couch chasing one another. Connie had Sasha on the run, periodically jabbing his sharpened candy cane at her whenever he got close enough. You cracked a smile at the pair as the others moved to sit on the couch, you took a moment to appreciate Mikasa's outfit, she had favored a festive red sweater that had a raindeer sewn onto the front instead of her usual goth get up. Eren had also worn a forrest green sweater with a Christmas tree, Armin wore a sky blue sweater with a cheeky snowman on the front. You beamed at their choices, all of them very fitting, Jean and Marco wore a matching set with two elves on the front of their green sweaters. Connie and Sasha also wore sweaters, Connie's had Rudolf with a nose that actually lit up while Sasha wore a white sweater with a turkey on the front.

Connie finally managed to catch Sasha, holding her in a chokehold and dragging her over to the sofa. Marco dropped down next to Armin and the two began to sift through the options, Mikasa watched the two converse while keeping an eye on Eren who was poking fun at Jean's sweater. You decided to let the pair work it out on their own for once and dropped down next to Mikasa. Marco had managed to bring quite the variety of movies, he had classics like Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, A Christmas Story, Santa Clause, Home Alone, and more. You unanimously decided that A Christmas Story would be the perfect start, so you popped the disk in and all settled into your seats. Sasha and Connie had to sit on the ground, you had learned the hard way that they were messy eaters and it was much easier to clean the floor than the crevices in the couch. The movies went by quickly, and before long it was already 12 am, you finished the last few minutes before everyone began to fold blankets and pick up the dishes that they had used. You all climbed the stairs and dropped the dishes in the sink and the trash in the bin, you thanked them for coming and wished them safe travels as they all filed out the door. Jean lingered for a moment, a hand on your hip as the two of you stood on the threshold. The others had long since climbed into their cars, it was only Marco who was waiting for Jean.

"Thanks again for hosting tonight." Jean smirked as he pulled you flush against his chest, the scratchy sweater tickled your nose as you rested your head against him.

"It's really not that big of a deal, I like having all you guys over." you whispered against his chest as he rubbed a hand up and down the curve of your back. You were surprised when a flurry of butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his ministrations. His hand slid up your back and came to rest splayed between your shoulder blades for a moment before continuing to slide up and into your hair. Your heart pounded in your ears as he kept his steady gaze on your face, with a gentle tug he pulled your head back to look up at him. You blinked rapidly, as he slowly leaned in until his breath fanned across your lips.

"May I kiss you?" he murmured, his tongue flicking our over his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

"Y-You may." you stuttered, that was all he needed. He closed the small gap and pressed his lips against your own, taking your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking. You kissed him back timidly, not quite sure how you felt about this interaction. It seemed as if the kiss lasted for hours, when in reality it was probably only about two minutes. Marco laid on the horn of Jean's car, startling the two of you. Jean smiled sheepishly at you before turning and jogging down the steps and over to his car. He turned and waved at you, even going as far as winking before climbing into his car and starting the engine. You couldn't stop your wandering fingers from tracing your wet lower lip as he drove off, he wasn't a half bad kisser. You stepped back into the foyer and closed the door and locked up. The house was quite, but you could hear Hange laughing upstairs, and your mom's TV in her room playing Grey's Anatomy. Since the others had been kind enough to aid you in cleaning up most of the mess, you decided to go get changed into pajamas. You tiptoed up the stairs and past Erwin's room, you could hear Hange, Levi, and Erwin behind the door, they seemed to be bickering as per usual.

You quickly threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts before wandering back to Erwin's door and rapping on the wood with the back of your knuckles. The voices fell quiet before Erwin pulled the door open just enough to peek through the crack, you frowned at him skeptically. He relaxed when he realized that it was only you and pulled the door open to allow you inside. Erwin's room was like most athletic teen males, messy. His desk was cluttered with papers and pens and the odd textbook. His bed was messed up, Hange was splayed across the comforter watching Levi scroll through his phone. The LED lights in Erwin's room were rotating through multiple colors, the floor was surprisingly clean, probably because Levi was in the room. Your eyes fell on his large beanbag that rested in its usual corner and you moved to fall onto the familiar seat but before you could collapse Hange called out to you.

"(Y/n)! come lay with me." she yawned as she beckoned you over. You sighed but decided to indulge her, you frowned at the small amount of space between her and Levi and opted for the foot of the bed. Erwin dropped down into his desk chair and hunched over his homework, seemingly uninterested in hanging out with you just yet. You sank down onto the foot of Erwin's queen sized bed, Hange frowned and patted the space between her and Levi. You grimaced but still crawled up the bed and pressed your self to Hange to avoid entering Levi's bubble. Hange draped her arm over your waist as you settled your back against her chest.

"Leviiiii let us see" Hange cooed, reaching to pull Levi's elbow so you could see his phone screen. Levi frowned but obliged, angling his wrist so all three of you could see his screen. He was on tiktok, watching a deep cleaning video. His for you page followed the trend of the first video, reviews on cleaning products, amazon reviews and unboxings, some aesthetic videos, mostly boring things. Before you knew it Hange's head slumped down onto your shoulder and you felt her steady breath on your skin, her arm that had been holding you in her iron grip had also gone slack. Levi glanced at the two of you and tried to engrave the image in his mind, the crushing reality of leaving his friends was beginning to sink in. Anyone else would think that he would be happy to leave this bumpkin town for Paris, but they would be wrong. His phone buzzed in his hand, forcing him to tear his gaze off of the two of you. He blinked at the banner that had appeared at the top of his screen, an unknown number.

"Have a safe trip tomorrow big bro! ❤️(red heart emoji)" Levi allowed the corner of his mouth to curl upwards as he read the message. However it was short lived when he realized that it was around 7am in Paris, what on earth was she doing up? He rolled his eyes and opened the message to shoot her a reply:

"Go back to sleep brat it's a Saturday."  he shut his phone off as soon as the message went through, feeling a bit better about his impending departure knowing that his sister was waiting for him. He hadn't seen them in almost 7 years now, he had left France with his uncle when he was only 11 years old when his uncle had gotten a new job. He was only able to return now because he had spent the last three years working odd jobs to save up enough cash to purchase a round trip to France for the holidays.

"Penny for your thoughts?" your muffled voice brought Levi back to the present. He scoffed, glancing down he noted that your eyes were closed and your face pressed into the pillows. He spared another glance to your brother who was now typing furiously on his laptop with a pair of cheap headphones pushed deep into his ears.

"Well?" you pressed, cracking an eye open to gauge his reaction.

"There's nothing to share." he huffed, sinking deeper into Erwin's bed dejectedly.

"So you admit that your head is filled with nothing but elevator music?" you jabbed, a sleepy smirk on your lips. Levi's nose scrunched at the comment, he rolled over onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he glared daggers down at you.

"At least tell me what song is playing in there." you giggled, reaching a hand up to tap you index finger on his temple. He blinked slowly as he allowed you to tease him, knowing that this would be the last time you would get the chance for a whole month. You frowned when he said nothing still and sighed heavily.

"You really won't tell me?" you pursed your lips when Levi's lip twitched, threatening to curl upwards. So that's how it's going to be.

"I was thinking about you." Levi professed, his tone surprisingly tender. Your eyes widened, now you were awake, you felt hot embarrassment rush up your neck and cover your cheeks.

"W-What?" you stammered, the confidence that had flowed so freely through your actions earlier long forgotten.

"You heard me."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Eh" Levi shrugged and rolled over so his back was to you. Astonished, you sat frozen still being crushed under a sleeping Hange. You sat up as much as you could to peek at Erwin, yup he was still grinding on that Economy project. Carefully you shrugged Hange's arm off of your waist and rolled out from under her head. She only snorted and rolled so her back was to you. You sat up fully and grabbed Levi's upper arm to shake him, after a few seconds of jostling, he rolled over and opened his mouth to hand you a snarky comment. His eyes widened slightly to see your finger pressed firmly against your lips. You jerked your head towards the door before you threw your legs over Levi's and slid off the bed and quietly let yourself out of the room. Levi frowned as he watched you leave, a bit confused on what was about to happen. Did you want him to fuck you? Maybe, most likely not but a guy can dream.

He frowned at Erwin who was totally engrossed in his work, even mumbling incoherently to himself as he typed. Perfect timing, he padded quietly across the room and slid out into the dark hallway, a purple glow illuminating the hall as he opened the door. You turned and gave Levi a small smile, but just as he was about to demand why you had summoned him you turned and slunk down the stairs. Now he was officially stumped, still he followed you down into the empty kitchen, you didn't stop there though, you continued down the stairs.Casting a brief glance over your shoulder to make sure that he was following you. Once you had reached the basement you dropped dramatically onto the couch and leaned back into the cushions.

"So are you excited to leave tomorrow?" you asked, turning your sleepy gaze to him as he settled down onto the cushions next to you.

"You could say that." he shrugged as he threw an arm over the back of the couch and tilted his head to gauge your reaction.

"I would be too, I mean those French girls must be smoking hot." you chuckled as you rolled to your side to face him, a wry smile on your lips. Levi scoffed and averted his gaze, once you had stopped giggling you sighed contently.

"It's getting late." you groaned as you glanced at your phone. Levi hummed in agreement as he watched you avoid his gaze.

"Why did you drag me down here?" Levi asked outright, you licked your lips as you attempted to put your feelings into words. But how could you do that when you didn't even know how to feel.

"I guess I just wanted to, I don't know have a moment with you before you leave." you muttered your eyes trained on your hands as you toyed with a ring on your finger. Levi said nothing as he watched you fidget.

"Well here we are." his cold eyes were locked on you as you turned to shoot him a glare.

"I know." you replied meekly, desperately wanting him to ease the awkward atmosphere, but you knew Levi and he wasn't very good at breaking the ice. So the two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.

"Even though you're a massive dick, I'm going to miss you." you broke the thick silence.

"Quit being so dramatic, I'll be gone for a month not a year." Levi rolled his eyes and let his arm fall from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders. You winced, surprised by his sudden action. He tightened  his grip and pulled you into his side, his face still void of emotion.

"It's not like that, I'll just miss you cleaning my house for me. Now I'm going to have to pick up the slack." you joked, a playful smile spreading across your face, but the happiness didn't quite seem to reach your eyes. This didn't escape Levi's watchful gaze, instead of commenting on your obvious uncertainty Levi only pulled you closer to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll just be cleaning up after Isabel and Farlan." he spoke softly, his face still void of any expression in particular. You pursed your lips and nodded thoughtfully, you wondered if one day you would get the pleasure of meeting the pair. When you said nothing Levi tapped his finger against your bicep and inhaled sharply.

"Are you jealous?"

"Ha as if." you scoffed, throwing him a playful glance as you elbowed him sharply in his ribs. His lip quirked upwards, if you hadn't been paying attention you would have missed his small smile.Your chest swelled with pride, it was rare for someone to say something worthy of Levi smiling about, it was only recently that you had noticed that you had been able to coax a few brief smiles onto his face.

You wondered if you would be able to still make him smile when he comes back.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

can I request some naga with a spetznaz reader? she is highly skilled and has been with the spetznaz for atleast a decade. and maybe her squad had to team up with naga to take down some dangerous drug lord or something and they start to fall in love. note she always wears her balaclava when she's around other people she only tekens it off when she is alone with her men or just by herself. she also has a few scars

sorry if it's too specific!

Don't Go | Naga x Fem!Reader

Oooooo sheeeeeet 👀👀👀 I'm so here for Naga x badass lady content lmao. Also, not to worry!! I love yous guy's OCs, and if this is one such instance, I'm more then happy to write some content for them. In fact, I'd be quite honored :)

Anyway, sorry for the wait but this turned into a whole ass little fic, so here we go!!

The blistering Laotian sun beams overhead. Naga is taking shelter in the branches of a tall tree, sharpening a blade and surveying the land below.

His men and yours mill around, preparing for the fight coming up.

In return for his work for Perseus, Kapano has called in a favor... One of Perseus' operators and a small squad to help him and his men take down a rival who's been getting far too close for comfort to his territory. And well... He didn't get to be in this position by playing nice.

The two of you have been tracking his whereabouts for weeks now and, at long last, the time has come. Tonight's the night, and afterwards your partnership will be through.

One last shick of the blade and then... Silence.

He looks down into the clearing and picks you out from the crowd. An easy task, considering you're wearing one of the same few balaclavas you always wear.

And he does mean, always.

He's never seen your face, despite the few times he's given you the privilege of seeing his. Somehow, he's always thought that maybe, if he removes his mask or bandana, it'll encourage you to do the same, but... To no such avail.

It's strange, you know... He hasn't a clue what you look like, and yet he can't seem to get you out of his mind. He's wondered often, but all he knows for sure is that you have the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen...

The thought of parting ways with you after tonight upsets him, even though he knows it shouldn't. This is a business arrangement only. Nothing more.

And yet... He's never met a woman quite like you before.

He could get any woman he wants in all of Laos into his bed should he please, and yet the one who actually intrigues him, he has no chance with. And that's just the thing, isn't it? He doesn't want a woman in his bed, he wants one in his life damn it!

His lonely, stressful, life...

Prostitutes and dancers are plentiful and cheap to a man like him, but company such as that does nothing to interest him. He needs... A partner.

Someone who will stay through the tough and the crazy and the fighting and the schemes. Someone to be there through the hurt and the loss and the anger and the loneliness. Someone...

Like you.

During the day, he has visions of expanding his underground empire and sharing the wealth together. At night, he dreams of a quiet life with a woman who calls his name sweetly and kisses him softly. Yes, even a feral, conniving, wild man such as he dares to dream of a domestic life after this one to grow old and fat in, from time to time.

Kapano lays his head back and sighs deeply. Surely not. You are a tigress among women, certainly not the type to dote and be doted on by a small man with a big lifestyle and personality like him.

Do you ever think of such things? He wonders.

He watches you spar hand to hand with one of your men. You're giving every bit as good as you get, and in a few moves more he's confident you'll gain the upper hand.

A thud and a cheer finds him from down below. He cracks open his eyes to see, to no one's surprise, that you have won. With a small smile and an even tinnier sigh, he claps his hands politely and slowly fades into one of his day dreams.

Just according to plan, the raid goes off without a hitch. The rival has been sufficiently delt with, and Naga has found himself considerably richer in the process. You spend most of the night laughing and celebrating as the two of you, along with your crews, haul back the loot you've captured.

The two of you take rest amongst the sea of pillows and cushions that make up his living room furniture. For the third time since you've been here face to face with him, you wince and try to play it off.

"Is something wrong?", he asks at last.

"Tsk, it's nothing. Just a cut I think", you touch your covered cheek and sigh. The woolen fabric is irritating the injury you received from the fight. Just another scar for the count, you suppose...

"Sorry, I really must be going. I should clean this up...", You move to stand, only to fall back into the pile of cushions with a hiss. It would seem that knee on knee strike you received earlier as well is catching up with you.

Naga puts his hands out to steady you, "No no! It's alright... I um...", He spares a cautious glance to the hem of your balaclava. Should he... "Would you like me to clean it for you?"

You give him an appraising look. There's no one you trust in this world with your face, aside from a select few of your men. But... You must admit.

You've developed... Feelings, for the oh so vicious little warlord. Hm, vicious only on the outside, you muse. He has a tender heart underneath it all, and you consider yourself lucky to have been able to bear witness to it, just as you are now.

"...Fine"

Slowly, carefully, you remove the mask. It's stuck to the dried blood from your wound but, with a bit of help, it's off soon enough.

You hold a hand to your injured cheek, hoping to stop up some of the fresh blood after the old stuff has been ripped away. Naga holds your mask, and he... Feels...

In awe.

You have all the beauty of a goddess, and he feels truly privileged to behold the sight of you.

"Something wrong?", You cock an eyebrow, suddenly second guessing your decision to reveal yourself.

"No, I just...", Gently, he reaches out a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "You're more beautiful then I ever could've imagined..."

His voice is quiet and distant, as though he's in a dream. As the moonlight dances through the room, he gazes at you in a state of absolute wonder until it almost makes you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Suddenly, he shakes himself, snapping out of it. He shrinks away and breaks his eyes from looking at yours, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that", he's quiet for a moment. You both are, as you reel from the sudden change. "I'll go get th-"

"Wait", your hand reaches out and tugs him back down. He stumbles a little and finds himself landing closer to you then he's ever been before.

The cool breath of your lips tickles the skin of his broad little nose, even as your breath seems to hitch in your throat. His deep, almond eyes lock onto your bright, shining irises, the only feature he's known you for, for all this time, before daring a glance at your parted lips.

The slightest of movements brings you closer to him, but he's been waiting for this moment far too long for gentleness.

He supports your head and shoulders before crashing his lips into yours. His lips are thick and soft, far more so then you would've expected of gang boss like himself. He suspends himself over top of you, his body only inches away as you fall back completely against the plush pillows.

You run a hand along his side as he works over your slips, rough, but slow. His body is lean and hard, but softer and pleasingly warm in certain places. He moans happily, like a dog receiving a particularly enjoyable scratching, as you gently caress his side and kiss him back.

When you're both ready, he gently breaks the kiss, only to plant one more to your forehead. He lingers there a moment, his voice the barest of whispers, "Please don't go tomorrow..." He sniffs, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was about to cry.

He pulls back a little and shakes his head, "Or ever. I-I want you to stay...", He caresses your healthy cheek, and shyly makes eye contact with you before pressing a long, tender kiss to your lips. "I think... I think I love you"

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, a wave of surprise over taking you. You had no idea he felt this way... Maybe you're not as crazy as you thought for all those times you've thought about him...

Honestly, you don't know if you're ready for something like this, but...

Is anyone?

You swallow your nerves, and find that a small smile breaks free as you let your anxieties go. "I think...", You cup his cheek and give a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose, "maybe I love you too"

[plaidconvers]

Saturday Plums- B.Barnes

-Bucky Barnes x gender neutral!reader

Summary: Bucky loves the farmers' market for the plums, but that's not the only reason he goes once a week.

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None just fluff :)

A/N: this is my first fic and any type of feedback is more than welcomed! All mistakes are my own :) I hope you enjoy

Bucky loved the farmer’s market. He may not have been a fan of the crowds of people milling about, but that didn’t seem to matter when he reached a certain someone’s produce cart. He had been eyeing the vendor for weeks now at the new fruit stand but wasn’t confident enough to act on anything. 

“The usual?” The person behind the stand asked as they started to get a produce bag to fill with bucky’s weekly fruit haul. 

“Extra plums please,” Bucky responded. Today was particularly hot and Bucky’s shirt was already clinging to his back. He squinted up at the sun in thought before the voice of the fruit vendor cut him out of them. 

“Alright, your total today is $20 even,” The vendor said with a smile. Bucky handed them a $20 and grabbed his bag. 

“Have a great day! Thank you!” The vendor handed him his receipt and went off to help another customer. Bucky went to go put the receipt in his pocket but noticed a familiar scribble on the bottom of the paper. 

“You should call sometime :)” read the short note below their number. Bucky’s heart screamed in his chest. This was the opening he was looking for. Bucky finished his rounds at the market and made his way home. 

“Hey” backspace. “Hi, it’s bucky” backspace. “Hello :)” backspace. To say he was struggling was an understatement. He wanted so badly to text them but every fiber in his body screamed to not message them. Bucky typed out one last attempt at a message, went to delete it, but he ended up hitting send instead. 

“It’s bucky from the market :)” read his accidentally sent message. Bucky kicked himself for the way the text sounded. Did he text them too early? Did the text sound friendly? Or was it creepy? Bucky’s racing mind pulled itself out of its spiral at the chime of his phone. 

“Hi!! It’s Y/N from the stand :)” they replied in the same mannerism as Bucky’s previous text. His heart was racing a million miles a minute. His phone chimed again with another message. 

“How do you like this week’s surprise fruit?” they messaged. Every week Y/N would throw in one piece of fruit for free for Bucky to try. If he liked it enough he’d add it to his weekly list of fruit to buy. 

“Haven’t tried it yet, but looks...odd” Bucky gazed over to the table where the fruit bowl sat. On top of the gently stacked fruits was a brown and fuzzy ball that he supposed had to qualify for a fruit. If he had it his way he’d buy nothing but plums and peaches and call it a day. Y/N insisted Bucky needed to try more fruits and thus a friendship was kindled. 

Y/N smiled at their phone. Bucky was a gentle person despite what he had convinced himself of otherwise. They never talked more than 5 minutes when Bucky came to the market on Saturdays. In those weekly 5 minutes, Y/N had learned a bit about Bucky and vise versa. Y/N would be lying if they said they didn’t have a thing Bucky. He always was making jokes and would compliment them under his breath when he thought they weren’t paying attention. 

“Well when you get around to it, slice it open and eat it with a spoon, like an avocado” Y/N explained to Bucky. He would eventually go google a list of fruit names and text each one to Y/N until he got the name of the one he was eating. 

They continued to talk the rest of the week and eventually, it was Saturday again. Bucky made his way around the vendor booths until he ended up at Y/N’s. He gave them a sweet smile that made Y/N’s stomach flutter and heart beat faster in their chest. 

“Usual?” Y/N said with a smile gracing their lips while they grabbed the produce bag from Bucky’s hands. Bucky faltered for a second before nodding his head. Had he always been this breathless around them? Bucky was shaken from his thoughts when Y/N asked him a question. 

“What?” Bucky asked, not catching their question. 

“Any plans for the weekend?” they repeated. Bucky took a second to gather the courage to say his response, “now or never” he thought to himself. 

“If you’d be up for it, I’d actually like to take you out to dinner some time.” Bucky held his breath as the words danced out his mouth ungracefully. His mind swirled with what-ifs and he could feel himself going red in embarrassment. Bucky barely missed Y/N’s soft smile as they replied. 

“I thought you would never ask” All the air trapped inside Buckys lungs left in one graceful breath. 

“When are you free doll?” Bucky was feeling a little more confident in his playboy skills, but he was still rusty as ever. 

“I close the stand around 5, so 7” Y/N replied. Their heart was beating out of their chest in the anticipation of dinner with Bucky. They were already filling their mind with thoughts of that evening when Bucky reeled them back to their fruit stand. 

“So would 8 work for you?” Bucky is practically vibrating in his shoes with anticipation and excitement. Weeks of flirting (okay maybe not flirting but he’s trying) and contemplating had boiled down to this moment. 

“Works for me!” Y/N replied with a smile spreading across her lips. Y/N scribbled their address on his receipt and bid them goodbye as he raced home. 

Contentment. 

That’s what Bucky felt as he waited on his couch watching the clock tick down the time till he could leave to pick up Y/N. Bucky had taken out plenty of people way back when, but things were different now. He was different now. Bucky felt his phone ding with a text. 

“Hey pretty boy, I’m almost done if you wanna head over now?” Bucky blushed at the name Y/n called him. He shot them a quick “on my way” and went to grab his keys and wallet. 

The drive over to Y/N’s apartment was short and before Bucky was done hyping himself up, he was pulling over to park. 

Y/N had been ready since 6:30 and they finally gave into texting Bucky to just come over. They were itching to see him. They just knew he would look stunning. A knock rang through their apartment making them jump up from their spot on the couch. 

Swinging the door open, Y/N was greeted by the dashing image that was Bucky. 

“You ready to go?” Bucky asks them, trying his best to not let his nerves seep into his voice. 

“Ya, I just need to grab my keys and wallet!” Y/N said turning back into their apartment. Bucky peered into their apartment seeing the cozy little place Y/N called home. Books were settled on side tables and on the floor. They liked to read. Bucky noted that for future reference. He was about to make more observations, but Y/Ns voice wafted into his ears, coaxing him back to his spot in from of their door. 

“Just come in I’m gonna be a sec looking for my damn wallet.” They mumbled something after but Bucky didn’t catch it. 

Heart racing, he entered. He closed the door behind him letting out a sigh. His eyes dart around the room taking everything in. Plants were hanging from hooks secured on the ceiling and miscellaneous paintings littered the walls. Y/N’s apartment was a stark contrast to his. A colorful couch was set up against the wall by the front door and an abstract shag carpet was placed under the coffee table. He’d have to furnish his apartment before he ever invited them over if they went past the first date that is. 

“Found it!” Bucky heard Y/N yell happily as they made their back into the living room. Bucky took a second to finally take their appearance in. They looked lovely. Bucky smiled to himself getting lost in the person in front of him. 

“See something you like?” Y/N’s flirty tone danced in Bucky’s head. His ears went red at that comment and his eyes found their way to the floor. Bucky heard them laugh at his embarrassed state. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Y/N said, putting a hand on Bucky’s broad shoulder. Bucky brought his gaze from the floor to their eyes, seeing the kindness that danced behind their pupils. 

“We should head out so we don’t miss dinner.” Bucky took their hand in his and smiled at them. 

“Lead the way.” 

Y/N was on their 3rd glass of wine and very very flirty. 

“I think we should cut you off doll,” Bucky said, laughter bubbling into his words as a frown starts to form on Y/N’s lips. 

“You’re probably right,” Y/N said feeling slightly embarrassed at their current state. They pulled out their phone and noticed it was already 11.

Bucky checked his watch and noticed the time as well. They had been done an hour ago with their meal but they just kept talking and relaxed into each other’s presence.

“I didn’t think it was that late,” Bucky said with a chuckle. He’d been so lost in their conversation and Y/N’s presence that time seemed to freeze. 

“I think we should go, I’ve seen the same busboy eye this table at least 5 times in the past 30 seconds,” They said with a laugh, eyes twinkling in the light, not like Bucky noticed or anything. 

The two gathered up their things and Y/N left a tip while taking Bucky’s arm, the wine sneaking up to them. Bucky let out a soft chuckle and adjusted his arm around their shoulders for more support. 

The drive back to Y/N’s apartment was filled with them making comments to make Bucky blush. 

“Okay okay enough, let me help you out of the car.” Bucky laughed as he got out of the car. Tipsy Y/N was definitely fun but good god did they make Bucky crazy. 

The pair walked up the stairs to Y/N’s floor as they fumbled with their keys. They got the door opened and turned to Bucky. 

“Um, Thanks for tonight Bucky,” Y/N said in a soft voice, their nerves finally settling in. They felt their face get hot under Bucky’s soft gaze and wanted to just squirm away. 

“I should be thanking you, this was probably the best date I’d been on since the ’40s,” He said in a light tone, gaze never leaving the features of Y/N’s face. He wished for nothing more than for them to just kiss him. 

As if reading his mind, Y/N reached to cup his face in their soft, warm hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. 

“Is this okay,” Y/N said barely above a whisper, ask if speaking louder would shatter the soft moment. 

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed out, leaning in to bring Y/N’s lips to his. The kiss was soft and gentle but oh so passionate. Never wanting the kiss to end but needing air, Y/N was the first to pull away. A content sigh left Y/N’s lips as Bucky rested his forehead against theirs.

“I should probably go inside, it’s late,” Y/N said softly. Bucky didn’t want to let them go but he knew he had to. 

“Okay, text you tomorrow?” Bucky said with a slight hint of worry lacing his words.

“Only if you text me you got home safe,” Y/N said in a playful tone. 

Bucky watched as they retreated into their apartment. There was so going to be a second date. 

[babbushka]

Make Good

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

(Young!Flip from the Flip & His Darling Jewish Wife AU)

2k ; Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced abuse, abusive family; emotional hurt/comfort; angst & fluff [sometimes we just need to write what we need] 

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

He’d been having a shitty enough day as it was, before he got your call. Work was tough with the weather shifting to cold and wet, rain coming down in sheets. Wasn’t good to leave wood out in the rain, and he had to oversee too many people trying to move too many logs in the low visibility of the slate grey skies.

So when he came home and two steps in the door his Ma handed him the telephone with worry set deep in her brow, and mouthed your name, he had feared for the worst and his pulse spiked hard in his chest.

Especially when he held the receiver up to his ear and heard the crack in your voice when you hoarsely whispered, “Phil…”

He knew that tone, the one that meant you’d been crying for a while, the hush that scrapes the back of your throat so that no one can hear you when you speak. He knew what put it there too, and he nearly went blind with anger before quickly responding,

“I’m on my way.”

By the time Flip gets to your house, the sun has long set. The rain carries on, steady and heavy as ever, a thick curtain of freezing cold drops that splash and flood the pavement around his tires. He knows he can’t park outside otherwise your parents will know he’s there, and neither of you can have that. You’ll be in even more distress, and that’s the last fucking thing he wants to cause you.

So, bundling up, he leaves his car parked down a block or two at a neighbor’s house who happens to know him and like him, and he tugs his coat on as tight as he can so no water chills him, and he makes a sprint for your window.

The light is off, which makes things a little more difficult than it needs to be – but he knows that you can’t have it on. They’d be mad if they knew you were up this late, even though it wasn’t late at all, not really. The light may be off, but you’re there, standing right against the window. You’ve pulled your curtains back and slid the right side open, waiting for him.

He can’t begin to describe the love that fills his chest when he sees you smile, realizing he’s come. He wants to call to you, but he can’t, not now, not at this hour. So instead he gets his footing together and begins to climb up the side of your house, using the garden trellis to work his way up.

The trellis is slippery though, and he accidentally misses a step and sucks in a deep breath as he tries to catch himself and keep himself from falling.

“Be careful!” You gasp, before clapping a hand over your mouth and shaking your head, knowing that any noise is a danger.

It only takes two more big climbs and then your hands are on him, looping around his arms and helping to pull him in through your window, his soaking wet feet landing on a towel you’ve placed right there on the floor for him.

It takes two seconds after that, for you to cry.

“Hey, c’mere.” Flip automatically pulls you into his arms, tight against his chest as he pets down your hair and soothes you with a gentle, “You’re okay.”

He doesn’t even think about how his clothes are freezing cold and wet, he doesn’t think about anything other than the rush of rage that thrums through him at how your body shakes against him from the force of your tears. You’ve buried your face into his neck to sob and he wants to scream, wants to kill something, because you’re so wonderful, so kind and tolerant – christ you tolerate too much – and you don’t deserve to be treated the way that they do.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong this time.” Your voice is muffled against his skin but he hears you clearly just the same, and he has to blink away the spots of anger that cloud his vision.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He speaks firmly but without any hint of anger, because he knows you’d misconstrue it as him being angry with you, and he’s not. Never in a million years.

He is angry, angry that they’ve gotten you so worked up like this, angry that they’re brainwashed you and gaslit you into thinking that you should be punished for simply existing. He gets angrier with them when your wet eyes shine wide in the moonlight and you shake your head.

“Yes I did! I had to have, otherwise they – she – it wouldn’t be this way.” You falter, forgetting to breathe in that way that you sometimes do when you’re too overwhelmed.

“No, ketsl,” Flip cups your cheeks in his hands and holds you steady, grounds you the way he will always ground you when you start to get too in your own head, “You didn’t.”

You stare at him for a while, before taking in that deep breath that you need, and letting your shoulders slump. Nodding slowly, you hold his hand like a tether and reach around him to shut the window with your free hand.

“I’ve got warm clothes for you.” You whisper, giving him a sad tired smile.

 This isn’t the first time it’s happened, him climbing through your window like this. Your parents were…difficult, was a good way to describe it. Probably the only fucking way Flip would be able to politely describe it, anyway. They weren’t both bad, but one of them well…one of them made you cry so often that Flip was gearing up to lose his fucking mind about it.

He had a fleeting thought once before, that maybe he’d join the police academy, come haul them away so they can’t hurt you anymore. He’s thinking it again, thinking that it doesn’t sound so impossible now, the way it did when he was gangly. Flip had filled out, he could do it.

If it meant keeping you safe and happy, he would.

“What happened this time?” Flip hazards to ask as you rifle through your closet for clothes you’ve got hidden away.

You hand them to him and don’t bother to avert your eyes when he starts stripping down, leaving his wet clothes in a heap on that towel he’s still standing on. You’ve been Flip’s girlfriend for a year now, you’ve seen every inch of him and there’s no reason for him to hide himself away.

“Nothing.” You reply with a sigh, and Flip frowns, hands stilling as he lifts the soft and warm t-shirt over his head.

“Nothing?” He steps into the boxers too, and before you reply, you take him by the hand to your twin bed.

It’s small, you’ve had it since you were moved out of a crib and it’s barely enough room for you now, but you’re clinging to Flip and he has you tucked against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you as thunder and lightning crash outside with the rain.

“Nothing.” You whisper.

Oh, he thinks as anger flares up again.

That was the worst, the silence. They pretended like you didn’t exist sometimes, when you were being punished for a crime you didn’t commit. You would say good morning and they’d ignore you, you’d be in the room and they wouldn’t look at you, you’d be doing their dishes or their laundry and they wouldn’t say thank you. You were a ghost to them sometimes, and today must have been one of those times.

“One day I’m gonna build you a house.” Flip says, apropos of nothing. He smooths his hands over your back and kisses the top of your head, “You hear me? I’m gonna build it with my own two fuckin’ hands if I have to.”

It’s not a lie, you both know. Flip’s been working hard, so hard, has been working to save up enough that he can make good on these words. Didn’t bother going to college, went right to work after graduation with every intention of putting all of it towards building his life with you.

“I’ll buy the lumber from the mill and get us a piece of the mountain and we’ll have tulips in every room and tomatoes in the garden and you’ll never have to tiptoe through the kitchen again.” He begins to card his fingers through your hair, the very same way that you do for him when his days are bad.

“When?” You ask, and that makes Flip hopeful, because if you’re talking that means you’re listening to him, which means you’re not listening to the voices in your head that they’ve poisoned you with.

“Soon as you’re finished with school.” Flip says easily, because that’s the plan, that’s always been the plan. “You get that diploma and we’re outta here, I promise. I promise you, ketsl. You won’t even have to work, just finish that degree and we’ll go away.”

He’s going to marry you too, he knows. He doesn’t have to say it, you know that too. So instead he asks, “How many rooms do you want?”

“How many can I have?” You huff a very small laugh against his chest and shrug with one shoulder.

You shuffle yourself further up onto his chest, your body lying on top of his. He’s got his knees bent and spread so that your body can fit between them easily, your hands folded under your chin as your eyes glitter, tears clung to your lashes. You’re not crying anymore, not right now anyway, and that’s a good sign.

“How many do you want?” Flip brushes across your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me what you want.”

You sigh and turn your head towards the window. Despite the rain, the clouds have steered clear of the moon, and the silvery light outlines you in an ethereal way that Flip can’t stop staring at.

“I want an eat in kitchen. I want a formal dining table and I want us to have a sit down dinner together every night. I want a big living room with a fireplace, and a small den with a fireplace too, one for entertaining and the other just for us.” You say softly. It’s all the things you have now, but in this future world you’ll be able to enjoy them.

“Keep going.” Flip encourages, fingers in your hair against your scalp.

“I want an office where I can do work, and a library where I can read through it. I want a big bedroom and a soaking tub that I can fit all of my leg into.” Your voice grows softer and softer, and Flip can feel your breathing even out as you begin to drift to sleep.

“What else?” He whispers.

“I want a nursery – ”

“Just one?” Flip interrupts, making you chuckle softly, sleepily against him.

“They can share the nursery before growing up enough to have their own rooms.” You reason, and Flip grins even though you can’t see it, “And I want playrooms – one for them, and one for us. With a big billiards table and a marble chess set like grandpa used to have.”

“Okay.” Flip nods, letting his eyes close.

“You’ll remember all that?” You mumble, more asleep than you are awake, your hand nudging against his and linking your fingers together.

“I got it all up here ketsl.” Flip kisses the top of your head, “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

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

That had been what seems like a million years ago, that night.

And as the two of you lie awake in the king sized mattress that you picked out, surrounded by wallpaper you helped put up, in the bedroom he gave you in the house he built you just like he said he would, as you’re beaming at one another because you’re so in love, that diamond ring on your finger glinting in the lamp-light, the little ones asleep in their bedrooms all tucked in for the night, he can’t help but think he really did make good on his promise.

Just like he always will.

[scarlet-star-witch]

Hi!! I adore Din and Iella with my whole heart. I was curious if/when you take requests if you could write a Iella and Din attending a ball together scene pre Fade into You plot? Thank you so much. I love your fic so so so much ❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

I'm so sorry this is so late! I hope you enjoy! xx

Pairing: Din x Iella (Female OC)

Word count: 1829

Fade Into You Masterlist

~~

A loud, shaking breath escaped her as she looked herself up and down in the small mirror. The floor length, sequined, backless gown that exposed much more cleavage than she was used to was an enormous discomfort.

A knock at the door sounded, making her jump.

“You ready to go?”

Din’s voice calmed her immediately and she averted her critical gaze from the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she exited the room, keeping her eyes cast down to the floor shyly.

A hitched breath was all she heard, causing her to look up, finally meeting the Mandalorian's gaze that was cemented to her like he was in a trance.

“What, too much?”

“Yes, go change.” Din said immediately and Iella rolled her eyes. His reaction, the possessive tone of his voice told her that, yes, this outfit would work just fine for their mission.

“This is the only fancy thing I have. I can’t go in my combat boots.”

“You had to pick that one?”

“It was the only one we could afford. Look, I really don’t wanna be wearing this either, but we don’t really have a choice. We have to go.”

He huffed angrily, his eyes scanning up and down the length of her body again. Despite the intense anxiety he felt at the notion of her being shoulder to shoulder with those rich douchebags wearing that, he couldn’t deny that she looked gorgeous.

“We can change the plans. I can go alone.” Din said suddenly, his stomach twisting at the thought of one of those scumbags getting their hands on her. That dress didn’t exactly let her defend herself the way he knew she could.

Hearing the terseness and slight fear in his voice Iella sighed, moving to take his hands in hers.

“Isn’t the whole idea of this partnership is that I can be discreet in these kinds of missions?”

Din clenched his jaw, loathing to admit defeat on this issue. “I can go.” He insisted again which resulted in an eye roll from her.

“The second you make it known you’re not there just for security we’re gonna have a ton of shit rain down on us.”

He couldn’t argue against that, which only had his annoyance growing. “Fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “But the second you find that gang leader, you lead him outside and I’ll take care of him.”

“Din, we’ve been over the plan a million times. I know what to do.”

Din just shifted on his feet, his gaze falling to the floor again. They'd done missions like this all the time, but this was different. They were together now, their love was no longer a secret. Watching Iella schmooze had always put him on edge, but now, watching men put their hands on her would be torture.

Because now he knew what her touch felt like, what her soft skin felt like, and to know others would get that pleasure drove him mad.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out. “I know you know what to do, it’s those assholes in suits I don’t trust.”

Iella cracked a half smile at his words and ran a thumb over his gloved knuckles comfortingly. “I don’t trust them either.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” He promised her.

Iella smiled and nodded, having no doubt of his intention to keep her safe. With a deep breath and a straightening of her shoulders, she began to make her way off the crest.

“El,” His voice stopped her and she looked over her shoulder at him. “You look stunning.”

A blush bloomed on her cheeks and she bit her red glossed lip to contain her wide smile, something that made pride bloom in Din’s chest.

He watched her walk away, his heart feeling heavy. They agreed on his five minute delay to keep any suspicions from them, but his agonized state had him exiting the ship only two minutes later.

The ball room was enormous and glamorous. Iella immediately felt out of her element as she stepped inside and she quickly made her way to the bar. Flagging down the bartender and ordering, she let her eyes wander over the guests milling around her as waited for her drink.

The man beside her, once he noticed her eyes on him, smiled charmingly, inching closer to her.

Iella scanned him curiously, noting no weapons hidden on him. The wedding ring on his finger was what made her strike him out as their guy immediately. The gang leader they were looking for was definitely not the settling down type.

She waved him off with a grimace, taking a long sip of her drink. Turning to survey the rest of the room, she couldn’t help but admire the couples she saw dancing together.

The way they held each other close, the way they swayed together gazing into each other’s eyes lovingly made her stomach flip. She couldn’t help but picture herself with Din. She wished they could have a moment of normalcy in their lives for something as trivial as dancing together.

Shaking the thoughts from her head and forcing herself to focus, her eyes began to move over the guests calculatingly. She suddenly stood up straighter, fighting off a small smile when she noticed Din across the room by the main doors, practically hidden in the shadows.

She felt instantly calmer and safer than she should have in a situation like this.

“You wanna dance?”

A voice from beside her caused her to snap her head to the side. She was about ready to tell the guy to piss off, when the pendant hanging from his neck caught her attention. The geometric symbol was one she’d looked at many times over the last few weeks of tracking down the deadly gang.

That was their symbol. They had their guy.

Plastering on a sultry smile, she leaned in closer to him, feigning interest. “I’d love to.”

She linked her arm through his as he began to guide her across the ballroom. Like a spotlight, her gaze found Din. His helmeted gaze was locked on her and she nodded almost imperceptibly, silently telling him she had found the right man.

The man stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, moving to place his hands on her waist, but she stopped him.

“Why don’t we go outside?” She suggested. “We can have more privacy there.” She added, biting her lip seductively, which hooked him immediately and he began to lead her out the balcony doors eagerly.

As they walked, Iella noticed the blaster hidden beneath his jacket, tucked into his waistband. She tensed, the knife strapped to her thigh suddenly feeling like it was burning.

She didn’t even have to turn around to know that Din was following them.

Once they reached the balcony, the man placed his hands on her body, pulling her in closer to him quite aggressively.

“I’m a lucky man.” He crooned in her ear. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this place.”

Iella smiled, trying her best not to roll her eyes and cringe as his breath casted over her skin. She danced with the man for a few moments, before she noticed Din finally making his way outside and she didn’t waste anymore time in his arms.

Pulling away abruptly and wrenching his hands off her, he began to protest in confusion when she swiftly kneed him between the legs.

Din was on him a second later, quickly disarming him and tackling him to the ground. The man thrashed and squirmed, yelling obscenities at them, drawing a small crowd of concerned guests who watched in horror.

As the man struggled, elbowing Din in the side and getting back to his feet, Din didn’t give him even a moment to turn his attention to Iella. Throwing a wicked punch to his temple, the gang leader fell to the ground unconscious.

Din cuffed the man and hauled him over his shoulder to carry the body back to the ship. Looking back at the guests who watched in awe, he whispered a curse and turned back to Iella slowly.

“I’ll be back.” He whispered for her ears only. He didn’t want her implicated so he left alone, promising to sprint back for her the second the bastard was in carbonite.

Iella watched him leave, knowing it would only be a few minutes until he found her again. She assured the crowd of people that she was ok, waving off their questions and concerns, until she was finally left alone.

She leaned against the balcony, tapping her foot incessantly for what felt like forever, until she finally heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs towards her. Din’s shoulders sagged when he saw her and he slowed his pace.

“About time.” She teased.

“It was five minutes, max.”

“You might be losing your edge. Two years ago it would’ve been three minutes.”

Din huffed and rolled his eyes, moving to lean against the balcony beside her. The loud music from the ball reverberated from the closed door and he suddenly had an idea.

“We should head back.” Iella said, moving to begin the trek back to the ship, but Din’s hand on her arm stopped her and she looked up at him questioningly.

He slowly held her hand in his as his other moved towards her waist and she suddenly understood.

“Are you serious?” She asked through a laugh. She would never have pictured her intimidating Mandalorian willfully initiating dancing.

“Dead serious.” He answered simply and Iella, still slightly in shock, slowly placed her hand on his shoulder as they began to slowly move to the music.

Soon realizing how incredibly romantic this felt, she relaxed, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes in contentment.

“I saw the way you looked at those couples.” Din spoke up softly, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry I can’t give that to you.

“That’s not what I want.” It wasn’t the fancy ball or the elegant gowns she saw that she craved. It was the intimacy. “It’s this I wanted.”

Din tightened his grip on her back, holding her closer and he tilted his helmet to lay atop her head. Iella smiled, her heart beating wildly in her chest. This was better than any ball she’d ever attend.

His seeming fearless action amazed her and that spontaneity always knocked her off her feet. No one would guess, but Din was more romantic than anyone she’d ever seen.

“You know someone could walk out those doors any second, right?”

“If they do, then I guess we just have to run fast.” He shrugged.

As they danced slowly, held tightly in each other’s arms, they weren’t a couple burdened by their paths in life. She wasn’t a woman who had never seen the face of the man she loved and he wasn’t a man whose life was stilted from violence.

Now, they were just like any other couple in love.

~~

Request anything you'd like to see from these two xx

[undermounts]

Empire of Light—Chapter 4: The Ties That Bind

AO3 | Table of Contents  | Ashes and Embers | Playlist

Fic Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Ash, the party travels across Morella in search of allies to defeat the Empire of Ash, once and for all.

Chapter Summary: Back in Flotilla, Imtura makes a risky move to secure her mother’s fleet.

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

Imtura had expected a lot of things to happen when the Wraith docked at Flotilla last night. She had expected the Flotillan guards to swamp her ship—which they did—and fuss over her, flinging royal titles left and right as they knelt at her feet like a pack of obedient dogs—which they also did.

She did not, however, expect to find that her mother was gone. 

“What do you mean, ‘she’s not here?’” Imtura snarled, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Behind her, Kraglin and the rest of the crew set about unloading the Wraith’s cargo hold of old supplies and preparing the ship for a few days at port. No one knew how long they would be docked at Flotilla; Imtura supposed it depended on how stubborn her mother decided to be. 

The guards before her stiffened, taken aback by the viciousness of her tone. “Her Majesty is away on business—”

Imtura’s brows lowered. “What kind of business?”

“It is not for us to say, Your High—”

“Then what good are you?” she snapped before the man could eke out that wretched title. She glanced at Kraglin, who stood behind her, then Morrigan, who stood beside him, gazing at the floating city with unmasked wonder.  Imtura sighed, biting at her lip ring. “When will she be back?”

“We don’t know for certain. It could be as late as tomorrow evening,” one of the guards replied cautiously.

“Tomo—” Imtura cut herself off, reining in her anger. She closed her eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath, reminding herself that these men were not responsible for her mother’s activities. No one was, aside from Ventra herself. When Imtura opened her eyes again, her temper had cooled somewhat, although her irritation remained. She shook her head, unable to stop her gaze from wandering to the eastern horizon. “I can’t wait that long.”

But left with no other options, she had waited.

After a restless sleep on the Wraith, Imtura dedicated the next morning to giving Morrigan a thorough tour of the sprawling maze of floating walkways and retired vessels of Flotilla, tossing out the names of her favorite ships as she went. The Black Spire, the Copper Thief, the Bloodkraken, the Maiden of the Sea… Imtura did not even realize she knew the names of all of these places until the words were spilling out of her mouth, her voice taking on a tinge of excitement every time she urged Morrigan to take notice of something she loved so dearly. 

There was her favorite tavern, the Sailor’s Lament, which had ale that tasted like stale seawater, but she’d be damned if it wasn’t one of the cheapest and strongest drinks in Flotilla. They passed the supply mill that always gave her a few extra bags of salt for meat, not because she was Princess Imtura, but Captain Tal Kaelen, and here in the reaches of Flotilla that knew Imtura better than Ventra—out there on the roiling waves of the Cartesian Sea—she was respected as such. 

Morrigan had gone red with laughter as Imtura pointed out an old, repurposed ship that was charmingly named Taldaro’s Tit, after the legendary orc Vinestra of Clan Taldaro, who was not only known for inventing the modern warship and her incredible prowess in battle, but also her equally incredible prowess in the bedroom. Taldaro’s Tit—yes, tit singular, not plural, and if anyone bothered to ask, the Flotillans swore up and down that it was specifically, “the right tit not the left”—was the best place to go dancing after downing a few drinks in the taverns.

“You must love this place,” Morrigan noted, as she reverently ran her fingertips along the hull of a bobbing ship as they passed, the feathers of her wings whispering in the briny breeze that swept through the city. “Flotilla, I mean.”

Imtura lifted a brow, glancing over her shoulder at Morrigan as she swaggered down the wooden walkways. It was a bit of a strange feeling, to finally have to look up at someone else as she spoke. Morrigan wasn’t built like Imtura, but she did have a good couple of inches on the orc captain, and Imtura knew that her strength wasn’t something to scoff at.

“You think so, birdie?” she questioned.

Morrigan nodded, gazing around. “The way you talk about Flotilla… It’s the same way my brother talks about the Aerie. With such fondness and familiarity.”

Imtura shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets as she ambled along. “I’m fond of it, yeah. And I know the city like the back of my hand. It’s familiar.” 

“Well,” Morrigan said casually, glancing over at Imtura. “Maybe knowing something and loving something aren’t all that different.”

Imtura thought that over for a few moments, then bobbed her head. “Maybe you’ve got a point. I know all about the less than amazing parts of the city, and sometimes… Well, sometimes coming back here bums me out,” she confessed. “Feels a bit like swapping out the sea for some shackles.” She shook her head and shrugged. “But no matter what happens, it’ll always be home.”

Imtura mulled this conversation over as she sat at a rickety, ale-stained table in a cozy corner of the Sailor’s Lament, an untouched stein resting by her elbow. After wrapping up her tour with Morrigan, Imtura spent the next few hours whipping the Wraith into tip top shape. She swabbed the deck, replaced frayed sections of the rigging, and chipped barnacles off the hull—it was menial work, housekeeping chores that Imtura had not done since she herself was a swabbie. 

That must have been…  almost a decade ago, at least. Imtura could not wrap her head around the fact that it had been nearly ten years since that fateful evening, when she had ran away from Flotilla and stowed herself away on the infamous Sea King. But that was another story.

Repairing the Wraith was not stimulating work, but it was distracting, and Imtura was more than happy to take on the tasks, if only so she could have something to do while she waited for her dreaded mother to finally grace her with an appearance. 

But the crew—namely Kraglin, with his damned big heart—put their foot down when Imtura started polishing the Wraith’s hull. 

“What kind of pirate lets their captain do all of the work?” Kraglin had exclaimed jovially before stooping to grab Imtura’s legs while his twin brother, Marglin, grabbed her shoulders and began to haul her, kicking and spewing obscenities, off the ship. “You’ve got to have some fun, boss.” 

They dragged her, and consequently, Morrigan, into the Flotillan nightlife, down the bobbing, uneven avenues, all the way to the Sailor’s Lament, where her quartermaster and boatswain ordered a round of ale for the entire crew, including that yellow-bellied, doe-eyed, Parnassus cabin boy.

“This is coming out of your coin, not mine,” Imtura snarled as they set her down at a booth in the far corner of the tavern and gave her a tankard, much to their merry amusement.

“Sure thing, boss,” Marglin promised placatingly, ordering a platter of roasted octopus, fried fish heads, and seaweed skewers for the table. “Sure thing.”

With a mixture of warmth and amusement, Imtura watched her crewmates guzzle down their rounds from her spot in the secluded booth, ale sloshing over the edges of their tankards, and Morrigan sandwiched in between them. She was glad to see that her crew had quickly taken the winged woman in, treating her like one of their own, and Morrigan, to her credit, had no problem in keeping up with their revelry. 

By the Moon, Morrigan matched Iskra—the Wraith’s navigator—pint for pint without losing her wits, and that woman could drink most orcs under the table. Morrigan also didn’t even bat an eye at the strange array of food. Imtura reckoned that in Rysoth, she’d probably seen stranger.

Imtura wished she could join them, that she could laugh, and dance, and get so irrefutably drunk, she couldn't even remember her own damn name. But for the first time in her swashbuckling life, she did not drink.

She simply couldn’t. There was too much resting on this meeting with Ventra, and even though being a little drunk may have been the only hope she had of getting through said meeting with her sanity intact, it would do no good to anyone for her to show up boozed off her feet. Her mother was already disappointed in her enough.

Imtura watched Morrigan, the members of her crew, and the other Flotillans with a warm sort of contentment that wriggled its way into her anxious heart. She supposed that even if this whole meeting with Ventra went to complete and utter shit, there was one good thing that came out of her return to Flotilla: she got to bring her crew home once more, got to give them this small slice of normalcy before the world went arse up again.

Imtura reached into her pocket and pulled out a single gold doubloon. It was an old piece, dated from before the current Morellian currency was established, and was the first bit of gold Imtura had ever earned as a pirate, a gift from one great captain to another. Only Imtura hadn’t been a captain then. Just a runaway princess, trying to find where she belonged.

Imtura flipped the coin on her thumb and caught it, weighing it thoughtfully in her palm. On one side, it featured a familiar curving symbol. At the bottom, there was a curled arch that looked like a wave poised to crash. Above that was a seashell-like spiral, with two great horns sprouting from the sides. The symbol of her people. The other side featured a crude depiction of land and sea meeting beneath a sky full of stars.

Both faces were worn, both from age and years of Imtura rubbing her thumb against its surface whenever she felt the weight of leadership to be particularly heavy upon her shoulders. She set it on the old, wooden table and spun it on its edge, the lantern lights of the tavern flickering on its golden face.

If I ever find it… I’ll let you know. 

The coin spun and spun, then wobbled and wavered.

Then, you can bring our people home.

It was a foolish plan, a dreamer’s hope. Imtura knew that place was long gone, lost to fire, to the sea, and to time itself. To go looking for it… That was like chasing a child’s fairytale.

But… 

She had seen many impossible things, even before getting involved with this Shadow Realm business. She had seen so many wonders… What was one more?

Imtura caught the doubloon as it fell, swiping her thumb over the surface that featured the landscape. Then, she pocketed it and stood.

After leaving a quick word with Kraglin, Imtura ducked out of the Sailor’s Lament and made her way across the bobbing walkways of Flotilla, acknowledging the passing nods of respect she got as Captain and ignoring the deferential inclinations she received as Princess.

Officially, Flotilla had no temples or shrines dedicated to elements of nature the orcs worshipped: the Skies, the Winds, the Ocean, the Earth, the Sun, the Stars, and the Moon. Unlike the Faith of the Light and the Shared Pantheon, religion among the orcs was decentralized, piety left to the individual. But there were places in the floating city in which Imtura’s people liked to leave their offerings.

The Sea Nymph was one such place. 

Imtura crossed the gangway onto an old, barnacle-covered ship, reaching out to affectionately pat its hull as she boarded. On the bow of the ancient vessel, the name was painted in flowing script, the white paint faded with age. 

Barely an adolescent, Imtura had not been around when Ventra officially won over all of the orc fleets and established Flotilla as her capital. Instead, she had been hidden away on a ship with a few trusted orcs of the Minurva Clan, far away from all of the danger and political turmoil as her mother upended centuries of tradition. 

But Imtura heard that at the time, when Flotilla was little more than a small cluster of old ships and floating shacks, the Sea Nymph had already been stationed here, with a small collection of oddities already hidden inside. There were even rumors that the Sea Nymph was the first ship in Flotilla, the starting point around which the rest of the floating city had been constructed. 

Imtura did not know if those rumors were true, but the Sea Nymph was certainly weathered enough to fit the tale, and in the last decade, no one had ever claimed ownership of the vessel. As such, its wellbeing was left in the collective hands of the Flotillans, which was probably why it had fallen into a state of such disrepair.

As she crossed the deck of the orphaned vessel and descended the stairs that led into its belly, Imtura found herself wishing she could have seen the Sea Nymph in its heyday. Even with all of its rotted wood and the massive holes that gaped in the floors, there were still vestiges of its past glory—faded gold filigree on the bannister, waterlogged wool rugs, chipped carvings of mermaids laid into the creaking walls… 

Once, it must have been beautiful.

But now, Imtura supposed the ship had a different kind of beauty, and if she was being honest, she preferred it. Deep in the vessel’s cargo hold, Imtura was surrounded by the multitude of offerings orcs from all across the Cartesian Sea had left here for the elements. 

Windchimes and sparkling bits of glass hung from the ceiling, tinkling softly with the swaying motion of the ship and the lazy breeze that streamed through the cracks in the hull—offerings to the Skies and the Winds.

An old fur rug sat in the back corner, right in the path of the moonlight that streamed into the room through a hole in the side of the ship. On top of the rug sat precious gemstones and silver dimes, offerings laid out for the Moon and the Stars.

Imtura crossed to the ship’s stern and clambered up a ladder made of rope, hauling herself into what had once been the quarters of the Sea Nymph’s captain. The bedroom was in no better shape than the rest of the ship—the main entrance was obstructed by fallen beams and splintered wood, the velvet canopy of the bed was peppered with holes and coated in dust. But it still held an air of sanctity and whispers of grandeur.

The doors to the balcony had been left open by the last visitor, the tattered curtains flowing like strands of spider silk. Imtura crossed onto the balcony, which served as yet another shrine. Shells, broken bits of coral, and even small pieces of ships—the knob of a wheel, a shredded flag—were balanced atop the railing or laid on the ground. But the majority of the offerings made to the Ocean were dropped over the side of the balustrade, right into the sea itself.

Imtura reached into her pockets, fingers scrounging around for anything she could offer up to the elements. All she had was a bit of lint, a few ribbons to tie her off her braids, and that golden doubloon. For a moment, Imtura contemplated flipping the coin over the side of the ship, but sentimentality—and perhaps a bit of child-like hope—had her pocketing the gold piece once more. Instead, Imtura took her ribbons and tied them around the wooden posts that upheld the railing.

She watched them flutter in the wind for a moment, taking that as a sign nature had accepted her meager offering, and was about to turn when a voice behind her spoke up.

“The tavern wasn’t fun enough, for you?”

Imtura half-turned, bracing her hand against the wooden banister. A single sand dollar was nudged out of the way by her fingers and fell into the gentle waves with a plunk!

“Morrigan.” Imtura relaxed slightly, dropping the hand that had instinctively moved to hover over one of her axes. “Like sneaking up on me, do you?”

Morrigan shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. You were just…” she shrugged, her gaze roaming over Imtura’s head. “Deep into your own thoughts, I suppose. What is this place?” she asked, looking around the captain’s cabin with an unreadable expression. “It’s…”

Imtura half-expected her to say “old” or “a wreck” or perhaps “a rotting shithole” and frankly, she would have been right to do so. 

But instead, Morrigan said, “Incredible.”

Imtura let out a little breath, lips easing into a casual smile. “Isn’t it? This is where we orcs sometimes come to give up offerings to the elements. There’s no other place in Flotilla like it.”

“Give up offerings?” Morrigan asked, joining Imtura on the balcony. She tucked her wings in tight behind her, taking care to avoid knocking over any of the items strewn about. “Is that what you were doing just now? Making an offering?”

“Yeah,” Imtura shrugged, glancing down at the ribbons that danced in the breeze. “S’pose so.”

“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” Morrigan noted although there was no judgment or accusation in her voice. 

“I’m not, really,” Imtura admitted, tapping her fingers against the railing. “At least not in the way that the humans, elves, and your folk are. I didn’t even believe in the gods until recently.” She turned away, fixing her attention on the slivers of the dark horizon that were visible in between other ships and bobbing structures. “We orcs don’t have temples or priests or anything like that. These offerings… they’re just meant to give back to what made us. The elements. And maybe get a little good luck along the way.”

“Good luck?” Morrigan asked, lifting a coppery brow. In the moonlight, the freckles that splashed across her cheeks looked like little stars. She smiled slightly, nudging Imtura’s elbow with her own. “What does a fearsome orc captain like you need luck for?”

Imtura huffed through her nose. “Meet my mother and then you’ll understand.”

Morrigan raised her eyebrows at Imtura for a moment, then nodded. “Ah. So, it’s like that,” she mused aloud. “You think you’ll have difficulty convincing your mother to send the fleet to Morella’s aid.”

“Without question,” Imtura replied. “She harbors no love for human kings. And as far as she’s concerned, the elves can go right on ahead and isolate themselves into extinction.”

“Harsh,” Morrigan muttered and Imtura shrugged.

“Sometimes, I can’t blame her,” she confessed, nudging aside a few offerings to brace her forearms on the railing. “I don’t agree with her, but… There was a time when my people were thought of as the scum of Morella. By some people, we still are. That’s why you’ll never find an orc east of Port Parnassus. Not just because we can’t live without the sea, but because no town would ever have us.”

Imtura laughed, the sound more harsh and bitter than she had intended it to be. “‘We lay no roots,’” she stated, shaking her head. “That’s our motto. It’s what my people have lived by ever since we lost Kell D’hana. My ancestors promised to never settle, to always seek adventure, and to chase the thrill of conquest. But look at Flotilla. A bunch of stationary ships and floating buildings.”

“By your principles, Flotilla should not exist,” Morrigan said slowly, picking up on Imtura’s line of thought.

“Exactly.” Imtura nodded, sighing heavily. “If you ask me, the reason we’re so proud to be a seafaring race is because it goes against the one thing we want but can’t have.”

“And what’s that?”

“A home,” Imtura stated somberly. “Not just Flotilla, but a real home. A place to belong. One that won’t go up in flames if a single lantern drops.”

She’d never spoken about this before, to anyone. In fact, she rarely ever gave these thoughts any time, for just thinking them felt almost treasonous. Even when she reminisced with the party, she usually only told them about how much she missed sailing and her crew. They’d always understood. But maybe that was why it was easier to talk to Morrigan. Because Morrigan didn’t understand. She didn’t know the orcs like Morellians did, didn’t know what they were and weren’t supposed to be.

“It’s all material, though,” Imtura added, feeling a bit of warmth rush to her cheeks at her confession, the uncomfortable sense of vulnerability she now felt. “I know that as long as I’ve got my crew and my freedom, I’ll be alright. ‘Home is where the heart is’ and all that.”

“Are you trying to make me believe that or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Imtura let out a startled huff, surprised—and a little impressed—by Morrigan’s bluntness. “You’re nosy aren’t you?”

Morrigan shrugged, shaking her head. “You sound like you have some stuff you’ve got to work through. I’m just trying to help you figure out what that is.”

Imtura eyed the other woman cautiously. Morrigan was fun. Fun to flirt with, fun to banter with, and Imtura was certain that there was a great deal of other kinds of fun they could get up to together. But now, Imtura began to wonder if whatever flirtation they had between them could ever be more than just fun.

She could stand to find out.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she confessed softly, tugging at the ends of her hair. “But I feel like there’s a part of me missing. Like I’m searching for a place I’ve never been, a place that I’ve never seen. But deep down, I know it and it knows me. Even though we have never met.”

“A home,” Morrigan said, her voice equally soft.

Imtura nodded, trying not to shy away from Morrigan’s green gaze. “Yeah.”

“Do you think a place like that exists out there?” Morrigan asked.

“I don’t know that, either,” Imtura admitted. She supposed that for an adventurer, there was a lot about the world she did not know. “Maybe. I once…” She shook her head, turning her gaze to stare into the depths of the sea below them, the dark waves reflecting the silver moonlight. “I once knew a woman who planned to find out. I’ll never know if she did.”

“Well, just so you know…” Morrigan said after a few moments had passed in silence. “Whether a place like that exists or not, if you ever decide to quit swashbuckling and settle down, the Aerie would gladly have you.”

Imtura smiled at that, leaning her weight on one elbow as she looked over at Morrigan. “Well, just so you know… You’ll always have a place at my hearth. And on my ship.” Then she winked and added, “In case you ever find a storm you can’t handle.”

Morrigan grinned, shifting a little closer. “I’ve been told that the captain’s quarters are the warmest place on the Wraith. Is that true?”

“I’d say so,” Imtura replied, pushing away from the railing to take a step toward Morrigan. She reached out, fingers brushing aside a coppery strand of Morrigan’s unbound hair from her cheek. It was so rare that the Avian woman wore it outside of a plait, and Imtura was possessed by the sudden urge to run her hands through it. “But you are welcome to find out for yourself any time.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Morrigan whispered, her cheeks rounding against Imtura’s fingertips as she smiled and began to lean in.

“As you should,” Imtura murmured, sliding her hand from Morrigan’s cheek to the back of her neck as she closed her eyes. She felt Morrigan’s breath on her skin and thought faintly that she smelled like a storm, wild and reckless. Imtura wondered if she tasted like one, too.

“Captain?” 

Sunken hells.

Stifling a groan, Imtura turned away, prepared to bite the head off of whoever just interrupted them. But when she saw her quartermaster, Kraglin, standing in the captain’s quarters of the Sea Nymph, his face uncharacteristically sober, she stiffened. She knew why he had come.

Kraglin nodded, catching the look of understanding that crossed Imtura’s face.

“It’s time.”

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Mayhem at the Menagerie

Egypt, 1345 BC

I crouched at the edge of our woven papyrus raft and peered down at the dark green-blue water, harpoon in hand. Along the river’s edge near the reeds, there drifted a plump tilapia almost two feet long. I licked my lips at the thought of chowing down on its succulent flesh. The fish would feed both Nebet and I for at least one day, if not two.

I stabbed at the tilapia. It escaped by darting over to the reeds, where it vanished. Under my breath, I cursed Sutekh’s mischief for hexing my aim yet again. The aardvark-faced Lord of Chaos had caused me nothing but grief and disappointment since we had set out on the day’s expedition early in the morning.

Nebet, my niece of ten years, held up a line of rope with a hook, a tiny morsel of mutton affixed to it. “You sure you don’t want to use the lure, Aunt Takhi?”

I gave her a half-serious scowl while accepting her lure with a grumble. I would always protect the child with my life, but I had to admit that she had grown into quite the smart mouth over the last few years.

I plopped the hook into the water. “I must have underestimated how rusted my fishing skills have grown. When I was your age, Nebet, I would put all the boys to shame at this.”

“Maybe find yourself a man who would do the fishing for you?” Nebet asked. “There should be plenty to go around, and most of them seem to like you.”

I raised my eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

“Whenever you go by, they always seem to look at you twice. And you know that old Vizier Ay from way back? I remember he sounded like he wanted you for himself.”

The memory of that shriveled husk of a man, that lecherous lackey of the false Pharaoh, flooded the inside of my mouth with a sour flavor. The passage of five years since we last crossed paths had not softened my distaste for him and his minions. I would sooner swim with crocodiles than occupy the same room as him.

“You have seen much more than any child your age should see, my little niece,” I said. “As far as men are concerned, the problem I have isn’t that I can’t attract any. If anything, they like me more than I like any of them.”

“Then maybe you like women more, Aunt Takhi?” Nebet said. “Maybe you could have another woman in place of a man?”

I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “No, no, I prefer men in the way you mean. It is only that I haven’t found a man worthy of our house. Maybe I should consult the priestesses of Hetheru. They might know why.”

For most of my life, it was Sekhmet I served more than any of the other old gods or goddesses. Yet the stories held that Sekhmet, she of the lion mask and blood-stained gown, was in truth another guise of the loving bovine Hetheru. Perhaps calling upon my patron goddess would convince her to shift forms and answer my prayer for love.

“I thought there weren’t any more priestesses of Hetheru?” Nebet said. “The Pharaoh shut all their temples down long ago. Don’t you remember?”

She was right. Too often, my mind drifted back to the better days of my youth, before the false Pharaoh assumed the throne and desecrated everything his righteous father had built and maintained. I had to return to the present, not think too much of the past or future, and get back to fishing.

I checked our hook beneath the water’s surface. The bait had disappeared, yet there was no fish attached. They must have figured how to bite off the meat without getting themselves caught. How foolish I had been to let myself get distracted!

A wave rocked our raft from the side. Over by the far bank, a man screamed while splashing and thrashing his arms in the air. Zipping through the water towards him was the bumpy, olive-brown wedge of a crocodile’s head.

I told Nebet to watch the raft and dove in. Moving my arms in sweeping arcs while kicking my legs behind me, I propelled myself through the warm and murky river after the struggling man. The current kept pulling him away from me, and the crocodile advanced with greater speed.

Another splash. A cloud of blood stung my eyes under the water’s surface. The crocodile seized the man’s arm and pulled him deeper into the river. I took a deep breath and swam after the reptile, whipping out my bronze dagger from the sash around my loincloth. The beast’s swishing tail kept pushing me back with stirs of the current.

I could not catch up to the crocodile, no matter how much I pushed myself through the water.

I had to attack from afar. I threw my dagger into the crocodile’s neck. It released the man in its recoil, and I scooped up the man in my arms. He weighed more than me, but I wasted no time hauling him back to the surface.

Suddenly, sharp teeth pierced my calves. The crocodile dragged me into the depths, stretching the muscles of my leg with every shake of its head. I rammed my other heel into its snout, to no avail.

Then something shot into the space between the crocodile’s eyes. After its jaws released me, it fell limp into the darkness below, the narrow shaft of a harpoon sticking out through the blood that jetted from its wounds. In the distance, the enlarging silhouettes of more crocodiles emerged, all closing in on their injured neighbor. As I made my way to the surface, I could hear their ravenous chomping amidst the gurgle of water.

Once I resurfaced, I found our raft floating right next to me in the middle of the river. “Did you throw that harpoon, Nebet?”

She shook her head. “That would be him.”

The man I had rescued lent his hand to pull me onto the raft. His coppery skin, more typical of the provinces of Lower Egypt much further downriver, contrasted with my own dark umber color by a couple of shades.

“I owe you everything I have for saving my life over there,” he said with a subtle Lower Egyptian drawl.

I wrung the water out of my dreadlocks. “The same for you. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“You guessed correctly, my girl. My family’s from the countryside near Djedet. Matter of fact, I’ve been up here at Waset for, what, only since the last inundation?”

He ran his hand over his shaven scalp and smiled at me with full lips between his moustache and short beard. I had to admit that he was somewhat handsome in a trim and lean way. Judging by the way he ran his eyes along the contours of my figure, he seemed more interested in my own good looks.

“Sorry, forgot to introduce myself,” the man said. “Call me Nenwef. And you are…?”

“Takhaet. And this would be my niece, Nebet. I had to take her in after her parents, well, got into some trouble with the Pharaoh.”

“Takhaet, you say? I’ve heard of you somewhere before. Yes, you were one of the last Pharaoh’s favorite warriors!”

I grinned as I stroked one of the gold fly medals attached to my necklace. “Those were the good times. If only our new Pharaoh would find as much for me to do.”

“Tell me about it. He seems so preoccupied with that whole new god of his that he’s left everything else to the jackals. Which, come to speak of it, is why I left Djedet for Upper Egypt. You’ve heard the whole Delta’s been overrun with pirates and bandits, haven’t you?”

“By the gods, no! Has it gotten that bad down there?”

Nenwef gave me a grim frown. “Believe me, girl, that’s putting it mildly. Some of them come from all around the Great Green Sea, such as the Canaanites, the Greeks, and these newcomer barbarians they call the Sea Peoples. The saddest thing, however, is that some of our people have been going pirate as well, either due to bad influences or simply to make ends meet. Wherever they’re from, they’re all turning Lower Egypt into a mess worse than a den of ravenous hyenas.”

“Excuse me, Nenwef, but what were you doing in the middle of the river, anyway?” Nebet asked.

“Oh, I was out catching some fowls for my evening meal. Then I bumped into some ornery hippos… and you know the rest.”

Along the far riverbank, I spotted a distant herd of hippopotami milling about in the water. Yet I could not make out anything that looked like a capsized raft. Perhaps the gluttonous brutes had eaten the reeds that made up its body.

“I should have a few ducklings stored at my place,” I said. “You’ll be welcome to spend the evening there. Tomorrow, we’ll row you back home.”

Nenwef bowed to me. “Thank you very much again, my lovely lady.”

I felt a warm flush in my cheeks. Behind me, I could hear Nebet’s giddy snickering.

##

We did not dine on anything grand for our evening meal. I simply warmed up some of the ducklings I had stored, along with a bowlful of bread, in my front yard oven. I took these and three cups of frothy beer on a platter to our hut’s flat thatched roof, where Nebet sat in watch while Nenwef rested on my wooden bed. Blood-stained linen bandages covered the area on his arm where the crocodile had bitten him.

I laid the platter by the bed. He plucked up a duckling with his good arm and bit into it. “Not bad. Almost as good as the ones my old mother would cook when I was a boy.”

I prodded my elbow into his ribs. “Almost as good?”

“Don’t feel ashamed. Not many could even compare to her cooking.”

“Her birds were hand-caught, I presume? Because I bought these at the marketplace a couple of days ago. Small wonder they’d be a step down from whatever your mother could fix.”

Nebet was already polishing off her duckling’s bones. “I bet my mother could cook even better than yours.”

Nenwef laughed. “I’m sure she’d be flattered to hear that, but there couldn’t be any contest between them, believe me.”

“Nor should there be,” I added.

Nenwef got off the bed to stand up and gaze at the surrounding village of huts, dirt roads, and palm and sycamore fig trees planted between the buildings. When he faced the Nile to the west, its waters shimmering in gold from the sunset, he beamed with a contented sigh. He pointed to some alabaster-white structures rising from the treetops beyond the river’s farthest bank. “You can see the old Pharaoh’s palace across the river from here, you know? If only we had such lovely views back near Djedet.”

“It’s all flat swampland outside that city, isn’t it?” I asked. “Though I hear it is quite lush regardless.”

“I suppose it is.”

Nenwef directed his eyes to my necklace of gold flies. “I don’t know if it’s true, but word on the street around here says that you, O Takhaet, fended off a whole pride of lions once. Or was it leopards?”

The breeze blowing over my village, once balmy, had turned cold as midnight. How had he even heard of that incident five years ago? “It…was both. There were only three of them, and they were each a cross between lion and leopard.”

“I see. And they also said you sent a whole herd of gazelles stampeding over the Pharaoh’s men when they were out to arrest you for heresy.”

“That’s true as well. In fact, I later sent those lion/leopard cats after them, too. But how do you know about all that? Ay promised me he’d cover the whole affair up.”

With a sly smirk, Nenwef shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t have to hear it straight from the Vizier. Like I said, it was word on the street.”

I remembered that my whole village had celebrated our act of rebellion against Akhenaten’s henchmen with jubilant drumming and dancing, the roasting of cattle and game, and everyone chanting in praise of Sekhmet. The battle roar I let out in her honor rang within my ears again. I should have known the people of my village would recall that occasion with the same vivid colors.

“Whatever way I came to hear of it, those have to be the most amazing feats I’ve ever heard of,” Nenwef said. “So amazing, indeed, that they’ve inspired me to stand up to the false Pharaoh’s tyranny myself. He can’t go on lazing in that shining new palace of his while the rest of Egypt breaks down with barbarians at its gates. No, I intend to march in there and give him a piece of my own mind!”

I spat out the beer I had imbibed. “You don’t expect he would even let you set a single foot in his great house, do you?”

“He is supposed be Pharaoh, the steward of Upper and Lower Egypt, is he not? He has no choice but to listen to his people at some point, even if what they’re telling him isn’t what he wants to hear. You expect me to do nothing while he lets raping thieves tear my home province apart?”

“No, of course not! What I do expect, however, is that he’ll have you thrown out. Maybe fed to his lions, or whatever he keeps in his little menagerie.”

Nenwef laid a hand on my shoulder with a grin. “Which is where you’ll come in, my girl. Why don’t we persuade him together? His best guards couldn’t restrain a seasoned warrior like you even if they tried.”

I dropped my cup of beer onto the thatching below. “No. Out the question. I can’t leave Nebet here all alone while I go off with you.”

Nebet looked up at me with sparkling eyes, wringing her fingers together. “Then why not bring me with you, Aunt Takhi? I’ve always wanted to see what the Pharaoh’s new capital looks like. I heard it’s magnificent.”

“I heard that too, but you should know it’s all been built on the backs of starving men, women, and even children your age,” I said. “And I would never dare let either Akhenaten or his slavering pack of jackals near you. You should stay where you’ll be safe, little baboon.”

“I wouldn’t assume she would be in danger,” Nenwef said. “Akhenaten might be cruel, but even he should know that hurting a child for the world to see would turn all his subjects against him. Not to mention, he goes out of his way to present himself as doting on his own young.”

“So you think that means he’ll have mercy on the children of his enemies, too?”

“What I mean is, we could use your niece’s presence to temper his wrath. I say bring her along with us. Together, we can convince Pharaoh of the error of his ways.”

He curled his hand into a fist and nodded. “Do we have a deal, Takhaet?”

“You mean all the error of his ways, or simply the error affecting your province back in Lower Egypt?” I asked.

“All his ways, trust me.”

With a shrug, I bumped his fist. “Then we have a deal.”

Nebet clapped her hands. “Yay! I get to see the Pharaoh’s new city after all.”

I gave her puffs of fluffy hair a playful scratch. “And maybe help change the course of his rule for all history to record.”

##

The sun had only begun to sail up from the east when we walked off the ferry onto the dock, yet the towering entrance to Akhenaten’s new capital blasted us with the brilliant glow of walls a purer white than the limestone casing of the ancient pyramids. Inscribed on each side of the entrance were the painted likenesses of the Pharaoh and his Queen receiving the gold-handed rays of his god Aten with open hands. Flanking them were the relatively miniature figures of their children.

Nenwef hadn’t lied when he said Akhenaten wanted to present himself as benevolent towards his own family. Perhaps he was. Yet the knowledge that the false Pharaoh had conscripted whole gangs of youths and children, some no older than my little niece, to build his new home had dimmed the luster of the architecture.

From beside the entrance’s doorway, two royal guards marched towards us. One of them bowed his head to Nenwef, who whispered something into the man’s ear. I thought that little exchange strange for a native of Lower Egypt who claimed to be a newcomer to all the upriver provinces.

“Welcome to Akhetaten, our new capital,” Nenwef said. “I was, uh, telling the guard that we wanted an audience with the Pharaoh.”

“Will we get to see the menagerie soon after?” Nebet asked.

Nenwef winked at her. “Soon, little one. Very, very soon afterward.”

The guard displayed a cheerful smile full of radiant white teeth. “We’ll be very happy to give you a tour of Akhetaten in all its glory, my lady. First, however, the Pharaoh requests your presence in the Temple to Aten. Follow us.”

The guard’s singsong chime with made me shudder with a chill despite the morning’s rising warmth. Nor did I care for the name Akhenaten had chosen for his new abode. It sounded too much like his own name, except for a hard “t” in place of the “n”. He could only have intended that similarity.

We followed the guards through the entrance and a series of white-walled plazas and alleyways, all shaded with rows of columns and stands of trees and flowers that flooded the place with a natural fragrance. Even the tiled floors dazzled with a smooth polish unmarred by the dirt or grime of a normal city street. Did Akhenaten have his legion of servants wash the entire city every evening? Not even Amenhotep the Third, his nobler father and predecessor on the throne, would be so meticulous in keeping everything in his capital so clean.

Unless, of course, this whole city was nothing more than an overgrown palace for the false Pharaoh, rather than a place for people from all walks of life to call home.

We walked down an avenue bordered on both sides by a row of sphinxes watching us with stoic silence as we passed them. At the end was the entrance to the Temple of Aten, an edifice twice as tall as the city entrance we passed through earlier. Images of Aten, portrayed as a golden disk shooting down dozens of arms like a monstrous corruption of an octopus from the Great Green’s waters, adorned the temple gateway’s left and right sides. So this was the face of the false god Akhenaten wanted to force upon all of Egypt, instead of the gods we had always venerated!

We entered the temple and a broad, open courtyard fringed with palm and acacia trees. At its center stood none other than the Pharaoh himself, together with his Queen, Nefertiti.

Akhenaten did not appear much like his statues and wall reliefs. They showed him as a tall and lean man, albeit with a strange paunch on his belly like a pregnant woman’s womb. The man who stood before us, arms crossed and holding the royal crook and flail, was a stout bulb whose enormous gut glistened with oil like a ball of grease-stained mahogany. A devious grin spread across his pudgy face when he laid his beady eyes on me.

His Queen looked closer to my expectation. She was a slender woman with gleaming dark chestnut skin and a tall blue crown like a cylinder, which flared out at the top. The woman stood a head taller than her husband. Behind them stood another, much lankier man with a dreadlocked wig much too black for his wrinkled date of a face. There was no mistaking his smug sneer as that of anyone other than Ay, the old Vizier himself.

Akhenaten spread his arms wide apart. “Welcome home, my soldier Rameses. I knew you’d catch what once eluded my Vizier.”

“And I have to say you dress like a quite convincing commoner,” Nefertiti said. “You could’ve fooled even me.”

The man I had known as Nenwef bowed at the waist before the Pharaoh. “It helped that I did use to be one, before Your Highness lifted me up from my poverty. Though, I must remind you to give some credit to old Ay. The trap was his design, remember?”

I wanted to draw out one of my daggers —except I left all of them at home. They would have confiscated any weapons on me anyway. I could only screech out the worst profanity that came to mind. “How could you, Ay? It’s been five years!”

Ay strutted to me with a vindictive cackle. “Five years was all the time I needed for you to lower your guard, young Takhaet. Or were you foolish enough to think those ‘concessions’ I made, right after your beastly friends had decimated my men, were sincere in the least?”

He handed a bronze sword to Rameses, who ran his finger over its blade with a satisfied look before pointing it at my gullet. “She sure was gullible enough to believe I was a poor and oppressed commoner seeking rebellion like herself, wasn’t she?” Rameses said.

I took one step back, and bumped into the guards’ cowhide shields behind me. “What do you want from me this time? Because I’d sooner die than throw away the gods of our ancestors in favor of yours, you false Pharaoh!”

Akhenaten clapped his hands. “I admire your heroic devotion to the old ways, my subject, but you misunderstand me this time. I don’t seek to change your faith, but that of the one closest to you.”

Nefertiti knelt before my niece and reached a finger to stroke the girl’s chin, but Nebet jerked away to huddle by my side.

“You have to admit, she looks like she’s grown up in poverty,” the Queen said. “And you’ve been raising her all by yourself, like a single mother in the slums. That’s no way for a child to grow up, is it?”

“You’re wrong, you mean lady,” Nebet said. “We’re not poor, and Aunt Takhi has taken better care of me than you ever could!”

“Aw, she thinks I’m a mean lady, does she? Maybe she’ll think differently when I take her in. Unlike you, Aunt Takhi, we can afford all kinds of toys for our children in our big and clean, comfortable home. We even have a whole menagerie of animals from all over the world right here in this city. Wouldn’t you like to see the chimpanzees at least, little girl?”

I drew my hand back to slap the Queen, but Rameses grabbed my hand and pinned it against my body. The cold bronze tips of the guards’ spears dug into the nape of my neck.

“That isn’t going to work, bitch!” I said. “You can try to manipulate her all you want, but nothing you have to offer could ever replace her love for me. Or her mother, or her father. What happened to them, may I ask?”

“They…were every bit as unrepentant as you,” Akhenaten said. “So, I had to address them the only way I could. You need to understand, my subject, that I cannot allow a single voice of dissent to remain if I am to realize my vision for Egypt. If I do, who knows how many dozens might hear that voice? And whom might those dozens speak to in turn? You see how it could lead to my eventual undoing?”

“You would have nothing to fear were you a just ruler, Akhenaten.”

“Ah, but I do see myself as a just ruler. A ruler so just that he wishes to usher in a new age for our civilization, instead of clinging onto the obsolete traditions of our ancestors like cowardly children. Since you, on the other hand, have demonstrated time and time again that nothing I can do can change your mind, I have no choice but to eliminate you.”

“And I know precisely how you should do it,” Rameses added. “Credit where it’s due, this woman did save my life from a crocodile while I was in the river. Let us see how she fares against a whole float of them.”

Nebet tightened her arms on me. “No! How could you do that to her? Leave my Aunt Takhi alone!”

Nefertiti pounced and dragged her into her embrace. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to watch. Like I promised, I’ll take good care of—”

She shrieked as Nebet bit down on her arm. “Why, you little… Let’s see, should I feed you to the chimpanzees, or throw you down into the crocodiles with your aunt instead? I say, the latter sounds more fitting a punishment to me. Wouldn’t you say, Rameses?”

 “Agreed. If they love each other as much as they claim, why don’t we watch them die together?”

Everyone around Nebet and I laughed like hyenas on the hunt. Even more so than Akhenaten or the rest of his clique combined, Rameses’ laughter made my legs buckle.

##

The guards did not withdraw their spears from my neck until they had escorted me into the city’s menagerie. Fences of bronze atop mudbrick foundations enclosed the animals’ living spaces, each of which contained trees, rocks, and at least one waterhole for drinking. I did appreciate that these pens resembled their animals’ native habitats to one extent or another. The hippos got a pool framed with papyrus and tall grass, the lions an expanse of sand and grass with a couple of acacia trees, and the chimpanzees a grove of fig and palm trees like their jungle home in Egypt’s far south.

Akhenaten took better care of his exotic pets than he did his human subjects.

We stopped at another pool. Unlike the hippopotamus pool, the bones of fish, goats, and cattle were strewn around scattered islets of stone, exuding an even more rancid odor than the musty one that rose from the still water. Over the edges of the pool swayed slender eucalyptus trees with white bark that seemed to be peeling off.

“These wouldn’t be like the crocodiles we have over in the Nile, mind you,” Rameses said. “We brought these over from a land very far away to the southeast. They can thrive even in seawater, hence why the natives call them ‘saltwater crocodiles’, or ‘salties’ for short. Aren’t they all beauties?”

I could only see the top of one crocodile’s head poking up from the opaque, muddy water. Even from a distance, it appeared nearly twice as big as the one from which I had saved “Nenwef”. I gulped down a mouthful of air.

“I think they need something to bring them out of hiding,” Nefertiti said. “How about feeding time?”

With a rocking swing of her arms, she tossed Nebet into the pool. I tore away from the guards, hurdled over the fence, and plunged myself into the water. It was deeper than I had anticipated; my entire body sank beneath the surface. Unlike the Nile a few days earlier, I could not see much more than a forearm’s span through the briny murk.

What I did make out was the shrill sound of a child’s scream. I breast-stroked through the pool to the source of the outcry, where the most gigantic crocodile I had ever seen clutched Nebet within its jaws. I threw my arms onto its neck and squeezed, pushing myself against the monster’s tremendous weight.

Another crocodile clamped onto the fringe of my loincloth. I hammered my sandal’s heel into the hinge of its jaw while still shoving myself against the first one. The second crocodile withdrew, a rip of linen in its mouth. Thus freed, I wrapped my legs around the first crocodile’s waist and turned it over onto its back. Flung out of its mouth, Nebet squealed with terror. I swam for her, but another crocodile blocked my way. The other two closed from behind, jaws agape with the stink of rotten flesh wafting out. Grabbing onto the third crocodile’s flank, I leapfrogged over it to Nebet.

A fourth crocodile seized her foot. After punching it in the eye, I inserted my fingers between its front teeth and pulled onto its jaws. I could only pry them open enough to release my niece’s foot before the beast shoved me back with a thrust of its snout. My back smashed against yet another monster’s jagged hide.

The crocodiles had surrounded and locked us in a tight circle of scaled flesh and snapping jaws. Nebet and I had no way to get around them.

We could only go one way. Down.  

I hugged Nebet close to me and told her to take a deep breath. Together, we dove straight down into the pool’s salty muck, beneath the crocodiles’ pale bellies. Some of their brethren had already submerged and given chase, their jaws chomping mere inches from our toes.

One of the reptiles slapped us into a column of rock with its tail as it came out in front. It spun around and zoomed in, jaws agape, the cavernous black hole of its gullet wide open before us. As it approached, our lungs were drained of air.

I sank myself beneath the crocodile and shot my fist up into its chin.

We hurried to the surface, gulped in more air, and held onto the stony pillar’s summit, still gasping. The rest of the crocodiles slashed through the water after us as Nebet pointed to one of the eucalyptus trees standing on the reedy bank. “Can’t we climb those, Aunt Takhi?”

I nodded with relief. “Good thinking, little baboon!”

I kicked off from the rock to the pool’s edge, crawled up from the mud and wrapped myself around the nearest tree. Holding Nebet on my back, I clambered up the trunk, ignoring the way its shedding bark poked at my skin.

The tree shook. The crocodiles had gathered by its roots and were beating their heads against its trunk like woodcutters’ hatchets. One of them sprang up and tore my sandal off, forcing me to slip halfway back down. Right beneath my belly, the bole began to split.

The crocodiles kept leaping after us, their weight further knocking onto the tree with every fall. The instant the eucalyptus broke asunder at the waist, we jumped — and landed outside the pool.

The two guards stood over us, the tips of their spears hovering.

“Very impressive performance, I must say,” Akhenaten said. “I should’ve known not to have those trees planted there.”

I coughed out a puddle of salty mud. “At least you made those saltwater crocodiles feel more at home, I presume.”

Rameses drew out his sword, his face dark with a reddish tint of rage. “Since you eluded our crocodiles, you and your little brat will have to go the old-fashioned way!”

He chopped down. I rolled out of the blade’s way, hopped onto my feet, and yanked the spear out of one of the guards’ hands. With its shaft, I whacked Rameses’s ribcage and sent him tumbling into the crocodile pool. This time, I felt no impulse whatsoever to save him while the reptiles ganged up and bit him into pieces. The clamor of rent flesh and cracking bone became triumphant music to my ears.

Akhenaten pointed his flail at me. “Don’t think you can escape this time, my cunning leopard. Get her!”

 The two guards charged, one with his spear as the other pulled out his dagger sidearm. I used the guard’s spear to pole-vault away, and then chucked it into its former owner’s face. The second guard threw his spear at me, but I escaped with a sidestep and retrieved it, too.

The surviving guard snarled. “You think you’re so clever, girl? Two can play that game!”

He threw his dagger at me. I raised the spear to parry it, but it split in two when the blade hit. As he pulled the other spear out from his fallen comrade’s skull, I sprinted and pounced towards him. The guard swatted me away in mid-arc, and I tumbled over the fence into another enclosure.

It was another forested pen, but it was not chimpanzees that awaited me inside. Instead, there dashed a stocky cat bigger than any lion I had seen, but without a mane. The black stripes running up and down its deep orange coat blended into the shadows cast by the trees and tall grass. It bared its fangs, its roar harsher and more spine-rattling than anything I had ever heard from a lion.

Nefertiti taunted me from outside the enclosure. She held a squirming Nebet in her arms, a hand pressed over the child’s mouth. “They call that a tiger over in the distant east. While he’s giving you trouble, I’m sure the chimpanzees will adore your feisty little niece as much as I do!”

I shouted my nastiest curse at her and lunged in her direction. The tiger’s claws cut across my back, and I stumbled onto my knees. The cat crouched down behind me, twitching its tail like a housecat about to pounce again. I wheeled around and waved my spear’s severed head in front of my face as a warning to the predator. It launched itself at me, but I somersaulted underneath it and stabbed it in the hip. Under my breath, I begged Sekhmet’s forgiveness for wounding one of her feline children.

I grabbed the branch of a fig tree and swung out of the tiger pen, landing on the remaining guard and knocking him out with a bang of my elbow.

Nefertiti had already reached the chimpanzees and was stretching her arms over the fencing with Nebet in hand. After hollering the battle roar of Sekhmet, I raced over and threw my weight onto her. I hooked an arm around the Queen’s neck, snatched her crown off her head, and tossed it into the enclosure.

One of the chimpanzees, who had been banging rocks together, picked up the blue crown to examine it. The ape hit it with one of the stones, denting the metal, and shook its head in seeming disappointment. Its face lit up again with a smile as it placed the crown top-first on the ground and sat on the lid like it was a stool. Nebet chuckled with girlish delight the same moment the whiff of feces hit my nostrils.

Nefertiti growled with disgust. “That is one vile child you have there, Takhaet!”

I smirked at her, still holding her neck in my arm. “You’re one to talk about others being vile, my Queen.”

Ay and Akhenaten stormed towards me, the Pharaoh brandishing his crook and flail like twin war clubs. “You know I have plenty more guards where those two came, commoner,” Akhenaten said.

I applied more pressure to Nefertiti’s throat. “Let’s see if they can get here before I choke the life out of this bitch you call your Queen!”

The Pharaoh’s eyes widened with horror. “Stop! What do you want?”

“Simple. Pardon my niece and I right now, and the Queen lives. Got it?”

“Fine. I shall clear both of your sentences…on one additional condition. You and your niece must leave Egypt forever. If we catch you returning thereafter, I’ll have you both thrown to the crocodiles. And by then, I’ll have all the trees in that pen cut down. You understand?”

I relaxed my grip on Nefertiti, to carry out my end of the deal. And something else. All my life, I had fought on behalf of my country and its beliefs, even if it meant defying the false Pharaoh once he had taken power. And, as a child of Egypt, were I to die without a proper burial away from its shores, I would never reunite with my ancestors in the afterlife. Instead, I would face an eternity of oblivion.

Even worse, my little Nebet would experience the same.

Nebet knelt before the Pharaoh and whimpered. “No, you can’t make us leave. Egypt has always been our home!” she pleased.

Akhenaten shook his head and pressed the top of his crook onto the girl’s head. “I am Pharaoh, he who commands all of Upper and Lower Egypt. I have already granted you and your aunt the permission to live. Consider your citizenship the price.”

Ay smiled with fiendish glee. “And why not? You didn’t think we would surrender everything to you with such ease, did you?”

As much as I wanted to jump onto the old jackal and hammer out what remained of his pathetic life, I knew he was right. Akhenaten had a whole force of guards he could summon within one pulse of my heart, not to mention his regular army. I could evade and fight back as much as I wanted, but I could never defeat him alone. Not while keeping my niece out of harm’s way.

I knelt in front of the false Pharaoh, drooping my head with a defeated sigh. “I accept your sentence, Your Majesty.”

Akhenaten nodded with a victorious grin. “Excellent. I’ll give you a month to pack up your belongings and then see you at the border, wherever you choose to go. May Aten bless you with good fortune the rest of your life.”

“And may he watch over your child as well,” Nefertiti added.

I dipped my head to them. “I will pray every day that he will, O Pharaoh and Queen.”

I lied. I had no intention of even muttering his false demon’s name again. If there was one thing I would never concede to Akhenaten, it was my faith in the gods of our ancestors.

Nebet ran up to bury her glistening tear-washed face into me. “You can’t do this, Aunt Takhi. We can’t leave home forever.”

I lifted her up in my embrace and stroked her hair. “I’m afraid we have no choice, my little baboon. But it may not be all that bad. If nothing else, we’ll spend the rest of our lives seeing the world together.”

I knew not where we would go. We might venture up the Nile south of the Kushite provinces, into the savannas and jungles and the many kingdoms therein. Or we might sail for the east, visiting the ziggurats of Babylonia, the temples and sacred wells of the Indus Valley, or the burgeoning cities of distant China. We might even head north to the rocky isles of the Greeks and Minoans, or even further into the snowy forests where tribes of red- and yellow-maned, white-skinned men prowled.

All I knew was that we could not remain in Egypt any longer. And that, wherever we did go, Nebet and I would always have each other.

As I walked away from the menagerie, heading for the city’s docks, I gave my niece a wink and a whisper. “It may not all be lost. Maybe we could, say, persuade someone abroad to take Egypt back for us. What say you, my little baboon?”

[jpstandsforjustpatches]

😬 - I will write my muse in an uncomfortable situation/facing their fears.

Patches traveled a lot. Everywhere she went, she tended to gain notoriety as a local cryptid and boogeyman, and that was just how she liked it. Sometimes she’d make a repeat appearance in a place, just to remind them that she’s still around and they can never, ever let their guard down.

Her reputation spread like wildfire in modern times, with cameras in everyone’s pockets and a direct link to the world wide web, it was easier than ever to become a creepypasta. Hell, sometimes if she was menacing someone, she’d steal their own phone to snap a selfie. Far too many people had woken up to find a photo of her with claws inches from their sleeping forms awaiting on their phones. 

People feared her, but just as many people thought it was all some joke. Those were her favorite, she loved to prove them wrong. It was too bad they rarely lived to tell the tale, but then again, she couldn’t prove them wrong if she let them off easy now, could she? Whatever they said about her on the internet was fine by her. Sure, sometimes the rumor mill got it wrong, but sometimes that only gave her new ideas. New lows to sink to. She just couldn’t let her fans down.

But even for something as despicable and rancid as her, sometimes, once in a blue moon, she’d run into the opposite problem. Today was one of those rare days.

Walking down the sunny street she leered at anyone unfortunate enough to share the space with her. Most averted their eyes, hurried their families along, whether they knew her or not, it was clear she was bad news. Who walks around in a clown suit in the middle of August? Halloween was months away!

A sudden gentle tug on her tail stopped the clown in her tracks. Her neck twisted around backwards with an audible cracking to face the source of the offense. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this small child staring up at her with hopeful eyes.

“What.” She always hated children. There was no fun in trying to scare them, because they were already scared of everything. They weren’t even a good snack because they were so small. All they were good for was running them off so they could grow up into an adult sized snack. She preferred to cut things off at thirteen, kids were old enough to be real assholes by then and if one happened to cross her path, then so be it.

The child, who couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old, flinched at the harshness of her voice, “I’m uh... I.. I need your help.”

Her help? Patches laughed, out loud. What kind of person in their right mind would ask her for help, “Don’t be stupid. Haven’t your parents told you not to talk to strangers? Go. Home.” It was a rare piece of genuine advice, coming from her.

The girl shook her head, “You’re not a stranger. I know who you are. You’re the monster everyone’s afraid of.. And.... I can’t get home right now.” She looked behind her, fearfully, but didn’t seem to spot anything yet.

Patches’ grin faded into something more judgmental. If this kid knew who she was, then that was all the more reason to stay far, far away from her. Had the local rumors shifted just because she wasn’t killing kids? Her claws twitched as she considered changing that, but curiosity was getting the better of her, “And just why would that be?”

Before the child could answer herself, a clamoring of shouting and whooping approached from around the corner. She immediately hid behind Patches, clinging tight around her waist and burying her face. A couple boys, a few years older than the girl rounded the bend. “Hey four-eyes, you dropped your glasses!” One of them sneered as he waved the crushed frames tauntingly. The other jeered along with him, unbothered by the sight of the clown, if anything he was spurred onward by Patches’ presence, “Aw look, she thinks that dumbshit bozo is gonna protect her!”

Patches was no stranger to the jeering name-calling flung her way. No, that was par for the course. What was throwing her off her game was the child hugging her tight for safety. The contact made her uncomfortable and she wanted it to Stop. She grimaced and placed a hand on the girl’s head to push her back and break the hug. The push sent the girl stumbling back and she fell to the ground, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Patches stared down at her coldly, but there was some rising feeling she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t like that either and didn’t care to reflect on it. Hm. There were small cuts and bruises on the girl’s face and arms, she didn’t do that.

The boys excited shouting had only grown louder as they saw Patches seemingly side with them in their bullying. Emboldened, they ran forward, ready to throw more rocks and hurtful words. They were going to call her stupid for thinking some monster would protect her. They didn’t get the chance.

The taller one, the leader of the two, met her claws first. They clamped around his head with crushing force, a spray of blood and gore splattered her black and white wardrobe. The shouting instantly turned to screaming as the other boy tried to turn and run. He wouldn’t get more than a few feet before her long limbed strides caught up to him. A heavy hand braced his shoulder and yanked him back into awaiting jaws. At least it was quick, for both of them. The screaming was quickly silenced.

Patches had intended to sit and take her meal right there on the sidewalk, but even after brutally murdering two teenagers in broad daylight, she couldn’t catch a break. The girl, incredibly shaken by what she just witnessed, but perhaps not shaken enough, approached the clown once more, “I knew you weren’t evil...”

That statement nearly put Patches off her lunch entirely. She turned to level the child with a stare as blood and gore oozed from between her fangs, she made a point to look as awful and Bad as possible in the process, “Go. Home.”

The girl handled this scare just as readily as the others and approached the crouching Patches one last time. This time she flung her arms around her neck, despite the clown recoiling, “Thank you!”

At least this hug was shorter and the girl turned to collect her broken glasses and run off, waving back at Patches and looking far too content about everything  that just happened. Patches on the other hand looked disgusted, offended, and could not believe what had just happened. None of that had gone correctly and now she had lost her appetite. Disgusting. She growled and hauled the two corpses up under her arms to slink off into the nearest woods where she could be sure she wouldn’t run into any more young fans.

Kids these days...

[realactualfancontent]

Wilbur Whateley Goes Shopping Part 2.

While he’s still in London Wilbur goes Solstice shopping.

Wilbur Whateley did not belong here. Slinking through an overcrowded department store where even his unusual stature and the stench that clung to him weren't enough to keep him safe from being jostled by over zealous holiday shoppers. He jumped every time, fussing to see that none of his wardrobe had been disrupted. Looking around over the crowds heads to see if there was any quiet spot he could try to observe from. Figure out where he was going. What exactly he was here for. It was as if the whole city had been funnelled in here. How was no one else overwhelmed? How was no one else overwhelmed by the sheer quantity. Someone jostled him especially hard and Wilbur hurled a few choice words in their direction loud enough that the immediate crowd paused a moment to stare before getting back on with their errands. The offending party scurried away without so much as an apology. Though the look of terror on their face served as one. Even if he felt a little embarrassed now. He just, didn't do well around people. Not that it mattered, they'd all be gone soon. He could only hope that there were less old ones, or that they had a better grasp on personal space. But he was determined to make this trip worth something. After that disaster at the book store he wanted to come back with something. And Dunwich's single general store was beyond limited when it came to luxury goods. So here he was, scraggly, unkempt and absolutely freezing in place when anyone so much as brushed against him. Eventually, after what seemed like eons he made it to a counter and stared down a perfectly quaffed and dressed shop attendant. Who looked up at him with wide frightened eyes. “Can I help you?” She asked timidly. He gulped, fighting down a sudden wave of embaressment at the garbled excuse for English that was about to come out of his mouth.

“Yeah-yes.”

She looked like she'd rather do anything but, she looked like she wanted to call security. Wilbur soldiered on trying to downplay his accent. “I'm shoppin' fer my ma.”

That made her relax a little. As if anyone buying Christmas gifts for their mother couldn't be entirely terrible. She was wrong of course.

“An' my younger brother.” He added hastily, seeing as laying on the sentiments seemed like a good plan.

Humans and their sentiment.

Not that he was much better. He just acknowledged it was stupid.

“Oh, well then, what sort of gifts are you looking for?” She asked brightly, giving him an appraising once over, now that the initial fear seemed to have worn off he could tell she was trying to size up how much he could spend.

“'Spensive ones.” Wilbur answered, there was something distinctly unpleasant in the smile that accompanied that. 

He couldn't help it. There was something distinctly unpleasant in most of his expressions. But he did love the rare chance to wave his money in people's faces. The look of scepticism and shock on her face was priceless. The absolute disbelief when he pulled out a wallet from the tenebrous pockets of his shapeless coat and discreetly opened it to flash the woman it's contents was almost worth the trip. “I see,” she said looking between the over stuffed wallet and Wilbur's ungroomed face, managing to set aside any misgivings he gave her and settle back into her blandly polite default mode. “I'm afraid you'll have to be slightly more specific, as we do carry a wide range of luxury items, any of which would make lovely gifts.” Wilbur rolled his eyes in response, and let out a deep sigh, so irritable you'd think someone had asked him to set his foot on fire. “Dunno, what dew women like?” It was a genuine question. What the fuck did he get for Lavinia? Clothes? Jewellery? Not shoes that was for damn sure. “Oh, well, if you'd like I can show you around the accessories section and point out some of our more popular items?” “Yeah, that'd be good.” “Alright, follow me then.” She slipped out from behind the counter and led Wilbur around the shop. He was grateful for the assistance, even if he didn't fancy following someone around like a lost dog it was better than milling around poking things aimlessly. He ended up with an armful of things. Perfume (which didn't smell all that good to him, but he was assured it was lovely, and much subtler once it settled on to the skin.), A hat with a bunch of flowers (Lavinia liked flowers, he wasn't to sure about hats.) And an armful of assorted fripperies and frills all floaty and lacy. Grossly impractical, he hadn't the faintest idea when she'd every get the chance to wear things like this. But he'd seen her ogling similar things in a magazine once or twice, and she was very fond of some of the gauzier curtains in the house. Even if they all had moth holes. “Do you think that's enough?” His shop attendant asked looking up, craning her neck to see over the stack of gifts. “Uh, think so, one 'er two more things. I we-was thinkin' I might get her sum 've those tinted glasses...An' a sewin' machine. One 've the treadle 'uns.” In truth the sewing machine was for Wilbur, who's continued growth spurts meant he was spending an enormous time trying to stitch together his own clothes. Hopefully this would speed things along. “Oh I know where both of those are, just follow me.” Wilbur did, staggering after her, carrying his precarious load. “Would you like us to gift wrap those for you?” Wilbur had to peer down and around to see her. “Yeah, that'd be...good.” “Okay, I think, just put them down here.” Wilbur did, dropping the whole stack on the table. Trying to pick up the sewing machine had been a mistake. People always assumed that his size came with strength to match, but after only a few moments his arms felt like jelly. “And you said you're also shopping for your brother?” His assistant was currently wrapping a hat box in a garishly bright paper covered in pictures of stockings and cats. Tying ribbon into bows it seemed almost a crime to tear it apart later. Wilbur had an overwhelming feeling He'd be seeing the same piece of wrapping paper for the rest of his natural life, trundled out at every birthday and solstice until it disintegrated or his pa's friends destroyed the world. "Ah, yeah...he's lookin fe-for a..." Wilbur trialled off here knowing exactly what he needed to say but not quite able to get the word out. "Dog." He finally spat. His volume dropping to barely above a whisper, as if mentioning the word might summon ten. She looked up at him puzzled. "Sir, we're not a pet sho-"

"I know that." He snapped back. "He can't have a real 'un." There was a note of actual panic in that last sentence, his assistant flinched at the sudden snapping. Pausing mid ribbon bow, she was about to apologize for speaking out of turn but Wilbur continued. "I'm allergic, is the thing. So I thought I'd get 'im one of those toy one's, yew know, with the leash an' the wheels. Just, needs t' be a real big one." She nodded at the explanation.

"Well I'm certain we have something close in the toy department. It's just upstairs. You can pick up your packages when you're done."

As much as he hadn't been particularly offensive as a customer she really was glad to be rid of him. She couldn’t place what about those goatish features made her so uncomfortable, but something definitely did.  She very quickly turned her attention back to the shawl she was packing to avoid studying them further.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Wilbur said. Excusing himself to trundle upstairs. He got lost on the way of course. Anyone who's spent signifiant time in a department store can understand exactly how easy that is, although in retrospect Wilbur could have followed the cacodaemoniacal shrieks of small children and found it quickly enough.

Something small and fast blundered into his legs he jumped, it let out a high-pitched shriek of terror when it looked up to see who it had collided with. Wilbur was sneering down at the kid. Some other parents pulled their children closer to them.

Typical.

Some other brat blew a raspberry at him. In Dunwich at least people knew to give him a wide berth. That trying that sort of thing was a good way to get your crops blighted. He ignored them to instead move as quick as he could to the desk. Calling the clerk's attention with startling ease despite the crowd. Being over a foot taller than the masses had some advantages. At least here he had some clear goal. It made everything so much easier. Knowing what you were here for. "...Just bring me the biggest 'un yew've got." He finished explaining to the desk clerk, before she scurried off. Leaving Wilbur to mill about and wait, unable to help himself from pulling a face or two at the small children who tried the same with him. Or chuckling when one of them started crying. A thoroughly inhuman noise which drew even more strange looks. That brief good mood vanished when he saw the plush Great Dane. "Is this big enough?" Wilbur nodded suddenly sheepish. "It'll dew." He picked it up under one arm, glad it was lighter than the sewing machine, still awkward though. He ended up buying a wagon too. Something to haul the rest around in. And then he was done.

Well, technically there was one thing left on the gift list. But that wasn't found in any department store. He toyed with buying a wedding gift for Pickman as he loaded up the rest of his stuff. But decided against it. They weren't friends. And if he had to spend another minute in this crowded hell scape he might scream. So, with a gigantic plush dog under one arm, and a wagon loaded with prettily wrapped parcels, Wilbur Whateley headed out, to the graveyard, and after that, finally, back to Dunwich.

[ancientbrit]

Natter #3 24th June 2020

So, on  Saturday morning, I took part of my breakfast (yogurt) from our backup  fridge in the garage, but when I put the first spoonful in my mouth I noticed that it was warm. Strange that. So I checked the fridge and found that everything in it was warm. The freezer contents - weren't.This was a disaster as I had been to QFC a couple of days previously buying frozen and fresh foods including four half gallons of milk. Jean had been out the day after for the first time in 12 weeks and part of her haul was more milk and ice cream.I imagine that the excitement of being out again at last and back to her old stamping grounds overcame memory. So here we were rushing around trying to save what we could by rearranging everything in the kitchen fridge and then trying to close the door.The old fridge was possibly down on refrigerant and I was a bit annoyed for a brief moment until I remembered when we bought it. It was when we lived at the 'old house' way back in 1970 and it was already a year old when we got it! My word - 50 years old. I should have remembered as it's color is 'Harvest Gold' which hasn't been seen on store shelves in donkeys ages. I tend not to date things by color though, as modern colors mean little to me - 'Taupe' for instance means less than nothing. My lexicon runs in terms of the spectrum. But forgetting it's date made me think back to those 'Old House days' and what we were about then. Those days and other old days that preceded that time.  My memory of 'then' is perfectly clear  - it seems just like it was yesterday even though I know how long ago it actually was. So many friends and relatives who are no longer around to share those times with, One of the things that have remained constant is our phone number. Of course, then we had an exchange name -  Adams 2, which has now been transmuted to numbers - 232, and I think doing this has lost the feeling of romance that it seemed to have for me. When I was a kid many of our dairy and grocery items were delivered to the door by horse-drawn carts - very few people or businesses had a sufficiently high priority during the war to have a petrol ration. Mum had joined the "Co-op" for convenience and of course, there was the benefit of a bonus payout at year's end. I loved these horses and would meet them outside and feed them apples, carrots and whatever else I had to hand. Still firmly in my mind is the Co-op number I had to recite to the driver when we had milk or groceries delivered - 157376.Being horses they would leave proof of their passage along the road and my Dad would pay me a shilling per bucket full of 'Golden Apples' as my Dad referred to this natural function It seemed like it was too demeaning a job for a full-grown adult  and using his term was sort of distancing himself from the unpleasantness.It used to embarrass me a bit too, but you couldn't argue with the reward. it was all grist to the mill, and it did do the roses a power of good. In 1956, I had been out of the RAF for a year and had also just recently returned home from a  very long sojourn in hospital, and my Dad was persuaded, against his will, to have a phone installed. Phones were not then usual to find in most houses and my Dad's reluctance was based on the very real belief that his company could too easily find him at inconvenient times. I told him that it was an absolute necessity in that day and age and so at last it was installed. Our phone number was Fairlands 4725 and as I said, I remember the old exchanges with affection. Others in our neighborhood were Derwent and Vigilant and my favorite Aunt had the best I always felt - Silverthorn - lovely. The Fairlands exchange was essential to me as when I was discharged from the hospital I had left behind a lovely German nurse with whom I had developed special feelings.When I had become sufficiently fit to allow me to leave the hospital and walk around the grounds, I used to collect any outgoing mail from other patients who were still confined to bed and take it some distance up the road, through the snow to a mailbox. Just to make sure I would be okay, Irmgard, for such was her name, would accompany me and we would find a need to indulge in long hugs and exchange lip locks - just to keep the cold at bay you understand? Shared bodily warmth is a great way to defeat the weather! Later, returning to the hospital, which had been a big old private house standing in its own grounds, we would split up at the circular drive with a last goodnight kiss. Irmgard would go round to the kitchen door and I would go the other way to the front door. Knowing that our companion runs were our secret, I was surprised to find the youngish Matron just inside the door. With a twinkle in her eye, she asked if it was cold out and I acknowledged that it was. She told me that I should be careful that I didn't get chapped lips, but then added that lipstick was a sovereign remedy - and departed with a grin. So much for secrecy! Irmgard's phone exchange name at the hospital was Coombe Wood - not exactly what might be termed 'romantic' but association made it so. Our association was quite intense and a forthcoming proposal, whilst welcomed, was at that time impossible for Irmgard to accept. Her sister was soon to marry, another Englishman and they would be returning to England to live after their honeymoon. She would not leave her parents alone just like that. She had been sent to England for a couple of years to improve her English and was soon to return home to Bad Canstatt, just outside Stuttgart. As I was about to return to my studies we were parted and unlikely to meet again any time soon. So our contacts were limited to letters and very rare and expensive phone calls and so the Canstatt exchange also lives brightly in my memory. Unfortunately, long-distance relations tend to strain circumstances and over time our contacts became less and less,     Sometime later I reached a point where I was able to take a trip to the Continent. I wrote to Irmgard to tell her that at last I was able to come over to see her, not being really sure of my reception as I hadn't written for ages.Within days I had a reply and although she was totally delighted that I was coming she told me that she had become engaged. I couldn't really blame her as I had been very lax, but she wanted me to come and meet her family when I arrived. She was really very good and took me all over the city and ended at her parents' home in the evening to a party for her sister and new husband, just returned from their honeymoon on Lake Constance. It was a really nice evening and I got on very well with her parents, but of course, I didn't like her fiance at all! After all this, although I had been given her brother-in-law's name and address back home I was never able to contact him. I would love to have kept up to know how her life proceeded. I still have her framed portrait photograph she sent me when she had first returned home, inscribed "Zur stehten Erinnerung" Deine Irmgard. I have been occupying some of my evenings on the computer lately sorting and printing out the Natters that Jo & Tom and Janet have been good enough to get to me. As they all seem to have been listed well out of order I am busy trying to see what I have and what might yet still be missing. The job has been compounded by the difficulty I have experienced in opening the Flash Drive. Sometimes it allows me to zip along, opening files, but then will stop and nothing will work. Next day I try again and I am off to the races again. But I am getting there slowly and tonight (Monday) I completed taking off hardcopies, Now I can sort through, putting them in chronological order and see what I shall see. Much more later, but there seems to be nothing before 2012 so I guess that was when I started. As I mentioned last Natter I have been attacking Lily of the Valley and I am almost finished - at least with what was visible. Along the way, I have also removed Sword ferns, Cedar seedlings five feet high and Jasmine. The Jasmine was an insignificant rooted cutting, from where I have no recollection. It had been placed in a pot on the ground and had been overgrown by all sorts of stuff and over the last year had gone nuts. It was to be used at the Plant Sale and now there are five separate plants threatening to strangle you on the approach to the greenhouse so of course, they have to go. The final gap in my deer-proof fencing was completed a week ago but I forgot to mention it to the deer and my hostas have now been browsed off on three separate occasions. As soon as it looks like there might be leaves on Empress Wu that might be reaching terminal size, they disappear and I am beginning to think that I will have to curtail totally growing the items they obviously consider their personal snack bar. 'Doesn't really leave much selection but at least, so far, my cardiocrinums don't feature on their menu. 'Have to be grateful for small mercies I suppose. One good thing has come out of this. My neighbor (ex MG Jill) who has allowed me to use three raised beds to grow veg, has been getting worried that I might fall from the area where the raised beds live - on a raised part of the garden with a six-foot-high rock wall as it's western boundary. She sees me stepping back to admire my work and then bailing out over the edge. So she is having a large bed prepared at the bottom of the wall, which will be enclosed by a deer-proof cage. It will also benefit from the heat held by the rock wall - all sorts of interesting possibilities there. She is a good friend. So next year we might actually be able to eat something we have grown. 'Haven't been able to do that for the last four years now, except for Onions and Garlic! Got started on removing existing plants today and I think it was the hardest day's work I have done for ages.I had to have a nap in the afternoon, but I couldn't tell whether that was because I had two early start days or the sheer grind of lifting heavy plants.You have likely realised that I am just stumbling along here so I will finish and get to bed.

Your fearless and weary leader.Gordon

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guildwars Love Story

Chapter 4

Amalthia adjusted the acetylene/oxygen regulator of her welding torch as she attempted to fuse the final piece of her rifle scope together.  All of the components fit together perfectly except for the rear sighting post that stubbornly refused to seat properly. 

"Just about... there!"  

With the final spool of flux, she managed to solder together the last piece of her custom made handiwork.  But just as she was about to shut down her workstation, she heard some rustling downstairs followed by a couple of guttural voices.  

"Amalthia. Come down here now!"  Her father called from downstairs. Once she had shut down her welding station, her nostrils immediately picked up the strong stench of rotting flesh.  

Crap! I forgot to take out the refuse barrels last night.  They're probably all maggoty by now.

She opened the window to her upstairs room hoping the fresh air would dissipate the scent.  The room was already hot and stuffy due to her metallurgical hobby.  

If only this place had an actual work shed, she pondered as she slipped on a pair of grungy open-toed boots that somewhat accommodated her clawed digitigrade feet.

"Did you forget to take out the rubbish barrels, again? The entire cutting room smells like a mortuary."  Her father's voice carried to her upstairs room in his characteristic bellowing tone.  

Padding down the spiral staircase, she looked across the living den and noticed the presence of another individual who happened to be a charr like her. 

"Silly me. When I looked down I honestly thought the smell was coming from that woman other there.  Oh.  Hi mother.  I thought I recognized your odor," Amalthia said while glaring at the female charr that was standing near the service counter.  

Siri Blastfuse turned towards her smart-mouthed daughter giving only a slightly raised eyebrow as her slitted green eyes narrowed with contempt.  "So the little cub deigns to disrespectfully greet her generous mother in spite of having a serious hangover.  I am delighted that you had enough initiative within you to even make it out of bed, runt."

Amalthia rolled her eyes, pursed her lips then nodded with a half-cocked smile.  "Well, I just had to verify where such a foul odor was coming from.  At first I thought it was from the overripe meat in the cutting room, but then I saw your face and now I'm not so sure."

Ludrick growled with anger.  "That's enough out of you both.  Amalthia - your dam came here to let you know that she's been actively searching for warbands who may be willing to take you under their wing.  Siri - give her the details... not the snark."

"Amalthia.  My only surviving lush and shriveled-runt-of-a-lame-sire - I have some news that I thought might bring a ray of sunshine into your otherwise shameful existence," Siri said mockingly.  

"I heard the legions have set up an all-volunteer regiment of suicide bombers.  Were you the first to raise your paw when the call of duty was issued?"  Her daughter replied with a smirk. 

"That would make you too happy, now wouldn't it?  No runt.  I'm offering you a chance to make something of yourself.  I've taken valuable time out of my busy schedule to search out a warband who might be interested in taking your sorry, alcohol-laden carcass into their ranks."

"You are so sweet, mother.  You would almost have me believe that actual blood pumps through that heart of yours, instead of ice.   Tell me there's not a catch behind all of this."  Amalthia looked at her mother skeptically. 

Her mother cocked her head slightly. "No catch.  I'm just sick of hearing it through the rumor mill as to what a pathetic loser you turned out to be.  Your current miserable state is bad for your sire's reputation as well as my own."

"Do you mean to tell me that you actually care for someone else other than just yourself?  Father - she just may a spark of light in that otherwise inky black heart of hers," came Amalthia's sarcastic retort.

"If the two of you cannot speak to each other like civil adult charr then perhaps one of you should just leave.  Either way, Siri came to say what she needed and that's all fine by me." Ludrick s hobbled on his cane towards the dining room chair in the hopes that sitting for a bit would help take the pressure off his already throbbing foot. 

"Fine. I will haul those maggoty barrels to the back.  Just so long as I can put as much distance between me and that woman..." Amalthia huffed.

"This place reeks of piss, rotten carcasses and cow shit.  Come to think of it, I actually kind of regret pawning her off on you, Ludrick.  Had I known she would have turned out to be this sarcastic, drunk and lazy, I would have..."

"ENOUGH!"  The old charr's raged climaxed.  He then fixed his gaze upon his daughter then pointed towards the staircase leading to the basement butchery. Amalthia gave her parting snark before disappearing down the staircase.  "Very well, then.  I will have this place smelling like a basket of freshly cut roses in no time flat.  In the mean time, would you like me to scoop out a mound of fresh wiggly maggots for your take-out lunch, mother?  Word has it they really aid in digestion." 

Siri looked her former mate, crossed her beige clouded leopard spotted arms then shook her head.  "Where does that scrawny little sack of fur and bones get that mouth of hers from?  If it were up to me, I would have ripped the cub's tongue from her throat a long time ago. Why you allow her get away with so much is beyond my comprehension."

Ludrick pointed directly into her face.  "Look into any mirror and you'll find your answer, Siri.  She's the only lineage I have left. All of the other cubs I fathered are dead."

"Oh yes.  How could I forget?  You sired," Siri said as she began to count on her long, clawed hand, "just two litters?  Why didn't you continue to knock up more kittens after our relationship?  Were your loins just not up to the task or did something vital get lopped off?"

"Reasons, Siri.  Reasons..." Ludrick lowered his head choosing to ignore her personal insults.

Siri looked him squarely into his eyes.  "Look.  I honestly don't care if that runt lives or dies, so long as her actions do not in any way sully my reputation."

"There was a time when you did care for our cubs; including Amalthia and her twin sister even though she died shortly after birth."

"My capacity for caring died along with our other three.  You are too softhearted, Ludrick.  And that softness is going to eventually be the doom of our people.  You do know that, right?"

Ludrick looked at her then shook his head.  "No Siri. Compassion is not weakness; it's a strength."

"What in the hell have you been sipping on, you old fool?  You've obviously been hanging around humans too long.  Now you're sounding sappy as well as sentimental."

"Open that poisoned tongue of yours once more and I'll show you just how much of a charr I still am.  Now get out of my house, now! Otherwise I just might crack that skull of yours wide open with this cane!" Ludrick roared as he held his wooden crutch aloft.

"Ohh.  Now that's the big, old hairy beast I used to know and adore.  Keep talkin' like that and you and I may end up getting frisky and pop out a new litter together... just for old times sake of course, " Siri said with a devious grin as she slowly strode towards the front door.  

"Out.  NOW!" Ludrick's voice thundered with rage.

Within the span of fifteen minutes, Amalthia emerged from downstairs. 

"I assume that evil woman has left the building.  The air already smells less foul," she said while glancing around the dining area.

"She's gone... at least for the time being. Amalthia - I wish things were... oh, never mind."

"Oh my.  The effects of inebriation are beginning to wear off.  Talking like a teary-eyed human is a sure sign of this condition," Amalthia quipped. 

"Bah!  Please tell me you didn't finish that last liter of mead when you went downstairs."

"I would never be that cruel to you, sire.  There's just enough for each of us to have one pint.  I kept it in reserve for situations just such as this."

Amalthia helped her father down the flight of stairs as he hobbled trying to avoid putting undue pressure on his right foot.  Once they were in the cutting room, father and daughter split the remaining contents of the liter between them.

"Yanno.  I don't think there's a charr on the surface of Tyria who can match wits with my Amalthia," Ludrick said as he offered a toast. 

"To a life of loose lips and brooding loneliness."

In spite of her inebriated state, Amalthia raised her stein then clashed it against his partially empty mug. 

"I'll certainly drink to the first part, father."

[bisexecutioner]

collateral;

What wasn’t visible to the Admiral’s eye was the history that simmered between the two spirits at the docks. It felt like years ago that Lee had made her acquaintance, when she’d sprouted up in the ranks of the Ashvane like a weed. She commanded attention for her beauty, naturally, but moreso in her ruthlessness. She was utilized far more than the brutes of men that the Company employed to pummel down those who couldn’t deliver; no, her methods were much crueler, worming into their ribcage and striking at the heart. When she left, she’d bring with her their possessions, both material and otherwise. Her vexation was so famous, it was the first conclusion one would point to, upon seeing men wandering the port streets without aim.

Despite this, there was no wondering as to how she had earned Lee’s affections. She enthralled him, if only for the fact that he knew she could dismantle him easily — yet she didn’t. She let him be. She let him know her, at least what she bothered to show. He was powerless to deny the pleasure he received from being the envy of other men and women, simply by being in her company. 

It had never been affirmed verbally, but public exposure solidified the conclusion of their partnership. Vic didn’t mind the idea of being his, for he turned cheek when she slept in other beds, and she liked having someone near who listened well, but kept quiet. He was an expert at minding his business. Together, they were able to exist as two separate entities rather than one; such often dealt the killing blow to her relationships, when the other started to blend into her own being, or attempted to suck her into theirs.

They’d been together more than a year by the time she left town. There was not much sadness in the separation — after all, they’d been a loveless coupling. But there was a mutual respect, one that bound them as friends, or at the least, coworkers. His affections had never quite died. If she called for him, he would come. He knew it just as well as she did.

Here they were in Stormwind. With the Azerite trade dwindling, Lee was pressed for cash, which strained his ability to be her errand boy. Fortunately, they were always able to come up with something when they put their heads together.

Victoria passed for her mother’s kin well enough to walk about Orgrimmar freely. It hadn’t taken much poking around the city, including the outside of it, to realize that Alliance ships were leaving the area with more than they’d arrived with.

“Gold?” Lee was initially unconvinced. “How are ye sure?”

“Saw it myself.” Vic hummed, shielding her joint from the winter winds which lashed about their forms. The breeze coming off the water at the Stormwind Harbor was especially chilled. “Must be some agreement, hm? I imagine that the boy king’s men weren’t particularly thrilled about helping the enemy. Peace doesn’t line pockets.”

Lee set his jaw, glancing over to the merchant ship that Vic had pointed out. “Don’ look military.”

“Probably isn’t. That would be too obvious.” She lowered her joint, laying her snake-like gaze upon him, eyes narrowed. “Fifty split, Mainsworth. I would estimate an amount much higher than a few months wages.”

He tilted his head from side to side, bare arms crossing against the wind. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was dressed poorly for the shift in weather. “Wot do you need me fer.”

“Backup.” She responded plainly enough. “A man guards the hold, I’d prefer him out of the way. I haven’t seen any other crew, but there could be. Not to mention that ships around here have guns.”

“Unused, I’d bet.” He’d hum. “They’s all settlin in fer winter. Sittin’ ducks.”

It was then that the Admiral arrived, cutting their conversation short — though, an unspoken arrangement had already been reached. Whilst they headed off, she noticed that Alexa made for the ship in question, though elected not to mention such to her company.

tw: violence 

They waited for nightfall. The first mate milled about the deck, securing sails and hatches, before heading into the cargo bay for the night. Stepping soundlessly aboard, Lee picked the lock with a few well angled flicks of a metal tool, easing the door open with his shoulder. Vic followed behind, a leather hood attached to her long sailing jacket obscuring her face. 

As they crept down the stairs, she allowed Lee to lead the way, notching an arrow into her bow and keeping it aimed down toward the ground. At the foot of the stairs they were able to see the first mate with his back to them, organizing the crates by contents. At the far end of the hold, Vic was able to make out several unmarked boxes, which she easily inferred to be hosting the precious cargo they were after.

Detaching his bat from his belt, Lee slinked forth towards the figure, carefully maneuvering around the stacked crates. When in range, he stood and swung the weapon for the side of the man’s head in a sickening wallop. It was a blow hard enough to make most men crumple to their knees; but the sturdy Westfallen native merely stumbled to the side, grabbing to a stack of crates for support and groaning out in pain.

Vic hissed through her teeth, knowing they had only a few precious moments before he either called out or fought back. She rose her bow before then. Drawing the string back to her cheek, she exhaled a silent breath, then let the arrow fly. It soared between the high stacks of cargo and thunked into place between the man’s shoulderblades. He stumbled a bit further, until the poisoned arrowhead incapacitated him entirely. He fell to the floorboards face first; and a few moments later, heaved his last breaths.

Lee stood back for a moment, eyebrows raised. He’d no intention of being privy to a murder; but realizing that he was, the sailor kicked himself into gear. Rushing to the back of the hold. he removed one of the burlap sacks attached to his belt and handed it off to Vic, who joined him soon enough. Together they cleaned out hefty amounts of gold ore, loaded it into the sacks and onto Lee like a pack mule, then hauled ass out of the hold and off the ship entirely.

Of course, one contingency had not been planned for. From within the galley, the captain’s dog had picked up on their arrival, and was sounding his natural alarm. They had just made it onto the dock when the galley door swung open, releasing the beast out into the open. Vic couldn’t feel indignant, not when protecting it’s home was an admirable instinct — but she certainly didn’t appreciate having a snarling, enraged hound snapping at their heels, testing both the speed and stamina of man and woman alike. The distance had nearly been closed by the time they reached the dinghy they were to make their escape into. Lee jumped into the boat first, followed by Vic; though the beast triumphantly caught the end of her coat tail, ripping off a large square of leather. She scrambled back into the boat, sputtering, “Lee—!” Though he was already on the move, driving the oars into the water and sending them back from the shore, moments before the dog would have jumped in with them.

They sailed south along the beach to Westfall, catching their breaths. Vic leaned her head down into his lap, and eventually began to laugh. A cool, breathy laugh that traveled out into the air, and across the water like ice.

[ @preyontheweak​ ]

[dippedanddripped]

YouTube has always been a hub for an often-voyeuristic form of conspicuous consumption, but for the diehard devotees of influential designers like Raf Simons and Helmut Lang, there's now a veritable abundance of channels dedicated to nuanced discussions of niche men's clothing. Though far from being the most-followed men's fashion accounts, these channels have slowly built sizable audiences by geeking out over a set of hyper-specific references familiar to anyone who's put in time lurking on a particularly heated r/streetwear subthread. Unboxings and shopping hauls still abound, but they're complemented by lengthy commentary on, say, the latest Rick Owens collection or a breathless breakdown of a seminal Margiela show from the '90s.

Like the men behind #menswear, the movement birthed on the blogosphere that peaked in popularity in the early 2010s, these YouTube "creators" are often friends IRL, appearing in each other's videos to compare notes on their latest cops or pal around the local flea market looking for covetable vintage finds. More recently, like some of their #menswear predecessors, many of the creators behind these channels are launching their own clothing brands that mimic the cadence of streetwear drops and sell out almost as quickly. These collections go far beyond branded merchandise: They typically debut in small batches at premium price points and are seamlessly marketed across social media to relatively small but highly devoted followings.

Leveraging the spending power of an existing audience to sell product that's sure to be a hit is a symbiosis the fashion industry is already betting big on. There's Danielle Bernstein of WeWoreWhat's multimillion-dollar design partnerships with Nordstrom and Onia; Aimee Song of Song of Style's collection with Revolve; and Arielle Charnas of Something Navy, who is ending her Nordstrom licensing deal this year to kick off her own lifestyle brand after a $10 million investment, valuing her brand at roughly $45 million. Increasingly, these types of relationships look like the future of the industry. Yet for the most part, retailers have yet to tap into influencers in the menswear space. YouTube represents a new frontier.

In the summer of 2018, Jacob Keller and Cole McBride released the first drop under their Bare Knuckles brand. Keller is a certified YouTube OG: His channel, though now largely inactive, was one of the first to capitalize on the opportunity for menswear-oriented content on the platform, and he's frequently shouted out as a big brother of sorts by other YouTubers. Keller shares an unusually strong connection with his fanbase, many of whom have been interacting with his content since day one. Scroll deep enough through his timeline and you're bound to come across old images of him in full Mishka 'fits, some of which Keller occasionally reposts as a winking nod to his followers.

Bare Knuckles's debut collection featured a medley of washed denims, vintage looking tees and cropped work jackets — an authentic extension of the aesthetic Keller began to hone on YouTube and later made his signature via the 'gram, where he has almost 90K followers. On any given post there's dozens of comments asking where to buy what he's wearing, which today, more often than not, is Bare Knuckles. The collection was a near-instant success, selling out entirely shortly after it released online.

For influencers, profiting off of their online presence is par for the course. Keller and his cohort, however, are pioneering a more creative alternative for a group of guys weaned on a steady diet of conventional fashion content coupled with obscure menswear memes. Many of them cite similar reasons for launching their own lines, as well as a desire to maintain a certain degree of separation between their cut-and-sew collections and the YouTube channels that, they readily concede, in no small way helped make those collections a reality. "Cole and I wanted to start Bare Knuckles so that we could make clothing that we’ve wanted to wear for years but could never find," says Keller, who still largely keeps his collections separate from his channel.

For Ken Iijima, who started uploading videos to YouTube documenting snippets of his life after moving to Tokyo in 2018, keeping that sense of separation is crucial. When Iijima co-founded Vuja Dé earlier this year with Ringo Chang, the two of them agreed to keep the brand at a distance from Iijima's rapidly growing channel, though both acknowledge YouTube as a powerful tool for engaging with their audience. Their first drop included paint-splattered sweatshirts (acrylic, applied by hand) and bondage cargo pants, all made from Japanese-milled cotton and available exclusively through their website, where each size sold out quickly.

"We always knew what we ourselves have wanted and liked to wear, though we were unsure if our preferences directly translated into products an audience would purchase," says Iijima. "In order to realize this, interacting with our audience was a form of validation in allowing us to gauge viewer support… [and] proceed with the project altogether." YouTube, the two note, has "facilitated interaction and provided a way for our audience to get to know us and see we are just as clothing-obsessed as them."

When Magnus Ronning set about launching his eponymous label, he saw his collection as an organic extension of his wardrobe: well-made, approachable basics with a twist, like a denim jacket in a green paisley print, or twill work pants in a dusty pink hue. Ronning is similarly appreciative of the platform his YouTube presence affords him. "YouTube has without a doubt been the most significant incubator for the brand. It has essentially given me a platform to share my interest in clothing, Ronning and everything else with a larger audience than I could ever imagine," he says. "I love the community on YouTube, and I find it amazing recognizing names of people who consistently interact and comment on [my] videos."

Ditto Owen Hyatt, who started posting videos on YouTube in the summer of 2017. Hyatt always wanted to be a YouTuber, even as a kid. "All my idols back then were YouTubers," he remembers. "It was amazing to me that recording videos about your interests could be a job." In early 2019, he debuted Colette Hyatt, a collection that openly pulls inspiration from some of Hyatt's favorite and oft-referenced designers. (Hyatt dutifully shouts them out in the product descriptions on his site.)

The brand's aesthetic skews slightly avant-garde: Its first collection included hand-distressed hoodies with detailed, gothic-looking graphics and an embroidered vegan leather crossbody bag that wouldn't look out of place hanging on the dimly-lit racks of some iconic institution of downtown cool. "At the end of the day I just design clothes that I love and want to wear, and if my audience and customers love it too then even better," Hyatt says. "Getting input and seeing people's reactions to new pieces is always great insight but it doesn't have a major impact on what I create." Yet Hyatt maintains YouTube still holds a lot of value for him "when it comes to showcasing Colette Hyatt, since it's hard to get 'personal' on Instagram."

Hyatt could've just mocked up a few graphic tees and called it a day. Instead, he (and Iijima, Keller, Ronning, et al.) are creating thoughtful, high-quality clothing by aspiring to a level of craftsmanship on par with the luxury labels they admire. For the most part, these guys are making product they like and figuring their followers will, too, all the while responding in real-time to a constant stream of feedback from fans. Internet influence, though, is fickle and fleeting. Pivoting away from content creation is a great way to guarantee a degree of career longevity beyond making a quick buck promoting another company's products. Tapping into the rapidly growing market for men's clothing is a savvy way to capitalize on demand from followers who are constantly clamoring for an "ID on the 'fit, bro?!" Why promote another brand when you could be promoting your own?

Keller sees his brand and others like it as a natural progression of what he was already doing on YouTube. "We go from consuming products, and showing off other people's creations, talking about other people's designs and details. Eventually, we want it to be our product and our details that we're showing off," he says. "We consume so much product and buy from so many brands that we start forming a vision as to what we want our own clothing to look like and take cues from those clothes we've bought in the past." The easy thing to do, Ronning points out, is to release a limited-run of a few cutesy printed t-shirts. In his opinion, the channels currently churning out some of the most exciting menswear content out there are defined by a "want to do better." The bona fide brands he and his friends have started are "well past the point of [T-shirt] blanks and are developing actual cut-and-sew collections."

Vuja Dé's Iijima and Chang share a similar sentiment: "We think there is a common misconception that all YouTube brands are automatically categorized as 'overnight sensations' or 'cash grabs.' We wanted to distance ourselves from this association… It would not do Vuja Dé justice." Hyatt wouldn't be surprised if the nature of menswear content on the platform changes, too. Videos will become "more oriented around our brands," he predicts. "There will be less pickup videos and more behind-the-scenes videos. How our next lookbook photoshoot was shot, how to take product photos, that sort of thing."

Despite the handwringing caused by an Instagram personality with over 2 million followers who couldn't sell 36 T-shirts, influencers still move a lot of merchandise. Keller and McBride have since dropped two more Bare Knuckles collections, further developing the ideas they introduced in earlier designs and expanding into new product categories each time. Most pieces currently in stock on the brand's site are still available, but there's no reason to assume that's cause for concern. Keller uploaded a video to his YouTube channel in early August, just over a year after his last update. Among the hundreds of comments — largely roasting Keller good-naturedly for his inactivity — one fan noted: "As weird as it sounds, every time I watch your videos... it's like seeing an old high-school friend. Crazy it's going on 7-8 years since I've been watching your videos! Glad to see Bare Knuckles doing great bro!"