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punkwithpaints · 4 years

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The Rammstein Magic!AU no one asked for

Sorry this is kinda Richard heavy. I originally was just going to use him as an inspiration for a single character, but the deeper I went for his character, the more I started pulling in the rest of the gang until I decided it was easier to call it an AU. This is absolute word vomit and spit balling an idea, but I’d love to hear what you think and some feedback! Pardon the rambling and sorry if this makes zero sense.

Richard: Alright, so, basically he can summon spirits/entities things like that. He knows about the forest’s darker secrets. Think of those spooky writings that are like “If you’re in the woods and hear 3 knocks, knock back but leave immediately.” Like, this fucker knows every old spirit, good, bad and unknown that go through the forest. He knows all the do’s and don’t’s and people come to him when they manage to get curses put on them or their families. He also knows about monsters that lurk around at night and other things.

With summoning, it’s a skill where at first it’s overwhelming since he starts to see and hear spirits and all that, so it’s a hard power to learn. Most summon animals or things that are living, not the dead. Most people’s minds can’t handle the added effect of seeing and hearing that stuff constantly.

He goes to churches or houses that people are like, “Uh, What is happening in this place?”. And he can strut in, look around and be like, “lmao that’s a demon, I see you fucker.” And he’s gotten so good at summoning that he can kinda reverse uno whatever it is, causing to it to be able to be seen by everyone else as well.

Problem is, when he first started learning, he got cocky and ended up fucking around with something way stronger than what he could handle at the time and basically got possessed. For years he is basically a dick. He’s dangerous, reclusive, hurts his friends and those around him, yadda yadda. Finally, he has enough will power to try and stop this thing, but the only way he knows how to get rid of it is to kill himself. Because without a living soul/body, the demon has nothing to feed off of or a place to stay. So he attempts by trying to slit his wrists, however, the demon is so impressed with his willpower and determination he offers a deal. It basically says, “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. You will have free will over your body and mind, but I get to stay.” Fine. Demon doesn’t let him die, heals his wounds, but there are scars obviously.

Richard now has a demon inside him. Fantastic. Richard and the demon can converse back and forth. So, Richard will be like, “Yeah, looks like you’re dealing with *insert demon thing here*.” And suddenly his voice will change and the demon is like, “I don’t know, it seems more like *other demon thing*”. Freaks people out pretty bad usually, if they aren’t expecting it. Richard also has a regular eye and a blind eye. Regular eye is just a regular eye, but his other blind eye is what gives him the ability to see the spirits. It’s like a right of passage for his type of people, where they have to blind one of their own eyes somehow.

ANYWAY

With the demon inside him, the demon has the ability to bring things back from the dead. Hence why Richard was able to come back after attempting to kill himself. Technically speaking, Richard is sorta permanently dead but living. I considered giving him no heart beat but I’ll get back to that in a sec. So, Demon and him slowly start working together where he lets the demon influence and strengthen his summoning powers and summon the actual dead as well as see them. Now he has necromancy.

When the demon made his deal, he tells Richard he can summon him if he needs him, but it’s gonna be hella taxing. Richard has to summon him exactly as he did the first time. AKA, slit his wrists to activate it. So, demon would take back into control causing Richards magic to get stronger by God knows how much. Obviously, he can’t do this very often or for too long, but if shit really hits the fan, this could help him make it out alive. I mean, the demon really doesn’t want to lose his flesh home. I’m thinking this is where the heart beat thing comes into play. Where he’s sorta half dead, his heart would stop when he activates the demon to take over.

Till: TILL. THIS GUY. So, I figured where Till likes the water/swimming/animals so much, he’d live at the edge of the forest by the ocean cliff sides. He’s specialize in familiars and mythological creatures. Like, he’s BFF’s with the local sirens and mermaids. He’s the opposite of Richard. Till has the magic that I forget the name of but it revolves around communicating with animals, knowing what the area is saying through them, that kinda stuff if that makes any sense. He likes growing special and rare herbs for potions and rituals. He’s pretty quiet and doesn’t like being around people, so he keeps his magic on the down low usually and spends his time talking to the sirens and mermaids, creatures/animals around him. Tends to his garden and such. He sells it at the weekend markets where he does fine since he’s one of the few that can offer certain herbs. I think he would have a shapeshifting ability or have a familiar he could change into. I’m thinking a bear or a griffin. Druid-ish????

Although Till loves the water, he’s actually specializes in pyromancy. He doesn’t use it too often, since he keeps his magic mainly hidden, but hey, he can start a camp fire or his stove with it, so that’s nice. He loves to gossip with the mermaids and sirens. They were a little confused when their tricks and songs didn’t work on him, well, they did a little, but not completely. But then they put 2 and 2 together and go, “Oh….Wait….I don’t think he likes girls as much as some of the other sailors we’ve met.” So now they just accept him as their bestie and like talking to him about their crushes and the newest dumb sailors they all lured in. They both share fish catches with each other, and Till does sketches of the market/forest so he can come and show them what it looks like since they’re curious.

He also owns a dragon. Not a big one. One that’s the size of a parrot. It likes to chill on his shoulder and likes crackers and grasshoppers. He raised it from an egg. Everyone is all like, “Dude yeah he’s scary omg, I heard he has a whole dragon!!” and they stop by, only to find this burly dude having a cup of tea with the mermaids and a tiny dragon nibbling a graham cracker on his shoulder.

However, his herbs/garden is what links him to Paul and Flake.

Paul/Flake: So, these two bois live together (Definitely no homo going on here) and Flake is even more recluse than Till. They have a cloaking spell on their cabin. You have to absolutely know a certain tree with a ritual attached to it or a spell/password sorta deal to gain access/the ability to see it.

They’re in an open field/prairie area. Flake would be a healer and very good at protection based spells and rituals. He always buys a lot of his herbs from Till so him and Till are close because 1.) Both reclusive as fuck and 2.) P L A N T S.

Meanwhile, Paul has telekinesis and mind reading. He’s a cocky boi but he does care a ton. Even if everyone wants to smack him half the time. I keep thinking their first meeting was something along the lines of:

Flake brings him along when he goes to Till to stock up on herbs, and Paul meets Richard for the first time since Richard stopped by to visit. It’s probably pretty fresh after the whole “Tried to kill myself to yeet the demon out of me and now we’re roommates” deal. And They have barely shaken hands when Paul is looks smug and goes, “You regret you didn’t die but you were honestly too scared too as well.” And Richard is like “ALRIGHT I HAVE TO KILL HIM DON’T YOU DARE READ MY MIND LIKE THAT”. So, Paul and Richard hate each other for a while. Well, Richard hates Paul, Paul doesn’t mind Richard, he’s just waiting for him to come back to him cause that’s usually how first meetings go for him.

Later on, as they start to talk, Paul confides in Richard (after apologizing) that he understands what Richard felt and that he had attempted before as well. Being able to hear everyone’s thoughts and feel their emotions is horrible when you first start out, and is incredibly overwhelming. Over time, Richard and him end up connecting pretty well. Richard still hates the mind reading thing (so does Till), but despite the differences, they’re friends.

Paul can also temporarily slow/reverse time in a certain limit around him. Maybe like, 15-20 foot radius? For about 30 seconds? Let’s say Till decided to use his pyromancy towards him, Paul can decide to halt it and slow it, or it can begin to reverse itself. Richard sends out some hellhounds, Paul can cause them to slow way down once they get close so he can duck around them and hurry off somewhere else.

Flake, despite the hatred of being around people, is actually a pretty great guy once he warms up to you. He’s someone you can have a good cry with but also, he can absolutely fuck up your whole day. I’d think since he can do cloaking spells, he’d understand spells about portals and rifts. To make something ‘invisible’ (AKA, their house), he’s more so just shifting the dimensions people can see, making it into one that they can’t. And sometimes, you got to yeet your idiot friends through portals to somewhere safe cause they don’t know when to shut the hell up. One of my inspirations for his powers was the music video to the song Falling to Pieces by David Guetta, specifically around the 2:55 mark. I’d imagine that, instead of getting obliterated like the people in the music video, it more that he’s shifting every part of that person into different portals/dimensions. I mean, technically, yeah, they die. BUT HEY, who can say they died via getting blasted through different portals and shifts down to a molecular level? Flake can’t do it a lot obviously. It’s hard enough opening one or two portals, so to pull a stunt like that could kill him if he isn’t careful enough. So many times everyone has had to be like FLAKE NO HEY CHILL WE ARE OKAY DON’T DO THAT.

I imagine Flake and Paul have been friends since they were teenagers, so they watched each other’s powers develop. Once Paul starts figuring his powers out, it starts becoming too much. Flake tries his best to be supportive and encourage him and keep him sane, but Paul can feel how much he’s scaring Flake and making him worry. Paul finally tries to end it (in a similar fashion to Richard, so they have matching scars which is another bonding point for them), but Flake finds him in time. However, Flake hasn’t quite got his healing abilities down yet, but the fear and adrenaline of losing his best friend is what flips the switch to finally allow him to completely channel it. Paul heals up and startles back into reality and is like “EXCUSE ME, I THOUGHT YOU COULDN’T DO THAT” and Flake is shaking him like, “YOU DUMBASS IF YOU EVER DIE IM GOING TO KILL YOU.”

Ollie: My tall boi. I’m thinking he’s part wood elf. His magic is based off of using the environment such as tree roots or trees, manipulating and summoning eco life around him. Wanna get beat by a root system? Ollie is your guy. His powers are kinda like Till, but not as animal heavy. I know there’s a word for this magic too but my ass cannot remember it for the life of me. He’s probably one of the rarest of the bunch to spot, but unlike Till or Flake, he doesn’t put up much of a fight when it comes to seeing people or going out. People are intimidated by him cause, I mean, this fucker is 6’7 and came out of the woods like some magical sasquatch lumberjack.

But he’s very down to earth (Pun intended). Ollie crafts armor or blades in his spare time. Sometimes he’ll join Till at the market and sell his stuff or take commissions from anyone who needs new weapons/armor, or if they need anything repaired. He knows how to lace objects with magic so it can do a better job with protection or heighten the users own abilities. Ollie is able to know what’s happening in his neck of the woods. He lives in the deepest part of the forest, Richard isn’t too far from him actually. But Ollie’s area is more of a calm area of the woods, not the spooky ass weird area Richard stays in. Ollie has way more ALIVE deer, first off. No wendigos. What a difference.

I don’t know how to phrase this without it sounding dumb as hell, but basically he talks to trees. He can tap his magic into the systems of the trees and plants and pick up on conversations miles away from him. The trees become his eyes and ears, if that makes sense. It’s never super sharp or in focus (Dream like maybe?), but he’ll know when you’ve entered his section of the woods. He can sometimes tell roughly how many, and catch snippets of your conversations. He’ll make sure to keep an eye on you.

Schneider: My boy. I’m thinking he’s a witch mage kinda guy who has visions and predictions. He fucking loves crystals, tarot cards, special odds and ends, things like that. Reading the stars kinda guy. Schneider actually gets called in by the king or whomst the fuck ever is running this world I’m coming up with, to predict the futures of queens incoming babies, wars, decision making, yadda yadda. He’s hella guidance and damn good at what he does. His visions are never in perfect clarity, but with the aid of his other doodads and such, he can give you a pretty good estimate. He’s like Turbo Tax, but with life choices.

I’m thinking his powers would probably be something along the lines of a copy cat? He can usually tell what your about to do a few seconds before you do it. Somethings are super easy for him to predict (like a punch), other things are harder (complicated magic). I think he might fit under the title Warlock with a Vestige pact? Where the souls/echos of his ancestors that have passed on stay with him. They’re the ones that help him see glimpses into the future make sure he’s protected. They’re also why he can replicate (roughly) most spells that are done towards him. For example: If Paul tried to levitate something and toss it at him, there’s a chance that someone before Schneider, in his linage, had some kind of knowledge of that form of magic. If Schneider reacts fast enough, he can reverse uno that shit back at Paul or toss it somewhere else. Sometimes, it’s more of a canceling effect. So, if Richard tried to resurrect something to attack him, he could undo the resurrection spell, making the dead thing fall back apart, since you can’t double bring something back to life.

Him and Richard went through a similar process to gain their abilities. Richard is a host and dealt with/is dealing with being possessed, and Schneider is temporily possessed/influenced by his ancestors when needed. For a bit, they’re tense around each other cause both felt they were better than the other. Schneider felt like Richard “cheated” to gain his necromancy powers, while Richard is pissed that Schneider had it “so easy” compared to what he went through.

Like Paul and Richard, Schneider and Richard finally have a sit down and Schneider admits his whole ritual/process of gaining his abilities.

To gain access to all the souls/echos, Schneider had to ‘live’ through each ones most painful times via his visions. So, easily 100+ memories that he has to go through in one go. No stopping, feeling/seeing/hearing everything that happened to these people, one at a time. Sometimes it’s their deaths, sometimes it’s a fight or injury, sometimes is verbal things. It totally wrecks with a persons mind and body. A lot of times, the people who go through this process don’t make it because they try and kill themselves afterwards or during. If they stop the line of visions, they cannot ever be started again. They usually develop a severe fever and cold chills, and the process can take several days. So if the fever or themselves don’t kill them, they might make it. So him and Richard bond over that.

I know it sounds stupid, but Schneider lives in a cave. Once you enter, it’s lined with different crystals, crystal balls, dices, maps, star charts, ornate rugs on the floor, silks all over the place, just really nice and cozy.

Overall, each one could work together and combine powers. Examples include: Richard and Till combining Richard Necromancy and Till’s Pyromancy to create a physical embodiment of hell and scare the absolute shit out of anyone.

Ollie (Controlling trees/roots) and Till (connections with animals and mythical beasts) deciding to just use a whole ass forest all that lives in it to really fuck up someone’s day.

Schneider and Paul staying 50 plus steps ahead of the game. Even more so, could Schneider have Paul slow time so he could have a better chance of knowing what’s about to happen/copy a spell?

Flake and Paul working together to slow time, then open portals for enemies to run head first into at last second.

There’s some other ways but there’s a few! I’m so sorry this is so long.

#personal #rammstein #AU #till lindemann #Richard kruspe #paul landers #flake #christian lorenz #oliver riedel #christoph schneider

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veorlian · 4 years

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Idolatry - Concealed Carry

Note: Part 1/3 of the chapters on the Citadel DLC. Technically part of a much longer fic, but I think they stand up okay on their own! An everybody lives/nobody dies au except that I didn’t realize I could do that until 2/3 of the way through. Sorry Kaidan :(((((((

Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard

Rating: T for swearing and stabbing.

ao3 link

Excerpt:

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant, and Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

Full text under the cut!

...

The apartment was huge. Shepard was sure there were other, fancier words to describe it, but she sure as hell didn’t know them. An entire wall was a window, looking out into the night lights of the Citadel. There were walls wholly covered in green, verdant plants that she couldn’t identify. There was a damn waterfall. Shepard let out a low whistle, looking around.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe. These walls weren’t closing in on her, they were too far apart. The ceilings were vaulted like a church, reaching up into the sky.

She wandered down to what had to be the living room (two giant couches, a fireplace, a grand piano??), and the TV flickered on.

“Shepard, good to see you,” Anderson said. There were new wrinkles creasing his forehead. She could hear distant explosions in the background of the vid.

“And you. How are you holding up?” she asked.

“We’ve had better days,” he said wearily.

“I know what you mean.” Damn, did she ever. “But why am I in this apartment?”

“I want you to have it,” he said, and Shepard’s brows reached her hairline. “I bought the place for Kahlee and I to settle down. Thing is, the longer I stay on Earth, the more I don’t want to leave. Figure someone should get some use out of it.”

“That’s...very generous. Are you sure?”

“It’s practical. We need you at your best, and you need somewhere you can take a break.”

“I-- thank you,” she said. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice anyways?”

“Not even a little bit. Make yourself at home,” he said, smiling. “You take care, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson,” Shepard said. He nodded and stepped out of frame. Marie replaced him. Her hair was more grey than black now, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Good to see you in one piece, Jeanne,” she said. “I hear you killed a Reaper single handedly. Have I mentioned that you should be more careful?” Shepard grinned crookedly.

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Apparently it bears repeating.” The affectionate exasperation was palpable, even with the light years between them.

“How are things there?” Shepard asked. Marie’s face became carefully blank, but Shepard had known her since she was a child. She couldn’t disguise the look in her deep brown eyes, or the small frown on her lips. Easy to forget, impossible to forget, that she was only 24.

“We’ll make it,” Marie said firmly. And then, “You’ll make it too. That’s an order, Commander.”

Shepard’s grin widened, and she sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Marie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. That was all that mattered.

“Go and get some rest, will you? The bags under your eyes are visible from Earth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Shepard said easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanne.” The call disconnected, and Shepard glanced around her new place. Her new place. Even the church had never truly been hers. There weren’t many things she considered truly her own, she supposed.

There were recordings littered around the apartment. Apparently Anderson had taken down voice notes for his biography. She couldn’t help the small, fond smile that flitted across her face. Her hands paused above the one labelled Shepard on the kitchen counter (she’d never had her own kitchen before). She pressed the play button, and she listened.

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There’s been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn’t true. People are quick to judge. They don’t know the whole story, I don’t even know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her, trust her with my life. Shepard’s had some rough patches, who of us hasn’t? She’s been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.”

Anderson’s warm voice filled the apartment, and his every word was laced with pride. Shepard realized belatedly that she was crying, hot tears painting her cheeks. Gently, she sunk to the floor and rested her head against the cupboard. She thought of Aratoht then, as she always seemed to. Makes my head spin too, she thought.

“Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got ‘no sir, I can’t do that.’ She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard’s been through. I like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there’s a whole bunch of people who lose sleep about her getting back home. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe we’re just to dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard...even more rare.” Anderson’s voice drifted away.

I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know? Garrus had said. Maybe they were right. Her heart was so full. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the warm feeling in her chest. Loved, maybe? Not a word she was used to choosing, but it fit the bill. She carefully picked herself up and dusted herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her private message terminal was blinking, and she went to check her unread messages. There was a note from Joker asking him to meet him at a sushi restaurant. Huh. She’d never had sushi before. No time like the present, she supposed.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Perhaps, she thought, her N7 hoodie and cargo pants wouldn’t be appropriate for an upscale sushi place. She wandered upstairs and peeked into her room (there was a hot tub. She’d...well, she’d never had a bath before. No bathtubs in the Alliance). She tugged open the closet and her eyes widened. There was that dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, but next to it was something else entirely. Reverently, she ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft to the touch, velvet maybe? She pulled it out.

It was a suit. It had to be a suit, although it was unlike any she’d ever seen before. The matching pants and jacket were there, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a deep blue, but as the fabric shifted in her hands it looked dark burgundy. There was a matching silk black camisole to wear underneath. It felt luxurious, soft as a cloud. She’d never owned anything this expensive that didn’t fire bullets. There was a small note tucked in the pocket.

Thanks for all your help. Consider this an early birthday gift. Who knows, by the time you take a break it may be your actual birthday. I think I’ve got the measurements right, but nobody’s perfect. - Miranda P.S., there’s a white shirt as well, but it’s much harder to get blood stains out of white silk.

Shepard smiled down at the note, and very carefully got dressed, anxious not to damage the clothes. She tugged on the heeled boots that seemed to go with it, and examined herself in the mirror. Miranda might insist that she wasn’t perfect, but she’d done a damn fine job with this. The cuffs fell to the exact right spot on her wrists, and for the first time in her life, the legs were long enough. The boots had a low heel, comfortable and well-balanced enough that she could run.

And Miranda, blessed Miranda, had included a concealed pocket for a switchblade. Shepard loosened her strict braid into something a little more casual, and she smiled at herself in the mirror one last time. Then she left for sushi.

The lineup outside the restaurant was around the block and then some. The people waiting were distinctly unhappy that Shepard had a reservation. If looks could kill, Shepard would have been pushing the daisies. She strode past the glares with practiced ease. Joker was seated at a table at the back, and he waved her over.

“Just gotta save the galaxy twice to get a place here, huh?” he said. “Hey, maybe when we do it again they’ll let us eat free!”

“That’s the spirit,” Shepard said. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“I feel like I should go check the Normandy for missing parts,” he griped. “I don’t trust those engineers.” Shepard chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“She’ll be fine, Joker. She’s been through the Omega 4, she can handle a few repairs. Relax, you’re on shore leave.”

“I’m gonna need a lot more drinks with umbrellas in them,” he said mournfully.

“I’m the first human Spectre. I’ll get you two umbrellas,” she said wryly.

“Awesome use of power, boss! So, what’d you ask me here to talk about? Your note said it was important.”

“Me? You invited me here,” Shepard said, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Commander Shepard, please I need to talk to you!” A young woman in an Alliance uniform pushed her way forward, with the maitre d’ shouting after her. The people in line looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked politely.

“I’m Staff Analyst Maya Brooks of Alliance Intelligence. Someone’s trying to kill you!” the woman cried. Shepard and Joker exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah. I think she’s aware,” Joker said dryly.

“No! I don’t mean the Reapers and Cerberus. Other people,” Brooks said. “They’re hacking your accounts, your communications, and it looks like they’re targeting you personally!”

“What information do you have?” Shepard asked. She straightened up, suddenly all business.

“Well--” Brooks began.

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant. Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

“Joker, I need you to stay calm,” Shepard whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to take these guys out. When the coast is clear, go find the rest of the team. But I need you to stay here until it’s safe, understood?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said fervently. One of the mercenaries approached to look behind the table. Shepard caught his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground, following it up with a devastating jab from her omni-tool directly to the face. She grabbed his gun and held it at the ready. She glanced around her cover and saw two more mercs coming at her. One went down with a shot to the face, the other with a thrown knife to the throat.

“Joker, now!” she hissed. Joker got up and stumbled away as best he could. Once he was out, Shepard activated her tactical cloak and booked it across the room. If there was one thing she’d learned these long years, it was that the best fight was the one you avoided. Once she’d made it to Brooks, she tried to help her to her feet. A sniper appeared from above and fired a shot, hitting Brooks. Shepard backed away and each shot landed by her, sinking into the ground.

If only the restaurant hadn’t decided to use fish tanks as their floor.

Shepard went down, glass shattering around her. She seemed to hit every bone on the way down the side of the building, banging into the wall over and over again. She slammed into the ground hard, all of her freshly-healed wounds screaming obscenities at her.

“Commander!” Brooks called over the comms. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Shepard groaned. “Can you find me a way out of here?” Dr. Chakwas was going to have a fit. She’d been off the ship two hours and she was already broken again. Ugh. At least the clothes seemed to be in one piece. Small mercies, Shepard supposed, as she struggled to her feet.

“Uh, yes! Keep going forward, I think!” Brooks said. Shepard grit her teeth.

“Thanks,” she managed. She slid down the ladder up ahead of her and took a look around. Somewhere in the wards, she figured.

“There’s a sky-car lot up ahead of me, Brooks. Could you find me a path there?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, yes! Of course!” Brooks replied nervously. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she wove her way through the wards. She came up on some kind of market, and she caught sight of another group of mercs barrelling towards her.

“There she is!” one of them called. Shit. This outfit really wasn’t built for stealth, huh? God, she’d kill for a rifle right about now. Instead, she slipped back into her tactical cloak and hid behind a fruit stand. What a weird fucking day.

“Shepard! Are you alright?” It was a relief to hear Garrus’ voice, even if it was only through her earpiece. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine, but I could use a hand,” she said ruefully, aiming an incendiary blast directly to the face of one of her attackers.

“Joker sent me your location, I’m on my way,” he said immediately.

“This is a secure channel!” Brooks cut in. “You’re putting Commander Shepard at risk!”

“I’m what? Who is this?” Garrus demanded.

“Brooks, Garrus. Garrus, this is Brooks,” Shepard said. “Now please hush, it's a little hard to kill mercenaries with people arguing in my ear.”

“Shepard, I am sending backup to your location,” EDI said.

“Sounds good, things are getting a little dicey here,” Shepard replied. She glanced over the fruit stall and had to duck quickly as a drone came barrelling towards her. It exploded directly next to her, sending pieces of watermelon and blueberries flying.

“I will attempt to register surprise,” EDI said dryly. Shepard grinned crookedly at that. She dashed forward as another round of mercs came at her. She spent the next several minutes fading in and out of invisibility, running hell for leather past the mercs. Her legs, miraculously, stayed upright. Small mercies. She pulled into the car lot and slammed the door shut behind her. A shot zipped past her, missing by inches. … “Having a bad day, Shepard?” Garrus called. He took out the merc that had shot at her, and scanned the area for any more threats. It looked like they were clear for the moment. Now to find a way out of the lot.

“You could say that,” she said, pushing flyaway hairs away from her face. “Let’s look for a control panel.” His eyes finally came to rest on her and his breath stuttered in his throat. She was wearing that thing humans called a ‘suit,’ but not like any he’d ever seen before. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“Nice outfit,” he managed. The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment. “Ah, control panel. Right.”

Shepard strode through the lot and glanced into the darkened office. She gently tapped on the glass. Garrus hurried after her.

“Could you open the doors up?” she said politely. The doors opened a second later. “Much appreciated.”

“Please leave,” the volus inside pleaded.

Garrus motioned for Shepard to stay behind him. Only one of them was armoured, after all. She raised an eyebrow and took point.

“So...you fell through a fish tank?” he ventured.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she replied.

“Damn shame,” he said, and now he was just doing it for the reaction. Midnight blue fabric. Not thinking with his brain. “I hear it was the best on the Citadel.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said more firmly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and then they both stepped onto the landing zone. That Brooks person had apparently radioed to say that a C-Sec shuttle was on the way. When it appeared though, the door opened to reveal a group of the same mercs that had been attacking Shepard. Garrus ducked down and dragged her with him. Bullets skittered across the ground around them.

“Any chance I could borrow that Widow of yours?” she asked breathlessly. He looked at her incredulously.

“I must not have heard you right,” he said. “You definitely did not just ask to borrow my favourite gun.” She opened her mouth to reply, and then her eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Krogan coming through!” Wrex bellowed, soaring through the air. He slammed down onto the front of the shuttle, sending half of the mercenaries flying. He mowed his way through the other half, shooting, punching, and in one case, launching them off the shuttle. Shepard was grinning wildly.

“Wrex! What are you doing here?” she asked, running forward.

“Negotiating krogan expansion with the Council,” he explained. “But that AI of yours said there’d be a fight. So here I am.”

“Glad you could make it to the party," Garrus lied through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wrex said. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Figured Shepard would need some help, if you’re the only backup she has.”

“Try to keep up, old man,” Garrus shot back.

“It may have escaped your notice, but we are being shot at right now, boys,” Shepard said dryly. Ah, right. Fair point. ... Once they were clear, they gathered in Shepard’s new apartment. Brooks was pacing back and forth, and Shepard put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Me? I got shot! Like, with an actual bullet. I took a desk job so I wouldn’t get shot! They said the medi-gel might make me jumpy, do I seem jumpy to you?” Brooks said.

“Hey, hey,” Shepard said soothingly, the voice she usually reserved for grieving families. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“We need to stop those guys, they might hurt more innocent people! Like me! I got shot!”

“Yes. Do we have any leads?” Shepard asked. The door to the apartment opened gently and Liara stepped through.

“I may have some suggestions on that,” she said. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“I think my ribs are bruised again, but what else is new?” Shepard said ruefully. “That C-Sec shuttle should have had officers in it. I’ll get in touch with Commander Bailey, see what happened,” Shepard said, punching in the number in her omni-tool.

“Wait!” Brooks said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Uh, wouldn’t anyone you contact also become a target?”

“She’s got a point,” Garrus said.

Shepard nodded brusquely. “You're right. We keep this between us for now.”

“Fortunately, I’ve brought a few people who can help,” Liara said cheerfully. The door was knocked on its hinges as every member of her crew -- and a few people who weren’t -- filed in. The apartment was large, but even so Shepard was going to need to figure out where to put all of these people. What, was there an event going on at the Citadel right now that had brought them all there? Well, besides her attempted assassination.

“The riff-raff have arrived. Garrus, hide the silverware.” Shepard’s voice was pitched to carry.

“Up yours, Shepard,” Jack shot back.

“What she said,” Zaeed added.

"I'll go see what I can find. Come find me when you have a moment," Liara said.

Shepard wandered around to speak with everyone, but it all just seemed to be variations on the theme of “haha Shepard ruined the sushi restaurant” or “Shepard, how could you destroy that sushi restaurant”? Evidently they’d collectively decided to forget that she hadn't exactly chosen to be shot at. What compassionate friends she had, she thought wryly. She gave up after a while and went to talk to Liara.

“What's the word?” she asked. The others slowly gathered around. There was barely enough room for them all to stand together.

“That pistol you found, it’s not available anywhere on the market. I’ve tracked it to a weapons dealer named Elijah Khan. He owns a casino nearby. They’re holding a charity event tonight,” Liara explained.

“So we sneak in and talk to this Khan guy?” Ash asked.

“My sources tell me he’s locked himself in his panic room. We would need someone to sneak inside this vent system.” Liara pulled up a map of the casino interior. “And deactivate the lock.”

“I say we blow the place to high heaven,” Zaeed suggested.

“I’m in,” Wrex said immediately.

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Shepard said. “Any other suggestions.” Zaeed politely flipped her off.

“Bringing a large group would arouse suspicion,” Thane said thoughtfully. “A covert infiltration would be best.” Shepard nodded.

“Alright, just a small crew then. I’ll need someone to take point with me, and then someone else will crawl through that vent,” Shepard said. “Any takers for the vent?” She looked around the room for volunteers. They were not forthcoming.

“Mechs are not allowed in case they are used for cheating. Legion and I will not be able to enter,” EDI explained. Shepard’s eyes swung to Tali and she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me!” Tali protested. “They’d uh...pick up my suit!” Shepard shrugged.

“What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers. We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…” Brooks trailed off as she realized everyone was looking at her. Shepard smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright Brooks, you’re our alternate,” she said.

“What? Me? I couldn’t...what do you mean alternate?” Brooks asked. Shepard smiled ruefully.

“I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already been shot once. And since I’ve had two gun mods go missing since I got back, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s someone here who can lend a helping hand. Kasumi?”

The galaxy’s best thief materialized, sitting on the kitchen counter. She had a cheeky grin under her hood.

“You’re getting very good at that,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure would’ve been awkward if I’d been wrong,” Shepard replied wryly.

“Damn, I should’ve stayed hidden!”

“What do you say to a heist with me?” Shepard asked. Kasumi hopped down from the counter and sketched a bow.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

“There’s just one problem,” Liara cut in.

“Current estimate: 57 problems and counting,” Mordin replied. “Additional 34 if you decide to take the krogan.” Shepard couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Well, one of the problems is that it’s black-tie only,” Liara said. Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her outfit. It was still damp from crashing through a fish tank, but otherwise undamaged.

“Will this do?” she asked, motioning to the suit.

“It’ll more than do,” Garrus said huskily, and then coughed awkwardly when several sets of eyes turned to look at him. “What? I’m just answering the question.”

“Who’s going with us then?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard grinned.

Bright lights flashed in Shepard’s eyes as she and Garrus walked down the literal red carpet, arm-in-arm. Maybe one day they’d get to go somewhere nice without worrying about a nefarious plot. For now, she was on vacation and she was going to enjoy herself, attempts on her life be damned.

“You clean up well,” Shepard commented. He had on another of those intricate turian outfits, with more buckles than fabric, in a combination of black and white. He wore it well. They were, she imagined, quite a striking couple. For one, they were a good head taller than anyone else. For two, well...

“Yeah? Then it’s a damn shame that all eyes are on you,” Garrus replied.

“I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest,” she said wryly.

“Well your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!” he said easily.

“You two are adorable,” Kasumi said from somewhere to Shepard’s left. Shepard flushed a brilliant red, and she heard Kasumi laugh brightly.

Shepard and Garrus mingled with the wealthy clientele, occasionally providing support for Kasumi as she travelled through the vents. Shepard realized, suddenly, that this was the bright and shining culture she’d seen from afar when she was younger. This was what she’d wanted to experience. As far as she was concerned, they could keep it.

Distracting the guards to disable the alarms wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but they managed it. But when they arrived in the panic room, Khan was already dead. Shit.

“It’s never that easy, huh?” Garrus asked.

“He received a call a few minutes before he died. Give them a ring and I’ll see if I can trace it,” Kasumi said. The large screen behind the desk flickered to light and a figure appeared on the screen. Their face was concealed by static, and their voice was altered.

“Elijah? Come crawling back?” they asked.

“Guess again,” Shepard said. Kasumi's hands flashed across her omni-tool.

“You. I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometres taller than you.” Shepard leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Brave. I thought as much, but it won’t matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall. I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.” The call ended.

“Gotcha,” Kasumi said brightly.

“Shepard, someone’s wiped the drive. Bit of a messy job though, there might be something left,” Garrus said.

“Between EDI, Legion, and Tali, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Let’s go.”

They were once more gathered around the pool table, now with even less room than before. They were discussing the information they’d been able to find on Khan’s drive, mostly information about the guns that Shepard’s attackers had bought. Glyph flew over and hovered above the table, flashing red.

“Commander, I have found your Spectre code being used at the Citadel Archives,” he said.

“What would they want there?” Shepard asked.

“Shall we go find out?” Liara said.

“But who? We can’t bring everyone,” Brooks piped up. Shepard grinned.

“Why not?” she asked. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Very well, but who will take point with you?” Liara asked. Wrex coughed pointedly. And then Javik coughed even more pointedly. Tali coughed politely, but also pointedly.

“Garrus and Jack, you’re with me. Everyone else, divide up into three teams of whoever is least likely to want to kill each other.”

“What happens if I want to kill bird-brain?” Jack asked.

“Think happy thoughts,” Shepard suggested.

“Those are my happy thoughts,” Jack replied snarkily. Ah. Some things never changed.

They’d barely made it into the archives when they walked into a trap. The others were up on the catwalks above, and every door in the room slammed shut. A figure appeared behind Brooks and pressed a gun to her temple. They were shadowed, and even Shepard’s excellent vision couldn’t quite make them out.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” they said.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded. The figure chuckled darkly.

Why do I know that voice? Shepard wondered. The figure tossed Brooks aside, and strode forward into the light. She wore the same uniform as the mercs, but her face…Shepard stared back at her own Roman nose and burning red hair. Only not quite. This nose had never been broken, and there wasn’t the familiar patchwork quilt of scar tissue across her face and neck.

“I’m you, but better,” the other Shepard said. “Without all the doubts and the wear and tear.”

“Huh. This officially takes the cake for the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” Shepard said. “Let me rephrase: what the fuck is going on?”

“Cerberus spared no expense when it came to bringing you back. Me, they made for spare parts, in case you needed an arm, or a lung, or a kidney. When they had you, they discarded me,” her clone snapped. Shepard’s brows knit together.

“Well if you’re me, then we should be working together,” she said. The clone scoffed.

“Why would I bother helping you? Why should I care? You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take everything from you. But there was no way I’d fool your friends, so I needed to get rid of them as well. All the people that turned their backs of their responsibilities to join the cult of Shepard,” the clone spat. The cult of Shepard…?

“No one will ever believe you’re me,” Shepard said, trying a different tactic.

“Sure they will, when I’m flying your ship,” the clone replied. Shepard froze and then immediately started keying into her omni-tool.

“Traynor, I need you to lock down the ship, understood? Here are the command codes,” she said quickly. Her clone smirked and waved a hand in front of her.

“Good idea, if only that message had been sent,” she said. She keyed up her own omni-tool and raised her voice slightly. “Traynor, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure. Here are the command codes.”

Shepard’s hands balled up into fists. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone steals my ship.”

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Shepard called after her. “Do you know your own name?”

“It’s Joan,” the clone replied smugly. Shepard grinned, baring her teeth.

“Guess again,” she said, and she activated her tactical cloak.

They fought their way through the archives, the other teams racing on the catwalks above. Liara’s information drone, Glyph, scouted ahead. Occasionally he returned, saying that he mistook the clone for Shepard. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and she mostly succeeded.

“The other Shepard’s still alive!” one of the mercs yelled.

“The next person who says that is a dead man!” the clone snapped over the comms.

“An accurate observation,” Legion said.

“What do I do??” Brooks cried. “They’re firing at me!”

“Just follow Shepard's lead and let us do all the heavy lifting!” Liara called.

“Touché, T'Soni!” Garrus shot back.

“Think you comedians could actually hit something?” Shepard shouted, ducking to avoid oncoming enemy fire.

They forged on through the archives, passing by clips of history. One by one, the teams stopped responding. Shepard pushed on faster, concern creeping up on her. And so she rushed headlong directly into a trap that she should’ve seen coming. Shepard set foot onto a platform and a forcefield appeared around her, Jack, and Garrus

The clone stepped forward, smiling smugly. Shepard tried to shoot her, but the force-field stopped the bullets dead. Shit. Shepard felt light-headed. She was locked in a small space. A very small space. Oh god, such a small space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she fought to control her breathing. She reached for her familiar, cold veneer. Like hell she was going to show weakness in front of the enemy.

“Well well, the great Commander Shepard. But not for very much longer.”

“Where are my friends?” Shepard spat.

“Locked up in iridium vaults forever. And it’s all your fault,” her clone taunted.

“The Alliance will stop you--” Shepard began.

“Will they?” Her clone cut her off. “What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” Brooks sauntered forward from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice had shifted, becoming deeper, more assured. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“You bitch,” Jack spat.

“I’m with Jack on this one,” Garrus said. Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own.

“This feels like the time when the villain explains their grand plan,” she said. “So what the hell?”

“Really we just wanted your Spectre codes,” Brooks explained. “But then you had to insist on surviving. So, I had to improvise.”

“Then I must say, I'm impressed,” Shepard said.

“Oh?”

“Your optimism is impressive,” Shepard clarified. “You threw, what, fifty mercs at me and you thought that would finish me off? For such a smart woman, that's remarkably short-sighted of you.”

“I think I've made up for it now. Let's see you get out of a locked box.”

“What, this? No, I've been in far worse situations than this. Last week I was trapped at the bottom of an ocean in a mech. This is nothing.”

“You seem remarkably calm for a dead woman,” Shepard’s clone said. Shepard’s eyes flicked to her and she sneered.

“I could say the same of you. You can change the records, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You know the name on my file, but you don’t know the first thing about me. How are you going to convince Anderson or Hackett or--”

“Or General Shepard?” Brooks cut her off. “We’ll deal with her.”

Shepard stilled. Her erratic heartbeat settled. Her words, when they came, were soft. “If you threaten her again, I will make you wish that I’d only killed you.”

“That's quite a threat. I might even be afraid, if Commander Shepard had said it. But you're nobody,” Brooks said.

“And you're on borrowed time,” Shepard replied. Brooks' expression faltered, just a tiny bit, at whatever she saw in Shepard’s eyes. Shepard’s clone scoffed loudly, breaking through the tense silence.

“You know the one thing about us that they can’t replace? Our handprint. It changes based on life experiences,” the clone said. Shepard thought of the scars that used to twist across her palms. “But now I’m going to replace yours.” The clone pulled up a terminal and pressed her hand down.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the computer said. The clone grinned smugly.

“Goodbye,” Brooks murmured. “I guess this is where legends go to die.” She and the clone waltzed away, seemingly without a care in the world. The platform jerked beneath Shepard and walls slowly closed around her.

“I’m going to strangle them,” Shepard vowed.

“I’m all for that, but we’re still trapped in this fucking box,” Jack pointed out.

“With limited air,” Garrus added. Shepard hummed noncommittally.

“Hey Glyph, you still out there?” she called.

“Yes Commander.”

“Get us out of this thing, and then go find the others. Nobody steals my ship, not even me.”

Joker pulled up in a sky car just as the last stragglers pulled themselves up onto the roof.

“I’ve got room for Shepard and two more, and you better decide fast because those assholes are stealing my baby,” he snapped.

“I could drive--” Shepard said.

“NO!” The sound of the entire crew shouting the word echoed across the rooftop.

“Fine,” Shepard muttered. “Garrus and EDI, with me.”

“I wanted to go,” Wrex grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you insulted my driving,” Shepard said. “Joker will be back for you soon.”

Joker hit the pedal to the floor as soon as everyone was in the car. A moment later, there was a whirring sound from the back seat.

“They’re trying to take control of the ship--” EDI said. Her eyes spun around, and sparks flew off of her. She shut down.

“Crap,” Garrus said. EDI powered back up, her eyes still askew.

“Are you...okay?” Joker ventured.

“I am functional, but I have no control of the Normandy. I feel...lost,” EDI said brokenly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you back in no time. You have my word,” Shepard said.

“Thank you.”

They arrived on the Normandy just as it was starting to pull away. Traynor was in the entryway, sputtering various unflattering things about Shepard. She caught sight of Shepard and she held her toothbrush threateningly in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You were...you were back there! I was minding my own business, and then you marched in and fired me! I barely had time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard held up her hands. “That’s a Cision Pro Mark IV. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums. I know that because you told me, because I’m the real Shepard. The one you saw earlier was a clone.”

“I--”

“I wish I had time to explain, but we need to get on the ship. No one knows it better than you do, Traynor,” Shepard said quickly. Traynor thought for a second. Apparently she decided to go along with it, because she leaned down to examine the ground.

“There should be a ventilation shaft around...here.” She pulled up a piece of the floor. EDI shook her head.

“You would need something that could precisely manipulate mass effect fields,” she explained. Shepard met Traynor’s eyes, and Traynor determinedly turned on her toothbrush.

Crawling through a shaft wasn’t exactly ideal for Shepard’s over six-foot frame, but she just about managed it.

“If you’d told me this morning that a toothbrush was going to save the Normandy, I’d have been very skeptical,” she whispered. “Remind me to reimburse Traynor, I think it broke.”

“Shepard, you--” EDI began.

“Later. Remind me later.”

They opened the grate into the CIC with guns blazing. The mercenaries were no match for them. EDI looked like she was running on sheer, unadulterated rage. She grabbed hold of a dying mercenary. Her voice was like ice. “Where are they?”

“Cargo bay,” the merc managed.

“Thank you for your assistance,” EDI said, and shot him in the face. Shepard met Garrus’ eyes and shrugged helplessly. They made their way to the elevator, and Shepard’s heart dropped to the floor. Mako’s cage, along with her carefully assembled collection of model ships, was resting in a garbage bin. There was a note on top with handwriting that was almost (but not quite) the same as Shepard’s.

“Please get rid of this, a ship is no place for…oh that is so not okay. They messed with my hamster guys. Now it’s personal,” Shepard hissed.

“Was it not personal before?” Garrus asked.

“I-- well, yeah. But Mako’s defenceless. What was a little hamster going to do to them--”

“I suggest we keep moving,” EDI cut in.

“Right, right. Of course.” Shepard hit the button on the elevator.

#shakarian #mass effect #me2 #me3 #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #oc: joan shepard #50/50 odds i delete this in an hour but who knows #did i write a 100k+ word story so that i could write the citadel dlc? mayhaps

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sirsapling · 4 years

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MORE TAGGED POSTS

I got tagged in a bunch more things I didn't respond to fast enough, so UNDER THE CUT THEY GO.

I have too many things to respond to, so I won't be tagging, but consider yourself tagged if you want to do any.

IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

Tagged by the wonderful @bardingbeedle

Pass the happy!🌻🌿 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications!

Lying in warm blankets in an cold room. Bonus points for snow outside.

A fresh Buzz cut

Talking to @bardingbeedle

Having long, passionate rambles about the Marvel Ultimates

Hashbrowns, bacon, maple syrup, maybe a pancake, and a sausage too.

Tagged by the chaotic @s-hylor

top 3 cities you want to visit: Toronto, again. Colorado (I know its a state not a city I just want to visit ashes AND GET SNOW). And I would like to go back to Italy again. (I also want to visit, just, all of my fandom friends but I don't want to drop all their locations lol)

favorite marvel character: Ults!Steve Rogers and then Ults!Tony Stark. Not counting stony, Anthony the brain tumor, and not counting clones, Gregory Stark.

white chocolate - yay or nay?: Love it, love it, love it.

favourite board game: God Save The Queens- A board game about Bees I invented with 3 other people at University last year for a project.

how many countries have you been to: 10, I have been very luckily graced with the ability to travel to Europe with school a lot.

(Wales, France, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, America [Florida, Boston, New York], Spain, Portugal, Italy, and finally Canada.)

favorite thing to do on a rainy day: Anything indoors I might usually feel guilty about doing when its sunny. Tv or games particularly

favorite holiday: Christmas. I am a Christmas slut, call me festive sapling I LOVE Christmas.

pen or pencil: Pen. I once bought 7 in lisbon at the same time bc they were perfect and I didn't want to run out.

favourite kind of soup: Cupasoup Chicken noodle, I don't really like soups tbh, I like broths, and gravy type things I make too much of and eat like a soup (like golden Currys or korma sauces)

your typical order at a cafe or coffee shop: Caramel Frappucino or an iced Mocha. If I'm gonna pay a fuck tonne for coffee I'm gonna get a drinkable dessert.

favorite ride at an amusement park: Any slow rides that show you shit, like spaceship earth at EPCOT. I’m not really a speed dude.

the color of your sneakers: RED, red shoes are the shit folks, a good pair of red converse goes with everything.

favorite pbs show (or little kids show if you didn’t have pbs): Uh I used to watch pokemon then winnie the pooh every single night. But little little kids show I used to watch a show called 64 zoo lane with my grandma so I have fond memories

Rules: name your favorite female characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people.

Tagged by the wonderful @ashes0909

Natasha Romanov - Marvel Cinematic Universe

Carol Danvers - Marvel 616

Janet Van Dyne - Marvel Ultimates

Izumi Curtis - Full Metal Alchemist

Martha Jones - Doctor Who

Garnet - Steven Universe (if she doesn't count bc, space rock, Connie)

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Ann Perkins - Parks and Rec

Princess Caroline - Bojack Horseman

Pam Poovey - Archer

LOOK I know there was a lot of cheating here, but I don't have non marvel fandoms really, and I have a hard time remembering a lot of the TV I enjoyed.

Rules: Share your top 10 AO3 additional tags. Tagged by the mysterious @nigmuff

look I don't know if I have enough tags to make this a justified representation, but the ones shown are v much on brand.

Fanfic trope meme

I was tagged by the delightful @capnstars and @crownofstardustandbone

slowburn or love at first sight // fake dating or !!!secret dating!!! // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut AND fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or !!!!middle-aged romance!!! // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi or magic au // body swap or genderbend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

Look guys, I’m boring. I like domestic 30-40 year olds in secret relationships. We knew this.

And now buckle the fuck down folks because I'm about to answer 50 questions about me no one is gonna stick around and read.

tagged by @bardingbeedle the only person who would put up with reading this much about me.

What is the colour of your hairbrush?

I have a buzz cut, I don't have a hair brush anymore.

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too warm. I have been warmer than most people my whole life, and I often need to sleep with a fan on.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Working on a sketch for an MTH fill (update from the end of this: I have spent an hour doing this fuckin thing)

What is your favourite candy bar?

Bounty. My favourite candy is Reese’s Pieces but I like a bounty. Or like, and chocolate without fruit in it tbh.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Yes, one of my parents referees Championship Football here in the UK. I have been to a few of his games. I also went to the London 2012 Paralympic closing ceremony, if that counts.

What is the last thing you said out loud?

‘Oh, this will last me a few days’ I was talking to my mother about 1/2 a can of pringles, I was lying.

What is your favourite ice cream?

Vanilla. I am boring. But the best ice cream i’ve had was a cream/milk flavoured gelato in Florence, that shit slapped. I also like cheap strawberry ice cream when no one is trying to put strawberry bits in it.

What was the last thing you had to drink?

Dinner. A spinach, banana, summer fruits and coconut yoghurt smoothie (with extra raspberries). Its my nightly dinner to cheat more veg into my body.

Do you like your wallet?

Very much. It’s about 7-8 years old, it is faded to hell but it has spiderman and a pony ride stony pin

What was the last thing you ate?

See above smoothie comment, but if that doesn't count, a sugar free mint polo.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope. I don't buy as many clothes as I want to, bc mens clothes in larger sizes are hard to find or expensive here.

The last sporting event you watched?

F1, I don't keep up but I watch a little with my dad every now and then.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?

BUTTER. They don't really have it here, and I don't go to movies much when in the states. But @festiveferret introduced me to it when we saw Ant-man and the Wasp, and much like poutine and Tim Hortons, I still crave it.

Who is the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad.

Ever go camping?

Yes, I was a Scout. I have done enough camping to not want to do more, it was fun when I wasn't organising it.

Do you take vitamins?

Yes, but not as often as I should, and as much as my mother bothers me too.

Do you go to church every Sunday?

Nope, not even when I considered myself christian. I go only go to church for other peoples events, and I’m an agnostic now.

Do you have a tan?

I cannot tan. I just can't, I burn lobster red in 5 minutes outside without literal sun cream for BABIES

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Chinese food, It was easily what taught me to like more foods also, I don't eat tomato so I can't have most pizza. I love a good garlic base/bechamel, but you can't really get that here easily (yes yes I could make my own but that ruins half the point of pizza)

Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I don't drink carbonated drinks, because its like drinking pain. The fuck is wrong with all of you.

What colour socks do you usually wear?

Various colours, but I consider red on the left, blue on the right, my lucky socks. No I don't know why, but I take all exams and interviews wearing them. It’s just a thing.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I don't drive, but if I did, No. Theres a lot of questionable laws out there but Traffic laws aren't one of them.

What terrifies you?

Pfft, most things from spiders to rollercoasters. But more seriously, Being shouted at. Shout at me and I start hyperventilating, its a thing. Also not knowing if someone is mad at me. I’m not good at reading people,

Look to your left, what do you see?

The wallet shown earlier, and the sugar free polos mentioned after that.

What chore do you hate?

Vacuuming. It makes everything in my body hurt. I would rather clean toilets.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

@s-hylor

What’s your favourite soda?

See above. I do not like your pain liquid. Apple juice for life.

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

Either delivery or kiosk, I don't like talking to people where possible, I often need tweaks I don't want to have to remember to repeat.

Who’s the last person you talked to?

@downeyhills

Favourite cut of beef?

I don't generally eat beef, lamb, or most red meats. I love crispy chilly beef, but as anyone can point out its bc your generally don't feel the texture of the beef.

Last song you listened to?

Everybody Wants to Rule the World | Tears for Fears | Pomplamoose

I’m on a Pomplamoose kick, and I also just love this song anyway.

Last book you read?

Understanding Comics (The invisible Art) - Scott McCloud

Favourite day of the week?

Friday nights. The weekend is ahead and @loraneldin and I take to wrangling our beloved usual suspects through another week of Ults Book Club.

Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can barely say it forwards.

How do you like your coffee?

With milk and sugar, or ultimately, in a Caramel Frappuccino bc I'm a bitch like that.

Favourite pair of shoes?

I have walking boots that don't make my flat ass feet feel like they’re dying. OR my black and green crocs (Fight me, they’re useful).

The time you normally go to sleep?

9-10 is what I'm working on, but I fluctuate depending on if I'm working on something or not.

The time you normally get up?

5-6 If I have a choice in the matter, but often 7-8 if I didn't get to bed at the right time. I’m more about getting the right hours in for my diet than time specifically.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Sunset is the prettiest, but I like to be awake to see the sun rise.

How many blankets on your bed?

One big thick comforter, because that's the uk standard, and I get too hot otherwise.

Describe your kitchen plates

Two types, big wide white ones with a navy blue rim. They are so large I never use them, and little Navy saucer plates I use a lot.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

I don't drink, so no. I drink apple juice or Shirley temples when I'm in pubs/bars

Do you play cards?

Sometimes, I like to teach people to play Old Maid. It’s the monopoly of card games.

What colour is your car?

Again, I do not drive.

Can you change a tire?

I am aware I just said I don't have a car, but I do know how to change a tire. Everyone should go learn its pretty simple.

Favourite job you’ve ever had?

I have only had one job really and two job experience jobs. I did experience in a school library for a week and that was v fun and chill. I did all the jobs they had prepared for me in 2 days so I alphabetically reorganised their fiction section for the rest of the week. I LIKE ORDERING.

How did you get your biggest scar?

I no longer have a gallbladder, so I have 3 scars across my torso from that, the biggest right in the middle of my ribs. Non surgical wise I have matching scars on my knees from ripping holes in them when tripping. I have weak ankles and also I got both of those at different times.

What did you do today that made someone else happy?

I gave my spare animal crossing Iguanodon skull to a wicked artist I follow on twitter so he could complete his dino park.

#text post #tagged in #wow long post #wow x2 #tag memes

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 29

Unfinished Business

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst

Word count: ~6800

Masterlist

Read on AO3

The morning finds you, Sadie and Arthur camped out in Big Valley. Arthur has been relatively quiet since your discussion, not that you blame him. The end seems to be coming sooner than you thought, and the prospects of the future frightens you.

You get up just as the sun is rising over the mountains. The other two are still asleep. You take the opportunity to wander into the large meadow on foot, feeling at peace finally. Something about this valley, the forest and the meadow seems so pure and holy. You used to go to church as a child with your parents, but the thing everyone else claimed they felt inside of it never came to you. That feeling of peace and of having found your place in the world comes here, though. You wonder if maybe when Arthur finally decides it’s time to leave the gang and Dutch, he’d be willing to live here. Perhaps you and him could build a small cabin. Strawberry’s close by, which is ideal for when you need to visit a shop or a post office.

You sit down in the meadow near the thin winding river and study the scenery. A herd of pronghorns and a white tail buck graze nearby without any fear of you. In the distance, you spot three elk and even a herd of wild horses. If Heaven is real, it must look something like this. You pull out your journal and begin to sketch the view, finally feeling happy with the strokes of your pencil.

Nearly an hour passes and Sadie wanders towards you. “Hey, what you doin’?” she asks.

“Just enjoying the view.” You close your journal and stand up.

“Come on. Arthur ain’t up yet, but you and I can go scope the place. Try and get a count of how many of those bastards are there.”

You nod and follow Sadie over to Hanging Dog Ranch. It’s a relatively short walk and you both hide behind a boulder and look through your binoculars. Sadie counts over a dozen men, but you point out there could be more in the house and the barn. Plus there are tents set up and it’s possible that there might be more sleeping in them.

Sadie suddenly gasps. “That bastard is here.”

“Who?” you ask quietly.

She points out a fat man with a bushy brown beard walking around near the barn. He pulls out a cigarette and begins chatting with another man.

“He’s the feller who shot Jake. He left before Arthur and Dutch showed up, but I told him he’d see me again.”

“He’s yours then, Sadie. Now come on, let’s go get Arthur.”

Sadie growls and lowers her binoculars, grinding her teeth. You both head back to Arthur, who’s just stirring awake. He sits up and rubs his eyes. Sadie picks up her rifle and slings it over her shoulder.

“Fine mornin’ for a killin’,” she says to him.

He nods and stands up, picking up his own rifle. “You two seen anything down there?”

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of them,” you say.

“One of them,” Sadie snarls. “Fat feller with a beard. He’s mine.”

“Okay,” Arthur says and gestures for you both to walk with him. As you do, Sadie and you fill him in on what the ranch is like.

“I’ll take the lead once we get there,” Sadie says as you walk out of the cover of the trees.

“So no real plan then?” Arthur points out.

“Oh I got a plan. Now come on, get in cover.”

You and Arthur hide behind a large boulder near the perimeter fence while Sadie continues walking. She goes up to the front of the ranch where two O’Driscolls stand, keeping guard. They spot her and one says, “Hey. I think I know her! She’s one of Dutch’s-”

He’s suddenly cut off by Sadie’s bullet plunging into his skull. The other one falls as she shoots. You and Arthur stand up and aim, firing upon more of the men. Sadie begins screaming like a wild cat and runs into the ranch amidst the returning gun fire.

“Damn it, Sadie!” Arthur growls and he runs out from behind the rock. You follow him and together, you run into the ranch after Sadie and continue shooting. The loft doors of the barn slam open and a man with a gatling gun opens fire, sending you and the others diving behind stacked crates. Sadie takes cover behind an outhouse.

“Take him out, Arthur!” Sadie yells.

“I can’t get a good shot at him!” he yells back, reloading his gun. You peak around your crates and you can get a shot at him, but he’s directed the gunfire at you and Arthur.

“Arthur!” you yell over the thundering shots. “Can you direct his fire? I can get him, but it’s too much where he’s at!”

“Fine!” he hollers back. He takes a breath and then darts over to where Sadie’s at, successfully taking the man’s fire with him. You dart out quickly, aim and breathe out. Pulling the trigger, the gatling gun fire suddenly stops as your bullet strikes him in the neck.

The O’Driscolls begin hollering in anger as Sadie and Arthur leave their cover and the three of you advance on them. After a few more moments, the shooting stops.

Sadie lowers her gun. “There’s more in the buildings. You two take the barn, I’ll take the house.” She doesn’t wait for a response and runs to the house, kicking the door in as you and Arthur head to the barn. You see a wagon sitting near the barn with crates in it, creating a perfect platform to get to the upper floor of the barn without going inside of it. You do so as Arthur smashes through the front doors, firing on more of the men. You take cover outside of one of the windows and then aim inside, taking out two men. Another man yells in anger and aims his gun down at Arthur. Before he has the chance to fire, you take him out. All is quiet at last.

“You okay up there?” Arthur yells.

You climb in the window and look down at him, waving to signify that you’re fine though a bit out of breath. “Good. I’ll help Sadie, you loot these bastards, see what you can find.”

You nod and take the chance to catch your breath as Arthur heads over to the house. As you’re looting the men you shot, you hear Sadie’s shriek and then silence. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she was being murdered, but you know she must have found her quarry.

A few moments go by and you’re about to go into the house when the door opens. Out walks Arthur and Sadie, who’s covered in blood. Her eyes are watery and she sniffs loudly. Arthur whistles for his horse.

“I think I need to be alone for a bit,” Sadie says as you walk up to them.

“I understand,” Arthur replies. He looks at her and then gestures to her clothes. “You, um, might wanna get cleaned up.”

She smiles a bit and then thanks him and you before hopping onto her horse and galloping away. Arthur puts a hand on your shoulder as you both walk over to your horses.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Of course. Sadie?”

“Ah, she found that bastard she mentioned. Anyways, we probably need to head back.”

He hops onto Artemis and looks at you as though waiting for you to argue with him about returning to Beaver Hollow. Instead, you sigh and hop onto Rannoch.

“Can we just walk there?” you ask. “I know the station ain’t far, but… this place is so pretty, Arthur.”

“Fine,” he says. He’s still been acting strange, even cold and distant.

The two of you run the horses in relative silence. The forest changes from the thick, close pines to clusters of aspens. Just as you’re approaching the army fort, you hear someone calling.

“Help me!” the voice calls. “And I shall help thee.”

You pull Rannoch to a stop and look around for who the voice belongs to. You see a figure near the road leading to the fort, slightly hunched and using a walking stick. You call Arthur’s attention to the figure and trot Rannoch up to the person.

The figure turns out to be an old man, a wild gray beard hides most of his face. He doesn’t seem to see you or Arthur as you approach, but he must hear you. He calls out, “Penny for the blind.” He shakes a tin cup.

You dismount with Arthur and approach him, neither of you saying a word. The man must know you’re close to him as he stretches out the arm holding the cup. “Help a blind man,” he asks, his white eyes blinking.

You and Arthur pull out a coin and drop it into his tin. He rattles the cup and then pauses. Although he cannot see, he faces Arthur.

“Be warned, sir, be warned. Surrounded by fields of burning fire and flesh, the devil shall make his sacrifice.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks, I guess,” Arthur says.

The old man shakes the tin again, listening for the clinking of your coin with Arthur’s. His head, which shakes slightly, turns to face you.

“When the golden stag lifts his head, that is when you must go backwards rather than forward.”

“Um, okay. Appreciate it.”

You both stand in front of him, waiting to see if the blind man will say anything else.

“Please, I need to be alone with my thoughts,” he says. “They say old blind man Cassidy is crazy, but I see what others do not.”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders and returns to Artemis, hopping onto her and continuing on. You do the same.

“Hey,” he calls back to you. “You mind if we run up to Charlotte’s? I, uh, wanted to check on her. Make sure she’s doin’ alright.”

“Of course. And what about Hamish?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s fine, I’m sure. We’ll go huntin’ with him soon but we need to check in with camp again before we do that. Dutch mentioned somethin’ to do with the army and Eagle Flies. I’m worried he’s gonna try somethin’ real stupid.”

You sigh and agree. You’re beginning to get tired of Dutch and his warped plans, using the complicated struggle between the Indians and the army as a means to his ends. Arthur is getting tired of them too, but he still seems to want to stick around, try to help Dutch clear his head. Whenever you mention the possibility of you both leaving, Arthur brings up John. While you agree that John and his family need the chance to escape, John doesn’t seem interested in taking it. You wonder how long Arthur will wait for him before he decides he’s done. Although he agreed that if, by a month, he’d leave with you, he didn’t seem taken by the idea. Part of you wonders if he truly wants to leave, even though he says he does.

Arthur still says little as you both head up north towards Willard’s Rest, passing by a loft on a cliff which overlooks the sweeping expanse of New Hanover and Lemoyne. The trees return as you head down the mountain and rejoin the railroad tracks which will lead you right to Charlotte’s home.

The falls come into view and Arthur diverts Artemis off the train tracks and up the rise. He slows down just before reaching the cabin. As you do the same, you hear a gunshot and trot Rannoch up the path. Once the cabin is in view, you see Charlotte with her back to you, aiming a rifle at bottles she’s placed on a crate. She shoots again, but none of the bottles break.

“Darn it!” she calls out, lowering her rifle. You and Arthur walk up to her and she smiles when she sees you.

“How you feelin’, ma’am?” Arthur asks.

“Much better than I’ve felt in a long time. If we hadn’t caught that rabbit, I don’t think I’d have made it another day.”

“Well, you sure look better,” Arthur says, smiling. You nod. Now that you can see her face properly, she has more color and her face is clean, her eyes brighter.

“Better and determined, thanks to you two.” She pats the rifle in her hands. “If I’m going to to hunt, I figured it was time I learn how to use this.” She aims the rifle again.

“How’s that going?” you ask, watching with a smile.

“Well, let’s just say my prey is looking rather unscathed.” She takes in a deep breath and shoots, the bullet going nowhere near her target. “But the end of labor is to gain leisure, isn’t that what Aristotle said?” She places the butt of the rifle on the ground, the barrel pointing up past her.

Arthur grabs the barrel and points it away so she doesn’t accidentally shoot herself. “Well, I don’t know much about Aristotle, but I do know guns. Come on, I’ll show ya.”

You smile as he shows Charlotte how to stand and properly hold the rifle. It reminds you of when he taught you how to do the same all those months ago.

“Hold steady,” he says softly, “breathe slowly and always pull the trigger on empty lungs. I’ll show you.”

He pulls out his pistol and aims it, shooting at one of the smaller bottles on the crate.

“You make it look so easy,” she says.

“It is,” you say, pulling out your revolver. You point at another bottle and shoot it, the glass shattering. “You try now. Remember to breathe.”

Charlotte clears her throat and aims the rifle again. “Wait to breathe out,” she says to herself over and over. After a few seconds, she fires again, the bullet striking the corner of the barrel.

“Would you look at that?” she says happily. “I haven’t hit one that close all day!”

“Not bad,” Arthur says. “Focus on the inhale, shoot on the exhale. My turn.”

Just as Arthur is about to shoot, something scurries out from behind the shed.

“Oh no, that wretched rat is back,” Charlotte says. “It’s been a thorn in my side since we moved here.”

Without hesitation, Arthur pulls the hammer of his gun down and shoots the rat. With a sly smile, he looks over at Charlotte.

“Show off,” she says, a light blush on her cheeks.

Arthur chuckles and shoots a bottle. “Alright, Y/N’s turn.”

You clear your throat and shoot another bottle. Something about Arthur’s behavior is beginning to make you feel unsettled. He’s been distant with you the past two days, and now here he is being friendly with Charlotte. Helping people isn’t unusual for him, but something about their interactions seems different. You hope Charlotte isn’t growing something for him.

Charlotte nods in approval of your shot and then aims again. She hesitates once more and then pulls the trigger. A bottle explodes.

“I hit it! Did you see that? I hit it!”

Arthur chuckles and smiles at her. “That you did. You’re already gettin’ better.”

“What can I say? Thank you.” She pauses for a moment. “Listen, I still have some of the rabbit left. I’ve salted it up. Would you both join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.”

You and Arthur thank her and follow her inside her cabin. The majority of it is a long, single room for the kitchen and dining, but two rooms lead off to the right side, their doors shut. Charlotte sets the rifle down behind the door and heads over to her stove where a pot of stew is boiling. She gestures for you and Arthur to take a seat.

You and Arthur do so and Charlotte brings the pot over to the table. “Well, it’s hot at least.” She grabs some bowls and spoons some stew into one, handing it to Arthur. “Bon appetit.”

“Huh?” he says.

She smiles at him. “Please enjoy.”

He smiles back at her and dips his spoon into it as Charlotte hands you a bowl as well. You thank her and taste it. It’s surprisingly good, better than Pearson’s anyways.

Charlotte sits down opposite you and begins filling up her bowl. “I really am grateful to both of you. You’ve already helped me so much.”

“It was nothing,” you say.

She smiles at the pair of you. “You’re good people.”

“Awe, I wouldn’t say that. Least not about me,” Arthur says.

“I know enough. There’s always more to find in ourselves. You helped me to see that. My husband Cal was such an optimist I found it to be very contagious. But if I’ve learned anything out here, it’s that there’s a fine line between optimism and naivety.”

She starts telling the story of how she and Cal had lived in Chicago. It’s very different from your life in Blackwater. While you had been able to enjoy the perks of civilization in Blackwater, it was nothing to compare to Charlotte’s life. Your father had enough money to keep you and your mother comfortably living, but Charlotte and Cal must have come from wealthy families.

“It turned out to be very crushing,” she continues. “My father could be overbearing. Then we came out here and I got crushed by this. When Cal first came up with this idea, I pictured myself picking vegetables from a garden, sipping homemade wine, writing a great novel. Instead I turned out to be a far more pathetic anti-heroine than I ever imagined.”

Arthur smiles at her. “I reckon you’ll do just fine, ma’am. I think you’ll find you have more strength than you realize.”

She smiles at him and then catches herself. “But listen to me. Throwing my worries and burdens on you fine people. I barely know anything about either of you except you’re familiar with guns and hunting.”

“There ain’t much to tell, to be honest,” Arthur says. It’s clear he doesn’t want Charlotte to know too much about the gang, nor do you simply as part of the code. He does tell her about his mother and father, the same story he told you. When he gets to how he was on his own until Dutch and Hosea found him, he makes it sound as though they lived fairly normal lives and depended on nature to survive.

Charlotte listens politely as he tells his story. “Well, they must be good men to have taken you in the way they did, this Dutch and Hosea.”

“They are, or were. Unfortunately Hosea passed away not long ago and Dutch, well. He’s changed since then. Been more rash and impulsive.”

Charlotte sighs. “Must be hard for him. Sounds like he and Hosea built quite a family and lifestyle together. Grief does strange things to people, and no one deals with it the same way. I myself have done things I never would since Cal died. There’s been times when I’ve become overwhelmed with anger and just want to… hurt someone or something so they can feel even a bit of my own pain. Perhaps that’s what is happening with Dutch.”

“I don’t know. He’s always been the more impulsive of the two, but it’s like now that Hosea’s no longer there to be the voice of reason, Dutch just goes around destroying everything in his path.”

Charlotte stands up and takes your empty bowls. “Well, he’s lucky to have you there for him at least. Maybe while he’s processing this situation, you can try and help steer him.”

“Oh I been tryin’. Things are… just goin’ from bad to worse.”

“How so?”

“Awe, it… it’s complicated.” Arthur looks at you and pats your knee. “Charlotte, thank you for the meal, we really appreciate, but we need to get back.”

“Of course,” she says, clasping her hands. “I understand, and thank you both again for all your help. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m going to try hunting today.”

“Good,” you say, standing up. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

She smiles at you again. “Listen, if either of you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Anything I can do to repay you for your kindness.”

You both thank her once more and head back to Beaver Hollow. Once again, Arthur’s uncharacteristically quiet. It’s almost the way he was when he first asked you to marry him, he has that same distance about him. You think back to what was last said before he starting being this way, and you recall your discussion about setting a date to leave the gang if things haven’t progressed or if John hasn’t left on his own.

You both arrive back at Beaver Hollow and Dutch walks over to Arthur, his arms spread. “There you are, Arthur. Listen, I need you to come with me. We are going to help our friend Eagle Flies give the army a final tweak on its nose.”

Arthur hitches Artemis up and looks hard at Dutch. “You really think that’s a smart idea, Dutch? We’re already in the army’s bad books, you think this is going to help us or the Indians?”

Dutch puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “This is the right choice, Arthur. We need noise, and a lot of it to get those Pinkertons off our backs.”

“I thought that was the whole reason behind blowin’ up the bridge?”

“Yes, it was, but it didn’t create enough. Now come on.”

Dutch hops onto the Count and looks at Arthur expectantly. Arthur sighs heavily and gets back onto Artemis.

“You want me to come along?” you ask, hoping that perhaps you and Arthur can talk Dutch out of doing something stupid.

“No,” Dutch says. “The fewer of us involved, the better.”

Without another word, he kicks his horse into a gallop and Arthur doesn’t even have the chance to say anything to you. You watch them until they disappear beyond the horizon. As you’re turning to head to your tent, you suddenly bump into Javier.

“Shit!” you say, jumping a little. “You scared me.”

“Y/N,” he says without any other greeting. “I need your help with something. Heard of a stagecoach coming up to Annesburg. Big mailing stage going through Van Horn. Arthur says you did a good job a couple months back on one just like it.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re taken aback by this. Javier has never done a job with you nor asked for your help with one. It’s even more curious that he’s doing so now with how hostile he’s been with everyone in camp. He seems to sense your hesitation.

“It could have a lot of cash, Y/N. The more we get, the sooner we can all get out of here. We all need to help Dutch in order to help ourselves. Now let’s go.”

You sigh and begin following him when Micah calls him back. “Javier, I need you for something. Dutch mentioned you might have some knowledge on this train we’re thinking might be coming through.”

“Can it wait?” he asks. “Y/N and I are going out on a job.”

“She can do it by herself, can’t she?” he demands, waving a hand in your direction. Javier looks at you and then to Micah. It’s clear he doesn’t want to abandon the job. You pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Javier, I can manage this one on my own. The drivers for this mailing company ain’t that tough. I’ll even save some of the cut for you.”

He pauses a moment and then nods. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Micah doesn’t look at you as he heads back to Dutch’s tent with Javier. You’re glad for this job as it allows you to get away from this place again. You feel a little bad, you and Arthur haven’t brought any kind of meat back in a few days and Pearson’s stew is probably fairly sparse at this point. You make a note to hunt after the stage.

Rannoch gallops down the path as you ride east and south in the direction of Van Horn. Your mind is elsewhere as he runs. It’s too late when you realize that things have gotten too quiet on the trail.

Just as you’re becoming nervous, a shot rings out through the trees in your direction. The bullet doesn’t hit you or Rannoch but it’s enough to make him stop and rear up, tossing you onto your back. He gallops off as two men come out from the trees.

You gather yourself and stand up, whipping out your guns. At first you think they’re Murfrees as this is still their territory and they’ve continued robbing people despite Dutch stealing their stronghold. However, you notice their clothes are only dirty, but not torn, old and rugged. The men also lack the wild glint in their eyes that Murfrees have. You wonder if they’re just desperate travelers robbing anyone coming down this way.

“Get her!” one of them yells. He has a flabby, long face with dull eyes and moppy brown hair. The other is a gangly blonde with red cheeks. He laughs loudly and points his gun at you. Before he has a chance to pull the trigger, you shoot your sawed-off at him and he drops to the ground, blood flowing from his chest where you shot him. The other man looks at you with his dull eyes.

“Let’s drop this,” he says in a slow voice. He throws his gun down and pulls out his knife. “Let’s see who’s the fastest and strongest.”

“You’re not trying to rob me?” you demand, suspicious.

He smiles, showing crooked teeth. “Ain’t never wanted to rob you, lady. Just doing my job.”

Before you have the chance to ask further, he lunges at you. You dodge out of the way and begin lifting your gun to shoot him, having no care to fight on his terms. He slams into you, his large body knocking you on the ground and your guns flying from your hands. He lifts his leg to stomp on you but you roll out of the way, crawling towards your gun. He swiftly kicks you in the ribs and then picks you up, throwing you to the other side of the trail.

A second passes and you’re on your feet again, spitting your hair from your mouth. Your ribs hurt where he kicked you, but you don’t acknowledge the pain. You pull out your knife and wait for him. He lunges once more and you dodge, but he trips you. As you’re falling, his blade swipes, the tip catching at your left cheek and gliding across your eye and up to your forehead. The knife misses your eye luckily and you clutch your face, pull your hand away to see it covered in a thick line of blood. The man chuckles and you get up to your feet again, determined despite the blood that’s dripping into your eye.

“Got you good, looks like,” he smiles when he sees the slash across your face.

“It’s nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to you!” You square your shoulders.

He adjusts his grip on the knife, clearly expecting you to come at him. Instead, you dive to the other side of the path, grabbing the sawed-off. You roll onto your back, aiming it. His eyes widen and he runs into the trees as you shoot, your aim off due to the blood in your eye. You blink several times and shoot more, but he’s long gone.

The sounds of his footsteps fade, alerting you to the fact that he’s not coming back. You clench your teeth and put a hand over the left side of your face. You’re glad camp isn’t too far away as you get up and whistle for Rannoch. A few seconds pass and he comes back, neighing. After holstering your guns and knife, you pat his neck and climb onto his back.

“Take me home, boy,” you say, grabbing his reins in your free hand and guiding him back.

As you trot down the trail leading directly into Beaver Hollow, Charles sees you.

“What happened?” he hollers, grabbing Rannoch’s bridle to better guide him into camp.

“Ambush. Guy caught me with his knife.”

Charles hitches Rannoch and then helps you climb off, guiding you with a hand around your shoulder to where Grimshaw’s standing. He calls her attention, stating you’ll need stitches.

“Again, girl?” she squawks. “I swear, you have the worst luck.”

She marches to your tent and beckons you to lay down on your cot. You do so and Charles hands you a cloth to soak up the blood. You’re beginning to feel a bit light-headed, a result of losing so much. Grimshaw stomps back holding a bottle of whiskey and Strauss’s medical kit, which got left behind.

She works quickly, sewing your face back together, dabbing whiskey on the cut. As she does, you tell her what happened to try and ignore the pain.

“He didn’t say why he was tryin’ to kill you?”

“No,” you say. “Just said he was on a job.”

Grimshaw grunts in confusion. Charles has stayed close to make sure she doesn’t need anything else. After a while, she finishes and tells you to get up. Just as you’re sitting up, Grimshaw’s hand on your shoulder, Micah saunters by.

“Get yourself into a spot of trouble again, hmm?” he sneers. “I’m guessing that stage job didn’t get done either. Real way to pull your weight.”

Without thinking, you launch to your feet and rush at him, determined to punch any part of him you can reach. Grimshaw stops you and Charles gets in the way. He tells Micah to leave before you completely lose control. Micah just glares at you and walks away.

“You need to calm down,” Grimshaw demands. “Otherwise you’re gonna bleed more. Now you sit down and I’ll grab you something to eat.”

You do as she says, trying to slow your breathing. She comes back after a few moments with a bowl of Pearson’s stew. She then tells you to take it easy for the night. You’d think she was being kind, but you know Grimshaw too well. She doesn’t want you to cause your cut to begin bleeding again and make you pass out. The pain has come in full by this point and it’s almost overwhelming. Your ribs ache as well from where the man kicked you. You grab the bottle of whiskey Grimshaw was using and start drinking.

By nightfall, you’ve drunk so much your face no longer hurts but you can’t feel much else either. You sit around the campfire, waiting for Arthur to return. The staring from everyone in camp has resulted in you draping your hair over the left side of your face and using the tip of your hat to hide your eyes the way Arthur does.

Dutch saunters into camp, but Arthur is nowhere in sight. He tells you he’s fine, just off hunting and he should be back soon. You’re barely able to understand what he’s saying as you’ve become so drunk. Dutch must be able to tell, he tells you to get to bed. You do so with little argument, stumbling all the way.

The next morning you wake just as the sun is rising. Your head pounds fiercely from the alcohol and your face feels like it’s on fire. Your ribs are sore, adding to the pain. You lie in the cot, wishing you could die where you lay. You flop your hand to Arthur’s side, only to find it empty. Just as you open your eyes to see if he’s in the tent at all, your stomach heaves. You leap to your feet and dash to the river, emptying your stomach of what little is left.

After a few moments, you splash cold water from the river onto your face, making your cut sting. It does little to cure your headache but at least you can think a bit more clearly. Getting back up the hill is an enormous effort, but you do and head over to Pearson’s fire to get yourself some coffee.

As your sipping your coffee, trying to ignore the pain, Mary-Beth walks up holding a small bowl. She holds it out to you.

“Here, I, um, I made some of that concoction Hosea made you when your leg was bad.”

You look in the bowl and see the familiar paste with bits of the crushes plants mixed in it. You take it from her, thanking her. You swallow it quickly, although it tastes awful, and chase it down with coffee.

By late morning, your headache is dull enough you can pick up chores again. Grimshaw flatly expresses she doesn’t want you going anywhere the next few days, stating you’ve had enough adventures for a while.

While you work, you think about how horrible things have become in the gang. So many people have died or left, it seems like hardly anyone is left. You observed Tilly and Karen having a heated argument that the entire gang heard as Tilly pleaded with her to stop drinking. The fight ended when Karen nearly struck Tilly but walked away at the last second.

Your own adventure from yesterday that resulted in your face getting cut open only adds to your worry. You haven’t been able to forget what that man said, how he was attacking you on someone’s orders. The question of who keeps circling in your head, providing no answers. You wonder if it would be best if you and Arthur left sooner than you agreed on. If things have gotten this bad in so little time, you don’t even want to think about how much worse they’ll be in a few weeks’ time.

As you finish scrubbing a shirt, you hear a horse coming down the path. Looking up, you see Artemis with Arthur astride her. You wave to him and smile, although it quickly disappears because it hurts too much. Arthur half-heartedly returns it. You get up and walk over to him, your face still half covered.

“Arthur, can we talk?” you ask as he’s hitching Artemis.

“Sure,” he says. He heads over to your tent. You ask him how things went with Dutch yesterday and he sighs heavily. “Whole thing was a mess. Eagle Flies has been taken prisoner by the army. I’m gonna talk with Charles, see if we can break him out.”

“And Dutch just let him?”

“Dutch didn’t see. The army came at us hard, even had a goddamn cannon. Dutch and I got split off from the others and had to jump off a cliff into the river. Had no choice, we got cornered. Anyways, after we escaped, I went digging around to find out what happened to Eagle Flies.”

You nod, biting your lip. “It’s getting worse, Arthur. Maybe… maybe after we get Eagle Flies out, we need to leave. You and me.”

Arthur turns and looks at you, his brow furrowed. “What about everyone else? We just gonna leave them all behind to suffer?”

“Arthur, we can’t help those who won’t help themselves. You taught me that. John has shown no desire to leave, to get Abigail and Jack out. I talked to her this morning, she says she won’t go anywhere without John. We need to think about-”

“Don’t talk to me about gettin’ ourselves out, darlin’!” he snaps at you, taking you back. “I told you I was gonna get as many people out as I can, and that’s what I’m gonna do. If you wanna leave, then I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

“Arthur, I’m not leaving without you. Where you go, I go, remember?”

“Then I guess you’ll be staying here with me until things get figured out.” He begins turning away when a slight breeze blows through the tent, lifting your hair slightly as you stare at him incredulously. “What’s that?” he asks, straightening back up.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your hair back over your face.

He sighs and brushes the hair away from your face. “What the hell?”

You pull away from his hand, realizing he must find the slash hideous. You push the hair back over your face.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

You tell him everything, including what the man said. “You see what I mean?” you finish. “Things are getting worse, Arthur. Someone is gunning for me and I don’t know who. Please, Arthur, let’s get out of here. Start our life somewhere else like we talked about.”

He lowers his brow again. “And like I said, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until I can get as many people out as I can. They deserve it.”

“Arthur, if they wanted to leave, they’d have done it by now.”

“So we just forget about them, hmm? We just tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, John and all them to figure it out themselves? All because you’re scared about who’s gunnin’ for ya? I’ll protect you, sweetheart, I always have.”

“You ain’t always around, Arthur! Dutch has you runnin’ around so much, you can’t possibly do that.”

“So then deal with it! Go find who this bastard is and put a bullet in him. You took down your goddamn family, this should be easy.”

You can’t understand why Arthur is saying these things. You know he’s always been loyal to the gang, to Dutch. You thought he’d be willing to let it go if it meant having a new life with you.

“Arthur, please. Please, let’s get out here. We’ve saved who we can, the rest need to take care of themselves. We keep going like this, we’re all going to die!”

“Then go! If you’re going to be a coward, then get out of here!” His voice has risen considerably. You stare up at him.

“I- I’m not a coward, Arthur. I’m just trying to be real.”

He lifts his lip to you. “No, you’re just looking after yourself. That’s all you ever done. You don’t give a damn about none of these people. You just want me all to yourself, living in some cabin the rest of our lives like a goddamn fantasy.”

“No, that-that’s not true. Just listen to me. I’m scared for everyone, Dutch is on a suicide mission and he’s taking all of us with him.”

“You always blame everything on Dutch, don’t you? He’s workin’ on getting us out, that means all of us. He’s as sick of losing people as we are. But you… you just assume the worst of him. Once we all get out of here, he’ll get better.”

“Arthur, if he hasn’t gotten any better he won’t ever! Stop lying to yourself!”

He glares down at you and shakes his head a little. “I can’t believe you’d be so selfish,” he mutters. “After all these people have done for you, you’d just let them all die so you can live. You know what? Asking you to marry me was the worst mistake I ever made.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. He clears his throat, looking away. “Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Save it, Arthur,” you growl. “Fine, I ain’t gonna stick around only to watch you die because of the rantings of a mad man, and I won’t hang around as a reminder of your mistakes.”

You grab your satchel from the cot, ignoring his stammerings.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean- Let me rephrase that.”

You stomp across the clearing, trying to keep the tears from falling. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He follows you a few steps behind.

“Y/N, stop! I didn’t mean that, I’m just tryin’ to-”

“And I told you to save it, Arthur!” you holler, climbing onto Rannoch, painfully aware of the gang’s eyes on you. Arthur stands by Rannoch and grabs the reins.

“Y/N, please let me explain things.”

“You said your bit, Arthur, and no matter how much you try, you can’t take back what you said. But I’m glad to know what you truly think about me. Now leave me alone.”

His brow furrows again. “Fine, then run off like you always do. That’s all you ever done when things go bad. That’s what you did when you killed your family and that’s what you did every time you and I argued. All you ever do is run away!”

You bite your lip and look away, willing yourself not to cry. You look down and see his ring on your finger and your tempted to throw it at him. Instead, you look at him. “Good bye, Arthur.” You jerk Rannoch’s reins from his hand and gallop down the path, refusing to look at what you’re leaving behind.

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x female reader #van der linde gang #R* Games #rockstar games #i'm awkward #second chances

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twistednuns · 4 years

Text

October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 5 years

Text

Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Title: Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2223

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children. However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Angst, Gun, Usage of Gun, Unsafe Gun Handling, Angst, Endangerment to a young child, Fear, Wounded, and Angst.

A/N: Dudettes! Get this… once I finished this chapter, I giggled to myself and then proceeded to say, “ooh, Eileen! You fucking bitch!” But like in a good way. Haha. I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I will admit, it was a little tough because I didn’t know how to word it, and I’m worried that it might be a little confusing to comprehend what I was trying to get across… but I hope I’m wrong and that you guys will like it! I can’t wait to read all your reactions! So please, feedback would be amazing! I’d love to know what you all thought of this chapter and the series! Thanks again for reading! You guys are beautiful! xx

On his way to the Winchester’s home, Rufus had called in a crime scene back at the diner. Things had just dropped into some deep shit. As he pulled into the drive way, John was already opening the door and stepping out to greet him.

“Rufus, what’s wrong?” John asked, allowing the sheriff into his home.

“Things just got serious, and I know you wanted to keep this on the down low, but I had to call my men to take care of things back at the diner,” he informed, taking a seat at the dining table where Mary and Jess were already waiting. “Mary’s car is still there, and I might have, literally, stumbled over some important evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?” John asked, his stomach churning.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think I found a possible weapon. There was blood on a large rock next to the car, and I’m sure your boys probably found it too. We don’t know who’s blood it is yet, but my men are on it,” Rufus assured.

Mary’s hands covered her mouth with fear in her eyes. Jess wrapped her arms around Mary tightly, burying her face into the older woman’s shoulder. “How long would it take until we find out who’s blood it is?” Mary asked.

“We’re working as fast as we can. I’d say four hours at the least, could be more. But our forensic team is one of the best, so rest assured. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Mary nodded while John just gave Rufus an understanding glare. “So what do we do now?” John asked.

“We need to find your boys ASAP. Ketch… he’s a real bad guy. I knew the name was familiar. To be honest, I’m surprised the boy wasn’t walking around with an alias. Probably thought since it’s been a long time, no one would notice. Especially around here.”

“What are you talking about, Rufus. Details. I need details,” John encouraged.

“I was getting there. Just hold your horses,” he sassed, earning a pointed look from the worried father bear in front of him. “Look, his full name is Arthur Ketch. He is in a line of work that can get many people hurt. He’s what you can call a collector,” Rufus placed the witness sketch on the table, revealing a pretty honest drawing of the felon. He looked a little different. His face was slimmer, hair a little longer and shaggier, but it was still easy to tell it was him.

“He collects things and sells them in the International Underground Black Market. Sometimes they get clients who reach out to them to obtain a certain object, or objects, in exchange for a hefty sum. People like him will do anything to get what they want. And I mean anything. We caught scent of him a few years back. Almost got him, but the kid was fast. Young, scrawny, and could get through all sorts of spaces. Eventually, the case was out of our hands because the Bureau figured he’d moved on. One thing is for sure, men like Ketch never stay in one place for too long. I don’t know what he would be doing back here.”

“Because he’s a stalker. Probably followed Y/N here, using that family bullshit as an excuse,” the words flowed out of Jess’s lips without a care of filter.

“Stalkers aren’t right in the head. And not only that, this man is a practically a serial killer. He’s left body all over the world. Didn’t even bother to clean up his messes, and he didn’t have to. No one could ever trace him.”

“It’s almost Christmas and all this is happening,” Mary started to sob. “My boys are in danger and Y/N could be dead.”

“How did you get this drawing of him?” John interceded the direction of the conversation.

“Remember Pastor Jim? That break in at the church? Ketch was after an old goblet that was claimed to be used for demonic rituals. An ancient relic used to communicate with the devil. Pastor Jim had it locked away in a safe under the church. Ketch managed to steal it and left Jim for dead, but thankfully the medics got to him on time.”

“But didn’t Pastor Jim pass away?” Mary questioned.

“That he did, but before that, he was able to give a description.”

“Why didn’t we hear anything about this?” John inquired.

“This case was classified by the FBI. They have been tracking these Collectors all over the world, but it’s difficult. You see, there is no pattern. There is never a witness. And if there was, someone came back to get rid of any loose ends, just like they did Jim. These Collectors, they’ve got friends in low and high places. It almost seems impossible,” Rufus sighed. “I don’t know how the FBI is dealing with it, but all I know is that they are.”

John sat back in his seat, running his hands down his face, trying to absorb all the information he’s been given. How could something go from zero to a hundred so fast?

“If this man is as dangerous as you say, and he’s stalking Y/N, then my boys are in danger. They all are. They all could already be dead,” Mary cried.

The room was tense at Mary’s words. It was possible. It very well may be, but they needed to be hopeful. They needed to think positive. They needed to find them.

“Don’t be like that Mary. We don’t know nothin’ yet. We need to find your boys first. Jody said that when Y/N went to get her purse at the diner, Lisa and Ketch were having lunch. That they seemed to know each other. So I’m gonna go pay Lisa a little visit. It’s possible that Lisa is also in danger.”

“Or maybe Lisa’s in with that Ketch guy,” Jess hissed, Lisa and Ketch’s name leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

“None sense. Lisa maybe crazy, but she’s still a good girl. She wouldn’t do something like that. She wouldn’t put Dean, or any of my boys in trouble. She wouldn’t bring such a dangerous man near Ben.”

“We’re gonna find out,” Rufus added.

“And I’m coming with you,” John insisted.

“I’m sorry John, but I can’t let you do that. This is a job for the police. Besides, you’ve got two frightened women here at home that needs you. Also, I need you here in case Sam, Dean, or Y/N comes back. Give me a call if they do, alright?” Rufus stood up from his seat as John nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of tires screeching against the pavement drew Ketch, Lisa, and Bela’s attention. Thinking quick on his feet, Ketch put his hands behind his head and fell to his knees beside your unconscious body. Lisa and Bela gave him with a confused look, the gun still pointed at him.

The door burst open, splinters flying through the air from the force of Dean’s foot. When Sam and Dean came into view, Lisa and Bela went wide eyes, while Ketch’s stoic expression turned into that of fear. “What the hell is going on here?” Dean barked, taking in the sight before him.

“H-help me, please!” Ketch shouted, his voice shaking with terror.

“Bela drop the gun,” Sam said calmly, arms out to show that he wasn’t going to try anything.

“No. This guy is a psychopath!” The tall brunette spat.

Dean’s eyes landed on your motionless body on the couch, next to where Ketch was on his knees. “Y/N!” Dean yelped, rushing over to her. “What the happened to her?” Dean shot Ketch a deadly glare, sitting beside her at the edge of the couch.

“I’ll tell you anything you want. I’m innocent, I swear,” Ketch blurted. “It’s true. You’re not Ben’s father. I am,” Ketch revealed, Lisa’s eyes going wide.

Dean sent Ketch a surprised look before quickly turning his head to glare at Lisa, his eyes hard and accusing. “Is that true? Ketch is the father?” Lisa was at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say. When her lips parted to speak, Dean cute her off. “And this time, don’t you dare lie to me!”

“H-he’s lying,” Lisa continued her deceptions.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Ketch jumped in. “Years ago, I met the two of them at a party. We were all a little drunk, and they both came on to me. I was young back then. How was I supposed to pass up that kind of opportunity? Months later, Lisa contacted me, telling me about the baby.”

“Shut up Ketch!” Lisa barked.

Ketch caster her a wary glance, thinking if he should continue, but he took the chance anyway. “I couldn’t be a father, and I know that makes me a terrible man, but I had my dream job waiting for me back in London. I was young and had a bright future. A baby was the last thing on my mind. But I told her I’d pay the child support, and I have been since, but she wanted more. She wanted Ben to have a father. A good father that would be there for him. So she came up with this elaborate scheme to make you believe that Ben was yours. She told me that if I helped her get back with you, I would no longer have to pay the child support and that she’d leave me alone forever. The only thing that was in the way was Y/N. And by coincidence, the last time I was in Lawrence, Y/N and I ended up on the same flight heading over to Dallas, and having the seats next to each other.”

“Lies! You’re a liar!” Lisa shouted, snatching the gun from Bela’s hand and pointing it back at Ketch. “Shut up.” If Lisa wanted anyone to believe her, she was doing a shit job. Every word she said, every move she made, all of it only made her look guilty.

“Lisa!” Bela was startled. Bela never had any intentions of hurting Ketch. She wasn’t about to get blood on her hands. But when Lisa took the gun from her, she knew how unstable Lisa was. How desperate she was.

“Whoa,” Sam raised his hands up out of instincts.

Ketch watched Lisa, and Dean could see the hesitation in his eyes. Dean didn’t want to believe it, but he felt like he could believe Ketch more than he could Lisa.

“Lisa, put the gun down,” Dean said calmly, despite his anger stirring inside of him.

“No,” she spat, pointing the gun at Ketch. She’s never held a gun before. One slip and she could shoot anyone… kill any one.

“Lisa…” Dean warned.

The room was silent before Ketch took a chance and spoke again. If worse came to worse, he could use Dean as a shield.

“Like I said…” Ketch started, “Y/N caught us talking about it and ran off. Lisa got impatient and panicked and chased after her. She hit her over the head with a rock. Y/N’s been out ever since. We brought her back here and I patched her up.”

“Why not call the police, or bring her to the hospital?” Sam asked.

“I thought she would be okay, that I could patch her up and she’d wake up soon, but when she did, I suggested we go to the hospital, but Lisa refused. And when I mentioned the police, they freaked out and pulled a gun out on me. And that’s when you and your brother showed up.”

“Liar!” Lisa shouted, her grip on the gun tightening.

“Mom! Look what I made!” Ben shouted, trampling down the stairs, interrupting the intensity of the current situation and startling his mother.

BANG! Her finger slipped.

Ben jumped, his scream piercing through the house! Lisa dropped the gun and it fired a second time. Everyone cowered at the sound. Sam noticed the gun and quickly grabbed it to ensure it didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bela was the first person to reach Ben, the young boy curling into her arms crying. Ketch closed in on himself a little, his hands still up where they could see it, but he was fine.

“Any one hurt?” Sam asked, scanning the room.

“Sammy?” Dean choked, a dark spot spreading in the middle of his gray shirt as blood dribbled down the side of his lips.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. “Someone call 9-1-1!”

Dean watched Sam approach him, sliding the gun in the back of his pants under his shirt. He could see Sam talking but all he could hear was a high pitched ringing sound. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw Ben and Bela wrapped up in each other, he saw Lisa staring at him with wide eyes, and he could see Ketch getting up.

“S-Sam—” Dean gurgled.

“Dean! Dean! Hang in there! Please! Dean! Someone! Call 9-1-1! Ketch, please!” Sam begged, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Ketch got up, dialing 9-1-1 on his phone. As Ketch made the call, Sam leaned his brother against the couch on the floor. Dean turned his head to face you, still out cold.

“Y-Y/N…” he called, and then everything went dark.

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Say Something Nice Here!

162 notes · View notes

howling-harpy · 5 years

Text

With All Due Respect

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Speirs/Lipton Word Count: 8032

Summary: Only commands from Captain Speirs make Lipton’s blood run hot. He has a feeling that the captain knows. Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect.

A/N: Someone on LLSS wanted speirton with ordering kink and body worship. Of course I picked that one up.

[Read on Ao3]

It was the Champagne that was at fault, that’s what Lipton decided long afterwards when all was said and done. The reverend of his church and his mother had been right about alcohol, it was indeed the drink that made him careless and dissipated and led to other sins, but in the end Lipton couldn’t bring himself to mind any of it. It would have been a lie to blame the drink, though. It had all started earlier, and Lipton couldn’t exactly pinpoint when.

Mourmelon, perhaps? In that miserable village of tents and endless practice drills and guard duty rotation and patrols, in the chilly and muddy February? “Lieutenant Lipton, patrol orders to the NCOs of Easy. See them delivered and brief the men.” “Lieutenant Lipton, inspect the roadblocks at eleven hundred hours. Report back to me.” “Lieutenant Lipton, I’ve scheduled second platoon for an all-night field problem. I’ve appointed you to lead it.” Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It seemed that Lipton said that a hundred times as slow, routine days rolled by, and more than winter frost melted from his limbs with them. Captain Speirs seemed to want to keep him close now that he had been promoted and trying his legs as an officer, and Lipton wondered if it was to show him the ropes or if it was the only thing he could think of now that he wasn’t First Sergeant anymore. Whatever the reason, Lipton was grateful as Speirs seemed to always have something to do and never let anything go to waste. It was also fascinating in a way, to get this close to “Bloody” Speirs, the man whose reputation preceded him among enlisted men and officers alike. Lipton hadn’t even thought about it at the time. He remembered Foy as a moment of despair, like being dangled over the edge of a cliff and slowly feeling his fingers giving out one by one, and then in a flurry of artillery and snow there had been Speirs, settings things to balance once again. Lipton had simply been happy to see him and followed him without a question. In that moment of despair on the edge of the annihilation Speirs had been just a good soldier, a leader worth following, and Lipton had. But afterwards, after Noville and Rachamps and Haguenau, Lipton too had to admit that there was something singular about Speirs. After all, he had met and served under several good officers, he had fought alongside many capable soldiers, but only orders from Speirs made him feel warm to his core. Only his harsh demanding voice made his heart beat faster, only obeying him made his blood run hot in his veins. For the most part, Lipton preferred not to think about it. It felt like one of those things you had to shove back into the back of your mind and ignore in order to survive, but he couldn’t decide if ignoring it was easier or harder now that Easy was in reserve. On one hand, rush and combat had perhaps hidden it from his thoughts before, but on the other now that he had realized it he felt like the safe routine of Mourmelon was the only thing keeping it under control, and he feared what would happen when they’d have to leave it behind. It was late March when Lipton was making his way out of the battalion mess after a long day of training replacements that were a worryingly large portion of Easy’s strength, when First Sergeant Talbert fell in step with him. “Hey, Lip! How’s it going, sir?” Talbert greeted him. “It’s going,” Lipton replied, his mind still sketching a timetable for training passable combat soldiers of their re-enforcements before they’d move out while only half listening to Talbert. “How are things with you?” “Well, that’s the thing,” Talbert said and awkwardly chuckled. “The men are great. Everything’s going well, we’ve been through our training and finally got our hands on good supplies too, I think Luz had something to do with that, and I’ve written this week’s report about it all…” It was all within the responsibilities of the First Sergeant and Lipton knew it well, as he knew that Talbert did too, and he wondered when the actual business would come in picture. It didn’t sound like your regular chatter, but if there was a question in there, Lipton couldn’t pick up on it. Talbert cleared his throat. “Well, I should go and submit that report to Captain Speirs.” That was the key comment, and Lipton guessed that was it, only he wasn’t willing to be the one to say it. “Yes, that’s correct. The week report needs to be delivered to the company CO. Do you know where Captain Speirs’ tent it?” “Yeah, I know,” Talbert said, a note of frustration in his tone, “and I have the report right here too.” He lifted a thin brown cardboard file that looked like it had exactly one sheet of paper inside. “It’s just that, you know how Speirs can be sometimes,” he said and gave Lipton a friendly nudge of the elbow. Lipton did know, but he was too amused to cut the chase. There weren’t too many fun things around the muddy camp, and struggling forward on the soft ground was less grating with some company. “I don’t, actually, Sergeant.” “He can be a bit, well,” Talbert struggled, drew his words on and hoped that Lipton would either take the hint or complete the sentence for him. But when he didn’t, Talbert finally dropped his clumsily tactful demeanour and said: “He can be a bit hard-headed, alright? Heard-headed and weirdly moody and obsessed with details, and I’m gonna be straight with you, Lip, I’d rather not take this report to him personally if I could avoid it.” Lipton wasn’t surprised in the slightest. A lot of people didn’t get along with Speirs, or preferred not to interact with him personally if there was any other option, and Talbert’s easy-going and friendly personality might have been a great match with Major Winters, but Captain Speirs probably read him as sloppy and unprofessional. “Captain Speirs is a demanding officer, I’m aware,” he said. “Yeah, let’s say that,” Talbert grumbled, but then lightened up. “But you can handle him, right? He likes you. I’d really appreciate if you could drop this report off for me, sir.” Lipton accepted the errand without further convincing needed, and Talbert was too busy being grateful to question why he’d do it. But it wasn’t like it was much extra trouble, Lipton was probably going to cross paths with his fellow officer anyway, and if he didn’t, their tents were relatively close to each other. It wasn’t strange, just a kindness, a happy coincidence. Speirs was in his tent when Lipton came by. The flap of the tent was up, and the captain was sitting at his desk, a flimsy thing that had been provided to all commanding officers and that took up half of the small tent, not that the narrow bunk needed much space anyway. There was nowhere to knock, so Lipton stopped by the entrance and cleared his throat. Speirs had an ink pen in hand and was writing a letter at impressive speed, but he stopped when he looked up. “Yes? What is it, Lieutenant?” he asked. Lipton lifted the file in his hand before stating his business. “Just dropping off some paperwork on behalf of First Sergeant Talbert, sir.” Speirs’ expression didn’t change, he just nodded and made no further questions, but beckoned Lipton inside. “Sure. Come in, Lieutenant.” “Yes, sir.” Speirs already had his hand extended when Lipton stood by his desk and handed the file over. He flipped it open, glanced over the report with a single wrinkle between his brows and turned it over once, finding the paper empty on the other side. He scoffed. “Only a single page for the whole week’s work? Really?” “I’m sure Sergeant Talbert included everything he felt was necessary,” Lipton said. Speirs gave him a look underneath his dark brows, hard and direct. “Are you now, Lieutenant?” he demanded. Lipton looked back. “Yes, sir.” “You have read the report, then?” “I haven’t, sir.” “Then how can you be sure of its quality?” Lipton didn’t know when he had fallen into parade rest, but presented with a direct question that required him to raise up to answer it made him aware of how he tensed up with his back straight and feet firmly planted on the ground, slightly apart. “I know Sergeant Talbert, and I can vouch for his expertise. If he has written a one-page report, then all that was needed is a one-page report.” Speirs stared at him for a moment quietly, evaluating him and probably his statement. His expression gave away nothing, neither good or bad, he simply looked and evaluated Lipton, then got up from the desk. He looked down at the report once again, seemingly read it over before closing the file and dropping it on his desk. Lipton stood where he was since he hadn’t been dismissed. After Speirs tossed the report he turned back to face him and leaned his hip against the desk, crossing his arms. The silence stretched on and Speirs kept looking at Lipton like he had all the time in the world and planned to use it. For what, that wasn’t clear, and Speirs didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let Lipton in on whatever his endgame was. “You vouch for your men readily, Lieutenant,” Speirs finally said, his tone neutral. Lipton answered honestly: “I know them, sir, and so I am able to.” “You submit their reports for them too, I see,” Speirs added, this time his tone slightly more pointed. His voice was still soft, conversational even, but it was clear he was probing for something. Lipton was on his guard, but there was nowhere to run or no way to avoid, besides there shouldn’t have been anything to hide. “Sergeant Talbert happened by and asked me to, and since it’s convenient, I dropped by,” he said. “Sergeant Talbert didn’t want to do it himself, did he.” It wasn’t really a question, but Lipton pretended not to hear that. “It was more convenient like this, sir.” Speirs gave a little hum, almost a scoff and regarded Lipton with hard eyes. His expression didn’t falter, nor did his crossed arms either tighten or loosen. One could have thought that he didn’t care where the conversation was going at all, even though his tone was getting stronger as he was drawing out information. “I know Sergeant Talbert finds me objectionable,” he said then, “it’s all right. The feeling is mutual.” Lipton didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, not even in a gesture. Speirs stared him directly in the eye. “But you, you I see pretty often, Lieutenant Lipton. You come by often.” That was a puzzling remark, and Lipton couldn’t quite keep it out of his voice. “You ask for me often, sir.” “Yes, I do. But even when I don’t, there you are. You don’t have a problem with me, then?” Something warm curled in Lipton’s chest and he had to suppress a smile. “No, I don’t have a problem with you, sir.” Nothing changed in Speirs’ expression, but something in his eyes did. Lipton had spent a lot of time looking in his eyes which were the only giveaway when for whatever reason Speirs decided to wall everyone out. There was an intent look in them now, something strong and focused and strangely heated, something that made Lipton want to squirm – not with discomfort, but out of some sort of coyness that he hadn’t ever felt before. “Lieutenant, close the flap,” Speirs ordered starkly. Lipton was moving before he even knew it, not questioning the order or wonder about it. When the flap of the tent fell, they were left in the glow of a bright lantern that made the green fabric glow. “Come back here,” Speirs said then. Lipton did, assuming his previous position of parade rest with his hands behind his back before Speirs who was still leaning against the desk. With the flap closed the tent felt smaller, more intimate somehow. Private. “Take one step closer,” Speirs said. Lipton did, even though the movement took him too close to his captain. They weren’t quite toe to toe, but too close to be simply within conversational distance. All Speirs would have to do to touch him would be to unfold and reach his arm, which he did a moment later. Lipton drew in a careful breath when Speirs’ hand landed on the side of his face, fingertips light like a breath on his scars. They still held eye contact like that was the only way they could actually communicate, and Lipton searched Speirs’ intently, seeing the previously detected heat burn and turn darker. Dangerous, this man was. “You have acquired quite a few battle scars,” Speirs noted as if they were discussing the details of a report, his fingertips ghosting across Lipton’s facial scars. “A few, yes, sir,” Lipton replied and was surprised to hear his voice almost level if a little soft. “Anywhere else than here?” Speirs asked. “Yes, sir,” Lipton said. “On my neck, on my arm, and on my – “ He realized what he was going to have to say with the words already on his tongue and what that might prompt when Speirs was brushing at the scars he could see. At the same time Lipton also realized that even though his voice was level, his breathing was off. He had taken a deep breath when he had stepped forward and that had turned into his new rhythm of rapid, deep inhales that he could hear too loud in his ear. “ – on my inner thigh, sir.” Speirs’ head tilted to the side in a slow arch, but his gaze never wandered or lost its focus. Lipton swallowed, fiddled with his hands behind his back some. “You’re such a valuable soldier. I’ll have to inspect you sometime, just to check up on you,” Speirs murmured. It could have been a threat or promise, and Lipton found himself wishing that in either case it wouldn’t be idle. For a moment longer Speirs stared at him, held his gaze in a manner that made Lipton feel like he was supposed to say something, but then he let his hand drop and the flame went out in his eyes. “But not today, Lieutenant,” he said, once again neutral and noncommittal, already moving on from the situation like it hadn’t even existed. “You’re dismissed.” Once again, it was easy to follow the order. “Sir,” he hoarsely recognized before he let his feet carry himself out of the tent on automation. Chilly March air was like a sobering splash to his face after the warm tent, that Lipton only outside of it realized had smelled like Speirs. Regardless of when it had started, it took a stark turn after that evening in Mourmelon, as did many other things. There was a vague yet constant feeling of pressure lifting. It was frustrating to just go through the motions and loiter around and train endlessly for what felt like nothing, but no one missed combat. They moved out from Mourmelon to Germany in April, driven in trucks through German countryside, met only weak resistance and mostly cleared towns and set up roadblocks and checkpoints. Lipton kept his post and continued to assist the company commander while acting as a willing link between the NCOs and the CO. Whatever had transpired between them in the tent in Mourmelon seemed to be gathered up and packed away with their equipment. Lipton kept following Speirs and Speirs kept requesting his presence, and even though on the surface it was all everyday army life, proper and professional, something had changed underneath. Lipton could see it in his Captain’s eyes every now and then, how they lingered on him when they shared a Jeep, how that intense heat sometimes flared up when they were alone, and how Speirs kept favouring his personal attendance over any runner or radio messages. Speirs kept him close, somehow more tightly than before, and Lipton let him. Something mellowed in him when the captain told him to follow or go, to join him or do something for him, and the best days were when many small errands needed doing and he got to hear the simple “come here, Lieutenant” several times. Getting to obey and please the captain felt like slipping into a warm bath, and those ordinary busy days were full of tingling contentment that relaxed Lipton’s shoulders and flushed his skin warm. Sometimes he wondered if Speirs knew what he was doing to him, and at times when he caught his keen eyes on him he was sure he had an idea. He wondered if it really had started in Foy, and if it had been a mistake how he had simply joined Speirs by his side, close up without any reservations or backup whatsoever. Nearly everyone else sensed something strong and dangerous about Speirs and knew to stay away, but Lipton had ignored all the warning signs and glued himself to the captain’s side, ending up inside that aura of danger. Maybe it had been a mistake. But nothing happened. Nothing was said or even hinted at, and although Lipton understood why considering they were constantly on the move and surrounded by other officers and trying to keep Easy company together and somewhat out of trouble, he was still disappointed. All they had was their professional familiarity, proximity by necessity, and silent looks that lasted just a few seconds too long. It felt like a standoff. V-E day was full of soaring relief and boundless happiness. With the help of ten thousand bottles of the finest wine and liquor, Easy company celebrated their survival and the end of all horrors for several days, sprawling into a week. One party seemed to simply blend into another, and even if they were technically still on duty, there was not a single sober man, enlisted or officer, willing to hold them to the regular standard. It was impossible to control everything in that little Alpine paradise, and even though they did keep up with the necessities such as supplies and road blocks, especially the evenings were full of wild merriment, more or less contained in the houses of the deserted town. On Saturday new supplies arrived, and Colonel Sink hosted a party for all the officers at the extravagant hotel that resembled a lodge in a brutal sort of way. There were fine rugs on the floors, red velvet in the halls and all the furniture along with walls and staircases were dark wood with heavy decorations, but then there were stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls, creating a strange mixture of fine art and death. After supplies catching up with them there was good food, things that Lipton hadn’t seen in ages such as roasted meat that was served hot and crunchy vegetables. With them Champagne and liquor flowed freely and the merriment of the men kept the eerie feeling from the stuffed animal carcasses at bay and warmed the entire building. The doors were open, and even though the party was intended for the officers, several soldiers without bars in their collars strolled through to sample the goods. It was almost midnight. Lipton had been dragged along by Welsh and Nixon who had both wanted to eat and drink and show their junior officer a good time, and even though he had felt reluctant to join them, a few cups of Champagne later he was happy he had come. Some senior NCOs came by too, and Lipton got swept into the merry group of Talbert, Grant, Moore and Liebgott who had decided to snoop around the officers’ party and maybe sneak in for a bit. They were in the middle of a playful debate about it when someone called out for him. “Lieutenant Lipton.” The tone was familiar and his body recognized it before his thoughts caught up, his back straightening and cheeks flushing. He turned around. Speirs looked like he was off-duty, but just slightly. His hair was smooth and neatly kempt, he was wearing his good brown uniform jacket that had been washed, his shirt was neat and his tie tugged in, but the top button of his shirt was undone and his jacket open. “Captain Speirs,” Lipton said. “Come with me, Lieutenant,” Speirs ordered promptly, ignoring the enlisted men completely, “I need you.” “Yes, sir,” Lipton agreed right away, turned to throw one last glance at his buddies who looked back with grimaces and pitying eyes. Lipton wished he could have laughed openly at their misplaced sympathy, but that would not have been wise, and besides he had a long ago learned to feel privileged and happy with him alone knowing the captain’s true thoughts. He followed Speirs through the crowd and to the stairs without any further questions. The second floor of the hotel had become almost as crowded as the first with several gambling tables and drinking games set up there. Someone had found a record player and instead of German classics that every household seemed to have was playing The Andrews Sisters. Speirs led Lipton up the stairs to the third floor, where the crowd was rapidly dwindling. A few men who preferred to simply converse rather than join the partying of the lower floors were sitting at the steps, and none of them paid Speirs and Lipton a single glance as they passed. A captain from another company had fallen asleep on the steps with a wine bottle cuddled in his arms and his head resting on a step. The third floor was deserted, and as soon as they got out of the stairs and took down to the hallway, Speirs reached behind him and took Lipton’s hand. His hand squeezed, and Lipton squeezed back. Speirs picked up his pace from a confident stroll to almost a jog, turning the corner and taking them even further from the party, then seemingly at random darting towards one of the doors. He pulled Lipton into one of the hotel rooms, leading him by the hand and ushering him inside, then throwing the door shut behind them. They were in a large one-room suite, a large, comfortable room with soft carpeted floor, antique-looking oak panelling and furniture to match. There was large hulking dresser with brass handles, a few armchairs and a writing desk with a single green-shaded lamp that was on. The windows had red velvet curtains that had been drawn, and behind the lounging area there was a bulky double bed. The lock clicked in the door, and Lipton was reminded of a flap of a tent. Speirs brushed against him in a manner that could have passed for accidental, then continued his way to the writing desk that was set in the middle of the room like a space-divider. He turned around, leaned against the desk and regarded Lipton, who just now realized he was locked inside a private room with the captain whose eyes had that uncanny flame he usually hid. Lipton assumed the parade rest just to appease that fire. “Lieutenant. Come here and stand before me, at ease.” Lipton didn’t see a reason to reply, just did as he was told. He felt suddenly alert in a way he associated with field duty. “You are truly a valuable asset to this company. I have been very pleased with you.” Lipton didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. This didn’t seem to be to Speirs’ liking, because his expression hardened and he said: “Answer me when I’m speaking to you.” Lipton felt a shudder go down his spine, a thrilled and pleasant one. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Speirs relaxed again, content like a cat. “Come here.” It felt like a small eternity when Lipton crossed the floor. His boots made no sound on the soft carpet, but each step was heavy and dragged on like he was treading in deep water, and all the while Speirs watched him, keen and shameless. Lipton stopped before him at a distance he would have if they were simply talking. Somehow pretending like nothing was out of the ordinary added to the tickling flame that had been lit in his belly at the first command, or even perhaps from the moment when Speirs had taken his hand. “I promised I would inspect your condition once, didn’t I, Lieutenant?” Speirs said, playing along with the normalcy as well. He could have been giving a briefing or reporting nothing new from his patrol. “You did, yes, sir,” Lipton agreed, matching his tone. “Take your boots off, Lieutenant.” Lipton crouched down to follow the order. His jumpboots hadn’t been this clean in a while and he was proud to have himself together, but right now they were only an obstacle to be put aside. He wasn’t about to be evaluated based on his uniform. One boot came loose, then the other, and Lipton took his socks off while at it, stuffing one in each boot before setting them neatly aside and standing up straight again. Speirs was watching him still, so keenly that it felt impossible that he had glanced aside even for a second. It was an astonishing thought to consider that something so simply as taking his boots off for him gained Speirs’ undivided attention for him, and Lipton shivered pleasantly at it. Speirs leaned more heavily on the desk, almost a mirror image of himself back at Mourmelon in that yellow-green glow. He extended one foot forward. “Now mine.” Lipton’s mouth went dry in an instant, but the demand in Speirs’ voice didn’t leave any room for hesitation or refusal. He crossed the polite distance between them, less and less soft carpet between them, and stopped just short from bumping knees with the captain. For a second they shared a look, Lipton’s wide-open eyes meeting Speirs’ fierce ones. He fell on his knees. It wasn’t a difficult task to undo Captain Speirs’ jumpboots as they were exactly the same ones Lipton wore down to the same size, but just kneeling there on the floor and doing something like that for him, that was a treat. He undid the laces and pulled them loose, then grabbed the boot by the heel and the outsole and pulled it off, then peeled the sock off like he had done to himself. Speirs helpfully offered his other foot for the same treatment, and Lipton took in in his lap to deliver. Speirs had calloused feet just like every soldier, surprisingly sleek ankles and wiry hair starkly black against his pale skin. “That’s good,” Speirs murmured, gently pulling his foot free from Lipton’s hold. “Now stand up and give me a kiss.” Lipton’s stomach did a flip at that and it took him a moment to collect himself enough to put his feet under himself again. While kneeling down he had had an excuse not to look at Speirs, but when he stood he had to raise his gaze too, and when he locked eyes with the captain again he saw his fierce eyes and mouth just a bit agape, anticipating. To kiss someone was a simple enough command, but with Speirs he didn’t know exactly what he wanted. He had waited for this inspection for so long while also keeping it in the back of his mind that Lipton now found himself unprepared, never having kissed a man in his life, and the list of girls kissed a short one as well. Speirs waited for him. He had given an order and he expected it to be followed, so he just sat there in his relaxed yet taunting manner, ready for anything and expecting the best, and suddenly Lipton couldn’t take the single-minded scourge of his eyes anymore. Quickly he leaned in close, closed his eyes and kissed his captain, at the last second avoiding his mouth and instead going for the corner of it, pressing his lips there quickly. He felt like a boy being dared, and despite how juvenile and chaste the contact was, his heart thumped in his throat. He felt a hint of stubble against his lips. He pulled back, biting his own lip. He felt torn between having done something unspeakable but also ridiculously inoffensive, and when he met Speirs’ gaze again he saw the feelings reflected back at him. “You can do better than that, Lieutenant.” Even with his cheeks rosy and heated, Lipton rose up to the challenge and dived in again, his hands trembling when they came to rest against Speirs’ collar, and lips uncertain but determined when he claimed his captain’s mouth in a kiss. This time Speirs met him in the middle like he wanted to be sure he didn’t miss again, and the result was perfect. He kissed with force and passion, pressing in and parting his lips like he wanted to bite, and suddenly Lipton felt challenged. He returned everything he got, letting his desire take the lead. “Oh…” Speirs breathed between them. It was a strange sound, a barely audible mixture of pleasant surprise and lust, the ordinary and indecent blending together in one greedy breath, and then his hands moved up to take a hold of Lipton’s jaw and the back of his neck, angling him so he could kiss him deeper. When they parted, they were both out of breath. Speirs kept his hands where they were, holding Lipton by his neck with his fingers idly slipping into his hair. “Take your clothes off,” Speirs grunted. With his hands clammy, Lipton obeyed. Speirs pushed him just at arm’s length to watch him as he did, and his gaze burned so hot on his skin that the room didn’t even feel chilly. Lipton took off his cap and his jacket, placing both on the chair by the desk. He untangled the knot of his tie and pulled it off, then turned his attention to his buttons. Speirs’ eyes watched his fingers like a hawk, and just as predatory. He undid his cuffs, then started from his collar and moved down, undoing every button until he could slip his shirt off, leaving him in his undershirt. Speirs said nothing, just let his eyes roam and take in everything that was bared. His teeth grazed his bottom lip briefly. Lipton pulled his undershirt from his trousers and over his head, sending it to the growing pile of clothing on the chair. When he moved to undo his belt buckle, his hands happened close enough to his groin to notice he was already half hard. He felt himself blushing, a bit stunned, and his fingers felt that much clumsier when he started to open his trousers. He hadn’t even noticed himself growing aroused, he had been too busy being sunken into the sweet bliss of obeying, and now that he was about to reveal his state to be observed by Speirs’ keen eyes, he almost faltered in embarrassment. He risked a glance at Speirs and was shocked to realize that he had already noticed, which was evident in his downcast eyes and openly yearning expression. “Good. Good, keep going,” Speirs urged him, his voice low as he shifted rigidly, his calm façade slipping. Lipton pushed his trousers down and stepped out of them. On a strange impulse, or perhaps delaying the inevitable, he folded them neatly before putting them over the back of the chair. His breath was coming out short and quick now that there was only one article of clothing left. He pushed his thumbs under the elastic band of his underwear, then slowly inched them down his hips, and legs until he could discard them too. Speirs shifted again, almost compulsively. Lipton straightened up again, fully nude, skittish on his feet and his cheeks flaming, but still eager. Speirs took a long look at him, all the way from his toes and legs up his belly and chest before finally coming back to his face. If the look in his eyes had been heated a moment ago, it was positively scalding now, and there was naked desire there. “You are stunning,” he breathed. He moved like something had snapped, like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, and in a second he was in Lipton’s space where he caught him in his arms and kissed him like he intended to devour him. Lipton gasped into the kiss and Speirs pressed in closer. He tasted faintly of whiskey and cigarettes, a strong, smoky aftertaste that Lipton didn’t mind at all. Speirs held him fast by the back of his neck as they sunk into the rhythm of their kiss. It was like diving, sinking into the swirling depths that took your breath away and muffled all sounds around you. Speirs’ hands moved. Their grasp let go and they slipped on the move, strong and greedy, conquering skin and flesh. They caressed his back, warm palms kneading into the muscle and fingers stretching to draw the edges of his shoulder blades before slipping down, making Lipton curl his body towards Speirs. Speirs’ thumbs caught in the small dips in the small of Lipton’s back before sliding to grasp his hips, a commanding, firm hold that made Lipton give a stuttering whine and buck forward, rubbing his naked body against Speirs’ uniform, distantly wondering if he was making a mess there. The wool scratched his skin, but underneath it Speirs’ body burned hot and inviting and the man gave a low groan when their hips rubbed together, fully hard in his pants and fingers grasping tighter. Then suddenly, Speirs pulled back from the kiss and left Lipton blinking in confusion. He opened his eyes to meet Speirs’. “I want you in bed, now,” he told him. “Yes, sir,” Lipton breathed in return, not even noticing the title and already moving. They stumbled across the floorspace, Lipton backwards as Speirs pushed him by the hips, until they fell on the bed. Speirs handled him with confidence, and he found himself yielding with terrifying ease until he was almost fully on his side with Speirs pressed against him from behind, arms around him and mouth against his neck. Speirs hadn’t even loosened his tie, but his mouth was hot and insistent, his teeth ever present on Lipton’s neck, and his hard-on bore against his ass through the rough material of his trousers. Lipton arched back against him and earned himself a moan. “Christ, you drive me insane,” Speirs growled against his neck, greedy hands all over Lipton. “Uh-huh,” in a breathless grunt was all Lipton could manage. Speirs was making good of his words with his hands, stroking and palming him without restraint. His hands stroked his chest, palms curving along his muscles, thumbs nudging against his lowest rib and then stroking upwards until his fingers could circle and toy with his nipples. Lipton squirmed and panted under the treatment, not knowing what to make of the burning touch but having nowhere to go because Speirs held him in an ironclad grasp, firmly pressed along his back. He had no other option but to lie there, belly up and held tight and take it, take all that vicious tenderness, that thorough exploration of his body, and whimper and moan. Speirs’ wonderful, dangerous hands pet his skin and kneaded the muscles, then stroked lower down his belly, affectionately caressing everything they touched, then reached even lower down his naval, fingers stroking through pubic hair. Speirs’ breath was coming in deep, concentrated puffs like he was running uphill. “Spread your thighs for me.” Lipton shuddered and hurried to follow the command, bending his knee and pulling it up, opening his legs in a form of sharp v. Speirs let out a shuddering sigh, a sound of admiration, and his fingers slipped on the smooth, soft skin on Lipton’s inner thighs. There was the scar, the rugged ugly reminder of a close-call, and Speirs traced it carefully before lavishing the tender skin with merciless attention. “You like that, don’t you? When I tell you what to do?” There was absolutely no reason to lie, and Lipton felt no shame. “Yeah,” he sighed. In a bizarrely animalistic manner of affection, Speirs licked the corner of his mouth, then lapped at his lower lip. “I knew it,” he rasped, “I knew it.” It was deliciously decadent how Speirs was still fully dressed, but it seemed that he also had a plan in mind. His hands let go of him for a second, and a few seconds later Lipton heard a pop of a metallic lid. Then there were fingers on him, between his legs and drawing behind, and just like that he was touched on his entrance, then inside. There was copious amount of jelly of some sort coating Speirs’ fingers, thick and warm and slippery, easing the penetration and making everything feel so so soft. Being fingered felt like nothing else ever. There were no words, there was no comparison, there was only this entirely new, alien feeling of his body opening, being spread open and caressed from the inside. The lubricant warmed up quickly and was so thick it didn’t leak or spill over but left him feeling tended to and wet. Ready. Speirs had two fingers of his right hand inside Lipton and his other arm wrapped tightly around Lipton’s chest, keeping him still as well as he could. It was bizarre, how strong his hold was but how smooth and soft his touch was, firm and as demanding as everything else about him, but his fingers curled and caressed and made his body yield. Lipton realized he was making a punched-out humming sound every time the fingers pumped inside. There was something building inside of him, a heavy heat he hadn’t ever felt before, couldn’t even have imagined before this. Then the finger gave one last twisting thrust, stilled and pulled out. “You can undress me now,” Speirs said straight in his ear, wet lips brushing against the shell of it. He had to gather his wits for a moment, but then Lipton turned to Speirs. His captain looked more dishevelled than he had ever seen him, a mess he had made of him, his cheeks red and sweaty, his hair out of place and his red lips draw slightly back, revealing his teeth. Even with weak, trembling fingers Lipton made quick work of Speirs’ uniform, undoing button after button under his dark gaze, then pushing the shirt from his shoulders. The undershirt followed, and after that the belt was unbuckled and pulled out of the loops, the sound of leather against the rough fabric loud in the room. He pulled down the fly, and Speirs shifted helpfully when he pulled the trousers along with his underwear down his thighs and legs and finally completely off. Speirs naked and aroused was a breath-taking sight that made his heart race. He was brawny in a wiry sort of way, strong but still lithe, his body hair was black against his skin that was flushed with arousal, and he basked under his partner’s gaze shamelessly and completely comfortable with himself. Lipton hadn’t even realized how he stared until Speirs broke the spell by leaning towards him again and laying a hand on his collarbone. There was no playfulness or patience left in Speirs’ gaze now, his expression was intent and greedy. “I want you back against me, back to my chest. Now,” he said, almost whispered, and without a question Lipton crawled back into his hold. From a storey below them the record player was playing a bright swing tune that sounded muffled in their room. It would forever be the song that played during his first time. His first time like this, his first time being taken by another man. It felt heavenly and striking at the same time, overwhelming in a way that threatened to turn into fear and bring him to tears, but Speirs was slow and steady, a constant that held him together through it. They breathed together and took the plunge, hands momentarily clasped together. They fit together. Their bodies curled and rocked together, finding a rhythm as natural as heartbeat. Lipton could only let his body chase the pleasure. He had been wound up so carefully and completely that there wasn’t a single clear thought left in his mind, he was perfectly within his body that wanted pleasure, wanted to keep winding and mounting the building heat until it would all burst into ecstasy. He had his head leaned back on Speirs shoulder, the leg he couldn’t bear to hold up anymore thrown over his thighs while his hips rocked back against the other man, his spine in an almost painful curve. He needed something, he needed something more, something his feverish mind couldn’t quite grasp. “Sir – “ he gasped without any idea what he wanted to say. Speirs gave a breathless groan at the title and his hips bore home more viciously. “Oh god, you’re so sweet… So, so sweet…” Lipton felt powerful then, in how he had lured Speirs to him, just as attractive to him as he had been to him. Speirs breathed into his neck, mouthing the sweaty skin and grazing with his teeth, as ravenous as ever. “I’ve been trying to get you alone for a month. You’re just so – oh Christ – so… so…” There didn’t seem to be a word fitting for whatever he wanted to communicate, and it was like his body was trying to speak instead: he thrust harder, grinding in deep, rubbing against all the right places, and Lipton understood. Speirs kissed his neck and then his jaw, open-mouthed and messy. “Do you want to come?” Something dark flared inside Lipton’s chest, an eagerness that turned him trembling and pliant and urged him reach behind him for the other, his hand curling around a hip as if it was possible to pull the other even closer. “Yes! Yes, please!” “Yes… What?” And damn him, there was a lucid streak in that, a wicked joy in the game, and Lipton wanted to play. “Yes, sir. Please, sir,” Lipton cried out. Speirs seemed to know exactly what he needed. His lips pressed into his hairline in the back of his neck while he rolled them just so that he could press him down and thrust into him harder. His movements were rough but fluid, and finally he pushed his hand between Lipton’s legs and curled his fingers around his achingly hard cock. “Go ahead and come then,” he urged. It was a matter of seconds, then. Pinned down under the weight of the other, trapped between a deft hand and grinding hips, writhing and flexing and a rough command still in his ears, it was so good it almost ached, and Lipton came with a keen he muffled into the comforter. He could do nothing, only shake through his release that made his whole body thrash and tremble, and then just collapse when the overflowing ecstasy washed over him. Speirs rode his release out with him and kept fucking him through it, keeping the high going until every last drop of it was drained and it turned into deep satisfaction. The heat finally died down, leaving behind only bone-deep warmth. Lipton couldn’t bring himself to move. He just lay where he had ended up, not even bothering to close his legs. He hadn’t even realized that Speirs had climaxed at some point, but only became aware of something wet dripping down the backs of his thighs, and then Speirs flopped down next to him on his back with a heavy sigh. It got quiet in the room. They lay side by side where they had collapsed, shoulders brushing and breathing slowly evening out. The muffled sounds of the party became clearer, music and conversation too far away to make out words with sudden bursts of roaring laughter or hollering when the mood soared or a game was won. A glass broke somewhere. The record player was playing a soft romantic tune where a sweet female voice crooned probably about an absent lover or missing home. With some amusement Lipton realised they hadn’t even pulled back the covers, just fallen on top of them and then been too preoccupied with each other to even make use of the pillows. Speirs’ clothes were in a bundle on the floor, and Lipton remembered his own folded over a chair by the desk. With a huff that had a spark of amusement over their absurd current situation Lipton rolled over onto his back, ending up pressed against Speirs’ side. He turned to look at the man besides him, who was languidly stretched out and still basking in his own afterglow. As Lipton looked, Speirs tilted his head to the side to him. Their eyes met and Speirs gave him a small smile, then turned on his side to face him and lay one hand on his chest, the backs of his fingers stroking his collarbone. All that had been dark and dangerous about him seemed to have melted away, and without his uniform Captain Speirs was just a man. His eyes were warm and his gaze as gentle as his hand caressing his chest, but even sated and lazy he was focused. Lipton looked back, trying to understand the thoughts behind the look but coming up empty. “Don’t be scared,” Speirs muttered. Lipton blinked. “I’m not. Why would I be?” he asked, baffled. Speirs took a deep breath and smiled, satisfied with the answer. He shook his head a little, then leaned closer to kiss Lipton’s shoulder. “It’s nothing,” he said and kissed him again, then sighed so quietly that Lipton wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t felt it on his skin. “We can’t stay here for long, but give me a moment. Just a minute.” Lipton turned onto his side to face Speirs and mourned when the hand on his chest fell on the covers between them. He didn’t like the distance in Speirs’ voice, the hinted apology and reassurances as if he needed any of it. It made him feel that all that had happened between them, not just now but everything (since Mourmelon, since Haguenau, since Foy) before was about to be left in this room, and he didn’t like it. He had gotten himself close to Speirs, across the distance and inside his defences, and he wasn’t about to be expelled now. Now that Speirs wasn’t touching him anymore he fixed the problem by reaching over to touch him instead, his hand ending up on his side, feeling the hard plane of the ribcage and letting his hand drift lower to the mild curve of his waist. He was soft and warm there, drying sweat and the rise and fall of breathing signs of life under his palm. “I’ll give you anything you want,” Lipton muttered, his hand moving from Speirs’ waist and around him, and then crawled in closer to the inviting heat of his body. Speirs sighed, something unreadable in his eyes, and smiled, sweet and relieved, and shook his head again even when he returned the affection and pulled Lipton into his arms. He let Lipton rest his head on his bicep, both arms around him in a secure embrace. “You are so…” Lipton waited for him to finally finish the sentence. After a heavy pause Speirs seemed to give up on it, huffed and cast his eyes down. When he looked up again, he had a spark in his eyes and he brought his hand up to Lipton’s face, smoothed a few overgrown strands of hair from his face, then curled along his jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

#speirton #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #can of lemons #mun ficci

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icyharrington · 6 years

Text

Sinful Thoughts (Michael Langdon X Reader) Part 2

click here for part 1 // tag list: (sorry if I forgot anyone!) @fuckthatfeeling @shado-cat @hxdesworld @the-captain-kidd @mrs-langdxn @natalielivesformusic

plot: you’re the epitome of a good christian girl. michael langdon intends to ruin that.

warnings: fem!Reader, high school au, fingering, michael is kind of a dick in this but in a hot way, u get finger fucked in a janitor’s closet oopsy😋

word count: 3.6k

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice sounded foreign, like you were listening to yourself talk from another room. You swallowed a sudden wave of nausea as you waited for the priest to reply from behind the screen. “And how is it that you have sinned, my child?” The man’s voice was patient and calm. It didn’t make you feel any better.

You let out a shuddery sigh before responding. “I’ve been having bad thoughts. Sinful thoughts, father. Desires of the flesh...”

“I see. And have you succumbed to any of these thoughts?”

“No,” you said. Not yet, anyway. You considered this answer to only be a half-truth, as recently you’d been finding yourself grinding against your chair absentmindedly in class, watching that awful blond boy from across the room. You hadn’t touched yourself to any thoughts, at least not voluntarily, but you had a sneaking feeling that you were very, very close to breaking.

The last straw had been this morning. You’d been preoccupied in class, as usual, eyes glazed over as images of Michael Langdon’s hands danced in your mind, when suddenly there was a hollow pit in your stomach. You’d jumped to your feet and hurried to the girl’s bathroom, immediately holing yourself up in a stall to squeeze your thighs together and will away the thoughts that were bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

Once you’d managed to coax the feeling away, you bowed your head and recited a few prayers. God had to be testing your will— that was the only explanation you could think of that made any sort of sense. You’d always had such remarkable self-control, but you could feel it dwindling with every lude thought that crossed your mind. You had to admit, though: divine test or not, you were beginning to frighten yourself.

“Good, my child. Now recite three Hail Marys and you shall be forgiven.”

Your face fell. “Seriously? What am I supposed to do about this? I mean, I can’t think about anything but this one boy!”

The priest’s voice suddenly assumed a tone that was far more casual than wise and all-knowing. “Honestly, kid, there’s a lot worse things than having a couple dirty thoughts every now and then.”

You went slack-jawed, staring at the shadowy figure of the priest with disbelief. Was he really being serious? Did he really not have any kind of solution to offer for your problem? You huffed, discouraged, and without another word you left the confessional booth, letting the door slam shut behind you. Maybe he’s right, came a hopeful whisper in your mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you just touched a little...

You shook your head as if to erase the thought like an etch-a-sketch. No way. You couldn’t. You’d gone your whole life without giving in to your desires, so why start now? It’s a test, you told yourself firmly. God is testing me.

You pushed open the double doors of the church and walked into the parking lot, the sky navy blue and sprinkled with stars. You sighed, walking briskly as you started the fifteen minute journey home.

You’d hoped that going to the confessional would make you feel better, or enlighten you somehow. Instead, it had only heightened your confusion and distress. You pulled your jacket tighter to you as a soft breeze blew your hair back, footsteps erratic on the sidewalk as you hoped to shorten your walk through the cold.

Crunch. You stopped so suddenly you nearly lost your balance, whipping around as your heart jumped in your throat. It sounded as if somebody had stepped on a dead leaf on the ground behind you, but you’d been certain you were alone.

The sidewalk was empty. Not even a car was in sight. You scanned the premises anxiously before turning back around, quickening your pace. It was all in your head, you told yourself. You only made it a few more yards before you were interrupted again, this time by the sound of scurrying behind you, so clear there was no way you could’ve imagined it. You stopped, mumbling a desperate prayer and stroking your necklace, before gingerly turning around.

Nothing. The streets and sidewalk were empty. The streetlights cast eerie shadows down the uneven cement, overgrown with weeds and grass, but there was nobody there. What the hell? You thought, before scolding yourself for swearing.

You let out a panicked whimper, your body numbing from a mixture of fear and cold, and reluctantly you turned back around. You took in an indulgent breath, counting to three in your head before exhaling. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head. It’s all-

You let out a strangled scream as a gloved hand found its way over your mouth, your body being pulled into a makeshift alley between two parallel fences. Immediately you were pressed hard against the old, splintering wood behind you, your flailing limbs tamed effortlessly by your assailant.

Then you heard a laugh. A very familiar laugh, at that. Your attacker removed his hand from your mouth, taking a step back, and even though it was dark you could recognize those angular features.

“Michael, what the- what the hell is wrong with you?” You managed, and you watched him grin at your natural reluctance to swear. A tear dropped from the corner of your eye and slid down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away with the back of your sleeve.

“I was going for a walk when I saw you, and I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“The opportunity to make me think I was about to be raped? Or murdered?” Your words came out at much more of a shrill pitch than you’d intended, and your body continued to shake from the leftover terror.

“Shhh,” he cooed, reaching a leather-clad hand to your jaw and tenderly wiping away the tears that continued to spill, forming dark spots on the front of your sweater. Even though you glared at Michael with contempt, that dreaded sinking feeling returned in your stomach upon having his hand against your skin.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, crossing your arms in front of you protectively.

“You say that,” he began, that stupid smirk giving way across his perfect lips, “but your thoughts are sending me a very different message.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Hm,” he laughed dryly, thumb still working away the glassy stains on your skin. Then he brought his face close to yours, so close that his words caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. “Tell me about your dream.”

You gaped at him. He couldn’t possibly be talking about...? “What dream?”

He shook his head, appearing somewhat annoyed with you. “When will you accept that I know everything about you, (y/n)? Your thoughts, desires, dreams.” You faltered under the weight of his stare, unsure if your lack of motion was due to some sort of supernatural hold, or your own free will. “So, (y/n),” he said, lips brushing your ear and making you shiver. “Tell me about the dream you had.”

“You’re crazy,” you said, pressing yourself as far back against the fence as you could in a feeble attempt to escape his presence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t remember? Waking up with your panties soaked through? Using every last shred of strength to stop yourself from touching that one part of you that’s off-limits.” You blinked at him, and again came that ache beneath your undergarments, demanding your attention.

“You remember.” He placed his fingers under your chin and tilted it upwards. “Don’t you?”

You nodded, an act of betrayal against yourself. “How did- how could you know?” you stammered, shallow breaths escaping you as you fought to keep your composure.

“I’m more powerful than any god you could ever dream of,” he told you, lifting one hand to your hair and petting it.

“That’s a lie.”

He tilted his head to one side, lips twitching upwards at the corners. He was loving this, the way you studied his every move with fear and lust behind your eyes. He darted his tongue out and ran it along his bottom lip, and you nearly whined at the way the moisture glinted in the dark. “But it isn’t, (y/n), and you know it isn’t.”

You glared at him, all at once frustrated with yourself for playing into his games, and without a second thought your palm was hot against his cheek, his skin icy from the nighttime chill. Your eyes wide, you brought your quivering hand back to your side, immediately regretting what you’d done. In the low light, you could almost swear his eyes were entirely black, glossy like a raven’s wings.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, our lord is with thee,” you choked, afraid. “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, J-J-“ You gasped for air, realizing that your throat was being constricted as your body inched upwards against the fence. Michael’s hands, however, weren’t touching you; your feet left the ground and you continued upwards as if by magic, dragged by an invisible force that also managed to prevent you from breathing.

“M-Mi-Michael,” you begged, your hands grasping senselessly at your throat. “P-pl-“ your mouth opened and closed frantically as your legs dangled uselessly below you.

He chuckled to himself before casually flicking his wrist, and suddenly you dropped back onto the ground, chest heaving as you took in a gulp of much needed air. Waves of blond hair falling over his face as he bent over to reach your level, he spoke with a twinge of sadistic amusement. “Are you ready to submit?”

All you could do was look at him, entirely speechless, and his lips curved up into a triumphant grin. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, (y/n).”

Without another word, he strode out of the alley and into the night, leaving you alone to deal with your thoughts.

ii.

All morning at school that next day, you compulsively checked the clock with a lump in your throat. Your stomach was unable to stop its incessant churning as you anticipated your inevitable crossing of paths with Michael later that day. You couldn’t shake the feelings of fear- fear for what he was, as it was blatantly apparent to you now that he wasn’t fully human- and arousal, and the combination of the two emotions was intoxicating.

You knew it wouldn’t be long before you unraveled in the palms of his ring-clad hands. There was just something about him that you couldn’t shake, and you thought maybe it’d be better for everyone if you just gave in to your desires.

You hated that you’d been brought to the point of nearly giving up- you’d been so strong until you met him. What was it about him that was powerful enough to change you?

When the time came to go to biology, you were forced to evaluate your options: the first was showing up and pretending like nothing was wrong, even though you knew Michael would be reading your thoughts all the same. The other was the more cowardly option- hiding out in a secluded part of the school while skipping the class altogether.

Michael would know that he’d won if you didn’t show up for class, something so out of character for someone as studious as you. You knew this. But wouldn’t he know either way that he’d gotten under your skin? He already seemed to be in tune with your every thought. Was there even any use pretending that you hadn’t been affected by him?

In the end, you wound up finding yourself hidden out in the janitor’s closet, knees drawn to your chest as you scrolled through your phone. Sure, it was the easy way out. But you were beginning to suspect that there would be no escaping Michael whether or not you went to class.

Sitting awkwardly amongst the mops and cleaning supplies, your heart jumped as the doorknob began jiggling gently.

You bit your bottom lip. You knew who was behind that door. It’d already been on the back of your mind that Michael might know where to find you, but your teeth began chattering in apprehensive excitement all the same. You watched the lock turn by itself- again, you’d known there was the chance that he could bypass whatever obstacles you put between the two of you. Every time he proved his supernatural powers to be more than a figment of your imagination, though, it managed to surprise you.

The lock clicked, and then the door was opening, a thin stream of light from the fluorescent-lit hallways cutting through the dimness of the closet. And then there was Michael with his beautiful hair and black jacket and expensive pants, towering over you as you became engulfed in his shadow.

He looked at you wryly, taking a step inside and shutting the door sensibly behind himself. “Is there a reason you’re in a dusty closet instead of biology class?”

Your fingers thoughtlessly traced your cross necklace for what seemed like the thousandth time that week, even though you knew it wouldn’t help you now. “You know why I’m here, Michael,” you said grudgingly.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he said, and you rolled your eyes. This was all a part of his plan to ruin you, having you swallow your last ounce of pride to admit that you were afflicted by him.

“I thought you knew everything,” you said sarcastically as he leaned forward and offered you his hand.

“Oh, believe me, (y/n), I do,” he said, helping you to your feet after you placed your hand in his. “I just want to hear you say it.”

He came closer to you, hips swinging slightly as he took his usual long, leisurely strides. Your back hit the dusty shelves, shaking something loose- there was a soft crash as something scattered across the floor, but you hardly noticed, too busy fixating on Michael as he closed in on his prey. Rolling his neck slightly, he licked his lips; his eyes were dark and glinted with a carnivorous sort of hunger.

“Fine,” you said loudly, resenting the way he regarded you so smugly. “I’m here because I couldn’t bring myself to face you. Because you make me want to do bad things. Un-Christian things. Happy?”

“Now, how hard was that?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, blinking innocently. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his tone gentle but authoritative, fingers trailing down your cheeks and ghosting your jaw.

“You know what I want,” you murmured, looking down as your face flushed with shame. Was he really going to make you say it?

Of course he was going to. You shouldn’t have expected any sort of mercy from someone like Michael Langdon. He was eating this up, thriving on your weakness. And for some reason, as ashamed as you were to admit it, that raw, domineering power only made your center throb harder with want.

“Look at me,” he commanded calmly, so low you almost thought you’d imagined it. You obeyed, shuddering as his eyes seared invasively into yours. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

“I want-“ you began, pausing to gather your bearings. “I want you to touch me.” You hardly registered the words as your own; it felt like you were outside of your body, watching helplessly from afar as you eagerly allowed Michael Langdon to strip you of your remaining dignity.

“That’s it,” he said, lowering his hand to toy with the hem of your skirt. “Let go of everything. Give yourself to me.” He hiked up your skirt to your waist, and you could only imagine how crude this scene would look to an observer as he rolled your nude colored pantyhose down to your knees. You whimpered, barely noticing the way the shelf behind you dug painfully into your back.

“Where do you want to be touched?” he asked, making you groan in exasperation. Wasn’t the fact that you were submitting to him enough? Why did he need to further humiliate you?

“Please,” you breathed, but he only shook his head at you, no sign of sympathy in his stoic gaze. “Michael.”

Your hand shot forward and gripped his wrist, tugging it desperately towards your dripping core. He seemed pleasantly surprised at this, and seemed to be rewarding your boldness when he starred to rub circles over the thin fabric of your underwear. You moved your hand to grip his forearm, hissing as he applied hard pressure to your aching clit.

“Your underwear is completely soaked through,” he remarked, sliding his hand up to the waistband and snapping it hard against your lower stomach. “Have I always made you this wet?”

You knew he expected an answer from you, freezing in place as he waited for your reply. He could probably continue this for hours if he wanted to, just destroying you bit by bit. You gulped and nodded quickly, hoping that would suffice as an answer to his question.

He worked your underwear down to your knees, bunching it alongside your pantyhose. Next you felt his dress shoes nudging between your flats, urging you to spread your legs apart. You complied, his fingers stroking your upper leg and dipping into the juices that had begun to dribble down your inner thighs.

When he’d coated a sufficient amount on his fingers, he lifted them to your lips; you parted them obediently and he slipped them into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around them, moaning wantonly at the taste of your wetness combined with the salty flavor of his skin.

“Who would’ve known that the sweet little Christian girl would turn out to be such a needy slut?” he mused, removing his fingers from your mouth to trace them lightly over your swollen clit. “Good girl,” he praised, dragging his moist fingers over your entrance before easing them inside your tight walls. You whined, grinding your hips down as you felt yourself being stretched out for the first time in your life. It was exquisite, the way he felt inside you, and you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself this for so long.

He started out torturously slow, allowing you to get used to the feeling of his fingers inside you before increasing the intensity. When you’d been properly stretched out, he thrusted harshly upwards, forcing a gasp from your lips as your vision blurred. Your eyes fluttered shut and his pace quickened, his fingers expertly reaching and working at your deepest points with each vigorous thrust of his wrist. Your arms braced his neck, holding him close to you in case he might change his mind, decide to leave you high and dry. The thought of that alone made you want to sob.

“That’s it,” he said, aligning his thumb with your clit and tracing shapes over it firmly. “Allow yourself to forget everything but the pleasure.” You were one step ahead of him, your mind already blanking out as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, thumb pushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves without mercy. You cried out, muscles tensing as you realized you were about to have your very first orgasm, and for the first time you understood, really understood, the reason people touched themselves, had sex before marriage. What was so goddamned sinful about wanting release?

You rocked your hips forward, your walls clenching around him, and he stopped, fingers remaining inside you and thumb hovering just over your clit. You whined, rolling your hips against his hand, but he moved his hand with your body, not allowing you to take more than he was willing to give. “Tell me,” he ordered, knowing very well you knew what he meant.

“Michael, please,” you pleaded, wiping away a bead of sweat that was traveling down your forehead. “Don’t do this, I- I need this-”

He hummed softly, just barely sweeping his thumb over your clit, pulling it away before you could buck your hips towards him. “You need what, (y/n)? I need to hear you say it before I can give it to you.”

“Make me come, Michael, I need to come,” you blurted, blinking back tears which wobbled precariously over the rim of your eyes. You saw him grin, and then your vision blurred as he resumed massaging circles roughly against your bud, fingers stretching apart inside you before pounding hard against your spongey walls.

“Oh my- oh my god,” you sighed, too wrapped up in your ecstasy to care about using the lord’s name in vain. All you cared about in this moment was Michael and his beautiful hand turning you inside out, giving you what you’d been yearning for so desperately. He curled his fingers inside you and that was it- you orgasmed, a tsunami of pure, sinful bliss washing over you, and you made sure your face was buried in his shoulder to muffle the shrieks that you simply could not stifle.

You laid your head there while he slipped his fingers out of you, wiping the excess moisture over your protruding outer lips. Mindlessly brushing away a strand of his perfect hair from his neck, you opened your eyes with a contented hum, still too flustered from your orgasm to think clearly.

And then you almost screamed.

Suddenly you had all the answers you’d been looking for. You knew for certain now who he was, why he had such seemingly supernatural powers that both frightened and compelled you. It was remarkable, you thought, that you hadn’t realized it sooner.

Below his ear, etched in reddened, raised flesh, was a number.

6-6-6.

#michael langdon #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #cody fern #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #ahs smut #ahs imagines #mine #ahs #american horror story

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a-deadly-serenade · 5 years

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The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 7: Ravens, and Witches, and Wolves oh my! [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

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You awoke one morning with a dazed smile on your face, your head abuzz with the dreams from the night before. You rubbed the tired from your eyes, but the vivid imagery of your dream still remained at the forefront of your mind.

You had been standing in front of a large forest. It was absolutely breathtaking, twinkling with fireflies and fairy lights. A small stream paved its way through the shrubbery, plush moss and groups of clover providing just the right amount of padding along the riverbank.

Fauna roamed throughout the trees, but they were not the usual animals that you would encounter in the wild. They rounded the corner of your eye, and only allowed you to see them in your periphery.

You had heard tales throughout your childhood of witches who had been foolish enough to challenge these beings, and demand to face them head on. No one really knew what happened if you ever looked one in the eye, but some said that your soul gets sucked down into one the magical streams that course through their body, only to be trapped in a seemingly endless purgatory.

It was rare for these creatures to reveal themselves to humans, but it has happened. As par the course, people often believed they were monsters, and that they were omens of death or something ridiculous like that.

Sure, they had reputations that preceded them from the scary rumors, but the sketching you had seen within your textbooks made you question why everyone thought they were so horrifying. You found them quite beautiful.

White, ethereal looking creatures with the anatomy of a deer. They were documented as either having a pair of bright red eyes, or having hundreds that shifted in color depending where you stood.

Their antlers were said to be enormous, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to be so ancient that they sprouted small trees and bushes amongst the twisting bone. Fairies, spiders, birds and nymphs would make their homes in the branches, a whole separate ecosystem that silently marched along the forest floor.

They had big hooves, tiny plants sprouting along the path they tread, each of their frosty breaths giving new life to withering or dying flowers. It is recommended that you try and see them at night, their forms shining like starlight in the piercing moonlight, dancing along the edges of your vision like ghosts.

Your coven called them forest spirits, and there would be times during the ceremonies held within the darkness of the great, old forest that surrounded your cove, that you could have sworn seeing something walking out of the corner of your eye.

The older women, including your grandmother, always said that these creatures were to be respected, never feared. They let you know that the forest is healthy, that it is alive, and that it is magical.

Anyways, back to the dream… (boy could your mind wander)

You had been walking through some magical woods, and they felt ancient, the very earth lighting up under your feet as you followed a predetermined path. You were unsure of where you were, but at the same time, a sense of familiarity lingered in the air, and you found yourself able to maneuver over where it is you wanted to go.

Soon you were standing in front of a clearing, you walked out and discovered a small cove. A tiny heart shaped pond stood in the middle, large lily pads and lotuses blossomed on its surface. Plush ferns swayed alongside a large boulder that was placed before the water, slightly elevated on a moss covered hill. Fireflies dance amongst the thick leaves of the aromatic flower trees and bushes that surrounded you, the hoot of an owl rumbling in the delicate wind.

A bright moon hung in the sky, and you noticed, to your delight, that the moon’s startling white rays had been mixed in with soft hues of pink. It was a Strawberry Moon, the next upcoming full moon within the month of June.

The place was beautiful, and you gave a delighted hum as you run your hand across the surface of the crystal clear water. Tiny aquatic plants swayed to the motion, a couple of small fish darting around in surprise at the sudden commotion.

High pitched giggles coming from all around you snapped you out of your daze, and a dozen or so colorful lights came streaming out of the large lilies that were bunched near one corner of the pond.

You realized that they were fairies, as you caught glimpses of what they looked like here and there as they darted by.

Stop trying to deny it…

A soft voice, very childlike in its tone, called out to you. It seemed to be coming from the pink light.

“Deny what?” you answered.

Another round of giggles.

Now you were starting to get flashbacks to the hibiscus gang back in the greenhouse.

Uh oh, he’s here! another voice cried out. The yellow light.

“Who?” you called back.

Don’t be silly, another fairy chimed, the one surrounded by purple light. He’s right behind you!

Your breath caught in your throat as your turned around, the sight of a great white wolf catching you completely off guard.

The beast lazily lay upon the large rock, its bushy tail wagging slowly back and forth with the breeze. Its head was cocked towards the sky, and it let out a long, dramatic yawn; one that helped reveal very clearly that it could defend himself.

But, for some reason, a feeling inside you compelled you to inch closer and closer to the wolf. You couldn’t describe it, it felt almost like a tug, as though someone was pulling on a string, urging you forward.

A twig snapped under your bare feet, your whole body freezing in place as the beast reared its head in your direction.

Your eyes widened in fear as it stared at you, but that was displaced for a quick few seconds when you finally got a sight of its eyes. Big, shining orbs that sparkled as though made of rivers of gold. You had never seen a wolf with such stunning eyes before.

There was a silence, where neither one of you moved, but… then there was that tug again.

You needed to reach out… stretch out your arm, yeah, that’s it! And then gently…

Gently, you placed your hand on the top of the wolf’s snout. You felt its nose twitch once, twice, before it exhaled, a deep sound that rumbled in its chest. A delighted laugh slipped past your lips as the wolf leaned forward, pushing your hand higher up its head, until you had to move in order to scratch him just behind the ears.

He was a soft, friendly, and affectionate little one, peppering your arms and face with gentle licks and kisses.

You cuddled up beside him as you felt your eyes grow heavy, a signal that you were about to return to the world of the living. It was peaceful, and you felt at ease for the first time in months inside your own dream.

Ever since losing your family, your mind was often a turbulent place, a world that had control of your emotions, causing you to have more nightmares than you would like to remember.

But this? This was… nice.

A breeze flew between the two of you, the smell of dew, grass… and… leather? And books?

You opened your eyes, only to find yourself alone on that rock, the moon shimmering in the night sky that had started to get flecked with hues of orange and pink and blue. Where had the wolf gone?

Your fingers grazed against something, and to your shock, you found a deep red hibiscus, resting where the wolf had been moments prior.

You picked it up, puzzled where it came from, as you spun the stem between your fingers.

Language…

“What?”

The language… of…

“Language of…what language?” you repeat to yourself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You looked back down at the hibiscus, and then back up to the ever waning moon. “The language… the language… ”

The image of a red hibiscus and a great white wolf lingered in your mind as you woke up, and as you bathed yourself and got ready for the day, you kept trying to figure out what exactly that voice had meant about “the language”.

You had never attributed too much to dreams, learning from your grandmother at an early age that most dreams meant absolute codswallop and that leaning on them for answers was absolutely ridiculous.

On the other hand, some of the other old women argued that dreams were a very valid source of divination for witches, and it was foolish to not listen to what they said.

“Oh really?” your grandma would interrupt, clearly annoyed.

This would happen every time someone would reignite the whole “dream debate”, as the women liked to call it. You had been witness to several yourself, and recalled one night where your grandmother had had quite the rebuttal.

“Well, I had a dream that the handsome new farm hand that sells us all our vegetables, came ‘round and swept me off my feet-- among other things,” she mumbled, several other witches snickering in response. “That doesn’t mean he’s gonna come and do that, Daria!”

The other woman, Daria, someone that your grandmother often disagreed with, gave a hmph!

“You don’t know that! It could have been a vision from the future--”

“He’s engaged you peaheaded fool!”

Most of the room would erupt into laughter, but the other women hardly ever found it amusing. Usually, that would be the time that your mother would escort your grandma back home, the two old women shouting curses at one another till they were too far away to hear what foul atrocities would befall their crops, or which great-great-great-great grandchild would be born with the head of a toad.

So, you knew to take such vivid dreams with a grain of salt. But, there was something tugging at you again… the thought that maybe… just this one might actually hold some meaning to it.

You flatten out a few of the creases on your light blue chiffon blouse, trying to look presentable even if your mind was a mess. You sported some light cotton trousers to go alongside, as you assumed that you would just be in the greenhouse again all day.

The brown boots you wore were scuffed and covered in flecks of dried dirt. You made sure that the soles were relatively clean, since you would be mortified if you stained the beautiful red carpets with mud after trekking throughout the castle back to your room late one night.

Throughout the weeks of living in Castlevania, you had managed to familiarize yourself with the layout of the places that you frequented often, like the library or the garden. It was so much easier for you to just zip through the hallways, oftentimes skipping down them as you pondered on what to eat for breakfast.

But… there was a familiar tug, and you slowed down one corner, entering the last hallway you had to walk through to reach the kitchen.

Your gaze wandered, curious as to why you had felt that sensation just moments before, when your attention was brought to yet another painting. It was strange, you must have passed this one at least a dozen times before, why was it vying itself to be important now?

It was a large portrait of Adrian, that you knew. The two of you ran into each other one morning, and he had pointed out that this had been done shortly after receiving his sword. He said his father called it an “extended birthday present”, but Adrian knew it was just a way for his mother and father to have a portrait of him as an adult. He also mentioned how amusing he thought it was, that they hung it right outside his old nursery.

That fact certainly piqued your interest, but he had locked the door with a spell before you could even try to get in. You pouted, but he had said he would show you one day. For now, he would like to be spared some form of humility in your relationship.

Oh right… that’s what he had said. You recalled how your cheeks rose in color, chastising yourself for even thinking of misinterpreting it as something other than a friendship. Is that why you had been brought here? To feel embarrassed again?

Slightly irritated, you’re about to tell this inner-voice to bugger off, before you realize something peculiar about the shield that he’s carrying. It was large, and red, with a black cross emblem resting in the foreground of large, white bat wings, and the enormous head of a ferocious white wolf with golden eyes.

Memories of your dream merge with the painting before you, a thrumming headache drumming behind the backs of your eyes as that voice comes back, echoing,

The language… the language…! Over and over again!

Ugh!

You pinched the bridge of your nose and kept going. Why was this dream being so stubborn? Why couldn’t it just fade away like all the rest of ‘em did?

Walking into the kitchen, you took your seat beside Adrian, who was reading the book you had assigned him to, a tome on more advanced fire spells. He was stirring his tea with the slow flick of his index finger, a skill he had been quite proud of mastering.

Lisa was chatting with her husband, a bowl of steamy homemade oatmeal with a sprinkle of cinnamon resting in front of her. Vlad sipped on some freshly brewed coffee as his wife told him about her plans for the day, the two of them giving you smiles as you helped yourself to some food.

“You have quite the good timing,” Lisa said, eating a spoonful of her breakfast. “I was just about to tell Vlad what we were doing for the day.”

“Oh?” you stirred your spoon, sticky with honey, into your oatmeal.

“I thought it was finally time that you accompany me to the village, to Lupu!” she gave you a toothy grin, eyes crinkled with excitement.

Your spoon nearly clattered back into your oatmeal from shock, but you managed to shove it into your mouth before any harm fell to it. You swallowed, a bit of apprehension laced in your voice as you replied, “Are… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Lisa frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well… I… I dunno, what if I scare someone? Or mess something up? I would never want you to lose the trust you’ve built up with your patients because of something I did--”

“That’s enough.” Lisa snapped. “You need to stop being so harsh on yourself! If anyone has what it takes to be an amazing doctor, it’s you!”

A blush spread across your face and down your neck, and your averted your gaze back to your breakfast. “Thank… thank you,” you said sheepishly.

“You act as though you have two heads and vicious claws, little one.” Vlad gave you a kind look from across the table. “No one will be afraid of you. Never have I met someone as kind and generous as my dear Lisa. The people will love you.”

Your breath left you in shaky gasps, a wave of gratitude washing away all of the anxiety you had previously felt. “Thank you… both of you. I really appreciate it.”

Once breakfast was finished, Lisa suggested that you head back to your room in preparation for the day. She said that you were going to watch what she did more than anything today, but she urged that you take important notes and prepare yourself for on the fly questions anyone may ask you.

You didn’t really know what to expect, so you tried to shove everything important you could think of inside your satchel. A couple of your personal notebooks, some vials of fresh herbs and roots, a couple crystals, some tonics, a few potions, and of course: some gauze.

When you walked out of the front door, you were surprised to find that Lisa was not the only one waiting for you. Adrian was there as well, along with two absolutely stunning horses.

Lisa’s was a chestnut colored mare, his mane a light blond and a white stripe down his snout that matched the white sock patterns he sported around his hooves. His saddle was simple and elegant, but it was practically hidden under the heaps of bags and sacks that Lisa had tied to him.

When she caught sight of your skeptical gaze, she waved you off. “I have not visited for awhile since you’ve arrived, darling. It was a bit difficult for me to find enough time for long consultations in between our lessons. I just have a feeling that it’s going to be a bit busier than normal. Plus, I needed to stock up on some supplies so,” she gave the big bag tied behind her a hearty slap to emphasize her point.

You felt anxiety flicker inside you as she said this, and you worried that the townsfolk would start disliking you as the reason for keeping Lisa away for so long. But… it was summer, it was not common for someone to get very ill during the warmer months. You’re certain Lisa would have stayed in the village longer if someone had desperately needed medical assistance.

Adrian cleared his throat, and made a soft click to get the horse he held moving.

This one was white almost all over, with a white body and white mane. However, the inside of its ears were a pitch black, and its snout looked almost as if someone had dusted ashes onto it. It was a faded black, almost like weathered charcoal. Thick, white lashes fluttered down at you, as the horse gazed upon you with its round black eyes.

You were intrigued by the stare it… she was giving you. Mirroring the movements from your dream, you placed the palm of your hand on her nose, and gave her a few gentle scratches before she whinnied and walked closer.

Smiling, you stroked her soft mane and she gave a delighted puff, her tail flicking from side to side like a puppy.

“Her name is Clara, and I thought that her friendly disposition would be easy for you to handle.” Adrian gave you the reigns, a smile on his face.

“Oh I’ve lived with horses my whole life… I just never had the money to afford one after… well, you know.” you gave him a halfhearted smile in return, but quickly chased those thoughts away.

“She’s beautiful, thank you for introducing me to her Adrian.” you gently stroked Clara down her back, before you heaved yourself up into the saddle. You gave Adrian a thumbs up, hoping that you didn’t get him down after he had gifted you with a horse.

You saw his eyes shine as his lips upturned into another smile, the sight causing your heart to flutter as both you and Lisa waved him goodbye as you started down the path into town.

The two of you left late in the morning, and expected to get there by early afternoon. Now on the backs of horses, you felt much more relieved on the prospect of the trip back, having dreaded the idea of walking all the way back to Castlevania after a day of hard work.

__________

You and Lisa made idle chit chat as your horses followed the dusty route that lead to Lupu, where she revealed that that is where she was born and raised.

It had been a very small village when she was little, but over the past two decades or so, it had really begun thriving. It was all thanks to meeting Vlad all those years ago. He gifted Lisa with the knowledge to really help people, and it was because of him that she was able to heal so many people and save so many lives.

The mortality rate, especially that of children and infants, had gone down significantly since Lisa became the town’s physician. It was horrendous to dwell on how things were back in the day, and she cannot believe that her own mother had taken the advice of the wisewoman everyone claimed as a real healer.

You grimaced at that, having too much experience with those sorts of folks.

“I told him,” she said, her voice shaking with laughter. “That… that people wouldn’t live such scared little lives anymore if they had real medicine!” her laughter was triumphant, and Lisa smiled. “And I was right! It makes me so happy to see my people so healthy and alive.”

You could easily echo Lisa’s sentiments, and the more time the two of you spent together, the clearer it became that the two of you were truly destined to meet.

“I suppose… given enough time… Lupu could become like another family to me,” you muttered, as you clung to the amulet around your neck.

“I know it will.” Lisa stated firmly.

The rest of the journey went by fairly quickly, and the both of you soon made it to Lisa’s clinic on the outskirts of town. While Lisa hurriedly restocked her stores, you watched over the horses as they took a break to drink some fresh stream water or munch on crisp grass.

The weather was perfect, and you raised your hand above your eyes to get a better look at Lupu. You could see a few houses, made of mud, stone, and grass, had smoke rising from their roofs, signaling that someone was hard at work on the stove.

The distinct sound of clattering cow bells and the cries of hungry sheep rung in your ears, a couple dog barks sounding off, a man shouting about something in response, before the chatter of several other people rose up into the atmosphere.

Slowly, the village was coming to life. The prospect of making a couple coins off hungry travelers stopping by in the peak of the afternoon, was always something on vendor’s minds. Bartenders were going to take advantage of thirsty customers, just wanting a pint with their freshly grilled chicken, and animals would need to be let out of their huts and prairies for their lunch as well.

“Alright,” Lisa said, as she came running out of the doorway, which she closed with a swift kick. “That should be everything. Grab what you left on your horse, and then let us make our way down.”

The only thing that you brought with you was your satchel, and after a few exchanges, Lisa decided that it would make more sense for you to leave that inside her office. She concluded a tour of Lupu was the first order of business on the agenda, since it would give you a chance to look around and meet the people that you would be treating.

Lisa lead you down the beaten path, quietly urging you forward when you found yourself straggling behind her excited gait. Rows of vendors and a few shops were the first buildings that ran along either side of the main road. The shopkeepers went about coaxing any possible customers with their deals, priding themselves on the freshness of their ingredients or the level of quality on their craftsmanship.

A girl with messy brown hair tied back into a ponytail, her honey-brown eyes surrounded by a mask of freckles, approached you with a couple homemade necklaces, going on about how they were charms that warded off evil, or how this one would guarantee that money would find its way into your hands.

You glanced skeptically at the pieces, and you noted that both of the gems were white quartz, which had little to no power on its own. Quartz was more of a conduit for magic than anything, helping amplify other elements in a spell rather than being what really impacts your original intent.

“I would start making those money charms with citrine, if I were you,” you suggested.

The girl blinked, clearly having no idea what you were talking about. She looked back down at her necklace, and then slowly raised it up to you, as though unsure of whether or not you wanted to buy it. “Uhh… thanks?” she had an accent, unrefined and harsh.

You vaguely thought to try and explain what it is you meant, but then she shoved past you and embraced Lisa in a tight hug.

“Marian! It’s good to see you!”

Lisa playfully ruffled her hair, a toothy grin on the girls face as she raced back inside of her house, yelling, “Mama! Lisa is back! Lisa is back!”

A couple moments later, a disheveled woman with blond blond hair, tied behind her in a braid, came out of the house followed by a girl about the same age as Marian, with hair the same color and style as her mother’s.

“Oh! It’s true!” she cried out, elated. She was muttering to herself as she shuffled over to where Lisa stood, and she grabbed her hands, shaking them up and down in gratitude.

“Why hello there Sabina,” Lisa gave the woman two chaste kisses on either side of her face. “And you, Lorena,” she smiled at the other girl.

“It’s great to see you Doctor Tepes!” she exclaimed. “It’s been forever since we last saw you. What have you been up to?”

“Well, actually,” Lisa turned her attention to you, who had been standing beside her awkwardly this entire time. “This is a student of mine, and she’s what’s been taking up a lot of my time. I brought her with me today to meet all of you and to get a feel for working with actual people instead of plants.”

The three laughed, and waited as you nervously introduced yourself before greeting you properly, with hand shakes and cheek-kisses.

“Everyone is going to be so happy when they find out that you’re back, Dr. Tepes.” Sabina said, as she ushered her two girls back to the old, wooden table that held their wares for sale.

“By the looks of it, it seems that I don’t even really need to visit you!” Lisa joked. “It’s so lively this morning.”

“That’s ‘cus winter is over with!” Lorena chimed in. “I mean, spring is always nice, with all of the plants and animals coming back, but nothing can beat this nice weather!”

“Yes,” Sabina agreed. “The crops have been especially good this year, as have the animals. They’re all as healthy as can be.”

“That’s wonderful to hear!” Lisa happily exclaimed, and gave the family a wave as she started to walk away. “It was great seeing you all! We’re just going to make our rounds.”

Sabina nodded her head, and gave Lisa one last kiss on the cheek before she headed back to her house. “You better stop by for some dinner before you head home!”

“I will! Thank you!”

You gave the family a wave too, beginning to feel a little more at ease. The most of that afternoon was spent with Lisa getting recognized and pulled into hugs and conversation, and one thing that made you truly happy to hear, was just how thrilled everyone was to report how well they had been doing physically since her absence.

“My mother hardly ever nags me about that blasted cough she used to get around this time! What a relief!” a large man named Serghei laughed, a hearty, infectious sound that spread throughout the crowd.

You and Lisa had decided to stop by the local pub for a drink, and the friendly atmosphere made it easy to catch up with all of the local patrons. Everyone was incredibly amicable, and welcomed you with wide open arms. A lot of people went so far as to admit how glad they were that Lisa was finally receiving some sort of help.

“She does too much on her own, that one!” the bartender, named Toma, grumbled.

He and his wife ran the place together, and they had been doing so for well over ten years. His wife, Valeria, was a boisterous woman that was well respected within the community. The two greatly contrasted each other, Toma being a skinny, short man, while Valeria was a tall, powerful presence that toted the title of being the undefeated champion of arm wrestling at The Baroness.

Apparently how the spot got its name is a favorite story amongst the locals, the men pleading and begging Valeria to tell you. After some goading, they managed to convince her, the crowd falling silent with a hush as they huddled around the barstools you and Lisa sat at.

“So I first need to preface this, with a little backstory,” Valeria begins, her rich voice sending tingles up your spine. “Back before I met old Tomas here and got my life all sorted out, I was sort of… freelance in the good old days.”

“Freelance?” you question.

“She means she was a thief,” Tomas whispered back.

Valeria glared at her husband. “Oi! I had more dignity than a common thief! Anyways, me and my friend, who for the sole purpose of this story, I decided to name Grigore,” the audience chuckled and sneered. “Overheard about this party that was happening in Tậrgoviște. Now, being the capital and all, there was no way that a couple of common folks was sneakin’ into this big fancy party. But, I came up with an ingenious plan. We would disguise ourselves as a pair of guests, it’s not like whoever is hosting is gonna recognize all five hundred people they invited. That’s absolute shit!”

The men hooped and hollered, raising their tankards in agreement as they took big, hearty swigs. You moved out of the way as a couple guys behind you started getting rowdy, trying to avoid getting beer spilled all over your nice clothes.

“Hey!” Valeria shoved one of the men behind you, the back of his head colliding with someone behind him. “Watch the lady! She’s listenin’ to my story.”

You gave her a weak thank you, before urging her to continue, not wanting to make any enemies from this special treatment.

“So we stake out the place, looking for two people that looked boring enough to be missed. It was actually pretty easy to do, nobles can be pretty clueless when it comes down to it. When her date suddenly ‘vanished’, she went looking for him and quickly found my fist in her face instead.” she laughed, slapping one of her muscular thighs in amusement. “All that was left was to change into their clothes and assume their titles. I had nabbed the role of the Baroness Elisabeta, and Grigore was some wimpy Baron called Eduard, or something. The whole point of these parties were for nobles to donate a certain amount of money, which would all be stored within a great big chest.”

“That,” you said, a frown on your face. “Is… really stupid.”

Valeria cackled, and then pointed at you. “This kid gets it! That’s exactly what I was thinking when it was explained to me. Now, even though I was a freelancer-”

“Thief.” Toma corrected, as he handed someone a refill.

“Freelancer!” Valeria insisted. “Even though I was a freelancer, I was not completely dense. I knew that there would be no way that the two of us would be able to get away with stealing the entire thing. But, we could both settle for a big bag or two. To cut things short, we ended up with only one bag between the two of us, and about ten soldiers on our asses. It was actually the night I met Toma,” she said, and wrapped one of her toned arms around her husband’s shoulders. “If he hadn’t been stupid enough to actually hide the two of us, I would probably be in prison, rotting away in some cell.”

“And what a shame that would be!” Toma exclaimed. “I’m glad I was foolish enough to trust you into not killing me for being a conspirator in your big scheme.”

Valeria laughed and dipped him back as she gave him a kiss, the patrons whooping and crying out excitedly. She gave her husband a firm slap to the back as he walked off in a slight daze, before her fierce grey eyes landed on you.

“You seem like a strong girl. I hope that you find someone that will treat you right.”

You flushed, unprepared for this change in the conversation. “Um… um thank you.”

“Never,” she grabbed a firm hold of your shoulders, and albeit, you were surprised at how soft her hands were. “Settle for anything less than you’re worth.”

You slowly nodded your head, letting her know you received her message loud and clear.

The bar was filled with a chorus of farewells and a lot of handshakes as you and Lisa made your way out, the sound and smell of metallurgy filling your senses as you both rounded a corner. A small hut sat a little ways away from a blacksmith station, the steam from the water hiding the man that was currently hammering away at a piece of red-hot steel.

“Doctor Tepes!” a woman’s voice called out from behind the fog, and out ran a tall, lithe woman with vibrant red hair. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sunlight, her arms wrapped tightly around Lisa when she was welcomed with open arms.

“Diana! How wonderful to see you!” Lisa pulled away and peered over Diana’s shoulder, a smirk on her face. “I see Marius is still hard at work.”

“Of course, after saving his hand, there’s been no stopping him!” she laughed, a joyous ring that sounded almost like a song. “We’ve even been commissioned by several royal families! We delivered a sword just a few days ago to Gresit, I believe it was one of the son’s birthdays.”

“That’s exciting!” Lisa beamed at her. “Do you think it would be possible to speak to Marius? It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, after-all.”

“You don’t even need to ask, ma’am,” Diana playfully shoved Lisa’s shoulder as she turned to get her husband. After a few seconds, she appeared from the smoke on the arm of her husband, Marius.

He was a tall man, with choppy black hair and the stubble of a beard. There was a nasty scar running from the tip of his right eyebrow, down to the side of his lips, and he walked with a slight limp. His muscular arms were covered in an array of scars, some deeper than others, but despite his rather rugged appearance, his bright blue eyes sparkled with a delightful warmth.

“Doctor Tepes,” he rasped, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “It’s been quite some time since we’ve last seen each other.”

“It has. But I’ll have you know that I wasn’t just lounging around!” Lisa said, and put a hand on your shoulder as she introduced you to the couple. “This is a prospective student of mine. She’s been working with me for a couple weeks now, and she’s made such significant progress, that I thought it only reasonable for me to bring her with me on my first outing back here.”

“Student, eh?” Marius looked down at you. “I didn’t know you were a teacher too.”

“I never thought that role would befall me either,” Lisa admitted. “But she approached me into having her as my apprentice. She’s very skilled in the art of medicine as well.”

“Really?” Diana sounded a bit impressed. “But you look so young!”

“I’ve actually been learning about healing and medicine for almost my entire life.” you replied. “Which… can be a little difficult to do if you’re a woman.”

Diana nodded her head in agreement. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard Doctor Tepes over here complaining to me about how people compare her to the senile old wisewomen that suggest you boil nettles and entrails! The ridiculousness of it all.”

You grinned, thankful that at least these people understood the benefits of medicine and what Lisa was providing for them. “That’s why I sought her out,” you said, your focus back on Lisa. “I overheard rumors circulating in this village while I visited about someone who was actually taking care of and healing people! It made me very excited, as my family had been doing that for generations. I was so relieved when she said she would teach me… I honestly don’t know what I would be doing right now had she not been so kind.”

“Oh, stop it,” Lisa had a blush on her cheeks. “You are very intelligent and capable. There was no way I was going to let you just wander off after you proved to me how much you knew about medicine!”

“Now there’s no need to put yourself down either, Lisa,” Marius interjected. “It’s because of you that I have my hand.” he raised up his left hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

“It was due to the war,” Diana answered, after she noticed your curious expression. “He came back home after serving for around five months, with what we thought was only a broken wrist. A couple days later, and he’s suffering from a horrible fever and his hand is starting to succumb to a nasty infection. If it wasn’t for Doctor Tepes, he certainly wouldn’t have that hand.”

“Aye,” Marius looked at Lisa, the gratitude in his expression palpable. “It’s thanks to you that I have been able to keep my craft alive.”

“And you do mighty fine work!” Lisa smiled, her eyes flicking over to Marius’s workstation. “Do you think we’d be able to get a sneak peak on what you’re working on?”

Marius gave a sheepish grin, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… if you really wanted to, I wouldn’t be opposed--”

“Wonderful!” Lisa grabbed a hold of your hand and urged you forward.

You heard Diana laugh at her enthusiasm, and you quickly picked up your pace to avoid tripping as Lisa pulled you along.

The inside of the room was surprisingly organized, with tools being sorted into different open mason jars as storage, and rolled up parchment, with what you could only assume as design plans, rested comfortably and neatly inside one of the shelves.

Swords and shields hung on the wall, however you noted that these were not new. In fact, they were covered in scratches and dents, some of the metal on the hilt of the swords turning a dark brown as it rusted over.

“These were the weapons I was able to salvage after my time in the war,” Marius said, while he looked over the small collection fondly. “They’ve saved my life on many occasions, so I did not think it right to abandon them after my injury.”

“My father was in one of the wars,” you replied, as you continued to stare at one of the shields, it’s detailed emblem catching your eye.

Marius looked down at you, surprised. “Really? What was his name?”

You turned to Marius, a half-hearted smile on your lips. “Nicolae. Although, it is unlikely that you would have ever met him. He died in the wars against the Ottoman’s around twenty years ago.”

Marius hummed, and gave an understanding nod. “I see… I am sorry for your loss.”

You chuckled, a hint of sadness laced in your eyes. “I never met him, but my mother told me that he was a kind man and that he loved her very much. She would reminisce about him sometimes… his eyes the color of sapphires, hair a curly mess that always ended up with twigs and leaves tangled within its strands… I think…” you paused for a moment, and nibbled on your thumbnail. “I think she missed him… but she never really let on how much she missed him.”

“Parents often hide their sorrow in order to remain strong for their children.” Marius let one of his large hands rest on the top of your head, before he gave you two endearing pats. “I’m sure your father is very proud of the woman that you have become.”

“Thank you… it would be nice to even have one memory of him, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” your breath felt heavy, a sudden ache filling your chest as you said this.

“Don’t be sad, love,” Diana cooed, she and Lisa walking over to where you and Marius stood. “You can make new happy memories here, with all of us!”

“She’s right,” Lisa agreed, and bopped the tip of your nose. “Everyone here has been so thrilled to meet you!” she suddenly faltered, and her head cocked to the side as she scratched the side of her face, a nervous habit of hers. “Well… there’s one group that I’m a little worried about…”

You felt anxiety start to grab a hold of you again, swallowing a lump in your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Diana groaned beside you, as she rolled her eyes. “You’re not talking about them are you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Come now,” Marius interjected. “They’re not so bad!”

Diana scoffed, her hands placed on her hips. “You only say that because they’ve got a soft spot for you!”

“Nonsense!”

“Oh please!” Diana said scathingly. “As soon as one of them spots you, they lure you over with lies about how they’re roof needs fixing or this one specific chair wobbles too much for their liking.”

“They’re old women, my flower,” Marius tried reasoning with Diana, but she seemed to have her mind already made up on these women. “I try and help them whenever I can!”

You craned your neck in Lisa’s direction so you could whisper in her ear, “Who are you talking about?”

“They’re a group of… well, elderly patients--mostly women--that all live within close proximity to each other,” Lisa took hold of your hand again, quietly excusing herself out of the room as Marius continued his efforts to try and calm Diana down.

She lead you back outside and pointed to a group of houses that seemed to form a semicircle around a dusty pavilion that was currently filled with children playing and mothers chatting with each other as they washed their clothes in the nearby creek.

“Folks around here have gotten used to calling it the ‘Senior Alcove’,” Lisa explained, a frown on her face. “I try not to humor then too much by doing the same. They’re really not that bad! They can be a handful at some times, but they’ve been kind to me ever since first coming back from Castlevania.”

“Did something happen after your return?”

“They were a bit suspicious of me when I reappeared, arms full of tonics and different herbs to brew as tea,” she chuckled as she recalled the memory. “They found it a bit hard to believe that I had suddenly become so knowledgeable within a few months, and they also wondered where I’d been this entire time. Thankfully, I was able to convince them that I was the real deal. My mother was a big help in persuading them, too--”

“Your mother ?” you exclaimed, mouth hung-open in mild shock.

“Yes, my mother. Did you think I was born from the Earth or something?” she laughed as she watched your expression shift from bewilderment to embarrassment, your face flushed red as you tried to clarify yourself.

“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” you pouted, arms folded across your chest. “You just never mentioned her till now. I just thought, that… well--”

“That she had passed away?” Lisa finished, and smiled at you to help ease away your anxious gaze. “Don’t worry, it’s only fair that you believed that. She was one of the few people who supported me in my decision to pursue medicine. Although… she was definitely not the biggest fan of me scaling the castle of a supposed monster to do it.”

You gave a quiet chuckle, amused at the thought of Lisa breaking the news that she had married the man everyone seemed to fear so much. “Do you think… do you think that I could meet her?”

“But of course!” Lisa seemed to wiggle excitedly where she stood. “She’ll be absolutely thrilled to hear that I’ve managed to snag an apprentice! Though, it’ll have to wait till we visit the elders. I want to make sure that you leave a good impression on them.”

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily!”

The both of you whirled around to find Diana and Marius walking over, a bundle of brown rags nestled within Diana’s arms.

“Seems I finally managed to calm her down,” Marius said, a nervous bout of laughter coming from his as Diana elbowed him in the ribs.

“I felt so bad for just… bursting out like that, I told Marius to fix something up real quick for the two of you.” Diana unwrapped what she kept hidden in her grasp, and revealed two round objects made of glass. She gently handed them to you and Lisa, silencing your comments on how they didn’t have to go through the trouble of doing all this with a single stare.

You examined the gift, a circular piece of pristine glass that was surrounded by a fine ring of maple wood. You had never seen anything like it before, and were more than a little confused as to what it’s function could be.

“It’s a sort of magnifying device!” Diana clarified. She grabbed hold of yours and lifted it up to the sky, the glass glittering under the bright sunlight. “It makes it easier for you to look at the finer details of a project. Marius uses them all the time to assist in his work.”

“You made this?” you inquired, more than a little impressed.

Marius nodded his head. “It’s vastly improved my ability to craft even the most delicate of orders. I thought that they might help if you ever needed to look more closely at an injury or… something like that.”

“This is wonderful! It’s almost like a mini telescope!” Lisa was absolutely delighted, and pocketed the small tool within the safety of her napsack.

It took her a second to realize that the three of you were looking at her as though she had just spoken Greek, and she gave a quiet chuckle. “It’s… it’s a device that my husband invented that works in a similar fashion; magnifying faraway objects that you would like to observe more closely.”

“Magnifying objects huh…” Marius mused, and rubbed his chin in a pensive manner. “I quite like the sound of that. I think I shall call them magnifying glasses.”

“Ooh! Make sure to write that down somewhere!” Diana chimed. “My husband sure is brilliant, isn’t he?”

Marius blushed and pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s only because I have someone like you in my life to inspire me, my flower.”

Diana’s jubilant laughter rang out as he hugged and kissed her.

The couple bid the both of you farewell as Lisa lead you to the Senior Alcove, Marius managing to shout one last message at your retreating forms, “Make sure to stop by if you ever need anything, ladies!”

The children and their mother’s who had been passing the day there all grew very excited upon recognizing Lisa, and while she struck up conversations with the adults, the children were much more interested in you.

It was rare that a stranger came through the village, and when you mentioned that you had been traveling all throughout Wallachia before meeting Lisa, they demanded to know what it was like out there.

Seeing their little eyes fill with excitement when you mentioned the towering mountains to the north, or the beautiful beaches of the south, more than made up for the overabundance in questions that they had. It was a wave of cries and disappointed grumbles when Lisa came over and told them that you had to go speak with the elders, but you promised that the next time you visited, you would make sure to stop by and tell them more of you adventures.

You have to admit that you were a little nervous meeting these old women, and you guessed that Lisa could sense your apprehension, for the first person that you met was named Miruna, and she had to be one of the gentlest people you have ever met. Her light blue eyes crinkled whenever she smiled, her long, starlight hair pulled into a loose bun on the back of her head. She was one of the first people that Lisa ever treated, and she thanked God every day for bringing such an angel into their lives.

The next few people went about as smoothly, and although you tried your best to remember everyone’s names, it was becoming rather difficult, your brain becoming muddled and tired after such an eventful day.

As the two of you said your farewells to the final woman, Tatiana, you let out a long slow exhale, and rubbed your sore temples.

“Is everything alright?”

Your arms flopped to your sides in an exasperated huff, but you managed to give Lisa a weak smile. “Yeah… I’m just a little tired, is all.”

“Did that gang wear you out more than you expected? You could have told me if it was too much--”

“No,” you stopped her. “They were actually fine. They… reminded me of the ladies that my grandmother used to hang out with all the time. I think my brain is just a little loopy from all of the human interaction.”

Lisa gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Hmm… maybe I can let you off a little early today.”

“What? There’s no need to do that--” you protest, but Lisa shook her head.

“Nonsense, I can take care of things on my own. If you aren’t able to put one-hundred percent into your work, then it wouldn’t be fair of me to keep you.”

“Are… are you sure? This was supposed to be my first day, and I’d hate to disappoint you like this…”

She pulled you into a hug, before placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. “You could never disappoint me, little one. I want you to eat a good hearty dinner and get a good night’s sleep, because I expect you ready to go bright and early tomorrow morning!”

You let out a sigh of relief, new energy coursing through your veins as you pictured yourself back at Castlevania, laying on your comfortable bed.

“Oh um… I… I would still like to meet your mother, if that’s okay?”

“I thought that you would say that,” Lisa giggled, and turned your attention to a small cottage that rested near the bend of the creek.

It looked similar in style to Lisa’s office, although it was definitely smaller. A large apple tree stood nearby, crisp red apples hanging off the healthy branches that drooped from the weight of the fruit. Small song birds pecked at the apple cores that had been left around the trunk by hungry animals, before they fluttered away when the loud caw of a raven could be heard.

You gasped out of fright when a large black bird swooped down from the sky, it’s wings fluttering once, twice, before it settled itself on an open windowsill. Its pointed peak ducked between its feathers to pick and preen, its long claws sunk into the wood as it paid no mind to neither you or Lisa.

“Munnin, is that you?”

A woman with sea-green eyes and greying blond hair worn in a stacked braid poked her head out of the window, her attention focused on the raven before she exclaimed in surprise, “Oh! Lisa!” at the sight of her daughter.

You heard footsteps rush to the front door, which was immediately yanked open as Lisa’s mother ran out to wrap her arms tightly around her daughter.

“My stars! I was not expecting to see you today!” she said, giving her daughter a kiss on each cheek.

“You act as though we haven’t seen each other in years, mother.” Lisa replied.

“Not years, no. But it has been several months! You could have at least sent me a letter,” she grumbled.

“You know you’re always welcome to visit!”

“And how was I supposed to get there? On these two legs? Now you’re barking.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and stepped aside so that you were in view. “Mother, I would like to introduce you to someone.” she began, and waved you over as she introduced you.

You gave her mother an awkward wave, silently praying that she would accept you as being worthy as her daughter’s student.

“A teacher? You?” she sounded incredulous. “My… that’s absolutely wonderful!”

Your breath was suddenly knocked out of you as she brought you into a tight hug, the smell of flowers and firewood catching your attention.

“I was always a little worried about my Lisa learning about all of this medical stuff, but knowing that she has someone that can continue her work, makes me very happy.”

“Thank… thank you, ma’am.” you said quietly.

“Oh, where are my manners!” she said, and grabbed both you and Lisa’s hand. “Come, let’s go inside. I can put some tea on the kettle. Do you have a specific kind that you like?” she turned to you, and you felt yourself clam up at the attention.

“Uh… well, I like most tea so I’m sure whatever you make will be just fine.”

“Peppermint it is, then. And you can call me Crina, dear. I do hate formalities.”

The inside of Crina’s home was as warm and inviting as she was. A small fireplace stood in the far back, a cozy fire crackling away in its hearth. Although it was all just one floor, each corner of the house seemed to be separated for its specific purpose. The kitchen was quaint, with fresh herbs hanging from the ceiling and charming porcelain plates neatly stacked inside of a glass cabinet.

There was a large plush couch and two armchairs placed around the fireplace, a beautiful violet rug resting in between them. Large shelves filled with books stood beside the fireplace, and a quick scan let you see that they were mostly storybooks, or tomes written on mythology and ancient cultures. A wooden kitchen table with two chairs on either side had a crystal vase filled with a bouquet of wildflowers on it, and a little ways from that, was a box filled with an assortment of children’s toys.

A curious thing for a woman her age to have, you thought.

Your attention was quickly directed to a rack that stood nearby, where beautiful shirts and dresses looked as though they were drying in the waning sun. They appeared homemade, by the looks of it, and you silently admired the craftsmanship as Crina went on with brewing some water for the tea.

“My mother was a seamstress when I was little,” Lisa said, as she approached you. “She’s very talented, and continues to make clothes for herself and for people in the village. I’ve told her that there’s no need, since we’re certainly not lacking in funds ever since I married my husband, but she still enjoys doing it.”

“That’s because,” Crina replied, as she walked to the kitchen table, a silver platter with three teacups, sugar, and spoons in her hands. “There is always a need for clothes and blankets. I tell folks that there’s no need to pay me, but they always insist on some form of compensation for my work.”

You took a seat beside Lisa, thanking Crina as she handed you a cup and filled it with the hot water from the kettle. “I can see why people urge you to take something in exchange, I haven’t seen such fine sewing since my grandmother.”

Crina grinned, lifting the lid off a small tin to procure a biscuit for you. “This one certainly knows how to flatter the ladies,” she teased.

You laughed as you accepted the treat, dunking it into your peppermint tea to let it soak up the flavor before popping the whole thing into your mouth. “Do you make clothing for the children, as well? I noticed the box of toys over in the corner.”

Crina took a sip of her tea, and nodded her head. “I sometimes make clothes for the little ones, but usually it’s just sewing back a button or replacing a stitch. I’ve recently become a sort of nanny for the village, watching over the children when I’ve seen how much their poor mother needs a break.”

Hearing this, a fond feeling settled into your heart, and you’re taken back to warm, happy memories of times with your own grandmother. You thought that they would get along, she and Crina, and the thought made you smile.

“Well, enough about me, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to--” she was interrupted by loud cawing from outside her window, Crina letting out a huff as she stomped over to see who was causing all that racket.

“Hugin and Munnin! Screaming your heads off is certainly not the way to grab my attention!” she shook her finger at the two, before she made her way to the kitchen and grabbed two chicken drumsticks from her meat storage.

“Who is she talking to?” you whispered.

“Do you remember the raven we saw, perched outside the window just before she noticed me?”

“Yes?”

“That one was Munnin. She has two ravens that visit her nearly every day for food and, remarkably, companionship.”

You blink, and then look over at Crina, who was cooing and stroking the head of one of the raven’s as it picked at the meat with its sharp beak and talons.

“Those ravens… are your pets?”

Crina turned back to you and Lisa, and shook her head. “No, no. I would never call them my pets. I like to consider them more as companions. Munnin is a sweetheart, she brings me presents, shiny things that she finds scattered throughout the village. Hugin is a big old oaf, but he means well.”

“Hugin and Munnin…” you mutter to yourself. “They aren’t by chance… named after Odin’s ravens, are they?”

“Oh! Astute this one!” Crina exclaimed happily. She shuffled her way over to one of the bookshelves and plucked one off the shelf, a worn tome whose spine was starting to tear apart. “I simply love reading about myths and legends from around the world,” she flipped through the text, which had elaborate drawings of Norse gods and inscriptions of famous stories. “So I thought it only appropriate to name my two friends here after Odin’s familiars.”

You thought it was cute, albeit a little unusual, that these two birds of prey became so attached to this kind old woman. It seemed as though you had opened the floodgates however, and Crina started going on and on about gods and goddesses, holy places and sacred places.

You knew some of the names she mentioned, having prayed to a few of them yourself, but you were surprised to find out how many deities you didn’t even know existed. Eir, for instance, was a goddess of healing, your speciality, and yet you never read about her in your studies.

Although you would have liked to stay and hear more about this secret passion of Crina’s, you felt your eyes grow heavy with exhaustion. You did not want to appear rude, and cut her off, but it was becoming more difficult with each passing second to stay awake.

Someone poked you lightly on the shoulder, which caused you to jump and blurt out,

“Yes, yes! I’m listening!” Lisa’s laughter brought a flush to your cheeks, your ears turning red from humiliation. “Are you tired, love?” “Who, me?” you feigned. “No, not at all--why?”

“You can’t lie to two mother’s, dear!” Crina said, a toothy smile on her face. “I appreciate you trying to tough it out to listen to an old woman’s tales, however.”

You sunk lower into your chair, mortified that they had noticed you falling asleep. “I’m sorry… I really would love to hear more about these legends, I’m just…” “Exhausted?” Lisa stated.

“Don’t worry your little head off, my dear,” Crina wrapped up a couple biscuits and handed the bundle to you. “Take this as my compensation for your time, and as a binding for that promise of future visits.” You eagerly took the cookies, setting them in your pocket for safe keeping. “Thank you. Now, um, do you want me to head back to the castle?” “If you think you can manage to stay awake, then by all means. If not, I have a cot that you can sleep on in my office, if you’d like.”

The offer sounded tempting, but you would much rather sleep in your own bed. “I think I can handle it.”

After saying goodbye to Crina, and promising Lisa that you make a swift and safe trip back home, you started the trek back to her office. You found Clara lounging under a tree, her head resting upon the soft ground as she watched the animals and bugs that lived near the creek.

When she saw you, she gave a delighted cry, standing up so she could trot over and greet you. You stroked her mane, before you leaned forward to rest your tired head on her neck. The aroma of grass, hay and sunlight made you feel at ease, and after grabbing your things from inside, you pulled yourself up onto the saddle and kicked Clara into motion.

A peaceful tranquility had settled over the evening, the hum of cicadas ringing in your ears as you made your way through the woods. Animals that had been busy foraging throughout the day were heading back home for the night, much like yourself. You spotted a few birds here and there, and even a small herd of deer, but other than that, it was just you, Clara, and the trees.

This was what you needed more than anything, just some time to be alone in nature. You took a deep breath, the scent of a fresh summer breeze filling your lungs. It gave you a bit of energy, just enough, you thought, to stay away till you made it back.

As you thought of the castle, your mind wandered. You had promised Adrian that the two of you would meet again tonight for lessons, but, you were sure he’d understand once you explained how tired you were.

Hmm… that boy… you mused, eyes glazed over as you recalled the smile he had given you this morning.

Your heart started to beat faster, and your breath caught in your throat, but you grimaced. There… there was no time for such foolish things.

Another tug at your heart, and the events that transpired in your dream came circling back around. You still had no idea what that voice meant about ‘the language’, but you found it rather odd that the wolf on Adrian’s shield had manifested itself. The more you thought about this dream, the more frustrated you became. What the hell did it all mean?

As you rounded over the last hill, the towering pillars of Castlevania rose up in the distance, and you clicked your tongue to urge Clara into a run. You kept telling yourself that you were just excited to get to bed and finally get some rest, but… that tug…

Clara whinnied as you reached the top of the garden path, and you looked down at her, concern laced on your features.

“What is it, girl?”

She craned her head, as if pointing out something with her snout. Following her advice, you glanced up and nearly fell out of your seat.

Waiting for you, at the entrance back into the castle, was…

“Adrian?”

You pulled on the reins to drag Clara to a halt, your breath leaving you in shallow puffs as you stared down at him. “What are you doing here?”

He walked over to you, a soft smile on his face. “It’s quite easy to spot a pure white horse amongst all of this green,” he teased, and laughed as your cheeks turned red. “I thought you might need some help after such a long day.”

There was that tug again.

You brushed some hair out of your face, and swung your legs around. “Thank you, but I can manage--” “Don’t be so stubborn,” he held out a hand for you, as he offered to help you down.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you told yourself to remain calm, he was just being polite. Your hand settled into his, your skin prickling with heat as he enclosed his fingers around it to ease you off Clara’s back.

When your feet touched the ground, you glanced back up to thank him, but your words seemed to fail you again as you stared into his brilliant eyes. It seemed as though time stood still as the two of you gazed upon each other, eyes half-lidded, and your hand still held gently within his.

He leaned closer, his warm breath fanning your face as he asked, “So, how did your first day go?”

You gave a meek laugh. “Your mother had me meet nearly every villager in Lupu, but by the end of it, I was so drained that I could hardly think to stay awake to begin my training.”

“You’re tired?” There was worry in his tone, his free hand reaching up to brush away some of your hair.

“I am but…” your voice trailed off, all senses lost in his eyes, his smell, his touch… “I could try and push through for our lesson.”

His fangs flashed in the dimming light as he smiled. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.” That snapped you out of your trance. “What?”

“Nearly keeling over with exhaustion, and here you are, worried about me. I’m touched.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as he started to laugh. “I didn’t think it possible for your ego to get any bigger, but here you are,” you echo. “Proving me wrong.”

His laughter slowly faded, and you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch up into a smirk as his fingers interlaced with yours and your cheeks rose red in color again.

“I suppose even the most arrogant of men must put aside their pride to take care of those they care about.”

Your heart leaped into your throat, and you cursed your legs for feeling so weak and wobbly as the two of you began walking to your bedroom. In spite of being a bundle of nerves, it was oddly calming, walking down the halls of Castlevania, hand-in-hand with Adrian.

You felt… safe, secure, happy.

It was almost a bit maddening how disappointed you felt when you saw your bedroom door, selfishly not wanting to part from him so soon. But you told that part of yourself to be quiet, and reluctantly pulled away from his grasp to instead grab hold of the doorknob.

You awkwardly cleared your throat, and pointed to your door. “Well, I… guess this is goodnight.”

“Just promise me that you’ll get a good night’s rest so you won’t be completely useless tomorrow,” he snarked.

“For saying that,” you retorted. “I’ll make sure I sleep in, just to spite you.”

“You just love tormenting me, don’t you?”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

There was that darn tug again.

But… you seemed to feel it as he drew closer, his blond hair brushing softly against your face. A spike of electricity shoots through your veins as you felt his warm lips brush delicately on your cheek, worried that sparks of magic would whirl off the tips of your fingers from excitement.

As he steps back, his fingers wrap around your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze before he whispers goodnight, your name tumbling off his lips like a ghostly whisper.

All you can do is give him a half-hearted wave as he disappears down the hallway, your body going to auto-pilot as you walked into your room and got ready for bed. Pulling the warm blankets around yourself, you were finally able to process what had just happened.

The memory kept replaying in your head, your heart leaping into your throat each time you did. Had that really just happened? It all felt like a dream…

Yes, dreams… what peculiar little things they were.

You thought of that voice, and you lifted up your hand into the air, rubbing your index finger against your thumb as though you held the hibiscus that you had imagined.

What did it mean… ‘the language’? And why was there a hibiscus of all things there too?

You rolled over onto your side as you wracked your brain to try and decipher these riddles. It was then that you had an idea.

The fairies, you thought, and sat up to look out the window of your room to see a view of the dark, sleeping forest below. I should go and see the fairies… they were in my dream too, so maybe they could have an idea about what it’s trying to say.

You nodded in agreement with yourself and lay back down, agreeing to go and find Aria and the rest of her friends after you were finished with everything.

A dreamy sigh leaves you lips as your body relaxes, winding down for the day as finally feel like you're... home.

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 13

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

It’s been a while since I’ve actually sat down to write, I guess. Things have been real quiet after all that mess we cooked up in Saint Denis at Colm’s execution. But quiet don’t mean I ain’t been busy. Especially since things have been a little harder since we still been laying low.

Me and Charles have been hunting quite a lot. Even convinced Marston to join us a few times. Don’t think that boy’s properly hunted in a long time, but he picked it back up real quick. There’s a bunch of wild hogs living around Shady Belle, so the eating’s pretty good. The pelts are plenty useful (and valuable), too. Plus, Emmeline and Hosea have been fishing, since we’re right by the water. They both got a knack for it, so everyone’s bellies have been kept fairly full even without us buying food from the store.

Those of us who’s more recognizable have had to stay out of the city, so the girls have stepped up to make us some cash to buy other things like ammo and medicine. All of them are mighty good at pickpocketing. And Karen and Mary Beth have some con devised to relieve gullible men of their money. Something about being poor widows looking for work, I guess. It’s working out, anyway, and they insist it’s all safe. Lenny and Kieran usually back them up just in case something would go wrong. It don’t bring in as much money as we’re used to, but we’re making do.

Emmeline tells me that when I’m not here, she’s been spending a lot time with Dutch. She’s happy to get to know him and he seems happy to make up for lost time with her. I guess he’s been telling all kinds of stories, trying to educate her on the evils of society like he has with all the rest of us. That’s what she tells me anyway. I haven’t really talked to him much actually. When I see him with everyone else, he seems like the old Dutch, like how he was before Micah came. Before Blackwater. But he still seems a little different with me. He don’t talk to me the same way, not exactly. I can’t really describe it, but he just seems a little off. And I ain’t so sure I like him talking to Emmeline so much.

Just the other day, I came back into camp and found Dutch and Emma sitting on the back porch overlooking the swamp. Neither of them knew I was there listening in, which I guess ain’t such a nice thing on my part. Still, I didn’t say I was there and just listened. He was telling her a story about something that happened years ago. I had run across this church that raised a ton of money from its parishioners to build this orphanage in the next town over. Something about it just didn’t seem right, so I dug into it. And I was right. It turned out, there was no plans for any such orphanage at all. The preacher was just raising money for himself so he could gamble it away or spend it on whores. So me and Hosea came up with a plan to steal all that money and dropped it off at the nearest actual orphanage. Strung that bastard up in his own church, too, so his followers could see him for the scoundrel he was. Now that’s what actually happened. But that’s not what Dutch told Emma. He told her he was the one that found the church. He thought there was something going on. He came up with the plan all by himself and he did it all. He didn’t even mention me or Hosea.

Emma, she thought the story was amazing, completely enthralled with Dutch’s knack for the dramatic. And the way she looked at him, like he was some kind of folk hero... I froze. I couldn’t jump out and tell her he was lying, as much as I wanted to know why he did it. I couldn’t break her heart like that, knowing that her father was lying to her right to her face.

But the thing is, Dutch has plenty of stories like that he could tell about himself. That’s practically all he and Hosea did when they was starting out. They was known as “gentleman scoundrels” for years because of it. They’d rob banks and trains, but never took from those who looked like they was poor. They even gave a bunch of the money they took away. It wasn’t until we started picking up more people that things really changed. Money got tight having to feed more of us, so we stopped giving it away. But I’m just wondering, why’d he take my story? Out of everything, why’d he choose to leave me out of my own story that he decided to tell Emma? I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. And that’s making me even more anxious for the day that I’ll have to tell Dutch Emmeline’s with child. I guess because I ain’t quite sure how he’s going to act. And it won’t be too much longer before we’re going to have to tell him and everyone else.

Emma’s belly has started to swell. You can’t tell much when she’s clothed, but when we’re in bed alone together, I can see it. Sometimes if she falls asleep before me, I just look at her and see how much the baby’s grown already. It’s amazing and beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. I know this baby is coming and when it does, I’m going to have to be a father. I don’t rightly know what I’m doing in that regard.

What if I’m like my own father? I don’t want that. Not at all. He weren’t a good father. Will I be like Dutch? Or Hosea? Or even John? I’m not sure if I want any of that, either. I guess John’s doing better now, but he ran away scared at first. And I suppose Dutch and Hosea taught me a lot and they didn’t raise their hands to me or nothing, so that ain’t too bad. But I don’t want to raise a child on the run. I don’t want to teach my son how to beat people or my daughter how to pickpocket. Or sell herself, god forbid. I don’t want my children worrying that if they don’t lie well enough to con some poor sap out of their money that we won’t have the means to eat. I don’t want them to think some lawman is going to come and take their daddy away and hang him in the town square.

I don’t want none of that.

“Arthur?” Emmeline’s voice draws him out of his thoughts.

He closes his journal swiftly and looks up to her. “Everything alright?” he asks as she approaches him.

Before she says anything, she takes a seat next to him on the ground. Though the air is hot and muggy, Arthur’s spot is nicely shaded from the large trees standing tall above them. He had seen the little clearing while hunting in the woods just outside of Shady Belle and thought it would be a nice place to get away from camp life without actually traveling too far.

“Everything’s fine,” she answers his question after situating herself.

“What are you doin’ out here? You shouldn’t wander too far from everyone.”

Emmeline laughs at Arthur’s overprotective nature. “It’s not that far from camp. I could practically see you the whole way over here.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on the fallen tree behind her to get more comfortable. “Are you alright out here?”

He looks over to her. “Course I am.�� He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. He isn’t usually so forward, but since they are away from prying eyes, he indulges in the contact. “Just wanted a little peace and quiet.”

“Oh. If you want me to go, I can-“

“Nah. I like havin’ you wit’ me. When I came back from hunting, I went to find you. I saw you readin’ with Abigail and thought that I didn’t want to interrupt while you was busy.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s doing really well with it. When she went off to get Jack something to eat, I went looking for you, actually.” She giggles at their shared behavior. “Sean told me you walked off this way after you came in, so I followed. I knew you didn’t go too far since you left Sparrow behind.”

“Hadn’t written in my journal in a while. I thought it’d be nice and relaxing to do it out here.”

“Were you drawing something?”

“Didn’t get that far, honestly. But since you’re here, mind bein’ my model?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

She laughs. “I’d be honored.” She fluffs up the hair around her shoulders to try to make it a little more presentable in its half up do, then changes positions so she’s resting her right arm on the log with her legs bent underneath her.

Arthur moves as well, finding a spot across from Emmeline to draw her in profile. Before he starts drawing, he leans back over toward her to smooth her skirt out around her legs, making it look better. “Now stay still.” He puts the pencil to the page, starting to roughly sketch the pose as she sits before him.

She’s never officially posed for anything before, but from pictures and illustrations that she’s seen, she figures a somber expression is what she should be portraying. After a few minutes of posing, though, she finds that the more serious she tries to look, the harder it is to suppress her giggles.

“You ain’t holding still that well,” Arthur comments as he flicks his eyes between the page and Emmeline, continuing to sketch. Though he’s acting all business on the outside, he’s trying hard to keep his composure as well.

“I can’t help it!” she says between giggles, her whole body shaking with the motion. “Nothing’s even funny, but I can’t stop laughing!”

It seems to be contagious as Arthur breaks out in a smile, though he’s still busy sketching. “It’s alright. I’m almost finished anyway.” It takes a few more minutes for him to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. Once he deems it finished, he stands up and goes back over to her.

“Let me see it,” she requests impatiently, making grabby hands at him before he even gets to her.

He sits down beside her then finally hands the book over. “Whatcha think?”

She laughs at first as soon as she looks at the page. The picture isn’t anything like what she thought it would be. Instead of the careful pose that she had thought would look best (and failed to do), Arthur had chosen to capture the way she looked trying not to laugh. Her shoulders are hunched slightly, one hand trying to cover her smiling mouth and the other is laying across her stomach. “Is that really what I looked like?”

“As best as I could get it,” he replies gently. “I like the way you look when you laugh.”

She smiles up at him. “Really?”

He tucks a lock of her hair that had fallen out of its pin behind her ear. “Yeah.”

She leans forward to kiss him, though the smile never leaves her lips. When she pulls back, she looks down at the journal still in her hands. “How many pictures of me do you got in this thing?” she asks teasingly as she hold the leather bound book up.

Arthur’s cheeks redden before he can answer. “A few.”

“Can I see them? I remember asking once before and you told me you would at some point. But you never have,” she remarks, continuing her teasing tone.

He clears his throat nervously. “Uh. Sure.” Taking the book from her, he flips through a few pages to find one of his better drawings. “Here’s one.”

Instead of taking the book from him, she leans over him, practically laying her head on his shoulder. The drawing depicts her sitting at the small desk in their room as she writes in her own book. She’s only in her nightgown, so she figures Arthur must have drawn it early one morning.

“I like it,” she comments cheerily. “Though you could’ve asked me to brush my hair first,” she jokes, referring to her rather bushy looking tresses.

He flips through more pages quickly, trying to find another good one. In the process, he skips over one that he’s a little embarrassed about, hoping that Emmeline wouldn’t notice it. Despite his speed, she catches a glimpse of it and sets her hand over his, stopping his motion.

“What was that one?”

“Weren’t nothin’.” He tries to flip though more pages, but Emmeline’s hand doesn’t budge.

“Arthur.” She looks over to him and he relents, allowing her to flip back a few pages to see what caught her eye.

Emmeline can tell the picture is definitely of her, seeing as she can see a lot of herself. She’s laying down on her side in their shared bed in Shady Belle, a thin blanket draped over her hips, only partly covering her lower half. Her torso is completely bare, with both her hands tucked underneath her cheek. Her hair is loose and unkempt, though there is an ethereal quality to it. The prominent shadows on her body indicate that Arthur had more than likely drawn the picture by lantern light late at night and it was probably quite recently.

She looks over to him, but he’s looking away, obviously embarrassed that he was caught with the risqué drawing.

“Arthur,” she repeats, trying to get him to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he responds, still not looking up. “You just looked so- I don’t usually draw things like this,” he stutters out, obviously flustered.

She takes his chin in her hands and pulls his face up to finally look at her. When he sees her softly smiling face, he’s a little confused.

He blinks a few times before saying anything. “You ain’t mad at me? For drawin’ ya like that?”

“No, Arthur. I like the way you draw me. And I like the way you see me. It makes me feel wanted. Loved.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, if I didn’t want you to see me disrobed, I wouldn’t do it in front of you.”

He smiles bashfully as his cheeks redden more. “I suppose that’s good to know.”

“However...” she takes the journal out of his hands, “I think it’s only fair that I get to draw you, too.” She opens it to a blank page and pulls the pencil from the binding, ready to start drawing.

Arthur shakes his head. “You don’t wanna put my ugly face on the page.”

“You ain’t ugly, Mr. Morgan ,” she asserts with a smile. “How any times do I have to tell you that?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her with a sheepish smile. “A few more times wouldn’t hurt.”

As they continue to look at each other, she finds it hard to think anyone would ever call him ugly, let alone himself. To her, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen and she can’t fathom there’s a better looking one out there.

She leans forward to give him a sweet kiss. “If there was a set of them cigarette cards for handsome men, you’d be number one.”

He throws his head back and laughs heartily, thinking the sentiment funny. When he looks back down, he’s ready to refute her claim, but she’s quick to shut him up with another kiss. This time, it doesn’t stay a sweet peck on this lips. The privacy of where they are spurs them both on to deepen the kiss, but both of them are unaware that someone is approaching.

“Ahem,” the unmistakable voice of Dutch Van Der Linde calls out from behind them.

Both Emmeline and Arthur back away from each other quickly and turn their heads to the older man.

“Hello, Dutch,” Emmeline calls out, hoping to get past the awkwardness of the situation. “Do you need something?”

“Arthur,” Dutch answers with a wave of his hand. “Come with me. I think we got a job.”

Arthur stands without a moment’s hesitation, then helps Emmeline to her feet. “Sure. What is it?”

Dutch quirks his head in the direction of the house. “We’ll discuss it back at camp.”

As the three of them walk back, Arthur can’t help but be excited. Even though he’s been more than happy to settle down a bit and get away from the outlaw jobs, there’s that part of him perking up that Dutch is asking him for help again. He’s actually more excited about the prospect of Dutch counting on him than doing whatever job he has lined up. Despite everything that’s happened over the last few months, Arthur can’t change the fact that there’s still a deep seeded need to have Dutch’s approval. That hasn’t changed since he was in his teen years. It’s what has made him such a good gunslinger, brawler, and rider. All those years wanting to hear “Good job, son” from Dutch have shaped the man he is today.

As the men continue on to the house, they part ways with Emmeline as she heads to the tents to help Tilly with the laundry. Once the men turn into what was the dining room, Arthur sees Lenny sitting at the old wooden table, apparently waiting for them to arrive.

Dutch holds his arm out to Lenny. “Our boy here has come to us with what has the potential to be a big score,” he explains enthusiastically. “It’ll be enough to finally get us out of here,” he adds wistfully.

Arthur doesn’t take a seat, but rather leans his shoulder on the nearby archway, facing Lenny. “So what’s this job?”

Lenny clears his throat and leans forward on the table before starting. “I was in Saint Denis waiting for the girls when I overheard some of the cops talking. One of them said he was being moved to patrol near the bank because they just moved a bunch of money from all over the state and stored it in the vault. He said they’re trying to keep it quiet so far, since they‘re waiting to get some military men in to guard it. Right now, there’s just a few extra policemen walking the street.”

Arthur listens to the young man eagerly at first, but the more he says, the more suspicious Arthur gets.

“See?” Dutch jumps in once Lenny has finished. “It’s an easy job. A bunch of money laid out for the taking,” he says gleefully. “It’s the perfect score .”

Arthur finally pushes himself off the wall and walks closer to the table. “I don’t know, Dutch. It seems real risky.”

“There’s no risk if we hit it soon, before they call in reinforcements,” Dutch explains pointedly. He had hoped that Arthur would fall in line on this without question like he used to.

Arthur shakes his head, looking away from the leader. “Don’t it seem too easy? Too perfect?” He shakes his head. “And I remember more ‘n once Hosea tellin’ me the perfect score don’t exist.”

Dutch can’t hold back the look of disdain in his face. “That was when you was young and dumb, coming to us with jobs you’d need twenty men to pull off!” He lets out a huff, then wipes his hand down his face to calm himself. “This ain’t like that. We’ve caught the law unawares before. They can make mistakes.”

“I know they can, but this just seems too convenient, Dutch,” Arthur asserts. “Not too long ago, Sean and Bill overheard a rumor about them taking all the money out of the Saint Denis bank in a train. They wanted to hit it, but I said no. It seemed like a setup to me. Like the Pinkertons was layin’ a trap just for us. Now we overhear that all kinds of money is just sitting in the bank with no one guarding it?” He lets out a huff. “Don’t that seem like an awful big coincidence? Like, we didn’t take the bait the first time so they’re tryin’ again?”

Dutch glares at Arthur for a moment before he turns to Lenny. “Will you give us a moment?”

Lenny looks between the two men before standing from his chair. “Sure, Dutch,” he replies, a little confused before heading to the door.

Once he leaves, Dutch turns back to Arthur. “When exactly did this happen?”

“What?” Arthur asks, not sure why that’s really important.

“When did Sean and Bill come to you with that job?” Dutch almost growls out.

“When you was...” he trails off, not knowing what to really say.

“When I was what ?” Dutch presses.

“It was right after we got here. You wasn’t yourself, Dutch.” He can see the rage start to build behind the older man’s eyes. “I didn’t wanna bother you with it so I told them to back off from it.” When Dutch’s face seems to drop more, Arthur adds, “Look, that ain’t important. What’s important is us not fallin’ for this trap.”

“You think you know better than me, Arthur? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”

“Then where’s your faith in me?”

“I got faith in ya, Dutch. I just don’t wanna get killed.”

Dutch lets out a huff, but he tries to steady himself. “We’ll be fine . We always are,” he tries to convince the younger man.

Arthur shakes his head. “There just too much to risk.”

“What are you talking about?! We ain’t got nothing ! Food in our bellies, but that’s it . And that won’t last! Especially if we have to winter here.” He goes over to Arthur and lays both hands on his shoulders. “We should have more . We could have more with this score.”

Arthur shakes his head again. “I can’t...”

“Why not? You’ve never had a problem before. You were always the one I could count on,” he tries to persuade, thinking he has Arthur on the hook.

“It ain’t...” He lets out a heavy breath, his mind conflicted.

Dutch thinks he has him, though. Arthur never was too hard to convince. Sure, there were maybe a few times that the younger man had some doubts, but Dutch always knew what to say to get him on board with whatever he wanted. He figures he only has to say a few more words before Arthur jumps on board. “Come on, son.” He pats him on the cheek. “Once we got the money to get out of this godforsaken place, it’ll be like old times again. But in Tahiti . We’ll make a new life there. A better one. But we need this money for that to happen. It’s the only way, Arthur.”

Arthur stares at the man for a moment, thinking it all over. He could easily say yes, like he’s done a thousand times before. Dutch was always much smarter than him. He always led the gang straight before. Without Micah around, that is. And Micah isn’t here, so maybe Dutch really does know better. But Arthur can’t seem to ignore the feeling of dread in his chest.

Dutch sees the wheels turn behind Arthur’s eyes. Just as he’s is sure that Arthur is going to relent, the younger man says, “I’m gonna be a father, Dutch.”

Dutch instantly takes his hands off of him and takes a step back.

Arthur continues despite Dutch’s reaction. “Emmeline... We’re gonna have a baby. And I don’t wanna get myself killed. I never cared much about it before; I never mattered. But I can’t leave her alone with a baby on the way. I can’t Dutch. I can’t take that risk. This job... it could lead to the rope. Easily.”

Dutch takes another step back but doesn’t say anything.

Arthur still continues. “I ain’t really sure what we should do for money, but I know robbin’ the bank in Saint Denis ain’t how we should do it. Even if it ain’t a trap, they gonna know it was us after and the Pinkertons will be right on our tail. We’d hafta move again. And I don’t know where-“

Dutch suddenly lurches forward and swings at Arthur with all his might, punching him hard in the temple. It easily sends the younger man to the floor. Dazed, Arthur can’t even try to stand up before Dutch heaves him off the floor by the back of his collar and drags him to the front door.

“What are you-“ is all Arthur gets out before he’s thrown off the front porch and onto the ground outside the house, catching everyone’s attention.

“Arthur,” Dutch calls out to the gathering people, “has decided to leave us!”

“What?!” Arthur groans as he tries to right himself. He’s only vaguely aware of the gasps and murmurs of the rest of the gang around him.

“He will be leaving immediately!” Dutch further explains. “He doesn’t want to be a part of our family anymore!”

Everyone looks on in confusion, including Arthur.

“I never said that!” he tries, but Dutch yells over him.

“He thinks he’s better than us!”

As soon as Emmeline rounds the house and comes upon the scene, she rushes over to Arthur, seeing that he’s unsteady in his feet as he’s still feeling the effects of the powerful blow to the head that Dutch delivered. “What’s going on?” she calls out once she reaches him.

Before Arthur can answer, Dutch does. “Emmeline, come here.”

She doesn’t move from Arthur as she examines the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. “Are you alright?”

“Emmeline!” Dutch tries again. This time he’s successful in getting her to look at him. “Come here.”

She looks away from him and back to Arthur, her worry for the man outweighing everything else. “Are you alright?”

“Listen to your father!” Dutch booms and everyone’s eyes snap to him. “Say goodbye, darling,” he says more sweetly. “Arthur’s leaving.”

“What? No. If he leaves, I’m leaving, too,” she announces defiantly.

Without hesitation, Dutch lunges forward and grabs Emmeline’s arm, harshly pulling her over to him. “I said come here!”

Arthur retaliates automatically, throwing his own fist into Dutch’s nose. It sends the older man reeling, but he doesn’t fall to the ground. Before Arthur can wind up again, Dutch pulls the pistol from his holster and points it right at Arthur’s head.

Everyone, including Arthur is frozen in shock. He’s had a lot of guns pointed at his head, but none of them were being held by someone he thought he could trust with his life.

“You gonna shoot me , Dutch?” Arthur almost whispers. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Leave,” Dutch spits back. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

When Arthur doesn’t move to leave, Dutch tenses minutely. Before he can do anything he might regret, Hosea finally steps between the two men, in front of the gun, though he’s facing Arthur.

“You need to leave,” he says calmly to the younger man, knowing that the situation will only escalate if Dutch and Arthur remain in the same place. “Take Emmeline with you.”

Dutch doesn’t object, but rather, holsters his gun and turns away to start walking back into the house. Before he gets to the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re family .” With that, he walks through the door and into the house calmly, like nothing had even happened.

Arthur can’t even say anything, like his brain is two steps behind. It’s not until Hosea pats his chest that he snaps back to reality.

Once Hosea has Arthur’s attention, he starts to speak. “It’ll only be a few days. I’ll talk some sense into him and we’ll come to bring you back.”

“I told him,” is all Arthur can say.

Hosea nods, though, knowing what he means. “He’s still not right, Arthur. I’ll talk to him while you’re gone.”

“But-“ Arthur starts, but Hosea doesn’t let him protest.

“You and Emmeline need to leave now,” he insists. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Still thoroughly confused, Arthur just nods, not wanting to fight it. When he looks over to Emmeline, she has tears in her eyes. She has no idea why Dutch kicked Arthur out, but she knows that she’ll never leave Arthur’s side. When she wordlessly takes his hand in her own, he realizes it, too.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan / oc #Arthur Morgan / Original Female Character #writehavoc Of Sons and Daughters #of sons and daughters #red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #rdr #writehavoc writes

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