#distraction leads to safety incidents

[lightning-neko]

[sonik-kun]

Reminder that canon Jiang Cheng is:

- Self-sacrificing. There have been numerous examples in the book where JC is willing to lay down his life for his family and sect without a second thought. Charging at Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu in the turtle cave. Stepping in front of his mother to protect her from the core melter hand. Distracting the Wen before they discovered WWX. Offering himself as a hostage in return for JL in the Guanyin Temple incident, etc.

- Fiercely protective of his family. The above bullet point elaborates on this part well. But I would also like to add that he is extremely protective of JL. He follows him on nighthunts and is the first person JL calls for whenever he is in trouble. The moment JL sends out a flare, JC is instantly in there, dropping everything for him.

- He allows JL to be a child. Despite the historic context and the stiff upper lip attitudes of that time period, JC allows JL to be a child still. He is spoilt rotten and never knew the same horrors those of his previous generation had to endure. JC does all he can to keep him safe from that to prevent similar incidents from happening again. He also allows JL to healthily express his emotions and never once scolds him for crying. The moment he sees him upset, he's in there soothing him, ready to throw hands with whoever hurt him.

- He doesn't use corporal punishment methods on JL despite it being the norm of that society. JL explains this to WWX who was shocked to discover that JC doesn't punish JL, despite his threats. JL is horrified by the notion and is very comfortable and secure around his uncle. Secure enough to give him sass even, something JC would never dreamed of doing to his elders.

- He is an excellent and attentive leader. He built his sect from the ground up and recruited people on his own all whilst he was still a teenager, still recovering from trauma and torture. He brought his sect back from the brink of annihilation and built it back up as a major sect on very minimal experience with little next to no guidance.

- He's politically savvy. From a young age, he was always socially aware of everything, valuing the safety of his sect and family above everything else. He correctly predicted WWX's downfall and tried so much to warn him and save him from it. Powerless in that moment, he chose his sect over WWX in fear of them being annihilated a second time should he side with him. WWX understood and respected this, so defected of his own accord.

- He still believed in WWX and held onto hope for him, even when things were looking bleak. Despite WWX siding with the Wen, the sect that almost annilihated his own, JC allowed WWX to go with them and remained friends up until WWX inadvertently got JZX and JYL killed. He still allowed WWX to see his sister and even name his nephew. They visited each other in secret regularly despite the risks of being caught, and JC tried to defend him even in the face of the three most strongest sects. He wasn't successful, but he tried.

- He is more reasonable and level-headed than the rumours lead you to believe. We see this when the prostitute comes to testify about JGY. He calmly considers her word and everything she has to say. Not once was he rude or snappy with her. He also remembers his etiquette and addresses elders with manners and respect. He may at times be quick to anger, but he is also quick to calm himself down and conduct himself properly as we see in his first scene where he lets "MXY" go, despite being a practicing demonic cultivator.

- He let's WWX go in the end. The moment he learns the truth about everything and that WWX wasn't entirely guilty for everything everyone accused him of, JC drops all feelings of aminosoty towards him. He doesn't blame him, nor does he actively pursue him anymore and demand he answers for his "crimes." JC got all the answers he wanted from him and instead of holding on to grudges and resentment, he let WWX go to be happy with LWJ, despite clearly wanting him to come back to Lotus Pier. He understands and respects that WWX is ready to move on and start a new life with LWJ. It hurts him, but he respects that decision.

There are many more positive traits I could discuss here, but I'll be here all day if I did.

JC is a nuanced character with a lot of flaws, but he also has a lot of positives that make his character realistic and relatable but also very likeable. He is a traumatised man with a troubled past, but he never allowed it to truly bring him down. He persevered, built up his sect, and raised a nephew with a pure heart. I think it's safe to say that despite his problems and despite everything he has gone through, JC is a survivor with a strong heart. He has a lot of admirable traits that you mustn't ignore or deny if you truly wish to enjoy and appreciate his character.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l six

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel opens up to you about a very traumatic loss; he makes a confession about his feelings towards you; you make a confession of your own and it leads to something more.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. fluff, infidelity, Joel and reader are having a full blown affair at this point, angst, talks of child loss (Sarah), lots of feelings come to the surface, two idiots realize they are in love. SMUT. oral sex (m receiving), size mention bc i will always be convinced our man is packing) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up pls), reader discovers she likes praise, creampie.

word count: 8.4k

August 2024

The next two and a half weeks that had passed by had done so without major incident, but things had taken a somewhat complicated turn.

You and Joel still manage to see one another a handful of times even with the exhausting amount of hours he’s been putting into his patrol duties, though it isn’t nearly as often as either of you wanted or would have preferred. But there was no other choice.

After numerous sightings of a group of potential raiders earlier on in the month, Tommy had no choice but to assign every last competent, able bodied patrol person, including himself, to work double shifts to ensure the safety and security of Jackson. He and Joel had come across the remnants of a campsite just about fifteen miles south of the settlement and they worried the group was hiding out, planning a violent, ambush attack on the community when it was least expected. Tommy had done his absolute best to keep the word from spreading throughout the commune to avoid causing a panic, but he found himself having to fess up when people went up to him and all but furiously demanded to know the truth—the real reason behind why their loved ones were now being asked to be on the other side of wall twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

Joel, who you’d come to learn is one of the sharpest and strongest shooters out of everybody in Jackson besides his younger brother, reluctantly took on the role of lead patrolman. He had been assigned an absurd amount of double shifts to work, including the overnight routes, making it almost impossible for you to see each other. You’d understood he had no choice but to comply, but still—that didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Both of you tried to make the very best of what little time you managed to get together, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. As if not being able to see Joel wasn’t agonizing enough for you, the fact that he was out on the other side of the wall scared the hell out of you. The only way to keep yourself from losing your goddamn mind was to distract yourself.

You did everything that you could to keep your mind off Joel being out there. Burying yourself deeply into your work helped for the most part.

Besides that, Joel had asked you, as a favor to him, to keep a watchful eye on Ellie in light of his absence. You’d spend most of the day with her in the stables, you would have lunch with her in the mess hall along with Dina, and in the evening, you would go home and make dinner early enough to fix an extra plate of food for her so she had a nutritious homemade meal to enjoy instead of two decades old canned ravioli. You would take it over to her place and drop it off before Luke came home from the clinic. Ellie waited until it was late in the evening and he was asleep to return the plate back to you, and the two of you would take a lengthy, late night stroll through the town, keeping each other company for a while before heading off to bed. She hadn’t seemed to be all too concerned about Joel, but then again, Ellie had known better than you did that he could take care of himself out there just fine. If anything, you spending so much time with her had been more for your benefit than hers, and you started to suspect that just like Joel had asked you to keep an eye on Ellie, he had also asked her to keep an eye on you too. After all, you had made it abundantly clear to him that you were nervous about him being out on patrol while there was a possible threat looming in the shadows.

By the time the middle of August came around, no additional traces of the group had been found—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, causing a wave of relief to sweep through the town. Tommy and Maria finally decided to ease up and end the double shift assignments, allowing every single patrolman and woman to return to their normally scheduled work rotations. Joel went back to his usual early morning and afternoon patrol hours, which meant that the both of you could resume your clandestine meetings out behind the barn underneath the stars.

“I missed you,” you say, sighing out contentedly as you lean back against him.

You and Joel are sitting out on the large, vacant patch of field behind the barn, his soft, green flannel blanket acting as a barrier between your bodies and the itchiness of the grass the animals would graze on during the day. You’re nestled in between his long legs, your back against his warm chest as the two of you share the delicious, ripe peach he’d brought along with him as a surprise for you.

“Mm, probably not as much as I was missin’ you, sweet girl,” Joel replies with a hum before taking a bite of the fruit. Noticing there’s only a couple bites of it left, he reaches his arm around and holds it out for you, his bulging bicep straining against the sleeve of his faded black t-shirt. “Here, darlin’. Want you to go on and have the rest.”

“These will be out of season in a couple of months.” Giving a sad little pout to nobody in particular, you sigh again and sink your teeth into the peach. Through a small mouthful, you realize, “Who knows when we’ll ever get peaches around here again.”

Joel’s lips meet the spot on your neck right behind your ear and you feel him grin. “S’alright with me. I’ve got my sweet, perfect little peach right here. And I’ve got her all year round.”

You playfully elbow him in his chest. After polishing off the rest of the peach, you lick off the pit and toss it out into the distance.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to litter,” he teases.

“It’s biodegradable,” you retort with a tiny laugh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and gaze up, admiring the stars that sprinkle the velvet night skies. “Or at least, I think it is. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention in life science when I was in FEDRA school. It was my least favorite subject.”

You gather your hair in your hand, bringing it over your shoulder to keep it out of Joel’s face. 

“Mm,” he whispers, licking his lips as his eyes fall to the delicate flesh of your exposed neck. He ghosts his mouth over your pulse point and his warm breath fans against your cool skin, prompting your eyes to flutter closed. “Just temptin’ me on purpose now, ain’t you, baby?”

“I would never do such a thing,” you object in an innocent tone, and he immediately clocks the smirk behind it. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you and while you’d normally welcome the peaceful, tranquil moment with him, tonight it feels impossible. You had gone so long without Joel over the last couple of weeks—at least, it had certainly felt long—and you realize one of things you’d missed most about him was the sound of his voice. “Ask me a question, Joel.”

“What kinda question can I ask, darlin’?”

Feeling brave, you offer, “You can ask me anything you want. No limits.”

Humming curiously to himself, he tries to think of something he hasn’t asked you before. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really, Joel?” You snort, trying to mask your laughter as he rests his chin on your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as he presses his cheek against yours. “I just told you that you can ask me anything you want and that’s your question? What’s my favorite color?”

“Yeah,” he answers, simply. “I wanna know what it is.”

He turns his head, lifting it off your shoulder to brush a gentle kiss to your temple. Joel could not, for the life of him, even remember the last time he’d shared this kind of physical tenderness with anybody. Forehead kisses, holding your hand, all sorts of little tokens of affection he didn’t think he could still be capable of giving to someone came to him so naturally with you. You had brought out an entirely different side of him, one that had been buried beneath his rough exterior for well over two decades, and the part that Joel still can’t quite wrap his own head around is that you’d done it with such ease. He’d go as far as to say that you had done it without even trying.

“So?” Joel prompts you. “What is it?”

“It’s brown,” you answer. 

“Brown? Why brown?”

“Because. It’s earthy, it’s warm—and your eyes are brown,” you state, grinning to yourself as you feel his loud laugh rumble through his chest and against your back. “What about you? I mean that’s if Joel Miller even has a favorite color,” you giggle teasingly, placing a hand on one of his denim clad legs. You then add, “Actually, I’m kind of curious now. Do you have a favorite color, Joel?”

Joel hesitates, momentarily holding onto his answer.

“I do. It’s purple,” he finally responds after a brief bout of silence. “Purple’s my favorite color.”

“Purple,” you repeat after him, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. “Really?”

Joel chuckles. “What? That weird or somethin’?”

“Uh, sort of. For one, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a favorite color in the first place—and even if you’d told me you did, I would have never in a million years guessed that it was purple,” you admit, sheepishly. You trace a small circle around his knee with your finger and curiously ask him, “Why is purple your favorite color?”

“‘Cause. That’s my daughter’s favorite color.”

You scoff playfully. “Come on, Joel. Ellie’s favorite color sure as hell isn’t purple. Her favorite color is green. But red’s a close second.”

When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him despite being in such close proximity. 

“I ain’t talkin’ about Ellie.”

At first, it doesn’t quite register, but after a moment of processing, the pieces click together in your mind. Joel has another daughter.

Your smile vanishes and you slowly turn around between his legs to face him. Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, you utter, “What?”

“Her name was Sarah,” he confesses, softly. 

Was. 

Your throat dries at his use of past tense.

Because you know exactly what that means. 

Opening your mouth to speak, words fail you and you close it. You suddenly remember the way he would tap dance around certain details of his first life in Texas. Whenever he would speak about his life before the outbreak, he would be cautious, careful to watch himself and his words. You’d known Joel had been keeping something from you, something he wasn’t ready to disclose to you for one reason or another—but never would you have guessed that him having a daughter would be the secret he had been hiding.

By now, you’ve turned your body around and you kneel in front of him, sitting back onto your heels. Not wanting to push him too hard or too fast, you clasp your hands together in your lap and wait silently—patiently—for him to continue when he’s ready.

“Sarah’s favorite color was purple. She’d wear it all the time. Her backpack, her school supplies, they all had to be purple or she wouldn’t use them. When she was nine years old, she begged me to paint the walls of her bedroom purple. One day, I took her to Home Depot after school to look at all the different shades.” He laughs, musing, “Didn’t know there could be so goddamn many of them. Anyhow, I told her I’d think ‘bout it. I went back to the store the next day while she was at school, bought a couple cans of the lavender shade I knew she’d like the best and by the time she got home, I had it all painted for her,” he explains, a sadness glazing over the fondness of the memory. “She loved purple. It was the color of the t-shirt she was wearin’ the last time we were together on the night of the outbreak.”

Your heart sinks. “Joel, you don’t have to tell me—”

“S’alright, peach. I wanna tell you ‘bout her,” Joel assures you, reaching out for your hand and taking it in his own. “I trust you, baby. Trust you more than enough to tell you ‘bout Sarah.”

Nodding, you lace his fingers together with your own. 

“I was never married,” he starts to say, knowing whether or not he’d also had a wife before the world ended would be a question on your mind—that’s if it wasn’t already. “I was never with Sarah’s mom. I met her in high school and we’d been friends up through senior year of college. We started to date then, but after a year, we realized we weren’t a good fit together. We broke up and a couple months later, we found out she was pregnant with Sarah. Her mom and me, well we both made an agreement to co-parent her as best as we could. Just a few months shy of our daughter’s first birthday, she realized she couldn’t handle raisin’ a child at our age. I tried real hard to convince her to stick around and keep tryin’ but I couldn’t get her to stay. She bailed out on me, but the worst part of it was that she bailed out on Sarah.”

He stops for a moment and you give his hand a gentle, but firm, encouraging squeeze.

“As if bein’ a father to a baby girl didn’t scare the shit of me, being a single father made it all feel so much scarier, y’know? I was young, in my early twenties. I was always workin’ so damn much, tryin’ to build my construction business with Tommy. Now I had this tiny little person to take care of, and I honestly didn’t know how the fuck I was gonna do it.” Joel pauses, his sixth sense detecting that your knees have started hurting from the position you’re in. He closes his legs together and pulls you to sit on his lap. “It wasn’t easy, and I probably made a lot more mistakes than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I made it work and it turned out alright. Sarah was my best friend in the whole entire world. Hell, I loved her more than fuckin’ life itself. She could be a handful, but she was perfect in every single way. She was my sweet little butterfly, my ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days.”

Swallowing harshly, you ask, “What happened to her, Joel?”

Joel sighs, resting a hand on your bare thigh. His fingers skim the scalloped hem of your floral shorts. “It was the first night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out of Austin. Me, Sarah, and Tommy. We didn’t know where the hell we were gonna go or what we were gonna do, but we just needed to get far away from the city. We got separated at one point when our pickup truck got into an awful wreck. I had Sarah in my arms ‘cause she couldn’t walk. She’d broken her ankle in the crash. Tommy told me to get her to the river where she’d be safer, said he’d find his way over there to meet us.”

Your heart begins to pound. Part of you almost doesn’t want to hear how his story is going to end—because in a way, you already know how it’s going to end. But if Joel is telling you about Sarah, it’s for a reason. He’s opening up to you, the way you’ve opened up to him. He’s sharing his heartbreaking loss because he trusts you—and Joel Miller doesn’t trust anyone that’s not his family.

Draping an arm around his shoulders, your fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck as you anxiously wait for him to recount the event that follows next, the event that will surely shatter your heart into pieces.

“The streets were crawlin’ with infected. One caught us in its sights and chased after us. Tried to dodge it through a buildin’ but it followed us, runnin’ us out into a field just a mile from the river. I didn’t think we were gonna make it—then, a soldier came outta nowhere and shot it dead. It felt like some kinda fuckin’ miracle. I thought we were lucky. I thought we were gonna get some help.” His voice grows hoarse, thickening with emotions he’s not too sure he can hold back this time. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was given the order by his command to kill us both, even though we weren’t sick. I tried tellin’ him over and over we weren’t infected, but it didn’t matter. He shot at us. He grazed me in my side, but Sarah—he got her. Got her multiple times. I was foolish enough to think it hadn’t been fatal. I tried gettin’ her up, begged Tommy to help me—but it was useless. Sarah died in my arms. Took her very last breath in some field outside of Austin.”

“God,” you whisper shakily, a sharp, painful ache shooting through your chest at the thought of him cradling his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms, her purple shirt soaked in crimson. “Joel, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Willing yourself to keep it together for his sake, you hold the back of his neck in your hand, fingers coaxing him to look up and meet your gaze.

“After that, I just didn’t see any point in carryin’ on anymore. I’d lost the most important thing in the fuckin’ world to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness now that my little ray of sunshine was gone. So, a couple nights later, I picked up my gun and tried to end my own life,” he confesses. Even though it’s been over twenty years, traces of shame still linger behind. “Put the barrel of a pistol to my temple. Told myself it was what I wanted to do and I pulled the trigger.”

Without thinking, you reach towards the scar on his right temple with your opposite hand, the one you’d noticed for the first time before he had kissed you in Ranger’s stall. You lightly brush your fingertips over the jagged, raised patch of skin. You’d wanted to ask him about it on several different occasions, but never had the courage to actually do it. Now that you know he’d gotten it from his own hand, it just makes the entire thing all that much more heart wrenching.

“M’sure you’ve guessed it by now, but I missed. I flinched and I missed. For twenty fuckin’ years, all I could do was wish I hadn’t missed. Spent a long time hatin’ myself for missin’ what should’ve been the easiest goddamn shot of my entire life. Then, Ellie came along.” Joel moves his hand, gingerly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “And not long after her, I met you, sweet girl. The two of you came at me outta nowhere.” He can’t help but chuckle, remembering his first encounter with Ellie, the way she had flown at him with her switchblade clutched in hand only to end up thrown against the wall. “You both came outta left fuckin’ field and brought out sides of me I thought had been dead and buried for years now. You and her, you mean more to me than I can fuckin’ explain. You’re the most important things in the world to me now.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his declaration. It’s not like you didn’t know Joel cared about you. Of course you know that. But the extent to which he did had been something of a mystery, at least up until this very moment.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way ‘bout anyone again,” Joel admits. He slides his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “Openin’ up my heart to Ellie, that was one thing. But openin’ it up to you? That’s been somethin’ else, peach. I don’t think you even realize the hold you’ve got over me and my heart. What really fuckin’ gets me is that you don’t even gotta try. All you gotta do is look at me with those eyes and give me that pretty smile of yours, and I’m fuckin’ done for. You’ve got me wrapped all the way around your little finger and then back again, baby. Y’need to know that I’d do just ‘bout fuckin’ anythin’ for you. You understand that?”

You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Joel,” you stammer his name, your nerve endings feeling like they’ve been lit on fire. “You really need to stop talking like that.”

“Why’s that?”

You don’t even think—you just blurt the words out before you can stop them.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The tables turn and it’s now Joel who is at a complete loss for words.

Embarrassed by your own admission, you begin to ramble nervously. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other long, but I can’t help it. And maybe it’s for the best if you know where I stand and how I feel. You still have time to back out of this—”

Still holding your chin, Joel carefully brings your face toward his, silencing you by slotting his lips to yours. He moves to cup the side of your face in his palm, forgetting about any kind of softness as he greedily licks into your mouth. He’s kissed you plenty of times before and you thought you knew all of his kisses well enough by now, but you’d been wrong. This one is different from all the rest. His lips move against yours in a possessive manner, but not the kind of possessive you’re used with Luke. No, with Joel, it isn’t a possessive stemming from control and abuse, rather, it’s out of pure need, want, and desire. Even as his mouth devours yours, there’s still a sweet, loving tenderness to it.

“Joel,” you whimper against him. “I—”

You falter, unable to say those three words. There’s something holding you back—maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that once you say them, you can’t take them back. Not that you would. But it’s a big step, and you’re not quite ready to say it, even if it is how you feel.

And he feels the same.

He deepens the embrace.

I love you.

Joel might not be ready to say it either, but he hopes the way he’s holding you and swelling your lips with his puts your mind at ease and reassures you that you’re not the only one who’s falling.

You shift yourself in his lap, moving to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your mouths remain fused to one another. He reaches and grabs for every single part of you that he can, running his hands all over you from your shoulders down to your hips, dragging lower until they’re unabashedly cupping the delicious curves of your ass. You whimper in his mouth again and the moment your lips part, his tongue takes advantage, darting inside to start the heated, unhinged dance with your own.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers curling around tight around fistfuls of his t-shirt in an attempt, and a very desperate one at that, to keep yourself planted on the ground. You hold on trying to keep yourself tethered to planet earth, but with the way his searing hot mouth moves with yours in perfect unison, it’s impossible. You’re free falling without a safety net, and you don’t even care. 

Seating yourself completely on his lap, you feel the bulge of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans and the wetness pools between your thighs.

Letting go of his shirt, you reach around him and bury your fingers in his curls, lightly tipping his head back as your tongue explores his mouth like it’s the first time all over again. Joel tastes like the sweet fruit you’d shared, a strange mix when combined with the mint from his toothpaste. But there’s something else he tastes like and you’ve tasted it several times before, however even after all this time, you still can’t figure out what it could be. It tastes like Joel. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. It just tastes like Joel and it’s addicting and you want it on your lips for the rest of your life.

After a minute, you and Joel finally force yourselves apart, your lungs and his begging for oxygen. 

“Joel,” you choke his name between heavy pants for air.

“Baby.” He’s about as breathless as you are, possibly even more. “Baby, please. I’ve gotta have you,” he pleads, hands now splayed on the small of your back. “Please. I fuckin’ need you. Or else m’gonna lose my goddamn fuckin’ mind.”

“Barn,” you rasp out, releasing your grip on his hair. 

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Barn?”

“Barn,” you repeat as you climb off of him.

You’re unsteady—incredibly unsteady. Knees wobbling, legs trembling and feeling like they’re seconds away from giving out underneath you. But you hold a hand out to Joel, exhaling a tiny, labored grunt as you help him up off the ground. Grabbing his blanket, you give it a shake before taking his hand in yours and leading him around to the front of the barn. Dropping his hand, you use both of yours to slide one of the double doors open an inch or two and take a peek inside to make sure the coast is clear. You then slide the door open a bit further, just wide enough for you and Joel to slip inside. 

“Wait a minute,” he chuckles as he watches you slide the door closed. “How’d y’know it would be unlocked?”

“I didn’t know it would be unlocked. I was just hoping we’d get lucky,” you admit, beckoning him for him to follow you. “Come on.”

Through various cracks and gaps and open windows, enough moonlight filters into the barn, shining a decent amount of light into the structure—enough so that it’s not pitch black and you two are left stumbling around in complete darkness.

Joel glances around. The last time he’d been inside the barn was back in June for the summer party. He remembered it having been cleaned and cleared out for the event and now, two months later, it’s packed to the rafters with countless bales of hay. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he walks, piles of loose dried grass and herbs crunch underneath his boots and he remarks, “There’s fuckin’ hay everywhere, darlin’.”

“Um, yeah. What else do you keep in a barn?” you jeer lightly, earning yourself a small scoff from him. “Hey, at least they don’t keep sheep and other livestock in here, Joel. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Joel snorts, masking his laughter at the thought of walking into a barn full of animals instead of an absurd amount of hay. “Yeah, guess that’s fair enough,” he concedes. “Might kill the mood if that were the case.”

You lead him over towards one of the far corners of the barn, your eyes falling to a large, almost bed sized pile of loose hay. Draping the blanket over it, you stand upright and then freeze, your body flooding with nerves once you realize what’s inevitably about to happen between you and Joel.

You hadn’t done anything with him since the night he’d pleasured you out on his front porch. Of course you wanted more, so much more, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. You’re so much younger, hardly have any experience—you’ve only ever been with one man, and even then, it hardly counts. It’s been such a long time since you’d found sex something you wanted, something you enjoyed. Whenever Luke touches you, it makes your skin crawl, but when Joel Miller touches you?

It sets you ablaze, leaves you needing more of it. Of him.

Part of you wonders if your touch makes him feel the same. What if it doesn’t?

His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you exhale the breath you’d been holding shakily.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Joel murmurs softly into your hair, sensing your pensiveness. 

“I’m just really nervous,” you blurt out.

“S’okay,” he says, quietly. “M’kinda nervous too.”

You’re slightly taken aback. “Really? What are you nervous about?”

Joel rests his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve both crossed a lot of lines already, peach. But this one? S’gonna be the one we can’t come back from,” he tells you. “Might be what seals the deal between us, y’know?”

Slowly, you turn around to face him. “Yeah, I know,” you respond, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. “And I know I should care, but I don’t. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“S’wrong,” he agrees with a tight nod. “But I don’t care either, sweet girl.”

Before you can utter another word about it, Joel crashes his mouth onto yours. He snakes one of his arms around you and lifts the other, cupping the back of your neck as he ravages you with his lips and tongue, kissing you with such urgency, such desperation that it melts you into a whimpering mess in his arms. Your mind is hopelessly lost in a thick, cloudy haze—all you can focus on is breathing him into your lungs like he’s the air you need to stay alive. His hands fall down to the hem of your white camisole and his mouth abandons yours to pull it over your head. He discards it, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere behind him. He then pushes your shorts and underwear down your legs and you kick them off along with your shoes. You’re now standing before him completely naked.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you take the hem of his t-shirt and clumsily tug it over his head, eliciting a laugh from him. You throw it somewhere over his shoulder to join yours and your hands eagerly meet his warm, bare chest for the first time. Biting down on your bottom lip, your trembling fingertips brush over several bumps and rough, raised patches of skin that you know have to be his scars. He has so many, and all you want to do is kiss each and every single one of them, but Joel has other ideas. He pulls you into his arms, flush against his chest, and he holds you tightly.

More often than not, Joel feels as if you’re not real—worries that you’re just a perfect, flawless figment of his own imagination. He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught onto what he’s been doing, but he steals moments like these whenever he can, moments where he stands there and takes you into his arms and holds you without saying a word.

It’s his own way of reminding himself that not only are you real, but you’re real and you’re his. Joel doesn’t care about the fucking ring on your finger. He doesn’t care that you’re promised to another man. He doesn’t care that he can only hold you in secret, that he can’t walk next you down the streets of Jackson in broad daylight and hold your hand while doing so. He doesn’t get to share a roof or a bed with you and he doesn’t get to join you for dinner at the table every night—maybe this isn’t how he preferred things to be, but he just doesn’t care. 

It doesn’t matter to him.

Nothing matters to him except for one thing.

Your heart belongs to him. It bleeds with his name.

You’re his. You’re all fucking his, and only his, in all the ways that truly matter.

And he is yours. 

Joel chokes out a strained groan as you press your plush lips softly against his neck, your tongue swiping across his pulse point. You firmly suckle his flesh, hard enough to break the tiny blood vessels underneath his skin and once you’ve left your mark, you trail your lips down his neck, eliciting another strangled noise from him. You sweep them over his collarbone, then down the length of his chest, showing each scar you come across with the affection it deserves. Your teeth nip and scrape at the softness of his belly and you quickly discover that it’s one of your favorite parts of him. Lowering yourself to your knees, your nose skims over the trail of dark, coarse hair below his navel and your fingers suggestively skim the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes widen. “You ain’t gotta do that—”

“I already told you, Joel. I want to,” you assure him, your voice low, sexy, filled with a lust for him and only for him. You make yourself comfortable, a challenging feat since you’d overshot the blanket and are now kneeling directly on the itchy, dried grass. It doesn’t matter, though—you’re more than willing to deal with discomfort for him. You place a hand on his hip and peer up at him. Your eyes meet his in the milky white moonlight. “You made me feel good. Please, just let me do the same for you?”

The nod he gives you is so subtle, so quick, that you almost don’t catch it.

He’d grown tense beneath your touch. 

You can’t help but laugh softly—not at him, but at the fact that he doesn’t realize that pleasuring him isn’t a want for you, it’s a need.

Gently, you pat his hip. “Relax, honey,” you encourage him, surprised at how the pet name rolls off your tongue with such natural ease.

Your hands reach for the button of his jeans and you swiftly undo it, then tug at his zipper. You start pulling the denim down his legs. Joel helps you, kicking off his worn, black leather boots before stepping out of his jeans, kicking the article of clothing off to the side. Heart racing in anticipation, you slide his dark boxer briefs down his legs, but stop short, breath hitching the second you feast your eyes on his cock. You’ve felt him through his clothes before, knew he was well endowed, but you’re still shocked to see just how big he really is. The mere thought of his hard, thick length filling you up and stretching your cunt makes your entire body ache with need. You can’t be certain how he’ll fit, but truth be told, he could tear you in half and you would thank him for it. 

Joel draws in a quick, sharp breath when he feels your small hand wrap around his base. Just as fast as he’d breathed it in, it’s knocked back out of his lungs when your other hand joins in and you run your fingertips along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He twitches in your hands—you’ve hardly touched him, haven’t even put your mouth on him, and he’s already teetering on the edge.

“Christ, baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, I hope y’know that,” Joel croaks, tilting his head back to look up at the rafters as he silently wills himself not to explode too soon. His hips involuntarily jerk forward as you lick his tip, collecting his leaking precome on your tongue before wrapping your soft lips around it. Another loud, ragged groan tears from the back of his throat as you take him in slowly, inch by inch, further into your warm, wet mouth. Your own moaning around him causes a vibrating sensation, making it harder for Joel to keep himself from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, peach,” he curses, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. He’s more than a mouthful for you, but you accept the challenge with eagerness and take him in further, gagging around him as drool dribbles down the sides of your chin. You, the same woman who just moments ago had said she was nervous about being intimate with him—whoever that woman had been, she was long fucking gone.

Joel’s eyes flit down and he sinks his teeth hard into his lower lip. He can see your silhouette as you work him with that pretty little mouth of yours. One glance is all he can handle before he’s squeezing his eyes shut, the pressure building in his lower abdomen and already dangerously close to reaching its peak. If Joel so much as looks at you again, he’ll come down your throat, and that’s not where he’s planning on finishing tonight.

You bob your head back and forth on his cock, your eyes watering each time he slips past the back of your throat—your cheeks hollow as you suck him greedily, and you alternate between that and stroking his long, thick shaft, your tongue swirling around his head.

Without opening his eyes, Joel reaches down with his hand and cradles the back of your head in his palm. The sounds that fill the barn are nothing short of obscene. His grunts and groans mixed together with the sounds of the moans you’d release in between your wet and sloppy slurping. He forces his eyes open and bravely takes another look at you, his heart slamming painfully against his sternum as you move your head faster, chasing his release as if you’re chasing your own.

“Fuck, baby—wait, stop. Need you to stop.” Joel’s hand leaves the back of your head and he cups your jaw, gently, but firmly, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, not if you keep on like that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” you ask, smirking up at him as you wipe the mixture of his precome and your saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand.

Joel leans over and takes your arms, effortlessly yanking you up to your feet. His hand dives between your thighs to get a feel—to find whether you’re ready to take him or not. He slips two fingers between your soaked folds without so much as a warning, causing you to gasp out and grip his biceps, your fingernails digging into the firm muscle. Joel withdraws his hand from your cunt, admiring the way his digits come back coated with your slick. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks his fingers clean.

That alone nearly makes you come undone, almost makes you melt into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his feet. 

“Joel,” you say his name pleadingly. “Please.”

Sliding his fingers out of his mouth, he steps forwards and curls them around your wrist. “What is it, my sweet little peach? Hm? What do you want?”

“You. I want you,” you answer. You’re quick to correct yourself. “No, I need you. I fucking need you—I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life, Joel.”

Leaning down, Joel skims the tip of his nose against your cheek before bringing it down along your jawline. “Where, darlin’?” he whispers huskily, sending a shiver up your spine. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Your mouth falls open slightly unable to say it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly shy, flustered as if you just hadn’t been down on your knees gagging around his cock.

“Tell me, peach,” he coaxes you gently with another low whisper. “Tell me where you need me. Tell me where you need my cock, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”

“Inside me.” Blazing heat floods your face. “I need you inside of me—I need you to fuck me. Please, Joel.”

“So polite ‘bout it, too,” he remarks. “What a good girl.”

Though he says it in a teasing manner, his praise nearly makes you collapse.

“You like that,” he realizes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, baby? Y’like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Fuck, I—yes, I do,” you confess.

“C’mere.” Joel wraps an arm around your waist, hand splayed over your back as he lowers you down onto the blanket. He follows suit. You both let out breathy laughs at the way your naked bodies sink down into the pile of hay. Propping himself up with his arm, Joel looks down at you, his smile fading as a serious expression crosses his features. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, finger grazing the silkiness of your cheek. “Y’sure ‘bout this, peach? Ain’t too late to stop.”

Smiling softly, you lift a hand to the side of his face, your fingers stroking his graying beard. “I’ve never been so sure about anything, Joel,” you promise him. “If you could take a peek into my mind, you would see how bad I want this, how bad I need this—how bad I need you. I don’t want to stop.” And you don’t just mean the sex. You don’t any of this to stop—the secret, late night meetings, the stolen kisses, the illicit affair. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, Joel.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Joel reaches down between your bodies, gripping his base, pumping his throbbing cock in his fist before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. Adrenaline courses through your veins—every nerve ending in your body is going up in flames. You spread your legs wider for him, hoping he’ll understand the nonverbal cue. He does. He begins to ease himself into your cunt and you hook a leg around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. The barn fills with the sound of his grunt and your loud cry at the initial stretch. He sinks his cock further into you until he bottoms out and you cry out again, feeling a delicious burning sensation as he cradles his hips between your thighs.

“M’gonna need you to relax a little sweetheart,” he whispers gently, ceasing his movements to give your body a chance to adjust to him. Joel takes advantage of having you pinned underneath him with your head thrown back and his lips latch onto your neck, hungrily. He fervently kisses his way down the column of your throat, nips his way to your collarbone—but unlike you, he’s careful to do so without leaving any kind of mark behind. He would give anything to have the freedom to leave traces of his loving all over you. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and the way he’s buried inside you to the hilt that brings out the primal in him, but Joel wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around Jackson covered in his love bites. He wants everyone to know he’s the one who’d left them behind, needs them to understand that you’re his. But that isn’t possible. Joel lifts his head from the hollow of your neck and nibbles lightly at your chin. “You alright, baby?”

Forcing your eyes open, you lift your head and bring yourself to look at him. At first, you feel discomfort, but after a minute, your body finally relaxes around him and it subsides. It’s replaced with the burning desire to feel more of him. The pretty glow coming in from outside the barn illuminates his face and you smile. “I’m better than alright. I’m perfect,” you assure him. You place a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heart thrum hard against your fingertips. “This is perfect.”

Joel kisses the tip of your nose. He slides out of you slowly, then right back into you in an experimental thrust that brings your body off the blanket, your back arching in sheer pleasure. It’s such a deliciously tight fit, and he almost can’t believe how fucking good it feels to be sheathed in your taut heat. He drops his head, taking your breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple as he bucks his hips once more. He’s being careful. Too careful.

“Joel—I need you to move,” you gasp. You drag a hand down his chest and over his soft stomach, letting your fingernails rake lightly over his flushed skin. It’s warm to the touch, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Joel, please. Fuck me.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to tell him twice.

Joel releases the pebbled flesh from his mouth with a loud, lewd pop. He pulls his cock out of your dribbling pussy, then slams back into you with such force that he places a hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place underneath him on the blanket. You wrap your own leg around him, locking your ankles together, your heels digging into the firm curve of his ass. You lift your hips just as he rolls his own right into them. The new angle gives Joel the opportunity to fuck you even deeper and he hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto him, moans you’ve never heard come out of your own mouth before ringing in your ears and in his. He starts picking up his pace.

“Baby.” He’s breathless and speaks between every snap of his hips. “Fuck, y’feel s’good—s’tight around me—”

“Don’t stop, Joel. God, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead him, your finger burying themselves in his hair. “Keep going, just like that—fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me—”

You bite down on your bottom lip, adoring how Joel squeezes his dark eyes shut each and every single time the head of his cock brushes that one particularly deep spot inside of you. Knowing that you and your body has this kind of an effect on him, it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve spent the last couple of years allowing a pathetic excuse of a man—if one could even call him that—pick on you, say things about your body, and make you feel like your inability to conceive a child made you defective. Worthless, even. And here’s a real man, one who makes you feel beautiful with the way he talks to you, the way he kisses you, touches you, and fucks you. You’re not perfect by any means, but Joel Miller makes you feel what your own husband doesn’t.

He makes you feel like you’re enough. More than enough.

The barn fills with a combination of moaning, panting, and the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin.

Glancing down at you, Joel shakes his head and warns, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, baby. M’so goddamn close.”

An unexpected wave of courage washes over you. Planting your hands firmly on his chest, you take him by complete surprise and slide out from underneath him. A small grunt escapes him as you push him onto his back. Amused, you can’t help but giggle at the shocked expression on his face as you guide him to lie down on the flannel blanket. Eager to see his reaction, you keep your eyes trained on his face as you straddle his lap. You grip the base of his cock in your hand and then slowly sink down onto him, your cunt greedily squeezing him as you slide down until you’re fully seated.

Joel’s jaw falls slack. It’s the most stunning sight he’s ever seen.

You, completely naked on top of him, your pouty lips plump and swollen from his kisses. Your smooth, supple skin glows in the moonlight shining through the open window behind you. All while every inch of Joel’s cock was buried deep inside of you, head nudging at your cervix. Eyes glimmering devilishly, the sexiest little smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Like what you see?”

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

You’ve rendered him speechless. 

Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your hips. His blood roars in his ears and his fingers dig into the pillowy soft flesh, holding on as you begin to rock them back and forth. You throw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulder. The friction of your clit against his pelvis heightens your pleasure. Joel had thought he would be the one to topple over the edge first, but he’d been wrong.

Eyes pinching shut, you start bouncing yourself on his cock, your desperation mounting. You feel the tension between your hips coiling back tightly, ready to snap forward.

“Fuck, Joel—I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ come for me, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers digging even harder into your hips. One of his hands abandons your side and he reaches up and gently takes your slackened jaw in the palm of his hand. He coaxes you to look down at him. “Need you to be a good girl and look at me, peach,” he instructs you, slipping his thumb between your parted lips. “Need to see that pretty face of yours when you come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck!”

Crying out, you unravel and fall apart all over him, the ecstasy blurring the edges of your vision. 

It doesn’t take Joel much longer to follow. He lets out a low, guttural growl, choking out a string of profanities as he slams you down onto his lap and holds you in place, spurts of warm come coating your velvet walls. Your pussy squeezes him, draining him of every last drop.

You collapse forward onto him in a sweaty, whimpering mess and he wraps his arms around you. With him still inside you, you both lay there and try to catch your breaths as the high slowly but surely begins to wear off.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls out of you and he shifts your bodies, moving you so you’re now laying beside him. Tucking you against his side, he slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you even closer. His other hand finds one of yours and he takes it, bringing them both to rest on his chest.

“You alright?” he asks you, lacing his fingers together with yours.

“I’m great,” you answer him tiredly, prompting him to chuckle. “What about you?”

Joel strokes at your hair. “Never been better, sweet girl.”

You groan. “Joel, don’t do that,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You’re going to put me right to sleep.”

He laughs again. “We’ve still got a bit more time, y’know. If you’re tired, you can take a quick nap. I can wake you up in ‘bout an hour when it’s time to head home.”

“No, that’s okay,” you decline the offer, worried he would accidentally fall asleep too. “I really wish we could sleep together—I mean, actually sleep together. In an actual bed. Not having to worry about anything. Just like normal couples do.”

“Well, we ain’t exactly a normal couple, darlin’.”

“No, we’re definitely not,” you murmur. You don’t even realize how sad you’d sounded until you feel Joel give your shoulders a comforting squeeze. 

Neither of you say anything else about it as you spend the next hour laying there, tangled up in each other’s embrace, waiting until it was time to go your separate ways.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I turned my coworker in for using his phone?

☎️ for obvious reasons.

So I’m gonna put this up front: this isn’t actually about the phone, it’s about the coworker. The phone is just convenient.

Our players are me (35 AFAB), Coworker A (~30 M), Supervisor C (N/A M), D (N/A F), and L (N/A F).

So first, the reason I have beef with A: he has never had a conversation with me that didn’t involve hitting on me and/or inappropriate questions. These have included demanding to know who I voted for, how my paycheck is delivered, whether I’m in a throuple with my roommates, and whether I have a boyfriend, which wouldn’t be weird except it was literally the first question he ever asked me—he didn’t even know my name yet. After I yelled at him over the voting thing because he refused to take “I don’t discuss politics at work” for an answer FOUR TIMES, he tried to break my glasses when I put them down so I could put on my safety goggles.

You may be wondering why I haven’t turned A in for harassment, ESPECIALLY after the glasses incident. I have. The problem is, he’s very good at looking pathetic and saying “I was just _________.” In this case, he was just looking at my glasses (never mind that you shouldn’t be playing with someone else’s expensive medical device!), and just making conversation. In spite of the fact that he was ignoring his trainee and distracting me from my work, he somehow got away with this. After a few of my screwdrivers went missing the same day he went pawing through them and he broke my brand-new pen, C told him to stop having anything to do with me, that his attention WAS NOT WELCOME.

Now we get to L and D. They’re two of our coworkers who can solve just about any problem you have. Ever since A was warned off, I’ve noticed that if I’m working with L or D, suddenly A needs all kinds of help that keeps bringing him over to our machine, and he always seeks out help from whoever it is I’m working with—if I’m with L he’ll go to L, if I’m with D he’ll go to D. If you’re a dude and think I’m overreacting, go ask a couple of the women in your life—you probably know someone who’s had similar experiences. (And for the record, another coworker I only know to say hello to has commented that his behavior toward me makes her feel like “he wants to wear your skin or something.”) I don’t think A is actively dangerous, but he’s very clearly a creep—especially because he also has a girlfriend and baby and still keeps doing this.

Now we get to the phone. I work in a factory where we’re not allowed to have phones on the floor because we work with food product and a phone dropping in a box is a huge contamination issue, on top of which distraction at my job can lead to life-changing, possibly even life-threatening injuries. (I was on a machine that threw its chain drive once and the only reason I didn’t lose an eye is because there happened to be another machine piece between me and the snap.) So: phones are a big no. Management will look the other way for people in extenuating circumstances, like having a sick kid at home, but in those cases your phone is to remain in your pocket and if it rings and you need to answer, you have to leave the floor.

I have caught A texting FOUR TIMES in the last month. Once I caught the words on his phone screen, and he was making plans for a party. That’s definitely not extenuating circumstances, and twice I’ve found his phone in the product catch tray.

So: very against rules that are there for the safety of us and our end users, and if I turn him in he’s going to get a writeup and possibly even a termination, which would mean I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. On the other hand, if he gets fired for violating safety standards he’ll have a hard time getting new work, and his baby doesn’t deserve hardship just because Dad is a creeper. Also, while I don’t carry my phone on the floor, I worry that turning him in could lead to a blanket ban that affects those in extenuating circumstances, because I’m almost positive he’d try “I was just checking on the baby” as his excuse.

WIBTA?

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi could I get a natsu x reader where before Lucy joined the guild natau and the reader go on a mission together but goes horribly wrong which causes the reader to go in a coma and doesn't wake up when Lucy joins and when the reader wakes up she looses her memories so natsu does everything to get them back for her making him feel guilty

Burning Memories

Word count: 3198

Paring: Natsu x fem reader

Warnings: Amnesia, possibly ooc Natsu, the timeline may be wonky but hey whatever, let me know if I missed anything

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for the request. Sorry it took a while but I’m happy with how it turned out. The ending isn’t perfect but if anyone is interested I’d be willing to make a part two. Anyways I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   He had no idea what went wrong. It was supposed to be an easy mission, kill the monster and collect the reward. That’s it, they had done this kind of job hundreds of times so how did it go so wrong. Watching the beast slam Y/n into the wall behind him scared him. Not because he feared for his own safety, but because why wasn’t she moving. That was the only thought going through the Salamander’s mind.

   After barely managing to distract the monster, he grabbed Y/n and ran. Natsu’s only priority was getting Y/n back to Fairy Tail and getting her help. As he rushed back to the guild hall with his unconscious partner, he couldn’t help but thank whatever higher power that their job wasn’t far from Magnolia. After all he wouldn’t trust just some random person to take care of Y/n.

   When he arrived at the guild hall, he was greeted at first with the normal ruckus of the Guild. But as soon as they noticed the wizard in his arms and the panicked look on his face, every one went silent. Makarov acted first, instructing Mirajane to lead Natsu to the infirmary and ordering for Gray to fetch Porlyusica. Once Natsu had laid Y/n in one of the beds he refused to move until he knew how Y/n was doing. It took Gray and Elfman to pull him out of the room so Porlyusica could check on her.

   The wait for news was stressful to say the least. If anyone walked into the guild hall at that time they would see two things. First being that the entire guild was silent, and second being Natsu knocked out and trapped by one of Freed’s enchantments. It was the best bet for everyone to knock him out because while he was awake he wouldn’t stop trying to get back to the infirmary.

  After what felt like hours Makarov and Porlyusica exited the room. As if sensing a change in the room Natsu shot up slamming into the invisible wall around him. “How is she? Is she ok? Let me outta this thing.” He was frantic as he tried to get out and to his friend.

  “You’re not leaving that enchantment until you calm down. As for Y/n, all we can do is wait. She’s still unconscious and we are unsure when she’ll wake up.” Makarov said, silencing the fire wizard. Everyone else in the Guild was silent taking in the information, one of their own was hurt and there’s nothing else they could do. Eventually Porlyusica left the hall, leaving the Fairies to worry by themselves.

   After about a month there was no sign of improvement in Y/n’s condition. She still laid in the infirmary bed unmoving. Natsu had spent nearly every day sitting by her bed telling her about everything that has been happening in the Guild. And not that he would admit it but when it got late and Happy would fall asleep on the unconscious girl’s chest, Natsu would beg for her to just wake up so he could apologize for letting her get hurt.

   It had been another two months with no sign of improvement in Y/n’s condition, and Natsu hadn’t gone on a job since the incident, wanting to be there when she woke up. But eventually a rumor reached the guild hall of a so-called Salamander in the port town of Hargeon. After much convincing from Happy and Mirajane, Natsu finally left the guild hall. If there was no sign of Y/n waking soon he might as well see if this Salamander was Igneel.

   Time skip

    Now four months after the tragic incident, there was still no sign of improvement. Even though she had long since healed from the injuries, Y/n was still in a coma. And while the entire guild was worried about her they all continued to go about their lives. Natsu even somewhat returned to his normal self. Fighting with Gray over random things and going on jobs with Happy and Lucy. Even if he began to settle back into things, he couldn’t shake the guilt he felt over his comatose friend.

    Not wanting her to think he forgot about her, Natsu would take one day after each job where he would sit with her and just tell her about how things had been going. He knew she likely couldn’t hear him but it gave him a sense of peace to talk with her again. There was also a small piece of him that hoped talking with her would help her wake up sooner. And that’s how life went for the dragon slayer, for some time. Go on jobs with Lucy and then return to the guild hall to update Y/n about how the job had gone.

    Time skip

     After taking an S-Class job without permission, being nearly killed by Erza for taking said mission, and finally completing the job; all Natsu wanted to do was get back to the guild and update Y/n on how he completed an S-class job. But what he was not expecting was to enter the guild hall and be faced with the clearly wide awake Y/n speaking with Mirajane. He was rendered speechless as he took in the sight. His best friend who had been unconscious for months was up and walking around like nothing happened.

    “Hey Flamebrain, are you going to actually go in or are you just going to block the door?” Gray asked, trying to get Natsu to step into the guild hall instead of standing frozen in his spot.

    Natsu didn’t respond, he just kept his eyes focused on Y/n’s smiling face. So many emotions were running wild in his mind, not knowing how to respond to this new development. The group behind him, looked around the frozen mage three of them being just as stunned by the sight and the fourth being slightly confused.

    “Who’s that talking with Mira? And why do you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Lucy asked not having seen Y/n before now.

     “It’s Y/n.” Was the only response she got from Natsu before he moved across the hall.

     The blonde took a moment to process what he said before realization struck her. “Wait, that's Y/n. But I thought she’s been in a coma since before I joined the guild?” She asked turning to the Ice wizard next to her.

     “She was, but I guess she woke up while we were gone.” Gray answered, also moving to greet his friend. Erza and Happy also followed, excited to check on their friend.

     As the group arrived next to Y/n and Mira, Natsu was once again at a loss for words. Unsure of how to speak to Y/n after spending so long talking and not receiving any response. When he finally settled on what to say, He was cut off.

   “Gray, Erza it’s great to see you guys. I’m sorry to have worried you guys for so long.” Y/n said smiling at the two wizards, completely ignoring the pink haired man beside them. “How did your mission go?” She asked.

    The small group all shared a slightly concerned look, because prior to the incident, if Natsu had gone on a job without her, Y/n would immediately demand an update on how it went. But now, she showed no sign of interest in Natsu, not even looking in his direction. “It went pretty well, if it wasn’t for the hot head over here though I might have died.” Gray said, taking notice of the clear confusion on her face when he pointed to said hot head. “Anyway, how are you doing? When did you wake up?” He asked.

    Y/n shook off the confusion, before smiling back at Gray. “Oh, I’m good. I woke up yesterday. Again I’m sorry for causing so much trouble, you all must have been super worried.” She said, glancing to the side at the somewhat familiar stranger next to her. “It also looks like we got a few new guild members. Hi, I’m Y/n it’s nice to meet you both.” Y/n turned to where Natsu and Lucy were standing holding out her hand for them to shake.

    That one interaction caused Natsu to finally break. “What do you mean ‘nice to meet you’ ? You've known me for years. We’ve been partners for years. Hell, I sat with you almost everyday while you were in your coma.” Natsu said his anger was bubbling up. He didn’t mean to sound upset or rude, he was just confused. Had Y/n really forgotten the last five years of her life? No that wasn’t it, she was talking with Gray and Erza like she normally would.

     “I’m sorry Natsu, I should have had someone meet you at the door and worn you. For some reason it seems that Y/n has forgotten some things.” Mirajane said, taking notice of the troubled look that was now present on Y/n’s face.

     Mira’s words however did nothing to calm Natsu, if anything it made things worse. “What do you mean ‘some things’? She clearly remembers all of you. It’s clear that I’m the only one she forgot.” He snapped, causing the whole guild hall to fall silent.

     “Hey calm down Natsu, I’m sure she’ll remember you soon. She was in a coma for almost five months, you have to give her time to readjust.” Gray said, placing a hand on Natsu’s shoulder hoping to calm him down.

     Natsu just scoffed, shrugging the wizards hand off of him. “Easy enough for you to say. Y/n remembers you.” He said turning away from the group. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk. Are you Happy?” He asked the cat as he began to make his way out of the guild hall, through the back doors. 

    The blue cat looked at his friends who were slightly shocked from the wizard’s outburst. “I’ll try to talk to him. It’s good to see you awake Y/n.” Happy said before conjuring his wings and flying after his friend. “Wait for me Natsu.”

     After the door closed behind the two, all eyes were on Y/n. “Hey are you alright?” Gray asked, noticing that the girl was holding back tears. 

     Y/n just shook her head. She had no idea what just happened, but seeing the pink haired wizard upset and storming out of the guild hall because of her made her heart hurt for some reason.

    “You really don’t remember Natsu, do you?” Erza asked, concerned for both her friends.

    Processing the question, Y/n tried to dig up any memories of the fire dragon slayer, but came up blank. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know who he is.” She said shaking her head, trying to pull up the missing memories was really irritating her. “Really, I’m sorry. I want to remember him. I never want to hurt my friends in any way, but I just don’t know who that is.”

    The group was silent and eventually the rest of the guild went back to their regular conversations. After thinking for a moment, Lucy got an idea. “Wait, you remember Happy don’t you?” Lucy asked, receiving a nod paired with a confused look. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Lucy, a celestial wizard, and don’t worry about having forgotten me, I joined while you were in your coma. But anyway, if you remember Happy then you should have memories of Natsu. Afterall, they never really leave each other’s side.” Lucy explained her idea after introducing herself.

   Y/n thought for a moment trying to remember anything that had to do with Happy. Of course she remembered the blue cat who could fly and talk, but even looking back she couldn’t remember the pink haired wizard. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can remember Happy clearly, but I still have no idea who this Natsu is.” She said, holding on to her hair in frustration.

   “Hey it’s okay, you went through a lot. Just relax, I'm sure the memories will come back with time.” Erza said, resting a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “For now we just have to be patient and try to jog your memory somehow.”

   Y/n just nodded. “I should go talk to him though. He’s upset with me and I don’t know why but it hurts to know that I caused his pain.” She said looking at the requip wizard. “Do any of you know where he may have gone?” She asked, looking at her friends.

   “I don’t know if that’s a good Idea Y/n. Natsu’s a hot head, and he seemed really upset. Maybe you should give him some time.” Gray said, hoping to persuade Y/n to not go after the mage. Seeing the look of desperation on her face, Gray sighed. “Fine, He’s probably sitting at the beach behind the guild hall.” He pointed towards the back of the hall.

   She nodded in thanks before running out of the hall. Y/n may not remember Natsu but she felt the need to make sure he was okay. Once outside she looked to the shower line, seeing the pink haired wizard sitting with his knees to his chest. Next to him sat Happy who looked to be trying to cheer him up.

   “What do you want? It’s not like you know me, so why are you out here?” Natsu spat, not even turning around.

   Resisting the urge to turn around and leave, Y/n just walked closer and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you are okay. Even if I don’t know you, my emotions are responding to yours.” She said, hoping to get him to open up.

   He just turned to look at Happy who sat on his opposite side. “Yeah right, Erza or Gray probably sent you to try and get me to calm down.” He was being defensive. Natsu wanted to believe Y/n so badly but he couldn’t get his hopes up. 

   “That’s not true. I came out here because seeing you so upset because of me hurt. It felt like my heart was going to break if I didn’t come check on you. My mind doesn’t know you but my body does. Please just talk to me. I want to know why I feel this way.” Y/n practically begged the Dragon slayer to listen. She didn’t know why she was so desperate for him to talk with her, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling.

   Natsu sighed before looking out at the water in front of them. “We’ve been best friends since you joined Fairy Tail five years ago. It was alway me, you and happy going on jobs and kicking ass.” Natsu began explaining. Y/n just listened hoping that something he said would trigger a memory. “You even helped me kick Gray’s ass a few times. On long train rides you’d do anything to keep my mind off my motion sickness. If you were having a bad day, I was the first to know. Everything was great until five months ago.” He reminisced, looking over hoping something clicked for Y/n.

  “When I got put in a coma?” Y/n asked, earning a sad nod from her companion. “I remember going on a job that was supposed to just be taking out a monster that was causing trouble in the forest, but something went wrong. Next thing I knew I was in the guild hall being told it’s been five months.” She explained what she remembered, curious what Natsu had to do with it. “But I thought it was a solo job?”

   Natsu shook his head. “You’re right about the monster in the woods causing trouble, but it wasn’t a solo job. We took the job because it was routine for us, track down the beast, roast it, and collect our pay. But apparently the job request got put on the wrong board.” He explained looking back at the water. “It was supposed to have gone up on the S-Class board, but was put on the regular one by mistake. Anyway, we went out looking for it and quickly found it in a cave. It was going fine until I looked to make sure Happy was ok and the beast grabbed you.” He was gritting his teeth at the memory. “By the time I heard your scream, you had been throwing into the wall. I acted as fast as I could distracting the beast, before grabbing your limp body and running as fast as I could to the guild hall for help.'' By the time Natsu finished retelling what was surely one of the worst days of his life he was holding back tears.

   Y/n sat stunned hearing the whole story of what had happened that day. “Wow, I’m so sorry. If I was stronger than I wouldn’t have gotten hurt like that and I would still know who you are.” Y/n said playing with the sand beneath her feet.

   “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault. If anything it’s mine for not realizing that the reward on the job was too much for a regular request. It’s my fault for not keeping an eye on you. It’s my fault for not being strong enough to protect you.” Natsu said, each sentence conveying more of his guilt. “I’m sorry, Y/n because I was weak, you got hurt and lost five months of time. If anything, you forgetting me is like my punishment for failing as a friend.” He finished, his tears that he was holding back now freely falling down his face.

    As Natsu buried his face in his scarf, Y/n was at a loss. “It’s not your fault. I may not remember exactly what happened but you can’t take the blame. And you can’t possibly think me forgetting you is just punishment for you. It’s hell finding out that there’s this person who I apparently spent so much of my life with that I no longer remember. I want to remember you, every fiber of my being is begging me to recognise you, but nothing comes up.” Y/n said, letting her tears fall. “If we truly are as close as you say we are, please help remember you, Natsu.” She asked, looking him in the eyes when he turned to face her.

   Coming to a decision, Natsu quickly jumped to his feet. “Right, I can help you get your memories back. It’s my fault you lost them therefore it’s my responsibility to help you get them back.” He said proudly looking at Y/n, offering a hand to help her up.

    “How do you plan to do that Natsu?” Happy asked, flying to be eye level with the two humans.

    Natsu thought for a moment before responding. “I’m not entirely sure, but I won’t give up until Y/n remembers everything.” He said, earning a sigh from his cat and a chuckle from his friend.

    It was true, none of them knew how to bring back Y/n’s memories, but Natsu was not going to give up. He would spend the rest of his life trying to help Y/n get her memories back, and if that didn’t work he would just make new ones with her.

[madamesinsalot]

What if...

Sun had the virus and completely embraces it and the effects it causes for the sole purpose to win you as his no matter the cost? The kicker? No one but a close coworker is aware of this.

I made a short snippet of the event taking place if you wanna read a little. Please enjoy!

You have an older relative, an uncle, who’s known to be working at the Mega Pizzaplex for years as a janitor. He hears that you just applied and got accepted to work at the same place as him. Though he gives congratulations, he also decisively advises you to be wary of the establishment, and promises to look after you. Confused, you take his words with little regard and start working soon after.

Having gained some experience as time passes, you end up visiting the Daycare more frequently, something your uncle immediately notices. To his fear, you’ve gained an amicable attachment to the Attendant. At times, the animatronic seems innocent without worry. Then there was it’s counterpart which watches over the children they’re putting to sleep making you gradually endear to them. What your uncle has come to realize long since working there, were the bot’s drastic secrets of murder and violent outbursts. Particularly Sun’s.

While it’s well known amongst the employees of the Pizza Plex that many strange things happen under the company and most troubling incidents get swept under the rug shortly after they happen, there was little to no similar situations reported about the Daycare Attendant. Having been in the right place at the worst time due to his occupation, Your uncle encountered the automation’s unspeakable acts many times despite his previous motivations, complaints, and numerous reports to shut it down. Though he survives their encounters by miraculous odds, he’s had a grudge with that bot ever since and vise versa. Sun and Moon normally never take too kindly to strangers they meet outside of their territory, hence why most of their victims end up in unfortunate situations before the bot quickly covers their tracks. Way before your Uncle can obtain proper evidence.

Which is why it greatly concerned the anxious man when you continued speaking with the DA unscathed after all this time you’ve been working there. He ends up eavesdropping nearby your department for your safety and quickly discovers the animatronic’s true intentions with you. They were completely obsessed with you at an unhinged, volatile state. They secretively push other people out of their way with smooth unseen tactics if the individuals in question hurt their chances at gaining your favor, your attention, and your presence. This knowledge leads your uncle to immediately push you to quit your job with little luck and major offense on your part. This divide quickly causes you to seek comfort from a supportive Sun and Moon that slowly makes you end up falling for them as more time passes, the robotic pair quickly realizes this and act fast to claim your affections the coming week.

Cautious and remorseful, Your uncle eventually comes by at the front doors of the daycare to apologize for his abrupt actions until he stops dead in his tracks at the sight before him. You were in the Sun animatronic’s embrace half-blinded and prepared to give yourself to the smug looking character. Sun appeared cocky and unsurprised at your relative’s arrival. You seemed distracted and fazed by the jester’s attempt at reciprocation. and your uncle, for the first time since working there, noticed the insidious purple in the bot’s eyes, the scattered remnants of dried blood coating the yellow hands “lovingly” caressing your face, and felt pure, unadulterated fear for the future of what’s to come.

~~~~~~~~~

Let me know how I did! I wanna write a fanfic about Sun and Moon someday and need criticism. Love y’all! 😘

[kyiratodoroki]

Yandere!Hawks/F!Reader

Content Warning: Not much to note in the intro (brief grope by a villain? 😂, language). The content will grow darker as we delve deeper. The story revolves around a yandere version of the number two pro, so possessiveness, stalking, violence, nonconsensual acts (and other adult themes), gaslighting, and love-bombing are all potentially on the table for starters. I'll try to catch all the tags in each chapter, but there is a possibility that I'll miss something. Proceed with caution? 😂

I'll Keep You Safe

🌹🌙

Hawks was the number two hero in Japan for a reason. Raised and trained by the Hero Public Safety Commission, he did his job perfectly. His good looks and natural charm made people love him, and he was never left wanting for someone to keep his bed warm. Lovers came (several times) and went (rarely by choice), and he never gave it a passing thought. The hero didn't let anyone get under his skin, never allowed himself to feel anything more than simple lust.

That is, until you came into his life.

He'd met many of his flings on the job, and you were no different. Some no-name villain with a chip on his shoulder decided to use you as leverage while trying to escape a robbery; a tired tactic utilized time and again by the most desperate and least creative criminals in the underground. It was impossible for the hero to ignore the indecent way the man gripped your body with one hand (obviously) groping your breast and the other at your waist (slipped beneath the hem of your shirt). With a little assistance from his feathers, Hawks made quick work of the deviant then let the cops take over once the situation was secure.

Like any good pro, he made sure to check on you as the bad guy was lead away in cuffs. He saw how you trembled from head to toe, hair tousled and clothes wrinkled. You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes and a flushed face. Your lips quivered slightly as you thanked him over and over for saving your life. He responded with his signature smile - the one that had graced every magazine and newspaper in Japan - then brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek as he asked if you needed an escort home. For the sake of safety, of course.

Before you had the chance to accept his offer, some guy appeared from the crowd of onlookers and pulled you into his arms. Hawks chuckled, patted the kid's shoulder, and told him to make sure you got home in one piece. Both of you said thanks about five more times before leaving the scene.

A week later, Hawks found himself still thinking about you. Everything seemed fine after the incident, but there might have been something small the medical team missed, and the potential for lingering mental trauma definitely existed. Civilians crossed paths with villains on a daily basis - many of them suffered worse ordeals - but it was the memory of your expression keeping him awake at night.

You were a pretty girl, even with puffy eyes and a dazed stare. No. Scratch that. It wasn't that you were pretty despite crying. No. You were beautiful, and the terror added a facet of allure that made you unforgettable. Distracting. Every time he caught a glimpse of something that matched the shade of your eyes, he paused, and the sweet quiver of your voice had stolen into his dreams more than once.

His best efforts to forget you were a failure because no matter who he was fucking, he imagined your face looking up at him and your body writhing beneath his. Hawks tried to figure out the reason - aside from the obvious - why he was so taken with some random girl. He'd saved hundreds of them over the years and met thousands.

What made you different? He needed an answer.

Finding a name and address was easy, Your work location was a little harder to get without raising suspicion. He wanted to keep the information handy in case he (inevitably) decided to check in. Standard protocol didn't require heroes to follow up with the victims they saved. The people in charge actually discouraged any type of continued contact, but there were no specific rules against it, especially if the meeting was "accidental". So, while the Commission didn't approve of the extra attention he gave to some of the lovely little birdies he rescued, they looked the other way when it happened and cleaned up any messes left in his wake. He figured it was the least the H.P.S.C. could do. They'd made him into the man he was after all.

[eldritchelfwriter]

Thoughts on religious trauma and leaving religion in Baldur's Gate 3 and real life

It is rare to see religious trauma in popular media - in fact, I struggle to bring any other examples to mind besides Shadowheart's journey in Baldur's Gate 3.

I was so excited to see an experience so many go through finally being acknowledged to the world at large. Leaving religion is an experience I have had myself, and the fanfic that I'm writing over on A03 is partly influenced by those experiences.

So what stacks up from Shadowheart's journey in Baldur's Gate 3 with real life?

Firstly we see in Act 1 and Act 2 that Shadowheart is subtly suffering from cognitive dissonance - holding two or more opposing ideas in mind at the same time.

For Shadowheart this is a tension between her religious dogma and what she (mostly unconsciously) really feels, or in actions that don't line up with her beliefs (see her "there'll be penance later" line after saving the refugees at the party, and her surprise at how good it feels to care about them). There is a rare line that can come up in Act 2 where Shadowheart says she is distracted and "it's almost like I'm conflicted about something" which shows that her cognitive dissonance is slowly coming into her awareness. Cognitive dissonance is a common experience for people trapped in unhealthy religion but not enough on its own to leave. It's something that takes a lot to even be aware of, but there's also plenty to keep people from acknowledging it. For Shadowheart we see an extreme response from the religion: the uncurable wound, punishing her whenever she goes off the Shar-approved trajectory as a sick example of attempted behavioural modification.

I think a key reason Shadowheart is able to start "seeing the machine" behind her beliefs is because the whole incident with the nautiloid has unwittingly removed her from the cult environment that has kept her imprisoned in her own mind for so long. Never underestimate the power of shared routines and behaviours, and their power to keep people in one place without questioning. If you have a friend or family member who gets sucked into a cult, one of the tactics to try and free them is in fact predicated on an environment change that opens them up to being able to question what has been going on without the constant bombardment of indoctrination and behavioural manipulations.

By contrast we start to see Shadowheart in Act 3 making decisions to put a line under her time as a follower of Shar. The fear that she describes, about having to chart her own future is a very real one for a lot of people who leave toxic religion. All the guard rails and scaffolding of religion that makes life certain and safety are suddenly gone, and being the one in charge, after letting others lead you around, can be a very disorientating experience. Especially if the toxic religion in question encourages a significant level of co-dependency. And in all fairness to Shadowheart, it's why I'm particularly proud of her decision, at the end of the final fight, to invite Tav to enjoy the life Shadowheart wants to live - not just mould herself into something she thinks Tav wants.

The Act 3 scene where she is at the statue of Selune, considering how she feels about Selune now is a very powerful one for those who have left a religion. It is hard to suddenly go without all the trappings of daily rituals, a ready made community and easy certainties and some people do find themselves exchanging one religion for another, because of the "easy" comfort it brings. Leaving a toxic religion is very strange for a while when days of religious significance come up - a little like the first time after a bereavement that you experience the birthday of the person who has died. Shadowheart's line about how she sees why "it's so easy to bow" and have your life dictated by a deity is particularly poignant.

Whether Shadowheart still has the incurable wound by the end of the game depends on your decisions, but regardless of your decision, shock and grief over what has been lost and uncomfortable reminders of the past are certainly completely normal.

(Check out the fanfic).

[thunderstomm]

Thumbnail redesigns for The Chippettes and The Chipmunks!! (AKA some first drafts in a more simple style to my usual one- the same one I use for my warm-ups and doodle dumps!) I'll also be sharing a BUNCH of headcanons for these versions of the guys I made ♡♡

This is how I imagine they'd look if they got a new show or movie in the 2020s! I was mostly inspired by their 80s and LA looks for these, and modern fashion. In terms of storyline, I would place them firmly back into being celebrities, as opposed to standard citizens, but like the LA movies, students in High School. They are each in their respective bands, but collab often. The chipmunks are biological brothers still, while the chipettes are sisters through adoption.

Alvin, Simon and Theodore were adopted by Dave shortly after the birth of Theodore- Alvin and Simon are twins, while Theodore is their younger brother. An incident in their original home separated them from their family, landing them on Dave's doorstep, similar to the older shows. As a songwriter and composer, Dave would often write songs for his boys to sing, and when they were old enough to all consent to a contract, Dave helped them to begin their career in music- with the fact that they are talking, singing chipmunks aiding them greatly in their rise.

Alvin is similar to his live-action counterpart, and is a big troublemaker. I don't really like it when people soften Alvin's personality, and take away the troublemaking personality which he is known for. He is the lead vocalist, and plays the guitar. He has a big ego, and acts on impulse, and despite his troublemaker tendencies, he still loves his family and wants to do good by them deep down. Alvin is 15 years old.

Simon is the smart, sarcastic, and sometimes snarky twin of Alvin, with his personality resembling is 80s and LA counterparts. He is the older twin by a few minutes, and deems himself as the more responsible brother. He plays the Keyboard, as well as singing back-up vocals. Simon does well in school, despite the distractions that fame may offer. Simon is 15 years old.

Theodore is the youngest of the chipmunk brothers, bearing similarities to the personality of his 80s counterpart. The only brother who never knew his biological parents, Theodore is much more attached to Dave emotionally, and the most insecure of the brothers in his identity. He plays the drums for the band and Sings back-up vocals, and enjoys cooking outside of his music career. Theodore is 13 years old.

Brittany, Jeanette and Eleanor are not biologically related, but stumbled across eachother at a very young age, on a boat to Australia, where they were meant to be an exhibit. Together, they made plans to escape, ending up at an orphanage, where they were discovered and looked after by the girls who stayed there, growing closest with a girl named Olivia. Dreaming of stardom, the Chippettes would put on shows for the girls of the orphanage, who began to encourage them to pursue their dreams. Eventually, the Chippettes did leave, inspired by seeing the success of another Chipmunk band (this is Charlene and her band, who i hope to explore later!). After a rough year, The Chippettes made their way to the USA, where slowly, but surely, they built a name for themselves, eventually meeting the Chipmunks face to face. The Chipettes are eventually adopted by Ms. Miller, a retired opera singer.

Brittany is most like her Live-Action counterpart, as the sassy and determined leader of the Chippettes, with a bit of a mean streak. Despite these factors, she only wants to see the best for her sisters. She is hard-working and defensive, and has a love for K-Fashion. She is the lead singer of the Chippettes, and the only one not to play an instrument. Brittany is 15 years old.

Jeanette resembles her live-action counterpart, as a shy, and anxious bookworm. The oldest of the Chippettes, Jeanette takes up most of the worrying for her sisters' safety, especially in their darkest years. She is very clumsy, and isn't good at the choreography which is thrown their way. Jeanette is a trans girl. Jeanette plays the Violin, and acts as a back-up singer for the Chipettes. Jeanette is 16 years old.

Eleanor is the least like any of her counterparts from generations past. An activist, Eleanor stands up for what is right, fighting for her messages proudly, often wearing statement shirts to school and concerts. Eleanor loves to dance, coming up with all of their dance moves. Eleanor plays the bass guitar, and Sings back-up for the Chipettes. Eleanor is 14 years old.

I hope you guys like these, because I would LOVE to do more !! ♡♡

[enneadau]

Ennead GX

Part 1 here

Okay, so, now things have calmed down, I'm back on my bullshit with this.

Jurai spends the first part of S1 making friends, getting used to the classes and trying her hardest because she's Yugi's daughter and doesn't want to let her down. She's even happy to help with the Spirit Duels with the Duel Spirits who cause issues.

During this time Shoko finds out whose daughter Jurai is because she walks in on a video call between Jurai and her family. To start with Shoko is freaking out but she keeps her promise and doesn't say a word to anyone.

Then the duel at the volcano happens.

Of course, because Jurai is hospitalized, her mother has to be called. Yugi and one of Jurai’s aunts come running to the island with Kaiba’s help, while Jurai’s father stays on the mainland, with their two year old twins, Jurai's siblings, Suguru and Shizuye.

And they get involved in the incident. Teaching the kids how to deal with magic and handling the Shadow Items. They're furious that another set was made and want to lock it down. They're also mad about the false Gods in the basement and do everything they can to help.

During this time Shoko realises that the Queen of Games is just as human as they are and stops being weird.

Also during this season we meet Tragiodia, a survivor of the Kul Elna massacre who was the one to get Ba-Khu-Ra to a city for her own safety and was warped into a demon after he tried to take revenge on Akhenaden and Jurai helps lay the last soul of Kul Elna to rest by defeating him.

S2 Jurai has to handle things alone after a certain point. When the Society of Light appear on the scene, Yugi and co are going to help, but Yugi's jumped by a rather large group of duelists and when every lifepoint lost allows the Light to seep in and taint a soul further, there comes a point where she just can't keep resisting and she uses the last of herself to send a warning to her husband and daughter.

And then she's on the other side.

That means Yugi's friends and family are distracted trying to purify her without getting caught in the light themselves, leaving Jurai and her friends to handle things on Duel Academy. Jurai's dad still keeps in contact while he can but there is a point where all Jurai is getting is a few messages from aunts and uncles.

This is the stepping up point for Jurai. She knows her family love her, she knows her mother's last thought before losing herself to the light was of her. And she knows that she has to handle things if she wants her family back.

And of course she wins.

I'm not doing the Bastion/Daichi Misawa falling in love with a tiger thing, and I'm also not doing the he gets ignored thing. Jurai would know better and as upset as she is about her family being unable to help her, she wouldn't ignore a friend.

S3 would be multiple books. There's so much going on that it would need to be. Jurai is more independent, there's less calls home, she's not angry at them for leaving her mostly alone to handle things, but she doesn't feel as confident that they'll always be there.

That slight bitterness leads into the Dark World arc. Jurai has always known she has powers. Yugi was helping her train them and so was Yubel. But it's during this arc that she learns more about her kingdom and how she was betrayed by the people who feared her after she saved them and it ties into the hurt that came from being abandoned by her birth parents and (not deliberately) by her new family and let's the darkness take over.

This is how we end up with the Evil Queen.

Haven't worked out all the details for turning Jurai back again yet. Sorry, but she does come back to her senses, with her full powers unlocked, and runs into Yubel on the way back.

And she remembers Yubel. Her birth parents sent Yubel away without Jurai's say so but Yubel is still hurt and furious and how dare the Egyptian Queen steal their Queen. So when they return to the human world, Jurai is forced to tame Yubel and merge her soul together to protect those she loves, including her dearest friend and partner, Yubel.

I haven't seen S4 yet, it was never dubbed but I'm working my way through the subs so I can see it and work out where I'm going with it.

However I have a rough idea.

Jurai in this season is quiet. Withdrawn. Her family try to teach out but she's ashamed of her actions as the Evil Queen and she's expecting to be cast off for them by family and friends. Duel Monsters no longer appeals and she takes a break from Duel Academy to go home.

And while she's heading there, the Darkness thing happens. And Jurai is furious, this is her home. Her family. And this asshole, this knockoff brand Zorc or Zorc fragment or whatever it is, is messing with her family and as angry, as hurt as Jurai is, she realises that this is her home and her family and she doesn't want to lose them.

So she kicks its ass.

Ennead GX would end with Jurai graduating out of Duel Academy and then going on a tour of the world. Trying to find herself and settle her mind. Yugi would encourage it, though she'd miss her daughter a lot and would try and meet up with her at points their paths cross.

And with Jurai rediscovering a love of the game by playing against people across the world who love the game for the game, not for the magic behind it, she even gets to duel Pegasus at one point.

Eventually she'd become a produelist. One of the first Speed Duelists in fact, and she adores her siblings and their kids, but that ties into Ennead 5ds so I won't go too far into that because other that knowing how my universe sets up for that series, I know nothing about it.

I need to watch 5ds before I do more than set up. XD

Hope this is good for you guys ❤️

[darklylucid]

Where Glamour Fails, Clever Alteration Prevails...

Glamour - that incredibly versatile natural skill all Ghouls use to essentially ‘hide in plain sight’ and appear as nothing more than human. 

Glamour can used to conceal a Ghoul’s glowing eyes, slate-grey skin, pointed teeth, horns and claws, but as useful as it is, it’s effects are purely cosmetic, and there’s one thing all Ghouls have that even those most adept at it can’t hide with a clever illusion - their tail.

It used to be common accepted practice for any Ghoul making a public appearance while fully glamoured to simply stuff their tail down the back of their pants and make a concerted effort to keep it still, and this worked quite well without incident for hundreds of years primarily due to the fact that Ghouls rarely left the safety of the church.

However, with the commencement of the ‘Ghost Project’ and the dramatic increase in worldwide media attention being focused on the band and it’s members during Rituals, there's one very important detail that no one really paid much attention to - the tail of even the most conscientious Ghoul, when overexcited, can be very accurately compared to a strand of overcooked spaghetti caught in a hurricane.

This was never a problem under the previous Papas, as long flowing hooded robes kept everything beneath them well concealed and even tight pants, restricting as they were, helped keep wandering tails in one place, and the inevitable random twitch (or three or four...) was easily dismissed as an unfortunate fault in the material. 

But the new uniforms were another thing entirely...neither too loose nor too tight, and with just enough ‘wiggle room’ in them for tails to move freely...it was only a matter of time, really, before something happened.

Then, something did happen.

All it took was one slip of concentration, a single moment of profound distraction and overstimulation for a few dozen concert-goers to flood the internet with viral videos calamitously entitled, ‘WHAT’S THAT WIGGLING AROUND IN DEWDROP’S PANTS?” to create a veritable PR nightmare for the church.

The tag ‘trouser snake’ was trending, conspiracy theories ran rampant and despite the church's PR team insisting that what everyone was seeing in the infamous video was merely a ‘trick of the light’, it was hard to dismiss that there was, very clearly, *something* thrashing around in the lead guitarist’s trousers. 

It was unanimously agreed that something had to be done to prevent another such ‘mishap’, but since tails can neither be removed nor glamoured away, everyone was at a loss of what to do. That is, until one clever Sibling of Sin, in a glorious moment of clarity, came up with a simple yet ingenious solution.

Belt loops. 

Starting at the waistband and running down along the outside seam of every pair of pants worn in public by the Ghouls are a series of increasingly smaller belt loops into which they thread their tails, with their flared tail spade serving as the ‘anchor’ with which to keep it in place.

With their tails securely fastened to their pants and the snug loops serving as a reminder to keep it still, any unusual movement well and truly can be attributed to either a ‘trick of the light’ or someone’s overactive imagination, and no further incidents have been reported or recorded.  

(It must be said that it was rather *unfortunate* that it had been Dewdrop’s momentary lack of focus that had been noticed and not Swiss’, as the Multi-Ghoul’s penchant for seductive gyrations and his trademark 'shimmies’ make even his most *exuberant* tail movements practically unnoticeable...)

[umlewis]

Hamilton: Don't Ever Disrespect Me Like That Again

It was the moment the mutual admiration society crumbled, Sebastian Vettel swerving into Lewis Hamilton while following the safety car during the Azerbaijan Grand Prix – now the Mercedes driver reveals how he took issue with the move and warned the Ferrari driver never to disrespect him again. The incident took place shortly before the restart, after a red flag period to clear debris from the Baku City Circuit, Vettel tapped the back of Hamilton’s slowing Mercedes as they prepared to step on the gas. Vettel believes that Hamilton deliberately brake-checked him, upon which the German showed his anger by driving alongside the Briton and swerving into the silver car. Race stewards imposed a ten second stop and go penalty on Vettel, which cost him the race victory, as Hamilton was forced to make a pitstop to fix his headrest and thus relinquished the lead.

Speaking on the Flying Lap TV show, Hamilton revealed, "When I spoke to him later, I was like: that’s a sign of disrespect, so don’t ever disrespect me like that again, otherwise then we will have problems." Vettel himself regards his red mist moment in Baku was unfortunate and wishing he had never reacted the way he did: "Ultimately I’m driving the car. Whatever I decided to do impacted on the result and that’s why I felt part of me let the team down. I think the reaction afterwards, especially for the team that was probably worse, that part of why I felt I let them down." Prior to that, the mutual respect between Hamilton and Vettel was of the highest order as they slugged it out for the championship. Baku changed that and since then the relationship has been frosty; indeed, in the aftermath a bookie even suggested a boxing match between the two. With regards to the incident Hamilton continued, "I’ve never done that to someone. I don’t even know what he was thinking to have done… I’ve never been in a position like that. I guess people react differently under certain pressures." Hamilton did not make a a big issue of the headline grabbing incident, rather keeping his feelings to himself. "I think there’s different ways in which you can handle things. I knew what I was there to do and I wasn’t going to let anything distract me from doing that. I wasn’t going to let myself say something or react in a way that’s going to cause some negative swirl which is going to steer me off course from my ultimate goal. And naturally, with the experience you learn to just compartmentalise all those different things."

[pomellon]

Alright! Some thoughts for the mermaid!himbros au since I haven’t touched it in a while. I really want to explore more of the differences between Punz’s breed, the narwhals, and Foolish’s breed, the belugas.

As stated in an earlier post the narwhals are more of a warrior race. They’re very minimalistic due to being nomadic, only carrying things they need in kelp bags and pouches wrapped around their waists and tails. They will carry stuff like weapons, tools, and rations, but don’t bother keeping much that won’t come in handy simply because it will add extra weight and slow them down. 

The belugas on the other hand are the exact opposite. Usually their pods will settle down and stay in one area, meaning they have the space and time to collect useless trinkets. They like to craft pretty things like figurines and jewellery and like to cover themselves in pretty items like shells and rocks.

This means Punz and Foolish tend to act and see things quite differently. Punz wants to constantly move, while Foolish prefers to stay in one place for some time to relax. Punz will only gather and keep what’s necessary, meanwhile Foolish will pick up and save shells or shiny rocks for no other reasons than that he finds them neat or pretty.

This does end up creating some conflicts between the two.

The constant moving easily makes Foolish annoyed and stressed, and at one point the two get into a heated enough argument that Punz simply leaves him behind. Punz was convinced they had been tracked by a larger sea beast during the last couple of days and didn’t want to stop until he was sure it had given up the hunt. Meanwhile Foolish simply wanted some time to settle down to work on some of his craftings to relax a bit. 

This results in a close call, the beast that Punz had been concerned about being a very real threat and one that was determined to make a meal out of Foolish, who only managed to survive thanks to Punz returning at the last moment and helping him escape.

It did lead to some injuries, mostly for Punz who put himself between the creature and Foolish, but the incident made Foolish realise the dangers of staying in one area for too long without the safety and protection of a large pod. It also made him trust Punz a lot more. Up until that point they had just been two merfolk travelling together out of convenience, they enjoyed each other’s company but they weren’t necessarily friends. Punz refuses to tell Foolish why he came back for him, but after that moment their relationship starts to grow closer.

Punz finally accepted the fact that Foolish wasn’t used to the constant moving and grew to understand that the beluga used his time to craft and work with his hands to destress. Keeping that in mind he started to make an effort to find temporary safe spaces to lay low for a few days after long stretches of travel, giving Foolish time to rest and work with his hobbies. 

The whole collecting trinkets thing, on the other hand, is something Punz has a hard time wrapping his head around. It makes him grow increasingly frustrated and anxious about Foolish slowing them down or the beluga potentially putting himself in danger due to the extra weight he’s carrying. 

This does lead to a few more disagreements but Foolish eventually manages to show Punz the usefulness of his crafts. While Punz has amazing instincts and is a great fighter, Foolish has a creative mind and is a great problem solver. He makes little items to help distract or confuse the dangerous beasts that try to hunt them. He carefully watches Punz’s hunting technique and crafts him a net that works perfectly with his movements.

But what really has an impact on Punz is when his lance breaks. The lances are like an extension of the narwhal mers bodies, a weapon that they craft in their late teens as they come of age. It’s their pride and joy and should be able to withstand use and last them throughout their life. Punz is devastated when his breaks, he kind of gives up on everything once he can’t fix it, so Foolish takes the matter into his own hand.

He carefully pieces it together when Punz is asleep, uses his various items to glue and tie it all together, carefully mimics Punz’s own craftsmanship to make the cracks and broken patterns look deliberate rather than patched up.

Punz is completely speechless when Foolish hands him the final result, and when it finally clicks that Foolish did indeed fix his lance, beautifully at that, he’s overjoyed. He tries to act nonchalant about it, but he can’t quite hide his smile and the way his mood brightens immensely over the next few days.

He doesn’t really question it when Foolish picks up and keeps random items after that, if anything he sometimes gives in and adds some of Foolish’s trinkets to his own bags to make it easier for the beluga. Likewise, Foolish stops questioning when Punz keeps them moving, knowing that if the narwhal isn’t stopping there’s probably a good reason for it.

They definitely start out with their ups and downs but the more time they spend together the more they get to know each other, eventually coming to understand and adapt to each other's cultural differences.

[adiduck]

33? For kisses?

You got it, Anon! This is... a follow-on for a couple of @oathkeeperoxas's fics in the timeline. I highly recommend you read their MI3 rewrite believe in you and its sequel thunder only happens when it's raining for context as to the particular events Simon's referencing here, though I am fairly certain you can figure it out from context regardless. ;) They're really, really good though, so I promise it won't be a hardship!

Send me a kiss for SaintSpy May!

-

33. Hungry kiss

Being sexually exclusive with Ethan is both easier and more difficult than he thought it would be.

He told Ethan, during that month in Virginia, after they—miracle of miracles—managed to behave like adults and actually talk about what happened to lead to their two year break, that he spent their time apart wishing it was Ethan in his bed, rather than whoever it actually was. That’s true, and he’s pleased to note that it remains so over the month and a half after Virginia, when Ethan’s immediately chucked straight into a deep undercover mission and—for all their careful planning—completely unreachable for his own safety.

(He has his theories about that—the IMF making Ethan pay for his two years out of the field, and the month they couldn’t get their pound of flesh from him at all. It’s an uncharitable thought, and he knows it.

After the Julia incident, and a man Ethan trusted using his face to torture Ethan to confirm he’d done what was asked of him, he finds he is uninterested in being particularly charitable towards this organization as a whole. If Ethan left tomorrow, he already knows how he’d slot him into his own one-man business model, and he’d be happy to fucking have him.)

So, the sex isn’t something he misses—not per se. That part is easy. He didn’t want anyone but Ethan in all the time they were apart, and he still doesn’t. A relief—he knows himself, and had wondered in his heart of hearts if maybe it was the not-having that had caused the problem, if he’d have to train himself to be patient now that Ethan was back. Not the case. Excellent.

What he misses is the physical contact.

The thing about his life, he knows, is that really, day-to-day and hour-to-hour, there really aren’t many people in it. Oh, he’s surrounded by people, of course. He’s always thrived in a crowd, people-watching and brushing shoulders with strangers, all the interesting conversations he could have. Thank god, frankly, if he’d been an introvert he probably wouldn’t have survived. But, see, he doesn’t touch those people. Not without a reason—a job, or a night out. He’s taken both those options off the table now, and about two weeks into his new normal, he starts to notice lack.

He handles it. Brushes off some of his more… gregarious names, goes out to clubs and bars and lets the press of bodies be a bit of a bandaid on the problem, though of course he doesn’t go home with any of them. He takes himself in hand in the bathroom of his hotel room instead, and misses Ethan like a limb.

It works, to some extent, and work itself is another distraction—he’s always working. Even with that, though, he finds himself in the IMF system every day for the last couple weeks of Ethan’s mission—checking reports, checking running missions, reading Ethan’s check-ins like a starving man trying to figure out when he’ll be out and it’ll be safe, again, to go to him—

Ethan’s call for extraction comes during the seventh week after he goes under.

He has a plane ticket back to the States in the next twenty minutes.

-

“Anthony,” Ethan greets, blinking in surprise to find his partner sitting on his desk, the very first afternoon he’s back, long legs crossed and hair piled high and careless on the top of his head.

Anthony smiles at him like the sun coming out, dark eyes scanning him head to toe. “Hello,” he says, voice drawling in an easy Italian-American accent. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember this one.”

Ethan laughs. “Well,” he says, and crosses to his desk. “The context of the meeting was memorable.” He frowns as something occurs to him. “You making a point about being heard again? I’m sorry the mission was so long—”

“Not this time,” Anthony interrupts, and unfolds his legs to spread them enough to draw Ethan forward as he reaches him, bracketing Ethan’s hips with his long, long legs and drawing him down, immediately, into a deep, hungry kiss, right there in the middle of IMF headquarters. Ethan startles a bit, and then gets with the program, leaning in and kissing back with everything he’s got. He wonders if Anthony can taste the stress of being back in such a high stakes mission immediately, the long nights missing their bed in Virginia, wondering how he was doing and where he was doing and it and whether he regretted any of those so-easy promises alone in a house in the suburbs—

Well, he needn’t have worried, Ethan thinks dizzily, as Anthony finally lets him up for air, finding his hands in Anthony’s hair and Anthony’s own hands fisted in his shirt, the two of them flush together in the IMF office shit—

Ethan pulls back, glancing around at the—thankfully—empty floor. He was here late—jetlagged and too pent up to go home alone to his newly assigned apartment, and hoping he could use some of it to power through all the reports he was going to need to write up even after the very, very thorough debrief he just endured. “Maybe we should—”

“Yes,” Anthony says. Ethan looks back at him, finds his eyes endlessly dark and very much focused on Ethan, still holding him tight. “I think we’ve been missing each other more than long enough.”

-

[risehealingcenter]

Dating Someone With PTSD: What to Know and How to Navigate

If you are dating or in a relationship with someone who suffers from PTSD, you may be wondering how you can help or what you can expect. You already know there is much to love about your partner and that they are much more than their trauma. You also see how they are hurting and struggling. There is absolutely hope and there are effective ways to treat trauma and PTSD. Together, you can work towards more effectively managing symptoms and ultimately towards healing, so that a new sense of security and freedom can be found in the present.

PTSD is not just for war vets

Many times I have spoken to a therapy client about a PTSD or complex PTSD diagnosis fitting and been met with confusion partly because of the media tendency to exclusively depict PTSD as something that happens as a byproduct of war. In addition to experiences like rape or serious accidents, anything that someone experiences as deeply threatening can cause PTSD-like symptoms. Another working definition of trauma is too much too soon or too little for too long - when our coping skills and nervous systems are overwhelmed or we experience physical or emotional neglect.

What is traditional PTSD?

Traditional PTSD can arise from a single traumatic event or traumas that happen in a short amount of time.

What is complex PTSD?

Complex PTSD is caused by chronically experiencing traumas, oftentimes in childhood (for instance, consistently not getting physically or emotional needs met or experiencing physical or sexual abuse or ongoing bullying).

Individuals who have complex PTSD are sadly more susceptible to developing traditional PTSD later from single incident traumas, as they have less neural networks and experiences of safety internalized that can act as protective barriers.

PTSD symptoms may include

Avoidance

Your loved one is likely to avoid anything that may act as a trigger for their traumas. They may avoid talking about their traumas or any people, places, or activities that could serve as unwanted reminders. Substance use or constantly trying to stay busy and distracted can also be ways to avoid unwanted thoughts or feelings.

Intrusions

Your partner may have intrusive memories of the event, this can look like flashbacks, nightmares, or unwanted images that negatively impact their life. This could also look like somatic intrusions - where their bodies suddenly have a response that feels similarly to how they felt during the traumatic moment.

Thinking Patterns

If your partner is suffering from PTSD, they are likely to struggle with negative self-talk and a negative worldview generally. They may feel hopeless about the future. They could also struggle with memory, including not remembering many aspects of their trauma, as this can be an unconscious protective strategy. Trauma can lead to a sense of detachment from self and others and a sense of emotional numbness.

Reactivity

Someone with PTSD is likely to be easily startled, to be in a state of hyper-vigilance and on the lookout for danger. Your partner may be more irritable or quick to have an angry outburst.

All of these symptoms can be viewed through the lens of nervous system dysregulation, or being stuck in states of fight, flight, and freeze or moving between all three.

The gift of co-regulation

As a partner to someone suffering from PTSD, you have the ability to greatly help your partner through something called co-regulation. As social creatures, we look for cues of safety and danger from others, particularly from those we are most strongly attached to, typically our parents when we are kids and our romantic partners when we are adults. Helping your partner to find calm in their nervous systems through co-regulation can be incredibly healing.

Ways to co-regulate and help soothe your partner

● Use a calm, warm, and loving tone of voice

● Use gentle eye contact and smile at your partner

● Say simple and soothing statements to your partner that show you are with them to communicate safety

○ “I see you”

○ “I’m here for you”

○ “I hear you”

○ “I’m safe”

● Use reflective listening skills and validate your partner when they share with you. Ex: “So what you're saying is __________? Is that right? That must be really hard.” “Tell me more”

● Help your partner know that it is okay to have big feelings and that you can stay with them as they feel. Resisting or suppressing feelings usually only makes them bigger and more persistent. Feeling emotionally attuned to and seen can be incredibly calming. Avoid toxic positivity or minimizing your partner’s feelings.

● Use supportive touch if your partner is receptive to this. This may look like hand holding, hugging, cuddling, or back massages (check to make sure these aren’t triggers).

● Breathe slowly together as you hug or hold hands and face each other. Try and make your breaths match each other and have extra long exhales (try breathing in for 4, holding for 7, and breathing out for 8)

● Toss a ball back and forth together (this requires being in tune with one another and the repetition and focus can be soothing. This can also help someone to escape a flashback and return to the present.)

● Go on walks together

● Ask: “Is there anything you need from me right now? “How can I help?”

Learn your partner's triggers and boundaries

Communicate with your partner about what is triggering for them so that you can best support them in those moments (for instance parties where there are a lot of people). Understand if there are certain sexual or physical boundaries that could be triggering and respect any boundaries that your partner needs. Together, you may be able to soften those boundaries with exposure and with creating a new experience of safety in these moments, but this should be at the pace your partner is ready and highly collaborative. Maintain an open dialogue about what they may find helpful when triggered or when they experience flashbacks

Help to create a calm home environment

Predictability, stability, and routines can be calming and help your partner’s nervous system to feel more settled. This may mean doing rituals together, like cooking or eating together at a consistent time, having morning coffee together, or going on after work walks together. Don’t discount the impact that our senses can play in helping us to feel safe. Consider paying attention to your lighting, play calming music, light scented candles, and minimize clutter.

Putting your own oxygen mask on first

Dating and loving someone with PTSD can be hard. It is painful to know that our loved one is suffering and it can feel like a lot of pressure to fix it for them.

Know that there is only so much that you as their partner can do, especially if you are emotionally depleted or dysregulated yourself.

Take care of your own needs, work on learning self regulation skills and also confide in your partner and allow them to be a source of co-regulation for you when they are able to be. Lean on other supports in your life, like friends or family to help fill your own emotional cup up.

It may feel hard to reach your partner at times if they are numb or retreating. If could feel like you are walking on eggshells if their PTSD manifests in a quick temper. You can both have empathy and also not allow yourself to be mistreated. You may need to set your own boundaries at times - “please lower your voice, I can’t engage well with you when you're speaking like that to me. I will need to leave the room if you continue.”

You may benefit from your own therapy to help you more effectively navigate the stress and challenges that you may be facing in your relationship.

Encourage your partner to get professional trauma treatment

PTSD is serious and as much as your love can be a source of healing, your partner likely needs professional trauma treatment to truly get the relief they need from their trauma symptoms and to not spend their lives avoiding possible triggers.

As trauma lives in the nervous system and body, therapies that are body-based and not only cognitive are needed for PTSD treatment. EMDR is a gold standard treatment for trauma. Other modalities and approaches that can be highly effective, especially when incorporated with EMDR, include parts work, attachment-based therapy (particularly for childhood trauma), and somatic approaches. Therapy that incorporates mindfulness, acceptance of feelings, as well as calming exercises (like breathing strategies) are also helpful.

At Rise Healing Center, we incorporate all of these modalities and approaches, as we aim to treat trauma in the most effective way possible. If your partner lives in California, consider having them book a free consultation call to see if our practice might be a good fit for them.

[doggosaurusrex]

Magical Mentorship (2/6)

Against his protestations, Hubert has been assigned to lead a class on reason magic, where he ends up with an unexpected --and unwanted -- dedicated student.

Meanwhile, unsure of how to approach his budding feelings for Ferdinand, Hubert finds himself in the role of student, whether he likes it or not.

Also known as that time Sylvain became Hubert’s self-proclaimed wingman in exchange for magic lessons.

Takes place during the Crimson Flower route with all possible units recruited.

Word Count: 6094

Content Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild swearing

Part One

Three days had passed since the unfortunate incident in the garden. Sylvain had, thankfully, been dispatched to secure the Faerghus border along with Felix and Ingrid. There was no one to bother Hubert for additional magic training, and no interrogations into his non-existent romantic life. With enough luck, Sylvain would become distracted and forget all about the dreadful proposal he had made in the garden.

Unfortunately, Ferdinand had also been absent during that time as he too had been sent to the border to accompany the former Blue Lions. Hubert was no stranger to working independently for long periods of time; however, the other man’s absence hung over him like a persistent, overcast sky. His dreams were filled with flashes of Ferdinand’s bright smile, his warm laugh, the way the sunlight tangled with his copper hair, the electric touch of his hand on Hubert’s arm or shoulder during a moment of camaraderie…

Hubert tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. He was being ridiculous. Both of them were respected generals in her majesty’s army, and as such, would often be required to attend engagements that brought them to different sides of the continent. Wallowing like a lovesick maiden in a romance pulp was beneath him.

Hubert had his own tasks to occupy his time and thoughts. Arundel, or rather Thales wearing the deceased noble’s skin like an ill-fitting cloak, had run into a predicament. Several of the fiend’s dark mages needed to be rescued from demonic beasts that had broken loose from their control. If it were up to Hubert, he would have left every single one of them to rot, laughing as he watched them be torn limb-for-limb by the very monsters they created. Unfortunately, they could not afford to fight a war on two fronts and had to maintain a façade of cooperation with the loathsome maggots.

Just being in Thales’s presence made him feel ill. It did not help that the wretch would often deliberately seek Hubert out, as if twisting a knife into the mage, knowing Hubert could do little to reject the fiend’s commands lest he risk putting Lady Edelgard’s safety in jeopardy by refusing. Fortunately, with so many Garreg Mach alumni unexpectedly joining her majesty’s cause, and the miraculous return of their professor, they had enough military power to decline much of Thales’s assistance while maintaining their assault against the church.

The mission was little more than another of Thales’s thinly veiled attempts to exert power over the emperor, an unpleasant reminder of the accord that they had been forced to strike years ago. Hubert made sure to bring the professor as well as several other trusted generals, knowing their presence would dissuade Thales requesting more unsavory tasks from Hubert. Once the mission had been completed and Thales’s slugs rescued –with no lack mocking commentary directed at them from Hubert—the mage had departed with the Arrow of Indra in hand as payment to himself.

It was shortly after dawn when the professor had called him to the war room. She was pouring over a series of maps and reports that lay spread on the table. Her gaze flicked up as she heard Hubert enter the room. She briefed him on the situation.

“From what Shamir said, it looks to be some minor bandit activity near the base of the Oghma Mountains. Nothing too severe at the moment, but we don’t want them reaching the nearby villages.”

Hubert nodded.

“Any connection with those who slither in the dark? Thales is becoming more brazen with openly displaying what atrocities he and his ilk have committed.”

The professor frowned. “Not that I’m aware of, though you mentioned it’s not unusual for them to hire brigands. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.”

“I always do,” Hubert smirked.

“Good. If everything goes as planned, it shouldn’t be too difficult for the two of you to handle.”

“The…two?” Hubert’s smirk faltered, “Professor, who else—”

Hubert felt his words die in this throat as Sylvain rounded the corner, in full armour and grinning ear to ear.

“There’s my favourite, magical mentor! Adrestia’s slyest spymaster, and our most talented tactician!”

Sylvain wrapped a friendly arm around the mage’s bony shoulders and drew him into an awkward, sideways hug.

Hubert went ridged. His fingers twitched with the urge to burn the knight’s arm away with miasma.

“That’s enough, Sylvain,” the professor sighed.

Sylvain chuckled and removed his arm. He joined the professor at the table, eyes scanning through the reports and maps.

Together, the three of them went over the best routes for reaching the bandit camp undetected. They would circle through a surrounding forest, cutting off the bandit’s route that would lead to the next village. Less than half a dozen bandits had been spotted, though if their numbers turned out to be any larger, Hubert and Sylvain were to retreat to Garreg Mach to request reinforcements. The professor rolled up one of the nearby maps and gathered some of the scattered reports, handing the documents to Hubert.

“Good luck, you two. I know you will support each other and make an excellent team.”

The professor dismissed them, the smallest traces of a shrewd smile lighting her face.

Hubert silently glowered as he placed the documents in a satchel. This was surely payback for ending his duties as a reason magic instructor. Hubert did not doubt for a moment that she had assigned them together on purpose. Clearly the professor still expected him to guide Sylvain in some capacity.

With their task assigned, Hubert left to collect the supplies that they would need while Sylvain readied the horses.

Several vulneraries and bundles of bandages were prepared and packed. Hubert made sure he had a suitable tome with him as well.

As he was leaving, his eyes fell upon the Arrow of Indra tucked away in the cabinet where he stored his staves, tomes, and other weapons. Hubert picked up the weapon, running his fingers across its surface. Sparks of electricity flickered across the blade. His proficiency with utilizing lances had been improving, thanks to a training regiment that he had been completing with Ferdinand’s assistance. Furthermore, the weapon had been crafted of arcane crystal, a suitable conductor for channeling magic spells. Hubert wrapped the lance in cloth, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to the rare weapon.

Sylvain was already waiting for him at the monastery gates with two horses saddled and readied. Aside from his standard equipment, Hubert noticed that Sylvain also had hidden a lance behind a layer of cloth. Likely the Lance of Ruin. If he looked carefully, Hubert could see the relic’s bone tendrils twitch beneath the cloth.

With their weapons secured and their supplies ready, the two departed.

Sylvain led the way through the dirt trails that wound through the forests surrounding the Oghma Mountains. He guided his horse with the ease of one who had likely been riding since they could walk.

Hubert, on the other hand, clung to his own horse’s reins until his knuckles were cramped and leached of colour. Keeping the mare on course was an ongoing battle. He had growled a threat of turning the beast into glue after the mare had tried to wander off the path for the third time. The mare tossed her mane and snorted with defiance every time the mage tugged on her reins and steered her back onto the trail.

The two men travelled in their silence for a time. The clip-clop of their horses’ hooves, the light breeze rustling the dense canopy of the forest’s leaves, and the distant chirps of songbirds were the only noises to be heard.

At least until Sylvain started humming to himself.

At first Hubert ignored the noise. It was not unusual for some people to be unused to working in silence and required some modicum of noise to stay focussed. So long as Sylvain ceased the racket once they neared the bandit camp, Hubert could tolerate it.

 Then the humming intensified.

Each of the notes was high-pitched and off-key. Sylvain had looked over his shoulder and stared directly at Hubert when making a particularly shrill note, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face.

“If you have something to say, out with it already!” Hubert snapped.

“What, me?” Sylvain said with feigned innocence, “Can’t a guy just enjoy humming a tune. Course, I’m sure you’d much prefer to hear singing from a certain Holy Knight.”     

Hubert groaned loudly. Barely an hour working with the knight, and already Gautier was needling him over the same nonsense from days earlier.

“At this point, I would much rather hear the wailings of a decrepit banshee than listen to one more note of that ear-splitting screech you refer to as humming.”

“Okay, ouch! That was uncalled for!”

The conversation dropped. Hubert basked in the blissful silence. At least until…

“So…given any thought to my proposal?” Sylvain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hubert gritted his teeth. Of course Gautier refused to let go of his ridiculous plan no matter how much Hubert wished otherwise. That would have been far too simple a conclusion for one of the bull-headed knights of Faerghus. Hubert had encountered hounds that were less tenacious when tracking a rabbit they had scented.

“Did I not make myself abundantly clear days ago? My feelings for Ferdinand von Aegir do not extend past mere camaraderie; therefore, making the need for courting advice completely unnecessary. I do wish you well in your pursuit of successfully completely the dark knight certification exam; however, you will have to find a different tutor to assist you,” Hubert stated. His words clipped, firm, and hopefully enough to end this farce.

“That’s a shame. I guess you don’t want to hear about Ferdinand’s ideal spot for a tryst.”

Hubert drew his horse to a sudden halt. The mare whinnied and shook her maned head in annoyance. Hubert turned to the knight, his face scarlet.

“I beg your pardon; I believe I misheard you…” Hubert had somehow managed to keep his voice from hitching.

Sylvain smirked at him with an imp-like grin.

“Oh, I think you heard me just fine. Turns out our golden boy isn’t as innocent as he lets on. Mind you, he immediately got all flustered. I thought the poor guy was going to burst into flames he was turning so red.”

“And tell me, Gautier. Why was the subject of Ferdinand’s preferred…tryst location a topic of conversation?” Hubert’s eyes flashed and his blood inexplicably began to boil. Traces of a miasma spell gathered at his fingertips.

“Okay, first of all, I can smell the sulfur circling around you. So, drop the miasma spell and calm down! Ferdinand’s not my type���

“Secondly, he was the one who brought it up. I’m not entirely sure why, he just kind of…blurted it out. I guess he was trying to make conversation, you know how he is.”

Hubert sighed, the miasma spell vanishing. Internally, he cringed at his momentary loss of control but was careful to maintain a neutral outward expression.

“Though I’ve gotta say,” Sylvain smirked once more, “That’s one hell of a reaction from a guy a who…how did you word it again? Oh yeah…Whose ‘feelings for Ferdinand von Aegir do not extend past mere camaraderie.’

Sylvain added a deep rasp to his voice for the last few words.

Hubert bristled at the paladin’s poor imitation of his voice. Once again, Hubert calculated the toll it would take on the army and the future of Adrestia if Sylvain were to “mysteriously vanish” in the woods that surrounded them.

The two went quiet as they approached the fork in the road. They were just outside their target location. The jeers and hollers of the bandits could already be heard from where they stood. With a quiet set of hand gestures, the two men halted their horses to continue on foot.

Sylvain slid smoothly from his own saddle, while Hubert dismounted with significantly less grace. The mage’s foot had gotten tangled in on the stirrups, barely catching himself from falling face-first in the mud when he tried to pull it free. He glared murderously at the knight who dared snickering at his predicament.

Once Hubert’s feet were mercifully back on the ground, they led the animals to a nearby wooded area. The horses were quickly secured, and the two men grabbed their weapons.

Hubert snatched his tome while Sylvain chose the silver lance that had been secured to the saddle. After a moment of hesitation, Sylvain also grabbed the still-covered Lance of Ruin as well and strapped it to his back.

On quiet feet, they slipped their way through the forest to the bandit encampment. Hubert took the lead, watching the ground for any traps or trip wire alarms. Sylvain followed close behind, surprisingly light on his feet for one who was fully armoured.

Hubert peered through the leaves, assessing the camp that lay before him, and frowned.

There were more bandits than Shamir had mentioned in her scouting report. Likely, reinforcements had arrived shortly before he and Sylvain had set out on the mission. A cluster of four heavily armoured fortress knights were gathered at the centre of the camp. Two cavaliers on horseback patrolled the perimeter. Two snipers with bows in hand were perched in the trees, almost impossible to spot behind the thicket of leaves. A swordmaster and a brigand sat around a campfire, weapons set aside, chatting and hollering with one another.

“That’s a hell of a lot more than half a dozen bandits,” Sylvain hissed, crouched at Hubert’s side, “So, we heading back to the monastery for backup?”

Hubert’s eyes darted around the camp, assessing each of the foes.

“You’re capable of casting Balganone, yes?” Hubert whispered to Sylvain, his eyes locked onto the cluster of fortress knights.

“Sure, but trying to channel that spell through my lance is going to cut its power in half. It’s not going to be enough to burn through their armour, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sylvain frowned, nodding towards the same group of armoured knights through the branches.

Hubert went silent for a moment, thinking of their next course of action. An idea quickly sprung in his mind.

“I may have a solution,” whispered Hubert. He signalled for Sylvain to follow him.

They crept their way back to the tree where their horses were resting. The mare Hubert had rode lifted her head from the patch of grass she had been nibbling at. She snorted as he carefully approached her.

Hubert grabbed the cloth-wrapped lance that had been secured to the saddle. Carefully, he unwound its bindings, removed the cloth, and presented the weapon to Sylvain.

“It’s called the Arrow of Indra. Made of ancient technology and a relic of the old world long before the Church of Seiros was established. It was crafted with the intent to channel magic just as effectively as any tome or staff.”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide as he examined the lance. Tentatively, he received the weapon and gave the lance a gentle swing, testing its weight.

“Wow,” Sylvain breathed, mesmerized by the tiny sparks that flickered across the blade, “Where did you even find this thing?”

“That is of no concern right now,” Hubert hissed, “I do believe it should fit well with the hybrid combat techniques you have been utilizing lately and are seeking to master.”

“Guess it’s worth a try,” Sylvain left his silver lance with his horse, the Arrow of Indra taking its place on the knight’s back alongside the Lance of Ruin.

The two crept their way back to the outskirts of the bandit camp. The enemy formations had not changed much since they departed. The cavaliers were still a distance away from their comrades, keeping an eye for anyone approaching from the road. A rustle of leaves high up in the trees indicated that the snipers had not left their roosts. Meanwhile, the swordmaster and brigand at the fire pit passed a bottle of whisky back and forth, roaring with laughter. The fortress knights were still clustered together, looking over a map that had been stretched across a table.

“If we time our attacks correctly, we should be able to eliminate the fortress knights in one swoop,” Hubert whispered, “I’ll cast Mire first. The acid sludge conjured by the spell should hold them in place. At that point, you cast Balganone. With the acid already corroding their armour, the fire should have no difficulty penetrating their defenses and burning them to cinders.”

“And what about the snipers?” Sylvain pointed to the trees above the camp, “The second we launch those spells, they’ll be on top of us.”

“Banshee should be enough to immobilize for a time. I’ll cast Mire again to finished them off.”

“Will you be able to switch spells that quickly?” Sylvain frowned, “I might be able to fire Sagittae at them…”

“Focus on ensuring the fortress knights are eliminated. Removing them from the board will greatly bolster our chances of success. The brigand and swordmaster by the fire pit are of far greater concern to me,” Hubert grimaced, staring at the aforementioned soldiers who had currently stumbled to their feet and were taking turns throwing knives, poorly, at a target that had been scrawled on a nearby tree, “We can only hope that they are as inebriated as they appear.”

Sylvain nodded.

“I can deal with them if you can get rid of the cavaliers once they show up. Got those Dark Spikes handy?”

“And here I thought I was the one to be giving you magic advice,” Hubert chuckled.

Hubert readied his tome, the pages already radiating a dim, violet glow. He slipped between the branches through the woods, carefully not to step on anything that would alert the enemy. Sylvain followed close by, the Arrow of Indra in hand. Once their target was in range, the mage and the knight launched their attack.

Everyone went as planned.

Hubert’s Mire spell caught the fortress knights unaware. Horrified shrieks echoed from their helms as they tried to scrape away the corrosive slime that chewed through the heavy plates. One of the knights had tried to escape, only to find their foot tangled in the slime and falling face-first into the dark mire.

Sylvain immediately followed with Balganone, the spell launching flawlessly from the Arrow of Indra. Fire engulfed the group of fortress knights. Flames licked through their corroded armour, incinerating the soldiers inside.

Hubert wrinkled his nose as the scent of burnt flesh and melted iron filled the air.

A rustling from the trees above alerted him to the archers preparing to fire. Hubert cast the Banshee spell he had brewing, summoning a host of ghostly hands to hold the snipers in place. A series of curses and shouts sounded from the branches as the archers found themselves unable to move.

Hubert immediately switched to summoning dollops of mire on top of the archers.

An arrowed zipped by Hubert’s face, nearly grazing his cheek. One of the snipers must have broken free from Banshee. He cursed, jumping back and readying Mire once more.

A cascade of blinding arrows spiralled towards the treetops. Hubert turned to see Sylvain, pointing the Arrow of Indra towards the trees, the sharp tip glowing from the aftereffects of the Sagittae spell. The accuracy of the spell dubious, most of the magic arrows finding themselves stuck in the surrounding trees, nowhere near the hidden archers.

Nonetheless, the spell had fulfilled its intended purpose. Hubert used the distraction to finish casting Mire once more.

The cavaliers patrolling the edge of the camp began charging towards the commotion on horseback, while the brigand and the swordmaster stumbled to their feet and groped for their weapons.

Hubert silently nodded at Sylvain then towards the soldiers at the fire pit. Sylvain returned his own nod of affirmation before peeling off towards his targets.

The rumble of horse hooves became thunderous as the cavaliers approached. One of them had a javelin ready and aimed at Hubert.

Violet spikes, summoned by the mage, erupted from the ground and skewered both of the cavaliers and their steeds.    

Hubert turned to see that Sylvain had eliminated the swordmaster and was giving chase to the brigand.

The brigand staggered, breathing harsh and heavy as he ran. Blood streamed from multiple slashes against his chest.

He pulled out a coloured stone with the image of a crest.

Hubert’s eyes went wide. Cold surged through his body.

“Sylvain, wait!”

The knight halted, turning to Hubert with a look of annoyance and confusion. A look that immediately turned to horror as a bright, red light blazed through the camp.

Screams that could turn one’s blood to ice were ripped from the brigand. The sickening crunch of his bones snapping and realigning reverberated through the camp as the brigand’s frail human form was twisted and reforged into something monstrous. When the eldritch light vanished, a massive demonic beast stood where the brigand had once been.

The beast lumbered towards them, saliva dripping from a gaping maw of razor teeth. A series of sharp spines jutted from the creature’s back. Its red eyes were filled with nothing but mindless hunger.

“Sylvain!” Hubert hollered to his companion, “Be ready with another Balganone spell. It combined with Mire should be enough to melt through the beast’s thick hide…”

There was no response. The knight stared at the beast, his face blanched, eyes wide, and whole body shaking.

“Sylvain!” Hubert shouted again.

The paladin remained silent and unmoving. Terror was plastered across his face.

A very similar scene from years ago, from one of the first missions Sylvain had attended with the Black Eagles, flashed in Hubert’s memory. The scene of a young man, normally filled with aggravating amounts of bravado, frozen in horror as he watched his brother mutate into an incomprehensible nightmare before his eyes…

“Damn!” Hubert cursed as he saw the demonic beast began rushing towards Sylvain.

The mage fired a quick miasma spell at the monster, drawing the beast’s attention away from the knight who remained frozen place.

The beast roared and began charging towards Hubert. The mage dashed behind a nearby tent, hoping for some semblance of cover. The monster smashed through the flimsy structure, tearing through it like parchment.

“Sylvain!” Hubert screamed again, his voice becoming desperate. With tome in hand, he scrambled to cast another spell.

Sylvain blinked, finally broken from the spell of paralyzing fear. He turned towards Hubert and the monster, the Arrow of Indra readied.

“Cast Balganone! Now!” Hubert shouted, his Mire spell already brewing.

Sylvain held out his lance and began conjuring his own spell.

The dark sludge and the bright flames collided into the beast at the same time. Enraged roars filled the air. It twitched and squirmed, trying to shake away the burning substance that had coated its scales. Two of its sharp spines melted and snapped off as the boiling mire continued to eat away at it. Fissures of steam lifted from areas where the sludge was chewing through particularly thick clusters of scales. The stench was unbearable, as if a volcano had erupted under a bog.

The beast collapsed, its armoured hide stripped away, exposing the scorched, vulnerable flesh beneath. Weakly, the monster wriggled, trying to regain its footing, only to fall back down.

Sylvain used the opportunity to sprint ahead and drive the Arrow of Indra through the weakened skull of the monster. The monster made one last feeble cry as the blade pierced it before falling dead.

Sylvain tore the bloodied lance away. He stood over the slain beast, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and frenzied.

With the last threat eliminated, the two silently searched through the remnants of the camp, looking for clues as to what the bandit’s plans were.

Nothing of interest surfaced. Even the maps that the fortress knights had been pouring over were non-descript diagrams of the area’s terrain and local settlements.

An uneasy chill set in Hubert’s bones. The presence of a crest stone screamed involvement of those who slither in the dark. Unfortunately, the ruined camp offered no clues as to their plans or whereabouts. Hubert cursed under his breath. He would be sure to report the incident to Lady Edelgard and the professor, as well as have his information network search the area for more evidence, but it was doubtful such an investigation would bear any fruit.

With their task completed, Hubert and Sylvain departed from the camp and made their way back to their horses.

Hubert glanced over at his companion and frowned. The knight was uncharacteristically quiet. His jaw was clenched, eyes blazing furiously at the trail before him.

“Sylvain—”

“Look, just save it!” Sylvain snapped, “I know I screwed up back there. It won’t happen again!”

“…I was merely going to inquire as to your wellbeing…”

“Oh…” said Sylvain, his shoulders slumping as his anger visibly deflated, “…I’m alright…I guess…”

A moment of silent hung between them again before Hubert spoke once more.

“I imagine our encounter caused some unpleasant memories of Miklan to surface...”

Sylvain laughed bitterly.

“Is it that obvious?” the knight spat. He sighed heavily before speaking again.

“I’ve fought dozens of these demonic beasts, but this one…seeing that transformation…hearing those screams…Miklan was always a right bastard, but I still can’t shake the feeling that if things had been different then maybe…”

“I know it is not my place to speak of matters concerning your family,” Hubert said hesitantly, “but Miklan’s decisions, regarding his banditry as well as the theft of the Lance of Ruin, are of his own doing. True, the rigid caste system instilled by this continent’s overvalue of crests had dealt him an unfavourable hand in life, but what he chose to do with that hand, and the subsequent consequences incurred, are not your burden to bear.”

“Yeah…I know…” Sylvain sighed; his eyes downcast. Several moments of silence passed before he spoke once more.

“What about you? Got any older siblings?”

The simple inquiry cut surprisingly deep. Images of his younger brother and sister flashed through his mind. It had been some time since he had last seen Matilda and Theodore. Both of them would be adults by now: Matilda a young woman in her early twenties and, based on what their mother had written in her last letter, it sounded as if Theodore was nearly as tall as Hubert in height. With pang of sadness, Hubert pondered if he would even recognize his younger siblings anymore. He knew that they, as well as their mother, were all safely in hiding, but he could not risk visiting them while Thales watched his every move.

“No. I do not,” Hubert stated flatly in the end.

Sylvain only hummed in response, letting the conversation drop.  

The two returned to their horses, secured their weapons, and prepared to depart. Hubert had managed to situate himself in the saddle with no dramatics this time. He was just about to steer the mare towards Garreg Mach when Sylvain turned to him with a grin.

“So…how about I tell you about that spot I mentioned earlier.”

Hubert groaned, burying his face in one hand while the other still clung to the horse’s reins.

“Must we continue this farce?”

“Hey, I said I would help you find ways to woo Ferdinand if you helped me with my reason magic. Not only did you give me some good pointers back there, but you also let me use that lance of yours. Seriously, that thing is a game-changer, you have to tell me where you found it!”

“I would hardly count loaning you a necessary tool and shouting orders during the heat of battle as any sort of valuable tutelage,” Hubert muttered.

“Hey, I’m a man of my word. It’s the least I can do.”

Hubert winced, chewing at his bottom lip and internally pleading for his face to stop mimicking the colour of a ripe tomato.

“That information is not necessary. Where Ferdinand fantasizes of engaging in amorous activities is his business and his business alone. I do not require intimate details of what Ferdinand would find to be a suitable tryst location.”

“Tryst location?  Who said anything about a tryst location. I’m just suggesting an interesting spot you may enjoy. Maybe somewhere you can…relax. And if one day, you and Ferdinand both happen to end up in the place I mention…well that’s none of my business, is it?” Sylvain said with a wink.

“Very well. If you insist,” Hubert sighed in a voice that certainly did not hitch above its normal octave, while his heart absolutely did not flutter in his chest like a bird trying to break out of its cage.

“Well then. Let’s get a move on!” Sylvain smirked, guiding his horse down the trail, and signalling Hubert to follow him.

With a loud groan, Hubert urged the mare forward into a light trot, trailing after the knight.

After riding along the trails for about twenty minutes, Sylvain came to stop. Hubert brought his own horse to a halt as he eyed the surroundings.

There was nothing of particular interest in the area. It resembled much of the same forest that he and Sylvain had been tasked to scout. Situated at the base of the mountain range, the forest was little different than any other could be found within Adrestia. There were no ponds or trickling streams to draw the eye. The place did hold a certain pastoral quaintness to it, with its pine trees and small patches of wildflowers dotting the trails, there a sense of tranquility that some would find pleasing. Although Hubert could not picture Ferdinand necessarily disliking the spot, the location hardly seemed like the type of area to be of memorable notice to Ferdinand’s gregarious attention.

“This is the location?” Hubert inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“You bet!” Sylvain grinned, pointing to a spot up high and above the trees, “Right up there!”

Hubert’s stomach plummeted and whatever colour was in his pale face was leeched away as he looked at the land formation beyond the trees that Sylvain was gesturing towards.

“The…Oghma Mountains,” Hubert stated flatly. He miraculously kept his voice neutral, but just looking at the mountain made him feel lightheaded and dizzy, “You are suggesting we climb the Oghma Mountains…”

“It’s perfect!” Sylvain beamed, “The guy loves heights! You should have seen the way Ferdinand’s face lit up every time we were at the top of any sort of valley, cliff, or even large hill. He would spend a solid ten minutes gushing about how extravagant the view was. I thought Felix was going to pitch him off the last hill…”

Hubert was only half-listening. The mountains loomed before him, a battalion of hostile giants that threatened to crush him. Images flashed through his mind of himself falling from the dizzying height and turning into paste once his body slammed into the ground far below. Or perhaps he would be impaled by one of the many trees on his way down?

Memories of a foolish young boy who had tried to follow his dreams and climb atop a pegasus returned to him as well. It was one of his earliest memories and Hubert still felt ill thinking about the incident. He had clung to the beast’s neck, screaming, as the pegasus launched itself into the air. It had tried its best to buck the young rider of its back as it tore through the sky, the ground treacherously far away from his reach. It was only through the timely rescue from his mother that Hubert had not ended up as a broken, mangled corpse at the age of five.

“There’s a cliff edge right over there,” Sylvain pointed to a ledge that was nauseatingly far from the ground, “Petra and I found the spot a few weeks ago during sky watch duties. The view up there is pretty great, and I don’t think many people have found that spot.”

Stricken, Hubert’s eyes darted up and down the cliff. The face of the cliff was steep drop. There was no gradual incline that could be traversed to access the spot.

“And pray tell, how exactly am I supposed to reach that location?” Hubert hissed, “Do you expect me to scale that cliff face like some sort of squirrel?”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow at the comment and frowned.

“Can’t you just, you know, warp there?”

It was Hubert’s turn to quirk and eyebrow and scowl.

“I am sure you may have noticed, but the faith magic required to cast that spell is not my speciality. At best, I am able to cast a moderately effective healing spell if forced to make use of that particular branch of magic,” Hubert said with a grimace, recalling the dreadful faith magic lessons the professor had pushed him to undergo in order to develop his non-existent healing abilities. An endeavor the professor had thankfully abandoned when Hubert’s ill-fated attempt of casting Physic on a frog had resulted in the creature exploding.

“Well, I know that,” Sylvain snorted, “But what about the other warp spells? The ones used by those creepy mages that pop up from time to time. They didn’t use faith magic for those…”

Hubert’s blood went cold. He and Lady Edelgard had done their best to shield the majority of the imperial army from their unsavory, but unfortunately necessary, dealings with those who slither in the dark. Jeritza and the professor were the only ones he knew for sure that were privy to the information. Even so, between Thales’s insistence of appearing uninvited at the monastery and his mages’ only undergoing the minimal effort to hide their presence, it was not surprising that others within the army were becoming aware of their involvement.

Sylvain’s annoyingly observant nature was going to continue to be a nuisance.

“I do not possess the knowledge for that particular spell,” Hubert stated flatly. He suppressed a shiver, thinking about Thales’s offer of dark magic knowledge that went far beyond Hubert’s own. It was a poisoned offering. A festering thing of maggots and thorns. One that would have forever condemned him to be of the same malignant ilk as Thales himself had he accepted.

In another life, had things been only a little different, had the professor and their classmates not rallied to her majesty’s side in her time of need, Hubert may have accepted the tainted offer…   

“What made you think I would be capable of such magic, anyway?” Hubert hissed at the knight.

“I don’t know. It just seemed like something you’d be able to do…” Sylvain said with a small shrug, “There’s a small pathway just up ahead and to the left that should get you up there. It’s a bit overgrown, but it’s still manageable by foot…You know, I’m sure Petra would lend you her wyvern if you wanted to get up there quickly…”

Hubert’s stomach did a somersault at the suggestion. A tinge of green seeping into his face. The only thing worse than climbing a tall cliff was the thought of having to ride one of those damnable flying reptiles.  

“The footpath will do just fine,” Hubert said curtly.

“Suit yourself,” Sylvain shrugged, “Well, do what you want with the information. But I personally think that romantic little vantage point is your ticket to wowing Ferdinand.”

Hubert continued to stare at the mountain, his brow furrowed enough likely to leave permanent lines.

He knew Sylvain was right. That Ferdinand would be absolutely enamoured by the view that cliff edge would bring. The mountains were nestled snug at the point where the borders of all three countries converged. The particular vantage point Sylvain mentioned would provide a clear view of Leicester, Adrestia, and the Airmid river that snaked between them. Hubert could already see the way Ferdinand’s face would light up, enthralled by the majestic view before him. The way his amber eyes would dance with joy and his melodic voice would drift through the air as he sang praises about how the vast forests and fields stretched out below him…

“I will…give it some thought.”

Hubert cast one, last grimacing look at the mountain as he and Sylvain departed.

As much as Hubert wished to see the radiance of Ferdinand’s awestruck smile as he gazed upon the grand horizon presented by the rarely used vantage point, he was absolutely not about to risk traversing a towering death trap in order to do so.