#i have no patience for horse people and it is So Expensive

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

... I want to do horsey things again

[oneatlatime]

Zuko Alone

I'm hoping for some Appa this episode. It's been too long since he's gotten any good sight gags.

Zuko is cosplaying Clint Eastwood. He's also back to being stupid pale this episode.

You know it's a good thing that Zuko's not in the Fire Nation anymore because he really would have sucked at being Fire Nation. Robbing pregnant women is probably kindergarden level stuff for them.

How is Zuko in such bad shape? Last time we saw him he had a cave full of spoils robbed from rich people. Did he not bother to pack at least some of that stuff? Actually, not thinking far enough ahead to pack would be pretty in character.

Oof that would rub me the wrong way. Not enough money for a meal, but sure, let's use totally edible eggs as ammo.

Where'd the egg go?

Who is the scarred up hat wearing vampire and what happened to the real Zuko? Imposter Zuko just elected to not be provoked into a fight. Real Zuko would already be setting things on fire.

Just a bunch of thugs. Yep. It's consistently awesome how many of the facets of war this show can cover.

Imposter Zuko and Song's horse bird just got kidnapped. Did not see that coming.

Zuko kind of has arm bandages like Sokka has this episode. Also love the character detail that the boy has scraped knees.

Is the kid's dad the same guy as the man at the store? Or maybe this is a one haircut town?

So the guy who was near to fainting off his horse bird this morning is now turning down freely offered food? Could Zuko please shelve his pride for five minutes? Kudos to the mom for accurately reading his distaste for charity and turning it into a request for aid though. Although covering for the boy's egg trick is worth at least a meal.

Tangent!

I don't get Zuko. How can he still have so much pride when he's wearing rags and starving himself to feed Song's horse bird? I'm quite shameless when it comes to accepting help and I've never, ever been able to understand the whole 'too proud to accept charity' mindset. I'm always up for some charity. I have enough manners to offer to do the dishes after, but if you're offering free food I'm eating it. And I've never been in a situation as desperate as Zuko's. So I don't get this.

ok tangent over.

Peak rich kid behaviour. I hope those nails aren't expensive otherwise Zuko doing work for food might end up with this family out of pocket.

Is the wood grain on this ladder an actual photograph of wood grain?

Zuko has more patience this episode than he had for all of season 1 combined. He's also never gone this long without yelling. Either proximity to young children activates Zuko's otherwise mostly slumbering decency, or to fit him into a Fistful of Dollars homage the writers had to make him out of character.

If I had been in this situation when I was a kid, if I had been a) this visibly bored, and b) this nosy around guests, I would have been given a hammer and a bag of nails in three seconds flat. Also, nice to see a Sokka face from Zuko.

I get that 'a man without a past' is a staple of the cowboy genre, but the boy's father bringing up the privacy of the past twice in like two minutes makes me think he's done stuff he doesn't want to talk about. Seems both the parents have read Zuko right though.

Finally! Some pretty! I have been suffering! This may be the first really good pretty all season!

Bad news for the Appa decor on my blog. He may have been supplanted in my affections.

Two things: first, Zuko is a carbon copy of his mom. Second, That is way too much forehead.

Having Zuko's mom introduce herself by talking about the lengths mothers will go to for their children is not giving me foreshadowing anxiety at all.

Azula's been a bitch since birth. Noted.

Sir, your eyebrows. Also, yeah, I wouldn't want to play with her either.

Yikes this is making my teeth itch and my skin crawl. Calling it now, she's rotten to the core.

Zuko and Azula's dad has some weak ass genes. BOTH of his children are carbon copies of their mom.

Also, I was not expecting Zuko's very stupid ponytail to be a pre-scar thing. It is much better with a full head of hair.

If I had spent my childhood hanging out with an untouchable princess who set things on my head on fire for fun whenever I involuntarily displayed emotion, I'd be gloomy and apathetic in self defense too.

Sokka in this episode in spirit, if not in person.

Seriously that's the same face three times over!

Um, no? If Iroh doesn't make it back from the front, doesn't his son become next in line to be Firelord?

Can you hear all the unspoken "father thinks that" and "father says that" in front of every one of Azula's opinions in this whole scene? I stand by my assertion that she's awful anyways, but she's also obviously drunk much too much of her dad's koolaid, if you know what I mean.

This kid is going to get into so much trouble one of these days. Provoking the soldiers, nagging the mysterious stranger with the mysterious past, and now taking his weapons? Kid's sweet but he really needs to learn when to stop pushing his luck.

Stabbing dead, dried wood sounds like a great way to utterly annihilate the edge on those. Hope Zuko packed a whetstone.

Where is this patience coming from? I don't understand and it's BUGGING me.

Hold on. Technical problems.

My very basic DVD player sometimes has difficulty with these disks. Whatever happened between the above two screenshots, I've missed it. So picking back up from the one on the right...

Either these soldiers are impressively cowardly (which, yeah) or Zuko's really been working on his death glare, because they've got him outnumbered and out-armoured and they still back off.

OH it's parallels! Zuko's cousin and the boy's older brother. Got it. Kind of a false parallel though. Grandson of the Firelord does not equal earth kingdom conscript.

Give the demonstrably impulsive and nosy child a knife. That'll work out just fine I'm sure. Pretty sad the kid glommed on to Zuko so quickly, but it's also yet another realistic representation of the consequences of war. This show's good.

*shudders* theatre kids.

She's tiny! Do you know how darkly humourous it is to watch a two foot tall baby spout her father's murderous nonsense? Once again, in this whole scene, not a word out of Azula's mouth is actually Azula's.

"What is wrong with that child?" Apart from budding homicidal and psychopathic tendencies? Her dad. Her dad is what's wrong with that child.

Their dad has no subtlety at all. And also no brain? You think a day after the firelord finds out one of his family died is the right time to very boorishly make a play for the crown with you daughter as a prop? Could you possibly come up with a better demonstration of why this guy shouldn't be in charge?

How did this asshole land such a nice wife?

Yep. Siding with the old firelord on this one.

Does flashback Zuko sleep in his day clothes? Because that's not ok.

I like that their mom sees straight through Azula's lying here. She knows her daughter.

In a move that should surprise no one, everything Zuko touches turns to shit, as usual.

It's the Mexico filter!

Absolute truth from Zuko in that monologue. He's got them pegged. Too bad it fell on deaf ears. It's Zuko's curse, that whenever he approaches being remotely reasonable, he happens to be surrounded by people who will react in such a way that Zuko learns to equate being reasonable with failure.

An earthbender. The bare feet should have clued me in.

Last season Zuko and Iroh laid waste to like ten of these guys. And Iroh didn't even have pants. So what gives? Is he that starved?

Ursa pulling a Mufasa.

Don't answer don't answer don't answer

And he does.

Zuko is so very good at completely misinterpreting the point.

So we can add thief to the list of things that make Azula awful. Also that delivery of "who's going to make me? Mom?" is chilling. Zuko's lost his only defender inside this atrocious family and she knows it, he knows it, hell the turtleducks probably know it.

His dying wish? You guys buying that?

Ozai. That's his name. I'd forgotten that.

So... something something dead firelord something something missing mom something something maybe Azula wasn't actually lying this time?

Final Thoughts

The title wasn't kidding. Let's rename the show 'Avatar: the Guy who's Really Bad at Capturing Him' while we're at it.

There is now no way whatsoever that Zuko is not going to be redeemed. No writing team would invest that much energy and a whole episode into a character we're not ultimately supposed to root for. So somehow he's going to end up joining the Gaang. Don't know how he'll pull that one off. He's done some pretty not great stuff. And it's not like the Gaang watched this episode and unlocked his tragic backstory.

Speaking of, what prompted these reflections? I could understand if Zuko started to contemplate his cousin and the events surrounding his loss in the war after he learned about the family's older brother, but he was having flashbacks before he even got to town. Usually when there are backstory bits, there's a good reason to show them at that time, like how the Storm prompts Aang to think about the last storm he was in, or seeing a boat from his father's fleet prompts Sokka to remember what his dad told him. So what caused Zuko's memories to give him situationally appropriate flashbacks?

Pretty funny that he found the Nice Earth Kingdom Family that Azula predicted for him. And they are really nice! Either Zuko is an open book or the parents' social intelligence is off the charts because they're giving him exactly what he needs to feel at ease after barely a single conversation.

Speaking of Azula, I'm not surprised to find that she's always had deeply awful tendencies, even as a child of (I'm guessing) less than ten. But it cannot be ignored that, from the moment her father took a liking to her (as a tool to boost his own greatness, if not as a person), she didn't stand a chance. You can tell by the number of times that the stuff coming out of her mouth is a thinly veiled repetition of her father's unfiltered opinions, that she's been spending lots of time listening to him, probably while he puts down her mom and brother and talks about how she's the special one. You know what I'm getting at. Azula never stood a chance once her father got involved, and her mom lost the ability to influence her once her father started giving Azula praise for objectively wrong behaviour. That being said, Azula is awful even when she doesn't need to be awful for her father's approval, like when she's with her friends, so it's not all her father's doing. She's not a good person but she also had plenty of help to become that.

I guess Zuko and his mom are Fire Nation anomalies? And maybe Iroh has become that since his son died and he lost the war?

How on earth did Zuko survive as long as he did in the palace without his mom to protect him? What a no-win situation to be in. The only person in a whole nation with empathy.

This episode does makes Season 1 Zuko make more sense. He's been larping his dad as a defense mechanism for surviving the Fire Nation/probably a very futile effort to earn his approval. Although Zuko doesn't seem to care much for his dad if the tone he takes with him by the turtleduck pond is any indication.

Being banished was the best thing that ever happened to Zuko. The more distance between him and his remaining non-uncle family, the better. Between prioritizing his crew over capturing the avatar in the Storm, releasing the Avatar in the Blue Spirit, and now defending a random earth kingdom child this episode, it's hilarious how much Zuko HASN'T learned the lesson that Ozai banished him for not knowing. Don't get me wrong; that's a good thing. This episode plainly shows that behaviour that pleases Ozai is behaviour that should be unlearned as quickly as possible.

Zuko completely missing the point of his mom's last instruction is delightfully on the nose. But it also makes sense, which I may talk more about later.

How did Zuko hold on to his temper (and his volume) for a whole episode?

How did a show named after the main character get away with an episode that doesn't feature him at all? As a concept, this is such a strange episode. The writers were like "how can we kick start the woobification of Zuko? I know! A Spaghetti Western!" and it worked. Who comes up with that?

I now want at least as much, if not more, of Sokka and Katara's childhood via flashbacks. And more Gyatso please. If they can devote a whole episode to the childhood of a guy who isn't even a team member yet, they can show me some Sokka childhood shenanigans as a palette cleanser.

I really don't know what conclusion to draw about this episode. The writers have given me a massive backstory/trauma dump and I'm honestly like:

[poorlittleyaoyao]

There aren't horses in cql?? In what direction cql takes that scene?? Again why there aren't horses 😭😭. It's very cool in the novel

CQL has very few horses in general! One of the best things about Fatal Journey to me, a former Weird Horse Girl, was that the Nie soldiers ride horses. I vaguely remember Wen Chao riding a horse with Jiaojiao en route to Xuanwu Cave, and there are occasional background horses here and there, but other than that CQL has minimal horse content--presumably because horses are expensive and dangerous and if they had the budget/patience for that, they would've spent it on having more human extras so the supposedly epic battles have more than like 20 people in them.

The archery contest in the show takes place in the wake of Sunshot as a precursor to the Phoenix Mountain Hunt. The young masters who aren't sect leader all line up to try their best at archery--but then! Ominous cellos play as master of ceremonies Jin Guangyao beckons forward some guards who lead out a row of shackled Wen prisoners who are clearly civilians to stand in front of the targets as an added obstacle.

Jin Zixuan steps forward and successfully shoots a target.

WWX then blindfolds himself, shoots like 4 arrows at once, and hits bullseyes with all four of them, forcing an end to the competition because nobody could possibly beat him.

I dislike that scene for SEVERAL reasons. Firstly, it's cheesy; it's another instance of showing that WWX is soooOOOooOOOoo cool by having him demonstrate an implausible protagonist skill we will never see again. Secondly, it makes every single other character look like an asshole, but I don't think it intends to do that. Everybody present sees these terrified, malnourished prisoners led out in in chains, and some of them make vaguely perturbed faces, but nobody actually objects to it. Someone pointed out to me when I grumbled about this scene previously that WWX's trick shot is potentially an act of resistance since it frees the prisoners, and I can get behind that interpretation; however, the framing of the scene centers the Coolness Factor above all else, and there's no moment of WWX acknowledging the prisoners as people that would've been a nice setup to his actions re: the Wen remnants later (since, IIRC, he meets up with WQ later in the same episode).

More importantly, though... in the novel, from what I understand, the question being grappled with is when and whether retribution is justified. The Wen remnants are not all civilians and some of them directly profited from WRH's regime; WWX's opposition to their mistreatment (and NMJ et al's rejection of that opposition) is more complicated. In CQL, it is established VERY early that WQ and WN are from a separate branch of the Wen clan and were also oppressed by WRH, and it is this branch who comprise the majority of the people WWX rescues. We also have two instances establishing that the Jin sect is imprisoning and executing noncombatants. In the first, LXC expresses concern at Nightless City that there are non-cultivators among the prisoners, and extracts an assurance from JGS and NMJ that civilians will be imprisoned but treated kindly (after which we immediately see JGY order a mass execution on his father's orders).

In the second, WWX and LWJ personally witness Jin Zixun and his men firing arrows at a group of Wen prisoners (A-Yuan among them) and intervene.

So by the time we get to the archery competition, WWX, the Twin Jades, and NMJ have all witnessed and objected to Jin mistreatment of Wen hostages... and yet none of them has anything to say about the very public use of hostages as archery props, except for WWX and his trick shot, I guess. NMJ, known for being honorable to a fault, has nothing to say about JGS breaking his word. LXC, known for his kindness, has nothing to say about a public display of cruelty (overseen by his bf, no less!) that he himself already spoke against. LWJ, who never attended a gathering he didn't immediately exit the second he decided it wasn't the vibe, stays put, does nothing, and also apparently didn't mention Jin Zixun's target practice to anybody with decision-making powers. Later on, these three men will have very little to say when it's time for the cultivation conference to discuss WWX establishing the Burial Mounds settlement. (LWJ speaks up to defend WWX from allegations that he spoke ill of JC, LXC half-heartedly states that WQ and WN seemed nice enough when he saw them at Gusu, and NMJ is adamant that all Wens be punished as collaborators.)

Meanwhile, this all makes Jin Zixuan's lack of knowledge about JGS's atrocities as Chief Cultivator seem... pretty damning. JGS using JGY to do all his dirty work while keeping Jin Zixuan shielded from it all is a huge deal, and being transparently seen as a tool rather than a son is a core component of JGY's bitterness. In the novel, from what I understand, Zixuan really has no idea about the secret demonic cultivation research or anything. In the show, however, Zixuan is RIGHT THERE, WITNESSING THIS ARCHERY CONTEST HIS DAD IS SPONSORING. He is therefore aware that something fucked up is going on! And his response... is to participate in the contest? To shoot an arrow with no further objection or questioning, even though he's the only young lord present who doesn't have to fear retribution from JGS and doesn't have formative memories of his parents getting murdered by WRH? Okay. Cool cool. (Meanwhile, sweet little JYL claps happily when he does a good job, and claps even MORE enthusiastically when WWX does. GIRL, THERE ARE HOSTAGES.)

Honestly, the only people for whom I find this scene interesting rather than frustrating are JGY and JC. JC looks both deeply uncomfortable and DEEPLY STRESSED OUT when he sees WWX step forward; he looks so relieved when all WWX does is shoot some cool arrows, and it's a good little glimpse into the awful choices JC is soon going to have to make now that he's the political face of Yunmeng Jiang. JGY is racking up villain points here, obviously, but in a way that at least is compelling; it's politically prudent for him to go all-in on harming the Wen to prove that he has no lingering ties to his former employers. For everyone else, though, it's got ramifications and all of them are Not Great!

Granted, I don't feel as if the show wants you to think about it too hard. I think they wanted to include the archery contest since it's in the book (and contains a Wangxian flirting moment that they can get past censors), and they wanted to also establish WWX as super cool, JGS and JGY as super bad, and the Wen remnants as helpless victims. It's not that deep. Unfortunately, I am here to OVERTHINK.

[greypetrel]

FINALLY I JOIN THE PARADE

For Cullen and Aisling: 84 and 86 And for Radha and Solas: 63 ( >:D) and 90

WHEN I WAS A YOUNG BOY- 🎶

Wrong parade, wrong parade!

Tis the prompt list

84. Have they ever almost lost one another? How does it effect their relationship?

Yes. A couple of times, but the worst is in Trespasser.

My headcanon is that the Anchor started to get bad before the Exalted Council, flaring up more and more often. Nothing she tried worked, she was only getting worse and worse. Dorian didn't find anything in Minrathous on the subject: she reached the Exalted Council and she knew she was dying. Perks of being a healer.

Solas saved... well, not the day but her life. She survived yet again, but felt him going as if he was abandoning her. Her deepest fear is Abandonment, so yeah.

it was the kick she and Cullen both needed to stop pursuing the right thing to do and disband the Inquisition, finding something that they wanted to do, not just... Were called to do and fit them.

86. Who gives the best gifts? Who gives the more thoughtful? Who goes for expensive?

Aisling needed time to get back believing he was there to stay for real and find the way to trust him and other people again. She'll need more time alone and he'll need all his patience to bear through it without turning into an helicopter husband overtly worried. She gave him and everyone around her reason to worry. It'll be a couple of rough years of readjusting and learning to live without no one else telling them how to. In the end, tho, they're good for each other and the right people to power it through.

And when the situation gets too gloomy, there's Sera and Dagna living next door.

(Cullen will sustain Aisling in redeeming Solas, but not agreeing with her. He's there for her, she knows him better and he trusts her on the matter. He still has a plan B, C and D just in case, and will take him quite some time to stop giving him the cold shoulder should they meet. And, he won't exactly be as calm as he was from her leaving without him, even if it's temporary. He'll need some time too.)

Cullen would give the more thoughtful. Purely out of the fact that he'll find difficult to find something she may actually appreciate in the way he wants. She's low maintainance and won't require much, will appreciate a dirty handkerchief if it comes from him, but he wants something special. So it's always extra thought and extra attention. Like: a set of farrier tools. She never considered it but LOVED it. (Josie loved it less because "Yes there's the inquisitor, filing the hooves of the horses. Don't mind the horse munching on her hair, please *sigh*")

Aisling is a listener and a giver with a great memory. She'll gift him usually THAT thing he said he could possibly need or like, absent-mindedly. She's a cheapskate for herself, but for gifts? He said it would have been nice to have another mabari to keep Bran -the first one- company? At the ready, she'll bring him to the kennel and tell him to choose all the puppies he wants.

She's precise and pinpointed in everything, and in gifts too.

63. How would they describe one another in bed?

(Delfino curioso!)

Radha is asexual, so... yeah. There won't be much description here. They never got to the point that she was willing to try it for his sake. As for what it's gonna happen in Veilguard... Ask this again in a year? xD

90. Would they ever consider starting a family?

Yes, absolutely. She gave him a bonding gift in Skyhold.

Radha is very attached to the family and albeit she doesn't want to have children of her own, she'd be ready to start one. Just the two of them, adopting children, spirits... She'd really like a cat.

But.

I don't like theorizing much on Veilguard because I prefer to get into the game without ideas of my own.

But in the meanwhile she became an aunt. Both of her siblings spawned, and she loves her niece and nephew to bits.

She is willing to start a family with him, if he has a mind to it. But her one condition is that the Veil stays up, or he brings her proofs whose bibliography is not "I saw it in a dream" that when the Veil falls, the situation will be manageable and under control, and that there won't be an issue with you know. The Evanuris free again and very angry.

Should the Veil fall and something happen to their parents, she'll step up and take care of them without thinking it twice. She will go the extra mile to grant them the best life she can, there's not even a question for her.

She won't ever be able to forgive him for leaving them orphans, tho.

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

    Johnny leaned his arms on the top rail of the pen and watched the mare in silence for a few moments before saying, “I think if anyone can train a buckin’ horse to do anythin’, it’s probably you.”

            “I think you could do it, too.”

            “Takes a lot of patience.”

            “I believe in you.” Victor curled an arm through Johnny’s, rubbing a thumb along the light hairs on the side of his hand. “I think it’s a perfect match—retired rodeo rider with retired rodeo horse.”

            “I don’t have the money to pay you for her right now.”

            “That’s fine. I’ll cover her expenses for the first few months of training. It was my decision to buy her. Maybe tomorrow you’ll decide you don’t want her. That’s fine. I’ll do what I can and just resell her.”

            Johnny looked down at Victor’s thumb on his skin before curling his hand around and weaving his fingers through Victor’s. “Can’t believe you bought me a fuckin’ horse.”

            Victor snorted and leaned his temple on Johnny’s bicep. “Happy two-month anniversary.”

            “Most people just buy flowers.”

            “Shouldn’t date someone like me if you want flowers instead of horses.”

            Johnny smiled and leaned down to rest his head forehead on Victor’s temple. Victor turned and tilted his head up to catch his mouth. Johnny hadn’t shaved in two days, so it made the kiss scratchy and got Victor’s terminally gay heart more excited than a simple kiss warranted. When the kiss ended, Victor reached up to cradle his jaw with a hand to keep him close. Johnny’s face was pinkened with mild sunburn and in this light the scars on his face were more evident than ever, but to Victor’s infatuation-addled brain, he was probably one of the most handsome men in the world. One horse was nothing. Victor would buy and train a thousand for this man.  

[lover-of-the-starkindler]

Prisoner of Zenda (1979)

Anthony Hope’s novel The Prisoner of Zenda is either the formative influence of the tropes I adore or one that manages to hit the sweet spot of most of them, and I’ve long said that MGM should do a shot for shot remake of their 1930′s version of the story, kind of like a ‘draw it again’ meme because it would be a lovely example of changing cinematography and filmmaking philosophy (and we also have the 1950s version to compare).

After watching the loosely adapted version with Peter Sellers I had a few thoughts, some snarky remarks, appreciation, and a laugh count...

Opening: !!!LANDSCAPE!!! PRETTY! not quite so enthusiastic about the king in the balloon, though, since he’s drinking and presumably about to meet his end. 

YIKE--oh, okay, wine cork through the bag is maybe funny and not the disaster I was envisioning at this point. ....and, nope, not amused by the irony of the actual death.

I’m having flashbacks to The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood; ah-ha, it IS Black Michael (who is a red-head, and not quite as charismatic as Prince John, though that may be a deliberate choice to have Michael overtly tyrannical) and here’s Rupert of Hentzau who is pretty. Pretty annoying, that is, and it seems Black Michael agrees. 

And here are Sapt and Fritz going to retrieve their prince from London... it’s interesting that the prince is expensively dressed, but the count is well dressed. If only the count had chosen his wife with the same care he bestowed on his wardrobe, we wouldn’t have to sit through this flirtation and mayhem in the club. Points to the count for his casual exit of the fountain after leaping in with his clothes on fire; and a point to Sapt for his use of a non-flaming pan and a cuspidor, the exits are the best part of the sequence.

Ah, we meet the cabbie with his uncanny resemblance to the prince. Sapt has a BRILLIANT idea. He and Fritz try to convince the cabbie to come to Ruritania--ooh, an actual laugh for Sapt and Fritz’s improv on the skills of the coachmen they’ve met. Poor Fritz, he’s really not cut out for this. ...and I call that the cabbie is talking about his horse right away; am I supposed to know that so that the dialogue is funnier? Either way, I’ll give it a hah, and kudos to the cabbie for looking after his business partner.

The count is back, and looking snazzy in a morning suit. Pity he runs into the cabbie who has no patience for a duel among gentlemen, and so the count is left without satisfaction. 

OOOOOH Fritz, you are not subtle in setting up the decoy. :/ On the bright side, the cabbie is a nice guy and the people at the station are going to have a lovely favorable impression of their new king. The cabbie is also confused by Fritz’s show of protocol, which is probably good for another hah. 

There’s a moment where Fritz realizes that he may not actually survive the attempt on the decoy’s life, and he swallows and takes his lumps bravely. What a cinnamon roll. Someone get this boy a new job. Or a better king. The cabbie takes the reins and wields his whip like an action hero! (DID RUPERT JUST GET TOSSED IN THE DITCH? HA! TAKE THAT RUPERT!)

SCENERY!!! CASTLE!!! NICE!!! But we have the spoiled prince to contrast with the cabbie and he doesn’t come off well. The staff are mildly confused when they meet the cabbie, and the cabbie is Suspicious and Demands Answers. We have a Discovery that there is Another (half-brother, that is, which explains the resemblance) and a kidnapping which is more cringe than comedy, which is sad because we were doing drama decently. Sapt convinces the cabbie to continue playing decoy.

Rupert taunts/flirts with Antoinette de Maubin. She slaps him. He backs off. Creepily.

OOOOOH Black Michael and Rupert have NICE uniforms for the coronation. And... aw, it’s the count again. And he’s in a snit.

Did we HAVE to mock the clergy? It’s sad, since we have a solemn moment when the cabbie is crowned.

Black Michael: How is this even possible? Rupert what did you do? Rupert: I swear I had nothing to do with this.

Flavia, love, what did you do to your hair? Oh, the 80s. I see. XD

It’s a bit out of place for the cabby to use the orb as a bowling ball, but I’ll grant it a laugh.

Now this is interesting. Zero effort is made to sell a cabbie/Flavia romance, and when she sees the difference between the prince and the cabbie he starts to tell her the truth right then and there and only Sapt’s swift intervention puts it off. And in every other interaction between the two they’re very honest and even kind to one another which is highly refreshing given how petty and cruel the other characters are.

Count: 1 wacky outfit, 1 horrible attempt at murder by croquet ball, 1 misfire. Props for dramatic tension, though?

The prince tries to convince Black Michael to let him go. What a poor little pathetic excuse for a man. Like, I think we were supposed to laugh when the prince rated his butterfly collection higher than the treasury or crown jewels, but, really, that’s just so sad. 

Plans are made for a double or triple cross; the major players meet at an abandoned windmill and, okay, having both sides pick a chicken for their ‘secret signal’ that all is not well is good for a laugh. Sapt and Fritz bumbling around does their characters no favors, alas. The night scenes here are BEAUTIFULLY lit; there are some wide shots that look more color-graded, but if there’s a light source the contrast is lovely. (So is Rupert’s red silk shirt he wears as he defends Zenda against the escape/rescue attempt.) The cabbie gets to call Rupert on his annoying habit, and Rupert grins as if, yes, he knows EXACTLY how much it drives everyone up the wall.

And then Rupert decides to play chaotic evil and switch sides.

YIKE--oh. Black Michael is only pinned to the wall, unharmed, not impaled through the throat. (is it on the viewer or did they really set up those scenes for the letdown/irony of the worst not happening??) Anyway, we have a fight scene that doesn’t hold a candle to a well done sword fight--or even a well done ‘bonk everyone on the head with random objects while other people fight’--and then we have an ending where the prince goes back to his gambling with the count’s wife at his side (poor count--but also, wow does that woman have poor taste) and the cabbie gets to be king and marry Flavia and hey! his horse gets to pull the bridal carriage and the cabbie gets to drive! Happy endings all around!

Or at least, what this movie considers to be happy endings.

[unknownjpegs]

grit

Dust in the air. 

Always dust in the air, Benji thinks, always fuckin’ dust. Hate this pit.

He turns his chin to the side and spits. Out comes dust. Just not all of it. He can feel how the grit sticks in his teeth, scratches at his gums. A small inconvenience out here, where bodies are plucked clear and stark-white by the beasties, where men are shot over near-nothing.

Where Benji does quite a lot of that shooting.

Dust in his eyes, his teeth. Whipping around him. As he stares down one of those poor fucks trapped beneath him.

Cowardly fuckin’ thing. Gone and run, near face-planted in the dirt, when he’d seen Benji after him on the horizon. Shot blind over his shoulder. Nearly nicked Benji’s mare, and that was a bad, bad thing. Mistake, but not the first of his transgressions in the last week.

That, and thinkin’ of his horse getting hurt, riles the anger in him. Like it’s just provoked the feral creature that makes home in his chest. 

Anger, well. He’s got a lot of that these days. Been trying to smother the fire of it with dust, but it keeps just licking higher and higher. Always dust in the air, and yet never enough.

Especially when his patience gets low. It’s low, right now. 

Because the guy below him, the pathetic sonofabitch, is kicking something awful. Trying to buck him off.

Might’ve had him a victory in that, ten years ago. ‘Cuz then, Benji was a weak kid — moveable. Prone to sickness and injury. Small. 

He’s not small no more. And he ain’t been a kid for a decade. Hasn’t felt like one for longer than. 

“Get’the fuck off,” the prick below him hisses. Saliva coming from between his teeth. Dust and grit just like Benji’s. Nobody out here has a clean mouth, if they ain’t got the coin. Sometimes if they do, ‘cuz if there’s one thing filthier than the mouths, it’s the hands. 

Dust in the air, blood on the palms.

Anyway, the dust-saliva lands on Benji’s jacket. Which is a right shame for the fucker, because this jacket was a gift. Expensive one and from one of his favorite people — perhaps only one he got, out here. Benji’s a protective guy. Loyal. He takes just as good care of his jacket. And that routine does not, unfortunately, include gettin’ shined with the spit of white-bellied arse grabber who sports a wispy, thinning hairline. 

“You been fuckin’ with Dr. Sullivan,” Benji says. He sits up from his heels, full weight down on the knee that digs into the man’s chest. Real sensitive spot, right at the apex of his sternum. Bet it hurts something awful, ‘cuz he lets out a good howl. 

“Worse,” he whispers, slipping the revolver from his hip and tucking it under the man’s chin. Fluid motion; Benji’s a big guy, real brutal up close, but he’s also a fast draw. Has to be, the way people seem eager on the trigger with it pointed at Bunny. 

“You been fuckin’ with her pockets. Me n’everybody smart in this town know if there’s one thing you don’t wanna do, it’s fuck with the good doc’s pockets.” Benji thumbs back the hammer, cl-click in his ears. Sometimes, he thinks that noise is prettier than the cactus wrens. Thinks maybe he oughta consider gettin’ evaluated for that. 

“You mustn’t be one of those smart folks.”

“I haven’t —”

Benji shoves the revolver hard up under his chin. Angles the muzzle where it presses a divot into the skin, and then adjusts his fingers on the grip slow. His knuckles ache. Last night, he’d walloped a guy good. No reason other than Bunny asked him to, and he tended to trust her judgment when it came to wankers who needed teeth gone. 

“You have though, haven’t you, mate?” Benji sneers, peering down at the fucker — the liar, now, too — through the strands that dangle from his hat’s brim. “When you’re gone, and I loot ya, am I gonna find loads of Dr. Sullivan’s actual?” The man gulps. “Yeah, s’what I thought. Have a feelin’ I might find more than that.” Benji’s hand is started to shake on the grip, so he takes a big, steadying breath. 

Tastes more dust. Gets madder. 

“Hear you’re a pervert, friend.” He jerks his chin towards the man’s bag, where he’d tossed it several yards away in their scuffle. “Hear your balmy fuckin’ arse has been awful handsy. ‘Specially when you get drunk. Y’know what the big boss hates more in her saloon than liars, thieves, and drunks who ain’t got enough stomach to hold it?” Benji smiles. “She hates a pervert. Loves makin’ ‘em dead.” 

“Wait —”

“So do I, if I’m honest.”

Benji pulls the trigger. Spray of blood kicks up in a misty cloud around his face, disappears on the next gust of wind. Brings fucking dust.

As expected, body’s got cash. Good chunk of it, all from Bunny. All from a job he’d promised to make good on. Idiot shoulda figured he wouldn’t make it too far outta town. And, tucked alongside the stack, is a list of names. Buncha women. Benji notes Miss Rhodes and her daughter amongst ‘em. Couple of the listed individuals aren’t, he knows, much older than fourteen.

Rot, he sneers, and gives the body a solid kick. For Bunny, ‘cuz she’ll hate hearing about this. Would have him raise the man from the dead, were he capable of such things, just to let her drop him herself.

Once he’s done sifting through pockets, Benji pulls the man’s boots off and tucks them under his arm. Good spurs that’ll get him some coin of his own to pocket. He’s saving. 

Benji tilts his head up to the sun. Already climbing high. Warm on his shoulders: means it’s time to get moving. He doesn’t wanna end up baking. Doesn’t wanna, like this dickhead, be plucked clear and stark-white by beasties. 

*

“Busy morning?” Bunny quips when he turns up.

“Mornin’, afternoon, evenin’,” Benji grunts. He slips behind the counter, sidling up close to her and snatching a glass from the clean pile. He gets a towel snap for the trouble, accepts the sting on the back of his hand. Worth it to fill up with something refreshing. 

After he’s polished off a bit of the tap — taste test, he snarks, earns another smack — he leans against the counter. 

“Cheek,” Bunny says. She points at her face, and Benji responds by swiping at his own. “No, you fool fuckin’ — wrong side. Come here.” 

Bunny ain’t often soft. In her nature like chewin’ cud’s for a cougar. He knows it, accepts that he’s as likely to get a swat as he is a begrudging thank you. But she don’t know what he’s gone and done, in the early hours. So there’s nothing to thank, as much as he’d like to hear it. Like the acknowledgment. Shouldn’t look at Bunny like she’s a parent, but he does anyway. Been together, Benji’s homesick enough, for that to be an inevitable.

Except some of that bitterness fades out of him. Because Bunny’s got her own way of doin’ things. Quick and clever and venomous, their local rattlesnake. Ready to last out, need be — and Bunny’s good at finding need. But Bunny’s got an eye for need of all sorts. Think maybe he’s not the only one homesick, or maybe she just sees the need splattered obvious as the blood across his face.

She wipes at his cheek with her sleeve. Ah, been the wrong side, he realizes, when he sees the red stain smeared across the fabric at her wrist.

“Can’t have you looking like a mess in my fine establishment.” 

It’s the softest Bunny is capable of, that. Also a right fuckin’ lie, because it’s not a fine establishment. It’s a shit one. And Beni’s often a mess in it. He’s the poor sod’s gotta drag the saloon-fight, bounty-collected bodies out by the boots on a near nightly basis. 

“There we are.” She pats him on that same cheek. Not quite gentle, but also not her usual sweet disdain.

Kinda ruins the moment when she holds out her hand. Benji sighs. Slips the stack from his jacket to her greedy, waiting palm. 

“Ahh,” Bunny wafts it under her nose, fanning the bills. “You smell that, Benj?”

“Blood,” he mutters, going for another pour. “Dust? Pervert sweat n’piss? 

Bunny winks at him, tucks the stack into her shirt. 

“No, my dear friend. That’s the scent of justice.”

His throat, proper wetted and grit expelled, bobs. 

“Smells like shit.”

[survey--s]

663.

Do a lot of people tell you that you are funny? No, but I make them laugh which is good enough for me.

Have you gone to a tanning bed lately? I've never gone to one in my life.

What did you do on the Fourth of July? Nothing, it's just another day here.

Do you ever watch Hannah Montana? No.

Do you think Miley Cyrus is a good role model? Not really, but then again I don't really think celebrities owe it to anyone to be a good role model - they're just normal people with jobs that put them in the spotlight.

Do you have nice legs? So I've been told.

Are you good at decorating? Ha, no. I don't have the patience for it really, or the coordination.

Have you ever been to Ohio? I've never been to the US.

Do you like southern accents? I actually do. I especially like country singing.

Do you watch Big Brother? I've seen a few episodes here and there.

How old is the oldest person who has ever liked you? About ten years my senior, to my knowledge.

Do you get intimidated easily? It depends on the situation.

Do you get a shower every day? Yeah, I feel really gross if I don't shower.

Do you like mountain biking? I've never really been as an adult but I did like it as a kid.

What is something you like to do for fun? Photography, horse riding.

Do you remember a lot of things from whenever you were a child? Yeah, I can pretty much remember all my childhood.

What was something good that happened to you this week? I got two full weekends off which is pretty miraculous for me, lol.

Have you ever been to Ireland? No.

Do you have a lot of shoes? Yeah, quite a few but they're all boring/practical ones lol.

Would you rather go out to eat or make dinner yourself? It depends on my mood and what the options are, I guess. Eating out seems so expensive lately for what it is.

Do you like The Goonies? I've never watched it.

Would you ever consider being a photographer? I enjoy taking photos but I don't have the knowledge or patience to do it professionally. I'd get bored sitting around waiting for the perfect shot.

What is something that you aren't good at? Algebra.

What is something you really regret? I don't have any regrets.

Do you think you have a lot of friends? No, I don't have many friends at all. But I like it this way. I'm not a very social person. <- same here.

Do you like to answer questions in detail? Some detail, yeah. I don't like ones that are about six questions all mashed into one, though.

Who are the texts in your inbox from? Mike, Suzanne, my mum, Jenn, Andrew, Sam, Tracey, Sharna, Chris and Helen. Oh, and a girl called Chloe wanting dog walks.

What is something you wear everyday? My glasses.

What clothing store do you really like? Fat Face. I just wish I could afford it nowadays, it's SO expensive.

Do you have a lot of chores? I mean, I'm an adult with a house so yeah, by default lol.

[fourseasonscomeandgo]

jennie gf headcanons

clarification: fem!reader

TW: mentions of bug killing (¿, knifes, and harming people with it (????, cursing

she looks so elegant, so chic, so evil

but she speaks to you in baby voice and cries when there's a bug

calls you in crisis when there's an insect so you would kill it

i don't think she's good a flirting when sober

but when she's drunk she becomes a romeo

a clumsy romeo

she was obsessed with you.

she's a scorpio moon, she's kinda psycho

sorry for the astrology moment

you had an idea that she may like you but you kept denying it

because why would jennie kim, jennie ruby jane, like you, a mere mortal?

but then it was your birthday and she gave you a necklace as a gift

and when you saw the other members giggling and blushing and RECORDING the whole thing, it clicked for you

she couldn't give more of a fuck about your appearance, she fell in love with you because you're smart, sensitive, you make her laugh, you're so unique and you're unnecessarily kind and helping towards people

and if she ever felt that you liked her only based on looks, she would probably start losing interest on you

she's not good at trusting people and give them her heart, so she was doubtful at the start with you

you had many fights because you felt you were dating a wall

an emotionless and cold wall

and you wanted her to be open about her feelings with you, cause you can't date an ice cube, y'know?

it took her her sweet time, and your sweet patience

but now she's an emotional disaster with you and you're always there to contain her

she's a jealous freak

she fights it and tries to keep composure

but she would write her name on your forehead with a knife if she could

you're hers and only hers

she's a scaredy cat and you must protect her

she doesn't care if you're just as or even more scared than her, you're her shield

she stalks you on instagram

you accompany her to rich people events

but you girls just make a disaster, feel like outsiders, embarrass yourselves and leave

the moment she got to call herself your girlfriend she forgot anyone else existed, you're her everything

europe dates

you can't believe you're going on europe dates with someone

she loves sleeping with you and waking up to you the most

if she can't have you with her while sleeping, she would hug a teddy bear with your perfume on it

going on tours and overseas schedules with her and the girls

when you started going out with jennie, the rest of the girls intervened you to see what your real intentions were and what kind of girl you are

rosie and lisa cried because they're so happy jennie found someone that loves her and it's good with her

jisoo teared up but someone had to look scary

matching everything, collars, bracelets, clothes, shoes, hats, the carpets in your living rooms are the same and even your couches too

and everything is from the most expensive brands, of course

but don't think you only do high class shit

you love countryside getaways in which you can have picnics in nature and ride horses. also going to artesanal art exhibitions dressed as true homeless people and buying the most useless stuff just cause it's pretty

she lives hanging off your neck, so fucking touchy and clingy, and you love it

your clothes are full of kuma hair

she's a romantic baby, sees you as her disney princess and dreams about having the biggest, most dreamy wedding

she thinks of you as her soulmate

she calls you "baby", you're her baby, jennie's baby, baby this, baby that, "baby come here", "baby go there", "i love you, baby", baby, baby, baby

—O—O—

STREAM BORN PINK, YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

—ica.

[dyns33]

Warming up

Flufftober 13 - Geralt x Reader 

         "If you decide to follow me on the Path, you will have to accept all the consequences, to be prepared to face danger constantly, and if you start complaining, I will kick your ass, get it ?"

Geralt had been very clear.

It was rare that he was so talkative, but when he realized that Jaskier and Y/N had decided to accompany him on the Path whether he wanted it or not, he had preferred to warn them that it would not be an easy trip, that he was not their bodyguard, and therefore that they had to fend for themselves.

Of course, contrary to what people, and even himself sometimes, said, Geralt was not a heartless monster.

If they encountered an enemy, human or creature, he protected them. If they were injured, he treated them. If they were going to do something stupid, he would yell at them to get them out of trouble. Y/N was allowed to ride with him on Roach when she was tired.

Not Jaskier. The bard was too annoying, he had lost the right he might have had to touch the horse the first time they met.

The witcher felt a bit like a father with two rowdy children. Or two overly curious puppies.

It was certainly what Vesemir had felt when he had taken care of him and the others. Geralt had to remember to thank him for his patience the next time he went to Kaer Morhen.

There were still limits to Geralt's kindness.

Everyone had to manage their own stuffs. Money, food, blankets, the little things necessary for survival.

Jaskier was not always well prepared, although he was the one who brought in the most money after Geralt and his contracts. His songs and stories had made him famous all over the country, and thanks to him, they were sometimes entitled to a free meal or night in inns.

But instead of buying himself warm winter clothes, new shoes for walking, or provisions, he often wasted his pennies on unnecessary things, and he prayed on the road that they would stop quickly in a new city.

Y/N was more prudent. Her money, it was Geralt who gave it to her, in exchange for services. Since he didn't like talking to people, and people didn't like talking to him either, he would send her to get orders for him. She took care of his horse. She was cleaning his armour.

With what she earned, she bought everything she could need on the Path, and also gifts for her companions. It was mainly thanks to her that Jaskier had not yet died of hunger or cold.

That evening, her generosity almost caused her harm.

It was terribly cold despite the fire, and when the bard asked if he could take one of her blankets, Y/N couldn't refuse. With his expensive and thick clothes, this is enough for Jaskier to feel a little better, and for him to fall asleep while being a little warmed up.

Not Y/N. Soon she regretted the blanket, starting to shiver, her teeth chattering violently. But she couldn't take it back. And she couldn't ask Geralt for help, that was the rule, or he would get angry.

So she did her best to try not to freeze, getting as close to the fire as possible, puffing into her hands and curling up in her sleeping bag, but it wasn't enough.

At the same time, she had to avoid making too much noise to not wake Jaskier up or annoy Geralt who was meditating at the entrance to the cave.

But it was useless, since with his mutations, the witcher heard everything.

After a few minutes, she heard him sigh and get up. He was going to come and ask her to stop fidgeting, that was for sure.

Instead, without saying anything, he took her in his arms, pulling her away from the fire, leading her towards the exit. It was worse than she had imagined.

           "... I won't make any more noise. Sorry. Don't kick me out." she sobbed as she clung to him. "

           "Calm down."

           "I'm going to freeze to death outside."

           "Shut up."

Geralt went back to his place, keeping her close, wrapping his blanket around her, and massaging her back. He rested his head on hers so that he could continue to observe the surroundings.

It was nice. His body was very hot. Instinctively, Y/N snuggled closer to him, which made him smile.

           "Making yourself comfy ?"

           "... Sorry."

           "Hmm. That wasn't a complaint... sorry for the smell."

           "It's okay. Thanks Geralt. It's... Thanks."

           "Sleep now."

It was not easy with the sounds of the forest, but knowing that he was protected by Geralt, who gently stroked her neck, Y/N ended up falling asleep. She wanted to sleep like this all the time.

Geralt wanted that too. It reminded him of his childhood, when with the other apprentices they all slept together, for reassurance and comfort. But it was not the same with her. It was something else.

The following nights, whether it was cold or not, whether she had enough blankets or not, whether they were outside or in a bedroom, they eventually got into the habit of sleeping together. First Geralt came to get her to bring her back to his bed, then Y/N went to join him without him needing to speak.

Jaskier once tried to slip between them, but the witcher kicked him in the stomach, throwing an extra blanket in his face, and he didn't try again.

[julietas-basil]

Hi! I’m kinda new in Julieta fandom here in Tumblr. I do rad fics in Ao3 though. I don’t have specific idea in mind, but would you do an Alma-Julieta fic? Maybe a Mother’s Day Special? 😅 Thank you so much 😘

I thank you dear friend for requesting this!

Since our bud Jared Bush confirmed Julieta was a caretaker from her earlier years of life I'd like to take on that !

Happy Mother's Day to all the mommies,aunts,grandmother's and our favorite friends or other women who contribute to the world's well being ♡☺

notes; there will be a small angst for the start I hope you'll enjoy it overall!💖

It has been a long time since Pedro's murder. The scene,every single detail;the surroundings,the gallops of the horses nearing closer to people,whose feet digged into the muddy ground-as a way to escape from the hostile intruders-the villagers screams of fear and agony,filling her ears every night. Then the tranquility in Pedro's face,easing her sleep,until his features form into pure sorrow.

She remembers frankly the moment she dreaded even before they fled their sweet home; There was a not in her throat,a burning in her chest,tears that threatened to spill down her warm cheeks,when she saw Pedro-her lovely Pedro- giving a peck to their newly-born triplets (wrapped up in the warmest of blankets). The last kiss was a confirmation to her living nightmares. He whispered 'I love you' a short meaningful sentence that could forever be etched on her mind. That was it he left,stepping onto the cold water,in defense of his people in the expense of his life. She kneeled when the one of the military man pressed the sword in his body. She knelt,her babies on her chest,ugly tears and an unfaidable memory crossed on her brain. In the end there was pure Light...

-"¡Mamá,por favor! Are okay?"

A little Julieta was standing next to Alma's sleeping form on the bed. One hand on her mother's hair stroking lightly and her other small hand gently shaking her shoulder,enough pressure to wake her up. Alma's body tensed up,the reality of nightmare had undeniably kicked in;she was sweating and traces of tears had soaked on her cheeks. She massaged her forehead a bit,her eyes wandering to find Julieta's big,sparkly eyes looking worriedly over her mother's upset ones...

-"¡Ay,mi Amor Lo siento! I didn't want to scare you mija...come to mamá"

Alma motioned for her daughter to join her in a hug.Julieta flashed a genuine smile,a gentle frown on her face. The little girl fell into her mother's arms right away,appreciating the affection.

-"Mamà...I brought you breakfast!"

Little Julieta exclaimed happily,a giggle giving away her excitement. The eldest of triplets had finally managed to learn a new recipe (Alma had thankfully a lot of patience thank God for that!). She brought the plate to her Mamà;Two small buñuelos,mixed eggs with vegetables and potatoes and chopped avocado

-"I made you some orange juice too! Vitamin C is very essential in the morning!"

6 year old Julieta lifted a finger to define her expertise. Alma laughed admiring her little doctor and how much seriously she takes the responsibility of her gift. Then the older woman watched her daughter in adoration prepare the disk and place it qith slight difficulty over Alma's knees

-"¡Cuidado Mija!"

-"it's okay Mamà I got it !"

Despite,Alma's fear of Julieta dropping everything upside down,she trusted her daughter and the way she was becoming a young responsible,not to mention independent woman, it was one of the cutest sights she had ever seen!

-"¡Feliz Día De Las Madres,Mamá!"

Her older mija pulled out a small bucket of flowers she picked from their garden; acolombian rose,a "flor de mayo",a couple of chamomiles and lavender -all wrapped up in a yellow silk ribbon- the beautiful scent of flowers filling the mother nostrils

Alma grinned enthusiastically at her daughter and two rays of teardrops made their way down her apples. She wrapped her pequeña niña up in a tight hug kissing her curly locks

"¡Gracias,mi Linda ! Ay Dios mio,te adoro desde el fondo de mi corazón..."

[greypetrel]

13 for aisling and radha for the codex asks :3

Hullo! :3 Thank you so much for asking!

Tis the prompt list

13. something written about your OC in the two years between defeating Corypheus and the beginning of Trespasser

Radha:

*a report sent to Skyhold from the Free Marches. It was encrypted, but after Charter translates it back from the code, it reads like this:*

My Lady Inquisitor,

I wouldn't dare to bother you, but I think you may have wanted to know this with the utmost importance.

We had been visited by an elf, I couldn't say whether Dalish or not. Her face doesn't bear any markings, even if she dressed in Dalish fashion and is keen on lore. She showed up and presented some documents signed by you.

I do not know what to think of it: she started requestiong funds and provisions to enter the Temple you discover some years ago. She asked for men to patrol its borders, and insisted quite a lot when we told her no. The place is haunted, your Worship, the men don't want to stay there more than the strict necessary, but the elf insisted.

She had a paper telling us she acted in your name, and so we had no chance but to obey. I now doubt she was really associated with you. She stayed three days in the Temple, and then greeted us and disappeared, as abruptly as she had come, and told us to keep patrolling the building.

No one has any idea what she did all that time alone in the ruins, but I doubt you would want to take men away from the garrison to guard an empty elven ruin: I suspect a thief and some clever forgery, and as instructed, wrote to tell you back.

I'm not risking my men like so before having a word from you directly.

With respect, Lieutenant Orwell

Aisling:

*a note, written in an elegant cursive, a droplet of dried wax in a corner*

Aisling, These are the letters I received from the Comte in Sylbois regarding our last intrusion to bring supplies directly to the villages. Please read them and help me find an answer. I know it was effective and we cut time and losses and the people are happier… But I can only do this much damage control, and we need the nobility, as much as you don’t like it. Please. Josie

*another note follows, it smells like horse and the cursive is slanted and rushed, letters very similar together. A classic doctor calligraphy, hard to read for a person who isn’t used to it.*

Josie, I am sorry I’m making this complicated for you. But the drought and the war left those villagers with little to no food. I wrote him and send the letter when the supplies left, notifying him of what was going on, apologizing and included a . If his memory is so short that he can forget about it, it’s not my fault. The money is listed in my personal expenses as proof. I know we need the aristocracy, but not at the cost of sacrificing people if he can’t do his job. Sorry, I slept little this night, I shouldn’t be so brisk. I’ll answer him myself, ask Charter to help me and form a letter that will prevent further complaints. As much as I hate the Game, it’s useful in these situations. Tea later? The cook baked beignets. A hug, Aisling

*a third note, in the same handwriting of the first one*

Aisling, I know the situation is dire… But please, next time can I ask you to tell the couriers to wait for the Comte’s permission before entering the town? Ask Charter for those secrets beforehand, relying on their good hearts and fixing it afterward may be worse. Use the Game to your advantage, sooner rather than later. It’s nice that after years, you’re still making these mistakes. In the nicest possible way. Tea and beignets sounds fantastic, honestly, this treaty with Orzammar is really drying my patience up and I need something sweet. Can we correct the tea with some of that Dalish brew you brought from Wycome? I may even forgive you for making me work overtime with De Fourier. :) Josie

*a fourth note, in the ugly calligraphy. There’s a doodle of an animal, but it’s difficult to distinguish which animal is it. It’s roundish, it has a tail, and ears, and a big smile under a triangular nose.*

Josie, The Game is stupid. A lot of circumvoluted things to get to the same end result. Bah. Can I ask you to proof-read my letter? I am afraid I wrote something wrong. It’s brief, I swear, I’ll also bring you some extra candies for your troubles. And the grappa, of course, now I needed it too. Your office or my room? A.

*Another note, in an elegant calligraphy.*

A. Of course I’ll re-read it! I’m here for that. What a cute kitten, it’s really lovely! Your room, if I stay here I’ll never stop. An hour from now is good? J.

*The last but one note has another doodle. The Inquisitor’s own head, a circle, with triangular ears, line hair and a sad expression, with tears.*

J. An hour is perfect. And you don’t have to read that letter if you don’t want to! It’s also my job to write it, I’m fine. And that’s a dormouse. :( A.

*The last note has a doodle too. It's done better, it's stylized, but you can see it's a pair of dormouses curled together and smiling.*

A. I do want to proof-read that letter, I wouldn't have said I would otherwise. Really, it's no bother! I'm sorry! I was too distracted, now that you mention it you're right, it's clearly a dormouse. Dormouses are so cute, aren't they? Can we take a nap like them after the tea? J.

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @adowbaldwin @profoundme444 @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont

Part Twenty-One

Summary: Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to irritate him every other century.

Also on Ao3

Baldwin glanced quickly around the room and felt his heart sink into his boots. When the small child had approached him at the harbour as the ship finished docking that morning, clutching a neatly-folded invitation to the alcázar in the heart of Qādis, a part of him had still been clinging to the hope that Hugh- and Fernando, and Matthew- would be waiting there for him.

Godfrey gently nudged him to the side so he could get in as well; Phillipe was in front of them both, and already inclining his head towards an impassive Merula. Her husband and wife were lounging on a pile of pillows behind her, and Martin was sitting beside them, drinking from a glass goblet.

'A gift for you' Phillipe removed two illuminated manuscripts from beneath his cloak and handed them to Merula. She took it with a graceful nod, and handed one to her husband, and the other to her wife, to examine.

'Archimedes' On Floating Bodies' Philippe smiled as Shadrach made an appreciative noise.

'You know my husband's work'

'And the good it does the city' Philippe reached into his cloak again and removed a carved wooden box. He opened it.

'Spices, from your home'

'Jerusalem is far from here, I thank you for your thoughtfulness' Merula passed the spices to an excited Ishtar, who began carefully examining each vial and pouch while Martin leaned over her shoulder.

'My brother is here to drink wine and look pretty. You are here to negotiate with me.'

'Of course' Philippe sat down where Merula gestured for him to do so, his sons following suit.

'I understand you have been following behind Martin for some time.'

They had found Godfrey in an inn outside of Lyon. He had been clear on his brother's movements up to a few days before, and when Philippe pressed him for their final destination he just gave a baffled shake of his head.

Magic was clearly involved.

Philippe was incensed by this point. He ordered them to turn the horses round, and they were going back to Beaune to have a talk with Martin when suddenly an out-of-breath milliner- one of Philippe's spies- approached and told them that Martin had left home weeks ago and was headed for Qādis to visit his sister.

‘We pressed on to the port at Marseille, and now we are here’ Philippe finished. ‘We thought-’

Merula was already shaking her head.

‘My brother had been planning this visit for some time. I am afraid his leaving right after your seeing him was a complete accident.’

Baldwin winced. He could feel the last thread of Philippe's patience snapping.

You mean our brothers are not in the city?' Godfrey flinched at a sudden thought.

'They may not even be in this country?!'

Baldwin let his weariness seep into his expression. His shoulders slumped, and he gazed across at Martin.

'Where is my brother?'

'...Córdoba'

'Thank you'

________________________________________________________________

In exchange for not beating the ever-loving hell out of her brother, Merula forced Martin to pay all expenses for their voyage to Córdoba, as well as accompanying them to help keep a lookout for any trouble.

They weren't expecting any trouble, but it paid to be cautious. After the Muslims marched across the Strait of Gibraltar, the Ummayyad Caliphate rose from the ashes of the Visigothic Kingdom. Under emir Abd al-Rahmān III, then his son Al-Hakam II, Córdoba had become a hub of scholarly pursuit, and international trade.

Although the majority of the population followed Sunni Islam, there was still a significant minority of Christians and Jews in the country. They were treated well, despite legally being second-class citizens, and could even obtain positions of power within the aristocracy, and even the royal court, if they were lucky enough.

Baldwin's respect for Martin grew a little as they headed north. He was by far the best rider out of his brothers, but Martin had been mucking around on horseback longer than he had and his skill was obvious. He was also better at setting snares, having a near-instinctive sense of where to set them to catch rabbits.

At night he and Godfrey debated the sciences; Martin's understanding was a little better than Baldwin's, but neither of them had the technical grasp that Godfrey had. Even Philippe sometimes had trouble keeping up with his son's enthusiastic explanations of the discoveries that were currently circulating the scientific community.

'I should introduce you to Miriam when we reach Ḥimṣ al-Andalus' Martin said, stoking the campfire. They were set up a few metres from the road, hidden by a thicket, watching stars blink in the inky black night sky.

'I believe that you two would get along quite well'

'Mmm?' Godfrey took a swig from his wineskin.

'An alchemist and a philosopher. Zosimos mentioned her in his works, but I believe he misnamed her "Mary"'

Baldwin reared back in disgust as Godfrey spraid wine across his brother's tunic.

'Look out!'

'So-wheeze-sorry' Godfrey choked out an apology around a hacking cough as the rest of the wine slid down the wrong way.

When he could breathe properly again, he turned to Martin.

'Mary the Jewess?! She is one of us??!'

Martin nodded. Next to them, muttering darkly to himself under his breath, Baldwin peeled off his sodden tunic, crumpled it up, and started mopping the wine off his chest.

'She has a laboratory close to the industrial district'

'I shall have to leave this to soak overnight' Baldwin interjected, waving his wet shirt at his brother, 'And I have none spare!'

Martin rolled his eyes and threw his own dry, second tunic at Baldwin's head.

Author’s Notes

Alcázar - a type of Islamic castle or palace in the Iberian Peninsula built during Muslim rule between the 8th and 15th centuries.

Qādis - Cádiz, Spain. It is one of the oldest continuously-inhabited city in Europe.

Archimedes' On Floating Bodies is the first known work on hydrostatics, a branch of fluid mechanics that focusses on the conditions at which fluids are at rest, as opposed to when they are in motion. Written circa 250BC, it survives partially in Greek, and partially in a Medieval Latin translation of the original Greek text.

The Ummayyad Caliphate was one of four major caliphates founded after the death of Muhammed. It was one of the largest empires in history, in terms of land area, and was estimated to contain about 30% of the world’s population during its peak.

Let me be clear, Jews and Christians were treated relatively well at the time this chapter is set. Clashes between Christian, Jewish and Islamic forces happened infrequently over the course of the Ummayyad Caliphate, with religious tolerance rising and falling depending on the current ruler.

Ḥimṣ al-Andalus - Seville

I don't know which member/s of the fandom put forward the idea that Miriam is Mary the Jewess, but I have taken on board that headcanon so thank you!

Zosimos of Panopolis wrote the oldest known books on alchemy, which he called "Cheirokmeta," using the Greek word for "things made by hand." Translations of partial fragmented bits of his works survive today, and he is the primary source for information on Mary the Jewess.

Mary, or Maria, the Jewess, also Mary the Prophetess or Maria the Copt, is considered to be the first true alchemist of the Western world. She is credited with inventing the tribikos, the kerotakis, and the bain-marie, although this is highly debated.

Oh, Martin noticed. 😆

[giorno-plays-piano]

I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️

Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!

Oh, my love, don't forsake me

Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.

Words: 1670.

___________________

You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.

It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.

"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."

"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."

You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.

"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"

She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?

"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."

Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.

Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.

“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”

However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?

Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?

“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.

“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”

“Courting me?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”

Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.

“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.

For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?

The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”

Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.

“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.

Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!

“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”

“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.

She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?

Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”

_____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.