#she’s gonna try making weaponed musical instruments too

[littleblondesoprano]

Brain just made the cutest god damn DnD character of a lil halfling bard that is also an incessant tinkerer/incidental inventor (less Gipetto/Maurice and more Mad Scientist) and perfectionist. She plays the lute and wants to try and make an amp for it.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Old dog

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Daryl is never been watched with such interest before, and it grabs his attention. But he feels like he got his order of actions wrong..

The Kingdom was a strange place.

First there was the King, with his pet tiger.

The King spoke in a strange manner, and his ever so friendly right hand too.

The Queen was a kind woman, she had shown you around and given you a roof over your head after you wandered into her lands.

The Kingdom had guards on horseback, and all its residents referred to their leader as the King.

Like a true old age Kingdom.

It was near summer when you arrived and took some time to get settled, now having your routine all worked out and were a happy new addition to the bakery.

While it meant crazy early mornings, it brought many people a good start of their day. You made your delivery rounds as the first people got up to tend to the gardens before the sun got too hot, passing then with a kind smile and a good morning wish on your way to the school building where you'd make your last delivery of the day.

You continued your daily tasks back at the bakery when a returning resident came by.

Each day he'd come by to pick up the same order, so by now it was standard to have it ready by a certain time.

Like clockwork he showed up, the gorgeous older man with his grey streaked hair that framed his bearded face oh so perfect.

You always wondered about the scar that sat around one of his sea blue eyes, but you never found the courage to ask.

You only knew his first name because the baker mentioned it once.

Daryl.

With rough, scarred hands he accepted the packaged food but remained in his spot.

"M'sorry, ya don't happen ta have sun leftovers, do ya? 'M headin' out fer a couple days 'n could use some extras." A little stunned by the sudden change in routine had you stammer a response neither of you could make out before you disappeared further into the back.

To your luck a fresh batch was just taken out of the oven, so you quickly grabbed a few buns and put them in a tea towel before moving back to the front.

"Here you go, fresh out of the oven." You smiled nervously as you held out the makeshift pouch, almost freezing as the calloused pads of his fingers brushed your skin while taking the bread from you.

With a charming as ever thanks he made his way out the door.

After the third time preparing the order for Daryl, who wasn't in town to come pick it up you were told to go take a day or two off, relax and go try and catch him come back home later during the day.

On your delivery routes and walks around the community you had caught wind of some kind of guard dog. You'd pick it up from time to time but today had been much more frequent.

You wondered what they meant. Maybe you'd ask Carol about it later.

The Kingdom was a nice place.

Each day there would be someone in the community's centre, playing some kind of instruments. Alone or in a group, it varied, but it was always nice to enjoy when you could.

You were enjoying it for so long you barely noticed the sun starting to set and Carol finding you. "Couldn't catch you at the bakery today, was told you were given the day off."

She came to sit beside you, enjoying the music and sharing a small snack she brought with you.

After a short while she got up, turning to you and offering a hand. "Come, we're gonna see something. If I have to believe the baker's words you're gonna love it."

Carol's words confused you, the thought of the baker casually talking about you with her wasn't really a happy one. Yet you followed her every step as she made her way to the front gates of the Kingdom.

"We're heading out? Without weapons or gear?" There was nothing around for you to see, confusion rising even more and edging on annoyance. Why wouldn't she just way where you were going?

You stood and watched as as she bounced on her heels with her arms behind her back. She was being all giddy about something and your mind could not come up with what on earth it could be.

Option after option ran through your mind until the guards spoke and the gates started to open.

Carol passed you a smile and raised her brows as she nudged her head towards the gate before turning back to watch.

You took a step closer to see what she was on about, and within the reach of your first step a figure came into view between the large gate doors.

"Holy shit." You stood frozen, much like those few days ago when Daryl suddenly asked for additions to his bakery order.

Despite the distance between the two of you and the low volume of your words, it looked like he heard you and gave you a smile and a small wave.

The scene before you became crazier by the second, on his shoulders a large deer that he carried without any visible strain but that wasn't all. Tied to his waist with a thick belt he lugged a tarp stacked with different hunted animals.

But something else felt off, beside the show of inhuman strength he seemed to possess.

Out from underneath his hair poked an ear, like it did sometimes before as well, although they seemed.. pointed?

His smile as well. You had seen the stubby pointed canines he had, but there were loads of people who had those slightly longer than average. Why did they look bigger now, accompanied with a similar set on his bottom teeth that surely weren't there before.

Also, was he fuzzier than normal? It was all hard to see in the dim light. It could just have been dirt stuck on his skin from being out in the woods so long. Surely he didn't bother cleaning up out there.

All the while Daryl dragged his game inside and stopped to report to Carol, glancing your way every so often as he could feel the energy radiating off you. He was enjoying the way you stared at him with confusion that slowly morphed into something he almost wanted to categorize as adoration.

It wasn't often Daryl got that look from anyone, so to say he was suddenly more intrigued by the baker woman was an understatement.

"Hey," Daryl's voice pulled you from your thoughts, staring at him without a single word running through your mind. "Wanna help unload all'a this at the butcher?"

A silent nod was all you managed as you followed him, hearing Carol say something but not entirely registering her words.

It was the next day when you saw him outside of his usual routine yet again, before the time of his usual pickup. The early summer sun was up when you made your rounds, and so was Daryl.

Across the street from the butcher’s place was a small area that used to be a children’s playground where you caught him doing pull-ups, flannel hanging open over his torso that you secretly expected to be way more toned, but instead you saw lightly furred soft flesh.

He hadn’t noticed you as you moved past to the butcher’s doorstep where you’d leave her order, quietly mumbling to yourself as you stared at Daryl again. “Lords, I want that man to fold me like a lawn chair..” You were so lost in the view of him pulling up his full weight with just one arm, his legs crossed under him, that you didn’t hear the butcher arrive until she pat you on the shoulder. “I may not be into men, but even I can see the appeal of that old dog bending me over the nearest surface.”

The sudden contact made you squeak and jump away, only to be laughed at as you stumbled over your words before running along on your delivery route.

It was only a couple of seconds after you were out of earshot that Daryl appeared on the butcher's steps, shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at the interaction he heard all too well just a moment ago. "Yer horrible, ya know tha'?" He bumped her shoulder aa he walked past her, into the shop to start working on all the kills he brought back the day before.

The butcher let out a breath through her nose. "And you love me for it, mutt." Behind her she closed the door and flipped off the hunter, sticking out her tongue behind his back. "'Course I love ya, ya crazy knife wieldin' hag."

The rest of the day after running off at the butcher went fairly normal, Daryl picked up his order and you cleaned the place alone with the baker having to leave early for a meeting.

It was only when you closed up shop for the day that it got weird. Daryl stood outside, seemingly waiting with his arms crossed under short sleeves so tight you wondered how they hadn't cut off circulation yet.

Without missing a beat he pushed himself off the wall and stepped beside you. "C'mon. Wanna show ya som'n." His gruff voice could tell you to eat dirt and you'd do it so naturally you followed suit, walking around the community until you reached the homes placed at the far end, right at the forest wall.

You took in the beat up old truck with the hood popped and one wheel missing, and next to it inside the garage with the missing door a bike that looked like it was made over years of collecting parts. Was this his home?

You followed him inside the garage, the door in the back opening and leading into a small kitchen littered with tools and materials. The tea towel you gave him the bread in laid neatly folded on the corner of the messy table, not a single grease or oil covered item near it.

In the moment of distraction Daryl's hand landed on your hip as he scooted past you in the narrow space between the counter and the table, his crotch brushing your ass in the process.

He felt you become rigid at his touch and apologized. "Sorry, doll. Place ain't made fer two."

His hand remained in its place, squeezing as he apoligized making you want to just give in to your haunting daydreams and let him take you right then and there.

"So, what did you wanna show me again?" You were fidgeting, trying to calm your nerves with Daryl so close.

"S' upstairs. Sum ol' items ya can dig through. See if ya wan' sum." With a hand placed on your hip he led you upstairs, steering you around the corner and through one of the doors, ending with your knees pressed against a bed.

Before you had a chance to ask anything one of Daryl's hands came around your front, resting on your lower belly as the other one snuck around your chest. "How 'bout ya be a good girl fer me an' lemme fold ya like a lawn chair." His beard drug across your skin as he came to bite your earlobe. "Tha's what ya want, righ'? Got all hot 'n bothered when the butcher mentioned me bendin 'er over the counter.." with one hand sneaking under your waistband and the other softly squeezing your breast he had you whimpering.

"S'fine, righ'?" His hands stilled at your silence. "Words, doll. Ain' gon do anythin' unless ya give me an okay." His hands moved to cafefully turn you around to look you in the eye, but you quickly buried your face in his chest, hands against him as well and all your body wanted was to squeeze.

Squeeze your fingers into his plump, soft chest. Squeeze your thighs together for some desparately needed friction.

You softly nodded, murmuring something Daryl couldn't make out.

"Need ta hear ya." Daryl softly caressed your shoulder, moving to tilt your head up so you'd look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, soft and gentle. Eyes glistening a bright blue between the thick, red scarred line that cut right through an eyebrow. Your eyes wandered to his lips, partially hidden by the grey scruff that occupied the lower half of his face as you breathed. "I want this."

With your eyes on his lips you saw his concerned look change into a wicked grin that showed his pointed canines.

In a split second after that you were thrown onto the bed and caged between Daryl's limbs, his face buried in your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

"Go on." He whispered. "Take 'em off. I know ya wan' it." Daryl was on his way to the hem of your shirt already as you slowly worked your hands towards the buttons of of his flannel, undoing them with trembling fingers, focus drifting away with every drag of his teeth across your flesh.

With some assistance your top halves were soon bare. Daryl's hands on your soft chest, tongue all over them as he sucked bruises to the underside.

Your fingers found his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure as the others traced every scar on Daryl's body. From the small puncture wounds to the large gashes on his back, you caressed each one of them.

Letting out short, panted breaths your body burned wherever Daryl's fingers trailed, the rough pads leaving a path of tingling flesh from your chest down to your side, his tongue following down your body between where his hands had gone.

With the descent of his body his scarred frame moved out of reach, placing both hands in his hair and tugging as his teeth dug into your skin, earning a growl that sounded from deep in his chest.

With newfound interest you pulled again, your nails scratching his scalp in the process as your hips rolled up against his torso.

The low, scratchy moan that left him rumbled against your hip and had him quickly slide his hands down your hips. With no effort you felt your hips rise as two strong hands grabbed your ass and fabric slide off your body. Both your loose trousers and panties were shoved down the rounds of your hips as they lifted off the bed, the fabric pulled off your legs before your knees ended on both sides of your chest and Daryl's teeth were back just below your bellybutton where the meat of your folded torso met in perfect, bite-sized rolls.

You watched him litter your stomach in marks, clamping his jaw onto your thighs to color your skin in where only he could admire them.

"Daryl, please.."

Your voice had him lock eyes with you from where he sat between your legs and watched your pleading gaze with a soft nod before leaning back down and licking a broad stripe over the back of your thigh, moving to delve his tongue right into your centre.

Your moans of his name added fuel to the already raging fire, parting your lips with his tongue and drinking up all of your sweetness. With each stroke against your clit your walls clenched around nothing, muscles tensing but your body laying unmoved under Daryl's strong grip.

You squirm, hands finding his on your thighs as you whine and mewl, signaling you being close to finishing.

"Such pretty sounds, all fer me.." Daryl speaks against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more and teasing you, making you hold back your own thigh so his fingers could join his mouth, stuffing two down your entrance with ease as he kept licking and sucking in tandem with the curls of his digits.

Your sounds increase in volume with Daryl's ministrations, crying out at your peak, clenching your walls tightly around his fingers as you finished.

"'Ere, lemme stretch those legs fer ya." With gentle hands he laid your legs flat against the bed on either side of him, allowing the blood flow to return while you came down from your high.

You watched him with hazy eyes, on his knees between your legs tugging at the button and zipper of his black jeans. Beneath the oh so inviting trail of dark hair he lowered the layers still on him to reveal his thick, hard cock.

Your view was close to perfection, a gorgeous old man between your spread legs. The lines of his body like rings on a tree, showing signs of age and survival. From the scar at his collarbone, at the edge of the soft dusting of chest hair down to his thick strong legs he was removing his clothes from he was like a piece of art for you to admire as you desired.

And gods, you desired him.

"Ya look like ya wanna eat me alive." He looked down at you, one hand running through his hair while the other slowly stroked his cock.

You licking your lips as you stared at his impressive length was all he needed to ler himself fall forward and catch himself right before he'd make contact with you, calmly catching your lips in a deep kiss. With your tongue against his lips you asked for more and he obliged almost immediately, parting his lips and swiping his tongue against yours, lips moulding together in percect harmony until you desperately needed air.

Your hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb caressing the scar around his eye.

"What's the story on this one?" Daryl couldn't get enough of that look on your face. The one filled with curiosity, not a speck of fear or disgust on you.

"Old girlfrien' decided she didn' like me no more." He averted your gaze as he remembered the fight in the cabin back then, and the serrated edge of the knife catching the skin of his face. He deliberately left out the terms his then lover called him as she chased him out the door with a shotgun. That was a tale for another time.

Right now all he wanted was to ravish the woman underneath him.

The setting sun caught his eyes and for a fraction of a second they seemed to glow, icy blue in a sea of black. When they looked back at you it was gone, a pair of normal blue eyes looking at you.

He shook off the memories and brought his focus back to the now, to you underneath him, the scent of your arousal, and his painfully hard cock.

Daryl adjusted his position, his length rubbing your folds in the process earning a soft moan from you.

"Gonna make more o'them pretty noises fer me, doll?" His hand reached for his member and rubbed the tip between your folds, spreading your wetness around, listening to your soft mutters of "yes" and "please".

Daryl needed no more convincing, nuzzling your noses together before kissing you deeply as he slowly inches himself inside of you. The initial stretch hurt and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss at how big he was. His cock was way girthier than just two fingers, and it had been years since your last time before this.

Daryl's hand moved down your body, slowly rubbing your clit to distract from the stretch. His kisses deepened, your tongue sliding past his teeth, feeling around his fangs with fascination.

A soft whimper sounded from you as he bottomed out, making him halt a moment to let you adjust. "Ya tell me when yer good, 'kay?"

You nodded and answered a soft "uhuh." and a bit later, after a few experimental squeezes you told him you were good.

With his hand still on your hip Daryl carefully pulled back and slid inside at a slow and steady pace, letting you get used to him for a few thrusts until your heels came up to dig in his rear.

"Hmhm, eager are we?" Daryl grinned against your neck, taking the hint and quickening his pace. His hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, his hips snapping against yours earning soft gasps on each impact.

"H.. hah.. ah Daryl fuck--" you were a beautiful piece beneath him, with your head thrown to the side, arm covering your eyes and chest heaving and shaking with each thrust.

"So good, doll. So pretty for me." Daryl was huffing out a laugh, moving his hands off your hips to grab at your lower legs. Deep, short thrusts continued as he moved your legs from around him back to up beside your torso, knees pressed against your shoulders as he fucked into you with your ass up off the matress.

He was so deep all of a sudden it had you see stars, crying out his name aa your orgasm crashed down on you.

You were sweating all over, breaths deep to get enough air and body heavy. With your eyes closed you laid still, getting the air back into your lungs as Daryl teased you by softly rutting into your overly sensitive cunt.

"Don' tell me yer tired already, I haven't even finished yet.." His thrusts changed angles and now brushed your clit, having you mewl out pleas he chose to ignore. "Tha's more like it, music, those sounds o' yers." His thrusts continued, as did your pleas. You didn't even know what you were begging for but the knot in your belly was quickly returning in time with his thrusts getting sloppier, not long after crying out again as you came a few thrusts before je did too.

There were tears rolling down your face, laying limp on the bed. Daryl's hands had let go of your legs again, letting you stretch them for thr short moment before he was fully hard again.

Unexpectedly Daryl flipped you onto your stomach and moving your hips around to his preference.

"Time fer round two?" He wached you nod wit your face in the pillows, moving to slowly press inside you once more and bending down to press soft kisses to your back. Your mind went back to being hazy a few thrusts in with how good his cock felt at this new angle fist gripping at the pillows beneath you that muffled your moans.

His hands were all over your backside, kneading every soft surface he could reach as he continued his steady pace.

Your sounds were like music to his ears, wishing to hear them every night, over and over again until your throat was so soar he had to bring you medicine and nurse you back to health. Your curiosity was already enough to make him want you, never having anyone radiate such a type of energy towards him and it has him hooked. But having you here like this now had him almost addicted, wanting to keep you, claim you but he knew he didn't have the right to do so. He didn't deserve it, for he was sort of still lying to you about large aspects of his life.

But if he could make you feel this good now in this moment, that was all he cared about.

He fucked you from behind until you came once, twice and then moved you onto your side, holding onto one of your legs against his chest as je continued rutting into you, earning two more orgasms from you right before finishing himself for the second time.

As he came down from his high he stared at you, passed out and asleep beneath him. Ever so carefully he moved you so he could lay down as well, pulling you against his chest as he settled to drift off too.

It was morning by the time you woke up, groaning in pain as your legs resisted being moved off the bed. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and shot up off the bed. "Ah, god damn oww.." Your ass hit the matress again, the crunchy layer of dried fluids scratching your thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake I'm gonna be late!" You stumbled around the place searching for the shower to scrub yourself clean, picking up your shirt off the floor and sniffing it. "Nope, can't wear that. Shit!" You found the bathroom and were vigorously scrubbing your legs and quickly back to digging through all of Daryl's drawers in a panic, trying to find something decent to wear.

"Ya know ya can just ask, right?" You didn't even register what he said and grumbled back at him. "I don't have time, okay? I'm already gonna be late for work and I got nothing to wear because my own clothes stink so I'm gonna have to run home first and be even later."

Face down in a drawer your attention was pulled by a short whistle, and the second you were up and turned towards the noise an entire outfit found your face.

Underwear, socks, simple sweats and a flanel.

"Why do you have a stash of women's clothes?" You were genuinely curious but that didn't stop you from struggling to put on the clothes with your entire body aching. "I don't even know how I'm gonna walk my rounds. Everything hurts.."

You were already dreading today and it had barely even started.

"Need me ta make yer rounds? Got time so I don' mind." Daryl was following you down the stairs now, hands ready to catch you as you stumbled, not wanting you to fall.down the stairs on your wobbly legs.

"No way I'm letting you do my rounds. I don't want the whole community on my neck tomorrow about why I sent you." You were halfway out the door already, walking as fast as possible and waving Daryl off on your not so fast way to work.

You arrived late and got told off for it, but the baker quickly changed his demeanor once he saw you limp. He gave you a quick rundown of what he had planned to do at the bakery and let you stay in as he took over your rounds, which you were very thankful for.

The front door bell rang and Carol appeared, a while after Daryl had dropped by for his usual, and bringing in a bag with your clothes.

"Hey, didn't see you this morning." Carol was as cheery as ever, her hair braided and her smile kind and motherly.

"Yeah," you leaned against the counter, wincing as you moved your weight. "Hurt my leg yesterday, so I'm in here thr whole day now." You tried to shrug it off, not feeling like coming up with a decent enough lie. Not that you needed one anyways.

"Which clearly has nothing to do with you spending the night at Daryl's place?" A knowing smile spread on her face as she looked you up and down, arms crossed over her chest, laughing as she watched your eyes about to pop out of your head in response. "You're wearing my emergency clothes. Looks like we have about the same size."

You felt blessed with today being a quiet day and could clean while you chatted with Carol and closed up shop after, with the baker off again while you ran the bakery.

"There's something wrong with that man." You sighed as you bent down to lock up the garage door, groaning as you came back up. "He's like, what? Almost sixty? And he still held out longer than me. I swear I passed out once before he was done."

Carol was giggling all the way with your bags in her hand. "He's fifty-four, but alright."

"Yeah, okay. That fifty-four year old would have kept going if I hadn't clocked out after lord knows how ma--"

"Five, doll." Daryl's voice suddenly behind you had you jump up and almost fall if it wasn't for his quick response to steady you.

"How the hell are you fine?" Your question was directed at Daryl, but your eyes were on Carol who was having the time of her life seeing you be so confused about her best friend's energy levels.

"There's a lot about Daryl you don't know yet, dear." She winked at her friend, who only grunted in response.

"Oh really? When are you planning on telling me all about yourself? Do I need to cook you a romantic dinner?" Your words came out with way too much excitement, letting out how eager you were to learn about Daryl.

"Ya'll learn eventually. No need ta rush things, righ'?" His voice kept cool, but Carol read his body language like a book and quickly saw he needed help to cross that line. Him scratching the side of his fingers, and obsessively wiping the hair out of his face, eyes looking everywhere but at you. They were all tells, and Carol felt bad for him.

"Why don't you two stay over for dinner? Ezekiel won't make it home in time so I'd be all alone otherwise." Carol quickly set up a plan, making it all seem like coincidence but in her mind she had all the steps figured out already.

"I'd love to stay over, but only if it's not too much effort." Peeking past Daryl you saw her wave your assumption off and assure it was fine.

And thus you three ended up around Carol's nice dinner table in the King's home.

Somehow you expected it to be fancy and pristine, but that would never happen with how selfless the King was.

The food was nice and Carol had gifted you some stronger painkillers she had laying around to ease your body, you all just chatted about your day, and you thought your subtle questions about him were going okay, until Daryl excused himself to go smoke what seemed in a hurry.

"It's okay honey, Daryl has a hard time opening up to people. He needs to find the right moments to talk." Carol gave you a loving shoulder squeeze and pointed you towards the back door where Daryl had just left through.

"He loves the forest, he feels safe there." With a wink she sent you off.

You carefully approached him and settled in the doorframe. "Hey," Your voice was soft as to not startle him. "Wanna go for a walk? Outside the walls."

With a nod he got up and offered you his hand to take, and with a sigh he let a smile come through. "Carol really set us up, didn't she?"

You laughed along with him and decided then you wouldn't push him, and let him talk at his pace.

With your gear gathered the two of you found yourselves walking along the tree line in silence.

"M' sorry." Daryl kept his eyes on the ground where he walked, but with his pinkie he touched yours and hooked them together.

"When Carol brought ya to welcome me back after the huntin' I was confused. But when I felt yer curious stares instead of gettin' negative 'n scared I got.." He fell quiet, his hand pulling away from yours but you quickly grabbed it fully, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

But you stayed quiet, and just walked with his hand in yours.

After a long stretch of only hearing the ground crunch under your shoes Daryl stopped.

"S'where I stay when I go out each month." You stood a few feet away from a rock wall, overgrown with green and a small clearing in it. Looking around you there was no way of being seen here from any angle.

You also saw trees with torn off branches and what looked like deep claw marks. "Should'a shown ya 'fore last night."

You looked over at him and made sure he saw you smile. "You really think anything would have changed my mind?" Your hands came up to his face to hold his gaze on you, hoping he'd see the truth in your eyes.

"I know yer not lyin'. Ya haven't lied since we started talkin'." His hand moved to touch the small of your back, the other one gesturing at the overgrown wall. "C'mon."

Daryl had his knife ready as he moved past some hanging vines with your hand in his to keep you close.

The area was void of any dead, except for the picked clean bones covering the ground.

And the seemingly random pile of fabrics and signs of humans staying here.

He let go of your hand and let you wander around, staring at every little thing.

You kneeled down off to the side, getting up to move some vines to let in more light before walking back.

"You stay here?" Your fingers traced the print in the sand, glancing over at Daryl who was slowly stepping closer with calculated steps, like a true huntsman would to not startle an animal.

Quietly he leaned down next to you, and without saying a word moved his hand to the print in the loose sand.

The world went blurry around Daryl's hand as you watched it change. Muscles under the skin warping to reshape as flesh darkened and nails grew, and then fit perfectly into the indentation.

Daryl was hyper aware of everything around him, senses almost overwhelming him as he felt the worms crawl under the earth and heard the birds fly over outside. But even with his senses running on overdrive he couldn't find a single negative feeling coming off you.

You stared at his hand, now more a claw and it felt like everything suddenly made sense.

His strength, the way he heard things from so far off, his way of using terms that didn't make sense and that strange glow in his eyes.

Daryl's mind kept showing you running away, crying as he got closer each time.

Instead, there in the small cave like structure he called home once a month, you reached out your hand and placed it on top of his changed one.

"I don't regret being curious." Your shoulder rested against his, slowly easing into more contact. "And I'm still happy I went home with you, and came here to see this. To see you." Your weight was now entirely resting against his side, and for the first time since he sat down he dared to look at you.

You, who laid comfortably against his side.

"I'm honestly kinda glad you showed me this." You watched Daryl raise his brows at your words. "Suddenly your strange but interesting things make sense. Kinda obvious for someone to be so strong, or have glowy eyes when they're not human."

Your hand gave his a comfortable squeeze. "I hope you'll show me all of this you one day." With a finger pressed to his knuckles you moved your head to kiss his cheek.

"Close yer eyes fer a minute." Daryl moved to stand after he kissed your head, moving behind you.

Noises filled the air. Clothes being undone and landing on the floor.

And then cracking. Tearing and groaning. Coughing and growling, a thud that acompanied a shove against your backside that almost made you turn around, but je asked not to, and you were going to respect his wish.

Once the noises died down and all you heard was deep breathing you opened your eyes again, staring straight forward as you waited. Waited for something to signal it was okay to turn.

That something was a press against your shoulder, a press and a huff of air against your exposed neck.

From the edge of your vision a nose peeked, making you turn and stare right into his scarred eye.

"Wow." It caught you off guard and you stubled backwards just a small bit, staring and laughing at yourself for falling on your ass. "Okay. Big guy. That's ..wow."

You followed his movements as he walked into your view. And you recognised him. All ofrhe features that made Daryl look like himself changed along with him, from the dark, shaggy mane to the scar and beard. Even his tattoos were spots of darker fur, especially clear on the lighter areas.

But, still..

"Wait. So Carol knows about," you wildly gestured at his entire self. "you know, this. She's seen you? And what about the butcher? That comment of hers, she knew."

You gasped in realisation. "You were testing me! You could hear us, you were there on purpose oh my god."

Daryl only sat and listened to your rambling. If anyone had asked him how he envisioned this scene to go, he would have never guessed this to be the way. Not that he was complaining or anything, he liked this.

He liked you, and you liked him too, even in this shape.

With a tap to your hand and his paw covering his eyes he asked you to look away once more, changing back to his human self and getting dressed before coming to press a kiss to your temple. "So, ya sure this's all fine?"

You stood up to join him at eye level. "You're either the most dense man ever, or are still convinced you don't deserve love just because you're different." Your deadpan look spoke more than needed.

"Yeah, alrigh'. Sorry." He shook his head in apology.

"You literally just turned into a goddamn werewolf." You paused. "Wait. That is correct, right? You're a werewolf? I mean, I don't wanna assume and be wrong, or offensive.."

He kept his head low but nodded, telling you were correct in your observations.

You stepped into his space and peppered his face with kisses, grabbing his hands to fake a sense of chaining him to you and it worked. He let himself melt into you and accept your affection.

Your love.

"Let's go home?"

With a nod he stepped back go retrieve your items. "Yeah. Home's good."

The walk home was silent, only sporadic and very random questions with short and simple answers.

Only when he dropped you off at home he spoke full sentences again. "I wan' ya t'move in with me."

You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. But we gotta clean the place first."

With a nod he agreed and let you go for the day. Only a week later moving the last of your items into his home after strategically cleaning and rearranging his home to accomodate two people.

That night, in bed all cuddled up together after a shower, Daryl pressed his lips against your jaw and uttered three simple words.

"I love ya."

A/N: Okay yeah damn that became way longer than I originally planned. But it wad fun! Hope you enjoyed it~

[blogofloathing]

A loud, cheesy anthem plays as an awful stylilized OCWE appears on a black and white TV screen

"Good belated myorning folks, I am your esteemed host! Gillian Barlows Jr! And you are watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire! Hyere to bring you the latest scyoop on the people of our great city! who are they? Why are they? When are they? How do they peel their y'apples? Let's find out nyow!"

A new fangled transition effect plays as Gillian gives an overly exaggerated shocked expression.

Approaching our first interviewee, Gygan Clarks of the Ocean City Watchful Eye, but it seems he isn't particularly excited to see us haha, wonder why.

Our trusty boom man sticks the mic in his face, at which Gygan looks visibly annoyed, sheesh you'd think we killed this guys business or something.

"What do you want Gillian" he spat, frankly I'm offended he would be so rude to a reporter!

My cameraman delivers the question after a discreet go ahead sign waved in his direction

"Look unless you think apples can make coffee taste better I'm not interested," Gygan hisses, and after a short pause mutters "with a pocket knife"

And indeed if the bulge in his pocket isn't due to seeing me, he carries said weapon on him.

Let's move on from this wannabe newsman before he gets violent! You know how those types are.

Grumbling to himself, something about "fuckin' trend hopping fast news pieces of-" haha anyway!

An apple shaped transition plays, and due to formatting issues doesn't properly disappear

•••

Our next guest went up to us herself upon hearing there was a survey, so give it up for.. Simone Chekhov! Of the S.I.T Robotics department—

Somehow interrupting this audio added in post, the girl fires up a seemingly long held rant.

"Well actually it's Robotechtronics there's a very subtle but important difference in the two fields but anyway I made a machine that peels them so precisely the skin dissolves in contact with the air due to being sliced at such a thin micromascopic level that their mololcules are-" a thin homeless girl sticks a thumbs up wildly behind Simone.

The video is suddenly stopped here due to space, a cartoonish image of sad Gillian giving a thumbs down is shown onscreen for a few seconds.

•••

we're sorry to cut this short but our camera ran plumb out of juice trying to record it all haha!

Though this did little to falter her one sided rant, even as we turned our attention away from her

Moving onto the aforementioned hobo (it's good to get a perspective from the less than fortunate.)

"OOO OOO you're gonna ask me a question! Give it here!" She jumps excitedly, the words slamming into our crew much in the same way she physically rammed into my mic man in her overzealousness

The dusty girl, who we made sure didn't touch any of our equipment, had been chittering something inane at Simone when we asked, somehow able to properly talk between each other rather than over.

"I dunno I just chomp em, see?" taking a playful bite out of her sour face, leaving a toothy mark.

... the sounds of crickets chirping has been added

"Agh! Victoria!" She expleted, wiping her face off with her sleeve, "that's gross- you're gross!"

Though Victoria didn't seem too bothered, a sly little grin making its home on her spotted face.

"Hey don't pretend ya didn't like it" she slithered, at which Simone gave her a rather hard smack on the head "and there's more where that came from!" The bespectacled girl tittered haughtily.

A tinny and muffled laugh track plays, as Gillian audibly clicks a tape recorder to start and stop

•••

Moving on from those, shall we say interesting, characters, our boom operator caught wind of some music playing a few blocks down.

And we followed the groovy tunes to their source, coming upon quite the cello fellow!

Who is contentedly playing his instrument, my team having to remind him of the question, "oh I just slice em up with my trusty pocketknife!" Holding it up for a second before going back to ringing out the tunes.

Looks to be the same kinda knife as that.. eh I forgot his name already.

I say someone should definitely toss that guy a quarter, not me though.

Really if he can afford a cello is he actually that poor I mean cmon- ah, I've been instructed by my cameraman to stop here.

A bubble and wave crashing sound effect plays too loudly, with a chintzy fade to black transition

•••

Taking a dip per sé, we find.. someone else to ask.

Attempting to avoid being seen, the oddly slimy fellow is hiding against a wall, but seeing as his clothes aren't the exact shade and texture of bricks, "I, I don't know what an apple is? please leave me alone.." he croaks out in a froggy tone.

"Would you like to try one?" My boom operator chipperly inquires, at which the still unnamed weirdo looks even more terrified of us than before

"N-no I'm good really I.." it trailed off, guess they make hobos different these days, I can't get a read on what this guy might be on the street to beg for.

"Cmon I'll get ya a fresh one" he says again, taking a step closer to it, making the thing jump loudly.

Before running away from my team in a lurch, leaving weird wet slappy footprints in his wake.

Well that was certainly productive, why don't we heed this guys words and move on to another!

A hexagon transition with a splat sound effect, it doesn't even fully segue, cutting halfway through

•••

At the urging of my team, we reluctantly almer over to a goblin for questioning, she seemed to be dancing animatedly.. or maybe boxing with the air?

"Hi! Yes yes Hello! To apples slicing? No no, Gabby is practicing see?" It said, nearly assaulting one of my cameramen, "Gabby is champion of the box!"

a goofy swirl sound effect and then a laugh track

We don't speak creature so I have no idea what any of that meant, I'd say we get out of here before that thing gets aggressive, I've heard the stories of these kinds of monsters being dangerous!

They're lucky they don't have rights or else we'd totally sue them for emotional damages.

a spooky transition effect plays, bats flying across the screen and a very poorly done witches laugh

•••

As we were making our way back to the studio, my mic man caught eye of some kinda hobo living in the alley, I insisted we don't interview something like that but who listens to me around here?

Walking up to her, I'm already less than enthused about her appearance, something in her eyes wasn't like it should be, they seemed to stare directly inside of us unlike anything.

"Hello ma'am how would you say you peel-" my other cameraman began, being cut off by her wheezily trilling poem, "peel? Peeling, skin peeling wallpaper off the wall, apples falling trees cutting"

I.. wow! Okay! That is not at all what any of us were expecting, all our hairs stood violently on end.

Like looking into the den of a wounded predator about to make a strike, protecting its wounds.

She stepped closer to us, gazing through us, it felt as though she saw more than just my skin.

"Apples and oranges" it felt as though she wasn't even talking to us, despite facing our direction.

No one bothered putting a transition effect here, the camera simply cuts right to the next scene

•••

aaaaand one last questioneer today folks! As we were wrapping up and dutifully wiping down and sanitizing our stuff to get all the filth off them, a distracted old guy bumped into us, and sooooo!

"Oh! Eh uh, I mostly just eat cheese" the weirdo said emphatically before forcing us to look at a horrible mass of aged milk madness, before reassuring us that "it's Käse Brezel! The finest in the city! If ya see me come and buy so-" yeah no

Sorry sir I don't even know what language you just spoke there but I can tell it ain't somethin I'm gonna be eating, especially from someone like you

Though my crew seems oddly interested in it, I'll have to show them what real food is like I guess,

gives me an excuse to hang out with those mooks.

anywho, our final stop of the day was a nice little cheese pretzel shop, the finest in the city!

An equally loud and somehow even cheesier little outro theme plays as we fade back onto Gillian

"Well thyank you all for tyuning in this fine after nyoon, we hope we could answer all of your deep byurning questions! As always I am your esteemed host; Gillian Barlows Jr! And you have been watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire, where we catch up the scyoop and throw it to your hyoop! See y'all nyext week with our next Q: how good is the government doing right now? ( A: pyerfect!)"

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 22

Part 1 | Part 21 | Part 23 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mightbeasleep, @jewellthebooknerd, @fentiibratzz @rvllybllply2014

================================================

Steve's not sure which of the things wakes him first. It could have been all the security lights coming on at once, causing a beam to stream directly onto Steve through the sliver between the curtains or Beans going absolutely mental barking the house down. He looks at the alarm clock. It's nearly two in the morning, he groggily stirs from under Robin's draped-over arm, and as he moves, she wakes too. He blinks to take in the room and can see Max's outline standing at the foot of his bed. He switches on the bedside lamp.

'Oh good, you're awake. I was worried I was going to have to use this!" Max hoists a spray bottle above her head.

"Are you ok? What's going on?" Steve croaks out, rubbing his still-sore eyes, and Max puts her hands on her hips with an unimpressed expression.

"If I knew what was going on. Beans and I wouldn't be trying to wake you up so frantically now, would we, genius!" She snips.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Max," Steve says awkwardly.

Robin leaps to her feet, "What the hell? Who the-? Is it burglars? Am I gonna take down an attempted serial killer" Steve notices she's armed herself with one of his big cans of hairspray.

"I don't think it's nearly as serious as all that. Well, unless they work in convoy now?" Max replies.

"Convoy? What? Robin put down my hairspray. It's not a weapon." Steve grumbles getting to his feet and adjusting his pyjamas from their twisted sleep state.

"Oh, Steve, I worked with you in the eighties. I know this stuff is weapons-grade!" Robin replies suredily.

"Look, can we focus, please!" Max says seriously, "I think I heard a bunch of cars pull up the driveway, but no one knocked on the door or the window or called or anything. I could just hear…well…buzzing."

"Buzzing? Like Bees?!" Robin asks hurriedly, “Oh god, after everything we’ve been through, we finally get taken out by bees? Quickly, er smoke, they don't like smoke, right? Right guys?”

"Yes, that's it. A bunch of beekeepers drove to Steve's in the middle of the night to drop off some bees." Max says, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Well, that seems unlikely," Steve laughs, and Max throws her hands in the air, exasperated. She was being sarcastic.

Robin points at her, smiles at Steve, and then back at Max, looking pleased with herself. "Ah, good, it's just sarcasm. I get it. So what kind of buzzing do you mean?"

"Like…electricity…you know the hum of it, but a lot of it…I don't know how to explain it…like-" but Max's words are cut short by a high-pitched noise, which has them all covering their ears quickly, and Beans drops to the floor with a whimper covering her’s with her paws.

"Sorry, everyone," a voice rings out, amplified, and Steve feels his heart pound in his chest.

"Eddie." he manages to say in a whisper as his face drops. He quickly smooths over his hair in the mirror and checks his face. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to get changed, as Robin pulls back the curtains. A huge smile spreads across her face as she looks out the window.

"Steve, oh my god. You're not gonna believe this. Hurry up!!!" Robin pulls Max close to her and begins whispering the details to her, and a big smile spreads to her face too.

Steve rushes to the window and, at full speed, trips over Beans in the process but quickly gets back to his feet just in time to hear the sound of ukuleles and percussive instruments and then the unmistakable sound of Eddie singing.

Swaying room as the music starts

Strangers making the most of the dark

Two by two, their bodies become one

Steve looks out, and the driveway is indeed full. The RV, Jenny's car, and one he doesn't know.

I see you through the smokey air

Can't you feel the weight of my stare?

You're so close but still a world away

Shielding his eyes a little from the security lights acting like spotlights, he can see Eddie singing up to his window, a tiny ukulele in his hands, but so does the older man beside him. Wayne. Strumming along, positively beaming at Eddie, whose eyes are firmly on their bedroom window. Steve's hand goes to his mouth. Then, as he looks to Eddie's other side, he can see Corey standing on a step stool next to him, a shaker in hand next to his own mic. Then a mic with Jenny and Val swaying gently together and Morgan and Zee clicking their fingers up to their own mic.

What I'm dying to say, is that

I'm crazy for you

Touch me once and you'll know it's true

I never wanted anyone like this

It's all brand new

You'll feel it in my kiss

I'm crazy for you

Crazy for you

“Eddie, singing Madonna?” Max says, amazed but with a tease in her voice, “I will enjoy reminding him of this if he ever questions anyone’s music taste around me again.”

Steve’s family lean in to add their backing vocals to the chorus. Robin and Max start singing too, which makes Steve well up a little. His eyes go back to Eddie. His neck straining with singing, and his huge hopeful eyes looking up at the window like he is willing it open with them. Steve's heart rate quickens and his breaths shorten as he yanks the window open. Causing some grumblings and fuss from Robin.

He came home. His love came home when he didn't deserve it at all. Their eyes lock, and it's like everyone else completely disappears for a few seconds, and Steve can't stand to be this far apart any longer.

He rushes from the window and thunders barefoot down the stairs swinging himself around the bannister posts. Shouts from Max and Robin urging him to slow down, but he absolutely can't right now. No way. Please don't let this be some kind of messed-up dream. He hurriedly unlocks all the fixings on the door, and for the first time, he curses having so many. When the last one is done, he nearly rips the door out of its frame to get to Eddie.

As he steps outside, there is a deafening clang. Eddie pushes the mic stand out of his way and drops his ukulele to the ground as Jenny and Val take over the lead singing. They meet halfway between, and Steve stops a step before contact to take him in. His voice wavering, he whispers, "You came home." His hands reach up and touch Eddie's face gently, moving over his skin, feeling the changing textures and its warmth that he's missed so desperately. Then occasionally, moving a stray curl of his hair, rolling the strands between his fingers like it was the most precious spun thread in the universe. He's looking at Eddie like he can barely believe he's real. Then his eyes move further down, and he notices the scarf Eddie has around his neck, but it's not covering the entirety of the bruising. Steve tentatively moves his fingers to it, hands shaking, and Eddie grabs his hand firmly, shaking his head, staring directly into Steve's eyes.

"Not now, please." Eddie begs him, his eyes brimmed with tears, "Let's just have tonight, yeah?" Steve chews on his bottom lip, and a few tears break down his defences. He didn't want to cry right now. He's so tired of it. He wants to smile so big it hurts, to show Eddie how happy he is that he returned, but the guilt is coursing through him like a poison swimming in his blood.

"I'm so, so, sorry, Eddie," Steve says as the poison saturates his being and exposes itself. His eyes and hands still trailing over Eddie's face, like he can't believe he's truly here.

Eddie's hands come up to capture Steve's to ground him, to get him to hear as well as see him, "Steve. Please. Not now. I wanna come home. Please?" He asks softly, but Steve can hear how badly Eddie needs this. He's begging Steve to let them have this for a while before they have to talk about what happened. Eddie steps forward, closing the space between them, and though every atom of him says Steve deserves no respite from his guilt and shame, Eddie does. So Steve nods enthusiastically. Eddie doesn't wait for the second nod before gripping Steve in his arms, and a wobbling smile explodes onto Eddie's face. He looks over his shoulder for a second, "Look away, kids!" He says before kissing Steve into the heavens above as the singing around them gets louder.

Steve knows he's crying, but he can feel Eddie shaking against him and knows he is too. Their tears pooling where their faces pressed together might be the weirdest thing Steve has ever comprehended, and yet at the same time, it feels like magic. Steve is desperately trying to take long inhales through his nose so he doesn't have to separate them to take a breath.

Next, he feels the most beautiful thing: Eddie's laugh against him, and he pulls back, but Steve chases his mouth, making him laugh more. Barely an inch between them, and Steve's eyes are still scanning over his face like he is looking at it for the first and last time. He dips his head to the side slightly, "I've missed you so much." He reaches for one of Eddie's arms to pull his hand over his heart and sighs, aware his face is a complete mess from crying, but thinks Eddie never looked more beautiful.

Eddie mirrors the hand placement with Steve's hand, "And the minute I knew that. I had to put a stop to it." Eddie replies lovingly, looking deeply into his eyes, "I would have been earlier, but with every step I took back home, someone else wanted to get involved." He smiles and puts his hand to Steve's cheek, trying to wipe away his tears, but Steve leans into it, desperate for his touch, and Eddie reads it easily enough and pulls him close again. Steve closes his eyes and melts into him, and hears Eddie sigh in his ear. Not a dreamy lovelorn sigh, but one of grateful relief. Eddie's warmth against him feels like the dark, haunted house that his body has felt like the last few days suddenly has the power back on, and it's lighting up room by room. Then he whispers, "I don't really wanna let go right now or ever again, but, uh, we have an audience. Normally I wouldn't care, but some of them are minors." Eddie laughs a little, and Steve opens his eyes to look around at the others, still repeating this song, but Robin and Max have taken over Eddie's mic this time.

Steve sniffles and wipes his eyes, giving them all a wave and sheepish smile, "Hi," he says meekly, even though they couldn't possibly hear him, it just encourages them to sing louder, and Steve can see some of the neighbours lights switching on down the street. He points them out to Eddie, but when he turns to him, he gets lost in his eyes again.

"Don't worry about them, baby. I'll take care of our neighbours tomorrow." Eddie says with a smile, and Steve pokes him gently.

"Stop being so damn adorable before I embarrass myself even more in front of everyone," Steve says like a ventriloquist so only Eddie can hear him, making a huge smile spread across his face.

"Well, you know, they are all outside now…" Eddie says mischievously in a sing-song way, and quickly picks up Steve in his arms, pulling a whoop from Val, and runs into the house with him, kicking the door shut behind him. Quickly he lowers Steve to standing and spins them around until Steve is pinned up against the door and engaged in a hard kiss again. Eddie's hands either side of his head, fingers plunged into his hair, "Fuck, I've missed you so much." Eddie mutters against Steve's mouth before kissing him deeper, his hands trailing down his body, one to the scar on Steve's neck and the other hand down to the deeper scar on his side. 

"Tell me about it," Steve replies when they come up for air. Then, placing one hand to cup Eddie's face, his fingers lying over his roaring dragon of a scar, the other at his waist, slipped under his t-shirt, his thumb gently running over one-half of their twin scars there, making Eddie elicit a noise of appreciation and want as he pushes him against the door again. Steve would take a million head bumps and all the splinters the door had to offer if it meant he'd never have to be any further than this away from Eddie ever again.

Then suddenly, there is a pounding on the window. "HEY!! HE CAN'T DO THAT. STOP IMMEDIATELY!!" It's Max.

Eddie pulls back, looks at the window and then at Steve through droopy eyelids, "What does she mean, honey?" He looks so adorably confused as his eyebrows push together in worry.

"It's fine. She's worrying over nothing." Steve says dreamily, capturing Eddie's lip between his own, hungry to taste him again. Eddie groans appreciatively, and that results in more banging on the window.

"I WILL BREAK THIS WINDOW AND CRAWL THROUGH THE BROKEN GLASS TO STOP YOU!" Max yells.

Eddie pulls away again. Now he's frowning and walks over to the window, opens it a tiny amount with one hand, the other trailing behind him to make sure his fingertips are still touching Steve's.

"Alright, Red, you win. This better be good. What can't he do?" Eddie presses his lips together, a little annoyed.

"He can't…you know…do stuff…" Max says quietly through the open window, and Eddie shuts it and starts to walk back before she's frantically knocking again, shouting, "It's all in the recovery leaflet!!!" Eddie screws up his eyes and fists for a second, curses under his breath, then sighs in defeat and looks at Steve with a small apologetic smile.

"Guess we better let them in, babe," Eddie complains, reaching for the door handle. Pressing Steve back into it one last time with a much softer kiss that starts with, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve replies with a small chaste kiss as the door opens.

Beans charges in first, and the others follow. Steve can see Wayne and the kids have been packing away the serenade equipment. Everyone that passes gives them a huge hug each, most people sit in the lounge, but Val makes a beeline for the kitchen.

The last person to come through the door is Wayne. He's a little older, a little more frail. Steve's eyes meet his, sending Wayne a million apologies as he looks back. God, he hopes he knows how fucking sorry he is. Would it even matter? Steve can't even imagine what he would feel if someone had done what he had to one of his kids. The worry must show because Eddie's arm around him pulls him a little closer to his side. "Not tonight,' Eddie requests again softly, causing them both to turn to him simultaneously, then back to one another. Wayne clasps Steve's shoulder and pats it pulling him in for a hug.

"Hello, Sunshine," he drawls, and Steve lets go of Eddie to embrace Wayne tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Wayne," Steve says, gripping his jacket so he has fistfuls of material like it was a lifeline. 

"You're ok, Sunny. We'll talk. Nothin' bad, just wanna understand, but the boy asked, not tonight, ok?" Wayne gives him a reassurance he knows he doesn't deserve at all, but Steve nods against Wayne's rough jacket collar in respect of Eddie.

"Ok." Steve chokes back simply to avoid further upset, mainly for Eddie.

Once Wayne is inside, they close the door and make their way hand in hand over to the others. A few steps before the seating Max appears out of nowhere, startling Eddie.

"Jesus Christ!" Eddie exclaims, flinching into Steve's arms, which, honestly, is exactly the sign he needs that this isn't fake or for his benefit. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even if he was protecting him against nothing, Eddie's instinct was still to move towards him, not away, and that meant more to Steve right now than all the riches in the world. Max pokes a leaflet into Eddie's chest.

"Read it. Now." She says firmly. Eddie makes a face, and although she can't possibly see it, she adds, "I'm not kidding around. I will make your life hell if you don't. I promise you that!" She says, folding her arms and tapping her foot.

"Ok, ok! Christ," Eddie says, a little afraid. He reads over the leaflet about post-heart attack recovery, his eyes scanning over the paper rapidly from side to side, he mumbles the words occasionally, and then he stops. "Oh. I see. Well, thank you, but just so you know. I wasn't even thinking about," he drops his voice to whisper, "sex."

Max tilts her head at him, her expression incredulous.

"Ok, maybe that's not entirely true, but gimme a break, ok?" Eddie confesses, and Steve realises in all the excitement that he's entirely forgotten that he should be taking things more slowly and carefully.

"No. You don't get any more breaks or allowances! You read the stuff. You fucking live by it, ok?! For Steve, obviously, but also for me, I do not ever want to be in the auditory range of you guys making out again. The noises may haunt me for life!" Max orders, with no wavering. "I know where Steve keeps his spray bottles, and I will use them, Eddie!"

"Wow, have you ever thought of a career in care?" Eddie laughs, but Max does not budge. Her face is stern as she waits for confirmation. Finally, Eddie puts his hand on her shoulder. "I swear and…thank you, Max," he says, pulling her in for a one-armed hug. 

Steve looks around at everyone in the living room. Robin has pulled in some chairs from the kitchen as Val brings in a tray of coffee and soft drinks. "So, apparently, you all made him late?" Steve says with an adoring half smile as he looks over each of their faces.

"In our defence, we were there when he got your message. Luckily Morgan here was quick enough to grab his keys before he could get to 'em." Wayne says proudly.

"Saving the contents of the RV, and our lives probably, because Edward over there didn't have the look of a man who was gonna pack everythin' away neatly before breaking every speed limit on the way here." Wayne takes a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow at Eddie as he does.

"Getting slow, aren't ya, Eddie?" Morgan teases with a smirk.

Eddie flops into an armchair, "I was not slow! I just forgot where I put them, that's all!" He defends as he directs Steve to have him sit down in his lap, pulling his legs across him. He quickly puts a finger up towards Corey, "Listen, I know the rules, but I cite the small print of exceptional circumstances, which I feel this falls into." Corey looks at Zee, and she nods.  As she does, Steve notices something else, Morgan is holding her hand, and their fingers are laced together. Corey rolls his eyes but admits defeat, and Eddie looks pleased with himself, pulling Steve in a little closer.

It isn't how they would typically sit with a group of people. It was probably more reserved for when they were alone. Nothing lewd about it. It was just tender and close, and until now, most of that had been in private, for one another only. Eddie's one arm draped over his thighs, his other rubbing gently on Steve's back. Steve moves one hand to the nape of Eddie's neck, gently playing with his curls. His other hand reaches for Eddie's, which is across his legs. The way they are sitting, Steve can turn to see everyone clearly, but facing forward, all he can see is Eddie's profile, and for a while, he just watches him talk with the others. Watches his face when he speaks, all the places it creases, the shape of his eyes, the way his mouth moves and his hair bounces around. Steve feels a little like he's not really here. Floaty almost. Euphoric. He doesn't know what will happen next. He just knows his Eddie is back home. 

Eddie was so incredibly wonderful, not just because he made grand gestures, not just because he was beautiful, not just because he unashamedly loved Steve, not just because he was making this huge complicated thing almost easy. It was all those things and so much more, and Steve felt almost tipsy on the prospect of having at all returned to him. He felt so lucky. Any of the people around him right now could have left him for dust, but they didn't; they were all here and had joined Eddie on his escapade. When Eddie turns to look at him, and their eyes meet, Eddie gently laughs, and all Steve can do is gaze and sigh, but he realises perhaps he might have been neglecting everyone else for too long.

"Ok, so Wayne and Morgan are excused. Why are you all here too?" Steve's eyes fall on his children and Jenny, all three of which immediately physically point at Val, who is acting like the innocent party serving the drinks out. He flashes Steve his most charming bright white smile and gives an almost cutesy shrug.

"Steven, forgive Valentino for not wanting to miss out on the serenade of the century, uh?" He lays his Italian accent on thickly and gestures with his hands, fingertips pinched together. Steve rolls his eyes playfully and nods. Val blows him a kiss back and continues with the drinks, and Steve feels Eddie's hands grip him for a second or two. Then, as Steve turns to look at him, he finds Eddie's eyes trained on Val. Who now defends his love of all things romantic to Wayne, Robin and Max.

"Eddie, no," Steve says quietly, almost laughing at the ridiculousness, and nudges him.

"Ok, sorry, maybe I'm a little jealous, ok? But, I mean, look at him, and he's always, you know, touching you, and you've got inside jokes and stuff." Eddie responds in a whisper.

"Are you crazy?" Steve whispers to Eddie, "That's my ex-wife's husband, pretty much."

"Yeah, well, your pretty much husband is pretty much insecure, ok. Wouldn't it bother you?" Eddie asks in earnest. Your pretty much husband swims on repeat through Steve's head, and he almost gets entirely lost in Eddie all over again. So he puts it in a mental glass display case next to 'Our Window'.

"Val? No. That guy is Jenny's. I'm sure he believes he was made for her and her only." Steve says dreamily, looking at Eddie. 

Eddie's chest heaves, and his gaze softens, "Mhmmm yeah, that. That I can understand." His hand on Steve's back slips into his shirt, and Steve has to give Eddie a nudge to knock it off, but the way Eddie grins back at him, he knows that's precisely the opposite of what Steve wants right now and is just sparing the blushes of everyone else in the room. 

Zee's voice pulls Steve back to the conversation again.

"So Morgan calls me, tells me Eddie has half a plan to win Dad back, though clearly there was no winning to be done, with a song and is rushing towards his house. I tell him that if he does, he'll set off all the alarms and stuff, and the cops will get alerted, so I suggest coming to Mom's first, and I can give them the info to sort those out. Eddie says only if it's ok with your Mom. Otherwise, he can handle the cops. He's not letting a silly thing like security or the law stop him." Mackenzie giggles as Morgan watches her talk like he's hanging on her every word before exchanging a fleeting look and some blushes. 

"So she finds me," Jenny takes up the reins for the next part of the story, "Luckily, I'm not asleep. She's all crazy-eyed and talking way too fast. I obviously agree. Val wakes up, overhears and makes some excuse about RV's not having enough seat belts. So he wakes up Corey, and when they turn up. Val manages to coax them inside, to get all the details. Then offers the rest of us up as a backing group." Val offers another one of his innocent shrugs and smiles at Steve, which is shortly followed by Eddie wiggling in his seat and tapping his rings against his leg, capturing Steve's attention.

"Then, of course, the old timer didn't want to feel left out, so he wanted a ukulele too. So I rework the song a little. Cut to a bunch of us rooting through my storage unit looking for mics, cables, instruments and amps. Shortly followed by us rehearsing in the RV in the storage place's parking lot. Then finally, we got here. Like I said, babe, I would have been here much earlier." Eddie says, finally turning to him with a cute smile, fluttering his eyelashes, knowingly, instantly, sending the blame to everyone else in the room.

"Well, thank you for that memorable performance," Steve says genuinely.

"You could have at least let us get through the whole song once!" Corey complains. Steve looks around the room, and his eyes land back on Eddie, who is already gazing up at him.

"No, I couldn't, and I'm not sorry about interrupting either!" Steve says to the room, but his eyes stay connected with Eddie's, making him smile bashfully and the finest flush of pink hits his cheeks, which Steve thinks makes him look ten times more adorable. He can hear the faint sound of a pretend heave which he imagines must be Corey or Max, but he can't tear his eyes from the handsome man beside him.

They all chat a little more about other songs they could have chosen, how Eddie's storage unit was a cave of wonders, and placing bets on how many passive-aggressive notes will get posted to the house tomorrow, but not one mentions the original reason they are there. Not the horror Steve had committed, not the hospital, not how much any party had seen Steve or Eddie crumble being apart, not even a tease about the glaring misunderstanding between the two of them. This was either some unspoken agreement between them all, or more likely, Eddie had told them as much in no uncertain terms. But soon enough, an overly loud yawn gets their attention. Val accompanies it with a theatrical stretch, "Oh my goodness, would you look at the time?! We should really get going."

"But we just got here!" Corey protests as he's ruffling Beans' fur.

"And now we're going!" Jenny says firmly, causing an eye roll and a stroppy flop backwards on the couch from Corey, which Steve knows is probably because the kid is tired. There is a small exchange of coy smiles between Mackenzie and Morgan before he stands up and hugs her goodbye. It's a bit official-looking, which strikes Steve as suspicious, but then he does something familiar. He rolls back his shoulders and takes a stride forward. Steve notices out the corner of his eye that Eddie is stifling down a laugh, not to mock, but simply because Morgan has surprised him, and continues to do so as he ruffles Corey's hair, earning him a playful shove, accepting a sweet head-cradling embrace from Jenny, and he shakes Val's hand, business-like.

"Wow, he's really just going for it, isn't he?" Eddie whispers behind his hand to Steve.

"Yeah, can't imagine where he would even get the idea of acting on impulse like that," Steve whispers back, trying not to laugh, when Eddie looks up at him with a huge cheeky grin. 

On Morgan's cue, everyone makes their goodbyes and goodnights with one another. A few times, entirely by chance, Steve finds himself a little too far from Eddie for his liking, but when he turns to look for him, he discovers that Eddie must feel much the same because he's looking for him too. Until it only leaves Steve and Eddie in the lounge alone.

Eddie gently encourages Steve to sit in the armchair as he busies himself, taking seat cushions from sofas, gathering blankets, and building a small fort. He gets coffee for himself and a glass of water for Steve and then assumes a familiar position with the remote controls dumped beside him. Eddie sits at the back of the tiny enclosure and beckons Steve to join him, patting the cushion between his long legs.

"Aren't you tired, honey? We could just go to bed." Steve says with a quiet laugh, but succumbing to Eddie's sweet request all the same. Eddie doesn't answer, he just waits for Steve to sit down, and as his back touches Eddie's chest, he finds himself wrapped up in his tattooed arms, and a pleasant hum comes from the man behind him.

"Don't wanna close my eyes just yet, you can though," Eddie says, and at first Steve is puzzled, that is until he feels a shuffling behind him, and Eddie's shirt is disposed of next to him. Steve attempts to turn around, but Eddie guides him back to facing forward before adding with a laugh, "Don't want you getting all excited now, do we, sweetheart?" 

Next, Eddie gently raises Steve's arms, relieving Steve of the confines of his shirt also. It makes him laugh, he doesn't quite understand what's happening, though it's obviously a million light years from unpleasant, when he's manhandled backwards to be wholly pressed against Eddie's chest, and that multicoloured crochet blanket gets wrapped around them both along with Eddie's arms. His hands each reach for Steve's, and their fingers intertwine. One set ends up in the centre of Steve's chest, while the other uses the remote to find a music video channel.

Steve dissolves gently into Eddie. His safety, his love, his comfortable armour that doesn't weigh him down. His mind, which has been grinding him down for days, finally grinds to a halt for a few moments before sleep tries to take over him, "We could have done this upstairs, you know, honey?" Steve barely mumbles out.

"I know," The way Eddie's voice is both so close to his ear and also vibrates through him as he talks soothes him like some magical ointment to his wounded heart, "I wanted it to be here, though." That's when the penny drops for Steve. Eddie was trying to fill this room with a different last memory of them alone together. Not full of fear but safety. Not aggression but love. Steve could almost start crying all over again at the pure sweetness of Eddie's efforts, but he resists. He wants to erase it all as much as Steve does, and though there is nowhere further to go, Steve shuffles back into Eddie again, squeezing their joined hands. Making sure one set remains over his heart and the other wraps around him tightly. He wants to tell Eddie wordlessly he wants it too, which earns him a soft kiss on the back of his head. Eddie leans forward, rests his chin on Steve's shoulder, and instinctively, he leans his head against him with a happy sigh.

"I love you so much," Steve says as easily as exhaling.

“And I love you too. So much. Like Crazy. I really do. I know we just sound like a couple of old saps, but I’m serious. I’m serious about the words, about us, about everything. I don't wanna get into it tonight, but it was hell without you, babe. Like, the absolute worst.” Eddie says as he rocks him gently, and Steve wants to reply, to tell him the same, and how he was afraid and would never be able to apologise enough, but as per Eddie’s request, he doesn't. Instead, Steve nods against him and plants soft kisses over his cheek, hoping it translates. He can feel his fingertips move around the centre of his chest like they are searching for something.

Steve laughs softly, “Can I help you find what you’re looking for, sir?” he says in his best customer service voice. Eddies fingers still, like he’d be caught in the act of doing something he shouldn't be, and then he giggles and nuzzles into Steve’s neck.

“You should be behaving. Matron Max will be down here any minute otherwise,” Eddie says softly, taking a deep inhale of Steve’s hair, “Or should I say mine, because apparently, I’m the only one that could possibly be at fault. I call favouritism!” Eddie playfully complains, squeezing Steve in his arms a little, “I don't blame her, but you know I sat at her bedside too, you know.”

“Oh yeah, I heard something about that,” Steve says with a mischievous giggle.

“You’ve been gossiping about me?” Eddie pretends to be scandalised before leaning into Steve’s ear and rasping, “Glad to know I was on the tip of your tongue, sweetheart.”

Steve nudges him softly, “Alright, alright, you're gonna get us both in trouble. It wasn't so much gossip as it was Max revealing she knew you had a crush on me all that time ago. Said she pretended to be asleep and listened to you write songs about someone who she thought was me.” And though Max had her suspicions, and at this point, Steve knows that Eddie had reciprocated his feelings eventually, he was a little surprised to know it would have started at the hospital, so he asks, “Is that true?”

He feels Eddie smile against his skin, “Yeah, I wrote songs in the hospital. Sometimes whilst I was sitting with Max, and I thought the little shit was asleep.” Steve can’t help but smile hugely at Eddie, trying to avoid answering what he knew Steve was asking.

“Eddie. Light of my life. You know full well that's not what I’m asking. Are you really going to make me ask in full?” Steve says, grinning and looking at Eddie from the corner of his eye.

Eddie nods against him and trails kisses along his shoulder, “If you want your ego stroked, you better have the stones to ask explicitly for it, gorgeous.” Steve absorbs the sweet sensation before he huffs out a laugh.

“Ok, fine. Specifically. In the hospital. Were you, or were you not, writing songs about someone you had a crush on, and that person was me?” Steve says, hoping that he’d covered all the Eddie loopholes he could and for good measure, he turns and kisses Eddie on the temple.

“I may have…” Eddie starts, but Steve interrupts to prevent a vague answer.

“Eddie…” he says in a knowing tone.

“Ok, ok. Sure. I did. Ok? I wrote a few songs about you, well, bits of songs, really. I never finished one,” Eddie says, but weirdly he doesn't sound sad or annoyed about it. He sounds… pleased.

“Why do you sound so happy about unfinished songs about me?” Steve asks with a slight frown, his ego feeling a little scuffed by Eddie’s reaction, and he actually shifts his body so he can turn and face him.

Eddie smirks, looks adoringly into his eyes, and replies softly, “I would have finished them, but I was hanging out with this really hot guy almost every night he wasn’t at work once I got home, and I kinda got distracted.” Steve rolls his eyes. Of course, now it made sense. The only thing capable of preventing Eddie from finishing his love songs was Steve himself. “You know, I’d pick them up again now, try to finish them, but I kinda got my hands full,” Eddie says playfully, gripping onto Steve, his fingers searching around on his chest again for a moment.

“My god, how did I get so enchanted by such a massive dork,” Steve says longingly, his eyes trailing over Eddie’s face.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows, “Because he’s obviously massively charming too?” Eddie's fingers search around in his chest hair some more.

“OK! What is it you’re looking for, exactly?” Steve says so abruptly with a laugh that Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and his hand freezes.

���Nothing. What? I’m not allowed to run my fingers through this fine thatch of glorious chest hair that belongs to my boyfriend?” Eddie attempts, but Steve knows he’s lying. Eddie likes to touch him as much as he can, that was true, but Steve can tell the difference. This wasn't a caress. He was feeling for something. Steve unlinks their hands and folds his arms, and Eddie's eyes dart around in a panic as he claims the hands back quickly, pouting. “Fine. I was looking for your stitches,” he confesses glumly. Steve turns away to hide the smile on his face and relaxes back to lean onto Eddie.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead. I know you must be curious.” Steve replies, trying to hide the grin in his tone, knowing full well there are none. There is a pause and then a readjustment so that Eddie can peer over at him a little more, meaning he’s even more reclined against Eddie.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie says excitedly, and his fingers resume their search as Steve closes his eyes with a smile on his face, happily under his partner’s touch.

Sometime later, Steve wakes up to find himself being carried up the stairs in Eddie’s arms, “What you doin’?” Steve says groggily.

“Oh, you little shit. Now you’re awake, hmmm.” Eddie sounds and looks annoyed, “Two hours, Steve. Two fucking hours I was searching for stitches in that fucking forest on your chest. Until my dumbass was like, they would have shaved it off if they needed to operate.”

Steve giggles quietly, and Eddie grunts a little moving up a few more stairs. Steve knows he’s not the lightest, “I can walk up the stairs, honey. I’m awake now.”

“Oh no. No way. Steve, you are not making me feel stupid and weak all in one night. No fucking way!” Eddie says quietly but still with annoyance as they round the top of the stairs, careful not to wake Robin and Max. Then a smile creeps over his face, “It was a pretty good prank, by your standards at least.” He nods towards the bedroom door handle for Steve to reach down and open it for him.

“I’d say I was sorry, but I’m really not. Besides, you were being sneaky first.” Steve forces a pout and tries to give Eddie the most endearing puppy dog eyes he can. Eddie must sense him staring at him and glances down at him as he carries him into the room, sighs, and shakes his head.

“You’re too fucking old, to be this cute, you know that?” Eddie attempts to reprimand him but grins as he lowers him to the bed. “So damn cute. I don't stand a chance, do I?” He says, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Steve, who only flutters his eyelashes in response, making Eddie burst out laughing. “Come on, let's get you ready for bed,” Eddie says, reaching out his hands to pull him up to sit, pulling Steve’s pyjama top from his back pocket.

“Eddie, you’ve done enough. I’m capable.” Steve says, reaching for his sleepwear, but Eddie quickly moves out of arm's reach before gently capturing Steve’s chin between his thumb and index finger, gently, and tilting his head, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“You sure you don’t want my help, sweetheart?” Steve knows it’s just Eddie having fun, being a little flirtatious, but something about it reminded him of when he’d been particularly emotional after the phone call with Wayne. How Eddie knew Steve was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he didn't have to anymore, and he thinks to himself that maybe, after everything, he could at least give him this. He looks up at him through his eyelashes and gives a coy smile and a little shrug. Eddie’s face completely lights up, and Steve sees him take a deeper breath. He strokes Steve’s jaw, pulls out the pyjama shirt, and starts dressing Steve, fussing a little more than he needs to, but intermittently, his eyes meet Steve’s and each time they do, he gives him an enormous smile. Right at that moment, watching Eddie mother-hen around him, that even with difficult conversations looming, things would be ok. That Eddie will take care of him, even if he can take care of himself, because, in their private moments like this, it's clear Eddie loves to do that. Never has to but wants to. Eddie enjoys taking care of things, of people, just like Steve does.

Cosily tucked up in bed whilst Eddie is in the bathroom, a slight pity creeps into Steve’s mind. He thinks about how Eddie probably didn't have the most fantastic start in life, how he thankfully ended up with Wayne, who, as Eddie stated himself, always needed something to take care of. It makes him wonder if that's why Eddie loves it. Finally, someone showed him not just care but love and the space to be himself, and in turn, he offered that to his Hellfire club members, probably countless others Steve didn't know, Steve and his friends, Wayne, Jack, Morgan, and it is on that name, his heart sinks a little. 

He thinks about Eddie being unable to have children of his own, and he wonders if he had ever considered other options or if it was something he still wanted to pursue. Sure, Eddie was wild sometimes, and he’d made mistakes, but Steve couldn't help but feel that the world was missing out on a fantastic Dad. But, before he gets a chance for his mind to delve into that further, Eddie jumps onto the bed, “What's a handsome guy like you doing in bed like this?” he says with a big grin and a silly eyebrow raise.

“Waiting for the most wonderful guy in the universe,” Steve replies, scooching closer to Eddie, who is pretending to look behind him.

“If he turns up, where can I hide?” Eddie says, acting worried, and Steve taps him playfully, making him laugh, “Alright, alright, I get it. It's me. I’m Mr Wonderful,” he says with a smile, flexing his biceps at Steve.

“Ah, my beautiful, brawny guy,” Steve teases, pinching Eddies face playfully, scooping his arms around him and trying to turn him over so Steve can curl up behind him, but Eddie resists.

Steve looks over at him, a little puzzled and worried, but Eddie gives him a sweet half-smile and, in a hushed voice, asks, “I was wondering if we could do something different, just for tonight?” Steve, happy to give Eddie anything he could possibly want, nods, returning his smile.

Eddie wiggles closer until his head rests in the middle of Steve’s chest, and he hums happily as Steve plants a kiss on the top of his head, holding him close. “So I can listen to it. Make sure it’s ok.” Eddie says quietly.

“My heart feels much better since you brought it home, honey. It's all yours. Always has been.” Steve says, and as Eddie's arm drapes over him, he closes his eyes slowly, letting sleep take him.

The song if you wanna hear it:

[red-eft]

for the ask meme - 1, 7, 10, 12, 24 aand 30 for adonis and ivy !

thank you for the ask! :>

adonis

1. does your oc have any motifs?

yep! his motifs are the night sky (secrecy), gold (royalty; his noble house), gunpowder (his weapon of choice is a pistol), and beetles- specifically dynastinae, because [redacted spoilers] :)

7. what is the thing your oc likes most about themselves?

he doesn’t like it at first, but he gets used to the traits of [redacted creature] that his body gains, he starts to like it. he feels stronger and more "himself." the traits his body gained include scale-like growths along his forearms, claws, a tail, improved sight, and sharper teeth.

he learns how to shapeshift these traits, too. he gets good at making himself stronger or prettier with them however he wants wjldsflk

10. what kind of music do they enjoy?

oh man. i've never thought about what the music in my post-apoc setting is like.. i'm just gonna go with modern music for now. he'd enjoy indie stuff..? maybe?

throwing a few songs out here that i could see him listening to: "the physical attractions" by the symposium, "i think i left the stove on" by hotel ugly, and "drive away" by the brummies/kacey musgraves. he's not used to super loud/energetic music, but he doesn't like music that's purely instrumental/too calm, either. he associates it with bad memories from growing up with that kind of music.

12. how well does your oc do in school?

adonis does okay. he might slack off in class or procrastinate his work, but at the end of the day, he gets it together well enough to pass. he might cheat during a test or two.

24. how does your oc handle the death of someone they know?

poorly. he runs away from it, both physically and metaphorically.

30. does your oc wish to be married someday?

he's not big on marriage. growing up, adonis was always told that he would be married off to someone from another noble house. that never happened, fortunately, but he still dislikes the idea of being tied to another person.

---------- ivy

1. does your oc have any motifs?

oh absolutely. her motifs are bones (death), the trefoil symbol (dark magic/radiation), the color green (associated w/ dark magic in my setting, also nature since she becomes a ranger, too). also mourning doves (associated with resilience in grief. also bc her last name is macroura).

7. what is the thing your oc likes most about themselves?

she loves that she's basically born to use dark magic (elven ability to use it + human resistance that elves lack). most half-elves don't inherit both those traits at once, which makes her very unique.

it really amuses her when she thinks about it. it makes her feel like she's doing "what she was meant for" when she studies dark magic.

10. what kind of music do they enjoy?

again, going to go for a modern music since idk anything about music in my world (rip).. she would definitely listen to mitski and lord huron. yes i am projecting this on her. but it fits her

12. how well does your oc do in school?

very well! if you put her, adonis, lorne, and cordelia in a classroom together, ivy would come out on top (though cordelia would be close). she performs especially well in science and history classes.

24. how does your oc handle the death of someone they know?

depends on the circumstances. if someone was sick for a long time, ivy will be accepting of it when it happens. she'll try to help everyone else feel better.

but if the death is unexpected, violent, or she's right there (or all three), ivy will lose herself in anger. if someone murdered her father in front of her, for example, then she would immediately try to kill the murderer using any means possible (such as acts of dark magic that she would normally be horrified to even consider using. spell of hemorrhage your lungs, etc.)

30. does your oc wish to be married someday?

yeah! she wants to marry cordelia.

[piecksz]

pet. | (m)

pairings: yelena x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, non con, oral sex (female recieving), fingering, intoxication, gun play, violence, slight degredation, explicit language

words: 2.3k+

summary: hange sends you to investigate her suspicions about yelena’s loyalty to the military, but unfortunately for you, she’s already ten steps ahead. 

You should have known better.

Maybe if you’d been more wary she wouldn’t have had the advantage, but you weren’t. Instead you’d been unsuspecting, accepting her blithe invitation to talk about military proceedings over a drink when it hadn’t been your original plan because Hange’s directives were simple. Suspicions had been propagating amongst the higher-ups that the anti-Marleyan volunteers were planning an underhanded coup, and at the forefront of the insurrection was their ringleader, Yelena.

Your orders were to meet with her and solicit information that could have given Hange and the rest of the authorities a lead, so you thought nothing unsavory of Yelena suggesting you two meet at a bar. She offered to cover the tab, and you figured it would be easier to seek out details if she had some alcohol in her system, but Yelena was observant, much more than you had been. She knew the basis for the occasion, and so she coaxed you into one glass after another until you’d grown so tipsy that you didn’t realize she never took one sip.

Afterwards, it didn’t take much effort to convince you to come back with her to her place, accommodation she’d been provided as a guest on Paradis. The minute she lured you inside with the promise to take care of you until you were sober, she seized your arm and forced it behind your back into a nearly impossible position. With the weight of her body, she drove you into the wall, effectively cornering you with the threatening barrel of her gun pressed into the underside of your jaw.

She lowered her mouth to your ear. “The military doesn’t trust me, do they?”

You only grunted in pain, pointlessly writhing in Yelena’s hold.

“And here I was thinking we were just starting to become friends.” She sighed. “They’re smart not to.”

You said nothing, already realizing it was futile to try and prove that you had no ulterior motives for meeting with her, she already knew everything you presumed she didn’t.

“At least I weeded out their pet.” She prodded the hollow cavity where your jawbone met your neck with the cold metal. “What do you say to becoming mine instead?” She thumbed over the gun’s cylinder, clicking the plate into place before teasing the trigger.

You sent her a malicious glower over your shoulder, eyes blazing with animosity. “Go fuck yourself.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at your rancorous choice of words, but her expression quickly melted into a duplicitous grin. “Is that a yes?” She nudged her gun against the side of your throat, an understated reminder that she still had the option to censor you with a single bullet.  

You stuck your chin out in resistance yet remained silent. Compliance was your only alternative, but nothing made you sicker than the thought of submission.

“Good girl,” Yelena chuckled. She released your arm and stepped back, continuing to stand with the firearm pointed in your direction. “Shirt and pants. Off.”

Her command was curt, and it had you carefully turning to face her. “Yelena—”

“Pets don’t talk.” She flicked her gun to the side, emphasizing her instruction. “I need to make sure you’re not concealing any weapons.”

You hesitated, but quivering fingers traveled to the buttons of your shirt, undoing each of them one by one. Your movements were slow while you tried to stall as much as possible. If you failed to report back to Hange in time, they would conclude that something in your job had gone awry, then they’d come looking for you.

“Faster.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed. She must have sensed your deliberate pace.

Calculating bitch.

You shrugged your shirt off, tossing it on the floor beside you before working yourself out of your pants and discarding them in the same heap.

“Happy?” You held your arms up, turning around once over so Yelena could see that you didn’t possess any visible weapons.

She flicked her wrist down to your feet. “Shoes too.”

Your irritated look slackened at her awareness, still, you slowly bent down, reaching your fingers into your boot until they closed around the smooth wooden handle of a switchblade. You pulled the weapon out, briefly considering the odds of successfully landing damage if you lunged at her from where you were. You decided against it, knowing that it would take less time for her to activate the trigger than it would for you to attack.

Yelena held her hand out, and you reluctantly pressed the blade into her palm. “It would be a shame if I cut you up with your own knife, wouldn’t it?” She snapped it open, studying its whetted edge with eagerness.

Your eyes widened at the mention of her threat, and you backed further up against the wall, arms wrapped about your body in a miserable attempt to offer yourself some decency.

“Don’t look so scared. I won’t.” She retracted the blade and slid it into her pocket. “I have other plans for you. You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know.”

“Or else?” you combated.

Yelena grinned with amusement. “Or else? Dauntless are we? I admire that.” She took a long stride, closing in on you with her imposing height. “You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know if you don’t want your brains on my wall.” She tapped her gun against your cheek.

“You’re not gonna kill me.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows at the way you underestimated her vice.

“Commander Hange and Captain Levi wouldn’t let you see the light of day.” You chuckled. “And after they’ve been such kind hosts to you, is that any way to repay them?”

She pretended to muse over your reasoning, and then she shrugged. “Should I get my information another way then?”

You tilted your head to the side, now at a loss for words. You drew your brows together and shook your head, unable to discern what she was hinting at.

“It was easy getting you this far.” Yelena’s rich voice was strangely comforting as she spoke into your ear, the melodic rhythm of her voice lulling you into relaxation. “Your heroism is cute Y/N, but you’re not as smart as you think you are.” She coiled a strand of your hair around her lithe fingers before her hands traveled down to your chest.

“You think all your decisions are yours, but they’re not.” Her touch trailed along your breastbone, ghosting over the skin of your stomach until she met the thin fabric of your underwear.

Your mouth ran dry at the feeling of Yelena’s fingers while they lingered along your waistband. You tried to protest, but your words were stilted.  

“Nothing is. Not even those thoughts in your head, someone put them there.” she whispered, dipping her hand into your underwear while pushing her gun’s end into your temple. She delighted in your afflicted expression, eyes welling with hot tears but still soundless. She skimmed over your clit lightly, watching how your body twitched in response, and she hummed at your quiet feedback before circling the sensitive swell of your cunt with her middle finger.

Fearful of grabbing Yelena’s hand to cease her movement, you cupped your unsteady hands over your mouth instead, trying to smother your panicked sobs.

Her fingers slid down to your pussy’s orifice, forcing just the tip of her finger in and growing amused at how your hole tightened desperately with every small ministration. “You’re merely a puppet on a string—easily controlled.” The mention of her last word had her pushing two fingers up into your entrance, eliciting a strident cry from you.

Yelena moved quickly, long and lean digits thrusting in and out of your hole while your body quivered under her commanding strokes. She worked you in steady pulls, curling her middle and ring finger up against the sensitive center of your core. Her movements were effortless and adroit, playing you like an instrument while listening to your airy whimpers of indulgence—the music.

“Not even a minute ago you hated me, but your lack of resistance says otherwise.” She sunk her fingers again until she was knuckle-deep.

Your feeble pleas for Yelena to stop suggested something entirely different from the way your wet and needy walls tightened around her touch while your vocalizations grew louder. You undulated your hips in tight, urgent circles, shameless in your pleasure until you felt your orgasm tickle the bottom of your spine. A sweaty hand slid over the lapels of Yelena’s blazer, gripping the fabric while you fought to keep yourself upright.

“Take my advice.” She brought her face closer to yours, lips hardly brushing over the streaks of tears that painted your cheeks. “Being so naive will only get you killed.”

She slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers covered in a gossamer layer of your arousal, and the sudden absence just as you had reached the cusp of your orgasm caused your pelvis to jolt. Through glossy eyes, you looked at her own, your hold on her jacket tightening. “Please—”

Your fingertips slid down to your clothed folds, gingerly skimming over the fabric to imply what you wanted. With a sober mind, you wouldn’t have dared admit that you were surrendering to the enemy, but the residual effects of the alcohol in your system blurred all your coherent thoughts, and all you could focus on was your desperation for a climax.

“Yelena, please—”

Yelena’s hand closed around your wrist, and she forcibly pulled you off of her. “Don’t beg. Have some self-respect.”

She withdrew her gun from your forehead, ungodly eyes never leaving yours. Her pinched expression relaxed back into her classic inscrutable appearance, and she slowly lowered herself onto her knees in front of you until the top of her blonde head just barely peeked over your midriff.

The sight of seeing her shorter than you for once would have been comical if it weren’t for the aching between your thighs that took priority.

Yelena wrapped an arm around the back of your knee, and hoisted your leg over her shoulder. The hand that clutched her gun pushed it into the curve of your hip bone, spawning a small whimper of discomfort from your throat.

She glanced up at you before leaning in and lolling her tongue out, delivering a long wet lick up from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh my god—” Your words were breathless and waned into a decadent purr as Yelena continued to circle the sensitive bud with the authoritative head of her pink tongue.

With a final and potent flick, she lapped your clit into her mouth, methodically oscillating between sucking and kissing your glistening cunt until she discovered the best combination to draw out the loudest moans. The fingers she dug into your thigh migrated to your backside and pressed into the skin of your ass instead. Yelena nudged you closer to her until her nose gently grazed the skin of your pelvis every time she shifted against your center.

You whimpered her name again while your restless hands slid over your chest, tugging at the sheer material of your bra and weighing your own breasts in your palms. “I’m—”

Yelena trailed down to your hole, teasing and prodding while she dragged her touch from behind. She rested her fingers against your clit, massaging it alongside her tongue’s performance to excite you into greater stimulation.

“Yelena—” You swallowed thickly. “I’m—close—”

Half-delirious with lust, the other half—inebriation, your hand settled behind her head and you rolled your lower body against her mouth, allowing the dual sensation of her fingers and tongue to send you over the edge. Your climax surfaced in two waves, first presenting itself as a tiny shiver that painted your skin in goosebumps, but the second had you crying out fervidly while your body descended into uncontrollable spasms.

“Yelena—fuck—”

Yelena continued to urge her tongue deeper, penetrating the depths of your cunt and relishing in the way your walls tightened around her slippery muscle before she withdrew from between your thighs.

The strength of your orgasm had your knees buckling, sending your back sliding down the wall until you collapsed on the floor. Your fingers scratched pathetically against the wood surface while you quivered from the aftershock of your climax, and your heavy breathing didn’t relent. You stirred briefly, drifting in and out of clarity until your eyes flitted open to see Yelena rising to her feet in a squatted position.

She observed you thoughtfully, her warped smile matching, yet at the same time contrasting, her seemingly kind eyes. It appeared she had discarded her previous plan to pry information out of you, and debriefing you wouldn’t have been worth the effort seeing as how you could hardly form an intelligible sentence.

Yelena reached out to grab your chin, forcing your lips to part wider with her thumb, just enough for her to slide the barrel of her gun into your mouth.

The metal was leaden against your tongue and it’s sharp flavor was unpleasant, making you tug your head in the opposite direction, but Yelena’s grip was unyielding. You looked onward at her as a new surge of tears flooded your waterline, and your helpless cries were muzzled by her weapon.

She rested the end of the barrel against the roof of your mouth before clicking the hammer and rotating another bullet into place.

You strung your eyes shut, waiting for the deafening sound of gunfire, quick pain, and then terrifying silence, but when nothing came, you carefully opened your eyes, wondering if you were already dead.

Rather, you were still met with Yelena’s squinting eyes, and she hummed before pulling her gun, now daubed with your saliva, from your lips. Her eyes drifted to the floor, and she stretched a hand out to grab your bundle of clothes from your side. She held them to your chest, and you hesitantly accepted them, hugging the articles to your stark frame, then Yelena rose to her feet, peering down at you with self-approving satisfaction.

“Give the military my best.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[lilyclawthorne]

Anyways now that we’ve been given this description

I wanna talk about what I think a rebellion against the emperor may look like and who exactly may already be involved. Of course I’m spitballing and guessing a LOT here so I could end up being very wrong but that’s what makes this so much fun. Also let me say I’m kinda glad there’s already one forming because I didn’t want that responsibility to fall on the kids.

Of course, we’ve all already guessed it, the special witch is probably going to be Rayne, Eda’s old friend/possible ex-lover. It makes sense because they’re from Eda’s past and we don’t know too many people from her past that are also likely to become increasingly relevant soon. It also seems they’ve been newly appointed to head of the bard coven. A member of a rebellion gaining a new position of power could be a key step in a rebellion’s plan. It could very well mean it’s time for next steps to be taken, such as recruiting new members, especially one like Eda who's probably considered a notable public figure at this point and will probably agree with the idea of rebellion. (I’m not so sure she’ll be down to actually participate now that she has a whole family to look out for)

Additionally, we don’t actually know much about bard magic, aside from it relating to music/instruments/storytelling etc. It doesn’t sound like a type of magic that could be a threat. However, in general, bards typically aren’t just entertaining, but they serve another more important purpose. They tell stories through song to preserve lore and history. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the bards that know the most truth about what life was like before Belos, and what happened when he came to power. So if the head of the bard coven is also a rebellion member, I wouldn’t be surprised to see some more bards learning the true history of the Boiling Isles and turning their allegiances away from the emperor. 

Now, bear with me here, but I also think the Blight’s could be involved with this rebellion. I think they’ve been playing the long game and have quietly sat and gained power and status for the time being. Now they have a full weapons company at their hands. They may suck, but unfortunately sometimes awful people have goals that align with the protagonists, and then you have to work with them (yeah i don’t love it either). Weapons and a full on abomination army would be helpful for a rebellion.  Also they have private demos for their company. Who are they trying to hide from?? My guess is the emperor and his coven, seeing how shocked they were to see GG come in, and even though Odalia said the emperor investing in the abomitons was great news, you can tell she sounds scared. In my opinion, what GG told them was a thinly veiled threat: you are creating a private army, you have one chance to back down now and give it to us or things will end badly for you.

Of course they’re not going to argue, they’re not in a position to. They have power, but not that much. They need more, which is why their long-term plans have Amity becoming a coven head. Only Amity has expressed the need to join the Emperor’s Coven, she’s told she needs to be the best and society says the EC is the best, but I think her parents just want her in the abominations coven so she can become the abominations head. It’d probably happen much faster than becoming head of the Emperor’s Coven anyways. They could be treating her like a pawn in their own rebellion game. Our kid will have power, so therefore we will have power is their mentality. Plus putting their own daughter in the middle of a rebellion and endangering her and not themselves is kinda cowardly and in character of them.

Additionally, I think the head of the Illusions coven is a Blight and is in on this as well (this is a complete and utter guess). So if you have the Bard, Illusions, and one day the Abomination heads on your side, that’s already a third of the coven heads. The idea here being, the more people who are on the side of the rebellion that we can get to become coven heads, the more of a chance we have at overthrowing the emperor. Perhaps staging a coup of sorts. After all, whole covens probably also look up to their heads, maybe they even pick them themselves. And if the head they love and chose sees an issue with their Emperor, maybe the people will be inclined to listen 

Of course, I don’t think Amity will ever get to the spot of coven head before the rebellion really begins. I’m thinking the rebellion would still be years away from happening if it wasn’t for Luz coming to isles, discovering ancient forms of magic, and showing to the people the Emperor is not as invincible as they may have once thought, and now it’s gonna be coming much much sooner.

[iturbide]

United in Song

okay so this has been in my drafts for I don’t even know how long and I’m tired of it sitting there collecting dust, so please enjoy this fluffy 3H platonic one-shot.

/////

If there was one thing Dorothea missed about the opera, it was the audience.  There was a certain kind of thrill that came with standing on the stage, staring out into the darkened crowd while the music swelled beneath her voice and feeling their tension, knowing that they held their collective breaths in anticipation, in wonder of her song…there was nothing else quite like it, in her experience.  And while she didn’t really want to go back to that life of endless practices and performances, of cutthroat rivalries and patrons as dangerous as they were wealthy, she felt a little pang standing in the Garreg Mach cathedral, singing her heart out for absolutely no one.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true.  The monastery choir had finally gotten a few more members, and as the nun in charge dismissed them for the day, Annette and Hilda hurried over before she could wander off.  “Wow, Dorothea!  You were really amazing!!” the little redhead gushed.

“Aw, thanks, Annie,” Dorothea giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.  “You were both great, too!”

“You’re so sweet,” Hilda smiled.  “But we couldn’t hold a candle to you!  Your voice was so beautiful -- and I swear, it filled the whole cathedral.”

Well, that might explain all the sharp looks and decrescendo gestures she’d been getting from the director.

“It’s really a shame nobody else was around to hear,” Annette sighed. 

“I know exactly what you mean.”  Dorothea scanned the rows of empty pews as they walked toward the doors, feeling again that ache of longing.  Even when they did get to stand before an audience, something told her they would just be the choral lead to a devotional hymn for some religious service or another.  “Sometimes I really wish we could just…go out and perform, you know?  Show off a little, hear the applause…”

“…well, why couldn’t we?”

Dorothea paused at the top of the steps, reeling her mind back from another stage dream to focus on Hilda.  “I didn’t think they did that here.”

“Not that I’ve seen.  Or heard about,” Annette agreed.

“So why not do something about it?” Hilda asked.  “Put on a musical performance!  There’s lots of places that would work, like the lawn outside the classrooms, or the walk along the dormitories…”

“Would that really bring in an audience, though?” Annette pointed out.  “Back in Fhirdiad you’d see performers doing shows on street corners, but they never really drew crowds or anything.”

“And wouldn’t it be nice to have a real stage, and a real audience?” Dorothea sighed.  It was a quiet walk across the bridge to the monastery…and the whole way, she just kept turning Hilda’s suggestion over and over.  It really would be nice to have an opportunity to perform…maybe she could ask Professor Manuela about it--

“This is it!!”

Dorothea jumped at Annette’s excited squeak, whirling just in time to see her grab something off the Bulletin Board.  “What is?” she asked, taking the parchment and smoothing it out. 

“A flier for the Weapons Tourney?” Hilda read over her shoulder.  Apparently this month’s challenge was for axe-wielders, and while the pink-haired noble might excel, something told Dorothea that she wouldn’t go anywhere near it without proper incentive from the Professor.

“No!  …well, I mean, yes, that’s what it is, but I mean -- this is the answer!  We have a music tournament!”

“…a music tournament?” Dorothea repeated.

“Yeah!” Annette giggled.  “We could have sign-ups, and people could bring their instruments or sing, and it could have brackets just like they do in the training grounds, only they’d be competing with their music!  And the audience response could be how the winner’s picked!”

Dorothea felt a smile dawn across her face.  “…Annie, that’s brilliant!  We could get a sponsor to help judge ties, and offer a grand prize for the winner…”

“We could make fliers the way they do for the training ground matches, too!” Hilda added.

“I bet if we ask around the monastery, we could get tons of sign-ups -- and I’m sure lots of people would want to see it!” Annette insisted.  “Ooh, this is so exciting!!”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Dorothea agreed.  “And I’m sure if we join forces, we can make it into a dazzling show.”

As they put their heads together to plan, for the first time in ages, she felt a thrill of excitement for what lay ahead.  Garreg Mach might not have much appreciation for music now -- but if they got their way, Dorothea would make sure that changed.

-----

“A music show?  Oh, you mean like they’ve got at the fair?  Hey, count me in!  Are you gonna have snacks?”

“No, Raph,” Dorothea sighed. 

“You sure?  Everybody likes good food -- I bet you’d get a ton of people to come if they could eat while they watched.”

She shook her head, fighting back a smile.  It was hard to be frustrated with him when he was so enthusiastic, but she did wish he’d think about more than food.  “Do they have snacks for the weapon tournaments at the training grounds?”

“Heck yeah they do!” he laughed.  “I never miss a tourney, they’ve always got something for the people in the stands…”

“…huh.”  She hadn’t known that.  Maybe they could ask about refreshments: after all, everything else had been going splendidly so far.  Professor Manuela had been over the moon when they approached her with the idea, and had swiftly appointed herself as their ‘impartial’ judge (said with a wink that made Dorothea certain she was far more partial than she’d ever admit to being); while the former diva took to planning and preparations, including venue selection and construction, she left the three students in charge of gauging interest and getting early sign-ups so they could start preparing their brackets.  Hilda, rather expectedly, had complained of feeling poorly, so Dorothea had agreed to help out in canvasing the Golden Deer…which had led her, rather unexpectedly, to Raphael and his surprisingly helpful suggestion.

“Alright,” she agreed, making a note for later.  “I’ll see what we can do about snacks, then.”

“All right!!” he cheered.  “You’re the best, Dorothea!”

“Aw, thank you,” she smiled.  “But would you want to take part?  You know, be up on the stage in front of the audience?  We’re looking for any kind of musical talent, whether you sing or play an instrument…”

His face scrunched up for a minute in deep, somewhat painful-looking thought.  “Hmmm…I’m mostly good for muscle,” he shrugged.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love music!  I’m just not much good at makin’ it -- oh, hey, have you asked Bernadetta yet?”

“Bernie?”

“Yeah!  Oh, man, she’s got this little brass thingy she plays -- she was playin’ it in the greenhouse one day, an’ I heard it from all the way in the training grounds!  It was the best thing I’d ever heard!”

“Interesting,” Dorothea mused, scribbling another little note down.

“You didn’t know?”

“Bernie’s pretty shy about her talents,” Dorothea confided.  “Seems she’s got all kinds of hidden ones…”

“Uh…if you go ask her, can you maybe…not tell her I told you?” he asked nervously.  “See, uh…she got pretty upset when I found out, and made me promise not to tell anybody, but then you came talking about music an’ stuff and I just got real excited about maybe seein’ her up there an’ hearin’ it again, so…”

“Oh, Raph, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she giggled.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Dorothea,” he beamed.  “You really are the best.”

-----

“M-music show?  Me?  Perform!?  How did you find out?  Did Raphael tell you!?” Bernadetta demanded through the tiny crack between the doors of her room.

“Raphael?  I haven’t talked to him,” Dorothea lied.  “Hilda’s asking around with the Golden Deer, since they’re her classmates, just like Annette’s asking the Blue Lions and I’m asking all my fellow Eagles.  We’re trying to get a list together of students who want to take part.  Do you have any musical talents, Bernie?”

“N-n-no!” she stammered.  “Nope, not me, Bernie’s just good for staying out of the way, yes indeed…”

“I think you’re good for a lot more than that,” Dorothea insisted.  “I know you’ve got so much talent, and it’s such a shame to hide it all away.  Maybe you sing in here, or play an oboe when we’re all away from the dorms…”

“Trumpet,” the archer mumbled.  “B-but I could never get up in front of so many people!”

“Oh, but from on stage, under the lights, you can’t even see most of the audience -- and wouldn’t it be great to share all that talent with the whole academy?”

“Maybe for you!” the archer squeaked.  “All those people out there in the dark, staring at me, and no place to hide?  That s-sounds terrifying!”

…Dorothea actually hadn’t thought about that.  She was so used to basking in the attention…but that would be scary for someone as shy as Bernadetta.  “That’s okay,” she smiled.  “You don’t have to.  But…would you maybe come to watch?  Ferdie and I have already signed up to take part, and we could always use someone to cheer for us.”

“…m-maybe,” came the muffled reply.

“And if you do change your mind about being on stage, you know we’ll both be cheering you on, right?” she coaxed.  “Annette even told me that Felix promised to come watch the performances, and you know how he feels about everything that isn’t training.  We’d all really love it if you joined in.”

Silence from the other side of the doors.  Had she pushed too hard…?

“I’ll…I-I’ll think about it.”

Beaming, Dorothea made a note on her sign-up sheet.  “That’s all we’d ask for.  Just let me know, okay?”

And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard the smallest sound of agreement before the doors clicked firmly shut between them. 

-----

Even in her fantasies, Dorothea never could have dreamed things would go this well.  Not only did they get enough sign-ups to make a full five-round bracket, the whole monastery was buzzing with anticipation days before the event.  It reminded her a little of Enbarr the week before a Mittelfrank production, where every group she passed on the street seemed to be talking about the upcoming show -- whether it was about their excitement to see the spectacle or despair over not getting one of the endlessly coveted (and frightfully limited) tickets.  Here, thankfully, seating was hardly an issue, since Professor Manuela had managed to secure the Reception Hall for the event: the whole student body could fit there with standing room to spare, even with the stage taking up the front quarter.

Come the morning of the show, posters listing the contestants appeared on every bulletin board, and Dorothea scanned the starting matches before the thought of breakfast even occurred to her.  She recognized more than a few names: Ferdinand of course, and herself (naturally), as well as Lorenz (unfortunately), Hilda, Annette, and even Bernie.

It was all so exciting, she could hardly bear it.

Time crawled by while she waited for the tournament to begin.  Before noon she’d warmed up, improvised a few little tunes as practice, and rehearsed a few of her favorite songs in preparation.  By the time the Reception Hall opened to the competitors, she’d chosen her starting and ending arrangements and decided on the pieces she would use if she faced any real competition.  And once the doors opened and the audience began to crowd into the available seats, she felt her heart begin to race in anticipation of what was soon to come. 

She didn’t even mind that she had to wait.  The first match, to her delight, featured Annette and Bernie: blushing fiercely, the little red-head made her way cheerfully through an obviously original tune, while Dorothea’s fellow Eagle stuck to a familiar Imperial melody, squeezing her eyes shut tight and playing her trumpet at the stage rather than the audience.  In spite of that, it was a remarkable performance, and Bernie might have won just by virtue of Raphael’s enthusiastic applause -- but his thunderous cheer startled the poor recluse and sent her bolting from the stage before the match could be officially declared, forfeiting her chance to proceed.  But that might have been for the best, she supposed: Bernie clearly wasn’t big on the spotlight. 

The rest of the first round and all of the second went smoothly enough.  Though she didn’t bother watching every pair, she saw both Ferdinand and Annette proceed on to the quarterfinals, while Hilda lost to Lorenz in her second bout (though the noblewoman hardly seemed bothered by the loss).  Dorothea’s own matches barely required any effort on her part to win: she’d spent so long practicing her favorite songs from her favorite operas in the days leading up to this competition, but a few simple melodies were all it took to ensure that she made it through the preliminaries.  Even against her third opponent, all it took was the chorus from an Adrestian folksong to seal her victory...though Annette lost her own bout against Ferdinand in the same round.  Dorothea congratulated her all the same, and promised to win for Annie’s sake -- perhaps a bold promise from anyone else, but one that the former Mittelfrank diva felt assured she could keep.

And sure enough, in the semifinals she not only faced her fellow Eagle but beat him handily with one of the arias she’d so carefully prepared.  He lost quite gracefully, too, applauding her as enthusiastically as the audience itself and conceding even before Profesor Manuela could announce the final judgment.  And with the round done, Dorothea made her way back behind the stage, humming to herself as she waited for the intermission to end and the finals to begin…

“Congratulations on sweeping the competition, Dorothea.”

She paused, turning to see the leader of the Golden Deer House grinning at her from a few feet away.  Mustering up a pleasant enough smile, she offered a nod in greeting.  “Why, thank you, Claude.  Are you here to wish Lorenz well before I crush him?”

The nobleman blinked.  “Why would I do that?  Lorenz got knocked out in the last round.” 

Dorothea stared at him for a long, silent moment.  “To who?” she demanded, hunting about for a bracket that might give her an answer--

“...me, actually.”

Slowly, carefully, she turned again to face the leader of the Golden Deer.  “Guess you weren’t watching the match,” he chuckled, hefting an odd lute-like instrument.  “Lorenz was...less than thrilled with the outcome, if it helps.”

Actually, it just made her regret all the more that she hadn’t paid attention: she’d been looking forward to seeing his face when he finally lost.  “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for you, too, then,” she said, turning away from him again.  “May the best musician win.”

“Oh, uh...about that.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he drummed his fingertips along the neck of his instrument.  “I was...well.  I was wondering how you’d feel about calling it a draw.”

A thin smile carved its way across her face.  “Are you that confident you can beat me, Claude?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.  “I have no doubt that you’d mop the floor with me.”  She felt sure he was flattering her -- but she waited all the same, watching his grin soften almost shyly, though it still didn’t quite touch his eyes.  “I was just...hoping I could perform with you, instead of having to compete against you.  Y’know, everything here at the monastery is about pitting us against each other: the weapon tourneys, the fishing competition, and now this...I feel like we could put on a better show working together than we could separately trying to one-up each other.  You can have the prize, too, if you want,” he added.  “Pretty sure you’d win it anyway, but...what do you say?”

Beyond the curtain, she heard Professor Manuela take the stage again and announce the final round to the audience.  Claude only watched Dorothea, though, seeming content to be patient and wait for her even as their names rang out over the wild cheering of the crowd.

And at last she smiled, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.  “How are you at improvising with that lute of yours?”

“If you can sing a few bars, I can probably make something work,” he grinned. 

“Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, bowing playfully before offering his arm to her.  Returning the gesture with a teasing curtsy of her own, Dorothea accepted -- and they walked out onto the stage together, applause washing over them in waves of wondrous sound.  They parted smoothly, Claude taking up his instrument and strumming a few notes to ensure it was properly in tune before looking expectantly to her, waiting for her lead; Dorothea turned her own attention to the darkness, savoring the anticipation of the shadowed audience before her...and finally beginning to sing, the somber melody echoing throughout the crowded reception hall. 

“Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away, Into the dawn, oh I wish I could stay…”

A soft chord joined in, the notes as sweet and clear as her own...and yet it did not overpower her voice: instead it seemed to carry the words higher, elevating the music in ways she had not heard since she left the Mittelfrank Opera House.  She did not falter, though: instead she continued, allowing a smile to creep into her voice as she sang.

“Here in cherished halls, in peaceful days I fear the edge of dawn, knowing time betrays…”

“Is this really gonna be the last song we do?” Claude asked, his voice carrying out into the dark and startling her back to reality.  “Come on, Dorothea, we’ve gotta liven it up a little!”

Even as he spoke, his fingers flew over the strings, keeping the key but tumbling into a bright, rousing accompaniment.  He winked at her when she turned to stare at him, repeating the same refrain in invitation...and though she’d only ever heard the piece as a wandering lament before, she could not deny his compelling harmony. 

Their music rang through the reception hall, her voice rising into the rafters on the strum of lute strings...and for the first time since she’d come to the Officer’s Academy, Dorothea felt that familiar, wonderful thrill again as the enraptured crowd watched them perform their duet on the stage.  

-----

In the fortnight following the tourney, Dorothea had become the most popular girl in Garreg Mach.  It seemed like every young man, noble birth or otherwise, wanted a moment of her time, a scrap of her attention...and, of course, a chance to hear her sing again.  

While they’d agreed to a draw before ever taking the stage, Claude had gracefully conceded when Professor Manuela declared Dorothea the winner.  It had bothered her when it happened -- all the more for how she couldn’t correct the matter over the riotous applause -- and try as she might over the intervening days, she’d still been unable to set the record straight with anyone she spoke with (aside from Hilda, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear it).  But strangest of all was the fact, despite now having an audience eager to hear her perform again...she couldn’t find that thrill anymore.  It had been there while she was on stage with Claude, but in every performance since -- no matter how many people she had hanging on her every note -- she just felt the same hollow sort of yearning she had in the cathedral before all of this began. 

Dorothea sighed as she made her way out of the dining hall, taking the stairs down to the fishing pond and wandering toward the dormitories.  All the attention did get tiring after a while; luckily the grounds seemed deserted this afternoon, and she stretched her arms high as she tipped her head back, breathing in the crisp autumn air while the sun warmed her face and the soft sound of music drifted by…

She stopped, scanning the lawn and the path along the row of dorms.  No one was there that she could see, but she could hear the strum of lute strings; she hurried on, listening to the music grow louder and louder until she felt certain she was close -- but the sound was too clear to be coming from behind the closed doors, and there was still no one around that she could see.  “Claude?” she called, raising her voice as much as she dared. 

The music stopped.  “Dorothea?” the nobleman’s voice replied -- not from beside or behind her, but from above.  

Tilting her head back and shading her eyes, she stared at the young man peering at her over the eaves of the dormitory roof.  “What are you doing up there?” she asked. 

“Playing,” he said. 

“How did you even get up there?  And why are you playing on the roof, for that matter?”

“It’s complicated,” he shrugged.  “...well, alright, it’s not that complicated, but...should I come down so we can talk?”

Dorothea opened her mouth to agree...and paused.  “...I could always come up,” she offered.  

A grin twitched across his face.  “I’ll meet you at my room, then,” he laughed, waving before disappearing from view.  Hurrying back down to the greenhouses, she turned into the stairwell leading to the second floor of dorms where most of the noble students stayed; at the top of the steps, she saw Claude poke his head out into the hall, beaming at the sight of her.  Smiling despite herself, Dorothea hurried over and ducked past him without even thinking...and as he closed the doors, she stifled a giggle at the sight of his room.  

She had seen cluttered her share of dorms before -- Linhardt’s came immediately to mind -- but she’d never seen anything quite like this, with books taking up half the bed, papers spilling off the desk and onto the floor, and shelves cluttered with a mix of plants, vials, and strange brass instruments she couldn’t identify.  Claude seemed briefly puzzled by her reaction...though, after another moment, he rather sheepishly began gathering up the parchment piled on his chair to give her a place to sit.  “So what can I do for you?” 

“Well, first of all I’d like to know how you got onto the roof,” she replied.  “And off it so fast, for that matter.”

He quirked one eyebrow in apparent surprise.  “What, that?  It’s easy.”  Dropping the papers in a haphazard pile on the desk, he stepped up onto the wide ledge beneath the open window, leaning out into empty space and stretching one arm up...

Claude jumped. 

Dorothea lunged for him, knowing already it was too late -- but he did not fall.  She stumbled into the sill, gaping as he effortlessly pulled himself up out of sight; crawling up onto the ledge, she cautiously poked her head out the window...and saw him lean out over the eave, grinning down at her from his perch.  “That doesn’t look easy to me,” Dorothea pointed out. 

“It just takes some practice,” he laughed.  “Want to come up?  The view’s great,” he added, reaching a hand down to her. 

The sensible, logical, rational part of her brain insisted that she’d rather not break her neck trying to get a nice view of the monastery...even as she extended her own arm, gripping his wrist and feeling him hold fast.  She heard the instructions he gave her -- she was more than certain of that, since she never would have done this on her own -- but whatever he’d said escaped her the moment she stepped off the ledge into empty air, clutching tight to Claude’s wrist even as his pleasant laughter rang in her ears.  In the end he did most of the work pulling her up beside him...but once she caught her breath and her heart stopped feeling like a bird trying to escape its cage, she had to admit that he was right: the campus was lovely from so high up. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, patting her shoulder gently. 

“Better, I think,” she agreed, scooting further back from the edge.  “So, that explains how you got up here -- now why are we here?”

“Well, in my case it’s because it’s a nice day, I don’t have anything going on, and I’m tired of dealing with Lorenz, so I figured I’d come up here and play a bit.  He can yell all he wants from down there, but I’m not stopping unless he gets on this roof to make me.”  As he spoke, he removed the lute strapped to his back, strumming a few notes and idly beginning to tune it again.  “But what brings you up here?”

“Well...actually, I was looking for you,” she admitted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.  “I haven’t seen much of you since the music tourney.”

“You’ve been busy,” he winked. 

Dorothea rolled her eyes, leaning back against the slightly pitched roof.  “Don’t remind me,  I needed to get away from it for a while.”

“Really?  I thought you’d be happy about all the attention.”

“I was at first,” she sighed, “and it’s been wonderful to have more chances to sing, but…”

She trailed off, watching a few wispy clouds wandering across the pale blue sky.  After a moment, the quiet strum of lute strings fell silent; glancing over at the nobleman, she found him watching her with interest, his head canting slightly to one side as he gestured for her to continue.  “It...doesn’t feel like I thought it would.  Back in the opera, it was always so grand and emotional, singing to an audience -- I loved that feeling, and it’s one of the things I’ve missed most since I left.  I’d hoped the competition would bring it back, and singing with you I found it again, but...I haven’t felt it since.  I’ve been feeling guilty about the way it ended up, and…”

“Hey, I said from the start that you’d mop the floor with me in a competition,” he laughed.  “I don’t mind.  I’m glad I got the chance to perform with you -- that was my prize.”  

“Be serious,” she huffed.  “I’m trying to apologize!”

“And I’m saying you don’t have to -- it’s not like you had a say in Professor Manuela deciding on a winner.”

“But if I don’t get it sorted out, how am I supposed to enjoy singing like I used to?”

“Are you sure guilt is what’s keeping you from it?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him.  “What do you mean?”

“You said that you haven’t felt that thrill since you left the opera.  You didn’t get it again until the finals, right?”  She nodded in agreement.  “And then after the finals it was gone again?”  Again, she nodded in agreement.  “So what was different about the finals, compared to everything before and after?”

“The drama of the grand finale?” she offered. 

“Well, that, too,” he chuckled, “but you weren’t performing alone, either: your melody had a harmony.”

Dorothea scoffed at the notion.  “That seems…”

She trailed off as Claude leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands.  She hadn’t thought of it like that before, but...her fondest memories from the opera were of performances with accompaniment: grand arias carried by a full orchestra, soft odes lilting over quavering strings.  “...possible,” she conceded. 

“So maybe what you were really looking for was a chance to sing with somebody, instead of going it alone or singing over them.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m so selfless,” she giggled.  “Really, I just wanted an audience.”  But even so, that final performance with him, building on one another’s leads and creating something far grander and more beautiful than Dorothea could have done alone...it had brought with it a familiar, delightful frisson. 

“Well, I know I had more fun playing with you than I did taking Lorenz down a peg -- and I really enjoyed that,” Claude laughed, strumming his lute again, “and I, for one, would be honored to reprise the performance -- though, fair warning, I can’t promise a crowd this time around.”

“You know, I am free this afternoon,” she grinned.  He beamed back at her, picking a cheerful tune on his lute strings -- an Adrestian folksong she recognized instantly; as she started in on the first verse and their duet drifted out over the quiet campus, she felt the thrill lift her heart again...and maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore Claude’s smile finally reached his eyes.

[acephysicskarkat]

Duet

I was just packing up from practicing in my garage when Rosetta shot bolt upright.

Rosetta’s my dragon.  She’s mostly a blue, but there aren’t any blue breeds that are crestbacks, so there’s definitely some other stuff in there.  Her crest is also malformed, so it flops over to the right all the time instead of standing straight up like crests are supposed to.  When I got my undercut, I made sure it flopped over to the right as well, so we matched.  She seems to appreciate the ‘do when she’s riding on my shoulder.

Anyway, Rosetta’s awesome. Smarter than some people I’ve met, although to be fair I’ve met some really dumb people.  Also, I’ve managed to teach her to play the drums.  Some dragons have an amazing sense of music.

In this case, though, she’d apparently heard something in the bushes – yes, even though we’d both just been rocking out for the last twenty minutes.  I don’t know how her ears work.  I put down my electric guitar and went to have a look…

…and found a white dragon.

I looked up a lot of dragon breeds when I was a kid and obsessed with them, so I recognised him as a purebred at once.  Specifically, he was a seraph – a rare and very expensive featherwing breed, with a long, wavy feather sticking out the back of his head like a ponytail.

“Hey there, little guy,” I said, keeping my voice gentle and sing-song – at least, as far as I could. “Someone’s gotta be missing you. Come on, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

Cold fangs nipped at my fingers, but after a few moments, the newcomer seemed to decide I could be trusted.  A heart-shaped tag on a simple but expensive-looking collar told me that this was Ludwig, and gave an address.  Needless to say, it was on the rich side of town; if you lived anywhere else, getting a seraph would probably leave you in a cardboard box.

“You up for a trip, little buddy?” I said, and  Ludwig hopped up onto my wrist.  “Great. Let’s go find your owner.”

***

The house Ludwig’s collar pointed me at wasn’t the biggest in the district, but since my house is basically six rooms including the garage, which doesn’t even have a car in it, it still made my place look like a shoebox.  And here I was carrying a dragon probably worth as much as a car.

Some low, shitty part of me whispered that I should just run away and sell the thing, but I felt the comforting weight of Rosetta on my shoulder and shut that thought down.  I knew how I’d feel if Rosetta went missing. I wasn’t going to inflict that on anyone, not even for a big sack of money.

I was just about to knock on the door when it swung open and all my brain’s resources were assigned to Being Gay simultaneously.

She was gorgeous. Blue eyes, a tight ponytail of night-dark hair, wearing a tailored shirt and elegant pants, carrying a handbag that probably cost more than anything I’d ever owned and holding a bundle of Missing Dragon posters with Ludwig’s picture on them and the legend “IF FOUND, CALL GWYNEIRA” and a number I couldn’t quite make out.  Standing there in my leather jacket, pride pins on full display, an old skirt, hand-repaired glasses and big, tough boots, I felt like a nail driven into a classical painting.  I had no business being here and I knew it.

After a frozen second, her face broke into a smile.  “You found him!  Thank you so much!”

“Uh.”  My brain whirred for a few agonisingly slow seconds, and then some parts of it kicked into gear.  “He was hanging around my garage.  Must have heard my music and thought it sounded interesting.”

“Oh, a fellow musician!” she said.  “What instrument, pray tell?”

“Well, I dabbled when I was a kid, but these days I mostly stick with the axe.”

“Axe?  You mean a weapon?”

“No, I mean an electric-” A stray neuron sparked back to life. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

She gave a too-innocent wide-eyed look and then started laughing.  After a few moments, I did too.

She reached out, and Ludwig hopped across from my wrist to hers.  She waggled a finger under the dragon’s snub little nose and said, “I hope you won’t be pulling any more disappearing acts, Ludwig.”  Ludwig gave a smug, catlike smile and hopped up to her shoulder, and she turned back to me, reaching into her bag.  “I didn’t have time to put the posters up, but I was planning to give a reward for finding him-”

Take the money, Vetra, you dumbass, the parts of my brain that were functioning said.  Your amp is so old it was designed for the mandolin. Take the money, stick it in a jar, and when you have enough money, buy an amp that isn’t held together with baling twine.

Then my mouth, operating entirely independently from those parts, said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”  When my treacherous head nodded, she said, “Then at least allow me to buy you dinner.”

***

I was crammed into the only halfway decent dress I owned and had eaten something about half the size of an actual proper meal, but somehow I was still having a great time.

“So then we found the drummer hanging from the tree, in his underwear, rope around his ankle, and all he had to say when we let him down was, ‘I hate chipmunks.’”  Gwyneira choked back a laugh, and I shook my head.  “The band didn’t last long after that, although the bass player still crashes on my couch when he’s in town.”

“Such an…adventurous lifestyle,” she said, and sipped her wine.  

“But I’ve probably rambled long enough.”  I stabbed what I had been assured was the correct fork into a too-small morsel of chicken and said, “You said you were a musician, but you haven’t even told me what instrument.”

“Oh, how rude of me.” She cut a slice off…well, I don’t speak French, so whatever it was she was eating, and said, “I’m a violinist.”

“Huh.  Just as a hobby, or-”

“Professionally.”  She adjusted the cuffs on her suit, an outfit choice that was just deeply unfair.  “Have you ever studied much classical music?”

Show her how smart you are.  “Tell the truth, uh…I never really got into it.  I like my music with a bit more impact to it, you know?”  I mimed shredding on the air guitar.  Nailed it.

“I think I can show you plenty of impact,” she said, her delicate features arranged into a cocky smirk. “Come to my place tomorrow afternoon, and bring your…‘axe’.”

***

Rosetta took a deep breath and spat lightning into the amplifier.  For some reason, dragon thunder-breath doesn’t just charge a battery; it keeps it charging.  I scratched her behind the ear, and she grinned up at me, then spread her wings and soared over to the drums.

Ludwig raised his head from the piano, and Gwyneira started to play.

Notes didn’t fall from the violin; they rose, soaring into the air like birdsong.  Her voice, just as high and pure, mingled with it, underscored but never challenged by the slow, measured notes of Ludwig on the piano.

It was beautiful, but I wasn’t just here to listen.

I was here to play.

As the notes from the violin started to die away, I flicked my plectrum between my fingers like an old-time riverboat hustler playing with a coin.  Rosetta chose the tempo, her bunched-up claws striking the drums, a drumstick wrapped in her tail striking a cymbal, and my axe sang as I began: not the high, pure note of birdsong, but the howl of an iron wolf.

After a few bars, the piano started up again, but without its previous dignity and reserve.  Ludwig, apparently, relished the chance to cut loose a bit.  His claws struck the keys with speed rather than precision, keeping up with the beat of the drum and the snarl of the electric guitar, mixing in the occasional, perfectly timed glissando.

Then the violin’s song started up again.

Gwyneira’s eyes were closed, but she was keeping up with the much faster tempo like she was born to it, her bow dancing over the strings.  Her violin and my guitar weaved notes around each other, twining together like the tails of dragons in love.  It was like we were instinctively opening spaces for the other to slip into, letting the instruments work together rather than battle for dominance.

It was the kind of jam session you usually only get once in a lifetime.

***

Anyway, that’s how I met my girlfriend.

I own some nicer clothes, now.  I speak a little French.  And, you know, I’m starting to get along with classical music.  I mean, give me the faster ones any day – you should hear my cover of Rondo Alla Turca on the electric guitar, it’ll knock your socks off – but, you know, we meet halfway.

And I mean halfway.  Gwyneira looks like a goddess in anything, but when she’s let her hair out of its ponytail?  When she’s at a rock concert, just letting it all out, headbanging along? It’s amazing.  She’s amazing.

There have been challenges – you try finding good homes for an entire clutch of half-seraph, half-mongrel dragon hatchlings sometime – but we’re going pretty damn well.  She’s even talked about starting a proper band – weaving classical and rock together.

And if that never comes to pass?  If we can’t get a gig or find a good rhythm guitar?  At least we can still jam together.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 27

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mention of weapons 

A/N:  more musical references ... who would’ve thought? but now i’m also adding disney references bc referencing is my passion (unless it’s for essays, then screw referencing). also i’m very sorry for being late with this chapter something happened last night and i couldn’t finish it. i hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six ...  - a choir of two voices echoed through the reading room in the Forrest household with one being significantly deeper while the other much higher and almost baby like. However if asked, Y/N would solely deny that being.5 made her a baby and she would constantly put five fingers up in pride of her young age. Accompanying the two voices, there was the soft sound of the very old piano which had been with the Forrest family for more than a century - sept, huit, neuf.

   - Fantastic. Play the last three notes for me by yourself this time. - Daniel smiled at the much younger Y/N dressed in a hand-me down white ruffled dress with her hair pushed out of the way by a velvet white string. Y/N giggled, her babyish laughter echoing through the room before she could concentrate on the keys of the piano, her fingers pressing the same combination as just before. 

   - Sept, huit, neuf ... Sept, huit, neuf. - her fingers played through the keys as her still very badly spoken French came through but that was the life of a lady who was to grow up to stand next to an heiress; educated in the arts and languages, polite and classic, a picture and reflection of true perfection. Fake it until you make it, it’s what her governess told her constantly. - Sept, huit, neuf. 

  - One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. - Daniel joined in with a lower key, quickly playing through the keys and ending at the nine making Y/N smile in relief. Whenever he changed to English it normally meant the lesson was over and while Y/N loved music, she didn’t enjoy it for three hours straight in the early morning. - You know birdie, whenever you don’t wanna be somewhere try to pretend you do.

  - It’s too early. - she whined, head leaned against the keys of the very expensive shiny black instrument. 

  - Alright, birdie, go on a do whatever it is you do in your free time.

Before he could even shut down the piano’s hood, Y/N was already on her feet, the small sounds of new tiny shoes becoming further and further as she exited the reading room and bolted towards the attic. At 5 years old, the young handmaid had mastered a way to get the high door open by using two tennis rackets tied together with one of her hair strings. After doing this, the stairs came collapsing down allowing her to climb them into the attic. 

Looking around like a squirrel afraid of being caught, she returned to the pile of boxes she had found when she was rummaging through whatever had been left there. She wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to or what it was but she was convinced that it was filled with something that looked pretty enough to belong to a princess. Opening the first box she came face to face with a gold coloured head piece. Curiously, she grabbed it from the box rushing over to a pretty old mirror with already dark spots and a bit of browning. Curiously, she lifted up the headpiece, placing it on her head. Her eyes seemed to wander around her reflection before the headpiece started to slide down, a bit too big of her. Before it could reach the floor, however, Y/N grabbed it, noticing a few letters on the in the piece. 

 - Y/N, the French tutor is here. 

 - I’m going. 

Y/N watched as Sebastian in awe as he cooked her cheese toastie. Sure, a cheese toastie wasn’t a culinary masterpiece and it was the furthest thing from being a hard task, still she was just entranced by the sight imagining what things could be. Dreaming is a dangerous two edged swords allowing you to envision everything your heart desires yet having the power to keep it as further yet close enough to reach but never have. She could almost see it, she could almost see and hear the future that would never be. With eyes wandering to the piano in the living room, she could see and hear being sat at the piano teaching her child how to play while Sebastian made his cheese toasties in the kitchen. Yet again dreams aren’t reality, reality is much more bitter and unforgiven. 

    - Look at that, unburned. - Sebastian slide a perfectly white porcelain plate towards her containing the delicious snack. 

    - I’m rather scared that burning is your only evaluating tool for cooking. - she tried to hold in a little child-like smile but her muscles had more strength. - Thank you.

    - Well, angel, unless you can cook better than me I believe you have no right in criticising. - he took a seat very close to her, choosing to instead stare at her rather than eat along with her. At that comment Y/N scoffed, giving him a look that made him question his statement and wonder if she was some sort of hidden stellar cook. 

   - I would say I can, at least, cook better than you. 

   - What can’t you do? You’re like this untouchable Edwardian woman. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is so effortlessly ready to be in high society.

   - I don’t belong in high society. - she seemed to stare blankly at the wall of the kitchen and how perfectly straight the back splash had been placed. Every single square perfectly placed yet not noticeable by its own, unless bringing perfection to the whole piece itself. - You just have to pretend you do. No one in this business is gonna give their daughter up to be standing next to someone who’s bound to inherit an empire ... you said yourself, if they shoot at an heiress they’ll shoot at you too. It’s more like picking someone off the street and dressing them up just good enough that you believe they’re untouchable. 

   - You don’t give yourself enough credit. 

   - I think you just see me through rose coloured glasses. - she took a bite off the sandwich. - You know what? That’s pretty good. 

   - Thanks, angel. - he kissed the top of her head. - Hey, how about we do something you really like tonight? 

   - No. - she held his hand. - Let’s do something you like to do. We never do something you like to do, why don’t you pick?

   - Angel, I don’t think you’d enjoy it. 

  - It can’t be that bad. - she put what was left from the sandwich in the plate, wiping her hands clean from the grease. -  You do what I want all the time. 

  - I like making you happy, angel. - he leaned towards her, placing a soft and quick kiss on top of her nose. - Besides, you haven’t made me do anything particularly torturous. 

  - No. - she crossed her arms at him, jumping from her high seat. - We are doing something you like doing tonight. 

  - Okay, angel. Let’s go then. 

There was no denying her, or at least he hadn’t built a backbone to deny her yet. Nevertheless, he took her back to the garage yet instead of walking into the unit they had just been in, both of them kept walking and walking passing various units with various numbers, probably belonging to other tenants. He finally stopped in front of an abnormally large unit which had a pin code pad. Quickly and almost mechanically he put the code in which made the door unlock allowing him the open it up. Stepping inside, this unit was way more organised than the last one with what looked like a small version of a shooting range. A mob boss liking to shoot ... original. 

  - Do the neighbours not complain about the noise? - she wondered out loud. 

  - Soundproof walls. - he gave her his regular pearly white smile, taking a pair of noise cancelling headphones and googles from the wall. - Besides, it’s my building. 

  - I’m sure someone probably has complained. - she teased as he put a pair of googles on her face. - Have you ever shot a gun, angel?

  - I did archery in school. - she shrugged. Gwen and Dan usually went for the shooting range back when they were younger but Y/N was always one to take that time to herself and stay home either practicing for her lessons or reading. Besides, she was entirely sure she didn’t even know how a gun worked. - Didn’t have a good aim.

 - Well, this it’s not entirely like archery. - he opened a black panel, grabbing a matte black revolver before handing it to her. Y/N, however, stared at it untrusting of the object. - You’ve grown up with the mob, don’t tell you’ve never touched a gun. 

 - They told me not to and I enjoy following rules. - Y/N crossed her arms, defensive of her statement which made Sebastian smirk. - Besides, what if I touched it and it accidentally shot me? 

 - It’s locked, angel. - he placed the revolver in front of the circle target so he could put the noise cancelled headphones on her, leaving it just spaced enough so he could still talk to her. - Besides, maybe you should know how to defend yourself.

 - Okay. - still a bit guarded, she picked up the weapon, placing herself in line with the target while Sebastian was by her side. 

 - It’s a quick-lock system. - he helped her unlock the gun. - Now, regularly most of the ones in the mob have a quick-lock system so if you’re eve ...

 - I don’t wanna think about it. - the memory of the gunshot from earlier had her not in the mood to think about danger. Maybe there was imminent danger to avoiding the probability of her being hurt but half her mind wanted to believe that people wouldn’t shot at her. Sebastian tightened his lips, changing his narrative. - What if it shoot you by accident?

 - Angel, that is pointing nowhere near me. - he tapped her elbow. - Eyes on the target and pull the trigger. 

Y/N swallowed in dry, looking up from the gun to the bullseye before pulling the trigger. The sound didn’t hit her as hard due to the headphones but she still took a step back out of surprised followed by an upset moan due to the fact the bullet had hit the furthest place from the target. 

  - Right... - Sebastian placed himself behind her, arms coming up to her, almost mirroring her position so he could move her arms and overall aim in the right position. - Take a deep breathe, pick your target, concentrate and shoot. 

  - Okay. - she took a deep breath, feeling his skin too close to her in a way which almost made her too weak on the knees to concentrate on the target. Nevertheless, she focused on the bullseye, pressing the trigger which caused a back/forward motion and the bullet when straight into the target making her eyes and smile widen as her ego swelled up with pride. She turned around, pulling Sebastian into a hug. - I did it!

Sebastian locked the revolver, placing it back on the table before returning to a very enthusiastic Y/N yet not very excited to do it again. Nevertheless, Sebastian was happy she at least knew how to use a weapon, just in case. As he opened his mouth to say something, his phone started to ring. God, just fantastic. Sighing in defeat, he put his phone on to his hear, a fairly familiar yet annoying voice coming through. Y/N watched in confusion, not entirely sure who was at the phone but from what she could manage from his words it seemed like he was getting an invite which he was very against. After what felt like a good 5 or 10 minutes of speaking on the phone, begrudgingly he turned his phone off, looking at Y/N with a look which was very indescribable.  

  - Are you okay? - she took a few steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, one of her hands coming to brush his hair soothingly. - Who was it?

  - Gwen. She’s spending New Years at the Ritz and she wants you to go. 

  - The Ritz? I thought she was going to Monaco. 

 - Seems like she decided to stay in New York and wants you and me there for good measure. 

 - I know for a fact she does not enjoy your company? Why the sudden change of heart?

 - We are getting married in two weeks, angel. I would call it PR but then again, what hasn’t been PR with the two of us?

 - Oh ... right ... the wedding. - sometimes Y/N forgot that she was very much involved with a man stuck in his engagement. It wasn’t like he could break it, that was a death sentence and probably the biggest mistake he could make. However, she still didn’t know how she was gonna handle it. Maybe Mr. Forrest was right, maybe she should go to Paris after all of this was over, maybe she should just start to distance herself but how could she distance herself from someone who is just so magnetic without even trying? How do you ignore a magnetic pull? - Well, I guess we should pack ... again. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @nikkipea​ @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​ @captainchrisstan​ @lookiamtrying​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​ @nsfwsebbie @strangerliaa @emzd34 @everything-is-awesomesauce @dreams-in-blxck 

[angrypomerianian]

class 1-a and 1-b perform at the sports festival. (like a talent show) katsuki and jirou duet a song for the sports festival!

nezu being the god he is, makes class 1-a and 1-b perform in the sports festival this year. 

jirou is the only one that knows katsuki can sing, besides eri, so she asks him to do a duet with him because despite is rough demeanor, his voice is like an angel singing from the heavens onto the earth. obviously, he’s all like , ‘fuck off’, until jirou uses a secret weapon. eri. eri is an angel that katsuki has a soft spot for, so jirou convinces her to try and convince katsuki to sing with her, and it works.

jirou and katsuki meet up at the music room daily, which mina and denki notice. they start gossiping and come to the conclusion that they are dating.

they tell what they saw to the rest of the class, and they start a bet on whether or not they really are dating. momo and todoroki are j e a l o u s because momo likes jirou and todoroki likes katsuki.

jirou and katsuki decide on singing I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry, with katsuki changing pronouns to he/him. the reason they chose it was because they heard about the rumors about them dating.

they casually get closer because of all the time they spend practicing, and the class takes it as a hint that they’re dating (which they most definitely are not.)

all the girls (except jirou) choreographed a dance and the rest decided to perform Hero Too together. todoroki also told his thoughts to midoriya about jirou and katsuki.

the day of the performance, jirou and katsuki wear matching hoodies with middle fingers on them. (katsuki obviously chose it, who else?)

mina sees them wearing it and squeal, gaining the attention of everyone else. everyone crowded around them, taking in the matching outfits and asked them what was up with it. everyone was obviously waiting for them to say they were together, but katsuki said, “we decided to perform together, why got a fucking problem with it?”

kirishima slings an arm around his shoulder, “no, bro! it’s totally manly to be singing with your girlfriend!”

“...hah!?”

“what? aren’t you and jirou dating?”

“NO! WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT SHITTY IDEA!?”

jirou looked at the class, equally shocked. “y-you guys think we’re dating?”

the class nodded their heads. after a few moments of silence, jirou and katsuki burst out laughing. 

“y-you think i would date kyoka!? in my fucking nightmares!”

“i don’t know what i’d do if i were dating you, katsuki!”  yes, first names basis. they are 100% on first name basis just to spite their classmates.

after the two calmed down, they walked away and high-fived. the class was too in shock to see that todoroki and momo visibly relaxed.

the girls performed first, they danced to a kpop song. they wore a crop top and sweatpants, all the shirts were different colors to match their style. 

the boys played an instrumental of Hero Too next.

then, class 1-b left. they made a display using their quirks which earned a lot of praise. class 1-a could practically feel monoma’s smug stare, but they were waiting for jirou and katsuki to perform. the curtain was closed and the students were all waiting in the audience.

they could hear people shuffling around and placing things down. when the curtain finally rose, there was quite a shock. jirou and katsuki were both sitting on stools, an electric guitar in katsuki’s arms and a mic in jirou’s hands. there was a mic stand holding up katsuki’s microphone.

“are they going to sing?” sero asks

kaminari snickers, “i wonder how badly bakubros gonna sing.” he talks his phone out and gets ready to record.

music starts playing in the background, and katsuki plays along with the guitar.

jirou starts singing, “this was never the way i planned, not my intention~ i got so brave, drink in hand. lost my descretion!”

katsuki opened his mouth, ‘it’s not what i’m used to! just wanna try you on~ i’m curious for you... caught. my attention!’ his voice was rich in tone, and clear to hear. he was wearing a mischievous smirk. kaminari squeaked and nearly dropped the phone. this was clearly not what they were expecting.

jirou took over the next verse, “i kissed a girl and i liked it! the taste of her cherry chapstick~ i kissed a girl just to try it, i hope my boyfriend don’t mind it~”

“it felt so wrong, it felt so right. don’t mean i’m in love tonight! i kissed a girl and i liked it... i liked it!”

“no i don’t even know your name. it doesn’t matter! you’re my experimental game, just human-nature!“

“it’s not what good girls do. not how they should behave~ my head gets, so confused... hard to obey!”

“i kissed a boy, and i liked it! the taste of his cherry chapstick~ i kissed a boy just to try it... i hope my girlfriend don’t mind it!”

“it felt so wrong, it felt so right! don’t mean i’m in love tonight! i kissed a boy and i liked it.. i liked it!”

“us girls we are so magical. soft skin, red lips, so kissable. hard to resist, so touchable! too good to deny it. ain’t no big deal, it’s innocent!“

“i kissed a boy, and i liked it! the taste of his cherry chapstick! i kissed a boy just to try it... i hope my girlfriend don’t mind it!“

“it felt so wrong, it felt so right! don’t mean i’m in love tonight~ i kissed a boy and i liked it... i liked it!”

the final note played and the song ended. the cheers were heard, and they high-fived before going back stage. the race to meet them was like a bloodbath. people were shoving and pushing to get there first. 

hagakure got there first, “i didn’t know you could sing, bakugou!”

he rolled his eyes in return, “you didn’t know because i didn’t fucking tell you.”

the rest of the class catches up with her and crowds around the duo. 

“so you guys aren’t dating?” tsu asks.

“bitch i’m gay.” katsuki snorts.

jirou raises her hand, “i’m a proud lesbian.”

the class is silent with shock, watching as the two walk away, discussing about singing together more in the future.

two weeks later, katsuki gets tired of jirou and momo dancing around each other. he locks them in a closet. 

[kerra-and-company]

For Kerra’s 1st Birthday

So. You know how sometimes we imagine animatics in our heads that we never make? I did that, but I was picturing it in such detail that I wrote it down. I still don’t have the skills to animate or draw it, but I figured it might be a good birthday present for Kerra. :)

I’m a couple weeks or so late (very sorry, Ker!), but I’m counting it as her first birthday present. I’ve been playing this game for over a year now, which isn’t long compared to a lot of you, but I’ve definitely fallen in love with it, and I appreciate the community here on Tumblr, no matter how big it might or might not be. Thanks for a great first year, everyone. Love you guys, seriously <3

(I don’t know if this is going to be something other people are super interested in reading or not, but if you are, go for it--it’s under the cut! :) The song is Dirt Around The Tree by Candi Carpenter, and you can listen to it here or on Spotify if you want. Thanks again, folks. I appreciate you a lot.)

[Introductory music plays over brief intro text. Just before the beginning of the song, the text fades to dense clouds.]

I was born in the fall

 [The clouds clear, revealing Caledon. The camera/POV swoops through quickly in the direction of the Grove, with various recognizable places there visible as it does so.]

The season when everything is dying

 [Camera continues its swoop. If we look closely, we can see that it’s winter, or at least sometime cool, in Caledon. There’s no snow, but there’s frost, and many trees are missing leaves. Farms and gardens are bare.]

We must know what we're in for

 [Camera enters the Grove, skirting past the trunk of the Pale Tree and slowing down by pods of not-yet-awakened sylvari. It settles on one.]

That's why we come into this world crying

 [The pod splits open, and Kerra falls out. Nearby sylvari try to help her up, but she scrambles in an uncoordinated fashion to her feet, calling out Caithe’s name.]

 My mother always told me life's not fair

 [The Pale Tree in the Omphalos Chamber, arms open wide, eyes closed. On the word “life”, the camera cuts to Kerra in “Beneath a Cold Moon”, fighting Tiachren. On “not”, the camera cuts to Kerra standing over bodies, next to Caithe and various Wardens. One of the bodies is Tiachren’s. On “fair”, the camera cuts back to the Omphalos Chamber, but this time to Kerra alone. Caithe and Aife are just barely in the image (their shoulders at most), but the focus is on Kerra’s face—troubled and grieving but not quite crying.]

That's probably why I ran away

 [The camera spins back around so that we see Kerra looking at the Pale Tree. This time, she’s flanked by the three sylvari order reps, and Cai—the rep from the Order of Whispers—is holding her hand out. Kerra looks down at it. On “why”, the camera cuts to just their hands, clasped in a handshake. On “ran,” the camera cuts to Kerra and Tybalt on the mission to rescue Demmi. They’ve just opened the door to the room where Demmi was locked up, and Kerra’s holding her hand out to Demmi.]

I don't think that I felt safe at home

 [Camera zooms in on Kerra’s hand, going to brush her hair-leaves back. When it zooms back out, we see Kerra sitting next to Rel. They’re on the beaches of the Weeping Isle, and her mouth is open, like she’s saying the song lyrics. She’s more in silhouette here than a clear picture, and the focus is on Rel’s face. His forehead is furrowed as if in concern.]

And I don't think that's ever gonna change…

 [Kerra’s face comes into clearer focus, still mouthing the words, but this time she looks straight into the camera for a second. As the camera pans around her head, the landscape behind her changes to an airship. She starts to turn away from the camera on the word “ever”, and by “change”, she’s facing away, and we can see her standing at the front of an airship alongside Destiny’s Edge, flying to confront Zhaitan. Kerra’s wearing a long coat now, brown with just-visible green embroidery, and it flaps in the breeze.]

 Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

 [The image blurs as the camera zooms towards the ground and under it. We see roots, twisting and shifting, twining together.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

 [The camera pans up, more slowly this time so the image is clear. We exit the ground, passing through the levels of the Grove, ending on the plaza in the center where the Pale Tree’s leaves spiral up towards the Omphalos Chamber.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

 [Three images. The first is the Pale Tree, eyes down and half-closed. She looks pained. On “runs”, the image shifts to Caithe, with shiny eyes and a shadowy Faolain behind her, side by side with Trahearne, who’s holding Caladbolg with a gaze that’s both tired and far away. On “family”, the image shifts to Kerra, still in the same outfit from the airship, but with a dark background. Her eyes are wide and unsure.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

 [The camera zooms out to show two Kerras, now, separated by just enough distance that they’d have to move closer to touch (so maybe a couple meters or so). The first is Kerra as a sapling, in her sylvari armor, and the second is Kerra in her airship outfit. They each look at the camera. On the word “running”, they turn to each other. On “me”, the second Kerra turns away and takes a step away from the first.]

 [On the instrumentals, Kerra steps from the black void into the snow, her bow on her back and Felix beside her. She looks worn and tired, her coat torn. She walks from there into a house with Nisha (with a stack of letters), and she smiles. When she leaves the house, her wardrobe changes from brown to blue, and she walks into Southsun, facing Canach and then meeting with him in his cell after. Other images flow after, briefly—her and Dragon’s Watch facing Scarlet, then the party with the nobles, then facing Aerin. Finally, it settles on them all together before the summit, waiting below the Omphalos Chamber for the dignitaries to arrive.]

 I read that trauma is genetic

 [The camera pans up to the Omphalos Chamber, which is under attack by the Shadow of the Dragon. We focus on the Shadow first as it roars (on the word “trauma”) and bares its teeth, and then we pan to Kerra’s face on “genetic”. She’s terrified—but she’s terrified of what the Shadow means, not that she can’t defeat it.]

Who was the first to hand it down?

 [Brief flashes of scenes again. Kerra briefly trying to help her Mother as menders run towards them on “Who”, Kerra-as-Caithe (and Nisha alongside her) watching Wynne’s confession on “first”, Trahearne giving the order to fire on “hand”, and airships falling over Maguuma on “down”.]

Was it my grandpa or his father?

 [Kerra, wearing her HoT clothes, standing beside Canach and Caithe to face Mordremoth, the camera fully focusing on him as of the word “grandpa” and leaving them as silhouettes with weapons at his feet.]

You can't ask someone who ain't around

 [Kerra running to Trahearne while he’s trapped in Mordremoth’s vines and hanging above the ground, grabbing his hand in hers. On “someone”, the image melts into Kerra holding Caladbolg out in Mordremoth’s mindscape, alone. She’s pointing it at a large seed, and Trahearne’s silhouette is behind her. She’s protecting him. On “ain’t”, Kerra begins to glow purple, and the image fades to brightness and then Mordremoth’s power exploding through the jungle, like the cutscene in canon, implying his death.]

 Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

 [Again, like before in the first iteration of the chorus, the camera blurs as we zoom down to roots, shifting and intertwining, but this time we can see clearly that they’re growing, too.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

 [Again, we pan through the levels of the Grove to reach the centerpoint with the spiral branches and leaves of the Pale Tree.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

 [And again, we have the three sets of images, but they’re slightly different. The Pale Tree is dimmer, clearly wounded and in pain even if the wounds themselves are not visible. The shadow of Faolain looks like the Mordrem version of her, and Caladbolg is shattered. Kerra’s in her HoT outfit now, with nicks in a few of her leaves. She’s not much different physically, but something in her expression makes her look older.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

 [And last but not least for repeats, we enter the blank void again, but there are three Kerras this time—sapling-Kerra, Zhaitan-Kerra, and HoT-Kerra. They all start off looking at the camera. On “running”, sapling-Kerra and Zhaitan-Kerra look at HoT-Kerra, and she looks back at them. On “me”, she turns and takes a step away from them.]

 [Instrumentals follow, and the steps turn into a full-on run as she crashes into Canach and Nisha’s arms, laughing. Her outfit switches to her LWS3 one as she swings from their arms to Tarir, watching Aurene hatch and pulling her close. Caithe is in that image too, awe and faint affection on her face. As the deeper strings are overrun with lighter notes, a few scenes flicker by—Lazarus awakening, the battle with Caudecus, Balthazar’s reveal. The strings reach a high note as Kerra is shown on the airship to Elona, her clothes changing again to those she wears in PoF. Vlast’s death is shown, a bright light and Balthazar and crystals, followed by Kerra in Kesho and then a flash of her traversing the desert on her raptor. The notes begin to downswing into the bridge as the battle on the mountaintop comes into focus, Kerra fighting Balthazar hand-to-hand with Caladbolg, and on the final few notes, we see him slash down at her where she’s lying, barely breathing, on the ground. There’s darkness, and on the last note, she opens her eyes in the Domain of the Lost. They’re red.]

 I wanna be more than a lost little girl

 [Spirit-Kerra takes a step forward. She picks her bow up off the ground on “be”, meeting Nenah’s eyes as her guide gestures towards a hill. Glowing blue silhouettes of memories are visible in the distance, but only just barely. On “lost”, we see the full image of Kerra looking towards the hill, determined.]

I'm gonna grow up someday

 [The camera shows Kerra climbing the mountain, past various memory images. Some we’ve seen in the video, some we haven’t. In the last image, right on/after the word “someday”, we can see Caladbolg at Kerra’s side.]

Maybe I'll plant another family tree

 [Kerra pauses at a memory of her with her partners. It’s not one we’ve seen before, but they’re all smiling at something or someone the memory doesn’t show. Canach’s arm is around Kerra’s waist, Nisha’s is around her shoulder, and she’s holding them both. On “another”, she reaches out as if to touch it but stops just before she does.]

Somewhere far, far away

 [Kerra continues and reaches the top of the mountain. The memory there is Aurene, still very much a baby, desperately trying to protect Kerra, and then being wrapped in chains. She looks at the image for a few seconds, blue light giving her face an eerie cast, before grasping Caladbolg’s hilt and nearly leaping down the mountain on “away���.]

 [As the music upswings to the final chorus/verse, Kerra bows to the Judge, slashes through the Eater of Souls, and rushes past a very irritated Joko into the portal back to Tyria.]

 Far from the root of all my guilt and anger

 [The light from the portal fades into a cloudless sky and a vast desert. On “guilt”, the camera pans over to the mountain where Kerra fought Balthazar. Wisps of smoke still come from it, but they’re faint. We can see figures on the mountain, but not well enough to determine features (though if you’ve played PoF you could guess who most of them are).]

Blood in the dirt and on the leaves

 [The words describe what we’re seeing. Kerra’s blood is on the sandy dirt of the mountaintop, and it’s splattered in specks on her hair-leaves and face.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

 [On “Tell”, Kerra opens her eyes wide. They’re faint purple, as they should be. On “me” she sits up straight, gasping. As the rest of the phrase plays out, we see what she is seeing as her gaze tracks across her friends. Kasmeer, Rytlock…Canach and Nisha. Kasmeer has a tentative but disbelieving smile on her face. Rytlock looks very much like “what the fuck”.]

Am I who I'm supposed to be?

 [There’s a beat while Kerra stares at Canach and Nisha and they stare back at her, but on “supposed”, her partners reach their hands out to her. She looks back at them, wide-eyed, like she’s about to cry.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

 [On the musical downswing, the image fades into current Kerra in the blank void. Just her, no one else. She’s sitting on the ground, in clothing that’s damaged and burned, with too-bright eyes.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

 [There’s six Kerras in total now, in a line as they’ve been in the previous choruses, but all but the first and the last fade into the background on “me”, leaving just sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra to stare at each other across the distance of the blank void. Both sitting, both very different. The distance is much larger than a meter.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

 [The three picture sets flash, but this time they’re interspersed with Canach and Nisha moving towards Kerra, and they’re different now. On “Heart-”, the image of the Pale Tree is of her with the Menders, giving them a faint smile. On “break”, we see Canach and Nisha taking a step forward. On “runs”, we see Caithe holding a tiny Aurene in her arms, and they both look overjoyed. Trahearne no longer has Caladbolg and his face is scarred to look half-Mordrem, but he’s standing next to Rel, who’s laughing as he kisses the back of Trahearne’s hand. On “the”, we fully fade back to the mountaintop, and Canach and Nisha take another step forward before throwing Kerra into their arms. At the end of this line, we see Kerra crying and holding them tight, with Kas wiping her own tears away and Rytlock starting to laugh with unexpected relief.]

Why am I still running from me?

 [Slowly, the image fades back into sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra in the void, staring at each other. PoF-Kerra is still crying, but on “me”, she smiles, too.]

 [As the final instrumentals play out, both of them stand up. They run toward each other, and they meet in the middle with a tight hug, burying their faces in each other’s shoulder.]

 [THE END]

[literaphobe]

season 2 of she-ra rated by catradora content

the frozen forest: “aw, cute, you can turn your sword into stuff.” very interesting how adora has to literally train not by fighting any real soldiers in the horde just... catra. light hope scanned her brain and knew she wouldn’t bother to run after anyone else :/ which. is true. call her out!! she fights bots too but she has more or less no issues with them even though she’s no expert with turning her sword into stuff yet, but then catra comes out, and suddenly adora can’t even block a single punch because catra laughed at her :( AND suddenly her sword can’t turn into anything but a cup. why adora? are you thirsty? it’s even funnier because none of this is real, and adora KNOWS that none of this is real, but she’s still Affected when fake catra says her seductive “hey adora” and she decides oh i know! i’ll turn my sword into a d*ldo with holes! oh wait never mind, is that a flute? damn it now she wants to Serenade catra. that’s even gayer than wanting to have sex with her. “did you mean to do that? because if you did it’s a terrible weapon.” “is not! >:(“ adora’s comebacks are like. kindergarten quality shit. i would make fun of catra’s insult too but in her defense that’s not actually catra. so adora tries to hit fake catra with her musical instrument and it doesn’t really work so she tackles fake catra and pins her to the ground. and looks,,, low key aroused as she does it okay adora.... she’s not real please remember that.... ur already a furry please don’t also be a bot fucker “what are you waiting for? you gonna play me a song on that thing?” yes she WAS catra! that’s what i’ve been SAYING don’t be mean to your girlfriend when she’s trying to serenade you :( adora gets angry after this latest act of oppression so she raises her hand, about to hit fake catra, but she stops right before the weapon can make contact, and her face softens. “i knew you couldn’t do it.” fake catra fades and the audience finds out something adora already knew. none of this was real, and even if she had hit fake catra and killed her, real catra would be fine. And Yet,,,,, big fucking sigh bros. haha y’all ever so hung up on a chick that you can’t even kill a fake simulation of her? even though she’s your enemy? lmaoooooo anyway the training simulation ends and adora is so depressed she transforms out of her she-ra form and asks “did you have to make her so mean? :(“ even tho light hope is about to come out and yell gay slurs at her. light hope shows up and is very confused. is catra... not mean? was my catra ooc miss adora? :/ did this catra hit different? too hostile? not like what ur used to? :/ go to hell adora if you made catra into a sim and picked her defining trait it WOULD be MEAN god everyone’s a critic. and then adora is like ok ur right :( catra is mean.... but have you considered making your simulation’s fake catra one that will hold me gently in her arms? have you considered that maybe i don’t want to fight her and that i want to kiss her instead? god damn it light hope you bitch. you fucking homophobe.

light hope is like okay cool. this latest performance was ur worst one btw and adora is like why do you THINK and is like i wanna be the very best :( like no one ever was :( and protecc etheria :( “but catra, she’s just in my head” ;) oh yeah i bet she is adora JFJSJDJSJD “when you grow up with someone, they know how to push your buttons :(” that’s very true adora. but you also grew up with many people such as lonnie, rogelio, and kyle. and you don’t seem to give a shit about them :/ so i guess “grow up with someone” really means “be in love” huh. i love you but do NOT lie to me ever again. after this, we see the real catra :’) she’s back at the horde training kyle, lonnie, and rogelio. “she-ra is too strong to defeat with force alone. but she’s slow and easily manipulated.” yeah maybe for you! maybe she slows down when she fights you because ur pretty and ur voice is sexy! way to flex ur privilege :( not everyone can manipulate she-ra because she’s not in love with all of them ok :( just u :( later on, we’re back at the war meeting in bright moon. bow says “we’re defeating the bots, but more keep coming. while we’re using our resources to hold our borders, the horde hasn’t had to deploy a single soldier.” hey! that’s a perfectly normal statement right! one that does not mention any specific person. there should be no reason for anyone to respond to this by bringing up any individual. guess what adora says. guess what she fucking says. i’m so fucking done oh my god. “typical catra >:(“ did... did bow MENTION catfkakdjsjdjsjs????? i’m fucking WHEEZING. adora. baby. could u. like. chill out? :/ re catra? for like one second? no? okay guess i’ll have to live with it. adora is so hung up over the “hey adora ;)” she heard from fake catra during training that she has to repay the favor when she fights entrapta’s upgraded bots. adora looks into the camera of one of the bots and just. she just KNOWS catra is watching and she’s correct. and she’s like “hey catra ;)” before punching the camera and cutting the live stream. catra’s response isn’t to immediately ditch the horde and go kiss adora (booooooo) but to. try and explode she-ra using one of the other bots. okay. i guess we all cope with arousal in different ways :/ when the bot explodes and adora realizes her attempt at seduction did not work out the way she intended (press f to pay respects), she gets all “>:( catra” which is very cute and iconic of her. and it’s apparently her way of coping with the situation so i’ll just let her be! 9/10

ties that bind: fuck you swift wind. what the FUCK. i can’t believe adora had to go on some stupid quest with the horse all because she would be fiFTy sEVeN pERcenT mOrE eFFeCtivE with him. who gives a shit. catra getting kidnapped and tied up is clearly the superior plot here and adora wasn’t there for it?? which, i know is the whole point, but also, why did they have to put her with the horse. would’ve rather seen adora with literally any of the princesses instead. haha jk. but also, am i? it is important that adora gets over her hatred of swift wind and bonds with him. but also, is it? sigh, let’s get on with the show. bow and glimmer set out to go bring back entrapta. “let’s go get adora!” bow baby. u r so woke. i love that attitude. yes y’all should’ve absolutely brought adora along. no she was not doing anything important. “adora’s training!!!!” glimmer baby i love u but why :( why would u do this :( anyway, bow and glimmer get tricked into thinking the horde is torturing entrapta so they (accidentally) kidnap catra. bow is an absolute sweetheart who just. is sweet to everyone so he tries bonding w catra and is like “come on, i bet even the horde has friends. what about adora? :3 you two grew up together. what was she like as a kid? :3” because adora is bow’s best friend and he wants to know more about her <3 best boy <3 and catra just hisses at him because if she spoke she would probably say. adora was everything to me. adora made me laugh, she played with me, she took care of me, she protected me even when everyone else looked the other way. just seeing her would put a smile on my face. she held my hand. she hugged me. she was my shoulder to cry on. adora was the only good thing in my life at the horde. i have been in love with her my entire life. and now she’s she-ra. anyway. catra decides to annoy glimmer into letting her go, and glimmer gets so frustrated that she says “how did adora take years of this? she didn’t run away from the horde. she ran away from YOU” which. is about the most horrifying thing you could say to catra since she like. really believes that. and adora’s not even there to defend herself :( and say shit like. Well It Helped That I Was In Love With Catra And That Every Moment We Spent Together Was Filled With Laughter And Joy Because No One Else Has Ever Made Me This Happy Even When We Were Stuck Together In The Worst Place On Etheria—stuff like that u know? :/ anyway catra is like :’( —> >:’( “adora’s gonna dump u one day too glimmer!!” + “you and adora are perfect for each other, i’ll give you that. earnest, naive, ridiculously easy to manipulate. it’s adorable!” wow catra. u think…… adora…. is…. adorable? wow…. :’) djdjdjdjdjdj but yeah. she really said my gf is cute! my gf is earnest! and that’s pretty much it on the catradora front. notice how i didn’t say a word about the horse plot. yeah. :) i mean i physically couldn’t because this is a catradora based evaluation post. but ya. u get the point. 7/10

signals: huh! nothing! except when glimmer says “catra was right!” and adora’s face is like... u kno. u know how she gets when catra is suddenly brought up. 2/10 but the whole ghosts thing is cute. adora believing and wholeheartedly being scared of ghosts makes me think... catradora buzzfeed unsolved AU

roll with it: the absolute RIGHTS of this episode. adora planning obsessively because “you’re not taking the biggest variable into account :( catra </3 she’s been behind every horde plan, she led the attack on bright moon, she’s devious, she’s very cute—“ and everyone is like omg adora calm down,,,, okay fine we’ll fantasize about ur gf. so everyone is all: this is my catra headcanon <3 glimmer is like. catra is a sexy femme fatale. bow is like. catra and i would make so many sick fucking puns. and adora is like :( y’all are all headcanoning catra WRONG :( she’s sexy and funny and cute the Way She Is :( why mess with the original recipe? :( except she’s wrong because season 4 and 5 will exist one day. but she is not wrong because season 1-3 catra is also very good. adora u do u. have fun laughing at everyone’s interpretations of ur gf. go ahead and brag about how uve been in love w her ur entire life. adora is like. all ur plans suck. obviously catra would block or duck or jump up really high or look really cute or smile and dazzle u with her charms. how DARE you underestimate my enemy gf. and then everyone devolves into their cool plans again and adora is like CATRA CATRA CATRA >:( so everyone is like ok fine we are going 2 bully her. and we get this epic scene where they do impressions of catra, but it is visualized like: different versions of catra keep flanking adora, and she in that scene is clearly very seriously considering having a fourway with femme fatale catra, prom catra, and punny og catra. but in like uh.... a cool platonic way. anyway, everyone is like. hey adora. we know ur paranoid and obsessed with ur gf. but can we just attack the horde now? could you chill the fuck out? and adora is like. u wanna know the worst that could happen? fine. “i’m the heaviest hitter, so catra will separate me right away. trap me, take my sword, do Something so i’m helpless when she turns on you. she knows Everything about me, EXACTLY what i’ll do, EXACTLY how to take me out. they’ll overwhelm frosta and mermista with bots, they’ll fire on perfuma, and use her to draw bow out into the open, pinning him between the bots and the horde soldiers. glimmer will teleport in to save him, but she won’t have enough magic left to get out, trapping them both. catra will make me watch all of it before she Finishes Me Off.” which..... weirdly kinky, but okay, and also weirdly sweet if u think about it? like catra grew up thinking she was never as good as adora but adora even with her new she-ra powers now is convinced that catra is so good that she can predict and counter and overpower anything adora throws at her, even with her super-powered friends and allies <3 and she...... lets it paralyze her with fear and blames herself for anything that could possibly go wrong which is really sad and not good :( but stuff can be two things! and. we’re kind of trying to be gay here so let’s continue on the gay train <3 the princess alliance realizes that adora has major issues and give her love and support so adora is like oh nice!!! time to run in without a plan and stay true to my brute strength colors <3 and she’s so excited to see her gf..... only to find out, her gf isn’t there?????? the fuck???? she spent hours planning their fight date only to get stood the fuck up??????? she’s so distraught over it as she fights scorpia she goes through the five stages of grief. she’s like... catra’s really not here?? and she left you in charge???? and babe i get that ur jealous and upset that ur gf didn’t show up but hey :( don’t hate crime scorpia like that :( 8/10

white out: adora is upset that she hasn’t seen her enemy gf in a while so when the squad finds out that the horde is doing stuff in the north(?) adora decides that they must immediately go there in case the horde (catra) is doing stuff that she must stop the horde (catra) from doing immediately. and it works! they bump into the super pal trio! but before that, we see entrapta show catra the red disk that makes she-ra go RAGE and adora go floop. it’s basically a Make Adora Delirious/Drunk Crystal <3 catra gets an evil hate boner when she hears that the disk “takes away she-ra’s powers” and is like damn entrapta ;) why didn’t you tell me about that sooner ;) later on, the best friend squad bumps into the super pal trio! adora sees catra and is like. hey remember last episode? what the fuck was that babe. step the FUCK up. run away with me? <3 but here’s a more literal break down of what really happened: catra is threatening entrapta as she... tends to do when she’s interrupted by adora who says “catra! >:(“ completely ignoring that there are other people there who she should also greet. i mean it’s just manners u know? “it’s been a while.” is not an excuse. u haven’t seen entrapta either for an even longer time. and u had nothing to say to her? i get that ur gay and in love but have some respect okay :( catra is happy and decides it’s time to seduce her. we get yet another “heyyy adora ;)” for the books. adora starts to ignore everyone present again and banters pettily with catra about how catra lost the battle of bright moon, because you know :( she hasn’t seen her gf in a while :( and she didn’t get to rub things like that in her face :( and catra is like haha lmaooooo loserrrrr and it really pisses adora off so she’s like okay down to business then! go away >:( and catra’s like oh u want me to go away? make me ;) and so they literally. run away from everyone else. i’m not making this shit up they literally said those things and just ditched the group. and both groups, who have not said a fucking word to each other since this confrontation began because the lesbians are so fucking loud and clearly everything they discuss is personal and not an invitation for group convo, they’re all left there to be like..... i guess we should fight each other now? and scorpia is like UGHHH goddamn it. and u really feel for her u know? :/ u try and u try to ask a girl out and she’s so stupid she doesn’t know ur asking her out on a date, but her stupid ex walks in and all she has to do is run and catra runs in front of her ready to go on a date. what the fuck. anyway, catra and adora are also fighting. adora’s better at transforming her sword into stuff now so she summons a rope (ok kinkster) to grab catra’s leg and pull her towards her and she threatens catra with her sword, saying “don’t move.” catra’s response? “oh, please. you’d never have the guts.” and god damn it catra it’s not that she doesn’t have the guts! :( it’s that she loves you and doesn’t want to hurt you! and also she’s not into necrophilia! catra continues with “you know, as much as i love our fights, it’s way too cold for this.” i hate them so fucking much. they really do get off on this shit!!! i hate them but also mood!!!! stop flirting with each other ur both so goddamn annoying omg. “why don’t we try something new? ;)” yeah. something new like hmm what if y’all kissed? haha, just a suggestion! but no, catra decides to use the red crystal thingy :( haha SIKE i’m not :( at all i’m very much :) because we’ve been WAITING for drunk adora. i love that delirious baby. what a fucking cutie. but because she-ra’s sword is the one who gets poisoned, she-ra goes all angry and evil and catra is like that’s hot! but it’s not what i signed up for but also... oh lmao she’s fighting her friends? nice. this is hot again. complacently, catra goes “this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened!” causing evil!she-ra to realize she exists and trying to kill catra for real, and catra is like NEVER MIND I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS and she’s like “adora wait :(“ which is like. babe no :( babe u were supposed to turn evil in a sexy way :( we could be sexy and evil together baby :( babe :( thankfully for catra adora’s not the only one who has a crush on her so scorpia tackles she-ra, separating her from her sword, and she goes back to adora. catra gets the sword, laughs, and says “that went so much better than i could’ve ever hoped.” did it?????? ur so stupid ur gf was about to murder u and u were ready to simp for ur life. then she goes “looks like you’re mine now, adora. >;)” and like. lifts adora’s face up by the chin with the tail end of the sword. and. let me just take a deep breath here. uh. What The Fuck Is That. HELLO?????? why is that. okay. HHHHHH. why!!!! good god!!!!! i hate sexual tension. anyway, catra tells scorpia to carry adora inside bc adora’s not wearing enough layers and she doesn’t want her gf to get cold :( jk but uh, they get adora inside, and catra is once again obsessed with her. she sits right next to her and pines like “always so perfect.... look at you now.... (i HATE how sexual this sounds) you’re coming back to the horde under my command.....” like. COME ON. why is she like this. ur allowed to be evil but i draw the LINE at u flirting with adora she’s not even AWAKE. and scorpia is like. could u. could u not be obsessed w adora for one second? it’s kinda harshing my vibe :/ and catra is like hehe she ra go >:( haha funney. we can turn the rebellion’s own hero against them. That’s Good™ i wonder which of your friends i’ll have you annihilate first... and then she giggles to herself and it’s so cute but babe. once again. stop flirting with adora while she’s out cold she won’t be able to flirt back :( and then the most. upsetting part of the ep happens. catra LEAVES and makes scorpia watch over adora before adora even wakes up so we don’t get! to see! catra with drunk/delirious adora!!!!!! what the FUCK. what is the POINT. i am DISTRAUGHT. hello?????? why were we robbed. whatever. it’s still good but come on not even one scene? :( scorpia is annoyed as she should be and is like UGH just wanted to be alone with catra but nooooo im stuck babysitting her “”””””ex-best friend””””””” which we all know is code for just. ex. LMAO fkdkdkdk like this isn’t even reaching we BEEN knew. anyway adora is being. so cute. so goddamn cute i am in love. adora barely even remembers her name but when scorpia is like hm what’s the passcode to the lab? adora goes BOOP BOOP BOOP BOOP BOOP and puts in catra’s super long fave number. that is so fucking cute that she knows and remembers that and thinks that catra would use it even tho she’s not even. in the right state of mind. and scorpia gets jealous obviously like ohhhh u know catra’s favorite number and i don’t! u grew up with catra and she’s been in love with you her whole life and i don’t have that! fuck u adora. even when u and catra are fighting each other tryna kill each other u can tell there’s a real bond there :( and like scorpia I’m so sorry baby I know :( they’re in love and it’s very annoying :( and i know adora is very annoying but have you also considered that she is very cute? that she is so lovely? and yeah that’s why catra is in love with her and shit :( seahawk and scorpia fight over adora and adora is like. hehe. catra mean <3 she’s so mean <3 and so hot and cute and sexy <3 omg im gonna marry her hehehehe <3 both sides reconvene to fight the bug, and adora finds glimmer vaguely familiar but doesn’t recognize who she is exactly. but she’ll remember catra’s long ass fave number. ok whore. catra, who’s also stupid, sees adora and is like guess I’ll drop all other priorities to get her! and tells scorpia to find the sword because she’s going after adora again. she’s so determined to keep adora that she.... catches a moving arrow. and throws it away. fjdjdjdjddj DAMN ok sheer gay determination is THAT strong huh. but it’s also sad because catra’s so busy fighting she doesn’t get to see adora being super cute :( it’s fucking wasted and not FAIR. catra thinks it’s funny that anyone would expect her to willingly give the disk up, because she’s got control of adora now, and control of adora means that adora won’t leave her.... which is not healthy :( but also HHHHHH but also it’s okay because their relationship gets healthy in the future and that’s very sexy of them <3 the disk is broken by scorpia in the end, and as adora regains.... conscious???ness????? idk??? her sense of reality??? sobers up???? anyway she and catra exchange this one last very heavy look, right before catra is grabbed by scorpia 9/10, except i want to take away so many points because of the wasted potential, but also i wanna add back so many points because of “looks like you’re mine now, adora ;)”

light spinner: ewwww shadow weaver ewwwww hordak i’m so sorry catra baby so sorry u had to interact with them instead of adora :( 0/10 </3

reunion: I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. THIS EP IS SO GOOD. BUT. I CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS. THIS IS ONLY BECAUSE THIS IS A CATRADORA EVALUATION OK. therefore the rating is.... is..... :( 0/10 :( i know i am distraught too. :( despite what a masterpiece it was... there was no catradora :(

[sanjuno]

So a thing happened

Hey, so who remembers me saying that “Wildfire Hearts” was a one shot and I wasn’t gonna create an entire crew of OCs for a one shot?

... I’m weak and think too much so here have a crew list.

SHIP: Days of Reckoning

CREW: The Anarchy Pirates

Captain: Portgas D Riot | “Wildfire” Riot

Technically South Blue by way of his mother and birthplace, East Blue by way of his father and part of his childhood

Has eaten the Legendary Logia - Mera Mera no Mi, Model: Ghostfire (because “Hotarubi” reminds me of bog lights.)

Will never admit to anyone what happened in the canon timeline

Wants to bang Marco the Phoenix like a screen door in a hurricane

Completely out of fucks to give

Has died once already and fears nothing

First Mate: Ranger Dustin

Literally a cowboy

From East Blue

If Jesse McCree was a pirate this is the pirate he’d be

Has a Seahorse, likes to rope Seakings when he’s bored

Has roped and tied his crewmates and Captain to stop them from doing a Dumb more than once

Main weapons are his lassos and his ability to suplex a rowdy Seaking, but he’s also got a decent quickdraw – he shoots from the hip!

Hat-tip to Dusty – we loved you before you had a real name, white cowboy hat pirate man

Quartermaster: Occhio D Vittoria

Clairvoyant Clearfin Lionfish Mermaid

A “first generation” D – the D means “Drowned”

Technically an Author-SI but shh that’s a secret so she says she’s from Fishman Island

She’s basically a waterbender but only with seawater

Old enough to have legs and that’s all you need to know

Probably a witch actually

Spends a significant amount of time yelling at the Sea – please don’t freak out when the Sea starts arguing back if it happens just roll with it

Navigator: Kele of Shandora

Shandorian from a tribe that migrated away from the main Sky Island to an arpeggio to get some distance from the fighting

Has eyes tattooed on his eyelids for the lols

Black hair and black eyes, swarthy skin, many tattoos

He swol but built rangy like an alley cat

Has a magic compass

Fell off the Shandora arpeggio when trying to catch a seaturtle as a birthday present for his mother

Has pearl beads in his hair

HC that people from the Sky Islands have hollow bones, so Kele looks scary but is actually comparatively fragile.

Pirate married to Hilda and Tern

Cannoneer: Svan Hilda

Former North Blue noble

Platinum blonde with red eyes, very pale skin

Jacked like whoa – this woman can bench-press both her husbands and the main cannon at the same time

Also very tol

Really likes it when her “little surprises” make a bigger boom than the other guy’s

Frequently kidnapped by other pirate crews; proceeds to take them over through brute force and broken arms before absconding with their loot before they regain consciousness

Pirate Married to Kele and Tern

Bladesmith: Heel Tern

Why are there so many knives?

East Blue native and exactly as stubborn as you think that means

Light brown hair and dark brown eyes, tanned

Basically immune to fire because of Armament before Riot drags him out of East Blue because he started playing with burning coals before he was old enough to know better

Pirate married to Kele and Hilda

Doctor: Angelo Merci

Always smiling. Always.

Lost her medical license when she “accidently” slipped with her scalpel during surgery on a World Noble who was “fond of children”

Originally from West Blue

Technically was supposed to get killed for that but shanked the Marine escort and bolted before the order was given

Pink curly hair and green eyes, dark brown skin

Swordsman: Iago Montoya

Is basically what happens when a flamenco dancer and a swashbuckler have a baby

Very Dramatic Person

From South Blue

Dark purple hair and bright purple eyes, dark tan skin

Is BFFs forever with the Badu Brothers

Likes to accuse his opponents of killing his father to “set the proper mood!” even though Mr. Iago Sr. is running a popular theatre back in his hometown

Shipwrights: Ghal Friday and Mahn Gull

They are both from Water 7 but moved to East Blue as children

Friday looks like a dairy maid pin-up and has a grip that can crush cinderblocks barehanded

Has orange hair and blue eyes, tanned with freckles

Gull is really fond of secret passages and trapdoors

Has dark grey hair and overly large orange eyes, pasty from spending as much time as possible inside the ship

Friday and Gull are either married or co-dependant. We dunno for sure and we’re too scared to ask

They will finish each other’s sentences… and sandwiches.

They share only one braincell and it’s usually occupied with ship maintenance

Bard | Chronicler: Tarone Deff

A Lobster Fishman

From Fishman Island, obvs

His swimmerets have pseudo-hands that he uses to play instruments that need digits

Mostly a singer and percussion player tho

Has perfect pitch and can imitate voices really well

Musician: Dandy Leon

Has a massive embarrassing crush on Badur Mofu

Fails hard at flirting when he likes someone but gets like six different denden codes when he’s schmoozing for clothing discounts

Believes that every fight should have a musical score

Plays instruments beautifully, sounds like a dying cat when he tries to sing

Tucks his shirt into his pants but then leaves it unbuttoned so he can show off his “assets”

Fights with a giant fucking axe wtf you twee little bastard where were you keeping that?

Sniper: Mark Tagger

Has a telescope that is the same size as his rifle, and carries them both on his back in a harness, and that has caused some interesting incidents when he mixes them up by grabbing the wrong one

Best artist of the crew, so he helps Kele make the maps

Rainbow dreadlocks and black skin

Never seen without his visor on

Wears massively oversized shirts – I have no idea if he’s got pants on your guess is as good as mine

Cooks: Badur Mofu and Badur Asif

Twins – have recent Artic Wolf Mink Ancestry that makes them look feral, but far enough removed from it that they’re mostly human

White hair, gold eyes, claws, fangs, and slightly off proportions

Badur Asif talks, Badur Mofu doesn’t talk

Enhanced senses mean they are super strict about seasonings

Lookout | Spymaster: Long Conner

Extremely farsighted – can see an approaching ship 3 days away, cannot see own shoelaces

Learned hypnosis and grifting from his granny

Has a very trustworthy face

He is a lying liar who lies

Apprentice Captains:

Portgas D Ace

Born Gol, took mother’s family name instead

Ate the Mera Mera no Mi because he was shipwrecked and forgot to pay attention to what he was eating

Portgas D Sabo

A “First Generation” D

Formerly Outlook, forgot this due to brain trauma

Joined the crew at 13 when the Anarchy Pirates stole him from the Revolutionary Army

Ate the Yami Yami no Mi because Luffy did a Dumb Thing

Portgas D Luffy

Formerly Monkey

Ate the Gomu Gomu no Mi because he thought it was a desert

Gonna be the next King of Pirates

[missinghan]

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown. 

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles. 

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals. 

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention. 

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time. 

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself. 

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them. 

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible. 

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time. 

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever. 

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them. 

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them. 

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets. 

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches. 

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time. 

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends. 

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out. 

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks. 

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat. 

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise. 

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars. 

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.