#why can’t the axes rank up? there’s more than one axe

[justanotherwaywardsoul]

just finished the pvp civ s1 finale. I HAVE EMOTIONS ABOIT THIS

anyone wanna spill their theories in the notes thanks I need something to stave off the brainworms

[momolady]

Bear the Goblin: Part One

A fun little romp featuring an adventurous goblin barbarian and her favorite hangout spot. After a great quest, she loves nothing more than going back to the place she feels most comfortable and taking part in her favorite hobby.

Female Main Character/Monster (cis) x Multiple Partners

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There is so much in this world to enjoy, I can’t understand why some people get so bogged down. Even during bad times, surely there is something you can look at and go ‘Ah, that’s worth a smile’. Ever since I was little I was like this, not because I consider myself overly optimistic or anything. I seemed to be able to get excited about whatever.

My father was a highly sought out blacksmith, so our home was always filled with all sorts of adventurers, rogues, hunters, and whatever. They come to my father wanting all these amazing weapons or armor and I would just be in awe of them. As I got a little older, I would make them in awe of me. This led to me being kicked out of the house, but it was even a reason for me to get excited. I joined with a group of travelers, picked up an axe, and I went out into the world as one of those people I had been in awe of for so long. I didn’t surprise me at all I was good at it, what did surprise me was how much I loved it.

Traveling, fighting, hunting, doing whatever I wanted was great. I got to meet so many people and do so many amazing things. I would go home occasionally, but my favorite place in the world to go to was the Granmouth Pub. It had become more home to me than anywhere.

The owner, Moth, had become a good friend over the years and he had a room for me whenever I needed it. I suppose I could be a nuisance to him too, but we always kissed and made up eventually.

Strolling in one evening after a long journey, I noticed a large group in the back all huddled together. Approaching the bar, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. They all looked fresh and new, excited but slightly scared.

“Don’t even think about it, Bear.” Moth growled at me.

“What?” I huffed back at him as I leaned over the bar.

Moth glared at me, his dark eyes bore into me. He knew me too well, and that was a problem. “Don’t ‘what’ me, you aggravating half-pint.” He thrust a stein of beer at me. Moth was a massive half-orc fella, and nicknamed so because of the birthmark that covered his face which looked like, well, a moth. I used to flirt hard with him in the beginning of our friendship, but now we trade barbs like any close friends.

“Just looking. I can look, can't I?” I turned back to the young group, seeing amongst their ranks a couple of orcs, a minotaur, a tiefling, and a rakshasa.

“‘Looking’ for you often means something else,” Moth snarled. “Things have been quiet since you were last here and I’ve found I enjoyed it.”

I smirked back at him. “As if you don’t miss me sucking your cock.”

Moth’s nostrils flared as he glared down at me. “Do you ever get tired?”

“Never. My stamina is vast and as far as I know, bottomless.” I hand him back the empty stein. “Unlike your tap.”

Moth grumbled something under his breath as he refilled my mug. “They’re a young group, refugees from Obresh.”

I clicked my tongue as I looked back at the group. “I see.”

Moth gripped my hand as I tried to take my beer. He flashed me a warning look. “I know I can’t stop you from doing anything, Bear. Just go easy on them.”

I snickered and freed myself from him. “You make me sound like some sort of troublemaker.”

Moth didn’t like my joke. “You are.”

I got up from my stool and strolled over towards the table. One of the Orcs caught sight of me first and quickly pulled up the map they were looking over. The others all turned to look at me and a couple stiffened into a defensive position. They all looked ready for the part as a ragtag team, but I could smell how fresh they were. They hadn’t been at this long, if at all. Being a veteran in this field, I would be willing to offer my services to them.

I put on my best smile just for them. “Fine group you have gathered here. What’s the deal?”

The tiefling’s eyes narrowed upon me, glinting bright gold in the torch light. He glanced back to the orc who I assumed was the leader. “What’s your deal?” The tiefling tossed at me.

“Just a lonely little goblin who sees an exhausted crew.” I raised my stein to them. “Simply wish to make some decent conversation.”

The one orc glared at me while the rest seemed to wait for his command. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Polite fella! Big and polite, always a good combo. “Come now, it looks like you could use some feminine company.”

The tiefling cleared his throat then quickly looked away.

“Oh? Are you still listening to mommy and not talking to strangers?” I giggled. “Well, let me remedy that. My name is Bear-”

“Bear?” The minotaur balked. “As in the goblin barbarian?”

I smiled proudly. They had heard of me! “That’s right.”

“No way,” the second orc laughed. “You look way too small to be Bear.”

The first orc glared at him. “Facer, shut up.”

“I’d be happy to prove myself to you boys if you don’t believe me. Always happy to do that.” I finished off my beer and set the stein aside. “I’m happy for any sort of company on this fine evening.”

The first orc turned away from his friends and looked at me. “Sorry, ma’am-”

“Ma’am?” I blurted and behind me I heard Moth clear his throat loudly.

The leader orc was frowning as he looked at me. “We’re just tired, we really don’t want any trouble.”

“I wasn’t offering trouble until your little friend tried questioning me.” I glanced back to the one he called Facer. “Also, it’s quite rude to not introduce yourself after I so graciously did.”

“Brom, I’m Brom,” the minotaur said instantly, despite the exasperated look on their leader’s face.

The tiefling sighed. “I’m Spring and this is Prem,” he motioned to the rakshasa. “He’s shy.”

“And you’re Facer,” I smirked to the second orc whos till looked pissed. I grinned up at the leader. “And who might you be, young man?”

His brow pinched. “Sarod.”

“Oh! Like the old god. Your parents must have hated them to name you that,” I laughed.

Sarod sneered down at me. “Listen, we’re kind of busy and hoping to get some rest soon. It’s been nice meeting you-”

“You haven’t met me just yet!” I interrupted. I hopped up, taking the seat beside Sarod. “That evening has just gotten started! What’s the rush to end it so soon?” I placed my hand on Sarod’s thigh, slowly moving it up and down. “Besides, I can’t help but feel like you need my services.”

Sarod’s face turned a darker shade of red but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Because you’re a mercenary right?” Spring asked. He had dark wine red skin and curly black hair. He was so pretty I might have been jealous.

“That too,” I chuckled. “I'm actually looking for a crew to join. I wouldn’t mind teaming up with a bunch of strapping young men like yourself.” My hand in Sarod’s lap was moving towards something warm, something delicious.

“How do we even know you’re ‘the Bear’,” Facer scoffed. “You look like some scrawny goblin from where I’m sitting.”

I cut my eyes at him, he sounded so bratty. “I offered to show you. Why not take me up on it? Or are you afraid?”

Facer scoffed and looked away.

Brom leaned over the table towards me. “Is it true that you found the lost city of Bougaize?”

I smirked, continuing to pet Sarod’s lap under the table. “I wouldn’t call it a city, so much as a bunch of ruins. But yes, I did. It was being used as a hideout for the Nethermark thieves.”

“They’re a fairy tale,” Facer scoffed.

“Are they?” I took my hand off Sarod’s for one second to remove a keepsake from my bag of lucky charms. I laid out the Nethermark emblem on the table for them to inspect. “Sometimes fairy tales have a hint of truth to them.”

They huddled around to get a look at the carved stone emblem. I had taken it from one of the thieves after a good fight. They had kidnapped a rich trademan’s son for ransom and I got him back.

“How do we know this isn’t fake?” Facer wasn’t going to be fooled, not that I was trying or anything.

I snatched back the charm and put it away. “You don’t, but I do.” I then saw two guys come into the bar that I knew. I blew them both and they left me with nothing. I put them on my shit list after that. Anyone who doesn’t reciprocate a lady isn’t worth the time of day. Of course, they noticed me and approached the table.

“Hey Bear, long time no see,” one said.

“Would like to see you like we used to,” the other laughed.

I inched closer to Sarod. “I told y'all you wouldn’t be seeing me that way ever again.” I found the source of Sarod’s heat, and my god, it was huge.

The first guy grabbed my arm. “Come on Bear, let us make it up to you.”

I slapped his hand away. “Fuck off. Can’t you see I’m with my friends?” Spring and Prem both flinched at this comment.

I was grabbed again, but this time I kicked him hard. The second guy rushed the table and Spring reacted, hitting them down. There was silence for a long pause, but soon, the bar erupted into a brawl. I knew I’d owe Moth for this, but I always ended up in debt to him one way or another.

Some tables and chairs were destroyed at the end of the evening, but luckily none of the windows were harmed. Moth closed down for the evening while I took the hapless group to the back to tend to whatever wounds they had.

Facer had a nasty cut on his forehead that I took care of first. “You fight pretty good,” he mumbled.

I smirked. “I know.”

“Sorry things got out of hand,” Spring said.

“You boys did good, nothing to be worried about. In fact, I think I owe you all a reward.” I took off my top and exposed my breasts to them. I could see their gazes change, and the energy of the room crackled. I smirked as Moth came into the back and rolled his eyes at me.

“Just don’t break anything else,” he growled and shut the door.

Facer reached out, touching one of my soft breasts with his big hand. I moaned softly in reply, letting them know I was ready and willing for anything. Silent little Prem came forward, placing his warm, wet mouth around my other breast. His rough tongue felt amazing against my skin and I broke into a huge, hungry grin.

“You sure about this?” Sarod growled.

I moaned again as Facer got closer and Prem’s mouth glided down my side. “It’s my favorite thing in the world besides fighting, and I’ve already done that tonight.”

Sarod licked his lips, watching as Facer took out his cock and placed it in my hand. I stroked the young orc, marveling at his girth even when soft. Prem was going lower, kneeling down before me and removing my loincloth. Spring stepped in, also placing his cock in my hand. He was nice and long, and such a pretty color. I stroked him with Facer, biting my lip as I imagined what these young men could do to me. I cried out as Prem began licking me below, his rough tongue pressed between my mound, finding my clit hot and ready.

“Such a good boy, Prem,” I giggled. “Oh fuck, that tongue!”

Spring turned my head and pressed the tip of his cock against my lips. “Speaking of tongue.” I let his cock in, happily slurping upon it as Brom came forward, taking my now free hand. He was heavy and had a set of balls that could kill a man if he used them right. In the back, Sarod watched us, his cock pulsing hard against his pants.

Prem was now purring against me and the vibrations were driving me wild. I gagged on Spring’s cock and had to pull back to catch a breath, only for Facer to thrust his thick shaft into my mouth. This was exactly what I wanted. All this handsome young men using me and fucking me, I never felt more alive. I caught Spring and Brom kissing so I turned and sucked Brom’s cock. Facer rubbed his soaking cock against my breast, and Prem slid his fingers inside me.

Sarod finally approached, he dropped his pants and picked me up to kiss me. I moaned against his lips, tasting a bit of blood from the fight earlier. He then took me, sliding his giant cock inside me. Thank god for Prem and his feasting, or he might have never fit. Sarod was the second biggest dick I’d ever had. The first belonged to Moth.

Prem stepped up, putting his cock in my mouth. I was suspended between the two, taking them both as they thrust into me. Prem’s cock was trembling already, and his sweet, delicate moans made me grow even more excited. Sarod’s was silent, thrusting deep into my pussy while his hands dug hard into my hips.

The other watches, stroking themselves as they took int he sight. Spring knelt down, sucking their cocks like I had before. I felt a kindred spirit with Spring, we were cut from the same cloth. Prem pulled away, huffing and puffing even though he hadn’t come yet. He stroked himself to finish, coming all over my face and stuck out tongue. Facer took his place, thrusting into my mouth as far as he could.

“Sarod, let me have a turn,” Spring purred. His fingers trailed around my spread lips and then to my ass. He used my honey to slick his fingers and slip them inside. I moaned against Facer’s cock, which was starting to tremble.

Facer wasn’t ready to come, so he pulled away. We moved to the ground and Sarod slipped back inside me. Spring got behind me, kissing my ass then licking the tight pucker. I cried out, wriggling against Sarod’s cock as Spring’s tongue slipped into my ass.

Broms stepped forward, slipping into my mouth to muffle my cries. Spring then stood, and ever so slowly, he entered me. Finally, I was full. I could be content like this, being used and fucked until their balls were drained. Brom was the next to come, pouring his load down my throat and a little onto Sarod’s face. I licked up the mess, letting Sarod’s taste it.

Facer waited, watching as Spring and Sarod stir me up. Spring didn’t come, but he did pull out of me. He let Facer take his place and watched gleefully until Prem came forward and started sucking his cock.

“You boys do this often?” I teased Sarod.

Sarod growled, he showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. I could fall for a guy like Sarod. He changed positions again, standing up so that I was sandwiched between him and Facer. It was there I came, gushing down Sarod’s cock and crying out against Facer’s lips. I tightened and squeezed them both, knowing someone would have to follow soon. Facer was next, finishing inside me where I could feel his hot seed even after he pulled out. I was then left alone with Sarod bouncing me on his cock, using me like a toy. He stroked me up and down his massive cock, still no end in sight.

Thanks to their youth, the boys had gotten hard again. I became spit roasted again between Sarod and Brom, who was being fucked by Spring at the same time. Their thrusts were hard and powerful, and Brom came a second time down my throat. Prem knelt below Sarod, licking my clit and Sarod’s balls. The sensation was wonderful and I came again, somehow stronger than before. My body was growing weak and they were able to move me around more easily. Still, Sarod’s stamina had not given out. Even as the others were tiring, he was still going, still fucking me even as I became a rag doll.

When Sarod was close his cock began to twitch. Deep inside there was a yearning for it. I had been waiting all evening  for this. I managed to pick myself up and respond to his thrusts. I squeezed tight around him, silently begging for his release. Sarod snarled and growled, his thrusts growing harder each time. He was wrecking my guts, he was so deep, and I loved it. His massive cock pulsed within me, urging me closer to another orgasam. I whined and whimpered, so weak from their affections and efforts. I would be sore and useless in the morning, and I had to pay off my debts to Moth. Sarod roared, bucking deep into me and nearly lifting me off the floor. I screamed, overcome by so many sensations. Sarod filled me so full it started leaking out. He pulled out to see the damage his cock had done. Pleased with himself, he smiled and opened me up to watch all his seed drip from me. I was smug in my victory, having conquered all five of them, I couldn’t be more pleased.

Once all of them were asleep, I gathered my things and went into the pub to get something to drink. At first I didn’t notice Moth, but when he rose from a table I was startled.

“Have fun?” He scoffed.

“What’re you doing up? You scared me.” I poured myself some beer, drinking deeply. My throat felt sore and I could barely walk, which made this beer taste even better.

Moth walked behind the bar where I stood. I looked up at him, seeing the hungry look in his eyes. “You could have joined us.”

Moth picked me up and set me on the bar, spreading my legs to look at me. His fingers gently touched my lips, so used and stretched by Sarod’s cock. More seed spilled onto Moth’s clean bar and he moaned deep within his chest.

“Sorry about the mess, you know I’m good for it.” I wriggled my hips out a little further so he could see even my tight pucker was used.

Moth leaned down, licking me and slurping up the mess. I was so sensitive that it was a mix of absolute pleasure and a touch of pain. I wiggled as he licked me, even cleaning my ass. He stepped back, wiping his mouth as he glared at me. “Rest up,” he snarled. “You’re paying off your debt tomorrow.”

“I know,” I smirked. “And I’m looking forward to it.”

[jessicas-pi]

So my brain did A Thing, and I miiiight just have like 2k words of plot outline, but i'm also notorious for not finishing stuff, so idk how this is gonna end, but for now...

Between strikes of the hammer and flying sparks, the blacksmith took a moment to puzzle over his apprentice, who was splitting wood in the courtyard.

She was sixteen years old, lean without being waifish, and a perfect enigma. Oh, her story had been simple enough, and most people believed it.

Orphan. Nameless. Left on the poorhouse steps when I was only days old. Can’t read, can’t write. Good at hard work.

But she held herself like a noblewoman, and the thought of taking orders from other people seemed to irritate her. The callouses on her hands were new. She was not world-worn, and he’d seen her eyes skim across lines of lettering with perfect understanding, when she thought he wasn’t watching.

(Oh, and he’d also noticed her eyeing the occasional suit of armor he made. Her keen gaze studied every strike of the hammer, as if memorizing it to duplicate it herself some day.)

It was all that which made him certain—there was no truth to her story.

And therein lay the enigma: if she had been of a noble, or at least high-ranking, family, why would she give it up?

But in the end, Fenn didn’t ask questions. It was her business, not his. And besides, he didn't want to drive her away by being nosy. She was a good blacksmith’s apprentice, devoting herself to all her tasks with enthusiasm, even love.

Well, he thought, jaw twitching with amusement, as the door of the smithy banged open and the uncoordinated footsteps of a schoolboy clattered inside. All her tasks, save one.

----

The clang of metal and the smell of smoke were the first signals that Ezra was nearing the blacksmith's forge.

He rounded the corner of the street in the little market town and the smithy came into view. His pace accelerated to a run.

"Watch it!" someone bellowed as he dodged around their cart, crossing the street diagonally. He looked over his shoulder and waved apologetically. The cart-driver just rolled their eyes at him. Barely slowing in time, he crashed through the doorway of the smithy, pausing to catch his breath before pulling the scrap of paper from his pocket and advancing farther to the back of the forge.

It was hotter than the hottest summer day inside the forge, and the smoky smell was almost suffocating. Ezra pressed the sleeve of his jacket over his face as he entered the main room, glancing around, only to be disappointed.

His expression must have shown, because the blacksmith huffed softly under his breath.

“She’s in the courtyard,” he announced, between strikes of his hammer. “Give her the list.”

“Thank you, Rau!” Ezra called, skipping out the back door.

His eyes scanned the courtyard, looking for the face he'd been waiting all day to see. There, by the far wall, back to him, splitting wood.

Half-raising a hand in a wave, he called out to her.

“Hello, there!”

Her ax swung particularly hard, and the piece of wood split with a crack, the blade of the ax lodging itself deep in the cutting block.

She turned around to face him as he approached, and his heart skittered.

Logically, he knew his fancy for her was silly. She was covered in soot, smelled of smoke and sweat, and her hair clung limply to her face. He'd never once seen her in a dress; rather, her typical uniform seemed to consist of a tunic, breeches, and leather apron with gloves to match, all covered in scorch marks and more than one burn hole or two.

A blacksmith’s apprentice. The forge-girl.

And he thought she was lovely.

His schoolfellows didn't bother to speak to her. When they did notice her, it was either to sneer at the girl who had to work a man’s job to survive, to pity the orphan who lived in a single-room hovel, or occasionally to laugh at the absurdity of whatever new rumor the old coots were spreading about her. But that was rare. Most of them just... didn't know she existed.

Yet there was something about her, some life, some glow, that, after the first day they'd met, kept him coming back.

Well.

No.

That wasn’t completely true.

What kept him coming back was the fact that his parents were tradesmen who had an agreement with the blacksmith to sell his wares for him, and Ezra was the delivery-boy for the daily lists of what they needed.

But she was the reason he didn’t complain about it.

“Here,” he said with a grin that only seemed to make her scowl deeper, holding out the list. “This is what we need.”

The blacksmith’s apprentice snatched it from his hand without a word and turned to bring it inside, grabbing a bucket on her way.

“Forge-girl,” Ezra called out. He had been hoping she would stay a minute or two more, and they could at least talk. Why, he didn't know; she never said more than three words to him at a time.

She kept walking away from him, and he scrambled for something to say. When he did speak, his words came out sounding... ruder than he’d meant them to be.

“Forge-girl! Make sure to bring the things on time tomorrow. Father says you’ve been late the past few days.”

She stopped in her tracks. Her hand clenched on the paper.

“As you wish,” she growled.

[harbingerofsoup]

The comprehensive guide for why absolutely everyone should read and watch this work of art.

First of all, Iruma is best boy! He loves his friends and his family, his instinct is to help others, and like… just look at him. So good, so pure. But what truly makes Iruma a protagonist worthy of having a slide to himself is his character development. He actually starts off as a completely selfless person due to how his awful parents groomed him, and his whole character arc is learning how to be more selfish. Of course, Iruma’s selfishness manifests as eating all the food he wants, holding on to his family and friends, and finding ambition.

Sullivan (the first guy) adopts Iruma as his grandson after his parents sold him. This dude radiates grandpa energy and his number one priority is to spoil his new grandson. He’s also the principal of the school he sends Iruma too. And one of the most powerful demons in the netherworld. Opera is Sullivan’s butler, and warms up to Iruma a bit slower than Sullivan (so like a few days). They’re not very expressive facially. Rather they mainly express emotions through their ears and tail. They’re a total Badass™ and surprisingly mischievous. Alice Asmodeus (on the left of the 3rd pic) swore his undying loyalty to Iruma after Iruma accidentally kicked his ass. This man is ride or die, and honestly my words can’t do him justice so it’s better if you just experience this gay disaster for yourself. Clara Valac (right of the same pic) is a gremlin and I love her. Her priority is to play with her friends All. The. Time. But she also has insecurities about her personality after it stopped her from making friends. I put Ameri Azazel (please step on me) in between them. She’s the student council president, a badass, and a huge romantic. Naberius Kalego is the homeroom teacher of the misfit class (the class Iruma ends up in.) He’s a Very strict teacher, but genuinely cares about his students and is good at his job. There are so many other characters, but I want to avoid spoilers and get sleep tonight.

14 year old Suzuki Iruma was raised by his parents to do chores and make them money. Eventually they decided that he wasn’t bringing in enough, so they sold him to a demon who takes him to the netherworld. Instead of eating him though, Sullivan (the demon) asks him to become his grandson, and Iruma, who’s unable to say no under any circumstances, says yes. He starts school at the demon school Babyls (pictured above) where he attends as the only human. Of course if anyone finds out they’ll eat him. While at school, he realizes that he doesn’t have an ambition of his own, so Ameri suggests that he try climbing the ranks (all demons are ranked by their power you know the drill).

This manga is hilarious! With such jokes as Iruma eating a ridiculous amount of food, every interaction between Asmodeus and Clara, and Ameri’s obsession with shojo manga. One of the funniest bits is that due to some unfortunate circumstances, Kalego becomes Iruma’s familiar, and you’ll learn all about this if you check it out, but for now all you need to know is that that fluffy chicken is Kalego. Crossdressing has been used for comedy like three times now, but not in a degrading way. It’s not the butt of the joke or anything. That’s Iruma, and he looks fucking amazing as many other characters have said many times 100% seriously. Moving on, cause explaining humor is difficult!

I adore how Clara is allowed to be a hyperactive gremlin, and I’m not talking “oh she’s quirky” I’m talking playing involves battle axes and acting like a demon bowling ball. You know the trope where the powerful girl isn’t actually that serious and instead is a huge romantic? Well Ameri may be a romantic, but her seriousness isn’t an act. She is 100% dedicated to her ambitions. And look at the designs for some of the recurring background characters! Too often in fantasy settings the female monsters, demons, etc are reduced to almost entirely human, with the exact same body type, and maybe horns or something. Not Here! There’s also the girls in the misfit class who all have their own motivations and interests. I’m also now realizing how many tall girls are in this series… awesome.

Ok so the fact that there’s even more than one queer character already make this amazing. But in addition to that, it’s never treated like a big deal. I mean look at the second picture “gender doesn’t matter to demons” love wins! So Eiko is a recurring character who has a huge crush on both Iruma and Ameri, and later becomes comrades with Asmodeus specifically when it comes to Iruma (they share photos of him it’s hilarious). Asmodeus having a crush on Iruma isn’t explicitly stating, but like I’d like to see someone argue that he doesn’t. Besides, his feelings are always treated the same as Clara’s and Eiko’s when it comes to Iruma. The holy grail of representation though is Opera who’s never referred to by gendered terms. The english dub of the anime actually specifically uses they/them pronouns. When I tell you I screamed! I could go on, but I’m I’m trying to avoid introducing too many characters.

In Mairimashita! Iruma-kun a good family supports and loves each other completely, regardless of blood relations. But it’s not either or. Sullivan, Opera, and Iruma are my golden standard for found family. I mean their love of Iruma is over the top and unconditional, which is what Iruma needs after a life without any such love from his parents. Biological relations are shown as something that isn’t always great, yet it’s not something to be expected either. Clara’s family is a gift, and Asmodeus’ family is one of the funniest dynamics I’ve seen.

These are typically considered negative traits, but here they are portrayed as desirable and useful. And it’s a convincing argument. Through Iruma we see that having your own ambitions and getting pissed is necessary for living a fulfilling life, and we see this because he starts out without having that. Every single time Iruma declares his own ambitions or says something selfish it’s just… chills. It’s always a powerful scene. Whenever Iruma gets truly pissed over something (which has legitimately only happened twice) we all cheer cause we’re so proud of him. I could write a whole essay about this one aspect of the story, but just know that I consider this to be an incredibly compelling narrative, and my favorite part of Mairimashita! Iruma-kun.

In conclusion, I’m posting this on my birthday, so as a present I would like more people to get into this fandom because it deserves a larger fanbase.

[rumblelibrary]

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend” 

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up. 

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it 

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[sheacouleecametoslay]

Season 6 (2014)

Season 6 is often regarded as the best Drag Race season ever. A part of me thinks Season 5 was better, but that season also had Roxxxy Andrews on it. There's no one that I truly can't stand on Season 6; the worst I can come up with is Magnolia having a bad attitude and Milk's style not being for me. Even Darienne Lake had her moments, which caught me by surprise on a rewatch. But I felt like Season 5 had more classic moments and classic characters ya know? Still I think I'm going to give both seasons the same grade. I think it's because Season 6 serves as the transition between the early years and the middle era; before the Untucked format changed, before Santino left. It's also when the show switched-up the "Cover Girl" transition. It's the first season where the queens are required to wear the same outfit in every confessional. And the term "She-Mail" is about to be axed from the show (finally), all thanks to that awful mini-challenge. This season has a strong set of challenges. The only ones I didn't like were the Chaz/Georgia interview and the wedding Makeover. Both of which had uncomfortable moments. Especially the latter, since one of the grooms was forced to do it by his fiancée, and he was visibly uncomfortable with the whole experience. Also, the design challenges in the double premiere had some lackluster runways in them. But other than that, Season 6 has one of the best Snatch Games. For once, more than just 3 queens are funny. We have the first ever Rusical, and this one involved live singing. It pitted the two singers Courtney and Adore against each other, and while some other queens fumbled their lines, and the April/Josyln/Laganja trio was a mess, it's often regarded as one of the best. The body painting mini-challenge was a cool idea too. The 90s Rap Battle was fun. Bianca killed the stand-up. And "Scream Queens" was a decent acting challenge. Episode 7 felt very contrived though. It was giving me flashbacks to the duets in Season 4. The pairings were obviously done on purpose - Adore & Laganja were having their friendship tested, Bianca & Trinity already had drama, Darienne & Ben also had tension, and Courtney & Joslyn had a celebrity/fan dynamic. The producers just put all the drama pairings together. In a way I'm glad that was the Double Shantay episode. Least of all because Darienne won that lip sync against Ben, and I doubt production wanted Ben gone so soon. It also affected the schedule, meaning that someone actually Sashay'ed in the final regular episode of the season. It also helps that the main song of Season 6 is "Sissy That Walk", which is probably Ru's signature song. It wasn't my favourite finale music video, but those weird poses in the photoshoot were... something. The double premiere is another factor that helped this season. It helped the audience get to know the queens better when it wasn't 14 people competing for screen time. It made the early boots feel less forgettable than usual. Untucked had Bianca asking Trinity "What do you do successfully", Laganja saying "I feel very attacked", Laganja breaking down in general.

Queens Ranking: 14. Magnolia Crawford In her intro, Magnolia kept changing her mind on how to label herself, before settling "glamorous trash queen". A description that didn't really apply to what we saw. She then metaphorically threw her hands up in the air after seeing the materials she had to work with. And that sour attitude is why she did so poorly. Her first runway was that basic cow-print, with the bow on her ass, and the unflattering dark nose contour. The judges read her for it and she got really defensive and irritated in response. She also blamed everything on the materials. I think Ru was done with Magnolia the moment she talked back lol. She said on Untucked she was just there for the exposure anyways. Did she even know the words to that lip sync? 13. Milk The original quirky queen. Milk was committed to doing her own weird thing and defying the accepted norms of RPDR; without a single regard for what the judges, or anyone else for that matter, thought about it. Her entrance look had toilet paper on her shoe. Her runways included a white beard, a Pinocchio nose, a baby bump, and of course Werk Room RuPaul in boy drag. That last one is why I put her bottom 3 for Snatch Game over Trinity. Milk is someone you either love or hate, and she definitely has her fans, but her style is not for me. In the challenges, she was okay in the beginning. But her Julia Child in Snatch Game was boring. And her rap verse included the line "if you're looking for a dude or in the preggers mood"; alongside some rather cringey dance moves in the video. Ironically enough, the round she left was the only time she did a "normal" runway. Also her lip sync moves to "Whatta Man" didn't match the song. 12. Kelly Mantle Kelly's whole story was that she had 17 years of drag experience, along with some acting experience, but it didn't materialize on the show. Her first runway was that horrible bacon dress with the red wig. She also started the season off with a subtle dig at Willam. She later made a dig at Vivacious's age. And... that's about all I got. A hint of shadiness to her personality but she's the one S6 queen I could consider "forgettable". 11. Darienne Lake The annual RPDR cockroach. Why she lasted until Final 4 just to be the most obvious final elimination this side of Alexis Michelle remains a mystery. I guess cuz she brought the drama? But Darienne delivered basic runway after basic runway. Her St Patrick's Day outfit landed her in the bottom 2 in her debut episode. The elephant outfit was tacky. Her goth Makeover didn't work out so well. And then there's the Glitter Ball!, where she had 3 of the worst looks of the entire season. That was not Executive Realness. Those dropping topaz jewels! She was also really bitter for some reason? She made comments on Milk's outfit, she said "why not just give her cement shoes and throw her in the water", and of course she had a random feud with Ben because Ben was gloating about her wins. Darienne also overestimated her challenge performances, even thinking she was top 3 in the Rusical when she was out of step with Gia. Moreover, her rap verse didn't describe who she is. And her interviewing was awkward. But Darienne had some comedic moments - she won as a talking head in a box, she interjected a bunch as Paula Deen in the Snatch Game, her stand-up was suprisingly solid, and she even won the Reading mini-challenge. Plus that lip sync where she grabbed the tips was fun. 10. Laganja Estranja The annual RPDR trainwreck. "OKURRRR"; "YASS GAWD". Laganja's death drop entrance is iconic, but she spent the entire season embodying this forced, phony, exaggerated weed-smoker persona. It's like she was trying to be someone that she's not, and it got really annoying. She had this posh voice in confessional. She'd come into the Werk Room with things on her head and Bianca would call her an attention-seeker. She got upset when her friend Adore outperformed her. And she wrote her stand-up routine underneath a desk. Speaking of which, that stand-up routine was such a WTF moment ("it's very dry, it's almost kinda like your vagina"). That was her persona cranked to an 11; the outfit was a choice too. Moreover, her Rachel Zoe in Snatch Game was robotic and unfunny. Still, her rap verse was alright; probably my 4th place. She pulled out the splits and death drops during her lip syncs. And her Best Drag runway was good. Laganja also got emotional in Untucked a lot; from Bianca joking about her parents video, to the iconic "I feel very attacked" episode, where she lashed out after being confronted about her persona. Even Adore was saying that isn't the Laganja she knows. 9. April Carrión April spent the season metaphorically burying her head in her hands, feeling doubtful in all 3 challenges. She wasn't happy with the Duck Dynasty box in the first episode, but she turned it out in the final product. It was the second best outfit from her group. In episode 2, she didn't know how to play a butch queen, but she delivered one of my favourite runways of the season - that umbrella with the blue string rain. But then the Rusical was another messy performance from April, and that was end of her run. She didn't have a big personality anyways. 8. Vivacious Vivacious is mostly this high for Ornacia. The way she struggled to unzip her outfit during her entrance lol. I think she was too old-school for what RPDR is looking for, especially by Season 6. She had 21 years of drag experience and labelled herself as the last original NYC club kid. That's era that she wanted to represent on the show and she wasn't going to change or compromise her style to adapt to the modern era. But I didn't like that black cone outfit either way. Also her Game of Thrones runway look sloppy. She even wanted to put a baby dragon on it and Ru was not won over lol. As for her performance in "Scream Queens", the producers could've edited out that long awkward pause, but her lines still lacked energy. 7. Courtney Act Courtney had great runways - the waitress outfit, the spreading bird wings, the Australian/aboriginal flag combination, the Ruby look in the Glitter Ball. But she's like Raja or Detox; I respect their craft but find them hard to root for. She came off like one of those celebrities who can't relate to non-celebrities. The lifestyle is so different. Her main criticism was that she lacked humanity. And she won the talk show challenge because she made an effort to rectify that. She also won the Rusical because her big vocal moments stole the show. She could've been top 3 in "Scream Queens" too if it weren't based on teams. But the rest of her challenge performances were very safe/mid. She seriously resorted to singing in her stand-up. I think the producers were giving Courtney a villain edit as well. She was pretty patronizing to Joslyn, who idolized her. It made it seem like she doesn't treat her fans well. She upstaged her Makeover partner. She spent her confessionals poking flaws in her competitors. And she showed off her body multiple times on the runway, giving Carmen Carrera flashbacks. Her entrance is still one of my faves though - when she pretended to walk into the wrong room. 6. Joslyn Fox "Keep it Foxy, wonk wonk". The utter lack of self-awareness with this girl. "I do like to eat at IHOP"; "I have house numbers" (Bianca: "it's your age"); "I've finally narrowed down my fabrics" (camera shows a giant pile of fabric); "I plan on being the black horse"; "I wanna lick Santino's head"... and that's just from her debut episode! She also gave us "not my cup of soup"; the "jumbo shrimp" joke and "I like gumbo". Joslyn had this giddy, smiling approach to everything. She was average in most challenges, and her runways were subpar (two episodes in a row of those straps; that overly busy Quinceanera outfit; that checkered thing in the stand-up), but her cluelessness was weirdly endearing. Her Teresa Giudice in Snatch Game was funny too ("Cumin!"). Her rap verse was good. She kinda slayed that P!nk lip sync. And her getting married in the finale was a nice moment. But Joslyn really crashed and burned in the latter half. She had one good joke in the stand-up. She wasted time choosing an outfit instead of preparing for the interview. She then asked Georgia Holt about abortion (and somehow thought that interview went well). And her demise was the Makeover, where production screwed her over by getting rid of the dark toned make-up after Trinity left. She was the obvious queen to go though. 5. Gia Gunn When Gia entered the Werk Room with that hula hoop purse, I thought she was going to be a top contender. She gave main character energy; between her rude reads in confessional and just being clueless - "What's a Tony?"; "I'm feeling my oats"; "Darinne, you know... my god... there's room for everybody let's just say that"; "well you girls... look good"; "I've never heard of a Delorean, for all I know it's a f**king ancient dildo"; "...if it's not giving it, maybe it's just not for you". Or even saying "absolutely" 3 times in a row to the judges. Or how poorly she sold her ideas to Ru in the Werk Room. Gia impressed with her first runway, even if I thought it was generic. But then came the performance challenges and... yeah, Gia was not a good actress or singer. Her ultimate downfall was the Snatch Game. Her Kim K was rough to watch. And she originally wanted to do Selena lol. BTW, can someone please tell Gia to get off of Twitter? Even on this season I get the vibe that she thinks she knows what she's talking about when she doesn't. But I don't think she crossed a line on this season? Unless I missed something. 4. BenDeLaCreme Ben should've stayed over Darienne, and it should've been a 4-person finale. I think the judges were too harsh on her. I mean, yeah the rapping challenge proved that she lacked versality. Her verse was so cringe ("Creminem!") and I would've put her in the bottom 3 for that. I also wasn't fond of her showgirl drag voice at first. But her down-to-Earth, mild-mannered out-of-drag voice balanced things out. She had one of the best Snatch Game performances ever as Maggie Smith ("excuse me we originated the language"). She won the first challenge with that cheesecake thing. I liked her Chaz/Georgia interview better than Courtney's. She could've won the "Scream Queens" challenge, but was stuck on the losing team. She was top 3 in the Rusical. And I almost gave her the win for the Makeover. Ben was strong this season. She came off professional and well-trained. Her bug and her fur runways were great as well. Her low points were the stand-up routine, where she just rambled on and on and got heckled. The cosmetics ad, but I think her and Darienne were set-up; and I don't know why they aimed it at plastic surgery users. And of course the Glitter Ball, where her first two looks were disappointing. 3. Adore Delano "Party". Adore is weirdly charming for someone who was unprepared and unprofessional for many challenges this season. The first few episodes were a wake-up-call that she couldn't skate by. She had no sewing skills, and it showed in that horrible Honey Boo Boo dress. It was even stuck to the mannequin! Next episode she was team leader and rushed through assigning the roles, which ended in disaster. Her acting wasn't the worst though. She was also read for not cinching her waist early on. The Rusical began her redemption arc, where she stood out as the star of her group. After that, she was funny as Anna Nicole Smith in Snatch Game. And she embodied 90s rap the best. But then she stumbled again - her stand-up routine was messy (but at least she had jokes), she was unprepared for the Chaz/Georgia interview, and her wedding Makeover was rough. She bounced back a second time by winning the Glitter Ball, but her 2nd look wasn't as good; and I only liked the 3rd one for the presentation of it. Adore knew how to work the runway. I thought her Aretha lip sync was too intense though. Adore had this casual approach to the show, while still wanting to prove herself. She kinda came off as someone that I'd want to be friends with? and I think that's why her charm worked. 2. Trinity K. Bonet Introvert queen! That entrance was so awkward when she was waiting with Bianca lol. Trinity's story was her reluctant attitude in the challenges. She let her acting  inexperience get in her head and it put her in the bottom 2 three times. It reached a boiling point during the Rusical episode, where she was very grumpy during rehearsal and later lashed out in the Werk Room. Still, I felt there was worse offenders each time she was in the bottom 2. Sure Trinity tripped over a line in the Rusical, but at least she was in sync with Bianca. Her rap verse lacked conviction, but she had better writing than some others. She kept calling Chaz Bono "Chad" in the interview, but how is that worse than an abortion question? Her Nicki Minaj in Snatch Game wasn't great either. But at the same time, those bottom 2 placements lead to Trinity becoming the Lip Sync Assassin of Season 6. She was the best lip syncer in the cast, and one of the top runway queens too - the Princess Party, the hippie, the domino dress, the bird feathers. I think she should've won the cosmetics ad with Bianca (that was a missed storyline opportunity), but her stand-up routine the next episode was even better redemption moment. Otherwise, her HIV confession was an emotional moment. And I didn't like when her enunciation was criticized. 1. Bianca Del Rio As if anyone else was going to be #1. This season was a cakewalk for Bianca - no one else stood chance. It was almost unfair to the other competitors. She was never in the bottom 3. She never flopped a challenge. She was cracking remarks in her entrance. She never stopped hurling those insulting remarks or reality checks at her fellow queens in the Werk Room or Untucked. And not only is Bianca one of the best comedy queens in RPDR herstory, she had strong runways too. Two of her wins were actually design challenges. She won her debut episode with the Hawaiian Luau dress, which is my favourite look of hers. The black-and-white one and the Best Drag one are up there too. Her Judge Judy in the Snatch Game came so naturally to her and it would've won in another season. Her rap verse was good. And her peak moment was the stand-up routine; she absolutely killed it. She also won the Makeover challenge (that wedding dress looked well-made) and she probably should've won the Glitter Ball too. Bianca's relationship with Trinity was a major part of the season as well; she was like a frustrated drag mother showing tough love. They were paired together in the cosmetics ad and pulled it out. Bianca also helped Adore with her outfits. Bianca had a soft side and she wasn't serious with the insults; that distinction makes all the difference. Favourite entrance: Gia Gunn (episode 1) / Trinity K. Bonet (episode 2) Challenge ranking: 1. Snatch Game 2. 90s Rap Battle 3. "Scream Queens" (Acting) 4. Shade: The Rusical 5. Stand-up routine 6. Glitter Ball 7. Cosmetics adverts 8. "Sissy That Walk" Music Video 9. Party box couture (Design Pt 2) 10. TV shows couture (Design Pt 1) 11. The RuPaul Show (Talk show/Improv) 12. "Drag My Wedding" Makeover Lip Sync ranking: 1. Adore Delano vs Trinity K. Bonet ("Vibeology") (should've been the Double Shantay) 2. April Carrión vs Trinity K. Bonet ("I'm Every Woman") 3. Milk vs Trinity K. Bonet ("Whatta Man") 4. Joslyn Fox vs Laganja Estranja ("Stupid Girls") 5. BenDeLaCreme vs Darienne Lake (1) ("Point of No Return") 6. April Carrión vs Vivacious ("Shake It Up") 7. Adore Delano vs Joslyn Fox ("Think") 8. Gia Gunn vs Laganja Estranja ("Head to Toe") 9. Kelly Mantle vs Vivacious ("Express Yourself") 10. Darienne Lake vs Magnolia Crawford ("Turn The Beat Around") (messy but Dari was fun) 11. Top 4 Lip Sync ("Sissy That Walk") (zzzz + fake split screen editing) 12. BenDeLaCreme vs Darienne Lake (2) ("Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)") (zzzz) Every season has had an obvious #1 lip sync so far Season ranking so far: 5 > 6 > 4 > 2 > 3 > 1 > AS1

[kumeko]

Title: Garreg Mach Yearbook Chronicles

A/N: For the @garregmachzine I got to write four different snippets. It was a fun challenge trying to cram everything into a drabble.

Featuring: Leonie's troubles with Seteth and Flayn, Hilda charming Ferdinand to escape battle, Annette dealing with a club composed of Linhardt and Marianne, and Claude dodging Hubert's censor.

…

…

…

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Fishing Tournament

Sitting on the banks of the pond, Leonie watched as her bobber dipped in and out of the water, floating idly along an invisible current. With any luck, she’d catch a fish soon. A big one, hopefully. Usually by now she’d have caught at least one or two, but then usually she was also alone while she fished. Leonie cast an eye around her, biting her cheek at the sight of her fellow classmates. Despite how early in the morning it was, it felt like half the monastery was sitting along the pond, trying their best to catch a fish.

Then again, it wasn’t everyday that Seteth held a fishing contest. After all that’d happened in the past few months, she couldn’t deny that they needed a break like this and it seemed that everyone else agreed. Byleth sat at the docks, quietly fishing. Next to her, Sylvain lost his balance and flailed as he struggled to keep out of the water. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Raphael comparing their catches.

“I see you are also entering the fishing contest,” a slightly musical voice asked from behind her. Startled from her thoughts, Leonie looked up in time to catch Flayn as she sat down next to her. Like, right next to her. Smiling softly, Flayn clasped her hands together as she stared at Leonie’s rod. “Did you catch anything?”

“N-not yet.” Leonie shook her head, feeling a little awkward at the proximity. Maybe if she shifted the other way—

“That is a pity.” Seteth slowly sat down on her other side, a fishing rod in hand. He cast his line, his eyes on her the entire time. “It will not be much of a contest if there are no entries.”

Leonie resisted the urge to get up and run. What was it with these siblings, pinning her in like this? She felt sandwiched, with no way to escape. “I’m sure someone will manage to catch a good fish or two. Give me an hour, and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few myself.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Flayn clapped her hands. “However, that leaves a different problem. We’ll have all these fishes, and no one to cook them.”

Leonie swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. “There are plenty of cooks—”

“Leonie has excellent skills,” Seteth suggested, as though he’d just thought of it. “Maybe she could?”

“Really?” Flayn lit up, before flashing her an innocent smile. “Leonie, would you mind?”

She should have just listened to her instincts and run.

-x-

Crest Studies

When Annette joined the academy, she had never seen herself leading a club, or leading anything for that matter. Sure, she would join one or two, but leadership was for the elites, for Dimitri’s and Sylvain’s of the world. Well, maybe not Sylvain exactly, but there were plenty other nobles who could fit the bill. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Hubert.

Yet it was her, not them, standing in front of the Blue Lions classroom, looking at her Crest Studies clubmates. To be perfectly honest, when the other options were the lazy Lindhardt and the shy Marianne, if Annette didn’t take the lead, nothing would get done. Even now, Lindhardt was dozing on his desk while Marianne fidgeted nervously.

Annette bit her cheek. She should have joined the gardening club. Clearing her throat, she announced, “For today’s activity, we’re going to the market.”

“W-what?” Marianne’s eyes grew wide. Sometimes, it looked like she didn’t know why she was in the club. “The market?”

“Why?” Lazily, Lindhardt lifted his head and gave her a baleful glare. “That’s a waste of effort.”

From the teacher’s desk, Professor Hanneman gave her thumbs up. At least someone liked her proposition. Annette quickly refuted, “It’s not.”

“We study crests,” Lindhardt replied languidly. “It’s a waste.”

Something about him always riled her up. She could feel her hackles rising. Stalking toward him, she rested her hands on her hip and bit out. “It’s not. We need to know what people think of crests.”

“Annette’s right.” Hanneman nodded sagely, intervening before an argument started. “It’s important to consider different perspectives when studying a topic.”

“But talking to people…” Marianne gnawed on her lip. “I’m not sure—”

“It’ll be fine.” Annette clasped Marianne’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Besides, we’re going to interview later, so this is good practice.”

Hesitantly, Marianne nodded. “I-I suppose that’s true.”

“Can’t we just interview now and get it over with?” Linhardt interjected, yawning.

Annette pulled Marianne up to her feet. “We’re going to the market,” she stated firmly, refusing to broker any more arguments. “If you want to decide what we’re doing, then you be the club president.”

It was an ultimatum he’d never take, and they both knew it. With a sigh, he got up. “Fine, I suppose there’s some merit to it.”

“Good.” Annette grinned as she gently tugged Marianne toward the door. Finally, she could tell Mercedes that they’d done something other than sit in a classroom. Finally, just like all the other clubs, she was going to go out with her clubmates and do something fun.

Perhaps there was some merit to being club president, after all.

-x-

Battle of the Eagle and Lion

I’d say it is an honour to write about the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but that was before so many of my drafts got mysteriously burned or destroyed because if I happen to make any unflattering comments about Edelgard, I have to start over. Though I would argue they aren’t disparaging, but who am I to argue with her guard dog, Hubert?

So what can I say about the Battle? Well, I guess the obvious—all three of our houses showed what they did best: Edelgard with her strategies, Dimitri with his training, and me with my ‘schemes’. I call them strategies, others call them traps, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Honestly, I didn’t do anything sinister this time around. If a lot of students just happened to get a case of mild food poisoning, well, things happen. Raphael got it too and you don’t hear me complaining about sabotage.

Let’s see, something flattering—ah, I know! It’s actually quite impressive how much Edelgard was able to move despite her illness. Honestly, if someone had poisoned, they’d better know to up the dosage next time. Despite her thinning ranks, she managed to set up her classmates quite skillfully, and Hubert somehow managed to do a lot of damage despite looking like he needed to find the closest toilet.

Of course, Dimitri powered his way through the food poisoning. I think he’s got the strength of a dozen soldiers, or boars as Felix likes to put it. Felix also managed to move, but I think that was purely out of spite. It’s amazing what a motivation spite is. Then again, I think Hubert would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

My house, of course, were the cleverest of the bunch, carefully goading out our enemies and defeating them one by one. Despite losing our strongest member, we rallied around each other and fought back. It was a close fight by all reckoning. And honestly if Edelgard lost (notice I said if, Hubert!), it wouldn’t be all that shameful, considering the handicaps she had.

Now, you might be wondering who actually won? Why it’s (scorched words) of course! Was there ever any doubt?

-x-

Mission Battles

Out of all the school activities she was forced to do, Hilda disliked the missions and mock battles the most. With the others, she could get away with appealing her classmates into helping her, whether it was Marianne in the library or Raphael with the stables or some other poor, hapless soul who crossed her path. As long as it was done, no one was the wiser.

On the battlefield, she wasn’t quite as lucky. No one could protect her the entire time and her charms were entirely wasted on the enemy. It wasn’t like they’d stop fighting her just because she asked.

Or maybe, if she—no, no, it was best to banish that thought. Hilda gripped her axe as she studied the battlefield before her. Just ahead of her was a bandit and unfortunately, there was no ally in sight to protect her. She was going to have to cut this one down herself. “I don’t suppose you’d back down?”

The bandit roared in response, charging at her.

“Step back!” Ferdinand quickly dashed ahead of her, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he slashed down on her foe. With two quick strikes, the bandit was down and her rescuer looked at her triumphantly over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes! Thanks so much!” Hilda clasped one of his hands and gave him a soft smile. She stood corrected—she could absolutely charm her way through a battle, as long as it was one of those rare cross-house battles.

“No problem.” Ferdinand smiled brightly, before looking over his shoulder at Edelgard. “As you can see, I have struck down another enemy. That brings my count to higher than yours, does it not?”

“We’re in the middle of battle, Ferdinand,” Edelgard warned, axe clenched tightly in her hands. “We’re not competing.”

“Considering how one-sided it is, I could hardly call it a competition.” Ferdinand sniped, trying to pick a fight as usual.

Judging by Edelgard’s weary expression, his taunts still didn’t work. Determining that Hilda was safe enough, Ferdinand once more returned to Edelgard’s side, no doubt challenging her once again. It was impressive how he didn’t give up. A little sad, but impressive.

If he wasn’t going to give up, neither would she. There was bound to be another sucke—noble man willing to lay his life for a damsel in dress. Catching sight of a flash of red, Hilda smiled. “Oh, Sylvain!” she called out, batting her eyes.

Perhaps she could charm her way out of fighting too.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago​

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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

"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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

"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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

"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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

"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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

So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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

"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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

"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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

"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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

"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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

"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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

"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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

"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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

"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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

They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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

"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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

"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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

"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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

"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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

They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

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

"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

[galloperthompson]

Regarding Galloper Thompson’s clothes

Including his (slutty, thigh high) boots

It’s been brought to my attention that galloper’s slutty thigh high boots actually look like ankle boots with the thigh high part tucked into the boot. So I’ve decided to go beyond my jokes about him being a slut anyways and make this post going over his clothes. And buckle up folks, it gets long.

I’ll be honest, it’s pretty difficult to find details about 13th century (and 12th century) Scandinavian life specifically, especially since I’m using google. For this post, I have just used general European fashion, but in the future I’ll be mixing viking things with general European things from this time (but I’ll mostly try to keep the general European things to German and English/Irish stuff). I’ll also be referencing things from both the 13th century and the 12th century, since galloper “lived” during the early 13th century (and every website seems to think the 13th century started in 1250).

But anyways, an English knight from the mid 13th century apparently wore something like this on his bottom half (underneath other layers):

Now as you can see in this terrible quality picture (sorry about that, but I did try to label it), the hose are thigh high just like galloper’s leg coverings, which is what gave me the idea that maybe it’s hose he’s wearing. So let’s begin.

I would explain the whole system they used, but this does it better than I could (you only need to read until it starts talking about chausses since we’re only talking about the hose). The linked text is a bit weird and may (or may not) be unreliable, but it’s compact, explains things well, and has pictures (it’s where I got that *stunning* photo I labeled). However, keep in mind that it depicts a mid 13th century English knight, and galloper is from early 13th century Scandinavia, so while there may be similarities, there’s also definitely differences in how he would’ve dressed. Braies were apparently longer in the first half of the 13th century, for one, and didn’t really become “underwear” for everyone until the second half and later. Hose were also referred to as stockings, and apparently hose and stockings didn’t really refer to different things until later on. Additionally, clothing differed between class, but we’re not going to go over that today.

So how does this relate to galloper? Well his lower half actually sort of resembles the picture above, doesn’t it? His “hose” are thigh high, with ankle high shoes over them, just like the picture. Despite the similarities, though, there are differences. His “hose” aren’t pointed, and so there are no ties for them. Apparently, hose didn’t have to be pointed, and those thigh high hose that weren’t pointed were held up with pins.. but there are no pins to hold them up either. Without one of these mechanisms to hold up the hose, they would not stay in place. And considering we can see where the thigh high part ends, we should also be able to see at least part of what’s holding them up. The thigh high part could also theoretically be “leg bandages” that extend above the knee. However, his “hose” don’t look like wrapped or crisscrossed cloth, they look solid, so leg bandages are unlikely.

Now, I wanted to present hose as an explanation based (somewhat) in history, but I don’t actually think he’s wearing hose. We’ll go over why later in this post, but let’s keep going for now.

On to his tunic and coat. Well I say tunic, really it isn’t a tunic by medieval standards. Back in the 13th century, tunics didn’t have buttons—at least not on the front. And his coat.. well it’s not something you’d find in the 13th century. Longer coverings, down to the knee or lower, were the style then. Shorter coverings with buttons down the front didn’t appear until the 14th century in the form of things like doublets. Those “things” were usually very padded and form-fitting, however, and neither galloper’s shirt or coat seem to be padded or exceedingly form-fitting at all.

The history of gloves (in everyday wear, at least) is surprisingly complex, so I won’t be touching his gloves. I’m also ignoring his belt because I don’t have much to say on it, but they did have leather belts with “single-looped” buckles (whatever that means) in the 12th and 13th centuries.

Moving on to his cape. Ah yes, his tattered little cape (which matches his mare’s tattered little saddle blanket!). Who knows why the fuck he wears it. There doesn’t seem to be a hood (like the medieval chaperon) or a part that comes around to cover the shoulders, and it’s too short to be a cloak. My best guess is that it was a design choice based on the fact that such a short cape doesn’t need a fluttering animation. Why not axe (lol) the whole idea of a cape? Well, all the coolest characters have capes!

His weird ass shoulder pad I can’t come up with an explanation for, though (or at least a medieval one). If he had a neck, the shoulder pad would be digging into it based on the position. Maybe it’s supposed to be like those shoulder pads with tassels on some formal military uniforms (technically “epaulettes” with “fringe”)? Except instead of tassels it’s feather looking things and also there’s only one shoulder pad for some reason?

All of this is to say that none of what he’s wearing can realistically pass for 13th century clothing, except maybe his lower half, and that’s still stretching it.

His entire outfit actually most resembles military uniforms from the 18th and early 19th centuries, as @inkowl13 pointed out in this post. When he floats, you can even clearly see his tattered coattails, which are his trademark green on the underside. In the case of 18th century garb, his shirt would be a waistcoat (he doesn’t seem to be wearing an 18th century shirt underneath his “waistcoat” at all, but maybe we just can’t see it or distinguish it from his “waistcoat”), and his jacket-thing would be a uniformed soldier’s coat. His lower half would be breeches with either a. ankle boots and over-the-knee stockings, b. ankle boots and thigh high gaiters (those things with buttons that go over the top of the shoe), or c. thigh high boots, which appeared as riding boots in the 15th century and remained common until the 19th century—including in military uniforms (in fact, some cavalry units today still use them in their ceremonial dress uniforms). His shoulder pad would, in fact, be a strange attempt at an epaulet/epaulette (which were used in the 18th century (and beyond) to denote rank) with fringe the color of his trademark green. The fact that there’s only one also makes sense within this period; whether the epaulet/epaulette was on the right, left, or both shoulders indicated rank (Galloper’s “epaulet/epaulette” is on his right shoulder, our left). The issue of glove history is also eliminated since it seems military uniforms in the 1700s made use of gloves. Men’s capes/cloaks at this time went to the knee or below it, so my explanation for his cape is unchanged. Through this lens, things start to become clear.

This is a mannequin (is that what you call the fake models of historical clothing? does mannequin apply in this context?) wearing an 18th century cavalry uniform:

As you can see, he looks incredibly similar to galloper, despite the many differences.

And these are two sets of 18th century soldiers (again, sorry for the less than ideal quality):

On the left there’s a pair of soldiers with over-the-knee boots and on the right there’s a pair with over-the-knee gaiters (see how they go over their shoes). Thigh high boots would make more sense for a horseman, but thigh high gaiters would explain some things about his lower half, like how his boots and the thigh high part are different colors. However, there are no buttons on the sides (like gaiters have) or garters at the knee (like both stockings and gaiters had), and the thigh high part is tucked into the shoe, more like stockings rather than gaiters. In these pictures you can also see how his upper half looks incredibly similar to all four soldiers, again, even with the differences.

Now, unless galloper was keeping up with fashion until the 18th century when he stopped (he gave up I guess? said “fuck that shit” and hasn’t changed clothes for the past 300 years?), he shouldn’t be wearing an 18th century military uniform. Especially since he was shown wearing the same clothes in his execution scene (which I don’t put too much stake in considering the Jarl was in his ghost form and even the soul riders don’t have 2 sets of clothes in game).

So why does he look like this, then? The reason why he looks like a revolutionary war soldier can be traced back to the inspiration used for his design. According to Jorvikipedia, his “...design takes direct inspiration from author Washington Irving’s Headless Horseman from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow...” which explains why he looks the way he does. Jorvikipedia has been wrong before (they list his place of birth as “Jorvik (presumably)” which doesn’t fit with his backstory), but if Galloper’s design was based on the headless horseman of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (which it very likely was), it would provide justification for the 18th century look of his clothes. Washington Irving’s horseman was, after all, (alleged to be) killed during the revolutionary war in the 18th century.

It’s obvious his upper half is based on 18th century uniform, but the intention behind his lower half remains a mystery. Whether it’s meant to be stockings, gaiters, or boots, I don’t know. Theoretically, his lower half could even have been intended to be hose, braies, and shoes. But considering his entire look and the inspiration behind his design, an 18th century explanation seems more likely (I just don’t know which 18th century explanation, exactly). It would be pretty strange if half of him was medieval and the other half was from the revolutionary war era. Though, I’ll admit, it’s not completely impossible.

My theory for the contradiction between his design and his backstory is that his backstory came after his design. The 18th century look of him, along with his inspiration, and the lack of medieval elements in his design all make a compelling case for this theory. The only thing I can think of that may disprove it is his mare’s y-shaped bridle, but even that could be explained if she was designed after galloper, while his backstory was in its first stages of development (I’ll probably do another post on his horse’s tack, since this post is already long, but that’s for another day). But that’s just a theory; the star stable team could very well have just not done any research on 13th century attire, instead modeling his look on depictions of Irving’s headless horseman and adding the bridle as an indication of the origin they had already established for him.

Ok, but what about the rest? The other parts of his and his mare’s designs (color scheme, hanging pumpkin jack-o-lanterns) can be attributed to the fact that he is the halloween event character. Though his color scheme could be inspired by the headless horseman in World of Warcraft, who was introduced in 2007 (I found out about this horseman while looking into other possible inspirations for galloper’s design), all the colors seen on him and his mare (black, green, red, orange) are general Halloween colors. The hanging jack-o-lanterns are not historically accurate for the Middle Ages (or the revolutionary war era, actually) as pumpkins were not introduced into Europe until Columbus “discovered” the Americas, and did not become commonly carved into jack-o-lanterns until the 19th century in America -which was when and where “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was published (though the pumpkin “head” was not even carved in the original story). I suppose galloper could have developed an affinity for pumpkins (and for carving them) later on (Jorvik seems to have a lot of them), but it’s more likely that they added them (to the keep and his mare’s design) based on modern halloween practices instead of historical halloweens or consideration of galloper’s feelings on pumpkins.

Ok, so we’ve established he’s not historically accurate for the 13th century, but what would his clothes look like if they were actually historically accurate? The answer is: I don’t know! Maybe I’ll do another google deep dive and make a post on that, but for now we’ve come to the end.

All of my information about historical clothing came from sorting out google results, so take the historical bits with a hefty grain of salt (more like a bowl of salt actually). If you have any actual knowledge about history, please feel free to correct me.

[fantasyinvader]

Beat Binding Blade tonight

So, right off the bat I'm going to admit. I abused the arena and save states. This is a really, really hard game. And while I enjoyed it, I'm going to give three things I didn't like about it.

1)Enemy reinforcements arrive at the end of the player phase, and can attack during the enemy phase. That is unfair, especially when I assume that parking a unit on the spawn point will prevent them (It doesn't) or my healer just happens to be in the area. I like difficult games, but when I fail at something in those I want to feel like it's my fault for doing so. When I die in Bloodborne or lose a unit in Fates Conquest, I'm willing to accept it because I felt it was fair (plus I'll just restart the chapter in Conquest anyway). I could have not died if I had played a little better. This game was not fair when it did that.

2)The supports. A lot of the stuff about the characters is locked away in their supports, since this is one of the old Fire Emblems where it throws units your way because it's assuming you didn't reset the game when one died. They don't get cutscenes to be important, and with only five supports per character (barring if one dies, then any unit that had supports with gets those supports back). And even then, getting an A rank doesn't pair up any units except for Roy. So you don't get to play love doctor here, it's only really there for the stat boosts. But in the case of my boy, he needs those supports in order for his character to fully come through.

3)I can take 8 units into the final battle, and they're the only ones who get full ending cards. Everyone else just gets a single line. Kinda weak if I use someone like Fir for most of the game, but bench her at the end to give Rutget Durandal.

Even with my cheating, I still enjoyed this game. Mostly for the story. When Fire Emblem first appeared in Smash Brothers Melee, as a kid it instantly caught my attention. Roy and Marth just looked so cool with their swords and armor (true fact: My favorite design for Link is the Skyward Sword design, simply because it has chainmail under the tunic. I get it, the tunic is iconic but SS's Link just looks practical), and I preferred Roy because I though his fully-charged shield breaker hurting him was cool. I even keep a Cipher card of his in my wallet for good luck. I wanted to know what Fire Emblem was, what kind of game it was. My friend showed me a screenshot of the upcoming GBA game in Nintendo power, which I got for the following Christmas (sadly, I didn't get Sacred Stones as I got a PS2 the following year). I loved that game, but the idea that I was playing as Roy's father always was a bit of a sour point for me. It's because of that game when I got a 2DS a decade later, because I wanted to game but kept getting pulled away from my console, I eventually went back to Fire Emblem.

And, I'm going to admit, Binding Blade hurt me because I played Blazing Blade first. It really did. I mean, Hector dies early on, Lyn is presumably dead hell a lot of my old comrades probably died in this war, Eliwood's wife dies shortly after they are married while Eliwood is more useless than ever, the kid I saved in Bern becomes a genocidal maniac, and the fact that the characters of Blazing Blade kinda caused this to happen by releasing the seals on the Legendary Weapons in their own quest... It kinda bugs me that the Legendary Weapons I used in Blazing Blade are in their trap filled storage places. Like, who returned them there? And if I have characters from that game returning in Binding, I find it strange they don't comment on needing them again. But this is a case of the game trying to be a prequel to a story that wasn't written with it in mind.

But at the end of the day, one thing just kept popping up in my mind. Binding Blade is the antithesis of the Crimson Flower route from Three Houses. I know they said Genealogy of the Holy War was an inspiration, but I can't help it. I've seen so many people try to praise that said route as some sort of denouncement of the rest of the franchise. That it's about putting power in the hands of the people (it's not) instead of having some Lord be the good king. Granted, the Mandate of Heaven seems like it's a running theme of the series, so without understanding what that is I can understand why people don't grasp what that part of the message. But Binding Blade, it just hit so many things on the nose that I needed to say something.

So without further adieu, I'm just going to bring up a few points.

With Regards to Humanity

It's interesting how both Zephiel and Edelgard come at this from different angles. Sure, they both lead wars of conquest across the entire continent, and I'm guessing Zeph didn't tell his troops what he was planning on doing once he won so there's likely a level of deception going on there as well. He really doesn't care for his fellow man, and the game goes out of it's way to show us why. Hatred, greed, or even selling out your people in the name of self-preservation. The game doesn't shy away from showing us any of this, saying that it's wrong and thus why Roy has to kick some guy's arse. Zephiel knows this, but in Edelgard's case? She's out there fighting for absolute power, destroying anyone who won't bend the knee to her while those who do out of self-preservation like House Gloucester are rewarded for it.

In essence, Edelgard is everything Zephiel saw wrong with the human race, she is why he felt we needed to go extinct. The very things he condemns humanity for are the things she reward. Zephiel would have actually handed over power to those he felt deserved it if he had won, whereas Edelgard is demonstrably shown to hold onto power until near the end of her life. One wants humanity dead, the other wants all the dragons. They even oppose each other in their classes. Edelgard is based on the red emperor archetype, she wears red, her class is the heavily-armored Emperor and her weapon of choice is an axe. Zephiel is a king, armoed but wearing purple and he uses a sword in battle.

Even if they both have screwed up history with their family's due to their father's inability to keep it in his pants, they're both presented as villains despite being ideologically opposed which goes to show with Fire Emblem the method IS the message.

Ancient Wars, Super Powered Weapons and Lies.

War of Heroes vs. The Scouring. The former is an event where the full details are shrouded in mystery, up to the player to piece together the clues and figure out the truth for themselves...or in Crimson Flower's case, ignore the truth and act out in your ignorance.With Binding Blade though, when the truth starts coming out, it hits hard. I mean, right from the beginning of the game we're told man was the one who broke the peace by attacking the dragons, but then we learn that those legendary weapons messed up the environment, resulting in dragons needing to use human forms only to be slaughtered by man. Dragons were blamed for the environment, the people who used those weapons were revered as heroes. We don't know why mankind launched their attack, but we do know that they weren't able to slay the Demon Dragon, one who had her soul destroyed in order to control her, because the Heroes felt sorry for her. It's making dragons out to be the victims here, much like the dragons in Three Houses. But Crimson Flower only serves to demonize them, acting like they can't understand humanity when the dragons in that game are a lot closer to humans emotionally than the ancient dragons in Elibe.

The Elites in comparison weren't heroes, and that lie has been confirmed as Rhea trying to make peace.

The good ending for Binding Blade is being able to save the dragon whose soul was destroyed, whereas Crimson Flower ends with slaying a dragon after you've spent the entire game triggering her (and is the ending that leads to oppressive rule under Edelgard, in addition to the only ending without sunlight. What? You thought you'd get the good ending when her final boss theme was playing on the last stage?). Also, you need all the Legendary weapons in order to unlock the final stages, which all play into the big mystery. Crimson Flower requires the player to not understand that the world-building was done to support fighting against Edelgard instead.

Merits of a leader

Let's not beat around the bush here, Roy will not carry you through Binding Blade. His bases are low, and while he has good growths he is unable to promote until the very end of the game. Even then, you need to save the Binding Blade's usage to ensure you get the good ending. Roy is also very unsure of himself, thrust into a position of leadership despite his young age. But look at what happens when he succeeds, he manages to overcome the odds and take down the mightiest army on the continent. At the end of the game, he's shown himself as more than capable of leading. Not to mention, he also believes that humans and dragons can live together, even seeing this in Acadia (and if Ninian was his mother, he's unknowingly proof of this as he is 1/4 dragon himself. May explain his poor bases). If he marries Liliana, he even becomes a King for likely much of the same reason Byleth does in SS/VW (most leaders are dead following the war, plus combining his territory with Ostia which had already taken over Lyn's land after she abdicated/married Hector). Roy learns the truth as already established.

Compare this to Crimson Flower Byleth. Byleth leads the Black Eagle Strike Force, but credit for it goes to Edelgard. Byleth never gets any recognition for this, no position of authority despite proving themselves, instead that goes to Caspar Jenkins of all people, and ends the war continuing to fight TWSITD from the shadows to support Edelgard's regime. And if you read between the lines, Edelgard is NOT a good leader, resorting to bribes, threats, cronyism, secret police, propaganda, and even TWSITD's support and later stolen tech in order to maintain her rule. Byleth lost whatever emotional development they got from White Clouds during this route, once again becoming the Ashen Demon, and is even willing to let themselves die if they can't keep their “humanity” in check showing a distaste for their own draconic heritage (showing humans and dragons can't live together in this timeline). They didn't grow into being a leader, they devolved into being Edelgard's unthinking muscle. Byleth never learns the truth in this route, falling for Edelgard's manipulations resulting in them losing Enlightened One/Nirvana status.

Not to mention, Heroes Relics have really low weapon levels. In theory, they can be used by anyone but only safely by those with Crests and most fully with a matching Crest. Legendary Weapons, on the other hand, can be used by anyone with an S rank in their type. Your characters have to EARN the right to use those things and you'll need them to deal with all the Manaketes during the final level, whereas Relics aren't exactly that level of broken.

Honestly, seeing the ending of Binding Blade and Idunn recovering put at least one tear in my eye. Crimson Flower's just made me feel like the game was calling me an idiot (which considering the Nirvana/Enlightenment thing, it kinda was). I would love if Binding Blade got the Echoes treatment, or even if they just did a GBA collection for the Switch. But after all these years, one thing is as certain now as it was when I was a kid.

In this house, ROY'S OUR BOY!

[greatbigbellies]

Born Too Large

This was meant to be kinky, but spiraled out of proportion as I wrote, and the belly only comes in at the end. But I wanted a wholesome relationship so…

Ever since birth, she was an outcast, a freak, a giant. At 10 years old, she was already taller and stronger than all the men in the village, including her father, who bitterly blamed her for her mother’s death in childbirth. None of the other kids wanted to play with her; she was an unfair advantage in team games, and even when she proposed that they all take her on, no one was brave enough. So it was that she resigned herself to duty and chores, routinely doing the work of three men, which only made them more jealous and resentful, until one day a royal knight was passing through and beheld the young giantess, and impressed with her size and strength, offered to take her away from this humdrum backwater and put her gifts to use in the king’s army. With no lost love, she left her home behind and joined the knight’s entourage.

She became his squire, and in time she was taught the ways of war. Fully grown, she stood at eye level with a man on horseback. She needed custom made armor, and her sword was too heavy for anyone else to lift, let alone swing. It needed no edge; the sheer weight of it was enough to crush a man’s breastplate. Her strength became a thing of legend; impossible to miss on the battlefield, the mere sight of her set soldiers on the run, which she was fine with–she never much liked killing; it felt too much like bullying. And although her reputation grew, she still heard the hateful words behind her back, the subtle ridicule and quiet envy, of how she stole all the glory. At this point, her heart is hardened and the words don’t hurt her much anymore, but she’s still no happier, in spite of the accolades and glories she’s won in the king’s service. But it’s not all bad. Her closest friend among the knights is eternally grateful, after she saved his life on the battlefield by lifting the horse that had fallen on him, even when the doctors pronounced he would never walk again. And sometimes, she blushes when the maidens compliment her.

This continues until an enemy kingdom, fearful of her strength, sought to remove her from the picture. She’s lured into a trap in a remote corner of the kingdom, and as she passed over a bridge over a ravine, the bridge supports were destroyed, and she fell a great height, bouncing on the rocks and plunging into the river below. She should have died, but her armor protected her, and she drifted downriver, unconscious.

When she next awoke, she found herself in a cramped bed, dressed in bandages, aching all over. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe. Then a small man (every man was small) appeared in the doorway, and nearly dropped the bowl of soup he was coming to give her. She was awake at last! He explained that he was a fisherman, and that found her washed ashore on the banks; and after getting some help, they carried her to safety, peeled away the armor, and addressed her wounds. It was up in the air whether she’d make it or not; after all, she’d been asleep for a week. She stresses that she must return to the king’s service, but she wasn’t in the shape to go anywhere. The fisherman gently pushes her back down, and for the first time she can remember, she’s not strong enough to resist. She needed to rest and heal, he insisted, or else all their hard work to try and save her would be for naught. A little guilty now, she lays back down, and accepts the spoonful of soup when he puts it against her lips.

Recovery is slow. Aside from her wounds, she needs to go through physical therapy to recover her strength. For so long, she’s been the strongest person in the room, yet now her legs wobble like a newborn colt’s, unable to support her own weight without leaning on the fisherman and his friends, who offer their support unconditionally. It becomes clear to her that they aren’t aware of her reputation; the village is more isolated than most. In her towns and villages, she was recognized (for better and worse). But here, she’s just… a person. A person in need, no less. There’s no judgment, no expectations. In spite of her bruised and broken ribs, she feels she can finally *breathe*.

She starts to adjust to life in the village, helping where she can as part of her rehabilitation, still not at her peak strength. She’s on a more even playing field with the other villagers, yet they value her all the same. In the morning, she often finds gifts at the door, and she treasures these more than any bounty she won in the king’s army. Her previous life seems so distant now, so unimportant. She feels loved; a strange and unfamiliar feeling. And overtime, she realizes her own feelings for the fisherman, who’s been at her side since the beginning. He’s nice and sweet and funny. While she was still on bedrest, he would tell her the most awful jokes, and she would laugh so hard it’d hurt her ribs. She had seen many attractive men in her time as a knight, beautiful and unblemished from a life of privilege or hard-cut and well-muscled from battle. Yet none of them compared to this little man with bushy eyebrows, a wiry beard, and a little gap between his front teeth. Yet his smile outdid the sun, and put a funny warmth in her chest. And eventually, she works up the courage to confess her feelings for him, afraid that he would reject her; she was just so big, and clumsy, and she ate so much, and she wasn’t particularly pretty from first a childhood of farmwork then years of battle. But none of that mattered, because he liked her too. And soon enough, they shared a bed for the night, then every night after. It is awkward at first, as she’s never shared a bed with anyone before or known such intimate touch, but she adjusts to this too.

But the peace does not last. For while she was recovering, the enemy kingdom had invaded, conquering town after town, and now they’ve come her. None of the villagers are warriors. But she is–even though she still aches and is out of practice. The fisherman tries to talk her out of it, they don’t have to fight, *she* doesn’t have to fight anymore, not for some distant king. She tells him, she isn’t doing this for the king, but herself and them. And when it becomes evident that he can’t dissuade her, he gets the boys together, and they work all night to equip her. Dressed in pots, pans, and similarly improvised armor, armed with a lumber axe, she meets the enemy forces at the village outskirts, and after a beat they recognize her: the she-giant wasn’t dead! Uncertainty spreads through the ranks. They had all heard the stories–of how she cleaved a man in two with but a single blow with her monstrous blade, or the time she lifted a castle portcullis with her bare hands, or when she held a bridge by herself against 50 men. They thought she was dead! But the captain bristles. He did not believe in ghosts, and if this wretched country could produce one freak, why not another–this could not be the same woman. So he challenged her to single combat, sure that she was just another country bumplin; his superior skill would prevail against her brute strength. She, in return, extracts a promise from him; that he and his men would leave the village alone if she bested him. The battle is quick and humiliating, but opposite of how the captain expected things to go. Though out of practice and still not at her physical peak (which she might never reach again), she trounces him. Again and again she insists that he stays down, but his pride won’t allow it, until she delivers a blow that turns out to be fatal. The enemy force is aghast; their fears were true. The second in command, now newly promoted, honors the bargain and hurriedly withdraws their forces. That night, she breaks down and sobs in the fisherman’s arms; she didn’t miss killing.

Later, the king manages to turn back the invading army, and following the rumors finds her again. He demands why she hadn’t returned to his service; her disappearance is what emboldened the enemy to finally invade. But he’s willing to forgive her transgression, in light of her outstanding service, provided she returned–but before he can finish, she pulls him from his horse like she’s scolding a child. She’s done with killing, she tells him, she’s done with people using her. She wants to be left in peace, and invokes her outstanding service to lay claim to the land that the village stands on. No taxes, no demanding kids march off to fight strangers’ battles. In exchange, on her promise as a knight, she would never raise a blade again, for him or against him. And soberly aware that she could crush his head between her hands like an overripe melon, he comes to the decision that her demands are totally reasonable, this village wasn’t *that* important anyway, and he actually fulfills his end of the bargain. The king leaves the village in peace and that’s the last of him that she ever sees.

Things settle down again, and there’s no more attacks, no more tax collectors, no more recruiters. For her, it’s a return to form, a distantly familiar life, except this time she is loved. She is accepted. And eventually, she and the fisherman, now her husband, decide to have kids. It’s scary for her. What if they end up like her? What if they’re too small? What if she accidentally hurts them? Forgetting that she’s handled babies before, and helped others through childbirth. But her husband assures her, it’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. She’s the kindest, strongest, gentlest soul he knows; and he’ll be there every step of the way. And a few months later, when the two of them decide to leave the village to go visit her old friend from the knights, her belly is the size of another woman’s at 3 weeks overdue, but for her it’s only the first trimester. Her old friend, seeing her next to her tiny husband, jokingly asks if he needed a ladder to do the deed, but it’s in good fun and they all laugh. She is happy, and eagerly awaits the birth of her children, however many there are, however big or small they turn out to be.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: You’re the new assistant to the BAU team and intimidated by such a smart group of people, especially Dr. Spencer Reid, which leads to you having the biggest crush on the pretty boy. 

// Request by  @slutlanna976  Hey, I was wondering if maybe you could write something about maybe reader joining the BAU, but maybe as just an assistant or something? Like they take her out on cases and stuff but she's not like an actual agent, and she isn't really that smart and feels intimidated about being around them, especially spencer and has like the biggest crush on him and is super nervous around him, and she doesn't think he likes her back and over hears her talking with the girls about him? So and like she loves listening to him rant or say facts, even if she has absolutely no idea what he is talking about, and always pays attention to what he is saying? And maybe she often asks spencer really silly/stupid questions in an attempt to learn more so she feels less stupid around him and just to hear him ramble on?  ///

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted and that you like it!! Thank you for your request :) xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural: (I’m only up to season 2 at the moment, so please don’t give requests with spoilers)***

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix): 

 John B Routledge 

JJ Maybank 

Rafe Cameron 

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER

You weren’t a cool and badass FBI agent like the rest of the BAU team, but only an assistant. Hotch had hired you as an assistant to the team. You were to follow along on cases and well, be an assistant to everyone on the team, to some degree of course. You were there taking notes if they asked or needed case files made or needed to find casefiles. You did a wide range of tasks and you loved every minute of it. Even if you weren’t an actual agent, you still enjoyed spending time with the team, especially with a certain Dr. Spencer Reid.

You often felt intimidated by the team since they all were smart and intelligent. You weren’t as smart as them. You didn’t have a degree like some or multiple degrees like Dr. Reid. You were always learning new things from Spencer. He was always telling you facts and statistics, things you didn’t much care for and half the time you had no idea what he was talking about. Especially when he would discuss chemistry. However, you were always listening and always paying attention to him when he spoke. Often asking questions to show you were listening and paying attention to him.

You were currently on the jet with the rest of the team, notebook and pen in your lap. Spencer sat across the table from you, Derek beside him and Emily beside you. Hotch, Rossi and JJ sitting on the couch. You looked out at the window and could see a city below, surrounded by mountains. It was a beautiful site. “That city is beautiful.” You gushed.

Spencer had glanced out at the window, “Franklin, Tennessee. Population 80, 914 as of 2018.” You turned to face him, surprise written all over your face, “How the hell did you know where we were? And you just know the city population off the top of your head?”

He looks up from the case file, clearing his throat and pointing behind you, “Well that told me where we were, but yes. I do know the city population off the top of my head. My family vacationed there once.”

You looked behind you, the TV on the wall, showing the location of the jet, blushing you turned back around, attention on Hotch as he spoke about the case.

~

Your mind wanders back to when you first met Spencer. Hotch was introducing you to the team in the briefing room and you’d shook everyone’s hand and been introduced to everyone but Spencer. He was last.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. Reid this is our new assistant, y/n.” Hotch announces.

You hold your hand out to him, “Doctor huh? Impressive.” Great, another person who was probably much smarter than you.

He glances at your hand, “Not that kind of doctor.. I have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

You glanced at your hand and slowly dropped it to your side, “Right.” You nodded.

He then holds his hand out to you, “Which is why carry hand sanitizer.” He smiles, “It’s nice to meet you.” He didn’t have any hand sanitizer and he never shook hands with anyone, but the look on your face made him feel bad. Plus, he thought you were cute.

You blush and shake his hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

~

The unsub was decapitating heads and leaving them on poles around a riverbank, so Hotch decided to send you, Rossi and Reid to the crime scene of the last victim. You were careful to follow behind Spencer, scared to mess up any of the crime scene. This was a new one for you. Usually Hotch made you stay in the precinct.

You mentally cursed Hotch for sending you out in the field because you had not worn the right attire. Spencer had held his hand out to you, helping you down the steep hill, but one step on a few leaves sent you sliding. Spencer was quick to catch you under the arms, “You okay?”

You quickly nodded and composed yourself, “yeah. Yeah, thank you.” You blushed, “Hotch never sends me out in the field.”

He nods, “I don’t understand why he did because this is one of the gory crime scenes..”

You followed him and Rossi to the bank and Spencer was right, it was gory. Some of the heads had already decomposed, others in the process. You could smell death. “How could someone do this.. I mean why decapitate them and put them on a pole?

“Contrary to popular belief, decapitation is not that easy.” Spencer says, slipping on a pair of gloves.

“You don’t often hear ‘popular’ and ‘decapitation’ in the same sentence.” Rossi mumbles, getting a look at the last victim.

“Isn’t decapitation like a… medieval thing?” You ask, looking at Spencer.

He turns to face you, “According to tradition, beheading by sword was introduced to England by William the Conqueror in the 11th century. Death by the sword, in which the victim stood or knelt upright, was usually reserved for offenders of high rank, as it was considered to be the equivalent of being killed in battle (I actually received this information word for word from HERE so all credit to them. This is not my words, it’s directly quoted from the website,)” How did he know all this information word for word?

You nod, listening intently. The way his hands would wave around while he spoke, the glisten in his eyes and the way his lips were tugging at a smile. Rossi had already stopped listening when he heard Reid say ‘According to…” but you, you listened to him speak as if the world depended on it. You were captivated by how smart he was and how much information he could remember and speak back word for word. You knew you’d never be as smart as him, but Spencer was always telling you new things you’d never known and he never once would make you feel stupid, no matter how silly or stupid the question you asked was. He’d happily answer, a smile on his face. He liked talking to you about facts or statistics because he always knew you’d listen to him and you were one of the few who would let him rant, no matter what the topic was.

“Why would the victim stand or knelt upright?” You ask. It was such a dumb question to ask, but you wanted to hear him talk more.

“Well because a block would have impeded the downward stroke of the weapon.” He points to the victims, “However, these victims were beheaded using an ax, not a sword, which was actually the customary method of executing traitors in England.”  Credit 

You begin taking in the information, “Okay, so you think maybe these people could have been a traitor to the unsub somehow?”

He furrows his eyebrows in thought, “That’s actually a great assumption… I’ll have Garcia look at the victims and see what they all had in common. Great job, y/n.”

You blush and give a small shrug, “I guess I’m catching on.”

~

You were back at the precinct with the rest of the team, putting together their board for them. JJ and Emily helping pin photos of the victims and other relevant information. You glanced over your shoulder, Morgan and Reid by the table, going through case files.

“So, how’d today go with Spencer?” JJ asks, bumping hips with you.

“Oh that’s right! Hotch put you out in field with you and Rossi.” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows, “So how was it?”

You blushed and shook your head, glancing back over your shoulder to make sure Spencer couldn’t hear. You turned back to the girls and leaned in close, whispering. “It was amazing.”

JJ laughed, “I figured you would enjoy being out in the field with him. That’s why I spoke to Hotch before getting on the jet”

Your eyes went wide, “You did what?!” You whispered yelled.

Emily patted your shoulder, “It’s okay. Hotch is all for it. You know, you and Reid” She laughs a little.

You groaned a little, “Stop.. I can’t believe you guys talked to Hotch.” You bit your lip a little, “It really was a good day though. I enjoyed seeing him work. He’s so smart and intelligent and just plain.. just plain sexy.”

“Oh gosh, you are so smitten with him.” JJ pinned the last photo on the board, “Why don’t you talk to him?”

You shake your head, “Oh no. He’s too smart and intelligent for me. Plus, he doesn’t like me like that. I think he has his eyes for that front desk lady.”

Emily and JJ both rolled their eyes, “He is not too smart and intelligent for you. You are so beautiful and he’d be crazy to not like you.” JJ says.

“Yeah and I know for sure he doesn’t have an eye for the front desk lady. I think she does, but he’s not interested. He’s too polite to tell her off.”

Spencer didn’t mean to ease drop on the conversation, but as soon as his ears heard his name, his ears perked up. He continued going through files with Morgan, but he listened in. He couldn’t help but blush a little when he heard you talk about him. He agreed with you, today was great. He enjoyed spending time with you in the field and you listening to his rants. Plus, your input about the unsub seeing the victims as a traitor, turned out to be true. The victims had one thing in common and they all attended game nights at the same bar. He silently thanked JJ and Emily for putting their nose in your business and asking Hotch to let you out on the field.

~

Case was solved, unsub was taken to jail and now you and the team were on the jet heading back home. It was an early flight and you hadn’t had time to get coffee but luckily there was a coffee maker on the jet. You headed into the little area where the coffee maker was and waited for the coffee to brew, leaning against the counter you let your eyes close for a second. You were going to need a nap later.  

Spencer cleared his throat, “y/n?”

“Hmm?” you say looking up. When you see it’s Spencer, you immediately stand up a little straighter, “Hey, Spencer.” You blushed a little, motioning to the coffee maker, “Want me to make you a cup?”

He shakes his head and steps closer, “Maybe later.”

You nod, “Is there something else I can get you, then?”

���A date.”

Your eyes go wide, “A w-what?”

“A date.” His fingers tap on the counter and then he looks up at you, “I um don’t like the front desk lady. I like someone else.”

“Oh god. You heard that conversation…” You groan and cover your face in embarrassment, “I can’t believe you overheard that.”

He chuckles, taking your hands off your face, “I’m glad I did.. I wasn’t sure if you liked me. But now that I know that you like me back, I can ask you on a date.” His thumb rubs your hand, “So what do you say? Can I take you out on a date?”

You look down at y’all’s hands ‘his hands are so soft,’ and then back up at him, nodding, “I would love too, Spencer.”

He smiles, “Great.. so um dinner tonight then?”

“Sounds great.” You smile.

“Quit pushing me before they hear us!” Emily whisper yells.

“I want to listen too!” JJ whispers.

“Did your plan work?”  Hotch’s voice.

“My man, Reid.” Morgan.

“How is it that Reid gets a woman but I can’t find my 4th wife?” Rossi.

[dindooku]

ao3 - loulou1810

you hesitated, knowing there was no other way around this. he could just look you up on the holocomputer. your name would be top of the list. and he’ll, you were in a max prison security unit, so using petty crime wouldn’t cut it either.

you’d have to tell him, be honest. that’s the honourable thing to do, right?

tw - contains violence, suggestive themes and flashbacks of sexual assault/rape

word count: 5,040

____

His chair slowly turned to face you. The child was sat comfortably in his lap playing with a small silver ball, completely entranced by its chrome.

“Is that it?” He scoffed back with a slight hiccup of a laugh. “Me too, why’d they lock you up there? Bit overkill?”

“Yeah…” You drifted, wondering whether you should tell the truth. “I was captured about 2 years ago…” You start, gauging his reaction to see whether he actually wanted to know. He sat up and fixed his gaze to you, signalling that he was listening and for you to continue. You dropped your head, eyes now transfixed on the loose piece of thread you were wrapping around your fingers,

“Well, I was captured. I was originally what you could call a hit-man for the Republic. I’d worked for them consistently for around 8 years. They used me to hunt down and dispose of Ex-Empire politicians and War Lords, but one mission went south and I was drugged. I was then sold to a high-class underground fighting ring, they’d implanted some sort of control chip which meant they could stop me from lashing out or protesting. They could make me do whatever they wanted…” you paused.

This part of the memory was particularly painful. “They didn’t just use me for fighting,” There were so many hidden meanings and stories hidden there, stories you’ve hidden away and not even bared to think about yourself. They’re too painful, just thinking about it felt like daggers were being slowly pushed into your skull, “One customer had let their name loose during…” Your breath hitched, tears now pricking your eyes as the trauma replayed vividly in-front of your eyes, again and again. You close your eyes so that Mando can’t see how much this has affected you. “I committed the name to memory. During one fight I heard that name again. I saw them in the crowd and something in me just snapped, I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. As soon as I’d dealt with my opponent I sent a knife straight through his skull.” The memory was clear as day now and just as callous.

The extravagant curtains draped the room. Rows of black leather chairs lined the arena, circling around the central ring. The lights were dim, a subtle red stained the multicultural onlookers in a bloodied mood lighting. This was a highly prestigious place, only the highest-ranking officials and galactic influencers could witness this fight… this was obvious from the lavish guest attire. Some coated greedily in gold, others jewels and crystals. Normally you’d be dismayed by the lavish beauty of it all, but not today. You were fighting for your life against one of your more difficult opponents. They were at least 3 times your size, chiselled from pure warrior muscle, wielding a heavy battle-axe which was decorated with the bones of their previous wins. You’d given them a run for your money the whole fight, slowly chipping away at their ego with your double-edged Phrik knives. These were the only weapons you needed. Despite this, you weren’t yourself in this moment. Your targets unbeknownst to you were sat peacefully in the viewing box. Your thoughts were painful, the weight of the constant torture and manipulation had worn you thin, you were on your last tether. Despite the chip stopping you from resisting, your soul was ripping that connection from you with every punch, kick and slice. ‘This is your purpose, do it’ swirled your mind in a violent tempest. The words tortured you, controlling every cell in your body.

And then you heard it, their name. You glanced towards its direction. They were right there, in front of you, taunting you with their presence. ‘Complete the mission. Do what you have trained to do. Feed that temptation ’. You’d had enough. As if timed moved slower now, you slid under the belly of your opponent, grabbing their ankle you kicked yourself up, swinging onto their back. You planted a knife into the nape of their neck, twisting it to make sure. As they fell forwards you used the momentum to jump, launching your other knife over the barrier and into the viewing box.  It left your fingers before you could control it, before you could stop yourself. The next few seconds felt like a lifetime that day. The confused agony not leaving their face until you’d dropped to of view. You’d watched their face as they realised what had happened. The synthetic mind that had been forced into you left the moment the knife did, and the weight of that kill latched onto your soul.

“The synthetic consciousness left with the knife. What I didn’t know is that they were a high ranking Republican political official, and you can piece the puzzle from there. That was that. It was over for me”

You could feel his rage. This had angered him more than you.  You didn’t dare say a thing. You fiddled harder with the fabric in your fingers now, the anxiety was suffocating you and you didn’t know what to do.  You knew that what the officer did to you was wrong, illegal. But the way you’d been treated afterwards was what stung. You were the dirty criminal, they were a war hero. It didn’t take long for them to convince you that you were crazy, that you were a psychopath.

This guilt would carry you to the grave, maybe even push you in.

“If it wasn’t your choi-… if it was synthetic, why’d they lock you up? You were kidnapped and manipulated.” The question fair, and exactly the same question that had eaten away at you ever since they sentenced you. You were taken, held hostage, abused and tortured. Your body became a toy, something for them to release their anger and lustful cravings on. The pain they slowly incited within you only made things easier for them, more enjoyable, they fed off your hate. You tried to cut your emotions, but what they did to you was unforgivable, sadistic. They used your emotions against you, like Lori said would happen. By the time their use for you came around you were an empty shell, stripped bare. They implanted you, and with the flip of a switch, you were their puppet.

“My kidnappers implanted a chip into my brain. They could control me when they wanted, on and off like a droid. It was an old hijacked Clone Wars tech. They only had one use for me, making money. Once I’d done their bidding for them, they’d turn it off. After the incident though, they destroyed the switch along with the evidence. I was classed as insane. The Republic arrested me and took me in. That's how I ended up in the transporter. I was Disposable”

The last word rang your ears, it was driven into you from the start. No one had any attachments to you, no one. You were nothing. A credit without currency. An object.

The sigh that left your body felt like it took the last remaining pieces of your soul. Your tears relenting now, a nervous response to the rehashed trauma. You’d thought about it until your mind was raw. No matter how hard you reasoned with your conscience, you couldn’t shake the guilt. It was your fault, you knew it. You wished that you hadn’t thrown that knife, that you’d had more self-control and restraint. Deep down though, there was no other reason, you killed them, no one else. You, you’re the sick psycho.

“So they can’t control you anymore?” It was low, quiet. You knew he was trying to understand how it all worked, it was confusing even to you, and you weren’t the best at explaining things either.

“I don’t think so, they said they’d destroyed the controller,” You told yourself that they couldn’t control you like they did then, not anymore. But you couldn’t deny the power they still held over you. The way they’d manipulated, engraved their domination into you meant that you’d do anything they’d say out of fear. They were the only people you feared. You couldn’t face that pain again, and you knew resisting would only lead to torture. Out here in this ship, flying through hyperspace… they had no grip here, you were away from them, free.

He seemed uneasy, and you thought it was because he suspected that you could just turn on him at the flick of a switch. You were sure that they’d destroyed it. They’d not used it since…

“Would you like a job?” Out of everything you thought that he was going to say, you really could not have ever thought he’d be asking to employ you. You darted your eyes up, the confusion on your face was almost painful. Completely speechless. He elaborated, “I need someone to look after the Kid” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d just told this guy that you were a top-ranking assassin and now he wants to employ you as his babysitter?

“Are you having a laugh?” Is all you could say, chuckling as the words left your mouth. You’d never dealt with kids. You had no idea what you were doing. Mando seemed to be doing fine, why did he need you?

“Why, what makes you think that?” He sounds confused now. He shifts his head back a bit, his back straightening. He really did not know why this was all so confusing…

“You want me…me?” you point to your chest, emphasising your concern “of all people, you want me to look after the Child? Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“Yeah. You’re overqualified. Exactly what I’m looking for.” Right, this is odd. You pinch yourself, are you really awake. Have you somehow died or is this some messed up dream?

“I don’t understand?” You curt back, arms now folded in an aggressive manner. You weren’t up for being played around.

“I need someone who can protect the Child, you said you were trained and that’s obvious, I saw the way you moved from me in the cell, how you came away unscathed from Xian” He was right. You started to see what he was getting at, and despite agreeing that you could quite comfortably be the Childs personal bodyguard, you couldn’t deny the fact you had no idea how to look after a Child in the first place.

“I have no idea how to look after a Child…”

“Neither do I, we can figure it out together” He looked down to check on the kid. He was in a whole other galaxy, completely amiss to the tense situation happening just in front of him, the chrome ball his only concern. Mando’s gaze held for a moment, you assumed to weigh up all the possibilities of what he was offering. He turned back to you.

“You can call me Mando” And with that, he left the cockpit to put his weapons away in the main hull. You glanced at the child’s beaming toothy grin as he was carried away. You were frozen. That was it. You’d just bagged yourself a job.

___

He watched you, eyes bearing into your back as you assessed what was now going to be your new home…if you could even call it that. He handed you a small bag of clothes, some black long sleeve t-shirt’s that were way too big for you, some trousers and toiletries. The gesture was appreciated. You placed it down next to the metal slab of a pull-out bed… Damn, it is what is. You scold yourself, you’ve never had luxury, why do you expect it now? Maybe the promise of freedom was sweeter than it actually was. He nods for you to follow him out of the room.

He shows you the fresher, which is small but practical. Next, the carbonite freezer, explaining briefly that this is where his bounties go. Then, he pointed to his cabin, making it explicitly clear not to enter or open it unless he says so, even in emergencies. You thought it was odd but then it clicked as to why, and so you let the question die before it surfaced.

You’ve heard the stories of Mandalorian’s, how they’re the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You’d read books about the battles, the power that ran through their blood. Through your job, you’d come across a few who posed as Mandalorian's but were never real. They wore the armour for protection and style, never out of honour. But with the way this guy acted, spoke and had some sort of attachment issues to his armour… you sussed he was the real deal. Xian even said the doesn’t take it off during…stop.

_____

A few days had passed now and Mando was getting more and more agitated. You’d stopped off at a small spaceport on a remote planet to gather more supplies and fuel.  

You walked together through the market. He’d given you a small bag of credits so that you could get some spare clothes, toiletries and anything else you’d need for your stay on the Razor Crest. It wasn’t much but was enough to tide you over. You couldn’t complain, you had no money so it was better than nothing. You made sure to say thanks as you walked out the ship, following just behind him.

The market was a bit overwhelming at first, but once you’d realised that no one was out to get you you settled down. Mando walked in front, the Kid sat up in his pod, watching the people go about their lives. You noticed that people were making extra effort to stay out of his way, turning to whisper to others as you passed. He stuck out like a sore thumb wearing all that armour, but he didn’t seem to care. It certainly made traversing the busy streets a lot easier. You also found that you got things for a lot cheaper too, he’d stand just over your shoulder each time you went to a stall. The owner would give you the biggest smile whilst simultaneously trying not to anger the armoured chrome bucket behind you.

You found one stall that sold a bazaar range of things, from cutlery to footwear. But what caught your eye was the small Orback toy sat over in the far corner. It was perfect for the kid, it’d keep him distracted and it meant that Mando might get the silver chrome ball back. You asked for the price, not bothering to haggle the shopkeeper. Once you’d paid for it he handed it over and you placed it straight into the Childs hands. He looked it over for a second, confused at what you were giving him. He soon realised and the noise he made melted your heart, he was ecstatic. Waving it around in the air you grabbed the silver ball and handed it to Mando. He nodded at you, then glanced at the now screaming child who was what looked like laying down the law to his new friend.

After a while, the distance between you and Mando got closer and closer until there came a point where your arms were practically nudging one-another with each stride. You didn’t mind the contact, it was nice actually. Even in the busy streets, you felt like the only one there, his presence looming and protective. As the streets got busier you started to get antsy, you’re now scanning for possible threats. You didn’t want to slip up on your first day on the job, first impressions count. Mando could sense your tension and tried to soothe you by resting a hand onto the small of your back as you were walking. It brought your attention away from the dark alleyway and the rooftops and right into his touch. It paid off and you were instantly calmer. You said thanks through a small smile, which still hadn’t left your face whilst you were packing your stuff away back on the ship.

“We have to go somewhere, to pick up someone. I know you’re skilled in fighting, more than many I’ve seen” The compliment lands short as he continues, “The Child has a bounty and he isn’t safe until we take out the root cause. I'm going to need your help with this, is that ok?”

“Yes… for the Child, anything” He stared at you for a second. You guessed it was so he could read your face, ensure that you were ok with what he was asking of you. If it meant that the Child would be safe, then you’d do it. You know it was now your job, but over the few days you’ve been part of his crew, the Child has grown on you, incredibly. He’s already taught you so much, things you never thought you’d learn, and you’re grateful to the Child for that. Even though he can’t talk, he still finds ways to communicate warmth and hope. You don’t like to admit it but he is growing on you…a lot. He nodded and then left for the cockpit, firing up the engines and directing the ship out of the port. You turned away, walking back to your room.

__________

You wake screaming, the torture of your nightmare gripping your neck vindictively, suffocating you, dragging you into the depths of your mind that you never want to re-visit. You’re screaming but its broken, bloodied, hurt. You’re sat upright now, gripping your neck as you find release, the door to your cabin swinging open. He rushes in, quickly scanning the room for the cause, only to set his eyes on you and realise the root of the problem. He slows, just a small space between the both of you now, his helm still checking to ensure there’s no physical harm causing your pain.

You struggle to catch your breath, still clutching at your throat. The dried tears coating your cheeks, your eyes glint off of the ships dimmed lights. The extend of your struggle was shown in the reflection of his Beskar suit, the physical strain pertinent around your neck, the grip you’d been holding was enough to kill.

You were still struggling to breathe but were completely conscious now. Mando reached out a hand to your shoulder, trying to soothe you, “Breathe” He looks again to triple check the child isn’t doing any crazy magic as he had woken in a fit of tears too.

You quickly turn to look at him, your breathing still hoarse. The physical contact cutting through your mind and bringing you to now. Your eyes search for his. The black visor stared back. It’s probably good that you can’t see his face, as its currently slightly torn at the physical wound you’d inflicted to yourself in your sleep. His eyes scan the rest of your body, gazing at your arms which are now bare, the sleeves of the black-top he had given you were now rolled up. They’re riddled with scars of different shapes and sizes, but obvious. He glanced to your neck again, the edges of some pointed out from under the neck of the tee, some raised, some etched, some burned.

“Sorry for startling you…I…” The embarrassment starting to set in now you’ve absorbed the situation.

“The Child woke in tears too, and then I heard you screaming. Cara’s looking after him now”.

You furrow your brows at the new information. The Child too? Was he connected to your dream somehow? Or did the feeling transfer… you wouldn’t know, just acknowledging the connection and leaving it at that.

“Yeah… I was confused too…” he’d noticed the coincidence too, “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. You should start getting ready soon.”

All this information was starting to rack your brain, the sleepy haze in your mind making it difficult to focus. Then you remembered.

The last week had been a blur. You’d picked up some reinforcements for the mission. First, an ex-shock trooper who went by the name Cara, the tattoo was one of the first things you noticed. She wore it proudly. Cara seemed nice enough even though Mando had told her your backstory, she understood. Her eyes had seen the horror of manipulation too. She knew pain, death. You doubt she’d excuse what you did, but it seemed as though she’d done her fair share and maybe call it even. You’d made small conversation with her and it seemed that you could trust her, you hoped that she’d trust you too.

And then Kuill, now he was sweet. A kind, older Ugnuaght who had served the Empire. He’d done his time. Like you, he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do. The similarity between you two was silently acknowledged, he knew your pain, wanting to fight back but not being able to. He always spoke to you with soft words. You remember his admission with clarity. A day or so after picking him and his Bluurgs up, Mando and Cara were discussing the plan in the cockpit. You were sat in the corner of the hull, entertaining the Child, rolling the chrome ball back and forth along the floor. Kuill strolled up to you, holding your shoulder, bringing your attention from the Child to him.

“I too know the pain of Capitulation. I served my time, and now I work for no one. My soul is free. You are changed now, your punishment dealt. Make good of your life now it is yours. I have spoken.”

You didn’t know what to say but you knew that was exactly what you needed to hear. You’d never had kinder words spoken. It was bittersweet, but a lifeline nonetheless.

“I don’t know exactly how things will turn out so it’s probably best we prepare for anything” he admits, fear hidden in the admission somewhere. “I have asked Kuill to look after the Child along with IG. You’ll come with me and Cara to sort the problem. To finish this.”

Your head turns to the small Ugnaught now standing in the doorway, Cara to his side holding the Child. You nod politely to them, slightly embarrassed at how they were seeing you. The Child coos, his arms outstretched to his Dad. Cara walks into your room to give Mando the child, he coos again, this time more assertive. Cara tries to hand him over to Mando but he’s blubbering louder now, his arms are now outstretched to you. You sit up properly at the realisation. Mando nods to Cara, giving her silent permission to hand the Child to you. They both watch as you and the Child babble, his hand grabbing around your finger.

The connection warms you. He’s telling you through the only way he knows how that he’s ok, and that you should be too. He exudes calmness, soothing your mind to level with his. You smile at him, silently thanking him for his unique comfort. He nods back with a coo, head-turning towards Mando. He looks back at you with a toothy grin, releasing your finger then making grabby gestures to Mando. You smile to yourself as you watch Mando pick up the Child and leave, resting him in his right arm. Mando’s head was tilted towards the Child as if to ask what all the fuss was about. Cara watches them leave then turns to you.

“Hey,” She says calmly, sitting to perch on the side of your bed.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I didn’t mean to-” She cuts you off.

“Don't apologise, it’s ok, we all have bad dreams sometimes” She sports a small smile, letting you know she understands. You smile back. It’s nice to have another girl on the ship, you feel like you can open up to Cara a bit more than you can with Mando. You maintain the small smile, showing your sincerity. “The kid seems to really like you” She chuckles, showing a couple of teeth. She’s right, you both got along really well. You’d not known the Child for long but you were already smitten, the toothy grin got you every time.

“Thank you, Cara.” You don’t know what else to say. The simple reply is soft, thanking. You really did appreciate her care.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one that can make that little womp-rat smile. I’ve tried and he just… anyway. We’re not far out now. You should get ready”

You both exchange a small smile, it's sweet. You know you can trust Cara now.

___

The doors to the weapons locker opened and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping in awe. There was enough to form a small army! Does this guy have a thing for weapons or what? He reaches out and grabs a blaster. It’s exquisitely crafted, the mahogany wood polished to within an inch of its life. Once securing it in his belt, he reaches out again, grabbing two leather sheaths. Turning, he hands them to you. You put them on, one of them sits on your right thigh, the other sits just under your binder and rests under your shirt. You look up at him, his visor pinning you in place.

“I took you as a knives person” He deadpans, handing you two combat knives. Yeah, true, he’d read you like a book. You loved close combat, the thrill of it was always your favourite. You hated your past but you did have to admit, you enjoyed the hunt, it felt like fighting was what you were made to do. You drop your gaze to the knives. They’re pleasing to the eye. You’d not seen anything like it, the metal had waves to it, like an ocean. You traced a finger up one end of the blade, the sharpness of them tantalising, “Beskar” he chimes. Goosebumps riddled you like a rash, you couldn’t hide the grin that found your face. You’d not had a nice pair of knives since you were taken, hostage. Looking back up to him you thank him, placing one in the thigh holster and the other in the holster on your chest. You felt more confident now, adrenaline starting to prickle your senses; your body was starting to prepare itself for what was to come.

He reaches in again, grabbing a small belt. It was rough and tatty, this must be an older belt he’d once used, the one he wore now was a lot sturdier and more practical. Turning back to you he hands it over. You hear a slight scraping sound, like metal on metal. Inspecting one of the two pouches attached to it you found it was full of little throwing knives. They weren’t the same material as the daggers he’d just given you, but still sharp nonetheless. The grin feverish once you’d placed the belt around your waist, it hung lower than you’d like but it was still practical. You tested the buckle to see if it’d release quickly, and to your amusement, it did. You look back up at Mando, grin now toothy like the kids. “Thanks, hopefully, I won’t have to use them”

“Don’t lie, we all know you want to,” he said jokingly. So he finds it funny now? His comment makes you glance down. He was right, you were looking forward to it. Guilt floods your cheeks and you blush, now coming to terms with how you’d been acting. You didn’t want them to think you wanted to fight. This mission needed to go as smoothly as possible, for the Kids sake. Now they just think you’re in it for the blood, great.

“I didn’t mean it like that…I…” He stutters on his words, now realising the meaning behind what he said.

“It’s ok, I get it” you mumble back, turning away to get your boots from your room. You don’t notice him turning his head back around, watching as you walk back into your cabin.

___

Trust Cara to be carrying the biggest blaster from the locker. She’s all muscle that girl, and she knew it too. A blaster that size would look stupid if you tried to use it, you’re not even sure you could even lift it. Cara made it look like it was second nature, each to their own.

“Let me do the talking,” says Mando. Him? Do the talking? Is he having a laugh? The guy can barely hold a conversation, and now he thinks he’s some negotiating mastermind. You let it slide though, he is a Mandalorian at the end of the day, the armour does most of the talking for him. “Kuill, are the Bluurgs ready?”

“Yes. Someone will have to walk, I only have three” he says back to Mando, back turned as he’s fixing the final bits of equipment to the Bluurgs.

“I’ll walk,” you say, you’re the odd one out at the end of the day. You want to make a good impression, and you thought that a decent walk wouldn’t do you harm. You’ve not had a chance to properly stretch your legs in too long.

“You sure? It’s a fair way?” Cara asks back, she’s genuine.

“Yeah, I need to stretch my legs, let me lend a favour” you smile back. You really did want them to trust you, and you thought this is the least you can do to show your appreciation for their kindness over the last few days.

“If you get tired then you tell me,” Mando commands. There's no room for if’s or but’s, he means it.

You pull a sneaky grin, the temptation to say it was just too much, you can give in this once, right? You pick your next words very carefully but use the most seductive tone you could. It's just a bit of fun…

“Yes, Sir”

Cara chokes out a shocked laugh. You turn to her, she’s pulling her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. I'm glad that landed well… You laugh back as you both follow Kuill out of the ship to the Bluurgs, her elbow nudging your arm in a jokey way. You both continue giggling, not noticing the now slightly flustered Mandalorian.

Notes:

Hope u guys enjoy this chapter! the next couple chapters are quite action-driven as they follow the original arc, but I'm a few chapters ahead and let me tell you... is it getting hot in here?;)

[sedated-love]

VillainDekuxReader smut

Eighth post of October!! 

Alright, Hear me out- I wrote this after not sleeping for 30+ hours and I don’t wanna talk about it uwu

TW- Necrophilia, Kidnapping, body mutilation, noncon, cheating, Dark shit idk, please read at your own discretion 

If you have any suggestions for what I write in the future, please feel free to leave them in my ask box!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The next time they touch what’s mine, I’ll cut their arms off”

That was the warning that you got and yet you still didn’t listen. You belong to the number one villain in Japan. ‘Belong’ being the key word in that sentence. Deku kidnapped you a little over a week ago claiming stuff like soulmates and that he knew at first glance that you were meant to be his. You had tried to escape numerous of times, but it was impossible. Even if you did somehow manage to get out of his grasp, he would have someone bring you back to him in less than an hour.

He was the all-powerful. No one out ranked him in strength or in brains…and that included you. Though, despite knowing this, you couldn’t help yourself from finding a someone to try and keep you happy during all the bad. He was a nice guy that you met at the bar one night. He offered to buy you another drink and you offered to stay the night… but Deku has eyes everywhere and by the time you made it back, he already knew everything that happened down to the miniscule details, almost as if he had watched the entire thing himself.

You took your punishment with pride. You were used as a cock warmer for three days straight but for some reason you couldn’t help but feel a since of gratification in the fact that for the first time since you got kidnapped, you got to make your own decision. You would even go as far to say as you were happy, and it was that lingering happiness that had you wandering back to the man from the bar despite Deku’s warning. If only you had listened- then maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.

“Deku, please!” “I warned you, princess.”

He was standing with one foot on the male’s back, keeping him pinned against the ground as he held one of his arms behind him, making sure to keep it steady as his other arm held the axe above his head. You closed your eyes when you noticed the axe drop, the ear-piercing scream that followed being enough to tell you that Deku had kept his promise. “Ah fuck…” The curse had you opening your eyes but as soon as you did, you regretted it.

“Guess I’ll have to try again~”

Deku held the axe up again, holding the arm that hadn’t gotten lopped off all the way and was now only hanging on by a spare piece of flesh. Though not for long as Deku dropped the axe once more, taking it the rest of the way off as he ignored the sobs of the male below him. He tossed the dismembered arm at your feet, a sadistic smirk spearing across his blood covered face.

“How does it feel to know you could have prevented this entire thing, princess~?”

“S-St..op…plea…se..”

You were trembling where you stood, eyes wide in horror as you felt your stomach churn. You couldn’t stop yourself from puking right next to the arm that laid at your feet, feeling dizzy as you witness the most blood you have ever seen in your life spilling from where his arm use to be. Despite your pleads, Deku wasn’t finished yet. He grabbed the other arm, pulling it back the same way that he had the other before looking at you with a calm expression.

“I’ve dedicated myself to you. It’s only fair you do the same.”

He dropped the axe, taking off the other arm as the screams of pain haunted your ears. You weren’t sure you were ever going to be able to unhear them as they stained their way into your soul. You stood completely frozen in horror as you had always known Deku was a villain by hearing him speak of things but witnessing them was something completely different.

You took a step back as he walked towards you. His face was still calm, but it was covered in blood as he threw the second arm to the side, completely ignoring the now armless man who was bleeding out on the floor not even 6 feet away from you. “Now, it’s time you learn your place.”

He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, dropping his bloodied axe before dragging you back over to the body that was still offering soft sobs below you. You felt your own sobs escape your throat as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your chest heaved rapidly as you felt panic and fear making themselves at home in your bones. The guilt that you felt looking down at the innocent man below you was overwhelming. None of this would have happened if you had just listened to Deku’s warning but you were greedy, and you did what you wanted without heading the consequences. Now you were pretty sure his life was on your hands as he was losing blood fast and Deku didn’t seem to have any interest in saving him.

“You wanted to fuck him so badly, right~? That’s why you caused all of this”

He turned the half dead man onto his back, yanking down his pants and boxers in one pull. “Suck him off.” Deku’s expression turned dark as he stared at you with a deadly serious expression on his face. “W-Wha…” He grabbed you by the back of your head, yanking you down to your knees next to the bleeding body, his voice turning into almost a growl as he spoke.

“You wanted him so suck him off.”

He spoke in a lower octave than normal that told you it wasn’t a suggestion but there was no way you could do it. You bent over to puke again but all you could manage was some dry heaving as you had already puked up everything you had. Tears were still streaming down your face and you looked at Deku with a pleading look, silently begging him to not make you but he already had his mind made up and he never was a very patient man.

“I suggest you start sucking…unless you wanna lose an arm as well~”

He yanked your head down so that your face was rubbing against his bare crotch before you could even respond. You squeaked and tried to pull back, but he had a tight grip in your hair, keeping your face firmly in place. “I won’t tell you again.”

Defeated, you whimpered as you took the flaccid penis of the half dead man in your mouth, giving soft sucks in between your sobs. “Come on, princess~ Suck it like you mean it.” He bobbed your head with his hand still entangled in your hair, making you follow the motions as if you were giving an actual blow job. “Isn’t this what you wanted~? This is why you cheated on me, right~?”

He let go of your hair only to yank down your pants and underwear, making quick work of his own as well. “Don’t stop sucking.” He lined up his hard member with your entrance, shoving all of himself in without any prep or warning. A muffled weak moan left your mouth as you continued to suck the soft dick, knowing what would happen if you let it leave your mouth but you were pretty sure it would be impossible for any guy to get hard after having both of his arms sliced off.

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, princess~”

Deku purred as he started thrusting inside of you, grabbing roughly onto your hips so that there were bound to be bruises in the shape of his hands there tomorrow as he slammed his thick cock deep inside of you, pressing right against your soft spot with every thrust so that you had no choice but to moan despite your circumstances.

“Awe~ He died so fast~”

Deku didn’t stop pounding as he said this, but you yelped, pulling your head off the cock in your mouth as you looked up and saw the now breathless corpse that was laying underneath you. A panicked yelp left your mouth as you tried to push yourself away from the corpse but Deku’s tight grasp on your said otherwise.

“Oh no, princess~ You can’t blue ball him~ You gotta finish the job!”

He roughly pushed your head back down against the cock that you had no way of finishing, not seeming to care. “I-I ca…nt…” You choked out weakly between your slight gasps as Deku was still thrusting inside of you as if you weren’t fucking on top of a dead body. “I don’t remember giving you an option.”

He stopped thrusting just to grab your face, pinching down on your cheeks until he forced your jaw open. He then shoved the cock back in your mouth before keeping a hand placed firmly on the back of your skull so you could do nothing but keep it deep in you mouth as he went back to thrusting deep inside of you.

You felt absolutely awful and you wanted to hate it but he was thrusting right against your soft spot with every thrust in the way that had you moaning pitifully against the corpse settled in your throat. He reached around with the hand not holding your head down to rub your clit in time with this thrusts as he let out his own moans of pleasure, hips bucking rapidly against yours as the sound of your skin colliding combined with the lewd wet noises of him entering you got progressively louder.

“Your sucking in my cock so greedily~”

He purred as you started to melt in the pleasure. The more you surrendered yourself to it, the less pain you were in and soon all you could feel was the pleasure of his dick hitting the deepest parts within you. Loud pleasured moans escaped your throat as you weakly bucked your hips against the hand that was rubbing against your clit. Worst of all, you even began idly sucking at the cock that was still in your mouth as your brain turned to utter mush. You felt the recognizable heat building in your stomach, your vision going white as you cummed roughly from Deku’s manipulation.

His hips never stopped, though. He continued to pound into you, sending over stimulation running hot over your entire body as you began to quiver under his touch. He used your body to get himself off, not stopping until he was cumming himself almost an hour later, leaving you broken and twitching underneath of him as you had no choice but to take it.

“Fuck~”

He slowly pulled out, watching as his cum slowly started to dribble out of you as he finally let go of your head, letting you pull your now sore jaw off of the cock that was in your mouth as you went limp against the lap of the dead man that you had cheated on deku with. He purred, running his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him sleepily and completely out of it. A pleased rumble left his throat as he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“You’re all mine~”

[margridarnauds]

Things I Wish I Had Known About Being A Celticist (Before Becoming One):

1. If you’re North American, you’re going to have to work twice as hard to get the same level of respect as your peers from Europe. Get used to that now, because it won’t get any easier as time goes on. You’re also going to very likely be in classes with people who, while not FLUENT in Gaeilge, have at least some background in it. This can be a blessing and a curse - The curse is that you have less of an idea of what’s going on, the blessing is that the professors will focus a lot of the tougher questions on them, at least at first. 

2. “So, do you have any Irish family?” You will be asked that question. All the time. If you’re North American or English. Unless you have, say, a grandma from Tipperary, the safest answer is always “No, not at all! I just love the literature/history/language/etc.” 

3. Love languages? You’re going to! On average, depending on your program, it’s likely that you’ll at least be learning two languages. At enough of a level where you can get pretty in-depth when it comes to the grammar. Most Old Irish experts are expected to know Old Irish, Middle Welsh (at least enough for comparative purposes), and German, with Latin often being brought in. You’ll also be expected to be able to comment on the development of Old Irish, Middle Irish, Early Modern Irish, and Gaeilge - It’s essential if you’re going to date texts. There are also multiple other Celtic languages (Breton, Manx, Cornish, Scottish) that, while they might not be ESSENTIAL for whatever you’re doing, are still going to be cropping up at different times for comparison purposes - I’d be lying if I said I knew them WELL, and most people tend to stick fairly firmly to their area, BUT you will probably be learning at least a little of them. (Personally, no one asked me, but I honestly think that I couldn’t call myself a Celticist if I just knew one Celtic language, it’s why a longterm goal of mine is to build up as much knowledge of the others as I can.)  I’ve seen quite a few scholars go in thinking that the linguistics part won’t be important, only to be slammed by the program early on. Even if you just want to do literary analysis, you’re going to have to explain the meaning and development of individual words, as well as situating it in the broader scope of the development of your language of choice. (IE “This is a ninth century text, and we know that because it has intact deponent verbs, the neuter article’s dying out, and no independent object pronoun. Also everything’s on fire because Vikings.”)

4. You’re very likely going to have to move. This applies mainly for North Americans who want to do it (unless you happen to live directly in, say, Toronto or Boston, in which case ignore what I said and, Bostonians, polish off your GREs and prepare to listen to Legally Blonde the Musical on repeat because you’re going to be applying for Harvard). There are very few Celtic Studies programs in the world and, in general, most of the major programs, sensibly, are in Celtic-speaking countries - So, if you want to study Scottish, you go to Scotland, you want Irish, you go to Ireland, Welsh in Wales, etc. If you already wanted to move to Europe for a year or two while you’re doing your MA, then great (and for EU students this doesn’t apply, since they can relocate much easier...unless they were planning on going to the UK in which case.....my condolences), but if you didn’t have any sudden plans to move, keep it in mind. From an American perspective, it was literally cheaper to move to Ireland and do my MA there than to deal with the school system here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other inconveniences associated with moving to another country. Even if you’re European, the field is fickle - An Irish scholar might find themselves moving to Scotland, an English scholar might find themselves moving to Ireland, etc. etc. These things happen when you have to take what you can get. 

5. You don’t need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. You do not need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. When I first applied for my MA, I thought I didn’t have a chance because I had a general Humanities degree and didn’t have any formal experience with a Celtic language, least of all Old Irish. As it turns out, most programs do not expect you to have a background in this sort of thing beforehand, and quite a few have different programs for those who have a background in this stuff VS those who don’t, so don’t feel, if this is what you REALLY want to do, like you can’t just because of that. Show your passion for the field in your application, talk a little about the texts you’ve studied, angles you’re interested in, etc., make it the best application you can, and you still have a shot even without Old Irish (or, for non-Irish potential Celticists, whatever your target is.)  

6. It’s competitive - Just because you get your MA, PhD programs are fewer and farer between. Academia in general isn’t known for its phenomenal job security, but Celtic Studies in particular is very fragile, since we generally are seen as low priority even among the Humanities programs (which, in general, are the first to be axed anyway.) If you focus on medieval languages as opposed to modern ones, you might very well find your program ranked lower in priority than your colleagues in the modern departments. Especially since COVID has gutted many universities’ income. I found that getting into a MA program was significantly easier than planning on what to do afterwards, since, for a PhD, you generally have to go someplace that can pay you at least some amount of money. Going into your PhD without any departmental funding is a recipe for burnout and bankruptcy, and there are very few Celtic Studies programs that can pay. Doesn’t mean you can’t try, and, when paid PhDs become available, they tend to be quite well publicized on Celtic Studies Twitter/Facebook, but keep in mind that you’ll be in a very competitive market. Networking is key - Your MA is your time to shine and get those treasured letters of rec so that you can get that sweet, sweet institutional funding for your PhD. 

7. You’re very likely not actually going to teach Celtic Studies. Because there are so few teaching positions available worldwide, it’s much more likely that you’ll be teaching general Humanities/Composition/etc. This doesn’t mean that you’ll be giving up Celtic Studies (conferences are always going to be open, you don’t have to stay in one department for your entire life and can snag a position when it becomes available, and, even if you go outside of academia, the tourism industry...well, it was looking for Celticists, before The Plague), it just means that if teaching it is what you REALLY want to do with your life, it might be good to check your expectations. A few programs even have an option where you can essentially double major for the sake of job security. (So, if you always wanted to be the world’s first French Revolution historian/Celticist/Gothic Literature triple threat......................the amount of reading you’d have to do would likely drive you insane but................)

8. Make nice with your department. Make nice with your department. Celtic Studies departments tend to be small and concentrated, so you’re going to be knowing everyone quite well by the end of your first grad degree, at least. You don’t have to like everyone in it, but they aren’t just your classmates, they’re your colleagues. You will be seeing at least some of their faces for the rest of your life. I can say that my MA department remembered students who left the program a decade ago. Your department is supposed to have your back, and they can be an invaluable source of support when you need it the most, since they understand the program and what it entails better than anyone else can. You’ll need them for everything from moral support to getting you pdfs of That One Article From A Long Discontinued Journal From The 1970s. I’ve seen students who made an ass of themselves to the department - Their classmates remembered them five years later. Don’t be that guy. Have fun, go to the holiday dinners, get to know people, ask about their work, attend the “voluntary” seminars and lectures, and do not make an ass of yourself. That is how you find yourself jumping from PhD program to PhD program because your old professors “forgot” your letter of rec until the day after the deadline. Also, since your departments are small and concentrated, it’s a good idea to prepare to separate your social media for your personal stuff vs your academics as much as you can, since it won’t be too hard to track you down if people just know that you do Celtic Studies. 

9. Some areas of the field are more respected than others. If you want to do work on the legal or ecclesiastical aspects, excellent. If you want to focus on the linguistic elements, excellent. If you’re here for literature.....there’s a place, though you’re going to have to make damned sure to back it up with linguistic and historical evidence. (There’s less theory for theory’s sake, though theoretical approaches are slowly gaining more acceptance.) But if you’re here for mythography or comparative approaches...there is a PLACE for you, but it’s a little dustier than the others. There are fewer programs willing to outright teach mythology, mainly because it’s seen as outdated and unorthodox, especially since the term itself in a Celtic context is controversial. Pursue it, God knows we need the support, but just...be prepared to mute a lot of your academic social media. And, really, your social media in general. And have a defense prepared ahead of time. With citations. Frankly, I think my Bitch Levels have gone up a solid 50% since getting into this area, because consistently seeing the blue checkmarks on Twitter acting like you’re not doing real work while you’re knees deep in a five volume genealogical tract tends to do that to you. If it ever seems like I go overboard with the citations when it comes to talking about the Mythological Cycle, this is why - I have to. It’s how I maintain what legitimacy I have. I’d still do it if I’d have known, but I would have appreciated the heads up. (On the plus side - It means that, in those few programs that DO teach mythology, you’re golden, because they want all the serious students they can get.) 

10. If you really, really love it, it’s worth it. After all this, you’re probably wondering why anyone would sign on for this. The work’s grueling and often unrewarding, you might or might not get respect for what you do based off of where you were born and what your interests are, and you’re subject to an incredibly unpredictable job market so you might never see any material compensation for all of it. But, if you can check your expectations of becoming rich off of it, if all you REALLY want to do is chase it as far as it can go, then it’s worth it. There’s a lot of work to be done, so you don’t have to worry too much about trotting over the same thing that a dozen scholars have already done. You might get the chance to be the very first person, for example, to crack into a text that no one’s read for over a thousand years, or you might totally re-analyze something because the last person to look at it did it in the 19th century, or you might get to be the first person to look at an angle for a text or figure that no one’s considered. If finding a reference to your favorite person in a single annal from the 17th century makes you walk on air for the entire day, then you might very well be the sort of person the field needs. 

[vesperlionheart]

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move. For KisaSaku. :D

KisaSaku & a belated happy birthday for @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth!

(Sort of a companion fix to This One)

‘In matters of inheritance in the land of Kirigkure, the country is old and small enough to cultivate its leftover practices from the oldest days, when Kiri citizens had to fight tooth and nail to protect what was once only a small fishing inlet. Their monarchy equivalent is selected from the previous ruler and approved by a majority vote from the three departments.’

“It shouldn’t count until an official hearing is held to conclude such matters,” Sakura grumbled to mostly herself. Mei was the least sympathetic out of all her supporters when it came to Sakura’s mood and opinions on her stupid country inheritance.

When Mei heard Sakura’s grumbles she only giggled and added another ‘grievance’ scroll to the ever increasing pyramid of incoming missives that would need to be addressed by the end of the day. “Honestly, you have no one else to blame but yourself. What did you expect would happen when you arrived on our borders with all of Tsunade’s tutelage and the copy nin’s keen sense for seeing underneath the underneath? You thought we’d let you go?”

Speaking of Kakashi made Sakura remember the old man’s poor advice: “Just go and check them out. Get in a few fights, drink a little and show them how terrible of a leader you would really be.”

That had worked out terribly.

While Sakura was legally considered a citizen of Kiri, she had grow up outside its boarders and adapted to the culture of the Fire Country where it mattered to have manners with strangers. Her strategy had been to walk in with a buzz and a beer in hand, provoke a shop keep, fight a swordsman-a legendary swordsman-and curse her way out of town. Everything had been going tremendously well, except actually it hadn’t. Kiri was wet in more ways than one and Sakura had unwittingly impressed more than just a few curious eyes with her tolerance of the local booze. Shit talking was seen as a greeting amongst Kiri locals, and fighting might as well have been synonymous with hugging.  

“They’ll kick you out soon enough and you’ll be back home before you know it.”

For not the first time, Sakura lamented Kakashi’s backhanded advice. When she berated him about it later on he only congratulated her on the revitalized economy, the updated hospitals, and all her efforts towards dismantling the caste system. Sakura’s protest that she never meant to do any of that fell on deaf ears.

The trial month was nearly over and plans had already been made to install her as their Mizukage, a position that would put her on par with her one time teacher, the Hokage in the Land of Fire. There was a lot of pomp and ceremony the elders were caught up in that pushed back the actual initiation-but the decision had been made and Sakura’s will was not enough to reject the concessions of the Trident-or the three seats of the Mizukage’s cabinet.

Mei made up the executive branch of the Trident, while the seven swordsmen made up the military branch. Yagura was the head of Economics and the mouthpiece of the Elders who weighed tradition against advancement. Sakura’s job would be to balance all three of their voices and carry the responsibility of any decision they came up with. Only a 3 to 1 vote could overrule a Mizuekage’s executive orders.

“Have you chosen your Second Shadow, yet?” Mei asked.

“I’m actually hoping that if I don’t that this whole party thing can get called off,” Sakura sassed back to Mei, already half finished with the next scroll and all but made up on her finial verdict for the request it presented.

“Have you looked at my boy?”

“Chōjūrō is a sweet kid and will make a fine swordsman one day,” Sakura answered diplomatically.

“But…?”

Sakura looked up and glared. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish and he still somehow came up with the idea, completely on his own with no help from anyone, to wait for me in my hotel room in a silk robe and slippers and nothing else.” Sakura’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I don’t take kindly to attempts of coercion.”

“The kid just wanted your favor and you would hold that against him?” Mei playfully teased.

“I didn’t appreciate it, Mei. Don’t bully your boy into my bed.”

Mei rolled her eyes and picked through the finished missives Sakura had set to the side. “He needed the encouragement. He wouldn’t have done it, even though he wanted to, without some help.”  

“I’m not like you, I don’t enjoy robbing the cradle.”

Mei snorted. “Okay then, babe, tell auntie what your type is?”

Sakura paused and looked up over her next scroll. “Why?”

“Can’t you just believe I’m curious? Why do you have to sound so suspicious of every one of my questions? I’m honestly just curious.”

Sakura’s expression turned blank but Mei didn’t seem to care. “Sure, and my answer would have nothing to do with an attempt by you and the elders to set me up with a nice local boy who will convince me to stay. Suuuuure.”

“So if you’re not interested in our little prince, what abut the naughty type. Suigetsu doesn’t have anyone right now.”

“I thought you were trying to convince me to stay, not scare me off. That starfish can’t keep a relationship on lock for more than a month for a reason, and it isn’t the fault of any of his partners.”  

“So the naughty type is a turn off. What about the daddy type?”

Sakura’s face made an expression of horror. “Gross.”

“Not literally a daddy, don’t look at me like that. You might be surprised so don’t knock it till you try it. I’ll put that down as a ‘maybe’ for now.”

“Please don’t.”

There was a knock on the door and Sakura shouted out for them to enter before Mei could even turn around. A half second later Sakura realized her mistake when she saw Mei’s gloating face. The office already felt like it was Sakura’s.

Damn.

“What?” Sakura barked a bit rudely when Yagura stopped in front of her desk.

 “There’s an issue with deployment.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t Kisame and Zabuza usually the ones who tell me what’s shit with their nin?” Sakura dropped her scroll and leaned back in her seat before waving for him to continue. “What is it?”

If Yagura was bothered by her rude address he didn’t let it show on his face and he never let it carry over into their conversations outside of work. “More of the Kaguya raiders are making issues for the settlements but we don’t have the resources to send out anyone to deal with it. Kisame and Zabuza are both off on missions you approved.”

“This really requires an S ranked response?” Sakura asked, knowing there were few others who could do what Kisame and Zabuza did. If Yagura was asking for either of them he deemed the threat S ranked.

“I’ve already written up the details of the response we’d need.” Yagura produced a thinner scroll and Sakura took it as it passed over her desk.

“If we didn’t have one of the swordsmen on this we’d need at least two dozen nin and we just don’t have those kind of numbers right now.”

“What’s the best we can do?” Sakura asked while rolling back in her chair to check the chart on the wall with a dozen different secret symbols that helped keep her up to date on the military numbers. It showed how many nin of different rank were deployed, how many were wounded, how many were undercover, and how many were available for deployment. It still took Sakura a minute to decipher everything on the chart but she would have it like a reflex by the end of the month.

“Eight.”

Sakura made a face. Eight was a really low number and it was her fault they were in this situation in the first place. She had gambled and played the number game with her nin. Kiri always needed a coalition of soldiers to defend it in case of invasion, and so even if there were over two dozen shinobi at home, she couldn’t touch those.

“Kisame is due back this afternoon, how time sensitive is this issue?”

“It depends on how much the lives of these colonists matter. They’re notorious for skirting on tax payments and regularly sell their produce to rival groups before our citizens.”

“But they are our citizens,” Sakura clarified. They lived outside the walls of Kiri and were largely bitter old marsh farmers and fishermen, but they were culturally more Kiri than Sakura.

“It would be a shame to loose their assets,” Yagura honestly answered. “The Kaguya clan would only grow emboldened if they took over the rest of this territory for themselves.”

Sakura was already standing, pulling off her robes. “Mei, tell Kisame to head over to the settlements as soon as he gets here, even if he’s on fumes. Just the sight of his big blue mug will send some of them running.”

“What are you doing?” Mei asked, eyes wide.

“I’m dealing with this. I still have my rank from Konoha. I should be sufficient with these four,” Sakura said while showing off the mission scroll with her name and four others filled in. “I’ll let them know personally. Yagura will-”

“I understand. I’ll stand in until you’re back.”

“You can’t leave, you’re our Mizukage,” Mei agrued. “That’s against customs. If you fall-”

“I’m not Mizukage yet and you still can’t tell me what to do,” Sakura warned before stalking out of the office with hands itching for a fight.

Hours later her Kabutowari was soaked with blood on both ends, both the hammer and the axe head had been fed enough blood and savagery to sate its appetite for carnage. Sakura was proud of their success and how cheep it cost. Not a single soul on her unit had been seriously wounded or lost and that was quite an accomplishment considering the Kaguya attacked in bands of eight to twelve.

“It’s cause we got to fight with our Mizuekage that our moral was so high,” old man Jinin cheered, looking ready for a stiff drink and maybe an audience who could listen to his tall tales and elaborations on the day’s battle.

Haku came up beside Sakura and touched her elbow to get her attention and she leaned in while he whispered the status of the nin’s health along with the injury inventory. It was a new step Sakura wanted utilized when units emerged from battle. If hospital records could be updated with a complete list of all injuries-including those treated and healed on the battlefield- it would help in future diagnostics.

Haku had helped develop the program and sell it to the other medic trained min. He had been invaluable in helping roll out new changes and on the battlefield his skill set had complemented her fighting style well, since he was more of a long range fighter while Sakura liked to deal damage up close.

“We’re good to go then,” Sakura sighed. “I’m tired. Someone treat me to hot saké once we’re back,” she playfully whined only to get a roar from the men and women on her team. 

Haku kept close to her side and walked with her until they got to the natural mist. Sakura gave the signal and the rest of her team blurred into the fog and took off like birds in a dive, unseen and deadly.

“You wanted to ask me something?” Haku queried.

Sakura was about to say yes but something else caught her eye and she pat Haku’s back in dismissal. “It can wait until after we’re back. I need to catch Kisame up but I’ll see you at the Drunken Whaler.”

Haku turned and saw Kisame emerging from he fog with the blood and grime from his last fight still stuck to his uniform. The two locked eyes and Haku nodded first before taking off.

“So, are you slipping for any particular reason or are you just getting old?” Sakura teased while approaching Kisame.

“Hey, no jokes about my age when my boss orders me to pull a double shift. Slave driver actually expected me to do some good here. Shows you what she knows.”

“Maybe she just wanted you to see what she could do, ever consider that?” Sakura teased back, shouldering her Kabutowar’s axe end on her shoulder while she carried the hammer half with an idle swing in her left hand. The weight never bothered her but she wondered how her weapon would react to a new pair of hands.

“How willing are you listen to your bad ass boss?” Sakura asked.

“You mean my hard ass boss?” Kisame teased back. “Dunno, it depends on the request. Does it involve drinking?”

“Eventually all decisions and requests involve drinking, but not yet. We can get sloshed at the Drunken Whaler with the rest of them but before we get that far…” Sakura rolled the axe head off her shoulder and held it out. “Wanna trade?”

Kisame whistled low and reached up to rub at some of the blood on his chin with the heel of his hand. The twilight was creeping in but the clouds were heavy and low so everything shaded in tones of gray and diluted yellow. Sakura saw a fragment of that sunken gold color in Kisame’s shark eyes when he looked at her weapon, but she wished he’d been looking at her.

He reached over his shoulder and rolled Samehada off his back, letting the bandages drop. The trade off was as natural as any other tradeoff would be between the swordsmen. If the seats hadn’t been filled Sakura might have replaced Haku as a swordsman, since she had a legendary blade and he didn’t. If she had been a swordsman she might have had the chance to do this earlier and with more than just Zabuza’s Kubikiribōchō, but she wasn’t a swordsman and this wasn’t a guaranteed thing.

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Kabutowari finished leaving her hand.

“Careful with him, Samehada can-oh, ya know, never mind. He’s a bitch that’s roll over for anyone with tasty chakra, I shouldn’t have worried for ya,” he chuckled while watching the handoff.

With issue, Sakura held the massive blade level and admired its scale pattern in the gray twilight. There was a delightful shiver as it sucked on her chakra and swallowed it down like a drunk with fine wine. Sakura could feel it purr not unlike how Kabutowari would in her mind once they were linked.

“Let’s see how you like this,” Sakura cooed before swinging Kisame’s blade against the wind and  stepping into the dance she had first learned for Kabutowari with minor adjustments since she was wilding Samehada in one hand. She felt it tense and almost cut at her hand but settled down as it realized what she was playing at.

Samehada cut into the fog and then shaved it down into a finer mist before wrapping it up around Sakura the way the first swordsmen would, back in the old days when chakra was still too wild to name and gods dared to walk amongst the children of men.

Through the mist and over her shoulder Sakura could see Kisame have fun on his own, dancing through the same steps with her two handed Kabutowari, showing mastery of the finer points in spite of his bulk. At first glance Kabutowari seemed too heavy and burly a weapon to expect any delicacy with, but if one wanted to unlock it’s full potential they would have to know more than just the brutal steps that wrought the most damage, they would need to know how to dance and make both the axe and hammer sing.

She watched Kisame twist through her steps like a ghost of her old master’s memory and watched, transfixed, as he let go of the axe side to swing around and snap back with perfect timing.

“Jealous?” the voice in her mind purred. Samehada helped himself to a drop more of her chakra as she paused in her steps.

“No, I know Kabutowari is my blade and he’ll return to me in time. There’s no reason to be jealous of your master for handling my blade so well.”

“Didn’t mean Kabutowari,” Samehada chuckled so deeply it made Sakura’s mind feel like a cavern with no end. A half second later she realized what Kisame’s blame meant and she giggled, almost manic at the implication.

“No,” she hissed through his stifled giggle. “No way, not you too. Leave me alone and let me have my fun.”

“Don’t see a reason you can’t have it both ways,” Samehada teased, poking at her palm but doing no real damage.

It wouldn’t hurt her if she could hear its voice and give him her chakra to sip on, but even if tried she’d be able to heal such a modest attack. There wasn’t any real danger to her from Samehada, but she felt unbalanced by his words enough to step out of the old steps and swing the monster blade down against the earth with a surge of chakra that split the earth.

She heard his excited cheer and delighted cackle as he served as the conduit to her legendary chakra release. Sounding almost drunk it asked for her to do that again but Kisame was already laughing at her and that was the only sound she could pay attention to.

“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night,” Sakura said with a tired laugh, hopping over to Kisame’s side with his sword. The exchange was easier this time but before Kisame could press Kabutowari into her hand their fingers touched enough for Sakura to feel where all his blisters had hardened into callouses. Even down the sides of his fingers she could feel the evidence of his devotion to the blade and she wondered, wickedly, what it would feel like to be handled by hands like that.

“Naughty,” Samehada purred to her before their link was severed. Sakura felt her face roar with heat and embarrassment, which she tried to play off by jumping back with Kabutowari and a nervous chuckle. Her weapon purred in confusion and almost understood but Sakura sealed him away into one of her pocket dimension before he could scream out the truth like an echo in her mind.

Damn, dirty thoughts-this was all Mei’s fault for planting the seeds in the first place.

Sakura ran her hands through the fog and then combed them through hair, grateful for the cool the almost night allowed. She knew she didn’t have a ‘pretty’ blush like some other girls. She went beat red and it was almost impossible to hide.

“We should head back, we’ve held back long enough the others might get worried. Plus, I wasn’t exactly quiet just now,” Sakura said.

“Aww boss, don’t make this old man run all the way back after I ran all the way out here only to be late,” Kisame playfully whined.

“What, you want to walk back. That’ll take forever,” Sakura said.

“Not for the whole while, but we can run off later. Can’t we just take it easy for a little while?” he asked.

Only because he asked Sakura agreed.

After a minute Kisame spoke up. “So the word going around is that you haven’t picked a second yet. Don’t you have any ideas or is no one willing to take on the load? You’re kinda a slavedriver.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“What are you thinking about.”

Sakura made a face, not knowing if he was teasing or being serious with his question. “It’s so different compared to Leaf, I mean this second almost feels like a marriage partner according to Mei, and it’s kinda serious enough that the thought process is similar. You pick someone and then they’re with you the whole time, nearly day and night, and that’s similar to how Shizune was for Tsunade, but…I don’t know, the cultures are different.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Kisame chuckled. “When Kiri loses a kage it’s tits up and everything goes to shit real quick-we know because we’ve seen it more than any of the other hidden villages. More assignations mean more hard lessons learned.”

“But does it have to be one person? Tsunade had ANBU who were rotated out all the time.”

“Yeah but that’s such a shit idea here. If I wanted to kill the Hokage I’d just impersonate an ANBU and wait in rotation until I was alone with-ah, don’t give me that face, I’m just saying hypothetical things.”

“It’s not so easy to infiltrate ANBU.”

“You say that like we haven’t ever done that,” Kisame snorted and then when he saw Sakura’s face he laughed. “Nothing so bad, boss, nothing so bad! You’ll see for yourself when you get access after inauguration, but those ain’t your people no more. You are ours.”

There were a few too many things making Sakura’s gut church with complicated feelings. What Kisame said about belonging to Kiri was right and it hurt, not because she hated being accepted, but because of what it meant for her ties to everyone back home-back in Konoha. Tsunade and Kakashi were her teachers but they couldn’t call her their disciple anymore. For the sake of the future of their foreign policy, Sakura had watched as the steps were taken to cut her off from the village hidden in the leaves until there was only one place she could run to. It wasn’t a vicious thing and there was nothing personal about it. Sakura actually understood why they did what they did-changing out the codes and locking her out of accessing ANBU updates.

Kiri was supposed to be her home now…her village.

“Boss?”

“You know you can call me by my name when it’s just us,” Sakura said instead, trying to sound annoyed so he didn’t misunderstand the meaning of her words and think she wanted him to speak to her familiarly. “Boss makes me feel like an old lady.”

The other feelings that made her gut churn came from the last thing he said to her. “You are ours.” Someone once said the people in Kiri were a people who knew loss to well to share decently in the future, thus they were a possessive people who coveted many things.

“Then Haruno kun-”

“Haruno kun?” Sakura sputtered. “What are you my uncle? No-ugh, you’re-oh man I had a teacher who would call me Haruno kun in school back when we were in the academy. You’re banned from the ‘-kun,’ if you’re gonna tack something on at least make it sound cute.”

“Sakura chan?” Kisame playfully called out, pitching his voice high and squeaking out the title.

“Never mind, I take it back, just Haruno or just Sakura, but nothing else. Gosh, I thought someone said that in Kiri they didn’t have manners or shit. Just call me whatever, I don’t care,” Sakura said even though she cared.

“Then Haruno, who do you think would be a good candidate for second. You’ll pick from the swordsmen right? Where else would you go?”

“Mei wanted me to go with her boy Chōjūrō but can you see that working out?”

“That jellyfish?” Kisame hooted. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish. You’d eat him alive for breakfast.”

“I live to entertain,” Sakura mocked with a silly bow. “But you’ve got a point about pulling from the swordsmen. What would that do to your seats? Would you replace whoever left or take in someone new?”

“Maybe Chōjūrō,” Kisame joked.

“He’s an excellent fighter, he just doesn’t have a future in politics,” Sakura defended. “I could see him growing into that role.”

Kisame watched Sakura a half minute longer before saying anything new. The sun was half sunk into the horizon and all the mist seemed to choke on dying colors as they waded through the distortion.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

“I have ideas but I don’t want to have ideas since I don’t like this whole set up. If it was up to me and the elders didn’t insist on tradition, I’d just have the Seven of you on rotation as my guard.”

Kisame made a thoughtful sound. “That could work as a back up, but you know how those old tradition fogies are.”

Sakura rubbed at her neck and looked ahead. “I need a drink. Race you back?”

“Ah, but I’m all tired from-” Kisame never finished his sentence since he chose that moment to flash step forward and take off running. Sakura cursed and raced behind him but came last and ended up having to buy a round for everyone at the pub.

When Kisame woke a week later he was wide eyed and energized, which was a rare thing for him these days. He normally hated mornings but the sight of his fresh dress uniform hanging up was enough to make him remember why today was such a big deal. It wasn’t just any other day, it was Sakura’s inauguration.

The whole of Kiri was hyped as fuck for a new Mizukage like Sakura, one who revitalized their economy and recovered their crumbling hospital system. The fact that she was the wielder of Kabutowari made it feel like a long lost child coming home from the war with spoils to share with the whole country. Sakura felt like she had always been theirs, like Kiri had always been her home. Even when she had been trying to piss people off and get out of the inheritance she had fit in too well. Her brash personality and strong convictions made her-

“Perfect,” Kisame said out loud, a little too caught up in his thoughts.

He grimaced a the sound of his thoughts and moved to wash up before dressing for the day. He needed to finish waking up or else he was bound to say something else equally stupid. Today was too important to look like a fool.

In short order he was as handsome as he’d ever get with an ugly mug like his and dressed for the occasion. Samehada fit into the latch carrier on his back and outside he saw the others waiting in the courtyard to the mansion where Sakura would start her procession.

Already, people were filling the streets in hopes of catching an eyeful of their new Mizukage on her first day on the job. Some were selling flowered crowns and wreaths as the newest trend had been to emulate Sakura’s flowery good looks. Young girls were cutting their hair like her and boys were dreaming about an impossible future among the swordsmen because of her. There was a building that had been painted with a modest mural of Sakura trees and different blooming flowers in celebration. The love his people had for her was everywhere.

“You’re not late,” Suigetsu taunted.

Kisame punched the younger boy in the face, ignoring both Suigetsu and his brother in favor of seeking out Zabuza. “Hey, you hear anything yet?”

“No one here knows who’s getting the nomination, that hasn’t changed,” Zabuza answered.

“Did you sign the consent form?” Haku asked, lookin up at Zabuza first and then Kisame. The consent form was basically a way those with the qualifications could put their name in the hat that Sakura could pull from.

“On day one, brat. Why, you didn’t?”

“I…I mean I eventually put my name in for consideration. I think I’d do well at it,” Haku answered, steeling his words towards the end even if he kept glancing back at Zabuza.

Between the seven of them, the only one Kisame seriously considered a challenge was Zabuza when it came to winning Sakura’s second. The pair of them were the strongest, arguably, and had a good working relationship with others. But, between the both of them, Kisame knew he was the only one who had been on Sakura’s side since day one when she first arrived. Even if Zabuza had been won over and was loyal now, no one had been in Sakura’s corner like Kisame.

Kisame thought his chances were good.

“Get in your dame spots,” Ameyuri snapped with a dangerous edge. Since Sakura had cured Ameyuri’s disease the kunoichi was near fanatical in her devotion to Sakura. When Kisame pretended to drag his feet Ameyuri snapped her sharpened teeth at his face and he backed up with a chuckle.

The doors to the mansion opened and the elders filtered out before Yagura and Mei. Yagura and Mei paused at the top of the stairs before joining the elders in the courtyard where their respective bodyguards were stationed. That’s when Sakura emerged at the top of the stairs to the mansion and the moment Kisame thought his heart was going to stop. 

The robes had never looked so good on anyone before. Underneath the white and blue folds a soft dress of flaring gray and white, detailed with pearls and accented with a thick mother of pearl gorget around her neck, like the kind samurai would wear of a heartier material. It was ceremonial but Sakura wore it like armor.

The bells on her hat tinkled as she descended the steps and took her spot at the head of the group. Her painted lips were pressed into a hard line and her jaw was set with determination, but she still looked soft where it counted.

Kisame caught her eye at one point and it made his smile grow when the corners of her eyes crinkled for him.

“Haruno Sakura…” one of the elders began.

The ceremony lasted no longer than twenty minutes before Sakura was told to turn around and address the others. “And in line with the traditions of our ancestors, I will honor them with this choice and accept a second. Should I ever fall may their strength be measured by the gods and men,” she recited perfectly. Then she locked her lips and held up a hand before adding, “and in addition to a second I will be installing a rotating support guard for the Mizukage, with the blessing of the elders who safeguard our traditions. Every member of the Seven Swordsmen will rotate into the role of a tertiary figure of my inner circle, behind my second.”

Beside him Ameyuri gasped in delight, suddenly filled with hope that even if she wasn’t chosen she would still be able to serve her idol.

“Mizukage, your pick for second shadow?” one of the elders prompted.

Sakura nodded and the bells on her hat tinkled. “For my second shadow I have chosen Yuki Haku to serve me. Yuki Haku do you accept?”  

That…didn’t… make sense. Kisame snuggled to hear what Sakura said next as Haku approached her and knelt before accepting the mother of pearl pin with the symbol of Second Shadow. Haku said something back to her, maybe in thanks, but all Kisame could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as his gut churned in a grief he couldn’t understand.