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lune-de-miel-au-paradis · 7 months

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Red as crimson, green as jade and gold confetti rain

Summary: Nina just wanted a night out with her best friend , to dance a little and release all her pent up frustraiton of her stressful life. However, she meets a pair of particularly captivating eyes and their owner.

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of dealing with illness, anxiety, trust issues, daddy issues, alcohol use. (Let me know if I left out something.)

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language. Moodboard made by me, pictures from Pinterest. Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

It was late, just the time when night stretched its dark substance across the sky. The three moons in different moon phases illuminated the night above the city of Theed. Despite the night, the streets were not deserted. This is when the streets near the city's university center really started to come alive. The streets were full of cheerful young people and many other species going from one place to another to have fun. For those who liked to relax but in a more peaceful environment, there were art bars and night cafes. Here it was possible to chat cheerfully, take part in a slam poetry evening, and play various games such as dejarik or sabacc. However, the back streets were filled with entertainment places where you could dance and drink. One of the best such places was the Pantheon. With it’s ornate columns and carvings, Naboo paid tribute to the ancient culture. It is both a reminder of the past and a monument to the future.

Inside, however, neon lights flickered and illuminated the dancing bodies on the dance floor. The place had a good reputation not only because the best DJs and bands held concerts here every night and served the most special drinks from faraway places, but it was also notorious for it’s serious security. There was no place for mischief and fights here. The security guards immediately threw out the troublemakers. Jedi were not welcome here, although they were not banned either. But the entertainers did not miss the superior judgment from those "monks”, it was way more exclusive anyway for them.

It was also forbidden to take pictures inside, so all objects suitable for taking photos were confiscated in a safe at the entrance.

After all, descendants of royal families and serious diplomats and bankers also had fun here. If you did not arrive with the right company or your name was not on the list, you could go to another place. Because baby, this is not a place for you.

The music echoed outside and reached her like a distant throb as she walked toward the queue. She doubles her pace because she knows she's a little late, she's been studying for too long. Her high heels clatter on the cobbled street, and her dark hair waves behind her shoulders from the movements of her haste. She hears a familiar voice, slows down with a smile and walks to the front of the line, where her dear friend Polina cheerfully waves to her.

It wasn't hard not to notice the girl. Polina was a little taller than average, her messy bob was pink, and her charisma oozed cheerfully around her like a sweet scented love potion. Her smile was easily contagious to others, she could also be very serious when it came to business, and if she was in a cranky mood the maker would beware of those vampire teeth.

But tonight was about relaxing and having fun.

"Over here! Little miss Always-late-Nina has finally arrived." she stretched out her long arms, hand in hand to help her friend crossing the cordon, shiny colorful thin bangles jingled on her wrists.

"You are not very funny." she rolled her eyes as answer. "I told you I would get here sooner or later. And it really doesn't matter since you put our names on that list."

"You look hot. I'm glad you bought the dress" her pink haired friend made a motion with her arm that spun Nina around.

"Me too"

After receiving the characteristic laurel wreath-patterned gold seal on their wrists, they walked in. With each step, the music became louder, first just a thump, then the beat and finally the rhythm reached them. The sound of the music almost collapsed on them. The whole room shakes with the power of the bass. The reflectors flash in shades of blue, purple, pink and white. Moving landscapes are projected onto the walls, creating the illusion that sinful souls are partying in the dense depths of a grove, a rainforest, the sand dunes and remote tropical beaches.

The crowd writhes, dances, bodies jump to the rhythm, bartenders in elegant clothes pour expensive drinks. The musicians rule the mood of the crowd like gods. The entertainment venue could be divided into three parts, the dance floor, the bar with its counter and the platform where the musicians and DJs were. The plan was simple to get a few drinks and become one with the dancing crowd. Maybe making out with a handsome male.

Nina ordered two drinks. It happened without words, there was no point in trying to shout over the noise. The girl signaled with her hand in a peculiar way, then swiped her card through the payment terminal. There was no possibility of cash here. The bartender mixed the drinks with spectacular movements, using all of his four arms. He could have been a separate spectacle, he was so precise that not a drop of drink was spilled, but thanks to his speed, they barely had to wait a few minutes when he handed them to the girls. Laughing, they lifted it up and drank it. Alcohol warms them like a liquid fire, their stomachs almost seem to be on fire too. On their tongues, they feel the sweet taste of cherries and the drink's special secret twist, the golden spice. It was a milder, refined version of the usual spice, legal in small quantities when mixed into a drink, but it was rather called by it’s name. So if someone wanted a special drink, they had to show the code name with their hand.

Nina asked for two Jupiter’s twist.

"I love this place! One day I'll open one like this too. Cool music, good drinks, secret hand signals. And only special people will come in, full of interesting and sexy people." Polina shouted into Nina's ear.

"If you're just having fun and not studying for the exams, I doubt that you'll have a chance to open a place like this without a good job."

"Hey, this isn't fun! I'd rather call it brainstorming! They don't teach that in marketing school! Where else would I get special ideas and useful tips, if not directly on the ‘field’? This is an internship, exactly as you will soon have to go." Polina is satisfied with the presentation of her own point of view, and after more sips she adds, "look, it's the same. I even pay for the drink in addition to the entrance fee.”

After the drinks, they went straight to the dance floor. They blend into the dancing crowd with ease. Everyone is beautifully dressed, moving in their own way to the beat of the music. There are even people dressed in costumes among them. Polina completely surrenders to the rhythm. Her every move is attention-grabbing. Nina takes two short drinks from a tray and they chug them. She moves her hips with ease and confidence, her arms snake around seductively. She throws her hair back and enjoys the way her dress hugs her body, the light reflecting off the silver dress as if it were a live disco ball. The dress is made up of small hexagon-shaped mirror panels, the mini skirt continues in an x shape, covering her two breasts, and forms a strap behind the neck. Her back is completely uncovered, her tattoo is visible. On her side and belly the intersections of the dress form triangular holes leaving her skin uncovered in those places. A transparent tulle-like material falls from under the skirt. Small hexagon-shaped crystals also sparkle on the edge of the bottom of the dress. It barely covers the strappy shoes she decided to wear tonight.

Her cocktail dress is definitely pretty, but not as flashy as the looks of the nobles here. Still, she feels very pretty and watches amusedly as the light from the dress's mirrored panels spills onto the wall and onto the dancers. She jumps and dances with Polina. The heat begins to bloom between their ribs. They dance until their feet hurt. They are surrounded by tangled limbs and perfumed necks. Glitters and jewels shine everywhere from the colorful canvases on which they are sewn. Even though Nina's skin is forming a thin layer of sweat and the air is getting more stifling, she doesn't stop. She feels free and careless. The problem is that it only lasts for a short time. She feels the anger that has been building up for years inside of her. No matter how much she dances, runs or gets every good grade, the anger doesn't want to leave her chest. It weighs down her heart from the inside like a millstone.

How much she craves a cigarette! Her surroundings were getting annoying. Too many, too narrow and too groping. While dancing, she thinks about how nice it would be to push the dancers away from her to have some space. Or how nice it would be to break the nose of the male who touches her unsolicited in more intimate areas. She didn't even notice that she clenched her fists and closed her eyes. She lets out a deep breath and pushes those thoughts away.

As she looked up, her jade eyes widened and fixed on another pair of eyes. This pair of eyes is dark and foreboding. They watch her from the darker corners of the club. The owner of the special colored irises is a zabrak species. In black from head to toe, if the lights weren't flashing he would almost completely blend into his dark surroundings. Around him, everyone moves as if he were just a ghost that came back to haunt and which no one can see, even Nina herself did not fall out of rhythm, just only her eyes froze on him. But she keeps eye contact, still. Neither of them blink, neither of them wants to break the spell that has taken over them. Nina was completely mesmerized by the pair of eyes. The outside of the iris was crimson red, and the inside, approaching the pupil, was as golden yellow as sunlight. Despite the low light, they almost glowed. He had the so-called "eyeshine" just like the big phantera cat breeds, about which Nina saw an educational film on the holonet, when she was a little girl.

His gaze is mercilessly fierce on her. He devours inches of her skin from a distance. Like an untamed wild animal that is hungry and wants to satisfy it’s need. Nina just shuddered instead of shaking. She had the bad kind of butterflies in her chest, all of them wanted to burst out of her. She liked this intensity, different from the usual bored or foggy looks and it affected her with a sense of novelty. She was the first to break eye contact, this overheated and attractive staring contest. She lost on purpose to raise their little game to a higher level. She surrendered herself to the beat of the music and elegantly suggested it with her every move.

"Come and play with me if you dare. Come and catch me if you can." Although she only started dating a few years ago, she believed there are two ways to manipulate a man: either to let him pursue you or let him pursue you in a way that makes him feel he's the pursuit.

However, she had to be disappointed, she glanced back stealthily and there was no sign of the male. As if he really was just a ghost, or maybe a projection of her own sinful imagination from the depths of her brain. An imaginary creation that embodied the anger and darkness that lived inside her. Add a little booze and maybe the effects of her medication and she has to decide if she has a vision of a desirable male or a trip to the mental hospital.

She stopped dancing and looked around but did not see the male anywhere. Polina jolted her out of her thoughts.

" You okay?" she gaped at Nina "Shall we relax at the bar for a while?"

Nina just nodded. Polina did not delay, she led her by the hand to a calmer place. The music was a few beats quieter and the air wasn't as dense here. Nina ordered a glass of water and drank it in big gulps. If she's really imagined him, she'd better stay a little more sober and not get off the ground. After all, she came to have fun and the destination was not the hospital.

"I'm so glad we came. I love this band! And did you see that togruta I danced with? He's so handsome, I'm about to cry. He was at least a head taller, and those strong arms... I'd love to climb that tree if you know what I mean…Besides, I heard Queen Padme is here too. She came with several look-alikes, but I think I spotted her, dancing not far from us. That's so cool! We don't have an ordinary queen, do we."

Nina didn't answer, just took a few more sips. Polina suddenly looked at her with concern, motherly and a hint of pity.

" Are you okay? You took your meds today, right? Maker! If you die here, I swear I'll pay a Jedi to raise you up and I'll kill you Nina Cerasus myself with my bare hands and teeth!"

Nina hated that look. Of course, she never said it out loud, but when Polina looked at her like that, or anyone from her circle of friends, she would have preferred to send them to hell. And that certain tone! Like she's just a silly little kid who needs to be reminded of her vitamins. Fuck it! She was no longer a minor or a child, she knows her limits and can take care of herself. This is her life, her illness and her mistakes!

"I'm fine, don't worry! The crowd was just a bit big. Let's go back, everything's fine now."

Polina looked at her in disbelief. Nina smiled despite her annoyance.

"Come on, that certain tree is waiting for you to climb. And I remember you mentioned the queen too..."

This time they didn't dance in the middle, but they actually saw Padmé dancing. Nina also found suitors to dance with. She danced with a human in a flashy navy suit and a blue twi'lek.

The strange pair of eyes reappeared just when she had already forgotten about him. Nina danced with her hips against the Twi'lek, letting him wrap his arms around her waist and they moved together. The male was quite a good dancer. The other held her by the waist, and buried his face in her neck. What a heaven to be! Still, Nina's gaze was caught by something more diabolical.

The zabrak moved through the crowd and approached her in a circle rather than straight towards her. Like when a predator surrounds it’s prey. The male's face was unreadable, but the girl still felt the curiosity and desire in him. So even though she danced with her partner, her performance was for only the zabrak. She moved her hips defiantly, tossed her hair, smiled and enjoyed the music. The girl kept eye contact the whole time, but she didn't forget about her dance partner either. She doesn't want to miss out on her handsome dance partners because of a wandering phantom. During the chorus of the song, they spun her around. Because of this movement Nina moved a little away from them, a little closer to the corner between the side walls, closer to him, the owner of the particular pair of eyes.

Nina felt exactly how close he was to her.

"So here you are. You got me." she thought with a smile.

The composition of the air has changed. It was dense but not suffocating, tingling and dark but still exciting. “I wonder what he will do now?”

Black gloved hands caressed her upper arms from behind. The movement was more subtle than she expected. And surprisingly uncertain. A strong chest stretched against her back, she could feel the strength in his body. Underneath his clothes, he can be all muscle, this thought made her wet in more intimate places. Nina slowed down her movements so that they could find their own pace together. But the male barely moves behind her. The hands slide down slowly to her waist and squeeze her tightly. She feels that on the top of her head, a nose digs into her hair and inhales her scent deeply. Encouraged, Nina slowly circles her hips around the male's groin, reaches back with her hands and touches the male's neck. His skin was warm and soft, despite looking quite rough from a distance. It reminds her of the darkness of the velvety night.

Nina closes her eyes, this is completely different, dancing with him. She hasn't seen her partner's face up close yet, but somehow this whole thing feels so intimate. Her movements are rewarded, the male behind her, lets out a rumbling sound, a growl, which Nina has never heard before, but she already knew that it was the sexiest sound a male could make. His presence was intoxicating. He was a mystery, which was interesting. She found him interesting which was the highest praise from her. Nina closed her eyes, enjoying the two of them swaying to the music, even if they weren't following the beat. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth after letting out a moan as she felt her secret partner press himself even closer to her back. The sound of her moans was probably drowned out by the loud music, but the zabrak still heard it. Nina knew because the gloved hands slid from her waist to her hips.

"How responsive" she thought.

However, she could not control her curiosity any longer so she turned and looked up. Her dance partner was exotically beautiful. Yes, that's what Nina thought of him first. The red-crimson glowing eyes, his tall frame, his broad shoulders and the red and black tattoos peeking out from under his black hood. She raised her fingers to touch the patterns, but instead the zabrak just leaned closer avoiding her touch, making her gasp. There was no kiss, not even their foreheads or bodies touched. But Nina felt his heat emanating from him, and the way they shared almost a breath, was far more intimate and sexy than a real kiss. She simply couldn't take her eyes off him. Her heartbeat quickened when she noticed how he was looking down to her lips. Before they could go any further, there was a bang, at the top beat of the music, Nina flinched a little but looked up with a smile. Gold glittering confetti ribbons rained down on the dancers from the ceiling. Everyone cheered and raised their hands towards the confetti ribbons. Nina did the same, laughing and holding out her arms, but when she looked for the mysterious male's reaction, he was nowhere to be found. The smile fell from her face in disappointment. She looked around, in the crowd, but did not find him.

She tried to make her way through the crowd. She had a strange feeling, perhaps she could have defined it as darkness, near the male, which now disappeared, along with him. Nina was never afraid of the dark, so it didn't bother her. She was more bothered by uncertainty. Did she just imagine it all? The dance, the chemistry, everything? She had already danced out the effects of the drink, so she knew she wasn't drunk or at least not that drunk.. Cheerful and a little buzzed, but definitely not drunk. She found Polina at the bar, who helpfully shook some confetti out of Nina's hair.

"What's with that look? You look as if you saw a ghost. Did someone hurt you? Because if so, then I shall use my fangs..."

"It's okay, I'm fine. Maybe I'm just a little tired. Will you be angry if I go home now?"

“I'll come too, it's getting late." Polina offered.

"It's not necessary, stay and continue your 'search', I'll be fine. I'll see you at home."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely." nodded Nina.

As soon as she stepped out into the streets, she was hit by the fresh night air, which was just cool enough to provide relief after the hot days and stuffy clubs. She didn't have a coat because she knew she would just lose it. Her feet hurt, so she took off and carried her shoes in her hands, her bare feet were quiet on the cobbled road. She sighed in relief as she felt the pain in her feet slowly disappear and the cold paved road cool her down.

A family got out of a car. Presumably they came from a trip or vacation. Nina toyed with the idea of where they could have gone and how lucky the little girl was to be carried in the arms by her father while she was sleeping, and together with her mother they entered the warmth of the family home.

Her stomach clenched and he swallowed back the urge to vomit.

A different kind of pain took its place. One she didn't want to think about. The second storm in her life. At that time she felt that she was being beaten up by the storms. She had no idea that even all these years later, these wounds would still be painful in her soul. She shook her head, not wanting to think about her father. Anger bubbled up inside her, just at the thought of that man. No, he doesn't deserve to even think about it!

She prefers to go to the nearby cafe that is just about to close, she curiously pressed her nose to the shop window.

"Are you taking anything or just cooling your face?" asked the young man who was at the end of his shift.

A few minutes later, Nina was munching on the cookie, which was dry and filled with vanilla cream, but now that would do. She got home in time, got out of her dress, cursing a little because the zipper pinched the tulle material, she left it on the floor as soon as she freed it and took a nice shower. She had almost used up all the hot water, but Polina would prefer a cold shower anyway.

She put on a comfortable t-shirt and fresh underwear. The T-shirt had the logo of the university and she opened the window of her room, through which she could go out onto the roof. Nina didn't go out, just sat on the windowsill, pulled up one knee and hung the other down outside, leaned her back against the window frame and looked up at the sky. Unfortunately, the sky was cloudy. But the faint outlines of the three moons were drawn across the haze of the evening sky. Just like the dry cookies, this one will do just fine for tonight.

"If this were a movie now, there would definitely be some dramatically melancholic music underlining the present." she thought to herself. But Nina wasn't in a melancholic mood, she was just angry and tired and tired of being angry and angry of being tired. She doesn't plan to go out today, but she saw her father on her way home from the library. He spoke his comlink and seemed happy. He must have been on the phone with his new family. Nina didn't go near him, she didn't even want him to notice her. However, she already knowed that she won't be able to study or rest after this. The usual coping mechanism remains, which means partying with Polina and dancing away all this tension, drinking drinks and maybe have a good fuck with a handsome stranger. She immediately remembered her mysterious partner and a tingle ran down her spine as she replayed the images of the evening over and over in her mind. Polina still didn't see him, but she promised to look into the list of names who were partying there today. She took her datapad and looked up the side effects of her usual medications and lit a cigarette. Of course, none of them recommended taking it with a drink, but based on what was described, enough time had passed for her body to process the ingredients of the medicine, so it could not cause hallucinations, at least not so lifelike.

Nina sighed, pale purple smoke left her mouth.

"Was he real or was it all in my head?"

She didn't even notice that a dark figure was watching her from the shadows from the domed roof of the observatory.

next chapter

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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fruitoftheweek · 3 years

Text

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 1: Who is She?

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 Here

I guess this is a Switch!Spencer (mainly Sub! Spencer)X reader fan fiction this is my first fan fiction I’ve written since middle school so bare with me and feel free to message me constructive criticism. This will probs be multiple chapters but I just couldn’t get this idea off of my mind so here we go! And yes this season 1/2 Spencer because he is just the cutest!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Plot: Doctor Spencer Reid has heard of little black books, but that pales in comparison to what he has just found in the BAU’s elevator. A sweetly scented notebook filled with salacious journal entries illustrating the writer's sexual fantasies. He doesn’t know what it is about this book but all he can think of is finding its owner.

TLDR: Spencer finds your kinky notebook and uses super sleuth skills to find you.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: Cumming in pants, Hinting at sex, exhibitionism, no panties, Language, General 18+, Hinting at future kinks

Word Count: 2,439 (gah damn)

𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝑀 𝐼𝒯 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒞𝐸𝑅𝒩𝒮:

𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

As Spencer read these sentences, he paused. Not for the warning of so-called curses, there was no scientific evidence for such things and Spencer knew magic was just science with a trick of the eye, but for the vehement warning making him feel intruding on whoever had left their journal in the elevator.

It had caught his eye as he stepped into the elevator on his way out of the office. As someone who had lost plenty of books in his days roaming the halls of the BAU, he knew how frustrating it was to not know what happened at the end. As he picked it up, he noticed the cover. It was old, bound in aged cherry red leather, yet too small to be more than a pocketbook. He had found your message while searching for a name to return the book to, and simply reading the first page already felt prying.

Alas, one sentence enticed him “If it comes into the right hands, You can find me.” Where his hands the right ones to come into? The probability of that could be found easily by calculating how many people got on and off of this specific elevator that day, no, in the past hour, with the hustle and bustle of people leaving for the day. Spencer could and he would calculate it he wasn’t so distracted by the message and his voracity to solve this mystery.

Tentatively, he flipped the page, finding a handwritten table of contents. This book had obviously been very important to the reader if they had taken the time to write in page numbers, detailed headings, and chapters. The table was nearly full of chapter titles in scrawled cursive lettering. His eyes stopped on the first chapter title. “Male Needs” with shakey lettering. He could tell by your handwriting that you grew more confident in your journaling as the chapters progressed, the hesitations in your strokes growing few and far between.

As he flipped the page once more he had reached the next floor and a large group of people bustled into the elevator. Spencer shied away from them, not just because he had an aversion to contact with strangers and their germs, but because of the sentences, he had read underneath that first chapter “I do not need a man, a man needs me. Yet, when I am with a man, I have needs. Needs that most men can’t fulfill. I need a man that eats pussy like it’s the only way to quench his thirst-“ and with that Spencer slammed the book shut, earning some confused looks from the others on the elevator. He should have heeded the warning because now all he could think about was the fact that this was your nervous entry and as your confidence grew, it was bound to escalate from there. He wasn’t sure if it was his flustered mind or the heat growing deep from inside him that made him feel dirty; not because it scandalized him, but because these were someone’s fantasies and he had intruded in their secrets and soiled them with his mind.

Ding! He had reached the ground floor and that was when he decided to leave it alone. He couldn’t bring it to the lost and found as it would be more likely to end up in the wrong hands there and your secrets would be for someone else to find, not that he even knew who you were.

On his drive home, he tried to think of anything else besides the book. His lunch, Garcia’s new item she added to her collection, how to get back at Derek for putting salt in the sugar container, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help that the notebook sat tauntingly on top of his satchel as if saying “Open me, you know you want to. You want to know who I am. You can find me.” There was no way that it had been there for that long as the janitor was on duty today and he had been on the elevator two hours ago on his way to clean the top floor. Since Spencer had left a little later than most people that meant there were multiple elevators full of people who would have noticed. He knew it wasn’t so but part of him felt as if you had left it there specifically for him to find. Like it was made for him. He quickly shook off the thought and went back to who it could be. He wanted to return it without reading any more. You clearly would miss it but he couldn’t imagine you wanted others to know about what lay in those folded corners of your book and your mind.

As he walked up the steps of his complex, he clutched onto the notebook with all of his strength, he feared that he would look down and it would have disappeared, he wanted to keep your deepest secrets safe as if they were his own. He was only able to relinquish his grip when he shut and locked the door to his apartment. He set it on the table as he got prepared for the night. By now he had limited his pool to 54 women who were regularly in and out of the elevator at that time of day which was a cut down in comparison to the 860 roughly women in that building on any given day. But that number still wasn’t small enough. He had to minimize the sample size even further. That was the only reason he reopened to the table of contents, right? Not because of his own morbid curiosity and definitely not because of the heat burning in his stomach.

He looked down at the page numbers, still too nervous to look at the titles, and saw that each entry was a page long consisting of 23 entries and one with a title but no page numbers. Not chapters as he previously thought but entries giving lascivious details into what he had not yet mustered up the courage to read. He was still unable to look at the titles in fear of what he might find. If graphic depictions of female oral sex were displayed under “Male Needs”, what possibly could lie ahead.

For now, he studied the handwriting. Cursive, not often used by many younger women, was often associated with antiquities and traditional values but he noticed something off. There was a very specific curl to certain numbers. Every even number had a specific extra curl or flourish to it and the zeros had a line through it like a “do not enter” sign. This went directly against the hypothesis that you were an older woman that the cursive provided; as many older women who wrote in cursive stuck to the rules even when it came to numbers. She wasn’t old enough to even be Hotch’s age but she appreciated the charm of the past. 'Who is this girl?' Spencer wondered. He was able to narrow it down to about half of his previous lot, excluding the women on his team. He had seen them write enough to know their handwriting inside and out. And while Garcia’s had similar flourishes to yours, she never crossed her zeros.

Spencer knew that he would have to read at least the chapter titles to grasp a better understanding of your handwriting and who you could possibly and as his eyes scanned the page, for the first time in a while he was actually reading slowly; putting all of his focus into each word and what order they were in. Unfortunately, his focus was his downfall. His face became so hot that he felt as if you could see steam coming off of it.

Table of contents:

Male Needs

Praise

Degradation

Mommy

Daddy

Work

Exhibition

Choking

Collars

Breeding

And that was all he could take. Ha couldn’t look at the thirteen and a half more entries, even this much knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t have much experience with women and certainly not enough to understand what all of those words necessarily entailed but he knew that whatever it was keeping his internal fire roaring with heat.

While he hated snooping, he knew he would need more information. He chose the chapter that sounded the most mundane out of all of them, "Work." ‘What was more normal than work.’ he thought, but he was so sorely mistaken.

"Work:

"Before I move on to exhibitionism, I have to talk about work. Yes, I would love to have sex at work where I and my partner are one step away from getting caught, I haven’t done that yet. I want to tell you what I have done. Almost every day I go to work wondering if the others can tell that I’m not wearing underwear.”

His heat spread from his face down until it pooled in his loins and his cock became hard imagining this mystery girl walking the halls of the BAU with a breeze in her skirt, nearly exposing the secret that lied beneath. Had he sat next to you when you were partaking in this activity? What would he have done if your skirt bunched up your thigh as you sat, exposing the tan lines where your underwear should be. Would he be able to see you in your tight work pants with no pantie lines and be the only one who truly knows your secret?

“I kinda want to be caught someday by Him. I wonder what he would do. Would he tell me off for being unprofessional? Would he take me to that storage closet 3 doors past Garcia’s office, just far enough away that he could teach me a lesson for being naughty at work?”

He felt so dirty, inserting himself into the fantasies of a girl which he did not even know that he almost glanced across the use of Him, capital H.i.m. He wanted to indulge in his imagination that in some way or another that the “Him” in question was in fact the man reading this with trembling hands and an impossibly hard cock. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining situations in the storage closet that he regularly used as a reading nook when he needed time away from the others.

He rested his head on the pages of the book, hoping somehow that his dirty thoughts would be transplanted from his head and back into the pages so that he could stop thinking about you. His efforts were thwarted as this action meant that he could spoil himself in your scent that enveloped the book. As if you had wrapped it in the deepest most vulnerable part of you to hide it away from others. You smelled of bergamot, patchouli, and musk but deeper than that, you smelled like sweet, tart berries and honeysuckle in summer. There was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on at first but it was intoxicating all of his senses. It was saccharine, heat, and sex all combined in one. When it clicked, it no longer felt as if his head was pressed against a book but as if his he sat kneeling on the ground with his cheek resting in your inner thigh, your hot sex waiting for his indulgence, “like it's the only way to quench his thirst” echoed in his brain. The scent was your natural pheromones beckoning him closer with the promise of a treat.

And that was it. That was what sent him over the edge. The purest embodiment of your scent had him cumming, hot in his pants.

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

You sat down at the edge of your bed after a long day at work; shucking off your work clothes to get as comfy as you could in your PJs as a way to unwind from the day. You went to grab your lip balm from your bag and noticed that the front pocket of your bag had been left open. You instantly panicked, searching everywhere for your little red book. The one that kept the key to your deepest secrets and darkest fantasies. You tore your bag apart, knowing that you had it at the end of your workday because you took it out of your desk drawer and tucked it back into its home in your bag. You cursed your carelessness for not double-checking that you zipped your bag before leaving. With your forgetfulness, you knew it would happen one day but you didn't realize it would be this soon.

There was an odd mix in your heart and your stomach. Part of you felt your heart drop through your ass thinking that it had ended up in the wrong hands, part of you had butterflies thinking about someone knowing the deepest parts of you, intimately in your own words. You had the assurance that your name was nowhere to be seen in the book but you also knew that you worked with people who analyzed people's dark desires for a living. While none of your fantasies involved murder, they were like precious gems that you kept locked away in your heart. You couldn't dare imagine what would happen if it came into His hands. While you were the youngest at the BAU, only by a few months and you weren't even part of the group because you were still tentative, you couldn't put your dirty thoughts into the innocent head of the pretty boy genius. It was almost more worrisome than if SSA Hotchner or Gideon found it and you were fired. The idea of tainting someone so pure...

You had to literally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Imagining His face tinged red in innocence reading through your lewd writing had your head in a tizzy. Imagining Doctor Spencer Reid sifting through the pages with lightning-fast fingers, stroking down the pages of smut as you had imagined him stroking down your thighs so many times before. You decided to bury your head in your pillow, hoping that would calm your mind enough to slip into slumber.

Unfortunately for you both, your efforts would be fruitless and you would both go to sleep unknowingly thinking of each other.

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

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 here

And that's Chapter one. Hope y'all like it. LMK in my messages and all that <3 have a great week!

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #sub!spencer #mommy kink

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Afterglow

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Y/N

Summary: Without Ace, your nights are back to being long, dark, and empty. But when you finally reunite, Ace refuses to just be your Daylight.

Daylight - Part 1 | Afterglow - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k (my hands slipped, I’m so sorry)

Loosely based on: Taylor Swift’s Lover album (but mostly about the songs Daylight and Afterglow)

A/N: I really think Whitebeard is a great father, yk? So I see him as someone who you can always seek and rely on. He looks tough (and he’s actually tough), but he’s soft too! And Ace too, in that respect is similar to WB. I really believe he’ll be such a good boyfriend 🥺 Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this so much! Thank you to everyone who read this, I love yall 🥰

Sailing by yourself in a boat for one reminds you how vast the sea actually is. With the rowdy Whitebeard pirates, sometimes the sea, no, the world, seems a lot smaller, a lot more manageable, but alone, it feels so massive it’s almost frightening.

It’s easy to get lost, except there’s no such concept like that for someone like you who doesn’t have a destination to go to in mind. Quite simply, you’re wandering, but not lost.

You drift from one island to another. Your initial intention is to get as far away as possible from the crew. Now that that’s achieved, you’re unsure of what to do next.

You allow yourself to observe and to experience some sort of normalcy at the islands you dock at. It’s a good thing that you don’t really stand out so no one suspects you’re a wanted pirate.

Walking down the streets of random towns, you’re reminded of how lonely being a Celestial Dragon was. No one wants to interact with a World Noble, afraid of the consequences if they’re angered. Things changed drastically when you became a pirate though. People don’t shy away that much with pirates in certain places. They interact with you, albeit hesitantly sometimes. Nevertheless, you felt so free and happy.

Now, you’re still a pirate, as marked by Whitebeard’s infamous tattoo. But with the unsuspecting townspeople and the lack of the presence of a crew, you don’t feel like one. Somehow it makes you feel empty.

The void is immeasurable. Despite it being unbounded, you’re sure that a single person can fill that emptiness: Portgas D. Ace.

But there are oceans separating you from Ace— a distance that you put. With the space between you, there’s silence in your voyage, however, it’s quite mystifying how every island you reach seems to scream his name.

There’s an island where you’ve docked at that’s snowing all year long. It brought back memories of when you were fairly new to the Whitebeard Pirates and had landed on a similar island. Back then you’ve worn a coat as you disembarked Moby Dick, however, the cold continued to seep through your layers of clothing. You couldn’t handle extreme temperatures that well but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so you continued to walk alongside the crew to scout the area. The thing was you may have been terrible at hiding it because Ace noticed the way your body was shivering and your teeth chattering. You were only acquaintances back then but he went to your side and striked a conversation with you. You didn’t understand why you became comfortable when he approached you all of a sudden, but then later that night you realized that he used his devil fruit abilities to warm you up.

At one island with a bustling town, there’s this restaurant that serves a variety of meat. You’re reminded of Ace and his bottomless pit of a stomach, and of his narcoleptic episodes while eating. He has a tendency of eating and then running, and the first few times he did it with you had you reeling. When you’ve finally realized that he’s never going to change, you start to keep a pouch of gold coins with you, reserved for paying for the food he eats. You leave it on the table just as Ace pulls you to run, and he has no idea about it. Owners or servers at the restaurants would still follow you out, but not to berate the both of you for not paying but to return the extra gold coins because you pay too much. Like usual though, Ace pretends not to hear them and they never got to catch up with you and Ace.

On another island, there’s a huge wild boar thrice the size of a human. It reminded you of the time you got so excited to explore an island that you speedily ran towards the forest alone, only to be met by a wild boar. The size of the boar stunned you and its glare kept you frozen in fear. A loud scream escaped your lips when it lunged at you, except the impact never came. When you’ve gathered your bearings, the wild boar was dead and… cooked, courtesy of Ace’s devil fruit abilities. He saved you, but he played it off as if he had his eyes on the wild boar since the beginning “to hunt it down.”

The current island you’re at is in famine. As soon as you docked at their port, a group of men has drawn their swords at you. For a moment, you thought they were bounty hunters so you grabbed your daggers and took a defensive stance. However, from the way they keep looking back and forth to you and your boat, and from hearing the faint sound of their stomach grumbling, you can tell they aren’t. Behind some trees, you can see the heads of some children peeking with worried yet hopeful looks on their faces.

Slowly, you raise your hands up in surrender, dropping your daggers in the process. You can’t turn your back on them — figuratively and literally — so you walk backwards towards your boat. The men look at you curiously but they don’t ever lower their swords.

In a quick motion, you grab a bag containing all of your food supply and throw it at them. One of the men catches it. “You can have them. It isn’t much, but that’s all I have.”

The man who was able to catch the bag carefully opens it and sees food. He almost cries at the sight of it. The rest of the men lowers the sword after you offer no sign of aggression. They start calling the other citizens of the area afterwards.

The children are the first to come running towards the men — all of them conveying excitement. You couldn’t tell how long they haven’t eaten but judging from how thin they are, it has got to be quite some time.

A small girl stumbles and falls near you and you quickly come to her aid. There isn’t much damage, just a scraped knee so you carefully patched her up.

“Thank you,” she gives you a toothy smile and then starts heading to the men who are distributing the food.

She comes back a moment later, arms outstretched to hand an apple to you. “For you,” she says.

Something blossoms in your heart because of her sweetness. “Thank you, but it’s fine, you can have it,”

She doesn’t object but then she hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Surprisingly, even on an island like this, you’re reminded of Ace. You remember his story about coming to Wano and meeting a child named “Tama” who seemed to be as charming as the child you helped and is under the same fortune.

Now that your mind has drifted to thoughts of Ace, you didn’t want to think of anything else. Even as the people gather around you to offer their thanks, and even as they usher you to a bonfire to celebrate for the food to eat, the thoughts of him linger in your head.

And just like in all the previous islands you came to, you wish he’s here with you too.

There’s longing in your heart, but there’s also something else— something pleasant that you can’t quite describe— and you attribute it to the gratitude of the people.

The mother of the child you helped, Sito, offers their spare room for you to take and you graciously accept. Soft snores almost immediately fill your ears after a few minutes of them bidding you good night.

The longer you stay awake, however, the pleasant feeling you felt a while ago starts to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’ve always criticized yourself for not being able to do more when you were still a Celestial Dragon but now that you did something good, you start to feel selfish for doing it because it makes you feel better about yourself.

It’s at times like this that you seek Pops. There’s a sudden urge to hear his voice and his thoughts. So you grab your Den Den Mushi, but you hesitate.

You’ve lost track of the days since you left Moby Dick. And in that time frame, you never once called Pops. Although you didn’t really promise to call, maybe he was expecting you to, especially since you know he wouldn’t do it first.

You sigh. Maybe this call is long overdue after all.

You step outside the house and start to contact Pops using the Den Den Mushi. It only rings once and then it’s answered, almost as if Pops was waiting by the Den Den Mushi. The thought brings a smile to your face. “Pops—”

“Why on earth are you only calling now?!” His angry tone welcomes you.

“I’m so—”

“Is that Y/N?!” Marco interrupts. Ah, how could you have forgotten? It’s at this time that Marco reports to Pops. “We’re so worried about you -yoi!”

You can hear sounds of struggling on the line and then there’s a loud smack followed by an even louder crash. There’s a moment of silence which makes you wonder what’s going on in the ship.

“Why didn’t you call earlier?!” Pops’ voice booms. “If you’re going to leave a Den Den Mushi, I’m going to expect your reports but I received none of that.”

“I’m sorry Pops. I have no excuse,” you sheepishly say.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” he pauses but then his voice rings louder once again, “Some are even outside my room trying to listen in on our conversation. But if they know better, they should leave us alone.” The sound of rushing footsteps could be heard in the background as Pops finishes his sentence.

You chuckle, imagining the crew eavesdropping. “How are you Pops?”

“I’m doing fine.”

“How’s everyone? How’s… uhm… Ace?”

“Everyone’s just missing you. You didn’t say goodbye after all,” he says. “I put Ace on a mission because he won’t stop pestering me about you. He won’t come back in a couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“He misses you a lot,” he sighs. “He strides to me everyday to demand your whereabouts. Each time I wouldn’t tell him but he never learns. Vista says he’s on his 56th attempt the other day.”

The brief image of Ace that your mind comes up with brings a small smile to your face.

“When are you coming back?” Whitebeard breaks your reverie.

“Ah, I’m not sure yet… It might take a while.”

He hums. “So how are you? Have you been eating well?”

“I’m doing fine, Pops. No one’s been coming after me yet so everything’s going well,” you respond. “But… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s this island with people who haven’t eaten in so long so I gave them everything I have.” There’s a loud growl coming from Pops so you immediately continue your speech before he could scold you for doing such a thing. “I feel really good about what I did as they thanked me. But then the longer I thought about it, I started feeling ashamed because... wasn’t it selfish since I did it to make me feel better about myself? Then I started to wonder if it was wrong to do good things just because I wanted to be absolved of my parents’ sins. Was I wrong in doing this, Pops?”

“No, you did the right thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re not an inherently bad person for getting paid in gratitude.”

“But…”

“Making yourself happy by making other people happy is how it’s meant to work. If one of your key motives to doing good things is to feel good, then you’re still doing something good and there’s nothing shameful about that.”

Hearing his words puts you at ease. You’re glad you called him. “Thank you, Pops. I’m sorry for worrying everyone there and for disrupting Marco’s report. I promise I’ll call more often from now on.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Where will you be headed next?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just going where the sea leads me.”

“Be careful.”

“You too, Pops,” and with that, you bid your goodbye and hang up.

By morning, you start preparing your things to leave. You didn’t want to stay for too long because you didn’t want to consume even a portion of the small amount of food they have.

Sito offers you to stay another night, worried that it would be uncomfortable to sleep on a boat. “You can stay one more day. There’s still enough food for us to share.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose,” you decline. “But do you mind if I ask what happened here?”

There’s sadness in her eyes, it was easy to tell the memory pained her, but she tells you everything anyway. “This island is one of the few lawless areas in the world, hence, it’s a place where pirates would dock at. A group of men once docked here and kidnapped the leaders of our town. They were sold off to be slaves, because apparently the Nobles like to enslave people of power…” Her words start to fade on you upon the mention of the World Nobles.

Anger flares up in your system immediately. How low can the Celestial Dragons go? It’s sickening to think that you share the same blood as them. It’s because of this revelation that something becomes clear in your mind.

Ever since leaving Moby Dick, you’re just wandering aimlessly. But after hearing Sito talk about this island, you’re finally sure of what your destination should be.

Sabaody Archipelago.

Specifically, the Human Auctioning House.

From the sudden fury that overwhelms you, not even the fear of being within arm’s reach of the Marines, and possibly dying, could stop you from going there.

It’s reckless and foolish, but isn’t this the reason you left Moby Dick that night— to face your nightmares instead of running away from them?

You listen politely as Sito explains everything else but her words enter and leave your ears without you having to comprehend them. Fortunately, she doesn’t notice your inattentiveness, probably because she wants to pour her frustrations out to a stranger.

You offer your sympathies to her and promise her you’d come back with your crew and help them some more. It’s a simple promise yet for someone who hasn’t been offered help for so long, it means a lot, enough to even bring tears to her eyes. And just like that, you leave.

There are two more islands to stop at before you reach Sabaody Archipelago. You gather provisions on one island and buy explosives on the other.

The only thing you’re sure you can actually do alone is to blow up the Human Auctioning House. Facing the World Nobles is for another time, unfortunately. As for the Marines, well… You’d worry about that if they indeed come. You know you’d be able to handle them as long as they don’t send an Admiral after you.

The thing that worries you the most, however, is Pops’ reaction once you let him know of your plan. While you can always just not tell him, it feels wrong, and you promised you’d report to him, after all. And it’s hard for you to admit, but you secretly want to be saved in case your plan goes askew. That, and well, you still want to make up with Ace, may it be just strictly as friends, but preferably as lovers.

You decide to call once you’re about to set sail towards Sabaody Archipelago. You’re sitting in the middle of your boat, still anchored at the port when you told Pops your plan. And as expected, he’s mad.

He demands you to go back to the crew immediately. “Captain’s orders,” he says. But after a few moments, he retracts his words and says, “Your father’s orders.” You feel the weight of his words when he said that and you almost concede. But the faces of the slaves your family had flashes into your mind and it solidifies your decision.

Interestingly, despite the weeks you have spent away from the crew, their ship is nearer to you than anticipated. As confirmed by Pops himself when he angrily said, “Enough! I’m sending Ace to get you! Two or three days is enough for him to catch up with you.”

But quite frankly, that’s also enough time to execute your plan. And if the odds are in your favor, then Ace might just come in time for your escape.

Arriving at Sabaody Archipelago, you keep your face hidden underneath the hood of your cloak. It’s normal for pirates to walk around the place without having to hide their identities, but it’s a luxury you can’t afford. If someone catches wind that you’re here and reports it, the Cipher Pol just might come and capture you before you can even execute your plan. That just won’t do. So on the first day of your arrival, you only scout the area of the Human Auctioning House and retreat back to the inn you stay at.

You carry out your plan on the next day. You place a bomb where the side of the stage is supposed to be. It’s a distraction so people inside would leave the premises. The plan is to find the keys and free the slaves while the people are panicking from the explosion. Then eliminate the head of the place, Mr. Disco, and finally blow the place apart. It sounds simple but with you having to do all the work, you know it isn’t.

Now that you’re here, your nerves are spiking up. Arriving at the entrance of the building, you take a deep breath, your hand automatically reaching for the bracelet that Ace made you. It instantly calms you down.

It baffles you how fate works because on the very day you decide to free the slaves that are being sold off at the Human Auctioning House, Ace’s brother, Luffy — along with his crew — is at the same place to rescue their friend who was kidnapped.

Somehow even on a dangerous mission like this, there’s still something or someone who’d remind you of Ace. It makes you wonder: has he really embedded himself too deep into your life that there’s no escaping the thoughts of him? Not that you mind; the thoughts of him bring you peace, after all. But still, it’s fascinating that even in both mundane and dangerous settings, he makes himself known to you.

Upon entering the Human Auctioning House, everything happens so fast and unexpected. And quite frankly, a lot happened that wasn’t part of the plan.

Aside from finding the Straw Hat Pirates, you got yourself injured when you used your body to shield their fish man friend, Hatchi, from Saint Charlos’ gunshot. Then you confronted Saint Shalria personally despite you not planning to get involved with the Celestial Dragons. As for the slaves, it was the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh, who actually freed them. The only things that you personally executed from your plan were Mr. Disco’s elimination and the bombing of the Human Auctioning House.

Escape is easy once the building starts to explode because the Marines would have to lessen the forces who're chasing after the pirates in order for them to successfully put out the fire. Without any Admiral on the scene yet, it’s not hard to slip away from them and/or fight them.

Even with the gunshot wound on your arm, you’re able to take down each and every one of the Marines who are chasing you. But halfway through your journey back to the grove where you left your boat at, you lose your adrenaline.

You start to feel the sharp and stinging sensation on your arm once again, yet, you couldn’t help but smile. You have gotten out alive. The slaves have been freed. With both Mr. Disco and the building gone, the Human Auctioning House will no longer be operational, or at least not yet until someone steps up. But that won’t be after a long time.

It’s a wonderful day.

You look up at the afterglow of the sunset with a serene smile. You have a feeling your nights are going to feel shorter now and less frightening than they were before.

Your peaceful moment is cut off by someone rather abruptly. You jump in surprise as someone wraps their arms around you from behind all of a sudden. “I finally caught up with you.”

Your breath hitches at the sound of the voice. “Ace? What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer your question, but he mumbles, “I’m sorry if I only came now. Pops wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I came as soon as I could.” Then he tightens his hug. “I was so scared, I thought I’d lose you…”

“Ace, I’m sorry about—”

“Hey, it’s on me, okay?” He interrupts. “I blew things out of proportion, and now you’re blue.”

You pull away from his hug to face him.

“Y-your arm! You’re bl-bleeding,” he stutters after seeing your injury.

But you pay no mind to that. “Ace… I’m really sorry about us—”

“Ssshhh, baby…” he rubs his hand on your back.

He looks at your figure carefully, focused on looking for any more bruises or wounds. When he doesn’t find anything more, he gently holds you by your waist. “Don’t blame yourself, I’m the one who burned us down, but… it’s not what I meant.

“It was all in my head, okay? It’s just that the Celestial Dragons are all grouped in my head as scums and that they’re inexcusable because… my brother was killed by a Celestial Dragon.”

A wave of guilt flows through your body, enough to weaken your knees. Before you could fall, however, Ace catches you and brings you to his chest. But this doesn’t stop you from sobbing on his chest. “I didn’t know, Ace. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s the thing, baby. It isn’t your fault. It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger. And… I have to admit I failed to see that at first,” he says as he hugs you tighter. “I shouldn’t have stood there frozen after you told me your story. I’m supposed to be the one who understands you...

“I’m not trying to make excuses and I’m not trying to make this about me but it’s just that… for so long I thought that I inherited the bad blood of my father, and I spent my lifetime failing to see that his sins aren’t my sins,” his voice cracks as he cries. “So when I found out about you… My mind automatically held you liable for the sins of the Nobles…

“But I talked to Pops and he straightened me up. I understand now. Our parents’ sins aren’t ours. It never was ours to begin with. So I’m sorry for blaming you for something you didn’t do…”

Ace stares at your crying form. He cups your face and sincerely says, “It’s so excruciating to see you low,” as he wipes the tears on your eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you…”

“It’s fine Ace, I forgive you. But…” You look directly into his eyes. “I’m at fault too,” you confess. “I was the one who left... I was so used to living like an island and isolating myself that it didn’t occur to me that I was punishing you with silence… I should’ve waited patiently for you but I ran away…”

Ace rubs your back gently and presses his forehead against yours, “I forgive you too.”

You smile in relief.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Ace tilts his head. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you said that you saw daylight after sleeping in a long, dark night?”

You give him a curious look but nodded anyway.

“Beside wishing that I was there for you sooner, it had me thinking...”

“What?”

“Uhm… The world is terrible and cruel, and no one can ever really stop the dark nights from coming.”

You frown. You don’t really understand what Ace is trying to say.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he rubs his neck while his cheeks starts to blush, “if you ever have to go through those dark nights, I wouldn’t want you to wait for daylight.

“I want to be there with you on those nights until they’re over. I don’t want to leave you when things get rough and only show up when you’re better. I know you see me as your daylight but I don’t want to be just that.”

His words warm your heart, and makes it skip a beat. “You know, Ace, there are remnants of light that linger in the sky even when the sun has long gone down and the night starts. It’s the afterglow,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but that goes away too after a while,” he frowns.

“Well, lucky for you the moon reflects the sun’s light during the night, huh?”

He grins. “Yeah, yeah. I like that. I want to be your source of light, may it be the daylight, moonlight, or the afterglow.”

A moment of silence engulfs the both of you. Under the soft afterglow of the sunset with your arms wrapped around each other, you feel at peace.

Once upon a time, you used to believe love is black and white— that it’s straightforward. It was either you love Ace or you don’t, there were no gray areas. No matter what he feels, says, or does, your love for him never ceases.

But then some other days you believed that love is burning red— that it’s full of passion, lust, and romance, much like the nights you spent entangled in the sheets with Ace.

However, right now in Ace’s arms, all you could ever think about is that love is golden. It was warmth and comfort, like what daylight brings. It was contentment and serenity too, much like the feeling of lightness one gets when seeing the afterglow of the sunset. Either way, it’s Ace who makes you feel those.

No matter what color love actually is though, for you it’s always embodied by Ace.

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Sonic Boom - S3E1

Episode title: Friendship 101

Word count: about 3000 words

Author’s Note: I’m trying a rather new format for this fic, since it’s based on a TV show with various songs and camera angles. If you have any comments about whether it works well or not, please let me know!

(Also, the theme song choice is all thanks to khinesthetic, who used it here and inspired me to put it in this fic.)

[cue Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (0:00-3:45)]

[The show opens on a zoomed-out view of Hedgehog Village from above. Stone walls separate the village from the wilderness outside. There are large spaces at several points throughout the structure for entry and exit. A large patch of grass with benches scattered about sits at one end of the village, and a marketplace made up of wood-and-cloth stalls runs along one of the walls. Houses are grouped in seemingly random clusters throughout the town, and the (in)famous Meh Burger stand sits all on its own, with picnic tables spread across its wooden flooring. As the music progresses, the camera begins to zoom in on the village- then on one of the streets in particular- and rotates down to eye level to face…]

Sonic the Hedgehog walked through the streets of Hedgehog Village with a bounce in his step, occasionally dancing to the music playing through his earbuds. As he wandered throughout the town, he passed the usual people running their stores, arguing over botched orders at Meh Burger, and, at one point, Aqua the Rabbit absolutely freaking out over the loss of a single follower on Angstagram (the latest social media network for moody teens).

He did a 360-degree spin before winking and pointing finger guns at Amy Rose when he spotted her haggling with the local grocery store owner. She paused briefly to wave at him with a smile. “Hi, Sonic!” she called, completely ignoring the irritated fennec in the process.

Then, the music froze and changed to something extremely ominous as she turned around to face the shopkeeper once more. A dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her signature hammer. “Now then, about those prices you’ve been setting lately…”

The song cut back in as the view switched back to Sonic, who was now moving away from the scene at a slightly faster pace.

Really, though, he was more than happy to see his other friends not long after. Knuckles and Sticks were currently busy rummaging through the town’s garbage together, excitedly chatting about the latest piece of interesting junk they’d found, while Tails was fixing someone’s broken rain gutter (and attempting to ‘improve’ it in the process, which meant that it could now measure the amount and intensity of rainfall in a storm- a very useful, though unfortunately unwanted improvement).

Surprisingly enough, as he continued on his way through Hedgehog Village, he managed to get people from a few different places to wave back at him when he said hello. Although perhaps it wasn’t quite so surprising when one considered that this was one of the most cliched opening sequences that could possibly happen in any movie or TV show. Ever.

And of course, the only logical outcome of this scene led to everyone beginning to stop their usual activities and gather in one of the few open spaces in the town, clearly prepared to break into a fantastic musical dance number straight out of Broadway. Incredibly, this was one of the few moments in which everyone in the village seemed to be able to get along…

...until Eggman’s latest giant robot slammed feet-first into the ground, sending everyone off-kilter and scrambling for cover. Shrieks of panic rose in place of the music as the villagers fled the scene to hide in their houses. The dramatic entrance didn’t just ruin the mood, it absolutely crushed it with the sheer force of its impact.

And that was, obviously, when the show really began.

[cue In Your Face by Shockwave Sound (0:00-1:04)]

[Each of the five members of Team Sonic appears on a black screen with their name spelled out in their signature colors (blue, yellow, red, pink, and green) and does a couple of cool fighting moves, followed by snippets of scenes featuring them from previous episodes of the show for about eight seconds each. All five of them then appear together in their usual fighting stances, emphasizing their status as a team.

The Eggman logo then appears in an ominous, glowing red, backlighting the doctor himself and all his creations- before the lights flick on to reveal him alone in his evil lair with a green screen behind him, at which point he shrieks and covers the camera with a hand. Then, neon blue electronic lines begin to appear across the screen and the camera spirals to follow them, selecting one particular line to trace. Not long after, said line ends at a circle which, with a flash, turns into the words ‘Sonic Boom’. Beneath the title, it says ‘Ancient Secrets’ in neon blue.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “Friendship 101”- appears for a few seconds in the same color before the show itself returns.]

Sonic scrambled to his feet and zipped over to Tails, pulling him up from where he’d fallen after the robot’s overdramatic arrival. Amy managed to do the same with both Knuckles and Sticks simultaneously, which let Sonic stare for a moment, startled, and then promptly resolve to remember not to get on her bad side anytime soon.

Soon enough, the team had scrambled into their usual positions, ready to fight. Amy and Sticks kicked the battle off by handling the various smaller robots that threatened to get too close to their team, never faltering (and in fact seeming a bit gleeful in the badger’s case) despite the sheer number of enemies. Knuckles, meanwhile, launched Sonic bodily into the air for Tails to catch, before picking up a boulder about the size of a house and lobbing it directly at the robot’s chest.

“Hey! Easy with the boulders- QuakeBot took a lot of effort to make, you know!” Eggman shrieked from above, hovering in the relative safety of his Eggmobile.

(Relative, in this case, was of course in comparison to mixing absurdly volatile chemicals in a lab, bothering Shadow at any and/or all hours of the day, or being on Tails’s bad side when the fox had a glue gun. The doctor still remembered that situation all too well, and currently ranked it as far more terrifying than merely being punted into the stratosphere by kids under half his height and about a third his age.)

Sonic paused to stare at Eggman from where he was currently dangling in the air. A smirk began to spread slowly across his face. “…what did you just call it?”

“You heard me the first time!” the doctor roared, now incredibly embarrassed. “I named it that since it makes the ground shake when it moves, like an earthquake??”

General laughter came from the heroes assembled on the ground and in the sky.

“Argh! Nobody appreciates my genius around here! Now, QuakeBot, stop standing around and start attacking!”

“I suggested TerraBot, since it still has to do with earth and is a play on the word ‘terror’, but nobody ever listens to my ideas, now do they?” Orbot muttered irritably to himself, tucked inside the Eggmobile.

“I listen to all your ideas!” Cubot offered encouragingly.

Orbot’s mouth shifted into a small smile. “Thanks, Cubot.”

Meanwhile, Sonic had been pulled into a spin by Tails, who whirled the hedgehog around before letting him shoot downwards toward the robot in a spin dash- only for him to get caught and sent flying into the nearest house.

He shook off the surprise quickly (and apparently sustained absolutely zero damage despite having literally crashed through a house, because superpowered teenagers), darting back over to the group. “Well, uh, guess it’s time for Plan B then!”

Crickets chirped in the ensuing silence. Even the robot had stopped moving to hear what he had to say.

“And the plan is…?” Amy prompted.

Sonic folded his arms with a huff. “I dunno, I thought you guys would have one!?”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes at that.

Tails piped up. “I have an idea! Sonic, you’re going to need to be curled up for this, okay?”

The hero promptly did just that, before emitting a muffled “mmhmm?” from inside his layers of quills.

“Alright then, Amy, I need you to hit Sonic with your hammer right at the side of this house.”

Sonic’s blood ran cold. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second can we maybe rethink thiaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He ricocheted all over the palace like a pinball, slamming into several key points of the robot thanks to Tails’s rapid calculations. However, the robot was sadly unaffected by his screaming at a pitch that came dangerously close to shattering glass.

The robot was easily disabled and the attack overall quickly repelled after that. Thankfully, it took Sonic only a moment to recover from his impromptu stint as an out-of-control projectile and get back to fighting with the others…complete with a “Let’s do that AGAIN!” moment, which was met with a resounding no from both Amy and Tails.

Their ears were both still rather sore from last time, after all.

After Eggman was punted all the way back to his island by a well-placed kick from Sticks, though, the crew was about to head over to Meh Burger for a post-battle meal when they discovered that they had an entirely different problem to take care of. The villagers, who were beginning to come out of hiding after the attack, were furious upon seeing the damage dealt to their homes and stores.

“How could you let this happen?” one shouted.

Before long, the villagers found themselves a more specific target when the owner of the house that Sonic had smashed into pointed her finger directly in his face. “This mess is awful!” she cried. “And it’s all his fault!”

Within seconds, a mob of people had descended upon the overtaxed teen.

“I’ve never known a hero so irresponsible.” one fumed.

“How dare you!” the fennec from earlier roared.

The elderly wolf of the village shook her cane at him. “Shame on you!”

Sonic could feel himself beginning to tense up as the villagers turned their ire on him. Whether or not he’d admit it to anyone, he needed two main things in order to be his usual heroic, cheerful self: open space and positive reinforcement. Right now, he was getting exactly the opposite of both of those.

And he was not feeling good about it.

He looked briefly over to his friends for help, but Sticks had already vanished, Knuckles and Tails looked more nervous than anything, and Amy was already walking towards him with that look in her eye…

“Sonic, next time you do need to work on making sure the robot doesn’t catch you, you know-”

A streak of blue shot out of the village, leaving nothing but a scorched trail of grass and the snap of a sonic boom behind.

Sonic didn’t slow down until he reached the mountains- which technically wasn’t very far from the town at all, so he ran quite a bit more after that until he ended up in the middle of the jungle. Then, he sat down with his back to a tree and his arms around his knees, feeling very unheroic and overall pretty lame.

The blue hedgehog frowned at the dirt. Honestly, some days it really did feel like nobody seemed to like him. The only person who ever even suggested he was important on a regular basis was Tails, and Sonic didn’t blame him at all for not jumping into the middle of that crowd. Tails was only thirteen to his seventeen and a half years old- not exactly an age when he should be expected to go toe-to-toe with a crowd of angry adults.

Still, though. When being a hero got him all risk (no matter how low) and no reward...it was difficult for him to keep hold of that core feeling of “I can make the world a better place to live in!”, which, despite all his other claims, was truly at the center of what had motivated him to start fighting against Eggman so long ago…

[The scene morphs in a manner which shows the lighting shifting so that the sun is overhead. A sound effect of birds chirping plays over the scene change. This implies that it’s been several hours since he first fled the village.]

Sonic was still lost in thought when the snap of a twig in the bushes made him jump to his feet in surprise. The surrounding vegetation rustled ominously for a moment...only to reveal the four members of his team in front of him. He watched them all cautiously, his expression tense. More than anything, he looked ready to run at a moment’s notice- something which only served to make his friends(?) seem a little more distressed. “Uh…hey, guys?” he began tentatively.

“Sonic, I…” Amy began forcefully, before stopping herself. At first, it looked like she was about to scold him again, but then suddenly her face fell. “Listen, Sonic, we’ve all been talking a lot about what happened back at the village…and there’s something I want to say.” She gave a slightly tired sigh.

“I know we usually like to make jokes and witty commentary, but...sometimes, the world’s just a difficult place to be in.” she said. “...so we really do need to talk about serious stuff occasionally, even though I know it’s tough for you to even mention how you’re feeling. Unless, you know, it’s ‘great!’ or ‘cool!’ or something like that.”

Sonic cringed at the mere idea, looking more and more like he thought running away was the preferable option here.

“So what I wanted to say was that in a world where there are too many people trying to beat you down...what I was trying to do was tell you how to be more tolerant, because I thought that would help. I figured you can’t change how other people are going to be, just yourself, so I hoped that might make things better.

“But...I’m not actually a licensed therapist- yet, anyway. So I might have been wrong on how I went about that. Maybe...instead of telling you off for not being able to stop all those people...in the future I’ll pull out my hammer and tell them to knock it off already. Does that sound better to you?” she asked.

The blue hedgehog froze. “Ames…I...” he croaked, trying his best not to think about why exactly it felt like his throat was so tight all of a sudden.

Sticks folded her arms. “I like that plan! Those people are way too crazy sometimes…and you guys know I have a verrrrry high tolerance for crazy.”

“We can make the villagers quit bugging you together, just like how we fight Eggman!” Knuckles added encouragingly. “It’s always better that way, isn’t it?”

There was still one person who hadn’t spoken yet, though.

Suddenly, Tails crashed full-force into Sonic, squeezing him in a hug that for once he didn’t pretend to hate. “You know I’ve always, always, always got your back, right, Sonic? No matter what?” he asked, looking up at his older brother. “Even if I don’t always know how to do it right.”

The blue hedgehog simply nodded, not trusting his voice to help him maintain his ‘cool guy’ status.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it now, though.” the fox added understandingly, stepping back but still leaving a hand on his arm.

“But!” Knuckles added. “We won’t tell anyone if you ever decide you do need to get some stress off your chest every once in a while!” He smacked his own chest with a fist for emphasis.

“Nobody needs to know.” Sticks growled, the camera suddenly showing a dramatic angle of her face as the lighting dropped noticeably.

“Uh…that’s kinda dark.” Sonic said, holding up a finger with a bit of a confused frown, which let the lighting and camera angle zip back to normal.

“Anyway!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together, turning to face the group as a whole. “What do you guys think about heading over to my house and watching some movies? I’ll even…” She sighed, her whole body slumping. “…make some messy, simple, unprofessional chili dogs. In my state-of-the art kitchen. I know Sonic probably could use a pick-me-up right now, after all.”

“Thanks, Ames! You’re the best!” the hedgehog in question said cheerfully, the promise of good food and great companionship boosting his mood significantly.

Then, his posture shifted once again into something a little more vulnerable. “And thanks to all you guys. For, y’know, everything.”

“Of course!” Amy chirped.

Tails smiled at him. “No problem, Sonic.”

Sticks folded her arms. “That’s what a team’s for, ain’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Knuckles said, in that rather confusing manner where nobody was actually sure if he understood anything about what had just happened.

The echidna actually walked over to Sonic after that particular declaration, though, placing a hand on his shoulder as his face became uncharacteristically serious for a second. “Really, Sonic, we can all help you out, alright? Nobody gets to yell at our leader without getting yelled at back!” he declared, punching a fist into his other hand.

The hedgehog blinked twice before looking up at his friend. “You…just called me the leader?”

“Well, duh! That’s why everyone calls it Team Sonic, right?” Knuckles asked with a smile, letting an awkward (but genuine) grin spread across Sonic’s face.

Within seconds, the hero found himself squeezed in a big hug from all sides by his friends- and then actually lifted off the floor through a joint effort from Knuckles and Amy.

“Guys- come on! I can’t even move here!” he cried out, his legs flailing so quickly they made a vibrating noise in the air. “Guyyyyssss….” he whined, though nobody seemed to care much about his halfhearted complaints (judging by the happy expressions on their faces).

Then, the episode began to end, as evidenced by an iris out transition. The slowly shrinking circle paused for a moment on Sonic’s current expression, highlighting it against the otherwise black screen. He now sported a sheepish, if slightly pleased smile, complete with a faint pink blush on his face from all the positive attention.

Clearly Sonic liked being, well, liked far more than he let on.

Then, the circle snapped closed with a pop, and the credits began to roll.

[Voice Actors:

Roger Craig Smith

Colleen Villard

Travis Willingham

Cindy Robinson

Nika Futterman

Mike Pollock

Kirk Thornton

Wally Wingert

Bill Freiberger

Original creation by:

Evan Baily

Donna Friedman Meir

Sandrine Nguyen

Bill Freiberger

Takashi Iizuka

Writer/editor:

Solalunar “Sol” Eclipse

Thank you for watching reading.]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #i really really hope this new format was a good idea #i just had some very clear ideas about this fic that couldn't be expressed in the usual medium of character actions and dialogue #because sonic boom is very different from the sonic games and often uses camera and music-based references #(i may not roll credits every time though- just thought i'd give it a shot haha)#anyway!#i also wanted to ask: is there a particular way people would like me to use for replying to the wonderful comments i get in the tags?#because i want to let the people who take the time to leave comments know how much i appreciate it #but i'm not sure how to go about that #any suggestions?#and finally:#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him #as always #thanks so much for reading!#:D #sol's fanfiction

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fermented-writers-block · 3 years

Text

Lus and the Human Portal Clone Theory

Even before Keeping Up A-fear-ances aired, I have been working for almost a year now on running through all the possible various suspects with wonderful folks like @sepublic , @anistarrose , and @elementalist-kdj . Like the post title indicates, from sheer process of elimination, the only conclusion that made sense to me was a clone made of Luz by the portal door, and I’ve been working on refining and reworking said conclusion up to the version I will lay out here.

Now, as @safetayy , @theowlhouseheadcanons , and @50shades-of-blue have heard from me before, the portal I've long suspected was not made to go from the Demon Realm to the Human Realm, but rather to go from the Human Realm to the Demon Realm by humans, for humans. This is because it then could tie into the hypothetical existence of a Luz clone without having the issue of asking where Eda, Lilith, and King's clones are, as the clone in this case is the result of a function of the door to create a basic level duplicate of any human that passes through it rather than it happening for just anyone that passes through.

With this, it's because the suitcase form of the portal looks as thought it indicates it was used for temporary trips to the Demon Realm, much like how suitcases were used when railways and international boats made travel more accessible for the middle and lower classes. For example:

Going by the way the door “faces” and the way it swings open, the ergonomics of the portal makes it look an awful lot like a right handed out swing door, with the Human Realm on the “inside” and the Demon Realm on the “outside.” And the arrow in the diagram depicts the general direction of traffic that such right handed, out swing doors are typically design with in mind - ergo, showing what way the portal appears to facilitate travel in.

Now, before you ask, the reason why I think the portal could have been created in the human realm in the first place is that it might require an extra component/bit of help or two from the Owl Deity which I’ve discussed before in the past as hinted by these connected designs:

I’ll explore how I feel the revelation that such a twist about the portal’s origins could play into the themes and narrative of the show under the cut, but overall, I feel these are potential significant details to keep in mind for the rest of this arc of building a new door and handling the idea of Lus having initially been made as a temporary-duration clone, hence how "Luz" comes off so uncannily in the letters as she wasn't meant for long term impersonations.

That, and why I named this the Human Portal Clone theory, for those wondering about the name.

Alongside this, my thought has been that walking back through the portal to the Human Realm basically makes the portal send a recall signal to tell the clone to return to it, where the clone would be reabsorbed into the portal and its memories are given to the original. However, with Luz going back into the Demon Realm for a brief time in YBOS, I am of the mind that it doesn’t just make another clone, but rather that doing so merely made the door turn off the recall signal and allowed "Lus" to resume the impersonation.

And as for the clone itself and why they’re writing letters to Camila, well, imagine it from Lus' perspective. To her at the time of creation, the last thing she probably knew was that she had been chasing the cute little owl that took her Azura book into the woods, and right when the bus to Reality Check Camp was about to arrive.

Also, if you think about it, Lus being the work of someone we/don’t know yet raises way more plot threads/questions than answers compared to being the work of the portal, as outlined below:

TLDR at end of post for those wondering

Belos? How and why before YBOS where he actually started paying attention to Luz for the first time and actually got his hands on a portal?

Eda? Why would she do all this and not tell Luz she can goof around without needing to worry about her mom or the camp/in time to fool the camp, especially when it took a good amount of time for Eda to even start feeling that close to Luz?

Hooty got ruled out from the getgo since he can’t hold pencils, King just isn’t that subtle, and everyone else that Luz knows has the major issues of just straight up not knowing about the camp in the first place. Well, that and a lack of another known method of getting to the Human Realm in the first place.

The camp? Why would they worry about a missing camper whose disappearance is all HER fault and thus would more logically result in a call to her parent than some convoluted clone conspiracy?

And finally, some currently completely unknown third party?

If we’re talking a Changeling, A) it’d be easy for Luz to dismiss them and B) that just makes all the ominous portrayal of Lus super straightforward instead of a subversion like is the show’s shtick.

If we’re talking dimensional counterparts, A) they have to REALLY have led a very similar life to Luz’s in order for there to be enough common ground for Luz to listen, and B) dimensional counterparts aren’t even a confirmed or likely thing that people cooked up from Episode 1 side characters influenced by Amity’s concept art.

And if we’re talking some complete surprise third party group or another, it doesn’t make sense to introduce a third party and their motives and plans to the show this late in when Belos is already taking up the bulk of it all.

Hell, if anything, the continued existence of the duplicate in of itself would indicate that the target of the conspiracy is none other than Camila Noceda than anything to do with Luz or Eda, especially with the complete lack of anyone taking advantage of Luz and or Eda.

From the getgo, Witches Before Wizards already hard-baked into the show the idea that Luz is NOT inherently special or anything into the foundations of the show from the getgo - ergo, Camila likely just is an absolutely regular human being, someone who has no justification for such a convoluted conspiracy to surround them.

That said, I believe that the idea of the portal having originated from the Human Realm could potentially play into some interesting stories to be had with Camila and Lus here, especially as the conspiracy board shot from the promo was confirmed by Dana to apparently be from S2A, not from the episodes past Yesterday’s Lie:

After all, with Luz searching the library for a way home this coming episodes, perhaps she might figure out something the next couple of episodes that allows her texts to send through, which would logically lead to the above picture. That, and Camila and Lus being confused by and trying to figure out what’s going on there.

I mean, the cabin in the woods likely has a very close connection to the portal and it’s origins given how closely tied the two structures seem to be, and as far as we can tell, Luz never mentioned the cabin in her videos to Camila, but if Lus tries to retrace her steps, that would be a natural vector to lead Camila to the cabin and thus allow us a chance to actually investigate it.

That said, all following the trail would do is lead her and Lus to a dead end at the abandoned cabin, where they would have nothing else to do except discuss their complicated relationship concerning Luz and twiddle their thumbs while waiting for Luz to finish things on her end - which while something I think would be interesting to see, I just don’t see how much of a way to keep them in the greater picture of the show without some kind of project or activity that the two of them could work together on on screen.

And that’s what leads me to a particular train of thought here, starting with the question of what if Luz FAILS to make a working portal over the course of S2A and such?

With the possible in-universe mystery over what the heck is going on with Lus, perhaps the cabin might hold some notes from the original last human owner - if not potentially the creator - of Eda’s portal as well as potentially some of the same materials and such from previous trips.

Cue CAMILA building a working portal, following in the footsteps of the original creator and such and thus finding a reason to stay on screen, all the while potentially demonstrating both why Belos wanted the portal instead of making his own, as well as diving into the Owl Deity’s connection with the original portal. Heck, maybe the Owl Deity is only accessible in the Human Realm and that plays a part in Belos wanting to get to the Human Realm, which would bring Camila directly into contact with the magic her daughter has been interacting with.

Also, just imagine the internal conflict going on here with Lus. After all, helping Camila build a portal to get the original Luz -and hoo boy would that be a tough thing to grapple with- would most definitely do that and make both Lus AND Camila question how much the latter likes Lus vs Luz.

Like, just imagine it. There would be major chances for Lus and Camila to discuss what would happen if and when they’re finished with the portal, and what will happen to Lus’ relationship with Camila if and when Luz gets back.

Does Camila really prefer her daughter to be all more “normal” like Lus, or does she prefer the old, “weird” daughter from before the summer with Luz?

Perhaps she might be able to figure out how to strike a nuanced balance between the two, and all on a metaphorical journey to truly build a better connection between her and her daughter(s?).

TLDR: Or in short, I can’t help but feel it would be fitting to see Camila building a bridge WITH Lus TO Luz.

Particularly, by being the one to craft an actual working portal in the Human Realm instead of Luz in the Demon Realm, showing a parent putting in an active effort to get down to their child’s level rather than waiting for said child to try to get up to their parent’s level even if they can’t or find it incredibly hard to do so.

#the owl house #the owl house theory #owl house theory #toh theory #toh #owl deity hooty theory #camila noceda #lus #lus noceda #luz noceda #toh speculation #the owl house speculation

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peachyteez · 3 years

Text

angel nurse ≫ DAY(6) SIX, ARE YOU HAPPY?

this fox hybrid was brought into the recovery facility covered in scratches, whip marks, blood, and every other injury you could imagine. due to this, yeosang has trouble trusting humans, as he was afraid they could just hurt him all over again. until he meets jiyu, his “angel nurse”.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @peachseok

✧ notes: courtesy of a certain someone for the day6 reference :)

back。| next。

“yeosang, hello,” jiyu peeked in with a smile and wave. behind her were four other hybrids. they peeked out from behind her and made eye contact with the fox hybrid.

yeosang waved back, suddenly feeling wary again with the new presences in the room, even if they were his own kind. maybe i’m more shy than i thought...

“just like i promised, i brought these four babies with me today,” she teased, earning a ‘hey!’ from mingi.

yeosang now understood why jiyu wasn’t so worried for the bunny hybrid as other people were; the bunny was at least six feet tall, towering above the other predator hybrids. except for the golden–retriever, he seemed to be the same height.

seonghwa slowly approached yeosang and stared at him. he’s heard so much about this fox hybrid being his “twin”, now he wanted to see for himself.

yeosang, on the other hand, remembered jiyu’s comment from the previous day about him being similar to the wolf hybrid. just how similar were they for her to associate them with each other?

the two tilted their heads in the same direction as they observed each other. both of their eyes widened and they pointed to each other. “you’re me,” they both said, before slapping a hand over their mouths. they both seemed so fascinated, and slightly terrified, that they were mirroring each other right from the getgo.

hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and jiyu watched the scene in awe. jiyu didn’t realize they were that similar. “pfft—” they all stifled their laughter.

the other three could now understand why jiyu called yeosang his twin by just looking at him. the two possessed the same intimidating face but once they opened their mouths, they were just soft little kids on the inside.

“a–are you sure you guys weren’t separated at birth?” yunho asked, trying to suppress his chuckles feom spilling out.

“i’m an only child, i swear!” they both shouted before staring at each other in awe once again.

jiyu couldn’t hold it in anymore and she burst out into laughter that brought a smile to everyone’s faces. “o–oh my god, t–this is priceless!” she managed to squeeze out in between her laughter. “i–i knew you guys were similar to a certain extent...b–but this blows my expectations!”

yeosang shyly scratched the back of his neck and looekd away; his cheeks and the tips of his human ears flushed pink. seonghwa mirrored his expression as he turned towards jiyu.

“j–jeez, it’s not that funny,” he mumbled, seeing the other three trying to suppress their chuckles and snickers as well.

“‘i’m an only child!’” hongjoong mimicked as he chuckled. “seems like you and the fox hybrid are soulmates at the moment.”

jiyu calmed down and took a few breaths to stabilize herself. “anyways, yeosang. that’s seonghwa. the tiger hybrid is hongjoong, the golden–retriever is yunho, and the bunny is mingi. they’re all my little fur balls.”

‘d–did she call is fur balls?’ the four sweatdropped as the same thought ran through their minds.

“guys, this is yeosang. remember to be careful if you play with him since his wounds are still healing,” she reminded them.

yeosang quickly glanced at hongjoong. he was always curious about the tiger hybrid from seojin’s stories. by the looks of it, he seemed like he was indeed thriving; the genuine smile said it all. as a matter of fact, all of their smiles spoke for them.

“ji,” yeonjun called as he poked his head into the room. “can you help me sort these papers? i need to process them into the system but they’re all mixed,” he asked, carrying in a three, thick folders filled with various documents.

“jeez, who hated you enough to give you that?” she joked, yelping when yeonjun poked her side. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” she chuckled. “yeah, i’ll help you. come in here.” she cleared the table so they could work on re–organizing the documents.

yeosang observed her from his bed, almost forgetting the presence of the other four with them.

“what are you thinking about?” yunho asked, making the fox hybrid flinch at the sudden reminder than he wasn’t alone.

“n–nothing...just...she’s really nice,” he mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. “i was kind of mean to her the first few days but yet she still came back to talk to me.”

seonghwa nodded, stealing a quick glance at her as she flipped through the papers. “yeah...she didn’t give up on us either, no matter how violent or stubborn we were.”

“it’s her charm, though!” yunho piped up.

“yeah, but she’s too nice sometimes...she could end up helping the wrong people,” yeosang mindlessly mumbled. there were a lot of malicious people out there, there was always a possibility of it happening.

the four sweatdropped again as they remembered the various incidents of jiyu showing her “scary” side when it came to protecting the ones she loved; when she changed into a whole different person in front of yunho’s former owners, and when she tracked down mingi’s former owner and managed to retrieve his adoption forms.

“i–i don’t think we have to worry about that,” mingi sheepishly laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

yeosang didn’t question it. after all, he didn’t know her as well as they did.

“this might be an insensitive question,” hongjoong said from the window, “but where will you go after leaving here?”

yeosang grew silent at the question. truthfully, he didn’t even know himself. he could follow the facility protocol of having to be transferred to the adoption floor, and potentially finding a new family.

the only problem was...he couldn’t see himself with another family. it had taken him so long to trust jiyu, he didn’t want to imagine trying again with other people. he knew they’d grow impatient with his personality and just throw him out, heck, maybe even return him.

“...i’m not sure. probably just go with the flow and be put up for adoption.”

the four wordlessly glanced at each other. he didn’t sound convincing; rather, it sounded like he was convincing himself to go along with the facility protocol. seonghwa and hongjoong were in his shoes at one point.

seonghwa quietly sighed. “do you feel happy with jiyu?” he asked.

“...define happy,” yeosang mumbled, looking at each and every one of them. “is that how you all feel with her?”

yunho and mingi enthusiastically nodded. “she makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside!” mingi declared. “it’s a really good feeling. i could never imagine someone else adopting me.”

“that’s one way of putting it,” hongjoong chuckled at the bunny hybrid before looking at yeosang. “but yes, it’s a warm feeling. she provides us with everything we all lacked in our previous homes,” hongjoong said, quickly peeking in jiyu and yeonjun’s direction. “it’s like...you feel safe around her. like nothing could ever hurt you again.”

and yeosang wasn’t going to lie. he did feel that. he felt all the warmness and fuzziness thst mingi described, he felt safe like nothing would harm him again; but most of all, he felt cared for. he felt appreciated.

his old owners only appreciated him for his monetary value, but with jiyu, he felt a different type of appreciation. like she cared about him for him; the fox hybrid that was shy around others, the fox hybrid that loved drawing little made–up characters called hehetmon.

“i think he found his answer,” seonghwa chuckled.

“what was the point in asking me all that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “to test me?”

yunho shoved a paper up to his face, making yeosang flinch and fall back into the bed. d–did i just flinch from paper? that’s a new low for me.

“yunho! be careful!” hongjoong quietly scolded the puppy.

“oops...sorry,” yunho sheepishly apologized before handing yeosang the paper instead. “this was all of our ideas!” he smiled.

yeosang read the contents of the paper and he almost made his heart rate monitor go haywire from the emotions he felt. the four panicked at the sporatic beeping sounds.

jiyu and yeonjun’s heads snapped up at the sound, concern written across their face. “what’s the matter, yeosang?” she asked, hastily approaching him. recognizing the form in his hands, she lightly gasped.

“well, this is awkward...u–um, you weren’t supposed to see that yet—”

the four sheepishly looked to the ground. had they messed up?

“c–can i really?” yeosang quietly asked, his eyes never leaving the paper. “can–can i really go home with you?”

in his hands was yet again, another filled out adoption form.

seeing the form was the final push for him, the final piece of the puzzle. that he really did feel happy with jiyu. and that he was hesitant about being adopted by other people because he was so used to jiyu’s presence around him. like mingi had said, he couldn’t imagine being adopted by anyone else.

jiyu gently smiled. “i didn’t want to force it onto you so i never said anything,” she explained before putting a hand in his head. “but we all discussed about it two nights ago about bringing you home with us. although, after today,” she playfully glared at the four hybrids were peeking out from behind yeonjun, “i think they grew a little impatient about bringing the topic up.”

yeosang felt a rush of emotions. maybe fate really did feel bad for him and decided to not throw him under the bus. maybe fate really was nice, after all.

“i–if it’s not too much trouble,” he shyly mumbled, “th–then i accept your offer,” he said, a small smile spreading across his face. jiyu smiled back; this was the first time she’s seen him smile.

“seonghwa’s twin’s coming home!” hongjoong jokingly declared, patting seonghwa’s back. yunho and mingi cheered along.

seonghwa sighed, but no one could deny the smile he was trying to hide. “i’m not going to try.”

yeonjun looked back. “so how long am i going to be used as a shield?”

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kang yeosang #kang yeosang imagines #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez yeosang #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #ateez au

174 notes · View notes

x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc reader

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germanicseidr · 4 years

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Wodan

It has been more than a year since I published my post on Wodan. Just like with my post on the Batavi, I wanted to rewrite this post as well to include more information about this fascinating God and also add a bit of my own personal experiences with this deity. This group has gained thousands of members since last year so there are also quite a lot who have perhaps missed my previous post on Wodan. I also want to discuss the similarities and differences between Wodan/Odin and the moment when humans started to worship him.

Wodan is the chief God of the Germanic pantheon. He has countless of names in many languages, it would be truly fascinating to try and collect all of his names into one big list. He is the God of wisdom, knowledge, battle, magic, death, primal rage, healing, tricking humans and the runes. Most of our knowledge on Wodan is based on the eddas. Unfortunately the ancient Germanic people did not write anything down about him but we do have archeological evidence for his worship.

His name comes from the proto-Germanic word Wodanaz which means rage. This already provides us with a clue on how the early Germanic people viewed this deity. Interestingly, the Dutch word for rage is woede, derived from the old Dutch name for Wodan, Uuoden>Woen, Weda in old Frisian. The meaning of the word Wodanaz has not changed for the Dutch people in over 2000 years. This God personally holds a very special place in my heart. Through my work with seidr I have come into contact with him several times.

When did the Germanic people start to worship Wodan?

The first written mention of Wodan comes from Tacitus in 98AD. Tacitus describes several Germanic Gods but unfortunately he uses Latin names to describe them. The Romans compared Wodan with their own God Mercury. Why the Romans compared Wodan with Mercury also isn’t fully clear. Both Gods escort the dead and carry a staff but that is where their likeness ends. Curiously, the Romans compared their chief God, Jupiter, with Donar. This is perhaps a clue into the changing roles that Wodan played.

Just because this is the first written mention of him, doesn't mean that the worship of Wodan comes from this time period. The Germanic people didn't write anything down, their religion was passed down to the next generation by telling stories, it's an oral tradition so we still do not know how old Wodan exactly is.

We can look at archeological evidence as well. When do we first see images appearing that look similar to Wodan? I think most of you are familiar with the classic Odin/Wodan images found all over the Germanic world, from Norway to Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands from the Vendel period and early medieval era. But looking at these images provides us with another problem. How can we be absolutely sure that these images represent the same God? Maybe Wodan was portrayed completely different from how we know him now? Maybe a face of Wodan was carved on wood, similar to the wooden statues found in bogs dating back tot he bronze age? Maybe all the early depictions of Wodan have simply been lost in time.

There is however another theory that suggests that Wodan was introduced to the Germanic people by the Saami. One of Wodan's most defining traits is that he is able to wander across all the realms, speak to spirits and gain knowledge this way. Technically this makes Wodan a very experienced shaman. The Saami people were/are practitioners of shamanism. The Goddess Freyja taught Wodan how to practice seidr. Seidr is a mix of shamanism and witchcraft similiar to the shamanic practices of the Saami people.

Another theory suggests that a Saami shaman, called Wotan, simply became deified by the Germanic people. Perhaps he led a tribe to victory after leading them into battle. Another even wilder theory suggests that Wotan was a Celtic druid who was deified by the Germanic people. The only historic truth that can be verified is that the Germanic culture borrowed elements from both the Celtic and Saami people.

Wodan could also have been introduced to the North-western European people during the bronze age by the proto-indo Europeans. The proto-indo European language spread all across Europe and evolved into different languages, perhaps the same happened to their chief God, Dyeus, as well. Almost all Indo-European cultures have a (chief) God who is quite similiar per example, Zeus, Wodan, Perun, Tiwaz, Jupiter, Dagda, Dievas, Papaios, Brahma.

Even if you research all these possible topics deeply, it is still impossible to say when exactly Wodan was a known deity amongst the Germanic people. The Germanic culture developed during the late Bronze age and if you combine all these theories together, his possible origin could lie near the end of the Bronze age and the start of the Iron age. That would mean that the worship of Wodan began around between 1800BC-1300BC in modern day Denmark, northern Germany and North-eastern Netherlands, more than 2000 years before the viking age even began.

However most of the physical and written evidence for the worship of Wodan came from the early medieval ages until the middle medieval ages, the era between 400-1000AD. One example is a fibula found in Heiloo, the Netherlands. This fibula from 7th century Frisia depicts Wodan flanked by two wolves. There are also coins found in Frisia that depict Wodan. More of such fibula, amulets and coins have been found throughout Norway, Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands, England and Germany.

Written sources outside of the eddas that mention Wodan have also been discovered. This is the nine herbs charm which was written somewhere during the 10th century AD in England. Christianity was the official religion of the English people at that time but it seems that the common people would still fall back on the old Gods in times of need. Here is the charm:

“A snake came crawling, it bit a man. Then Woden took nine glory-twigs, Smote the serpent so that it flew into nine parts. There apple brought this pass against poison, That she nevermore would enter her house.”

There is also an Old English rune poem that basically explains the futhark. This is the stanza for the ansuz rune:

"god is the origin of all language wisdom's foundation and wise man’s comfort and to every hero blessing and hope" The word Ansuz/Os is used for God. Christians did not use this word to speak of their God so this rune is directly related to Wodan.

He is also mentioned in the Old English poem Maxims I:

"Woden worhte weos" Woden made idols.

The last written record that I want to mention is the German Merseburg charm which I have written about before:

"Phol and Woden travelled to the forest. Then was for Baldur's foal its foot wrenched. Then encharmed it Sindgund (and) Sunna her sister, then encharmed it Frija (and) Volla her sister, then encharmed it Woden, as he the best could,"

Wodan later became known as Odin in the early medieval Scandinavian world. Wodan and Odin are essentially the same deity but there are some differences between the two. These differences formed over time since Wodan is an older depiction of Odin. Here I tried to list the attributes of both Wodan and Odin in an attempt to show how the early Germanic people viewed Wodan compared to how the vikings viewed him.

Wodan: Skilled sorcerer, God of death, trickster of humans, God of knowledge, bringer of the runes, still has two eyes according to some sources, shaman, primal force of rage, leader of the wild hunt, God of war, God of healing, carries a staff and spear, two ravens, is a deceiver and was a feared God because of his ability to trick humans into death or madness.

Odin: Skilled in battle and magic, God of Knowledge, bringer of the runes, one-eyed, shaman, shapeshifter, dead fighters go to Walhalla to fight for him, God of war, owner of Sleipnir, carries a staff and spear, two ravens and two wolves guide him, more closely related to the Saami culture.

There are still some traditions left in Europe that are linked to Wodan/Odin. Since I am Dutch, I will explain some Dutch traditions: Sinterklaas, the old wanderer on his white horse who rides in the sky and gives presents to children. Midwinterhoorn blazen, the blowing of the midwinterhorn to announce the arrival of the wild hunt, the traditional start of winter. Hanging the placenta of a horse in an oak tree. Sint Maarten, the old wanderer on a horse who shared a piece of his cloak to a freezing stranger. And lastly possibly the game of paalzitten. If you know about other traditions from other countries that are linked to Wodan/Odin, feel free to share them in the comments.

Here are some of Wodan/Odin’s names in different (Germanic) languges:

Proto-Germanic: Wodanaz Old English: Woden Old Saxon: Wodan Old High German: Wuotan Old Frisian: Weda Old Norse: Óðinn Dutch: Wodan/Woen Old Dutch: Uuoden English: Odin Norwegian: Odin

Feel free to expand on this list in the comments.

The reason why I decided to rewrite and post this article today is because Sinterklaas has arrived again in the Netherlands. This was traditionally viewed as the start of the wild hunt led by Wodan. He would ride in the cold dark winter nights through the sky, trying to collect as many of the dead as possible. If you were unfortunate enough to see him in the sky, it meant that your life is soon ending and you would join Wodan’s hunt back to the underworld. In order to please the wild hunt, people left behind small offerings of food near the hearths of their homes. Carrots were left behind to feed Sleipnir. Until this very day, Dutch and Belgian children gift carrots to his horse in the tradition of Sinterklaas.

At last I want to share one of my own personal experiences with Wodan. As a child and teenager I was always searching for a spiritual home. My mother is a practitioner of witchcraft, a tradition which goes back for many generations in my family. I was raised with this practice of witchcraft but still I felt spiritually lost. That was until one day, on my birthday several years ago, I started to explore the older variant of witchcraft, shamanism.

During that first trance I met Wodan by surprise. His appearance was so unsettling that it caused me to experience a full blown panic attack and I was thrown out of my trance. I felt physically ill for two days until I returned into trance and stumbled upon Wodan once again. I was finally able to communicate with him and it turned out that he caused my panic attack because he likes pulling such tricks on humans, especially when he senses fear. We talked for a few minutes about knowledge until it was time for me to return to the mundane world. Before I left, he gave me a name in Proto-Germanic which I now use as my spiritual name.

Of course I was extremely skeptical about this whole experience afterwards. Was this just something I imagined? I was thinking about this for days at an end while at the same time I had the thought of placing a tattoo on my left arm with the word Wodan spelled out in the elder futhark. Eventually I decided to visit the local tattoo shop to make an appointment for this tattoo. Until my great surprise, the tattoo artist was not only a skilled artist, she is a professionally trained shaman of the native Canadian culture. She knew instantly that I was also dabbling in the art of shamanism and that I was in doubt whether it was actually real.

She then told me everything that Wodan had told me. Wodan , knowing that I am quite a skeptical person by nature, decided to inform another shaman in order to finally convince me that this was after all a real experience. She had to pass this information to me in order for me to finally believe in the old Germanic Gods. It’s interesting that Wodan decided to use a shaman from a completely different culture, showing that the practice of shamanism is at its core exactly the same all over the world. I got the tattoo as well. This first experience with Wodan led me to finally find my spiritual home and it started the quest for knowledge on the ancient Germanic culture. I eventually decided that it would be best to share as much knowledge as possible, the reason why I started this facebook group.

I am so sorry for this incredibly long post and I congratulate the ones who actually fully read it. In the future I also want to write more about Wodan/Odin’s role in the Germanic mythological lore, his work with the runes and his archetype.

Here are images of: A depiction of Wodan as a wanderer by Georg von Rosen, 1886, A depiction of Odin by Mary H Foster, 1901, A depiction of Wodan riding Sleipnir from a 18th century manuscript, Frisian Wodan fibula and coins, Sacrifices made to Wodan in the Netherlands around 300AD (human and horse remains, arrow heads and jewelry), The Merseburger charm, Wodan VS Sinterklaas,

#Wodan #Odin #Germanic #Nordic #God #Pagan #Deity

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Midnight”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I’d like to extend a formal congratulations to every Cinder fan in the community. Criticisms of the writing aside, you all struck gold with twelve whole minutes devoted to your fave and I’m absolutely thrilled for you.

We again start with a dark screen and some audio, in this case Cinder’s scrubbing. This technique—along with closeups on eyes—is a real favorite of RWBY’s this volume, to the point where I think they’re a little too enamored with it. But at least this is just a preference, not something that actively harms the storytelling in any way, so it’s welcome to stay. This time, unlike our premiere, we stay on Cinder as her life is summed up with three events intercut with one another: scrubbing floors, getting taunted by boys, and the sound of heels making their way towards her. It’s clear that Cinder leads a poor, miserable life, if her dirty clothes and stronger guys throwing her around is any indication, but all that changes when the rich woman says “I’ll take her” and Cinder is transported to a better life in a wealthy hotel.

At least supposedly.

Here’s my problem with the worldbuilding. This moment has Witcher vibes and Witcher, in turn, built itself off of a trope seen a hundred times before: A young woman is treated terribly by her family, is whisked away by a wealthy/powerful caretaker, and though her life has arguably improved, she quickly learns that the new world she’s entered is just as dangerous and harsh as the one she left. In Witcher’s case, Yennefer is a disabled woman abused by her family, bought by Tissaia, and taken to Aretuza where the other girls hate her and the curriculum is potentially deadly. Cinder is a poor woman arguably abused by her family (scrubbing)/the locals (fights), is taken by an unnamed woman, and whisked away to the swanky hotel where the daughters hate her and the work is potentially deadly due to shock collars. The difference between these two setups is that Tissaia bought Yennefer because of her magical potential. Why does our hotel lady take Cinder?

I mean yeah, obviously she wants a slave, but it’s a little weird isn’t it? Usually when a young woman falls headfirst into a new and questionable life, there’s a solid reason for her entry. This woman—whose lack of a name also says something about the worldbuilding—could have hired anyone she pleased to abuse. As we saw in regards to Atlas and Mantle in the past, every city has its poor and downtrodden. So what made her go out to some random farm and snatch Cinder up? It just, as always, feels a little too convenient. Cinder didn’t enter this life because something about her characterization or origin justified it, the plot simply ensured that she, out of everyone possible, and with very little reason, was the one chosen to follow The Plot™ .

It also messes with the Cinderella parallels. Originally (or “originally,” going off of Disney here which is likely what RWBY is using as a template too) it’s her step-family that abuses her and yes, we recreate that via the hiring (“hiring”—I doubt she was paid), but Cinder was already scrubbing floors back home. Her status as the servant already existed. So why change locations? Why not just keep Cinder as an abused farm girl, or have her a part of the hotel family right from the start? Part of the reason why Cinderella resonates is because of the contrast between the happy life with her father and the new, horrific life she falls into once he dies. Which is then further contrasted by the rest of the outside world. Fairy Godmother, Prince, and party-goers alike are all presented as kind, decent people. They represent the “real” world that Cinderella can escape to. By making Cinder’s original life horrible, her new life worse, and everyone connected with that life cruel and/or indifferent (with the exception of this one, special huntsmen)… you paint a very different picture of the world as a whole. Which is something RWBY has been vocal about trying to accomplish—it’s not a fairy tale—the only problem is with how these moments are undermined the second the story wants Ruby to ~Believe in People~. Cinderella is a story about enduring and eventually overcoming temporary hardship. Cinder’s story is about endless hardship that creates villains. A dark and fascinating story… but how does that fit into last week’s episode where Ruby told the whole world about Salem, expecting them to band together in peace and harmony? This is how Remnant’s world treats people when there’s not a global crisis, and Cinder isn’t even a faunus.

Which, I want to make clear going into the rest of this recap, does not excuse Cinder for her actions. At all. I think there are some complicated acknowledgements to be made in terms of her abuse and the Huntsmen’s responsibility in it continuing, but that does not give Cinder a blanket pass for all the horrific shit she has pulled over the years. Cinder didn’t just defend herself from abusers, she became one. More on that in a minute.

First though… is the Huntsmen’s name Rhodes? Did we hear that in the episode? If we did, I totally missed it because I have a note here about the one important character not getting a name. So yeah, idk. If we got this from more supplemental info, bad RWBY. If I missed it, bad Clyde. Either way, I’ll use that name going forward.

Back to the plot at hand. The hotel is, as said, populated by indifferent and shallow people and there’s no desert nearby, so I presume we’re supposed to be in Atlas? (Why did this woman buy a girl from another Kingdom?) There are customers getting drunk, flirting, and generally just enjoying their wealth, which harkens back to Weiss’ comment in Volume 4 about all their problems being superficial. We’re introduced to the owner’s two daughters who are, as expected, quintessential Mean Girls.

They love ordering Cinder around, not just with hotel chores, but personal ones as well like, “rub my feet”… despite the fact that this place is massive and must have an equally massive staff to stay in business. Why aren’t the girls terrorizing anyone else? Again, it makes sense for Cinder(ella) to be the focus of their abuse when she’s in a single household, but transplanting that to a hotel raises a lot of questions that RWBY hasn’t bothered to examine. You can’t move a story like that and not think about what further changes that would evoke.

See, RWBY could have done something interesting here by considering some of those other changes. Like having one or both step-sisters be the one to help free Cinder from her abuse, playing the villain before becoming the fairy godmother. Up until she turns villain instead of hero, this is just Cinderella’s story copy and pasted into RWBY. It’s moments like this that should make us wary of using fairy tale allusions as evidence for our readings and theories. Whether RWBY is deconstructing or upholding a story varies wildly, and we never know what we’ll get until we actually see it on screen. Even then we can’t count on a choice remaining consistent, as we saw with Ironwood’s deconstruction being tossed out the window in Volume 7.

Cinder is originally just as meek as her fairy tale counterpart too. We don’t hear her speak until the owner is about to leave when she simply goes, “Food?” The sisters laugh at her and a roll is thrown to the floor with the comment that she should get busy because it “looks filthy.” I quite like that moment. Your job is to ensure the floors are clean enough to eat off of—literally.

We see a montage of Cinder doing just that, lots of chores, with a new song listing all the tasks she’s now responsible for. During this, Rhodes is seen in the background and witnesses when Cinder (presumably) first uses her semblance by heating up the brush and chucking it at the sisters, creating a massive cloud of steam.

It’s that moment which “earns” her a shock session with her necklace and I’m staring at the screen, a little open-mouthed. I mean, that’s the second child torture we’ve seen this volume (with Cinder being ten here). Again, I’m not making a specific accusation, just going, “Really?”

Also, note the anti-faunus sign. Nothing like continually showing us racist establishments rather than actually writing a story that deals with the racism needless put into the story world. I’d like to remind everyone of my previous comments this Volume about how the story works hard to paint Mantle as sympathetic, but refuses to show anything that does the same for Atlas citizens, people who are in just as much danger with Salem as an equalizer. A whole city is not actually made up of shallow racists, the show is just showing us only those people to create a simplistic “They’re all bad” reading that encourages us to reject Atlas and, by extension, Ironwood. Weiss is walking proof that Atlas citizens are both complex individuals and capable of bettering themselves. If we can come to adore the Schnee heiress, we should be questioning why nearly every other citizen is painted as an abuser, too wealthy to care, or has conveniently left the story (Rhodes dead, Klein gone, Whitley rejected, etc.).

As Cinder is being tortured, we see that she’s forced to say, “Without you, I am nothing.” Now see, this is excellent... in theory. This is the kind of line we needed to hear with some consistency over the last seven years (if RWBY still insisted on waiting that long for a backstory), setting up that this line is clearly engrained in Cinder and she repeats it on instinct. Instead—to my recollection, anyway—we only get it this Volume, in two episodes. If it appeared before then it wasn’t notable enough to remember. I commented on this before, but it wasn’t a, “Ah, this line must be important” reaction, it was a “Lol why is RWBY using the same line twice? That’s weird.” By only giving it to us twice before the backstory and in such a short timeframe, the impact of this reveal is lost. We’re only now realizing that the line is important, rather than coming to realize why.

Our writers know just enough to recognize what techniques work, but not enough to have figured out what makes them tick. They get that providing a RWBY-vised version of Cinderella is cool, but not how to adapt that 100% successfully. They know that repeated lines have power, but not how to create good setup for the reveal. They know the camera should use closeups, but not what moments are important enough to warrant that. RWBY, eight years on, still feels like a newbie writer copying what the great stories are doing without yet understanding why those aspects work and, thus, how to recreate them.

I mean, Cinder’s backstory appearing now attests to that most obviously. I waved at the Cinder fans before, but the reality is that most viewers don’t care, either because Cinder herself is so bland, and/or because the story waited too long to make her a little more interesting. This entire flashback was handled badly simply by virtue of it arriving over seven years past the character’s introduction.

So after this torture session Cinder steals Rhode’s sword. We hear some dialogue in the background of him getting pissed that it’s missing and the sisters promising to find it, implying that Cinder will have this tool at her disposal for a while. Instead, seconds later he’s found her hideout and confronts her. I don’t know if I’m impressed with Rhode’s skills, or rolling my eyes at how contrived this all is. Chuck in the question of whether Cinder was talented enough to steal the sword out from under him, or if Rhodes was stupid enough to leave it lying around, and I’m edging towards the eye rolling.

He dodges Cinder’s attack, rolls her more weapons to prove he’s not here to hurt her, and acknowledges that she’s not getting “the most fair treatment.” Okay, here’s where things start to get complicated. Rhodes tells Cinder she shouldn’t run away because then she’ll be running her whole life (don’t really agree with that). He likewise (rightly imo) tells her not to straight up murder them because look, no matter how much of a shit stain someone is, I can’t condone slamming a sword through their chest on an individual’s say-so (especially when two of those people are also kids growing up under an abuser, like Whitely). So what’s left? Rhodes says Cinder can train to become a huntress. At ten years old, she has seven years to prepare for the exam.

But she has to stay with her abusive family until then.

My problem is far less with the claim that this “has” to happen and far more with the writing’s failure to tell us why. Cinder could have begged to come with Rhodes and he says she can’t because… idk. Make up a reason. He doesn’t make enough to feed the both of them. It would be too dangerous out on missions without training and he doesn’t have a permanent place to stay (hence using the hotel all the time). He could even go the “They’re your legal guardians” route with more explanation because it’s arguable that Rhodes had no idea about the collar. Doesn’t mean Cinder’s treatment isn’t “that bad” in his eyes, just that he might not have known the extent and thus thought it was preferable for Cinder to put up with “just” being insulted and overworked until she’s 17. That this life that he only has a partial picture of is preferable to the life she’d have at his side. Something to explain the stakes here, the risks, and why he took this stance.

And/or give us a reason why Cinder doesn’t try to run, a suggestion I make very cautiously because it’s not my intention to put the responsibility solely on her. This isn’t meant to be a “Just save yourself! It’s easy!” claim. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that young, barely trained kids go out into the world all the time in this show—Ruby, Oscar—and it’s an acknowledgement that Cinder tugged off her collar easy-peasy. The point is, practically speaking, Cinder could have left and braved the streets like Emerald did… so give us a reason why she decided to stay. Maybe she’s scared of living on the streets, acknowledging that a little food and a place to sleep is better than nothing. Maybe she’s scared that if she doesn’t have a direct connection to the hotel (convenience), Rhodes won’t train her anymore. Maybe, as an abuse victim, she can’t articulate why she won’t leave, she just can’t. Something to acknowledge these gaps because, right now, we just have the fandom going, “See? This is why the huntsmen are all evil cops. Rhodes took the lawful route and look where it got Cinder! He’s the responsible adult in this situation, so it’s all his fault.” Problem is, this take ignores:

The fact that our heroes are also huntsmen and were pretending to be huntsmen before they had those lawful licenses. So what does that make them? We can’t continually criticize these professional roles without criticizing our heroes’ use of them as well. Ruby just ensured the world would take her message seriously by introducing herself as a huntress. We can’t condemn these laws and privileges while likewise letting Ruby continue to use them however she please. It’s okay if she’s a part of the system, because Ruby is inherently good! That’s not how this works. I’ve just described every American cop show that tumblr is currently turning against: The system is corrupt and needs to be overhauled, but our protagonists are different.

The story fails to tell us why Rhodes won’t do more outside of a single line about Cinder being of legal age. That just acknowledges that age has some bearing on his decision, not whether it outweighs other considerations (can Cinder survive if she leaves?), or whether Rhodes even has a full picture of what’s happening to her (the collar). The takeaway is that we don’t know what his though process was because RWBY didn’t show it to us, not that his thought process is automatically awful.

Rhodes, as a literal stranger entering her life, is not 100% responsible for what happens to Cinder. I know people don’t want to acknowledge that because leaving a child in that situation is absolutely horrific, but if RWBY wants to be ~realistic~ (and it does) then we need to acknowledge that reality too. If you saw a child employee getting yelled at in a hotel and then found her with your sword, would you rip the collar off her neck and be like, “Congratulations, you’re my child now”? Nice as that trope is, probably not! Or hell, maybe a lot of you would upend your life and risk legal action to whisk them away, but a lot of other people wouldn’t... and they're not the devil for doing what they can within the bounds of the law. The idea that because Rhodes unexpectedly had one (1) encounter with Cinder means he’s now responsible for her life and outcome is, well, crazy. “But, Clyde, you can’t just see that kind of horror and not do something about it.” You’re right. You know what you do? Tell the authorities. But does Remnant have the equivalent of social workers? We don’t know! Which means we can’t assume that Rhodes didn’t call them just because he’s a bad person. Or maybe they exist and the fandom considers them too corrupt to be useful, like so many other authorities in this show. So… what else is there for him to do? There doesn’t seem to be anyone above Rhodes that he can turn to, he doesn’t (for whatever reason) want to essentially kidnap Cinder and start a new life with her, so what’s left? Try to give Cinder a healthy relationship and a way to escape in the long run, which is precisely what Rhodes did.

Honestly, I’m kind of salty that this guy went out of his way to help her, he saw what everyone else saw and was the only one who would help her, but because he didn’t do more—because he didn’t entirely upend his life and/or risk arrest to take her away to this hypothetically better situation—the fandom is acting like it’s his fault Cinder killed her abusers. It’s not. Cinder made that choice.

At the end of the day, blaming Rhodes reveals the expectation that it’s his responsibility to solve this massive problem purely because he had the bad luck to be the one Cinder stole from. That’s like telling a teacher who learns about abuse from a paper that following the lawful channels and going out of his way to assist the child in other ways is responsible when the kid murders their family one day. “Why didn’t you just barge into the house and take the kid?!” Because there are a hundred reasons why that would go incredibly badly? Rhodes can’t help Cinder if he’s in jail. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if she ends up dead on a mission while following him. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if their attempt at escape fails and she bears the punishment.

The only thing I think Rhodes did absolutely wrong was giving Cinder the sword while she was still under the owner’s thumb. Stupid, but not cruel. And again, stupid does not equal blanket responsibility. I’m likewise seeing, “Rhodes gave her the sword and thus it’s his fault that Cinder got in trouble. It’s his fault they died. What was Cinder supposed to do, not defend herself?” Are people forgetting that Cinder stole the sword herself in the beginning and then readily accepted it again? She had agency in obtaining weaponry and what she wanted it for. Are people forgetting that, in accepting it, she likewise accepted the risk of keeping it hidden in the hotel? Are people forgetting that the time skip shows this happening years later and that Rhodes clearly thought Cinder was past her murderous streak? Are people forgetting that Cinder killed the owner by snapping her neck and resisting the shock collar, no sword required? She could have killed them any time she pleased based on the crime scene, whether Rhodes had given her a weapon or not. The weapon was just the catalyst that, truthfully, could have been caused by anything else. Cinder snaps when they find the sword and she’s tortured. Cinder snaps when she drops another tray and she’s tortured. She had planned to kill her abusers and never completely let go of that.

Honestly, I’m just annoyed that we have another good hearted, takes action, does his best and makes some mistakes character getting blamed for everything another character chose to do, erasing their agency in the process. Rhodes did not abuse Cinder. Rhodes did not force her to kill her actual abusers. And Rhodes is certainly not responsible for what Cinder later becomes. Could Rhodes have done more? Of course, but every character could always do more.

The tl;dr is that this complex situation needed far better setup in the show and the fandom needs to stop using that lack of setup as “proof” that characters are horrible people when they fail to magically fix said complicated, badly explained problems. Cinder chose to murder three people. Whether that was justified in the face of her abuse is up to you to decide, but it was still her choice. Please stop blaming the adult male characters for the choices the teenage girls in this show make. RWBY is too convoluted and attempting to tackle too many complex issues to reduce that to, “Every man here is the evil, responsible party and ever girl is a #queen. Even when they go on to murder Pyrrha ^_^” As a woman who would very much like to be rooting for the mostly-woman cast more than I now do, this isn’t the feminist take people want it to be.

But I’ve jumped waaaay ahead. Let’s backtrack a bit.

That first interaction between Rhodes and Cinder is super weird because the camera keeps covering Rhodes’ face and I don’t know why.

We segue into that montage of him training her for presumably years (Cinder’s hair changes) until we see him giving her the sword in what’s meant to be a moment of pride and trust. Soon after, Rhodes (randomly) comes back to the hotel when everyone else is asleep and hears noises in the back. Moving to check them out, he discovers that Cinder has murdered the two sisters and is in the process of murdering the owner, throwing back the line, “Without you, I am nothing, but because of you, I am everything.” Again, much more impactful if this had been a line we’ve associated with Cinder for years now, not a couple of episodes.

After she breaks the owner’s neck (damn, strong hand!) she tells Rhodes she doesn’t have to run anymore. Cinder clearly expects him to be happy for her and is shocked when he takes out his weapons.

I’m sorry, this is not a “betrayal.” Could Rhodes have just let Cinder go? Sure. Should he have? Given what she becomes, that’s very debatable! Rhodes clearly thought he’d helped her grow into someone who was not inclined towards murder (giving her the sword) and thus is probably going to be a little rattled when he walks in to find her killing three people. Again, there are obvious differences given the level of abuse Cinder seems to have suffered in comparison, but imagine that Glynda, after teaching Weiss for years, walked in on her killing Jacques and Whitley in revenge. Is she supposed to just ignore that? Shrug her shoulders and wish her well? I know a lot of people consider that the “fair” outcome given the inclusion of abuse, but that’s because we’ve had an omniscient view of Cinder’s history and insight into her emotional state. Rhodes doesn’t have that. All he has is his oath as a huntsmen to prevent things like, you know, murder sprees. I’m not going to delve into the overall ethics of a judicial system, either in RWBY or the real world, and thus I’m not going to make any naive claims about it being fair—it’s fucking not—but I don’t think the answer to these systematic problems is, “Why wouldn’t you just let the teenager murder three bad people and then go on her way? She totally deserved it!” Rhodes is not in a position to decide that, which is the entire point of having a judicial system in the first place.

So Rhodes wants to bring Cinder in. Kind of like how Clover wanted to bring Qrow in once he had an arrest warrant. I can’t emphasize enough that wanting to start a legal process rather than letting clearly guilty/potentially guilty people go because they WANT to is not a “betrayal.” Regardless of what teen dramas may have taught us, you don’t have to potentially throw your own freedom and your morals away because you found out a friend is wanted by the authorities. Or you walk in on them currently snapping someone’s neck. There are options other than, “Believe your friend is right without question and help them hide the bodies” (looking at you, Maria, Pietro). Whitely is not insane for going, “Hey, can you not make me an accomplice to a crime by forcing your way in here with a bunch of fugitives?” I’m constantly surprised by the number of fans who can, in one breath, condemn characters for not throwing a middle finger up at the law and in the next praise Jacques’ arrest. Do we want to benefit from this system or not? If yes, that means you have to weigh which laws can be broken (such as in a protest), which should be obeyed (bring murderers and wanted men in), all while working to change the laws that are prejudice and aren’t working.

Anyway, they fight. It’s short and sweet, backdropped by the large clock striking midnight, hence our title. I’m incredibly suspicious of Cinder breaking Rhode’s aura first, given that she’s still the student in training, but here we can more persuasively say he wasn’t fighting seriously, given that he then stupidly rushes towards her without a weapon. Still, that would be the second time now that RWBY has relied on elite fighters “holding back” to explain how the kids in training beat them, the first instance, of course, being with the Ace Ops.

Rhodes does rush Cinder though when she hits the wall and breaks her own aura, clearly concerned. She uses the moment to stab him with both swords. He uses his last breaths to put a hand on her head, conveying that he doesn’t blame her for how this all turned out.

Then Cinder pulls off her collar with a single snap and looks up at the broken moon, crying her single tear.

I’m dragging the flashback for multiple reasons, but I want to emphasize that I think this episode is leagues better from what we got last week. Absolute night and day. It’s just that, as always, improvements are incredibly comparative in RWBY. It’s not really good for numerous reasons… it’s just better than what we’ve gotten before. It’s “great” provided you go in with standards buried in the ground.

We then return to the present as Cinder wakes up in Salem’s whale. This scene gives us a great shot of her grimm arm, so cosplayers take note!

Emerald arrives soon after and immediately rushes to her side, expressing how worried she was. She grabs Cinder’s grimm hand without hesitation. Honestly, I don’t care much about either character… but this single frame activated some sort of ship button in my brain.

Not fully because I’m personally not drawn to toxic relationships in fiction (which, as I’m about to explain, would absolutely be the case here), but just the tinniest bit. Because I’m a sucker for monstrous people being loved despite their monstrous nature, so having Emerald take that hand over the other is like a ship speed run for me.

I’m predictable, folks.

But we need to talk about less happy things for a moment. I mentioned above Cinder becoming an abuser herself. I hope I don’t need to lay out the laundry list of murders, attempted murders, sabotage, and general taking-over-the-world-ness she’s engaged in since Episode One. Don’t let a sad backstory erase all that. Hell, for all we know the hotel owner had a horrific backstory too! Doesn’t justify how she treated Cinder. The point though is beyond her clear status as a villain, we now know that Cinder treats Emerald just like the owner once treated her.

Cinder was “rescued” from her life on the farm by the owner. Emerald is “rescued” from her life on the streets by Cinder.

Both realize over time that the situation they’re now in is actually worse.

Both reiterate that they “owe” the other “everything,” with Cinder having that shocked into her and Emerald seeming to willingly believe it.

The owner treats Cinder as a slave. Cinder treats Emerald as a slave. “Both of you, get out. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.” The only difference is that Cinder’s orders were things like “Scrub floors” and Emerald’s are “Convince an audience this girl attacked our ally.”

Both use threats to keep the other in line: the owner with her shock collar and Cinder with her Maiden powers. Cinder doesn’t need to resort to violence (yet) because Emerald adores her, but the threat is always there.

There are even visual similarities this episode, such as kneeling and gem necklaces, though I acknowledge fully that those are just interesting details as opposed to anything like persuasive proof.

The point is that Cinder became exactly what she hated, she just turned the dial up to eleven by going after the whole world instead of a single child. “But Cinder never had a chance to be anything else.” Sure she did. Blake and Weiss are proof of that. Even if we believe that Cinder was doomed to be a villain due to the extent of her abuse, what does that say about the hotel’s owner? We don’t know anything about her history, so what if she was abused too? Does that mean she was always “doomed” to treat Cinder that way? Does that excuse everything she did to her because she supposedly never stood a chance of becoming anything else? Of course not.

Though very iffily done, this is a commentary on the cycle of abuse. Each case is horrific, but it doesn’t excuse what comes later. Every abuser was once an innocent child and every innocent child has the capability of becoming the next abuser. Cinder’s life up until now was beyond awful and yes, she lacked a lot of privileges that others had to help them head down a better path, like Weiss’ wealth. On the other hand, she lacks other difficulties that would make that path harder for others, like Blake’s status as a faunus. Everyone has a choice to make: Will you treat others the way you were treated because that’s “fair,” or will you decide to treat others better than what you were dealt? There are lots of aspects that factor into the likelihood of someone choosing the latter—which is why I really like Rhode’s hand on Cinder’s head, acknowledging his understanding that she’s an abused kid taking the only path she thinks is available to her—but individual agency is by no means removed from the equation. Cinder escaped her situation and decided she’d never be powerless again. What does that mean to her, perhaps becoming a community member who works to prevent abuse like the kind she suffered? No, it means grinding the entire world under her heel until she’s the only one with power left.

This GIF continues to be the only one I need.

(No, the fact that it comes from a cop show and I’m using it for such an anti-law, anti-establishment story/fandom isn’t lost on me.)

(Also, if anyone is curious, this is why I love Ozpin. Out of everyone in this cast, HE has suffered the most, tenfold, and yet he still chooses to be kinder to those than they’ve been to him.)

Anyway, I should really stick to the plot lol. Cinder realizes that her waking up means that they’ve lost, which I still think is BS. Cinder needed a win to come across as a formidable villain again and the likes of Neo, Emerald, and a Maiden with years of practice under her belt should have wiped the floor with a scientist, retirement grandma, and a girl who got the powers an hour ago. But I again digress.

Mercury reveals that he will no longer be following Cinder’s orders because Salem has a special job for him. They’ve all been told to meet on the bridge.

Then we cut to Ozpin and Oscar.

My poor boy is a mess and Ozpin is in the process of begging Oscar to take a “break.” “I would like to express again that this is my burden to bear, not yours.” Take note, fandom. In a few moments Hazel will accuse Ozpin of being a “coward” because “All this time, it could have been you, but you let him suffer.” I just know a bunch of people will be going, “Yeah! Ozpin just let a kid get tortured instead of him. WTF??” Okay 1. We should always be suspicious of agreeing with the takes villains have and 2. Oscar just refused to let Ozpin do that. It is—again—his choice because he thinks that Hazel is “holding back” with him. Oscar is being a brave and logical dude trying to make the best of this situation for both of them. Don’t take that away from him just to make Ozpin look bad. What would we even want him to do? Take control back? The fandom has been yelling at Ozpin for that since Volume 5.

So they’re going back and forth when Oscar suddenly announces that they “can’t leave yet. This is our chance.”

Ozpin even says he thinks Oscar must have taken one too many hits because… yeah. What? Long story short, Oscar recognizes that they’ll never be this close to Salem’s subordinates again and that they should try to undermine her from the inside out, just like she’s done with the world since she knows she can’t take on everyone at once. I love Oscar taking charge here, I love them speaking in unison, I even love the hope of achieving something epic while in captivity despite my own belief that Oscar should break and reveal the Lamp’s password. What I don’t love is:

Another messy, unexpected belief that Salem made her choices because she “knows” she can’t win any other way. Except that—like Ruby’s line in the recording—Salem’s current attack blows that idea out of the water. She IS taking on the whole world. Granted, Ozpin and Oscar presumably don’t know that the whole world literally knows of her existence now, or that Salem was smiling about it, but they do know that she’s attacking Atlas head on. What else is that except a declaration of war with all of Remnant?

The idea of undermining Salem from the inside via Hazel. For anyone who reads my other metas, I just said that this idea wouldn’t work because Emerald isn’t the one torturing him, the one character who has consistently demonstrated hesitation (or, now, Neo). Hazel despises Ozpin so much that he would never listen to him. He despises him so much he doesn’t even see Oscar as his own person… at least he didn’t before. That’s been retconned now with Hazel going “easy” Oscar and having an actual conversation with Ozpin. Whereas before, he was slamming Oscar into walls and screaming about how he’s going to kill the “murderer” of his sister. They basically softened his character to make this plan possible.

The fact that this scene came about without Oscar and Ozpin ever getting to reconcile their problems. Last we saw them, Oscar was saying how he hated that Ozpin came back and refusing to acknowledge their merge. Now, they’re working together like they’ve always been solid allies. I get that the danger they’re in helps to put it all into perspective, but why can’t we get a few lines of them hashing this out? Or at least putting things aside until they’re out of Salem’s clutches? If you don’t need to re-write Hazel’s character with “he’s going easy on me” lines, you can use that space to deal with the conflict we’ve already established. Especially given the strange choice to have Oscar refuse to give up control and be the one coming up with this plan... but then Ozpin does take control and (maybe, see below) enacts it? I feel like we’ve missed huge chunks of this story. As it is, I wonder if RWBY will bother coming back to this. The questions of if/how Oscar will accept Ozpin and if/how he’ll reveal this secret to the group feels like they’re being swept under the rug and it will likely go unnoticed by a lot of viewers simply due to how intense the kidnapping plot is.

So things are a little messy, but otherwise enjoyable, and they’re about to get downright confusing. For me, anyway. See, Hazel reveals that he follows Salem because she can’t be beaten (cue my continued worry about Ruby telling the whole WORLD). She “can’t be stopped. She’s a force of nature,” and Ozpin is fighting a “cause with no victory, no end.” He yells back that “Someone has to try!”—bless this man—and then looks down at the ground going, “Salem can be fought. Unless… she brings the Relics together, if that happens…” and mentions summoning the Gods.

So here’s my confusion. The scene makes it feel like Ozpin is planting some sort of seed in Hazel’s head. He and Oscar JUST got done agreeing to try and undermine her from the inside out, then we get this line that feels like him “accidentally” dropping a secret that will turn Hazel against her. Except… Ozpin doesn’t lie here? The line isn’t useful to them as far as I can tell. They are screwed if Salem gets the Relics. …Right? Because if not, why the hell have the heroes been working so hard to keep them out of her hands? So I can’t decide if:

A) This scene is just written badly and none of this is part of the plan to undermine Salem.

B) Ozpin is going, “NO. Don’t collect the RELICS. That would be the WORST THING EVER /s” in an attempt to trick Hazel into doing it anyway and this is somehow supposed to hurt Salem, despite being presented since Volume 5 as the worst outcome for our heroes?

C) Ozpin specifically wants Salem to make the mistake of summoning the Gods because he thinks he’s completed his task? Or something? But what in the world would make him think that—especially without seeing Ruby’s message (not to mention the lack of unity that mess should cause)—or what makes him think the Gods would just destroy Salem regardless of what he’s achieved? If summoning the Gods was ever a defeat Salem option, why hasn’t he done it before?

I’m leaning towards A just because it makes the most sense by far, but that would also mean we had Ozpin and Oscar decide on this plan, have a chance to start this plan… and then didn’t actually do anything. Yelling at Hazel for following Salem isn’t a new strategy, they were doing that before, so what’s new? Or has the new strategy not been revealed yet? Idk, as happy as I am to see them being BAMF together, I’m slightly unsure about how it all hangs together. I’d much rather have an internally consistent and clear outcome that’s predictable (Oscar breaks or just holds out until rescue) rather than what appears like a super cool, badass, unexpected plot on the surface… but crumbles once you poke at the foundation a bit.

So whether Oscar and Ozpin started this plan or not, they’re dragged into the throne room where they’re forced to kneel before Salem. Yikes. She sits on her throne with the Hound, who I’m only now realizing could be read as a messed up Toto

We learn that Tyrian heard from Watts about his incarceration and hacking Penny. What? Okay, I took the time to go back through “Amity” just to find this screenshot.

That’s not a working Scroll! Idk what I thought Watts might do with it at the end of last week, but it wasn’t send a full, uninterrupted message to Salem that updates her on everything that’s gone down in Atlas. This thing is toast! Moments like this make me question how much communication there really is between the writers and the animators, despite last Volume’s disaster with Oscar telegraphing his punch like whoa. Are we still getting that level of miscommunication?

Salem then punishes Cinder for disobeying her by hurting her grimm arm. See, this here (for me, anyway) is the mark of a newbie writer. When the moment first started I went, “Oh nice. Just like the shock collar!” Then the scene made that abundantly clear by cutting to flashbacks of Cinder in her collar. That’s too heavy-handed. We already got the parallel, but then the show went, “Do you get it??” It shows that the writers are too scared that the viewers won’t get it, that their nuance will be lost, so they scramble to make it as obvious as possible, rather than trusting in their own writing.

And if you’re like, “So you want RWBY to be more clear and also… less clear?” the answer is, sadly, yes lol. The things that are already confusing due to retconning and inconsistent themes need to be made explicit, whereas the details that are already strong don’t need an in-your-face, “Okay, but did you really get the parallel here? We’re just making sure.” It’s like launching into explaining why a joke is funny when it’s already landed vs. telling a nonsensical joke and then waiting for the laugh that will never come. RWBY struggles in both areas.

Salem delves into this speech about how this is actually all her fault and she should let Cinder spread her wings or something. AKA, go free Watts and track down Penny. Then you can have your precious Maiden powers.

There’s a massive earthquake across Mantle and we watch a + medical symbol go out. Again, heavy-handed. We don’t need that in order to understand that the whole city shaking while the grimm look happily up to the sky is a bad thing.

We cut to Winter listening to the Ace Ops complain about Penny. She tells them to act like the elite they are, likely because she hates how they refer to Penny as “junk.” Still being set up to betray Ironwood, I bet. During this scene we learn that they have “confirmed visual of her leaving Amity. She appeared to be malfunctioning.” So Penny is alive? Also, they have eyes on Amity Tower and were able to see Penny leaving, but didn’t see any of our trio coming to launch it in the first place? Did Ironwood want it to launch? Did they see Cinder? I just don’t know.

Before they can get there though a message from Jaune comes through. Serious kudos to Team JNY for asking that “anyone” respond/taking the personal risk of calling for help in the first place. They’re finally putting—as Harriet says—they’re own selfishness aside in favor of the greater good. Yang obviously hates that it’s “you guys” they ended up with, but she’s not outright attacking the Ace Ops or anything. I’m like,

Excellent job, Yang.

Jaune is a little harsh in his panic. He said in his message that a “large mass of grimm” is heading towards Mantle and then when Harriet leads with asking about Penny, wants to know what’s wrong with her. Why are you asking about Penny when lives are in danger and “it’s” (the grimm) are “right there”? Except he, uh… points at nothing. There’s the chasm with (I presume) the weird grimm goo down it? Not sure based on the shot, but the Ace Ops expected a “mass of grimm” and then land to see no grimm anywhere nearby. So yeah, they’re more focused on the missing Maiden than the seemingly imaginary enemy Jaune is freaking out about.

They only get on board when the river launches itself at Atlas.

So the goo is, like, sentient before it becomes individual grimm? Or Salem is controlling it from her whale? Either way it’s BAD.

I want to briefly gripe about how the hell everyone is watching this. What, is there a camera conveniently trained on this one random part of Atlas’ underside and everyone’s scrolls tuned into that the second the attack started? It seems far-fetched, to put it mildly. In RWBY’s favor though, I want to acknowledge that we finally have appropriate expressions for the situation! This is good!!

I’m going to level with you all. My notifications have known no peace since I made the mistake of criticizing the adored trio that is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. I thought supporting Ironwood would get me heat. Nope. Not supporting the main girls is what did it and honestly? I shouldn’t have been surprised. Last week I pointed out that having them smile and, in Ruby’s case, coo during a moment of horror is not good animation and implies some pretty uncomfortable things about their overall sympathy level. The image in question:

It doesn’t set a good tone, especially when we add in what we’ve gotten for Ruby’s group across the rest of this volume. The counters of, “They need and deserve a break. Why won’t you let them be happy?” fall flat when we ignore that this group has been animated as consistently goofing off post-premiere. Sneaking into the guarded military base of a former friend? Tube shenanigans! Need to find your way around? Funny Penny moment! Semblance reveal? Cutesy chibi explanation! Need to do more sneaking? Silly coffee plan! Nora gets electrocuted? Joke about how awesome that was! Even Wiess telling Whitley to go to his room reads as funny to the audience.

Ruby in particular has been a problem, given that she’s our main character and the others’ leader. We take our emotional cues primarily from her. Alongside being a part of all these fun and games, her animation during more serious moments has been less than stellar. This is Penny when Nora goes down.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just focused on the fight.

This is Penny when the fight is over.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just chatting about suspicious activity.

This is Penny in the airship, worrying about Nora and the situation they’re in. This is also Ruby in the airship, apparently not worried at all.

This is Ruby when she learns her uncle is in jail. Is there shock? Fear? Horror that he might be in serious trouble? No, she just maintains the same emotion she had before: fury at Harriet.

So when we reach them watching the recording and they look like this:

No, I’m not convinced that this trio is taking the situation seriously, or that they really care about the people involved. I know they’re supposed to care, they all obviously care from a meta perspective, but the “obviousness” of that only exists in our personal understanding of the characters if we don’t see it on screen. I completely believe that Penny is worried about Nora because she’s animated expressing that worry. I completely believe that JRY are in the middle of a warzone because they’re (mostly) animated as fearful and angry. The rest of Ruby’s team has a scared line from Blake and Weiss holding Nora’s hand, whereas the majority of the emotion across this adventure has been indifference or playfulness. That’s a problem given how horrible the events of this Volume have been, most of which the group is aware of.

All of which is an incredibly long-winded way of saying that this

finally feels appropriate. Well done, RWBY.

Alright, this recap is already over 7k long so I want to return to our plot with the summarized: IRONWOOD WAS RIGHT. He said they couldn’t withstand a head on attack by Salem and he was right. It literally took seconds for her grimm to burrow into Atlas, knock out a tower, and disable the shield. Everyone still claiming that leaving is useless because it’s oh so obvious Salem’s grimm could fly however high it wants (when did we learn that?) are ignoring that leaving was at least a plan with some kind of hope attached to it. And, given her focus on the Staff, may have saved Mantle by drawing Salem’s attention away from the city. The point is we don’t know. All we do know is that Ironwood tried to do something in the face of hopeless odds, Ruby’s team stopped him, and now look, everything is awful. No one could have possibly seen that coming.

Salem: “It’s time.”

I’m very pleased that Salem is finally using the tools at her disposal. Upon reflection, I still don’t buy why she had to wait. “Well, she was waiting for the grimm goo.” She couldn’t have used flying grimm to take out the tower? Take a burrowing grimm and give it wings? She couldn’t have used the goo that was apparently inside her whale the whole time?

It’s all very convenient. In the sense that we’re drawing out the volume by having the villain inexplicably hang back, despite not having a good reason to. In the sense that—unless Ruby’s message comes back to bite her—the villain’s passivity also conveniently let the heroes accomplish the one goal they were desperate to achieve. All of that’s still not good, but at least the Volume seems to be moving out of the “not good” category and into the “slightly better” territory.

Although, as I just acknowledged to a friend, RWBY seems to alternate for me. Every time I have an episode where I think, “Okay, there are still massive problems here, but I can see a glimmer of hope” the next episode is inevitably the pits.

Still, grabbing onto that hope with both hands: Atlas should be decimated, folks! Grimm are swarming, our idiot heroes herded everyone directly under the city, the world should be panicking, and the cold should still be killing people if the story remembers that it exists. At this point my only question is wtf our heroes are supposed to do next, but regardless of what the plot gives us, it’s going to be wild. You all know what’s coming. Next week is our final episode before a two month hiatus, which means we’re going to witness all kinds of awful and then end on a six week cliffhanger. It’s inevitable, so best to emotionally prep for that now lol.

I don’t believe we have any Bingo updates, with the exception of edging towards a few: “Winter betrays Ironwood,” “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians,” “Atlas somehow survives,” and “Ironwood dies” being the most notable. We’ll have to see what, if anything, gets checked off next Saturday.

As always, thank you so much for reading (I feel like I don’t say that enough :D) and I’ll see you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby recaps #rwby midnight #mymetas

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blackjack-15 · 3 years

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The Weight of Living — Thoughts on: The Deadly Device (DED)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC, TOT, SAW, CAP, ASH, TMB

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. For this meta, like TMB, there will be an extra section entitled “The Theme” between The Mystery and The Suspects.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with my list of previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: DED, TMB; brief mentions of FIN, SSH, and ICE; brief mention of Iron Man (2008).

The Intro:

First off, this meta was supposed to be uploaded well over a week ago, and I apologize; life and health kind of got in the way, but it should be more constant for these last 3 metas.

I hope.

Like I mentioned with the last meta, this will be kind of a companion/two-piece meta with TMB. Where TMB focused on the effects of the dead on the living, DED instead focuses on the living’s effects on the dead — the dead in this case being Niko Jovic, of course. Let’s dive into that, shall we?

Just like how everything in TMB was dead, everything (other than Niko, rest in peace) in the lab is alive. The lab is full of people, of research — “living knowledge” in other words — of live wires and electricity, and is constantly growing and changing, just like a living organism does. With all this life present, the game is mostly concerned with how the living affect Niko.

What’s left of Niko after his death is his legacy — his work, his personality, his relationships (or lack thereof) with others, and it’s fascinating to see how our characters deal with and affect that. Grey is dedicating to curating Niko’s legacy (at Niko’s request, it should be noted), Ryan lives in awe of it, and Mason and Ellie are more pragmatic, wanting to use his legacy and work to improve their own lives. Victor, on the other hand, wants Niko’s legacy all to himself — to effectively erase it, in other words, which is another marker of him being our out-and-out villain.

Niko was divisive in life, and is even more so in death — no one can quite say exactly who he was. A jerk, a total scientist, someone who needed caring for, naïve, a useful tool — all of these were how people thought of him, and all of these were a part of who he was. In the end, it’s the efforts of the living that kill Niko — Ryan’s engineering, Ellie and Mason’s lack of concern, Grey’s reticence to get involved, and Victor’s machinations – along with his own secrecy and feeling of being apart from the world — or dead to it, more appropriately.

Stepping back from our characters and the weight of the living for a bit, let’s talk about the other thing that really makes DED stand out not only as a game but specifically as a Nancy Drew game — that is, its design in being a game that subverts the Nancy Drew formula at every turn.

There are a few obvious ones, like a phone character turning to a real-life suspect (rather than the other way around, like in TMB and ICE, or in any other game, where phone characters are Above Suspicion), the person hiring Nancy actually being the baddie, and Nancy having her safe places removed throughout the game, rather than crossing off locations where Bad Things can happen, but the more interesting ones are a little more subtle.

Our suspects provide a few more subversions — for example, our ‘meanest’ characters (Mason and Gray) are neither our explicit Good Guys or our definite Bad Guys, as often tends to be the case in Nancy Drew games. We also have suspects who hate each other openly revealed to be working together towards a common goal, which is a nice twist on the Warring Suspects trope that we see in quite a few games (ICE, FIN, SSH, etc.).

Finally, the structure of the mystery gives us our last two subversions. Instead of our normal Nancy Drew status quo where the characters are simple but their motivations end up being surprising/hidden/secret, we here have a straightforward motive — remove Niko to get his stuff — and our characters are the part that’s not straightforward, with each of them having warring traits within themselves that contribute to the fog surrounding the mystery.

Our villain also fails in this game through the cover-up, not through the crime. Normally, there’s a mistake that the culprit makes during the committing of a crime that Nancy finds evidence of later — a dropped business card, etc. — but in this case, it’s really only the cover up that implicates Victor at all, and he would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for, well, himself.

These subversions wouldn’t have been possible 10 or 15 games ago, and it’s a mark of how far the games have come that a game can be dedicated to subverting the usual formula and do it with such panache — and make a great game out of it, besides.

The Title:

As a title, The Deadly Device is pretty solid, if lacking a bit of flash. It gives us our method of murder and the academic ‘scope’ (i.e., science/engineering) that we’re playing in for this game, and tells us our crime — can’t be a deadly device without someone ending up, you know, dead — but doesn’t do a lot outside of that and hinting that the dead as a thematic element will have some role to play.

The reason the title is solid, however, rather than lacking, is that there’s not much else to call it that’s quite as well-fit to the game. It pulls (in a matter of speaking) from two Nancy Drew stories, The Crime Lab Case — which, as a title, yawn — and In and Out of Love, a story from the Nancy-at-college era that tried to be Hotter and Sexier than the previous books, but just ended up being a bit ridiculous. Neither one of those titles would have been any better — they would have been significantly worse, honestly, so The Deadly Device will stand as a good, solid effort for a great game.

The Mystery:

Disaster has struck at Technology of Tomorrow Today, a research lab in snowy Colorado: the lead scientist, a man named Niko Jovic, has been discovered dead in the Tesla Coil lab of electrocution. Months later, the case has gone cold, so owner Victor Losset decides to take matters into his own hands and hires Nancy to find his employee’s killer — not that there’s any doubt in his mind that Ryan Kilpatrick, the engineer who built the coil that killed Niko, is responsible.

When Nancy arrives on-scene and undercover, however, things aren’t quite as cut and dry as Victor would have her believe. It seems that everyone at the lab has means, motive, and opportunity — and whoever killed Niko doesn’t have any qualms about killing a nosy detective to cover up their crime…

Like with TMB, DED isn’t that interested in obscuring its bad guy to a “gotcha!” moment at the very end of the game. Instead, it’s largely concerned with putting disparate personalities under a huge amount of pressure and seeing what results. No one at the lab is super fond of anyone else who works there, nor of their superiors or employer(s), and all have the equipment and the intelligence to make use of the equipment to deadly ends.

Also like TMB, the crime has already been committed or begun, and it’s not Nancy’s job to prevent it — nothing is going to bring Niko back, after all — but to put together the post-mortem pieces and discover what really happened in the past, and the effect that the living have on the dead. It’s a thematic sort of conflict, and it really helps to elevate the game past “fun science mystery”. And speaking of thematic resonance in this game…

The Theme:

As we discussed last time, TMB was a game about fear — fear of death, of responsibility, of ignominy, of failure, etc. Being its sister game, DED is focused on the opposite of fear: acceptance. Instead of failure, responsibility, and other ever-present fears, DED is about the acceptance of the good, the bad, of yourself, and what others will do with your work and legacy once you’re gone.

In other words, DED is a game most concerned, thematically speaking, with certainty and resolve, rather than fear.

One of the biggest thematic elements in the game that proves this point is the presence of Niko’s recorded diaries. Not only does this feature some excellent voice acting by Josh Crandall, but it also gives a dead character the chance to discuss his motivations, his considerations, and — importantly — his sense of his impending death.

At no point does Niko dissolve into hysterics or even palpable fear; he simply accepts that there are consequences for both his and others’ actions, and that there are people in the world who believe the opposite of what he believes in — and are willing to kill for it.

Niko was a man who personified resolve and acceptance to a fault — had he informed others that his life was in danger, Victor would have had a much harder time killing him — but was also jealous of those who didn’t have to or have the capacity to have that kind of acceptance:

“I see why Tesla liked his pigeons. They fly only where they’re directed, and never question the effect the beating of their wings will have on the skies and the world below.”

The lack of acceptance in our villain is actually what leads to his downfall. The case has gone cold, and Victor is, legally speaking, off the hook — but he can’t accept that he’s gotten away with it, and instead decides to push it one step too far by hiring a detective. Had he not hired anyone, he would have been free and clear for the rest of his life — if the police weren’t able to find anything, the chances of them reopening the cold case are extremely slim — but instead Victor couldn’t accept it, and so hired the instrument of his own demise.

Every suspect has their own resolve in this game, and it’s that facet of their personalities that gives Nancy such a hard time at first, because none of that resolve includes answering the questions of a pesky investigator.

The Suspects:

First off is Obadiah Stane Victor Lossett, Nancy’s boss, owner of Technology of Tomorrow Today, and super evil killer of scientists who piss him off and prevent him from making oodles of money.

Like I mentioned above in “The Mystery”, the game isn’t so much concerned with obscuring Victor’s role as the bad guy. It’s a lovely moment when he shows up, changing from phone to real-life character (and suspect) — it’s in fact one of my favorite moments in the series, and I’ve spoken about it before in my list of the top 5 twists/surprising moments in the series — but it’s not a surprise that he’s involved in Niko’s death.

Victor fulfills the subversion of the formula that DED plays with a while also telling the correct story and theme for the game: he’s a man who took advantage of others for his own personal gain, and so everything he has is taken from him — including his notoriety — because of his lack of acceptance of the world.

“The world fondly remembers those who always give, and soon forgets those who only take.”

Next on the list is Ryan Kilpatrick, Victor’s favored patsy suspect and technical engineer at TTT. Energetic and quirky to (in my opinion) a fault, Ryan warned Niko several times that the Tesla coil would kill him, and then did exactly what he wanted her to do anyway.

To be fair to the girl, she was definitely in love with him, albeit a love more based on pity than on straight-out affection. “He had no one else in the world looking after him”, anyone?

Ryan only makes sense in a world where Niko was killed in the way that it appears first: by a simple malfunction in the Tesla Coil. Because Ryan built it, she would be legally responsible for his death, even though he was her boss when he told her to build it that way. It would be a simple, easy answer, and one that would have been totally thematically opposite of the story the game was telling, which makes her the perfect “preferred” suspect for Victor’s ruse.

Our two research assistants are next for consideration, so let’s start with Ellie York, our night-shift assistant who switched in order to avoid her coworker. A Good Southern Girl, Ellie is not above talking smack with a pretense of politeness and has a rather sinister motive up her sleeve.

Despite the fact that all research done at a lab is property of the lab, she (and Mason) decides that Isn’t Fair and tries to shop around their research to the highest bidder in an attempt to make enough money to pay off her debts.

The fact that she’s selling research that isn’t wholly done by her or Mason when she’s mad that her research is being (contractually and legally) used by someone else does rather put a damper on her ‘righteous anger’, doesn’t it.

As a villain, Ellie would have had to be a pair with Mason, which would have been interesting and a parallel to TMB, but just wouldn’t have told the story that DED wanted to tell. It would have been a story about backbiting and jealousy within a workplace, and thus would have lost its resonance with the historical backstory and with who Niko was as a person. As the victim makes the murder, Ellie (or Mason, or and Mason) would have been a poor choice.

Mason Quinto works the day shift and is far more neurotic than his night-shift companion, though just as guilty of attempting to sell research. He prefers his space neat and orderly, and gets quite steamed when Ellie messes it up to piss him off.

Yeah, there’s no way those two don’t end up in bed when they’re drunk. Honestly.

While the more ‘scientist’-like and nerdy of the two assistants, Mason is, in a refreshing change from normal tropes, also the more maverick of the two, running away with Niko’s work after the murder is solved and is only found at an expo by Gray a bit later, where a fight erupts until Mason comes back to work with Gray and Ellie.

He can also turn into a supervillain in a second chance, which is awesome.

Like I said above with Ellie, the only way Mason makes sense as the villain is to be a pair with Ellie, but it just isn’t the right story, thematically speaking. Mason (and Ellie) are a great example of how everyone in DED is guilty of something, whether they think they’re justified or not, and how putting these kind of people in a pressure cooker and turning it on only leads to disaster, sooner or later.

The last still-living member of our cast is Gray Cortright, security guard and ex-theoretical physicist, along with being probably Niko’s only friend — for a certain value of ‘friend’, it should be noted. Gray used to be the “smart one” until he went through what is basically a nervous breakdown due to his knowledge of theoretical physics and never quite recovered.

I’ll note that Gray would have been a more obvious choice for the early Nancy Drew games; a friendship gone wrong, a slightly “crazy” villain — the pieces are there. But because DED subverts the Classic Formula, Gray is instead probably the only person fully on Niko’s side — no tricks, no ulterior motives, no nothing. He’s exactly what he presents himself to be: gruff, grumpy, unkind, and not even close to a murderer (except, perhaps, where Mason is involved).

Let’s finish off our roll call with Niko Jovic, our murder victim and one of two foils for Nancy in this game. Niko was “100% a scientist”, interested most in the free use and free sharing of technological and scientific advancement, and less interested in developing technology to harm others.

This didn’t make him very popular with those who wanted to harm others, funnily enough.

It’s important that our victim in this case foils Nancy, because this is a game about (as we’ve discussed) acceptance and consequences. The consequence of Niko not paying attention to the fact that other people in the world are not like him was that there was an opening for a bad man to kill him. It’s not Niko’s fault that he was killed, but neither was he unaware that it was coming. He’s described as a ‘dead brilliant jerk madman’, and there’s a lot of truth in that; those who ultimately do good things and work hard are not always good or kind or nice themselves.

And yes, this is how he relates to Nancy. Nancy, like Niko, is a person who rather thinks what most of us would call “people skills” or “kindness” get in the way of the most important thing: solving puzzles and figuring things out. Both of them make the world better through their work, but honestly speaking, that’s not their ultimate aim. They’re not working directly to improve the world, they’re working for knowledge and to solve the puzzle.

In other words, they’re investigators, not philanthropists. And often (ultimately, for Niko), that’s what puts them in danger.

Over on Team Nancy, we have some familiar faces, beginning with our most unfamiliar familiar face, Nancy herself.

Hired as a professional detective undercover, Nancy Drew arrives at the lab to ferret out the murderer — and the truth behind Niko’s death — before anyone figures out that she’s not actually there on behalf of a new owner.

We learn a lot about Nancy in this game, not the least of which because she’s in what we can cheerfully call the opposite of her element (contrasting with TMB). Closely observed, surrounded by a subject that’s not quite in her normal wheelhouse, and where everyone around her is hell-bent on hiding everything they can from her — it’s a recipe for a frustrated detective, and that’s part of the reason that we see the return of not one but two (three? technically) detective (or detective-adjacent) phone friends, rather than Bess/George/Ned.

(Side Note: George, for all her specialty with science and technology, wouldn’t have been a good phone friend for this game, as she would have focused on the science, which isn’t really the point of Nancy’s investigation, and not enough on the case. Just putting that out there.)

This game features Nancy as a sort of patsy, rather than an unexpected observer or the target of revenge, and it should be no surprise that she outgrows that role fairly quickly. Her reluctance to search for evidence against someone, rather than evidence for the crime, clears the hurdle of Ryan’s Suspected Involvement pretty quickly while being the opposite of what Victor wanted out of her assistance.

On display here is Nancy’s fairness and her ability to ignore what others say about a case if it doesn’t suit her. Sure, she’s been told to watch Ryan and find her guilty, but Nancy’s pretty uninterested in that, instead centering her search around Niko rather than Ryan. Ellie makes a comment about Mason being about 60% scientist (and Niko being 100%), and it’s fair to say that Nancy’s about 60% a detective; she has other interests and motivations, but when she’s ‘at work’, she’s focused on doing her job to the greatest extent that she can — which is what makes her such a problem for Victor in the long run. And speaking of problems for Victor…

Returning from her role as the gloriously catty mean girl in ASH is Deirdre Shannon, criminology student and absolute sass master. Busted for hiring someone to write an essay for her in college, Deirdre’s clever enough to suggest making up the credit by assisting in a real-life murder investigation — albeit with a heavy dose of sarcasm for her frenemy.

Besides having the best lines in the game (her “did you forget that I don’t like you?” and voicemail message are incredible, along with her assertion that Nancy should get her head checked out due to her repeated hits on the head), Deirdre is there to help Nancy see things from a different perspective and to clue her in on information that she has no way to get — backing up alibis, old publications, and the like. She’s less concerned with the background of the case — the Hardy Boys (!!) have that covered — and is more here to figure out exactly who can be taken off of Nancy’s suspect list and why.

She also, in a rather glorious twist of fate, is the reason that Nancy is hired, having told Victor that Nancy suffers from “chronic wrongness”, among other things. I can just imagine how pissed Victor must have been in jail with her — more than with Nancy, certainly — and can easily see a future where, upon his release/escape, Victor goes after Deirdre — it was after all Deirdre, not Nancy, who cleared Ryan.

But enough about games that would have been better than MID. That’s a nigh-unquenchable topic.

Deirdre’s there as the more prominent foil to Nancy within the game — and the game isn’t shy about foiling the two women. Both are bright, both come from River Heights, both are interested in/involved with the same boy, both are involved in crimes/criminology to some extent…the list goes on.

The thing that Deirdre-as-foil shows us about Nancy is that Nancy isn’t unique in what she does. Sure, the way she got into the mystery business and her credentials are unusual, but she’s far from the only girl in her late teens that’s interested in crime and mysteries, and far from the only one who can solve these types of mysteries.

Deirdre is often referred to as “the girl who could have been Nancy Drew” had things worked out differently for her — different parents, different friends, different connections, etc. — and we see that play out here. She’s not lacking for smarts, intuitive thinking, or creative problem solving — just in opportunity.

The Hardy Boys are here for their only appearance in the Nancy Games, and boy do they do The Most.

When last we saw him, Frank Hardy was helping Nancy out with a ‘relationship talk’, but here he’s interested in two things: talking to Nancy and researching to help Nancy. He’s quite proud of Nancy and her reputation, and is more than willing to help her on the case — though his first priority is her safety, as demonstrated by the voicemail.

That really should be capitalized, huh. “The Voicemail”.

I first wanna say kudos to DED for actually making progress in Frank’s character arc and relationship with Nancy, and giving context to his sulking in the next game. So often in games like the Nancy Drew games — and indeed, in the earlier games in this series — there’s an addiction to the status quo that doesn’t really allow for anyone to learn anything permanent, much less something that changes their behavior, so I’m pretty thrilled with this development even outside of shipping.

Second, I love that this is a topic that both boys are interested in, albeit for different reasons. Too often we have either Frank or Joe being enthusiastic about the context of Nancy’s investigation, and it’s nice here to see that the boys can agree on something — even if their answers are different as to why.

Speaking of different reasons for interest, Joe Hardy is back (we haven’t seen him for quite a few games!) and is better than ever. I’ve said it before (and I’ll say it again), but really Rob Jones does a phenomenal job with Joe, especially as the games progress, and DED is a perfect example. Joe’s dialogue is pitch-perfect and his excitement about Tesla is adorable.

I’m also going to point out that Joe’s identity as a very proficient tactician is in play in this game, as he is the one to point out how very strange it is that a man of means and importance would hire Nancy — not that, as Frank points out, Nancy doesn’t have a great reputation, but just that Victor should be able to hire a world-class detective rather than a girl in her late teens to investigate this murder.

The thing that the Hardy Boys are here to represent is Nancy’s fledgling footing into the professional world. Sure, she’s been a detective for hire for a while now, and TOT sort of ushered her into that world for good, but the Boys have been doing this for much, much longer, and have the sort of resources that make a huge difference when investigating crimes like murder versus circumstances like “my daughter is unhappy go help her”.

For all of Nancy’s natural inclinations, talents, and drive that make her a good detective, the Hardy Boys (along with Deirdre) show the downside of being an autodidact: the breadth of your resources isn’t anywhere near what others’ might be. The things she needs to solve this mystery are privy to those with better resources — colleges and agencies — and she has to rely on them to get the job done.

The Favorite:

DED is a game that I didn’t expect to like, but ended up really loving, so there’s quite a few things in this section that stand out.

The first thing I want to mention is I love Ellie and Mason’s interactions. In a lot of Nancy Drew games, we get the characters interacting with Nancy, but not so much interacting with each other, so it’s always a pleasure for me when it happens.

Deirdre holds her title as one of my favorite characters in this series, so of course she’s going to get a mention here. The “TDPD” segment has me rolling on the floor, her comment about Nancy volunteering for a neurological study sounds exactly like what a lot of fans joke about, and her voice acting (major props to Meaghan Halverson) is equal parts snide and earnest, all without ever losing her edge or likability.

As anyone who’s been in the vicinity of these metas knows, I’m a huge fan of the Hardy Boys, and I love their inclusion here. The geeking out over Tesla, the brotherly camaraderie, the hints at Frank’s feelings, Joe teasing Frank about said feelings — it’s all here, and it’s all wonderful.

My favorite puzzle would probably have to be the whole fingerprint-melting-gummy-bear puzzle, just because — I mean, at the end of the day, that’s just cool. I did a forensic-science-style unit in my elementary years where we printed fingerprints and distinguished between whorls and such and this made me exactly as excited as I had been all those years ago. It’s fun, fitting with the story, and involves gummy candies — what’s not to like?

My favorite moment — and I’ve mentioned this once already in this meta, and in a different meta — is the moment that Victor shows up. Savvy players of this series would know that there’s no way HER would include a model of Victor just for a video call, so it’s not exactly a surprise, but it’s such a wonderfully scary moment without being a jump scare or a startle.

Victor’s appearance closes down Nancy’s snooping spots, removes a safe place for her, turns the last bit of the game into a sort of mix of detective and stealth game, and is a huge subversion of the usual “phone-client” formula, and I absolutely love it.

My last favorite thing about this game is when you realize that Victor hired Nancy due to her supposed incompetence, rather than her being, in Frank’s words, one of the best that there is. It chills you down to the bone and makes the whole game feel more antagonistic as a result, and is just a really nice writing moment.

The Un-Favorite:

There are, however, a few things that maybe aren’t so grand in this game, even with all its good points.

My least favorite puzzle is probably the chemical puzzle — with the beakers and the exploding water and such — just because it’s quite finicky, and it takes up time that I’d rather be doing other things with. I thought about the printing puzzle, but honestly even though it takes time within the game to do it, there’s plenty of other things to do with Nancy’s time that makes the time spent there not so big a deal.

My least favorite moment in the game is, quite frankly, the time spent talking to Ryan. I find all the characters interesting as characters, but Ryan is exactly the kind of Quirk that I don’t handle well, in real life and in video games.

Honestly, her remark of “I less-than-three them!” was enough to get me to stand up and walk away from the game for a minute the first time I played through it.

Had this game come out a few decades earlier, she would have referred to Niko as “totally tubular” and stuff like that, and it’s…it’s just a lot to handle for me personally.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Deadly Device?

Honestly speaking, this is a game where there’s not a lot to do. I’d probably tweak Ryan to be a little less annoying and smooth out the chemicals puzzle, but those are more personal grievances than they are actual issues with the plot and writing.

Probably the only substantial thing I’d do is tie in the robotic cat plotline a little more. As it is, it’s easy to ignore and doesn’t have a lot of plot or thematic resonance, so I’d make it a little more important and noteworthy. And less scary looking.

DED is a game that sets out to tell a good story while subverting the usual Nancy Drew formula in big and small ways, and honestly it succeeds at both of those things with flying colors. It really feels like a setting where life went on before and will go on after Nancy leaves it, which is Valuable to me all by itself, and features some of the more colorful moments in the series — all while solving an actual murder for the first time since a Florida high school in the 90s.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #the deadly device #clue crew #nancy drew meta #DED #video games #my meta

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fanmoose12 · 4 years

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Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 5/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

It took two sets of the alarm to wake Petra up the next morning. Still sleepy, she yawned and slowly sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she looked out of the window. The weather was awful - the sky was grey, heavy clouds were hiding the sun and making everything look gloomy. It was raining too, the sound of raindrops, hitting the window, was defining in the otherwise silent apartment.

Petra groaned - she hated the rain. Sure, occasional summer drizzle was enjoyable, but weather like this? The cold and harsh autumn rain? The mighty wind that threatened to blow the umbrella out of her hands and then throw her onto the ground as well? She hated it more than anything.

But, whether she liked it or not, Petra had to go to work. So with a heavy sigh, she got up from the bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Draping a robe over her shoulders, she was going to head to the bathroom. A sound, announcing a new message on her phone, stopped her. She reached for the phone, quickly unlocking it. It was seven in the morning. Who could be messaging her so early?

Remember the cafe we visited yesterday? I'm waiting for you there. Don't take too long.

So it was from Levi! But didn't he request a day-off? And what was the meaning of his text? Was it his awkward manner of asking her out on a breakfast? Was it his way of apologizing for the failed interrogation?

Whatever it was, Petra wasn't courageous enough to call and ask him about it. She'd get ready quickly and meet him there. Certainly, things would be cleared out then.

After taking a quick shower and putting on a dark blue dress and a striped black jacket, Petra got in a taxi and soon arrived to the cafe.

And as she got out from the car, the small red umbrella as her only protection from the thick rain, Petra felt dread settle in her stomach. There was shivers running down her spine, and they had nothing to do with the droplets of cold water hitting her face.

The cafe. It was surrounded by police cars.

Fearing the worst, she made her way through the crowd of police officers, ignoring the trembling in her knees. Her hand was clutching the umbrella almost painfully. Her heart was beating so loudly, she could barely hear what the others were talking about. Only when she walked up to the entrance and saw Levi, sitting on a curb and comforting the owner of the cafe, that sweet old lady with a kind smile, only then Petra allowed herself to breathe out in relief.

"What happened?" she demanded from Levi, looking around in alarm.

"Another murder," Levi answered curtly. "The body is inside, I've been waiting for you to show up, so we can get a look at it together."

Petra nodded, ready to start the investigation. Before he got to his feet, though, Levi turned around, whispering something to the old woman. His voice was too soft for her to hear, and Petra turned around, giving them at least some semblance of privacy.

"Let's go," he said as he stood next to her.

"Detective," the woman called, before Levi and Petra disappeared inside. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

For a second, hurt flashed in Levi's eyes. He reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry for yours too, Dorothy."

The woman, Dorothy, looked so sad, so weary and tired. Petra's heart clenched painfully, as she was reminded of her own mother, who had died years ago.

"We'll find the killer," Petra promised her heartily. Levi turned his gaze on her, but Petra didn't let it steer her. She stared straight at Dorothy. "We'll find him and bring him to justice."

The old woman smiled weakly, but genuinely. "Thank you, dear," she whispered softly. "It means a lot."

Petra smiled back, but before she could give Dorothy a reply, she was roughly dragged away by Levi.

"Never give promises you're not sure you can keep," he said sternly.

"But I—"

"You're right, though," Levi continued, cutting her off. "We'll catch that bastard. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that."

Without sparring her another glance, Levi pushed the door to the cafe open, walking inside.

***

As soon as they entered, a short red-headed woman approached them.

"Detective Ackerman!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised. "Why are you here? Isn't today your day-off? Today is the anniversary of—"

"I know what day it is," Levi gritted through his teeth. "But we've got a dead body in the cafe. So, maybe, you would be so kind as to walk us through the case, Nifa?"

"Ah, of course, I'm sorry,” Nifa pursed her lips, looking up at Levi with caution. But then she sighed, taking out two pairs of sterile gloves and handing them to Petra and Levi. She straightened out and started leading them to the scene of crime.

"The woman, waitress, had her throat slashed, just like the previous victin. According to the owner of the cafe, the waitress had a night shift and was supposed to be working till seven am. At a little past six, the owner came to help with preparing for a morning rush and that's when she had found the body. She called the police and we arrived at half past six. Judging by the rigor mortis, the victim was killed approximately three or four hours ago. There," she gestured at one of the booths, where a woman sat, her head lying on the table.

The first thing Petra noticed about the victim was the yellow jacket that was draped over her shoulders. She wasn’t surprised by its flamboyant, cheerful color, or the fact that it looked like it was put over the victim after her death, no, it was the state of the jacket. The color definitely was bright and vivid before, but now it was covered with dust and soot. The hem and sleeves looked torn and ragged. It seemed as though... the jacket was burned.

Next to her, Levi took a sharp intake of breath.

"We don't know for sure yet!" Nifa blurted out, seeing the expression on Levi's face. "We'll need to search for DNA or—"

"No, it's Hange's," he murmured. His hand was slightly trembling, as he reached out to gently stroke the dirty clothe. His eyes were filled with affection and his lips curled into almost a smile, as gazed at it. “Only that idiot could wear such an ugly jacket.”

Petra and Nifa exchanged a worried gaze.

"That bastard," Levi growled a second later, all signs of that softness gone. He squeezed the hand on his side so much, his knuckles turned white. "He's playing with me again. Fucking asshole,” he spat, his eyes burning with rage. “Well, he can play as much he wants, I'll catch him anyway. And then I'll make him pay." Levi paused, lowering his head and taking a deep breath. Then he looked up, fixing Nifa with sharp gaze. "What else did you manage to find?"

"Not much," she answered honestly. "We couldn't find any fingerprints or other signs of the killer. The victim obviously didn't put up a fight, there is nothing under her fingernails and the only visible injury is the cut on her throat."

"Could she be dragged like the previous victim?" Petra asked.

"Possibly," Nifa nodded. "We'll determine it for sure at the lab. The killer obviously tried to keep this scene of crime as clean as the previous one, but we found traces of blood on victim's blouse and skirt."

"Is there any blood on the jacket?" Levi questioned.

"There is blood," Nifa confirmed. "But it's not fresh. We’ll need to run tests at the lab. To find out, whether the blood belongs to the victim, or...” she paused, staring at Levi apologetically.

“Or if it is Hange’s,” he finished for her. “Well, whatever you find, it’s probable that the jacket was put on the victim after her death."

Petra nodded, satisfied with herself. She came to the same conclusion.

"What about security cameras? Did they manage to catch something?"

"There are no security cameras inside the cafe, but we are still looking for them in surrounding areas."

"Alright," Levi concluded. "We'll take it from here. Let's go and ask around," he told Petra. "Maybe, we'll find a witness."

"Wait a second," Petra stopped Levi with a hand on his sleeve. Her eyes were still focused on that jacket.

It looked like....

Petra quickly put on sterile gloves and carefully tugged at one side of the jacket, revealing the inner layer. Just as she thought, there was something in the inside pocket.

A note.

Grinning victoriously, she took it out. The smile disappeared from her face as soon as she read the contents. Her heart missed a beat as soon as she read the contents.

Levi snatched the note out of her hands before Petra could begin to tremble.

"What is this shit?" he muttered, looking at the note. "You'd better stop looking for me, detective. Or the next souvenir I'll bring you will belong to your new partner," Levi cursed as he finished reading the note aloud. He crumbled the piece of paper in his fist, clenching his jaw.

Petra watched him with a detached face. The edges of her vision began to swim, as the words, written in that note, kept replaying in her head, ringing louder than the noise around her. Her limbs grew limp and her heart rate quickened, as she fruitlessly tried to breathe.

Even though, it didn't happen to her ever since she graduated high school, Petra could never forget the symptoms, the way her body felt in the beginning of a panic attack.

She tried to take a grip on herself, remember the lessons her father taught her. But his words, his wise advices kept escaping her, getting out of her reach before Petra could piece them together.

Her father always said, he always said that in situations like this the most important thing was to... was to…

"Breathe," Levi's gruff voice penetrated through the fog around Petra. "Petra, you just need to breathe, c'mon," he gently but firmly squeezed her shoulders. "In and out, slowly," he instructed her patiently.

After Petra managed a couple of calm exhales and inhales, Levi sighed in relief. "Here," he pressed on her shoulder to sit her down at a chair. Immediately, Nifa appeared with water and granola bar in her hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely worried.

"Yeah..." Petra nodded shakily, avoiding looking at Nifa and especially Levi. She felt like an idiot. It was just some stupid note, and she almost fainted because of it. What a badass detective she was. "Sorry for worrying you."

"I understand if you want to drop this case," Levi told her, surprisingly soft.

"No!" Petra jumped from her sit. Nifa, who was hovering over her and measuring her pulse, gave Levi an angry look. "I just overreacted, but I'll be fine, I promise! I can take it!"

Levi watched her for a long moment, his eyes skeptic and doubtful.

"I can't always be there to protect you."

"I know.”

"And yet you still want to continue the investigation?"

"Yes," Petra answered without hesitation.

Levi kept staring in her eyes, as though searching for a sign of doubt. When he couldn't see any, he sighed and shook his head.

"There is nothing I can say that would change your mind, right?"

Petra nodded with a smile.

Levi cursed under his breath. "Tell me when you're ready. Rest for a while, and then we'll start the search."

"I can handle the investigation by myself today," Petra offered. "It's your day off after all."

Levi frowned. "I shouldn't leave you alone."

"I can go with her!" Nifa cheerfully exclaimed, putting a hand on Petra's shoulder.

"Don't you have to be at the lab?" Levi asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nah," Nifa waved her hand. "I already came here at half past six, the boys can take care of the rest. Besides!" she turned to Petra. "I always wanted to take part in investigation. Oh, we're going to have so much fun!"

Petra couldn't keep a smile off her face, Nifa's excitement was infectious.

"Fine," Levi rolled his eyes. "Go together, but be careful. Do you have a gun, Petra?"

"Of course."

"And my phone number?"

"Yes."

“Good, if you see anything strange or suspicious, call me immediately. Deal?"

"Deal," Petra agreed. And before Levi left, she reached out to him. "Can we talk before you go?" she threw an apologizing look in Nifa's direction. "In private."

Levi tensed ever so slightly, but nodded without hesitation. "We'll be back soon," he said to Nifa and then turned around, leading Petra out of the cafe.

Before they left, he grabbed the granola bar Nifa brought to Petra.

Navigating through the crowd of policemen and curious pedestrians, Levi reached to his car. He opened the passenger door, gesturing for Petra to get in. Then he sat down in the driver's seat.

"Eat," he ordered, thrusting a granola bar into her hand. "And talk."

"Djel Sannes asked me to spy on you," Petra blurted out, shutting her eyes tightly. She was afraid to look at Levi's face. What if he gets angry? What if he is disappointed? What if he stops trusting her?

"Oh," Levi breathed out, surprisingly calm. "I didn't expect that. Did you agree?"

"What!" Petra opened her eyes widely. "Of course, not!" she exclaimed, but then paused, remembering their conversation with Sannes. Technically... "Well, truth be told, I did agree... But only to fool him! I'm not going to report anything to him!"

"You should," Levi said, shocking Petra even more.

"I... I don't understand."

Levi tiredly rubbed his forehead. "I need to discuss it with Erwin first, and I know I'm asking a lot of you..."

"Nonsense!" Petra cried out. "I'm on your side! And I really want to help!"

"Thank you," Levi told her earnestly. His eyes were a little softer than usual. It made Petra feel warmer.

"After what I just revealed..." she began uncertainly. “You still trust me? I could be working for him actually."

"No, you couldn't," Levi answered without an ounce of a doubt.

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Because you're a good person, Petra. And," a little smirk appeared on his lips. "You are a terrible liar."

Petra let out a surprised chuckle. She looked at Levi, feeling her smile grow wider. "So... What do you need me to do?"

"As I said, I need to talk with Erwin first, but... we could make a double agent out of you. You'll give Sannes some false information and then tell me his reaction. I need to know how much he knows."

"You can count on me!" Petra cheerfully promised. A moment later, however, a little frown appeared on her face. “By the way… why does he hate you so much?”

For a long moment, Levi was silent. His fingers drummed rhythmically at the steering wheel, as he appeared deep in thought. Petra was starting to think she won’t get her answers, but then Levi turned to look at her, staring right into her eyes.

“The trust should go both ways, I suppose,” he said. “I... found an informant. I don’t know who they are and I’ve never met them, but every once in a while, they bring me little messages with information. It’s the location of Sannes’ next deal, or a name of some politician who was bribed by him... that kind of stuff.”

“And these messages… they turn out to be true?”

“Every goddamn time. Sometimes I act on them, do whatever I can to stop Sannes’ dealings. Not always, of course, or Sannes would have me removed a long time ago. But he still suspects me, I guess.”

“Oh.” That was a lot to digest. "Oh!" Petra repeated, suddenly remembering. "Nifa is probably waiting for me! I should hurry!"

"Be careful!" Levi told her as she opened the door. "Don't forget to eat," he pointed with his chin at the granola bar she was still holding. "And call me if anything goes wrong, okay?"

"Of course!" Petra waved at him, and then ran back to the cafe.

Despite the worrying information Levi had revealed to her, she felt giddy and relieved, as she maneuvered between the pedestrians under the still going rain. He trusted her. Maybe, they’d be able to become real partners after all.

***

"I'm going to be honest with you," Nifa mumbled after taking a bite from a chocolate cake. "Today kinda sucked. I always thought that detective work was more exciting that just going around and asking people the same few questions."

Petra sighed. She felt exactly the same. They've spent the majority of the day, trying to find some witnesses, but were met with failure after failure. Now she and Nifa sat in break room at the forensics department, drinking tea and eating cake. Moblit was right after all, their tea collection was more than impressive. And Nifa's pastries were delicious.

“I'm sorry that I've dragged you into this," she told Nifa. "You're probably regretting your decision to accompany me."

"Oi, don't be ridiculous. It wasn't as thrilling as I hoped, but it was still better than being stuck in here."

"Huh?" Petra frowned. “You don't like working here?"

"No, don't get me wrong," Nifa answered. "I love my job, but I spend day after day, surrounded by dead bodies, and, more terribly, three boring nerds," she pointed to Moblit, Abel and Keiji, who were discussing something at the other side of the room. "So thank you for taking me with you," she smiled prettily. "I hope we'll become friends!"

"I would like that," Petra smiled back. Nifa was really nice. She would love to be friends with a woman like her.

"I hate to interrupt, ladies," Abel approached them. "But we'll be starting the dissection soon, so..."

Nifa groaned. "What do you need me to do?"

"No, no," Abel assured her with a nervous smile. "The three of us are more than enough for the job, but detective Ral probably isn't as used to smell as we are."

"Oh, of course, I didn't think about it. C'mon," Nifa took Petra's hand, dragging her upwards. "Let's go to your office then. I know where detective Ackerman hides his precious tea stash."

"You want to steal his tea? Won't we get in trouble with him?" Petra fretted, following Nifa out of the break room and up the stairs.

"Don't worry. If your partner wants to yell at me, he'll need to come down here first. Which I doubt he’ll do."

"I thought he visited your department a lot," Petra said with no small deal of confusion.

"Only when he needs an autopsy report or for us to look over some evidence. And he never stays for long."

"Oh."

"It wasn't like that before," Nifa noted sadly. "Before..."

"Detective Zoe's death?"

"Yeah,” Nifa shook her head. “Before that he frequently visited our department. He always complained about the smell," a wistful smile appeared on Nifa's face. "But usually, whenever detective Hange went, detective Ackerman followed. She always managed to bring him out of his shelf. Wait!" Nifa took out a phone from her lab coat. "You really need to see this!” she pushed Petra into an empty hallway, all the while searching for something on her phone.

"Found it!" she exclaimed, thrusting the phone in Petra's hands. She pressed play and cocked her head, hovering above the phone alongside Petra.

A video started to play. Whoever was recording it had really shaky hands, and the image wasn't in a good quality, but it was obvious that it was recorded in some kind of a bar.

"I took it two years ago. We just finished one extremely troublesome case and decided to celebrate with a night of karaoke," Nifa explained, as the camera focused on a small stage.

Three people were standing there, their hands wrapped around each other, as they struggled to keep themselves upright. One person in particular seemed painfully familiar.

"Is that..." Petra gasped, not quite believing her eyes.

"Yes, it's detective Ackerman, Сaptain Erwin and detective Hange," Nifa snickered, watching Petra's shocked expression.

Meanwhile, the first notes of "Don't Stop Believing" started playing. Immediately, Captain Erwin and detective Hange started singing. Erwin's voice was deep, and unsurprisingly, quite nice. However, the effect was somewhat ruined by his extensive slurring. Detective Zoe, on the other hand, wasn’t actually singing. It was more like she was screaming the lyrics into the microphone.

As soon as he noticed that Levi wasn't singing along with them, Captain Erwin nudged him. However, it had no effect at the other man, so Erwin redirected his gaze at Hange. She glanced at Levi and scowled, elbowing him in the side.

Someone in the background shouted "Detective Ackerman, don't be shy!", and Hange elbowed him again, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Levi rolled his eyes and tugged Hange by the shirt down to his level, so he could reply to her. Whatever he had said made Hange threw her head back and laugh. For a moment, Levi was staring up at her, seemingly mesmerized, but then he shook his head and started singing. He was barely heard, since Captain Erwin's and Hange's voices were so much louder, but there was a soft look in his eyes and a small smile on his lips, as he watched his friends.

"I can't believe that it's the same Levi I know," Petra confessed after the video was finished.

"You should have seen him and detective Hange doing a power duet to “I Was Made For Loving You”. That was something,” Nifa giggled again. “Too bad I was too drunk to record it. So yeah,” she said, hiding the phone back into her pocket. "Detective Hange had an uncanny ability to make your partner more fun."

"Yeah, I wish I could see him act like this..."

"Oh gosh! I'm sorry for putting the mood down! Let's change the subject!" Nifa linked her hand with Petra's, as they started walking again. "Do you know any interesting gossip?"

"G-gossip?"

"Ah, I can see that you don't," Nifa shook her head in disappointment. "Alright then! Do you have a crush on someone from the precinct?"

"What!" Petra's cheeks flamed up. "Of course, not!"

"Liar," Nifa sang. "C’mon, you can tell me! I won't tell anyone!"

And before Petra could deny it any further, she noticed Oluo on the other side of the hallway. He noticed her too. Smiling happily, he hurriedly made his way to her and Nifa.

"Petra!" he greeted. "You didn't change your mind?"

"Of course, not," Petra assured him, ignoring Nifa's curious gaze.

"Awesome, I'll pick you up at seven!" Oluo’s smile grew wider. He waited for Petra to smile back and then left, still grinning from ear to ear.

"It looks like I've got my answer," Nifa's voice was full of smugness. "For how long have you been dating?"

"It's our first date," Petra revealed, deciding that it was easier to just tell Nifa everything she wanted to know.

"First date? How romantic! What are you going to wear?"

"Er," Petra glanced down at her dress. "I was actually going to wear this..."

"No!" Nifa's hands flew to her face. "You can't just come in your work clothes! Absolutely not! Change of plans," she announced, as she turned around, dragging Petra along with her. "We're going shopping."

"But! It's only three o'clock! Our shift has not ended!"

"Calm down," Nifa rolled her eyes. "No one will notice if we leave earlier. Besides, we've done a lot of work today. We deserve some rest."

"But—"

"No buts!" Nifa ordered with a strict face. "We need to hurry, you don't have much time left. It's your first date! Everything should be perfect!"

Petra surrendered with a sigh. Obviously, there was no point in arguing with Nifa. She obediently followed after her new friend.

***

"Look at you!" Nifa cooed, as she finished painting Petra's lips. "You're so pretty! Honestly, I'm starting to envy that Oluo guy. If the date ends up being horrible... well," she winked with a sly smile. "I can always make it better."

"Stop it!" Petra playfully smacked Nifa’s shoulder, blushing furiously.

"It's just an offer," Nifa shrugged. "But seriously, he'd be the biggest idiot in the world, if he doesn't ask you out on a second date," turning Petra around to face full-length mirror, Nifa smiled softly. "You look gorgeous, Petra."

"I..." Petra stared at her reflection, eyeing it critically. She wore a knee-length blue dress. It was simple, but the color accentuated her eyes nicely. Her hair was put up in a small bun with a few strands failing at the side of her face. She had to admit it - she looked good. "Thank you. It's all your doing."

"Nah, I didn't do anything."

"Don't say that!" Petra protested with a strict face. "You took me out for shopping, you helped me pick the dress, you even helped me with make-up and hair!"

"Alright, alright, I accept your gratitude," Nifa smirked cheekily. "And now I take my leave. Your date will be here soon," she turned around, walking out of Petra's room and heading to the front door.

"I had a lot of fun today," Petra admitted, while Nifa was putting on her coat. "We should do this more often."

"Absolutely," Nifa nodded in agreement. "Good luck with your date," she gave Petra a quick hug. "And be careful."

"Of course," Petra promised, returning the hug heartily. "Thank you once again."

"You really need to stop thanking me so much," Nifa scolded, but then smile was back on her face. She waved her hand. "Goodbye!"

Petra closed the door after her, and then walked back to her bedroom. She checked herself in the mirror once again. She nodded to her reflection, more than satisfied with her attire. Then she grabbed her purse, putting phone, keys and lipstick inside. Her gaze darted to a drawer, where her gun was hidden. Maybe, she should take it? Petra almost refused this idea, normal people don't bring a gun on a date. But then again, normal people don't receive death threats.

No one would know that I have it, she tried to reason with herself, but it would make me feel safer.

Ignoring the sensible part of her, Petra swiftly put the gun inside. She closed the purse, and then the doorbell rang.

She hurried to the front door, opening it. Oluo stood on the other side, holding a bouquet of daisies and smiling shyly.

"For you," he said, awkwardly handing her the flowers. He desperately avoided looking at her face. Petra smiled, charmed by his bashfulness.

"Thank you so much," she leaned in to give him a small peck on his cheek. The skin there immediately reddened. Petra giggled, as she took the flowers from his hands. Oluo's eyes instantly snapped to look at her.

He gasped.

"You look..." he cleared his throat, tugging nervously at the collar of his dark red shirt. "Good. Yes, v-very, um, good."

"You don't look so bad yourself," Petra looked him up and down, smirking slightly, when she saw that the blush on Oluo's face became a deeper shade of red, almost in tone to his shirt. She turned around to find a vase for the flowers. "Just a moment, please! I'm almost ready!"

"Just don't take too long," Oluo huffed. "We have a reservation."

The smile didn’t leave Petra’s face while she was putting the flowers into a vase. It seemed like the good old Oluo was back. Of course, she enjoyed watching his embarrassed face, but, as weird as it was, she liked his usual self much, much more.

Huh, Petra mused, as Oluo helped her put on a coat and she felt her heart rate increase, when their fingers brushed against each other, she really liked that idiot. Who could have thought?

***

"...And that's how I ended up cleaning the entirety of Erd's apartment," Oluo concluded, hanging his head in defeat.

“You really should stop making bets with him,” Petra rolled her eyes. “He’s clearly smarter than you.”

“Oi!” Oluo cried out, offended.

Looking at his pouting face, Petra started laughing. Gosh, she had never felt so relaxed while on a date. Usually, she was anxious, picking her words very carefully, worrying about her posture and make-up. But being on a date with Oluo was easy, talking and joking and teasing was almost natural. She didn’t remember the last time she enjoyed herself so much.

“So, now that I’ve told you all the embarrassing stuff that happened to me over the weekend,” Oluo drank from his glass of wine and looked expectantly at Petra. “What were you up to?”

“Well, you know,” she self-consciously tucked a stray lock of hair behind ear. “This and that.”

“C’mon!” he nudged her leg under the table. “You’re a detective now! And a partner of Levi Ackerman himself. Spill it out, Petra. How does it feel working with him? Is he as badass as everyone says he is?”

“He’s an ace detective, that’s for sure,” Petra said, remembering her first day and the way Levi cracked the case even before she went to question the suspect. "But sometimes..." Petra stared at her plate, mindlessly tossing the food around. "Sometimes I feel like he looks at me and sees someone else, you know? And he gets frustrated when that illusion is shattered."

"Oh. That must be tough for you," Oluo reached out and covered her hand with his.

"No, no, it's fine," Petra put on a smile. Oluo's gentle touch made her feel all fuzzy inside. "Despite all of this, I like working with Levi. He's really great at what he does. There is a lot I can learn from him."

"What about your case, though? I've heard it's really messed up."

"I..." Petra faltered, not knowing where to begin.

"You don't have to tell me, of course!" Oluo blurted out with a panicked expression, mistaking her uncertainty for unwillingness. "I mean, it's probably confidential and…"

"No, it's not that," Petra assured him. "You're not a civilian after all, and, besides, I trust you," Oluo's eyes softened at her words and he squeezed her hand a little tighter. Petra sent him a grateful look. "I just... it's so complicated, but maybe, you can help me. See something that I don't, you know?"

"Alright," Oluo nodded with determined face. "Tell me about it."

"So the whole case revolves around detective Hange Zoe? Levi's previous partner. On both scenes of murder, we found evidence that's directly linked to her... The glasses were confirmed to be hers, and Levi recognized her jacket that was draped over today's victim... And both scenes of crimes, the apartment complex and that little café, play a big role too. It’s clear that these places were important for Hange, and… for Levi. And!" Petra put her hands into her hair, getting more frustrated as she recalled more details from the case. "There are so many things that make no goddamn sense! Where do Zoe's things come from? What does the killer want from Levi?

Petra took a deep breath and then continued.

“And another thing! The first scene of the crime was meticulously cleaned, the woman had her throat slashed, but there was no sign of blood. The second was mostly clean, too, but blood wasn't cleaned out from the victim's clothes. So the killer goes out of his way to ensure that the scene of murder is clean, but he's clearly not obsessed with it. Then what is his deal? Is it just a habit? Why does he do that? Ah, just thinking about it makes my head spin! There is so much I don't understand."

Petra took a large gulp of wine, avoiding Oluo’s eyes. She probably told him too much, burdened him with her work problems. The first date shouldn’t go like this. You shouldn’t talk about murders. And to think that she didn’t even mention the most disturbing thing – the today’s note!

"Hey..." Oluo began to gently caress her hand. Petra looked up at him, and was shocked to see a proud smile on his face. "Don't beat yourself over it. You haven't made much progress, but you're trying. And, I think, you're asking all the right questions. Now all you need to do is to find answers."

"And that's the hardest part," Petra muttered bitterly.

"Maybe," Oluo agreed. "But you're smart, Petra, and, god knows, you're stubborn. You can do this. I believe in you."

"Oluo..." Petra whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you so much. I... I really needed to hear it today."

"Oi, c'mon, don't start crying on me," he bent over the table, wiping tears from her face. "You’re not crying, because the date is so terrible, right?"

"No," Petra shook her head, chuckling. "The date is perfect."

"So that's a guaranteed yes for a second one?" Oluo asked with a smirk on his face that was clearly put there to mask his nervousness.

"You know what?" Petra smiled widely. "That's a guaranteed yes for the third date too."

"Yes!" Oluo pumped his fist in the air, attracting attention from all the patrons at the restaurant. Some looked at him with amusement, while other's eyes were filled with annoyance.

"Now let's eat our delicious dinner," Oluo told her, already stuffing his face with pasta. "Now that I'm not afraid that my awful table etiquette will push you away."

"Oluo," Petra smirked. "We've worked at the same office for years. I already know that you eat like a pig."

"And yet you agreed to a date with me."

"And yet I did," she answered with a sweet smile.

***

"Don't take me home," Petra said, as Oluo started the car. He froze with his hand still on the ignition key, staring at her with an opened mouth and wide eyes.

"No!" Petra cried out, as it dawned on her, how Oluo might have interpreted her words. "I need to go to the precinct, and not, um, you know…"

"Thank god," Oluo muttered, as he drove out of the parking lot and onto the street. "Not that I'm against it!" he quickly added. "But let's not move too fast, yeah?"

"Yes," Petra smiled, happy that she and Oluo were on a same page.

"Wait a minute," Oluo fixed her with a suspicious gaze. "What are you going to do at a precinct? It's almost nine pm!”

"I was hoping... to get some work done?" Petra answered sheepishly. "Your words... kinda motivated me."

“Well, of course, they did. I’m an awesome guy,” Oluo said with a pride smirk that made Petra roll her eyes. He was absolutely ridiculous. But, good lord, did she like him. “But shouldn’t you go home and rest? Can they even let you in at that time?”

“If I tell them I need to work, I’m sure the security will gladly let me in. Besides, I’m not going to spend the whole night there, don’t worry. I’ll just look over the autopsy report and then head home.”

“Promise?” Oluo briefly looked away from the road to give Petra a careful look.

“Promise,” she replied, feeling her heart skip a bit. Oluo’s concern, even it was really unnecessary, was extremely endearing.

“Fine,” Oluo huffed. “Go and do your job, you workaholic,” he stopped in front of a precinct and hurried to get out, so he could open the door for Petra.

“Text me, when you get home, okay?” he took Petra by the hand, helping her get out of the car.

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to press a brief kiss on his lips. “I’ll be waiting for our next date,” she whispered, enjoying the dazed look on his face.

Still smiling from ear to ear, Petra entered the precinct.

***

That same dreamy smile was still present on her lips, as Petra made her way through the precinct. She reached the hallway, where their office was.

And the smile disappeared instantly. A cautious, almost worried expression took its place.

There was a light coming underneath the door to their office.

Who could be inside at such hour? Was it Levi? But it was his day off.

It didn't make sense.

Petra slowly reached into her purse and took out a phone, her eyes never leaving that little shimmer of light. With trembling fingers she dialed Levi's number. One beep... two... Petra anxiously waited to hear Levi's ringtone on the other side of the door.

The hallway was silent.

"Petra?" Levi's voice in her ear made Petra jump. She hurriedly backed away, taking a few steps away from the door. "Petra, do you hear me? Is everything alright?"

"There is someone in our office right now," she whispered. "It's not you, is it?"

"What the fuck are you doing at the precinct at night?" Levi asked angrily.

“I wanted to do some work…”

“Jesus—” it was obvious that Levi was pissed and wanted to yell at her, but he took a deep breath, calming himself down. "Doesn't matter now," he added in his normal voice. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me and don't go in there, understood?"

"Y-yes," Petra answered shakily.

"Don't do anything stupid." Levi warned and then ended the call.

Putting the phone back into the purse, Petra carefully took out a gun.

Levi would be there in ten minutes. It wasn't that long. She could wait for him. It would be a smart choice.

Unfortunately, Petra wasn't feeling particularly smart tonight. She gripped the gun more securely and quietly made her way towards the door. The clicking could be heard inside, as though someone was typing on a computer.

Petra narrowed her eyes, feeling angry. She just couldn't let some stranger, probably a criminal, go through their stuff. It was illegal. And her job was to protect the law. So ignoring her trembling knees, Petra busted the door open and immediately aimed her gun at the intruder.

Their face was obscured by strands of hair, as they stared intently at the computer screen.

"Freeze!" Petra shouted. Thankfully, her voice didn't waver.

It didn't, however, have much of an effect on the stranger. They continued typing something with an impressive speed. They didn't spare even a single glance in Petra's direction.

"I said freeze!" she repeated with more force.

"And what happens if I don't?" they asked in a deep voice, still not lifting their face. "Will you shoot me?"

"Breaking into detective's office is illegal!"

"Technically," the intruder finally looked up. Petra gasped as she took a good look on their face. The hand with a gun fell limply at her side. "It was my office too. Still is, considering that my desk is unoccupied."

Unbelievable. Impossible.

She looked a little different from the woman on the photo Petra found in Levi's desk. She looked older and more tired. There were wrinkles on her face. Her shoulders were slumped, as though an invisible force was dragging her down. There were deep, almost black circles under her eyes— well, eye. Her left one was covered with a black patch.

But even with all those changes, there was no doubt in Petra's mind as to who was sitting behind Levi’s desk.

"...D-detective Zoe?" Petra uttered, staring at Hange with wide eyes.

"Oh, they still remember me in here," Hange noted with a self-satisfied grin. "That's flattering."

"Y-you're alive?"

Hange chuckled, her eye sparkling with amusement. "You have excellent observation skills, detective."

"B-but! How?!" Petra cried out, ignoring the jab.

"Ah, that's quite a boring story. A really long one too, and, unfortunately, I'm in a hurry."

"Wait! You can't leave just yet! Levi— y-you have to see him. He'll be so happy to find out that you're still alive!"

The smile slipped from Hange's lips instantly.

"No," she said coldly. "He can't see me. And you can't tell him that you've met me, Petra."

"How do you know my name?" Petra asked with a deep, suspicious frown. She was sure she didn't introduce herself.

Hange turned her face away. "I know a lot of things," she nervously fixed her glasses. "I... watch over him."

"So you still care about Levi!" Petra pointed an accusing finger at her. "Then why don't you want to meet him?"

"I have my reasons," she sounded strained, almost desperate. It seemed like— seemed like Hange wasn't trying to convince Petra. She was trying to convince herself.

It was obvious that Hange wanted to reunite with Levi. Petra could see that desire in the poorly hidden pain at the bottom of her brown eye. In the hard line of her mouth. In her palms that squeezed the edge of Levi's desk so hard her knuckles turned white.

And it was obvious that there was something keeping her away from acting on that desire. Some conspiracy Petra couldn't even begin to understand. Some plot, set in motion long before Petra became a detective. Possibly even before Hange's ‘death’. But she didn't care about that. Nothing mattered for Petra as much as the sadness in Levi's eyes and her wish to make him happy.

Besides, whether Hange wanted to meet him or not, it wasn't important anymore. That choice was made the moment Petra crossed the threshold.

"Levi will be here soon," Petra stared straight at Hange. "I called him before entering the office."

"No!" Hange's face twisted with panic. "Why would you do that? Fuck, I need to go," she glanced back at the computer, typed a few more words and then rose to her feet.

She wanted to leave. Petra couldn't allow it.

She raised her gun, aiming it at Hange.

"He misses you so much," Petra whispered softly, trying to plead with Hange. "Please, just let him see you. Let him know that you're alive."

"No, I can't, no, not now," Hange ran a shaking hand through her hair. "I have to go."

She took a step forward, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that Petra's gun was trained at her.

"I can't let you go," Petra firmly planted her legs, staring up at Hange defiantly.

"What?" Hange lifted an eyebrow, giving Petra an unimpressed look. "Are you going to shoot me?"

"I won't hurt you," Petra promised. "But I'll do whatever it takes to make you stay."

"Oh, Petra," Hange shook her head. "You're a sweet, sweet soul. And it pains me to do this, but if you don't let me through, I'll have to fight you. And I will hurt you."

Petra anticipated that answer. She also knew that in a fight against Hange Zoe, she didn't have a single chance. It wasn't her wide shoulders, or muscles that were showing even beneath the oversized green shirt. It was years and years of experience that separated them. Hange was skilled, she was smart.

But Petra didn't have to win this fight, just hold out until Levi arrives.

Hange moved fast, so fast Petra was barely able to take a fight stance. She tossed the gun onto the floor and raised her arms, thinking that Hange would hit her in the face. But Hange approached her and laid her hand on Petra's shoulder. She was going to throw her onto the ground, Petra realized, but it was too late to move away. Hange lifted her leg, meaning to kick Petra.

She wasn't quick enough.

Their struggle was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Hange tensed immediately, squeezing Petra's shoulder painfully.

"No." she whispered, her eyes filled with panic.

"Petra!" Levi shouted behind the door. “Where are you?”

"I'm here!" she screamed back, watching Hange carefully. All color left her face and her breath quickened, as she watched the door.

"Petra!" Levi threw the door open. "I told you not to fucking go… inside."

Levi's hand remained on a doorknob, as he froze on a spot, his eyes wide and mouth open.

"P-petra?" after several seconds of looking at Hange, he turned to her. His gaze, which usually held so much indifference, was now filled with implore. Petra helplessly stared back, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what Levi needed to hear.

"It's me," Hange said, understanding what Levi needed without words. "It’s really me."

"Hange," Levi breathed out. His voice was filled with so much relief and happiness. He ran to her, almost knocking her to the ground. Instantly his arms circled around Hange, as he held her in an almost suffocating embrace.

It must have been painful, Petra thought. But Hange didn't seem to care. She wrapped her hands around Levi just as tightly.

“Please tell me this is not a dream,” Levi asked in a shaking whisper. He lifted his head to stare at Hange. “Please tell me you’re really here.”

“I’m here, Levi,” Hange replied, almost choking as she said his name. “I’m here, with you.”

"You are alive,” Levi spoke fervently in her shirt. "Hange, you really are alive, I can’t believe it."

Hange moved one hand to Levi's head, stroking his hair gently. "You can't get rid of me that easily, shorty."

Levi softly chuckled, not making a single move to untangle himself from Hange.

They would probably stay like this for a very long time, Petra concluded. They more than deserved it. And they also deserved some privacy.

So Petra picked up the gun that was still lying on the ground and then quietly walked out of the room.

Before she closed the door, she threw one last glance at the still embracing couple.

So that was Hange Zoe, huh? A person, who can make Levi come completely undone with just her presence?

Petra smiled to herself. These two suffered for so long. She was glad that they finally managed to find each other again.

#this one's longer than usually ladies #but what a plot twist right???#i bet no one could have foreseen it #levihan #levi ackerman #levi x hange #petra ral #nifa #oluo bozado #levihan fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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pollenat · 3 years

Text

RED VELVET and A secret romance with their gang’s rival

➛ Note: Obviously, gang!au. These scenes are super random and not exactly as long as others, but I had this in my drafts for a while now, didn’t feel like completely discarding the work I’ve already done.

IRENE

Joohyun’s body moves on its own, her mind still asleep. Otherwise she wouldn’t have (or maybe she would) turned and reached for the other side of the bed. The lack of a body disturbs her awake.

She’s not home, though the bedroom is far from alien to her. The contents of shelves, the number of stains on the rug, the location of small holes in the walls - she already knows them by heart. Something she’s proud of, but shouldn’t share with others.

Lonely, perhaps scared of the word’s meaning, she calls for you. Usually, you’re fast to drop everything for her. Whatever it may be, nothing seems as important as Joohyun. This morning you’re not running like crazy to learn her demands. A repeat of your name makes no difference.

An electric shock of nervousness makes her get up after long hesitation. This is a safe haven, somewhere the outside world can’t reach, and yet her mind comes up with only the worst of possibilities. Nude feet stomp down the wooden panels. The floor feels cold against her heels, but Joohyun doesn’t show any sign of discomfort. She makes a stop by her jeans, lazily discarded the previous day. Fingers tighten around the object pulled out of a pocket. The black surface gleams under a ray of sunshine. Its owner has enough experience to always expect the unexpected.

Close to the wall, she slides down the corridor. Quiet and eagle-eyed, she’s ready to notice the abnormalities. Her ears pick up the sound of ragged breathing first. Then she notices a silhouette reflecting in the tiles of a corridor.

“Why are you holding a gun?” You ask her, genuinely confused.

Joohyun scoffs, partially relieved, partially annoyed. It’s 7 a.m. and you’re opening a jar of pickles instead of sleeping in. She drops the weapon on a countertop. The sound that comes from the meeting of hard surfaces makes you cringe.

“I thought something happened. Why are you up and not in bed?” The frown turns into a pout as Joohyun hugs one of your arms.

“I just felt like eating some pickles-” Without another word, she grabs the jar you are struggling to get opened, and easily does what you couldn’t. “Here, open. Now let’s go back to bed!”

“I love it when you unload frustration on objects.”

“Yes, yes. I’m aware.” She doesn’t hand you back the jar. “Pickles will come later. Now, we’re going back to bed. You’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

You may have abandoned the snacks, but something about Joohyun’s strong pulling and a sweet smile tells you there are better things to do.

SEULGI

The night sky is dotted with stars, as if they were its pride - jewels decorating collarbones. Something poets have always described as dark, being light. Although you want to share that thought aloud, you don’t. Not because of embarrassment. Seulgi would never laugh at something you’re serious about. Your choice is led by the dreamy atmosphere of your evening.

The two of you are lying on a blanket, somewhere in the middle of a forest. An hour long ride away from the city. A spot you feel like asking Seulgi about.

In your peripheral vision you can see her face turned towards you. There’s a smile you must’ve somehow caused.

“What?” She hums, hand sneaking under yours. “You’re staring.”

“Can’t I?” Fingers tighten around each other for a moment, before you push yourself up to lean over her.

Seulgi’s smile is still adoring, though now it��s sunken in shy undertones. She’s like that with you only. Otherwise, everyone knows her as the scary right hand woman. Her boss would’ve shot you in the face, had they known how close you were. It’s the sweet adrenaline of forbidden romance for you. Now, smiling, your fingers curl around loose locks of her dark hair.

“So, how many people have you taken on a date here?”

“Believe it or not, you’re the first one.” She brings her hands up to play with laces hanging from your hoodie.

“Then how did you find out about this place?”

“You know, drove by. Was followed, so I hid here and figured its a pretty lovely place.” One of the laces curls around her finger, just like a strand of her hair around yours.

“And you thought of me? Aww, you’re a real romantic.”

She laughs shyly, embarrassed by the conversation. You don’t intend on playing around though. A kiss is enough to silence her laughter. Seulgi hums in enjoyment, her face now covered by the shadow of your silhouette. As you press yourself closer to her, the back of her gun, always pinned to the belt, pokes the inside of your thigh. It’s a strong sensation. One that’s bound to burst a bubble. Yes, you’re used to it, but for some reason it’s not the same as holding the weapon in your two hands.

“What’s wrong?” Seulgi asks, feeling that something’s not right.

“Nothing, just got lost in thoughts for a moment here.” But instead of leaning forward once more, you return to lying on the back.

WENDY

You’re smiling widely in anticipation. The door opens suddenly, but it’s not able to startle you.

“Are you crazy?!” Her voice drips with pure anger, but her eyes scream relief.

Without any second thoughts, you push her inside and cage her little silhouette in a tight embrace. Seungwan does a poor attempt at escaping. She’s aware it’s of no use. She needs the comforting gesture as much as you do.

“You could’ve at least texted me first.”

“I did, but you’ve never answered me.”

When you finally let her go, she pulls out a phone and then gives you a look of pure disbelief. You might’ve written the message on your way to her apartment, but in your defence, Seungwan is the type of person that always has her phone close.

“What if someone was here? What if others saw you? Do you ever stop for a moment to think?” She scoffs at your ridiculing smile.

“Oh come on. What’s life without a little bit of excitement?”

“Umm, a good life?” Seungwan states as a matter of fact, which makes you wanna laugh in her face. But not to spite her. Rather to show her how sweet her whole being seems to you.

Yes, you’re the blunt one in whatever your relationship is. You’re the one to be touchy, clingy, also the one to piss her off with how “little” you care about being caught.

“Babe, you really need to chill. I’ve got it all covered. Of course, unless someone decides to pay you sudden visit, but even if, then that’s not on me!”

Her feet don’t follow you inside the living room. Instead, she’s watching you make yourself comfortable from the hallway. Expression of annoyance still present, it’s only a matter of time before Seungwan joins you.

“Stop being grumpy and come to me! I need a hug!”

She secures the lock first, but eventually does as predicted - joins your side on the couch. There’s still doubt on her face which you’re not at all worried about. These moments with Seungwan are the only way for you to experience normality. It tastes of the woman’s favorite toothpaste, feels like a fluffy rug, sounds like scoffs and occasional laughter.

“The things I do for you.” There’s still anger in her gaze, though much gentler than the one that welcomed you few minutes earlier.

JOY

It lasts a moment. In just a matter of few innocent seconds, she turns from a blonde in over-sized clothes to the Sooyoung you know, but maybe that shouldn’t be said. The passenger side in your ride quickly goes from free to occupied, and you don’t even hesitate before pressing accelerator. A taxi driver you’ve pretty much almost hit, honks. Your ear registers a string of curses thrown at a “senseless fuck”. Unimportant - the window closes.

“So, I suppose it went well?”

Sooyoung is redoing her lips in the mirror. Bright red is stark on the canvas of fair complexion. The corner visible from your point of view turns upwards.

“It did. Your boss is rampaging tonight.”

“Eh.” Indifferent, you wave the image of the closest future away. “When is he not.”

Soonyoung finishes her makeup with a loud pop of lips. She’s no longer the cold Mrs. invisible you saw earlier. Now, she’s the version you’re the most familiar with - the happy-go-lucky girl that happens to be doing shady business on the side.

“Where are we going?” She leans over the armrest to stare at you. Her chin rests on a hand, like a child does when watching movies. “Or wait, don’t tell me! I want it to be a surprise!”

“In a few minutes you’ll change your mind again.” Without missing a beat (this time), you change lanes.

“Yeah, probably. And you won’t tell me either way.”

“That’s just how well we know one another.” Your smiles meet.

Soonyoung returns to her previous position, but leaves her arm behind. An open palm catches your attention. Fingers wiggle in anticipation. Amused, but in no position to reject them, you give in. Soonyoung’s grip is a strong one, full of need and comfort.

The car zooms through the city sunken in the remnants of a sunset. Pedestrians walk by, unaware that someone who should be behind bars is passing them. Same with the drivers. The thought makes your heart flutter from excitement. An overpowering feeling of having the world at your mercy causes you to put more pressure on accelerator. Soonyoung’s thumb caresses the side of your hand. Her red lips are a stable point on the blurry and constantly changing background.

YERI

Funny how the two of you live for the adrenaline.

“Isn’t it a bit risky?” You ask, swiping the corner of her lips with your thumb.

Yerim’s eyes follow, as you put the crimson colored tip in your own mouth. It humors her, and drives crazy at the same time.

“You love risky.” Neither of you address the tension, nor are oblivious to it.

Music may be blasting above you, but right now, here, by the bar, it’s just you two, a pair of bodies pressing at each other’s side without doing much more. Truth be told, the crowd is so busy with itself, you don’t know why you’re too hesitant to follow their lead, and join them with Yerim.

Your eyes meet again. These rendezvous that the two of you have every now and then are a rare occasion. Therefore, you always make an effort to take everything about the notorious Kim Yerim in, starting from the depth of her gaze, ending at the height of her heels. She’s a masterpiece, and your worst (best) rival, but not tonight. Tonight, she’s your alluring date.

Her head moves a little bit closer, pink lips opening to speak.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dance?” Yerim’s brows rise in a manner that could seem innocent to anyone else. But you know what she means, and you want to tease her a bit before eventually giving in.

“Why? Am I boring you with my wine?” Acting indifferent to her hand on your thigh, you grab a glass and sip on it.

She smirks knowingly, but sighs anyway. It’s all just an act to keep you going. Something of a roleplay - faking that you’re not putty in each other’s hands. The truth is much different. Had Yerim’s tone been stricter, you would have been the one to lead her onto dancefloor.

“What’s wrong with it?” Before Yerim gets a chance to respond, she makes a face of surprise, and pulls out her phone.

You don’t have to ask to get a gist of the situation. It’s business. As always.

Yerim meets your gaze with evident sadness. But that’s your line of work, and you’re not the one to keep someone from doing what they have to do.

“Just go.” You smile bitterly. “Before I try to steal your job.”

The kiss she gives you is too short, and too weak for your liking.

“I’ll text you later.”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#nobody: ... me: here have this super random collection of random scenes that don't make any sense #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop gang au #kpop au #red velvet fanfic #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #red velvet gang au #red velvet au #rv fanfic #rv scenarios #rv imagines #rv gang au #rv au

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