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shuxiii · 2 years ago

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Everyday pt. 8

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n i am dying, credits ''every day'' david levithan

TW: homophobia

a/n me messing i saw hanni in edits today and pictures I had to make chapter 8, still credits all to ''every day'' by David levithan, edit: I'm losing my sanity

Day 6006

The phone rings.

I reach for it, thinking it’s Hanni.

Even though it can’t be.

I look at the name on the screen. Austin.

My boyfriend.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hugo! This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. I will be there in an hour. Go make yourself purdy.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumble.

There’s a lot I have to do in an hour.

First, there’s the usual getting up, getting showered, and getting dressed. In the kitchen, I can hear my parents talking loudly in a language I don’t know. It sounds like Spanish but isn’t Spanish, so I’m guessing it’s Portuguese. Foreign languages throw me—I have a beginner’s grasp of a few of them, but I can’t really access a person’s memory fast enough to pretend to be fluent in any of them. I access and find that Hugo’s parents are from Brazil. But that’s not going to help me understand them better. So I steer clear of the kitchen.

Austin is picking Hugo up to go to a gay pride parade in Annapolis. Two of their friends, William and Nicolas, will be coming along. It’s marked on Hugo’s calendar as well as his mind.

Luckily, Hugo has a laptop in his room—since it’s the weekend and a school computer isn’t an option, I am going to risk checking in. I quickly open my email and find something that Hanni sent only ten minutes ago.

Yn,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

I click on the link beneath her initial and am taken to the home page of a big Baltimore tabloid website. The headline blares:

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

It’s Haruto’s story, but it’s not only Haruto’s story. This time there are five or six other people from the area claiming to have been possessed by the devil. Much to my relief, none of them besides Haruto are familiar to me. All of them are older than I am. Most claim to have been possessed for a time much longer than a single day.

I would think the reporter would have been more skeptical, but she buys the stories uncritically. She even links to other stories of demonic possession—death-row criminals who claimed they were under the influence of satanic forces, politicians and preachers who were caught in compromising positions and said that something very uncharacteristic had come over them. It all sounds very convenient.

I quickly run Haruto through a search engine and find more coverage. The story, it seems, is going wide.

In article after article, there is one person quoted. Essentially, he says the same thing every time:

“I have no doubt that these are cases of demonic possession,” says Rev. Anderson Poole, who has been counseling Watanabe. “These are textbook examples. The devil is nothing if not predictable.”

“These possessions should come as no surprise,” says Poole. “We as a society have been leaving the door wide open. Why wouldn’t the devil walk right in?”

People are believing this. The articles and posts in the comments sections are legion—all from people who see the devil’s work in everything.

Even though I should know better, I shoot off a quick email to Haruto.

I am not the devil.

I hit send, but I don’t feel any better.

I email Hanni, telling her how it went with Jiwon's father. I also let her know that I’m going to be in Annapolis for the day, and tell her what T-shirt I’m wearing and what I look like.

There’s a honk outside, and I see a car that must be Austin’s. I race through the kitchen and say a hurried goodbye to Hugo’s parents. Then I pile into the car—the boy in the passenger seat (William) moves into the back with the other boy (Nicolas) so I can sit next to my boyfriend. For his part, Austin takes one look at my outfit and tsk-tsks, “You’re wearing that to Pride?” But he’s joking. I think.

There is conversation around me the whole car ride, but I’m not really a part of it. My mind is completely elsewhere.

I shouldn’t have sent Haruto that email.

One simple line, but it admits too much.

From the moment we hit Annapolis, Austin is in his element.

“Isn’t this fun?” he keeps asking.

William, Nicolas, and I nod, agree. In truth, the Annapolis Pride events aren’t that elaborate—in many ways it feels like the navy has turned gay and lesbian for the day, and a ragtag assortment of people have come along to cheer it on. The weather is sunny and cool, and that seems to cheer everyone further. Austin likes to hold my hand and swing it like we’re walking down the yellow brick road. Ordinarily, I’d be charmed. He has every right to be proud, to enjoy this day. It’s not his fault I’m so distracted.

I’m looking for Hanni in the crowd. I can’t help it. Every now and then, Austin catches me.

“See someone you know?” he asks.

“No,” I say truthfully.

She’s not here. She hasn’t made it. And I feel foolish for expecting her to. She can’t just drop her life every time I’m available. Her day is no less important than mine.

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don’t understand this at all. It’s like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don’t understand why it’s so hard, when it’s so obvious.

One of the protestor’s signs catches my eye. HOMOSEXUALITY IS THE DEVIL’S WORK, it says. And once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn’t make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.

Predictably, Austin stops to kiss me in front of the protestors. I try to oblige. Philosophically, I am with him. But I’m not inside the kiss. I cannot manufacture the intensity.

He notices. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

I want to check my email on Hugo’s phone, but Austin isn’t letting me out of his sight. When William and Nicolas make a move to get some lunch, Austin says he and I are going to go our own way for a little while.

I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Hanni is going to find me.

While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Jiwon is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Beomgyu and Soobin in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Keeho later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.

“What do you think?” Austin asks.

“They’re great,” I say.

“You didn’t even look.”

I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.

I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.

“I like them,” I tell him.

“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.

I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”

And Austin said, “Or ten days.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”

And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”

Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.

The start of it.

Hugo would have remembered this.

But I didn’t.

Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”

He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.

“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”

“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Do you even love me?”

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

bsp; I keep looking for Hanni, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

Yn,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Minji, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Haruto has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

#Hanni x reader #Hanni Pham #Pham Hanni #Hanni Pham x reader #newjeans #newjeans fanfic #hanni pham #new jeans #nwjns #NewJeans Imagines #Newjeans imagine #Newjean Fanfic #NewJeans Fanfic #newjeans fic #newjeans imagine #Newjeans x reader

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dancingbread · 1 year ago

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I'm making a Mass Effect music video set to Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero and I just finished up ME2, save for a few DLC missions. As I approach 3, I find myself dreading it. Not because it's bad, but because it ends. I had the luxury of experiencing Mass Effect all at once my first time, so I didn't have as many negative feelings towards 3 that others have had.

What makes Mass Effect 3 painful for me is also one of the numerous reasons I love the trilogy: It ends. It's painful to watch two of my favorite characters, Mordin and Legion, die. It's painful having to say goodbye to the best love interests Garrus and Jack. It's painful having to decide how Commander Shepard dies. But I'm a masochist in this manner because it ending means I can put it into perspective and reflect on it. Sure there's Andromeda and whatever that new game in development is, but Andromeda is a spin-off and I hope the new game is too.

In today's media landscape, where profitable IPs are pumped out, having an ending is a selling point. It can be examined as a whole in a way that something like an MMO can't be, and I'm incredibly grateful that the story of Commander Shepard is over.

There's a head-canon I have regarding Mass Effect 3 and the Citadel DLC, that the Silversun Strip is Shepard's Valhalla. An eternal state where she goes after death where she can hang out and chill with her friends and simulate battle for the rest of eternity. It's incredibly comforting to imagine Shepard dancing with Garrus at the bar, playing dumb arcade games with the Normandy Crew, and running the simulator a million times with her closest friends. But like all beautiful things, it must end. It's incredibly beautiful and the devs poured so much love into the area, but finally leaving to finish the game is the worst part about it.

#mass effect #essay #video games #mass effect 1 #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect 2 #mass effect trilogy #mass effect 3 #commander shepard #femshep #headcanon #garrus vakarian #shepard x garrus

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dumfanting · 2 years ago

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Same Heart, ch 11: Conspiracy

A03 Link

Rating: M- mature

Warnings: major character death, drinking, alcohol, conspiracy, panic

Word count: 3828

(It may be my birthday, but I have a gift for you! This chapter was difficult to write for a number of reasons. Everything changes after this. Are you prepared? I’m not! As always, thank you for reading, commenting, and reblogging, it means the most.)

F! Reader/ Fives (technically Echo)

All too soon, you have to say goodbye again.

That night feels light-years away now.

There could never be a ‘routine’ while in the midst of a war, but you and Fives have developed the next closest thing to one. He, and all his brothers of the 501st, would deploy to various places around the galaxy, continuing the fight against the Separatists. While he was gone, you would worry constantly while working alongside Bortuse, with the two of you being left in charge whenever Kix was away. The men would return, you would tend to the wounded, and as soon as you got the chance, you would meet up at 79s for drinks with the men before the next mission.

Echo still lingered in the back of your mind, and in the ever-present stone around your neck. Fives, meanwhile, had not only his grief for Echo to contend with, but the additional traumas of being a soldier, and the events of Umbara weighed heavily upon him. You could see traces of it in the eyes of Rex, Kix, and the others who survived that mission.

You and Fives both would have your good days, your bad days, and your horrible days. With the ever-mounting pressure upon the GAR to put an end to this war, missions and campaigns were longer, further away, and deadlier. It seemed each medical shuttle that you received every few days was offloading more and more dying and injured men. Kix had promoted you to a higher station, putting you onto the same level as Bortuse, and when Kix was off-world the two of you would often struggle to stay on top of things.

With all of this, obviously stress levels skyrocketed between you and Fives both, which meant that bad or horrible days were all too common. It seemed as though every third or fourth night, one of you would awaken with a scream from another nightmare, and the other would be the one to try and pick up the pieces. You would have visions of scores of dying men, and you were never able to do anything, literally frozen into place. Fives would be forced to relive being stared down by a firing squad, or being unable to pull Echo back to safety; not to mention everything else he’d been through that you didn’t know about.

Through it all, though, you had each other, and the rest of the men. You had become a regular fixture at 79’s, and had in fact gotten to know them fairly well. Nights spent in the bar were often long, loud, and exactly what you all needed to unwind every now and then. Of course there was also the not-so-subtle habit you and Fives had of sneaking away into one of the refreshers or the long hallway together nearly every time. The group would all part ways after a handful of hours, and you and Fives would return to your apartment. Depending upon how much the two of you had to drink, you would pass out on the couch or manage to actually make it to bed. However you fell asleep, the two of you would always wake up to see the other there, and in those slightly hungover, quiet mornings, you found peace together.

Fives would try his best to keep you up to date on his and the 501st’s missions, but was usually beaten to the punch by Kix. Today was no different; you and Bortuse had been given the run of the hospital wards again. While he and Kix spoke further, you stepped outside into a hallway for a few seconds of peace and quiet; all the machines beeping and droids whirring around was starting to become too much. You of course did not find either of those things in the hall, instead stumbling upon Fives, Tup, and Rex, who were on their way to fetch Kix before the Legion’s departure.

When he sees your face, Fives’ lights up, and you can catch a glimpse of the energized, younger man he used to be, and your heart aches. Not only because you can kind of see Echo there, but also because you’ve witnessed how the war has worn Fives and the others down over time. You find yourself constantly amazed by just how resilient the men are, and so it’s odd when you notice Tup rubbing at his temples. Fives and Rex notice too, and when one points it out, Tup shrugs it off as an oncoming headache. You frown slightly, then open the door and allow the others to enter before you, Fives bringing up the rear with a cheeky smirk and grab of your ass.

A few rotations pass, then one day Bortuse pulls you aside, uncharacteristically keeping his speech quiet. He tells you that something’s gone terribly wrong with the mission to Ringo Vida. Your heart races as he says that Tup had some kind of dissociative episode, and shot and killed General Tiplar. You gasp.

“That’s impossible, Tup would never! None of the men would!” you say. Bortuse shushes you and glances around before handing a datapad over to you. You quickly read the report pulled up on the screen in disbelief, then return it to him. “Okay, so we need to prepare for a full evaluation when he gets here, right?” you ask.

“They’re sending him to Kamino with Rex and Fives. The seppies tried to abduct him,” he says.

“What?” you say, thankfully able to keep your voice down to a whisper. “Why in the galaxy would they want Tup?”

“General Skywalker thinks they may have had something to do with it all,“ Bortuse says, shaking his head. “We aren’t even supposed to see this report,” he added, quickly swiping across the screen of the datapad and making the report disappear.

“Then how-?” You start to say, but he cuts you off.

“Kix, obviously. I imagine he wanted you to know where Fives is as soon as possible. Officially, we never saw that report. Nobody outside of the mission is supposed to know what happened, understand?” Bortuse says, his normally warm voice cold and serious. You can’t help a shiver that runs down your back.

“Yes, sir.”

A few more days pass, and the men return from Ringo Vida. Tup and Fives are not among them. During a rare lull in the day, you get Kix’s attention and the two of you step into the hallway. You ask, hushed, if he had heard any updates from Kamino. Kix glances around, making sure that nobody else is in the immediate vicinity, and keeps his voice low.

“I have, and it’s not good,” he says with a heavy sigh.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. “Can you tell me anything?” you ask, trying not to panic.

“I’m not supposed to, but I’ve known you long enough to trust you. This conversation never happened, the details are being kept under wraps for now, it’s very serious,” he says, glancing around once more. Unconsciously fidgeting with the stone around your neck, you give him a tight-lipped nod and he quickly speaks. “Tup had actually been missing for four days, right after we got to Ringo Vida. Day five, he just appears back at base with no idea he had even been gone.”

“And nobody investigated?” you ask, surprised.

“Things had gotten too hectic, it fell to the wayside,” Kix says, shaking his head. “Later that same day, we all had gone into battle against an army of droids, and we were struggling. Tup especially, he kept getting distracted and holding his head, saying he didn’t feel like himself. Fives and Tup split off with General Tiplar, and the next thing I know, we’re being ordered to retreat and Tiplar is dead. Tup had fallen into some kind of fugue state and shot her.”

“I saw that much on the document Bortuse showed me; I still can’t believe it,” you said, eyes wide.

“Officially, you never saw that, understood?” Kix says, looking you dead in the eye.

“Understood, yes Sir,” you say while standing up a little straighter. Kix nods at you, then continues.

Upon questioning, Tup had no memory of what he had done, and suddenly fell deathly ill. They had no idea why and theorized that he may have been infected with some kind of virus or toxin by the Separatists while he was missing for those four days.

“It was unsettling,” Kix said, staring into space as he spoke. “Every now and then Tup would jerk back to consciousness and either make threats to the Generals or repeat something about good soldiers following orders over and over until he passed out again.”

You shivered, suddenly remembering how quickly Fives, Tup, and Hardcase had snapped to attention ages ago in the hallway. Kix took no notice of this and continued speaking.

The Separatist infection theory seemed to be confirmed when Tup was kidnapped by them on his way to Kamino. Thankfully, Rex, Fives, and General Skywalker were able to retrieve him. Last Kix had heard, whatever had gotten into Tup wound up ending his life, and Fives was being examined. He had spent so much time in close contact with Tup that they were afraid he may have been exposed to the mystery illness, and as such needed to be certain he was not.

You can’t help the soft gasp that leaves your mouth before you cover it with your hands. “What the hell happened to Tup?” you say shocked.

Kix simply shakes his head and says that they still don’t know.

“And w-whatever this, this virus or toxin was, Fives may have it too?” you say, struggling to keep your voice down as you begin to panic.

Kix sees this and holds you by the shoulders, grounding you as he speaks. “We don’t know yet, that’s why he’s still on Kamino. I have contacts there and I will let you know what they find as soon as I can, but for now we just have to wait and see,” he says sympathetically.

Your hands tremble and an all too familiar pit of fear forms in your gut. Before either of you can say anything else, the sound of approaching footsteps prompts the two of you to quickly duck back in through the door.

Nearly two agonizing rotations pass and you haven’t been told anything, which means Kix hasn’t heard anything, and your worry deepens with every hour that passes.

As you head home after work, you overhear fragments of whispered conversation.

“A clone tried to attack the Chancellor,” one man says.

The other hisses “I heard he’s on the run,” before they turn a corner and walk out of earshot.

You freeze, your mind shifting into overdrive. There was no way…

Your heart pounding, you then break into a run, sprinting the remaining stretch of your walk home. Of all the days to forget your com link, you think, cursing as you punch the elevator door buttons.

You reach your floor, and after taking two attempts to unlock your apartment door, you burst inside. You unceremoniously slam the door behind yourself, drop your jacket and bag onto the floor, and look frantically around the room in an attempt to find your com link. You hear a faint beeping coming from between the couch cushions, and you are simultaneously relieved to have found it, then anxious when you see multiple missed calls and a single message. Fumbling with the device, you access the message and sink into the couch as it begins to play.

It’s Fives, and the first thing you notice is that his head has been shaved and he isn’t wearing his usual armor, but that’s immediately overshadowed by the panic in his eyes and voice as he speaks. “Cyare, I’ve found something. Something huge; I can’t come home, they’re after me. Whatever you hear-“ a blast of static interrupts the message, garbling the audio and holo projection. “-you safe,” the message continues after the interference passes. “I’m sorry,” Fives says before a commotion in the background distracts him and he abruptly ends the call.

Your heart pounds in your ears and your vision starts to blur. Your hands go slack and you drop the com link to the floor.

“Whatever you hear,” he had said. You had no way of knowing what he said after that, but something in your gut tells you that he’d said it was a lie.

A clone attacked the Chancellor. Tup had attacked a General. He had some kind of infection, and there was a chance that it had passed to Fives.

“They’re after me,” you whisper, suddenly nauseous.

It made no sense at all, but at the same time, it did. You suddenly stand, wavering a little as the blood rushes from your head to your legs. You make your way to the liquor cabinet, wrench it open, grab the nearly-empty bottle of Corellian whiskey, and finish it off in a single gulp. Your anxiety and the drink mix and your head swims. You drop the empty bottle to the floor and make your way into the refresher in a daze. You’d just taken in so much, you knew a shower would help clear your head. At least, you pray that it would.

A few hours later, you are having a fierce internal battle with yourself while pacing restlessly in the kitchen.

A clone attacked the Chancellor.

Fives would never do such a thing.

An unknown force compelled Tup to kill a General. Fives may have been exposed to it.

We don’t know that for sure.

It makes sense.

It makes no sense!

You’ve lost count of how many times you have tried and failed to reach Fives through his com link. Eventually you realize that if he really was being pursued, the smart thing to do would be to ditch it somewhere in an attempt to avoid detection.

Suddenly your device chirps, and you frantically answer it. It’s not Fives, but Jesse, asking if you were going to meet up with him and a few others at 79s. You shake your head to clear it. Being around others may help you to get a hold of yourself, you reason. And if that doesn’t work, at least some more drinks would help you relax. You tell Jesse that you’re on your way and end the call.

You reach 79s after about an hour. Fighting through traffic was always a nightmare, even on public transit.

As you walk through the doors, your worry eases a tiny bit when you see Jesse and Kix in their usual spot at the end of the bar near the refreshers and hallway. Jesse and Kix glance at each other as you approach, and this, coupled with the noticeable absence of Rex, makes the knot of stress in your belly tighten. You try to shake it off, and take a seat at the bar. After the usual hellos, you wonder aloud where the Captain is. Kix and Jesse look at each other again before Kix speaks

“You haven’t heard?” he says, keeping his voice low, despite the noise of the bar and patrons around you.

You don’t get a chance to reply before Jesse cuts in and says “He’s with the General. They’re looking for Fives. They’re saying that he-“

“He didn’t,” you say coldly, interrupting. “I’ve heard that but I don’t believe it. He would never.” A server droid approaches and you order a few shots of the strongest stuff they’ve got, cost be damned.

Kix says your name in disbelief.

“We thought the same thing about Tup,” he says, not taking his eyes off of you. You remain resolute and do not respond. It's a tense couple of minutes until the server droid returns with your shots. You take the small tray, pay the droid, and watch as it wheels away. Without hesitating, you knock back one of the shots, grimacing at the strong taste. Jesse says your name, but you ignore him and gulp down a second shot.

“I refuse to believe that Fives would do such a thing,” you say, staring into the empty shot glass in your hand. You glance around, then pull your com link out of your pocket. You play the recorded holo message Fives left for you, then put it away again.

“You don’t actually believe-“ Jesse says, but you cut him off by tossing back a third shot and slamming the glass down onto the bar.

“No,” you say, turning to look at the two clones on your left. “I know Fives. He would never do something like that. And if he did, he’d have a damned good reason for it.”

Kix and Jesse glance at each other again and shake their heads.

You hail the service droid and repeat your order of shots. It rolls away, and Kix stands, moving toward the refresher. You’re left with Jesse, who looks like he wants to say something but keeps stopping himself. The droid returns, you pay, and gulp down another shot.

As you do, you don’t notice the clone that follows Kix into the refresher.

Fives tugs the ‘borrowed’ cap down a bit further, hiding the tattoo on his temple as he scans the room. It takes a moment, but he eventually spots Kix and Jesse. Kix stands, and when he moves aside, Fives sees you, knocking back a shot and looking aggravated, and his heart nearly stops.

He’s frozen in place for a few seconds until someone bumps into him and he forces himself to focus. He needed to reach Rex, and this was the only feasible way to do so. Fives adjusts the cap again and walks toward the refreshers, and you. He so badly wants to stop and talk to you, but he knows he’s on borrowed time. As much as it pains him, he passes you by as you take another shot, not noticing him at all.

He pauses before the refresher door, then, once he’s sure there’s nobody following him, steps inside.

You’re about to take a fifth shot when there’s suddenly a firm hand on your shoulder, stopping you. It's Kix, and he looks badly shaken, which startles you and you drop the glass. Ignoring the resulting spill, Kix leans down and whispers in your ear that there’s something important for you in the refreshers. You look up at him, confused, but he does not elaborate, instead using his grip on your shoulder to spin your bar stool around and firmly push you off of it.

Fine, you think, stumbling a little due to the shots. You’ll humor him.

You step into the quiet refresher and are badly startled when you hear someone say your name. Recognizing the voice, you spin around and see Fives standing near the door. Relief, muddied with confusion, fills you as you quickly walk towards him and he pulls you into a crushing embrace. You pull back and gently cup one side of his face.

“Fives,” you whisper, “What the hell is going on? They’re saying you attacked the Chancellor!”

“Cyare,” Fives says, just as softly. “I don’t have a lot of time. I need you to listen to me, please.”

You hear the strain and desperation in his voice and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat before you nod at him.

When Fives speaks, the words are a confused, rambling mess and you have a hard time keeping up with what he’s saying. Something about an implanted chip in his brain, the Kaminoans, and a conspiracy that traces back to the Chancellor himself. He gets frantic as he continues, and you try to calm him down.

“Fives, honey, slow down, I don’t understand,” you say.

You're startled again when he growls in frustration, stepping away from you and continuing to ramble.

You suddenly recall the conversation the two of you had so long ago about the Umbara mission. You cautiously approach him and say “Fives, look at me,” while firmly taking his hands into your own. “Whatever this is, I believe you. Remember what I said to you when you told me about Krell?”

“What does that have to do-“ he says, but you cut him off.

“I said that you’re a good man and that I’d never doubt you. I meant it then and I mean it now. I may not get what’s happening, but I trust you,�� you say, looking into his eyes. The uncharacteristic fear you see in them makes your chest ache and you suddenly pull him close and hold him tightly.

After a few seconds, he stops trembling a little and you take a step back to look at him. “Why are you here, of all places?” you ask.

“Rex,” Fives says, and you can see that he’s struggling to stay calm. “I need to talk to Rex. Kix will tell him where to meet me,” he says. Before you can ask, Fives vehemently shakes his head at you. “No, I’m not going to tell you where. I’m putting you in enough danger just by being here.”

“Fives,” you say, your voice beginning to crack.

“Cyare, please!” he says. He takes a step toward you and kisses you deeply, catching you slightly off guard. You quickly reorient yourself and sigh into him. He breaks away and presses his forehead into yours, speaking in a whisper. “Please trust me,” he says.

“I do,” you say, and a tear runs down your cheek. “I always will.”

He whispers your name and your heart breaks. A sudden sense of finality, that you would never see him again, crashes over you and you barely stop yourself from sobbing.

“I’m sorry cyare but I need to go, I’ve been here too long,” Fives says before abruptly breaking away from you and turning towards the door.

“Fives, wait!” You say in an odd whisper-yell.

He freezes, looking back at you.

You take a few steps, grab his shoulders, and crash your mouth against his. You’ve made this mistake once before and you would be damned if it happens again. You break away and say “I love you.”

Fives smirks, and you briefly see a flash of the shiny he used to be.

“I know,” he says. He pecks your lips one last time and exits the refresher.

You try to follow him, but when you reach the door, Kix is standing outside and intercepts you. He holds you back and you struggle against him briefly before managing to slip out of his grasp, much to the surprise of both of you. You push your way through the throng of people in the bar, ignoring the insults being thrown at you, and you catch a glimpse of Fives as he leaves through the front doors.

By the time you make it outside, he’s taken a speeder and rides off into the distance. After a few seconds, you can no longer see him.

Fives is gone.

Taglist: @kaminocasey @grievouus @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @wolveria @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @whore4rex

To be added to or removed from this list, please comment on this post

#my fics #series #tcw fives/ you #tcw fives/ reader #tcw fives #tcw echo/reader #tcw echo/you #tcw echo #tbb echo/reader #tbb echo/you #tbb echo

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chaoticvampirejedi · 3 years ago

Text

Ghosts of 79's

Summary: You loved your job as a bartender at 79's, but times have changed. Now the clones, loyal to the Empire, stopped coming here, so the bar had to be sold. You decided to come there one last time and say goodbye to this place. There, you can't stop thinking about the clones, the nights you spent here, and your relationship with Rex.

Pairing: Rex X GN!reader

Word count: 1947 (it was supposed to be under 1000 words)

Warnings: light angst, drinking, alcohol use, mentions of war and characters death

Tags: @ladykatakuri @hellothere-generalangsty @twinkofthedink (if I confused something and you didn't want to be tagged please let me) know

It has never been so quiet in this place before. No music. No laughter. No sound of feet clumsily dancing on the floor. 79's looked like a miserable shadow of itself. Unnaturally silent and empty. There was this old saying on Coruscant that every bar has its heart that keeps it alive. If that was true, 79's had definitely lost its own. It was almost unbelievable how abruptly things have changed.

And who could have expected it? you thought, looking at the blue illuminated bar counter where you used to make drinks every night; right now these nights felt like from another life.

You had no idea why you came here today; you didn't work here anymore. No one did. But you couldn't just leave this place without saying goodbye to it. Not after all these nights. Your gaze shifted at one of the tables and for a second you could have sworn that you heard familiar voices shouting "To the 501st!".

The 501st Legion. Your favorite clones in white and blue armors that always seemed to have the craziest ideas. You smiled thinking about them. Memories came back. Good memories.

"Look who's here! The best bartender on Coruscant!," you used to hear often. It was usually Fives who greeted you this way. He and Tup loved to talk with you. Usually about their missions and battles; you loved those stories, their lives seemed so fascinating compared to yours. Surprisingly they had a different opinion on this.

"Ok, enough about us," Tup said once. "Y/N, and how about you? Tell us something interesting!"

"Me? Interesting?" you laughed. "Listen, my life is more boring than a broken droid. I have nothing interesting to tell you."

"Oh, come on!" Fives almost fell from his stool, he definitely had drunk too much that evening. "You work in the clone bar! I bet Tup's hair you have so many good stories! Just tell us something! Anything!"

And so, after a moment of thought, you told them; you told them about that one time you accidentally found one clone and your friend kissing in the bathroom. And then you told them about another fun day at your work. And another. And another. The three of you had such a great time that before you knew it your shift was over, but even then you stayed at the bar; you had too much fun to just go home. You smiled thinking about that day, the day you realized that maybe your life is not as boring as you thought.

You never found out how exactly Fives and Tup died, for some reason, no 501st trooper wanted to talk about their deaths and you decided to respect it even though it wasn't easy for you.

Now, looking at the empty stools you were wondering, if you will ever find such wonderful customers, again. Probably not. Fives and Tup were special.

You looked away and your gaze fell on the stairs that led to the upper floor of the bar now unlit and shrouded in the darkness. You chuckled, unable to suppress your smile as you remembered how you once slow danced on them with Kix. He had always seemed to be calm and sensible, and yet a few months ago he surprised you with this silly idea.

"Come on! Just one dance and then you can go back to work!" his hand gently grabbed your wrist. "I have to prove to Jesse that I'm not boring! I'm a good dancer. I promise you won't fall!"

He was right. You didn't fall. You both did.

And even if this incident left you with a sprained ankle, you couldn't stay angry with the medic for long. Especially since it was he who introduced you to Rex.

Rex…

Suddenly your smile disappeared.

He almost never visited 79's, but the others used to talk about him so often that when he finally showed up at the bar you recognized him immediately.

"So you're the bartender my medic fell down the stairs with," the blond-haired clone said when he heard your name.

"Oh, so you've heard about me," you laughed, pushing a drink towards him.

"Well... Let's say this story has become very popular, right Kix?" Rex turned to look at his friend, but he wasn't there anymore. "Kix?"

"It looks like this place is dangerous for him." something about Rex made you feel relaxed and in a joking mood. "First the stairs, and now he has just disappeared. Maybe you should go after him because who knows what will happen next? Murderous bathroom door?"

Rex chuckled and you couldn't help but think how cute he is when he's amused.

"Kix can take care of himself," he said, slowly turning the glass in his fingers. "He'll be fine. Besides..." he looked at you and smiled. "I really want to hear your version of that story."

After that evening his visits at 79's became more frequent. He never drank too much and spent most of his time talking with you. Soon you realized that you were looking forward to these meetings. Rex was… different from any other clone you've met before. Neither in a bad way, nor in a good way. He was just different.

There was something special about him and you couldn't explain it, but every time you saw him you felt happy and every time he had to leave you felt sad. And of course, you had been flirting with him; both of you knew you liked each other. Actually, everyone knew it, you weren't very discreet with it.

Then why didn't you do something about it sooner? you've been torturing yourself with this question for a long time, still unable to find the right answer.

Were you too shy?

Or maybe too scared that for him it was just casual flirting?

Now all these doubts seemed ridiculous. Everything was lost anyway.

Once again you looked at the counter bar and took a deep breath. You slowly stood behind it with your hand running over its cold and unusually clean surface. That was it. Right now, you were standing in the same place you last spoke to him. You stared at the empty seat in front of you, wondering what you told him then that made him laugh so much.

It was some joke about a droid and a Separatist, so stupid and childish that for one awkward second you thought Rex will be disgusted, but apparently he didn't mind. Instead, he just leaned toward you with a smile on his face.

"I have to tell you…" he was so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. "Thank you for this evening. I'm glad that I came here today. I really am."

"Wait," you almost knocked off a drink that you had just prepared for one of the customers. "Are you trying to tell me that you're leaving? Now?"

It was still quite early and you hoped that he would stay here for at least two more hours.

"Yeah. Tomorrow's a busy day".

You knew what that meant; tomorrow he will leave Coruscant once again.

"I see…" you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. There was no point in asking him when he would be back. No one knew it. "Well… Good luck then."

"Thank you." a weak smile appeared on his face. There was an awkward silence between you as there was nothing more to do or say.

"So… Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Rex was clearly embarrassed. "Please, take care."

"Yeah… You too."

"Always." he took the last sip of his drink and got up from the stool.

It was the moment when something broke inside you.

"Wait!" you grabbed his hand and looked frantically at his surprised face.

"Come with me. To my home. It's not that far from here. I- I'll say that I had an emergency and I have to leave earlier, so we can spend some time together... You know. Alone."

Your own words surprised you, but you didn't want to give up on this, so when you saw that Rex was hesitating you quickly added.

"My bed is very comfortable and I make the best breakfasts on this planet. You'll rest like never before."

"A nice bed and good breakfast you say?" Rex asked flirtatiously and tenderly brushed a stray of hair from your face. He clearly liked this idea. You had already smiled, convinced that he would agree, but then his facial expression changed. He wasn't the man who came to 79's to have fun and flirt with the bartender, anymore. He was a soldier. Loyal to the Republic and seriously taking the role assigned to him.

"No. Sorry. I can't." his hand slipped from yours. "Not today. Next time. I promise"

Next time.

But the next time has never come. You had been making drinks for so many clones, waiting for him but he never went through 79's doors again. Weeks and months passed and the 501st still didn't come back. You had been wondering how they were doing. Were they safe? Were they alive? Was he alive? Everyone had been talking that the war was coming to an end, so you let yourself believe that you would meet him again soon.

And then one day ruined everything. The Republic had fallen. Jedi had become traitors and clones…

You still couldn't understand it. Suddenly all clones have become imperial soldiers. Why? How? You knew them. They were loyal to the Republic and Jedi. Not to the Empire. Nothing made sense anymore.

That feral day also changed 79's forever. All clones stopped coming here and the rest of the Coruscant didn't want to spend any time in the "clone bar". Especially after recent events. The owner didn't hesitate for long; he sold the bar as soon as he realized that 79's couldn't be saved.

A single tear dropped on the counter. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry, but you couldn't help it. This place meant a lot to you and what? You were supposed to leave it behind, just like that? You knew you wouldn't be working here forever, but this? This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to celebrate the end of the war with Rex, not standing here alone and thinking that he was…

He's dead. an uncomfortable thought crossed your mind. Kriff. He's dead.

You tried with all your mind not to think about it, but you knew it was true. Rex would never betray his Jedi. He would disobey the given order. And if he did… Well. You knew what was the fate of every traitor. He was dead and it was high time you admitted it.

"Hey, you! I'm kriffing talking to you! Are you done standing there like a drunk Jedi withou lightsaber?" a sharp female voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked around in surprise and saw a woman in the doorway. Her face showed impatience.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, arm crossed.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I-I'm just… I worked here and…"

"Oh, great. Another sentimental clone lover who came here to think about the past. I'm sorry time have changed or whatever. Now, get out of here!"

Any other day, you would have said something mean to her, but not today. Today you were too tired and melancholic to think of any snarky reply, so you just wiped away your tears and walked towards the door, stopping only at the exit. You took one last look around the bar, ignoring the murderous glare of the woman.

"Thank you, thank you for everything," you whispered, and with the sound of a closing door, you finally said goodbye to the 79's.

#clone wars #sw fanfiction #79's #star wars fanfiction #Rex #Fives #Tup #Kix #rex x reader

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cicada-bones · 4 years ago

Text

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 1: Return to Mistward

Here we go! the first chapter of my rowan POV of Queen of Shadows! Please let me know what you think!

tw for thoughts of self harm, very minor

word count: 3832

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter

Rowan awoke abruptly, gasping and retching over the side of the bed. Bile pooled in his throat, and it was an effort to keep from vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach onto the cold stone floors of the fortress.

It had been the dream, the same dream. The visions that had tormented him for what now felt like months – though it had barely been a week since they had begun.

Aelin on her knees. Maeve towering before her, darkness wafting in deep pools around her feet. Black iron everywhere, keeping her chained to the floor. Keeping his queen locked in place.

Lorcan and Rowan appeared beside Maeve, whips clutched between their fingers. Aelin looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, and Rowan had to watch as he and Lorcan cut her skin to ribbons. As they cut her just like the men of the salt mines had cut her. As her master had cut her.

Maeve just laughed.

And that was usually when the screaming began. They were Lyria’s screams, but they fell from Aelin’s lips.

Rowan knew they were loud, knew the sounds coming from his queen were enough to echo through the castle, to shake its very foundation. But somehow, in the dream, he felt distant. Removed from them.

The sounds of her agony brushed his face like rose petals. Like a silver mist.

Cool. Soft.

And yet they made his heart pound through his chest, hammer and chisel on stone, splintering it apart. Piece. By. Piece.

Even now, he could still feel those screams radiating through his very being. Rippling through his soul like a rung bell. It felt as though their tender sound would never leave him.

It made Rowan want to tear out his own throat.

But instead, he slowly sat up, taking in slow breath after slow breath. Trying in vain to calm his pounding blood.

Rowan had been in Mistward for eight days now. Eight long days, and eight even longer nights. And he still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping in an empty bed. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it again.

It felt wrong to sleep in this bed without Aelin by his side. A bed they had shared for months, long enough for Rowan to get used to balancing himself on the edge of the mattress. Long enough for him to get used to hiding his desire from her, particularly in the mornings.

Her scent still lingered, almost like a friendly ghost haunting the stone alcoves. But soon, even that would be gone. Along with her muddy boots and lent garments.

Rowan had always slept on the side of the bed facing the door, providing Aelin as much protection as he could – even in his sleep. Aelin got the window side, where often, the moonlight would stretch its fingers across her golden hair, marking it with silver.

Now, it felt like an invasion to spread out, to brush against her side of the bed. To touch her moonlight.

So Rowan kept to his edge, and let the moon mark the empty space where his Fireheart used to rest.

For a while Rowan just lay there, letting himself be completely useless. Wallowing. But as the minutes slid past like hours, and Deanna finally slipped below the horizon to allow Mala to stretch her golden fingers over the land, Rowan dragged himself out of bed and prepared to face the day.

Each piece of steel he strapped to his clothes felt heavier than the last.

Rowan wandered down to the kitchens, his boots silent in the fortress corridors. It was still early, and Mistward was quite awake yet. But the kitchens, as usual, had been bustling with energy long before dawn.

From the top of the stairs, Rowan could hear chopping vegetables, the quick opening and closing of the bread ovens, the cursing of burnt fingers. The melody of Luca and Emrys preparing for the breakfast rush.

Rowan slid in as quietly as he could, grabbing a mug of stew and snatching a loaf of bread when Emrys’ eyes were averted, then retreated to a back corner to wolf it down.

“Hurry up with those vegetables, Luca! No time to waste – the stock should have started simmering over 15 minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry Emrys, it’s just that Elentiya used to deal with this.” Luca frantically shoved the mixed vegetables into a pot, and moved on to carving at a mysterious slab of meat. Roast duck, perhaps?

“I know I know.” Emrys said, exasperated. “Just get it done. Malakai will be down in a minute to take you away, and then I’m going to have to finish this all myself.”

As if the old male had summoned him, Malakai appeared in the entranceway, his lined face haggard with missed sleep. He nodded at Rowan, then snuck behind Emrys to embrace him.

“See? What did I say,” Emrys teased, a smile in his voice, “Now I’ll be without both my helpers to get breakfast on the table.” He snuck a kiss on his mate’s cheek, then twisted out of his grip to stir a massive vat of scrambled eggs, grabbing a handful of chopped chives from Luca’s cutting board and tossing them in.

Luca started working more furiously than ever, cutting bread into slices and portioning soup into bowls. Malakai reluctantly let go of his mate, then, surprisingly, looked up at Rowan.

“Prince Whitethorn,” he cleared his throat lightly. “Thrain has asked if I would join him beneath the fortress today, to help install the new iron gate. And Randall is over at the healer’s compound this morning, so – ”

Rowan frowned. He thought he knew where this was going. “ – would it be alright if you took Luca on patrol this morning?”

Rowan sighed. It wasn’t like he had anything more important to do. He gave the male a small nod, then said, “Emrys, if you need him this morning, it can wait until after breakfast is done.”

The old male didn’t even look up from the stove. “Thank you, Prince Rowan. Now Luca – ” Emrys gave the young male a daunting list of instructions, the boy’s face noticeably paling.

Malakai nodded at Rowan once again, kissed his mate, grabbed one of Luca’s slices of bread and cheese, then disappeared out the kitchen door, presumably to head for the tunnels beneath the fortress.

Rowan finished eating just as the demi-Fae began to arrive, told Luca he would be back in an hour, then left out the back door and headed into the forest, his limbs stretching into a slow, loping run.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken charge of Luca’s training since his return to Mistward, and he was starting to realize that he rather liked the young demi-Fae. No matter that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was almost like a very, very young Connall – always full of questions, and going around with that naïve, bright-eyed innocence. So impressionable.

His run slowly transformed into a sprint, his muscles burning with exertion.

It was strange to feel the boy beginning to warm up to him after all these months. Finally opening up, and asking all those questions burning on his lips. And it was nice that Malakai and Emrys seemed to trust Rowan with him, even if it was just to guide him through the basics of sparring, or run with him around the borders of the fortress’ lands.

Rowan knew that Malakai and Emrys were at least a little bit confused as to why Rowan was back, but they hadn’t asked too many questions, for which he was grateful. Malakai and the other leaders wanted an update on the events in Doranelle and to know the Queen’s response to the Adarlanian attack, but all Emrys wanted to know was whether Elentiya was all right.

Rowan told them as little as he could, saying that he had informed Maeve of the details of Adarlan’s attack on the fortress, that she was responding accordingly and would keep them informed through the usual channels. He told them that Elentiya was on her way back to Adarlan, and that he was here on his queen’s orders.

Rowan just didn’t specify exactly which queen had ordered him to return, and they did not ask. But somehow, he thought that Emrys suspected. That male seemed to be able to see through anything.

Rowan felt that Emrys and Malakai were wondering why he hadn’t gone with Aelin, but they didn’t say anything. And for that, Rowan was even more grateful. Because he didn’t have an answer to give them. He barely had an answer to give himself.

Rowan knew that Aelin hadn’t been telling him the whole truth on that pier, but he hadn’t wanted to push. She deserved her space, deserved to go back to Adarlan alone, with a clean slate and without a hulking ass like him hanging on her coattails at every moment. Even if it drove him completely insane.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he sprinted through the trees. Maybe this morning he would reach as far as the sea.

By the time they said goodbye, the captain’s scent had completely left her own. There was no trace of him left. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still want him, or that when Rowan saw her again, the scent wouldn’t have returned.

There was also that prince, the Havilliard boy. They were friends, at the very least. And surely a match between their two houses would be politically advantageous. The first daughter of Brannon Galathynius, and the first son of Gavin Havilliard, combining their houses? Certainly something Aelin would be considering.

Rowan ripped past a patch of thorns, their barbs digging into the skin of his forearms. He didn’t pause.

Aelin had only mentioned her cousin a few times, just in passing, but Rowan had heard of Aedion Ashryver. Knew all the stories about the wolf of the north. Even knew about the rumors that had circulated, several times over, that a marriage would be arranged between the two of them.

It could be a smart match, the two cousins. Aedion was respected and admired throughout the western continent, and beloved by his people. It would solidify Aelin’s position within Terrasen, and secure her more support within her nation. He even had his own legion of soldiers he could promise to her cause.

Rowan’s breaths were sharp in his throat. He pushed himself even harder.

Then there was the matter of her former master. Aelin had never been clear about her relationship with Arobynn Hamel, whether he was father, brother, or…lover. The word turned Rowan’s stomach.

He was now practically flying through the trees.

Aelin had told him that she needed to go to Adarlan alone because Rowan would be too much of a distraction, that he would only make things harder for her if he went with her. And that was true, at least in part. But Rowan thought that the real reason she wanted to go alone was because she needed to deal with Chaol and Arobynn without him there to complicate things.

Arobynn… Rowan sighed, gritting his teeth. Rowan wasn’t sure he had ever desired the death of another human being more than he had Arobynn Hamel’s.

Aelin had been so hesitant, so reluctant to say anything about her former master. But those scars spoke volumes.

He had chained her, had abused her, manipulated her, and then beat her bloody. He had tortured and killed her lover. Her Sam. And then he had sent her to the salt mines, where she was whipped and starved and had nearly been destroyed.

Rowan wanted to tear Arobynn limb from limb, wanted to rip out his fingernails and chain him up in the dark and leave him there until he started to lose grip on what was real and what wasn’t. There was no torture too extreme, no punishment that he didn’t deserve.

But if Aelin decided to forgive him, decided to let that monster back into her life, Rowan would have to live with it.

And it killed him.

Killed him to have her headed over that sea, towards enemies who had already nearly succeeded in killing her, and who had tried over and over and over again. And most of all, it killed him because he had no idea when he would see her again. No idea if he would ever see her again.

His legs kept pushing him forwards, his lungs fighting to keep up.

She didn’t want him. Aelin didn’t want him by her side.

Another ragged breath.

He would learn to live with it. Would learn to deal with that burden.

In. Out. Forwards.

Aelin would marry another, be it for love or politics. And Rowan would be there for her no matter what. That was the promise he had made, and that was the promise he would keep.

So he ran, pushing through the undergrowth until he could feel the sea air on his cheeks, until the wind whispered of caves and sand and foam and spray. Rowan sprinted right up to the cliffs, jerking to a stop.

He looked out over the deep blue water with sharp, determined eyes. As if he looked hard enough, he would be able to see her on her little ship, sailing away from him across the blue ocean.

But of course, the sea was as empty as it always was.

His breaths ripped through his chest, but before they calmed, Rowan had already shifted into his hawk and was soaring through the sea-tossed air. Heading back over the trees he had just run between.

This run had become a part of his routine. And while he told himself it was just exercise, he knew that it was really so he could run over the paths he had spent so much time with Aelin on. So he could feel like she was still with him, even fleetingly.

What had taken him nearly an hour to travel on foot took him barely minutes in the air. And soon, he was swooping down over the fortress and shifting to land on his feet outside the kitchen door to collect Luca.

Ever since the battle, the ward stones had been useless and silent, the barriers permanently fallen. Rowan had spent some time examining them, and though he could find no obvious flaw in the ancient stone, he also could find no remedy. Their magic was simply spent, and it would not come back.

As a result, the residents of Mistward had spent a significant amount of time and energy on designing replacements to secure the fortress; higher walls, stronger battlements, sturdier outer gate, larger drawbridge. These improvements were well underway by the time Rowan had returned a week past, and he had gladly thrown himself into the effort.

Even now, as he waited outside the kitchen for Luca to arrive, he could see various workers laying the foundation for the new gate and battlements, and others pulling a large wagon filled with quarried stone for the outer wall. Rowan would likely spend his afternoon among them, either with the men in the small quarry a mile or so away, harvesting stone blocks, or with those who were currently building the scaffolding to contain the stones as they were laid in place.

He wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it. The days were getting hotter as summer grew nearer, and though the day had barely begun, it already was promising to be sweltering.

Luca finally appeared at the door, Emrys’ voice calling from across the room reminding him to be careful, and that he would see him in the evening for the dinner rush, and to stay safe. Rowan disguised a small smile.

Luca glanced up at him briefly, then jerked his eyes away and skittered out of the entrance, making for the fortress gates. Rowan followed without a word.

“Malakai told me I was supposed to run the southern perimeter, and then work on my sparring forms.” Luca’s eyes met his, then flitted away again. Luca’s scent was mellow, buttered toast and apple slices, but right now it was sharp with anxiety and excitement.

Rowan nodded at the boy, and they took off towards the south, passing by sentries who waved and smiled at Luca, but didn’t seem to know how to greet Rowan. Most looked down and away, or raised their hands in half a wave which they quickly gave up on. Rowan ignored them.

Public opinion of him had shifted since the battle, but not by that much.

They ran in silence for a while, Rowan alert and watchful, though they found nothing of interest. Luca was demi-Fae, but since he couldn’t shift, they were confined to a much slower pace than Rowan was used to. Meaning a run that would have taken him minutes, took them over an hour.

By the time they stopped for water, Luca was panting, but determined. Rowan handed the boy the water skin, which he eagerly gulped down. Rowan stripped off his light cotton shirt, now soaked in sweat, and hung it up on a branch at the edge of the clearing.

Luca’s voice floated over to him, “Do you think Elentiya is ever going to come back?”

Rowan paused for a moment. “I don’t know, Luca. But I don’t think so.”

His brow was furrowed. “How long are you going to stay here then?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The boy almost laughed. “I used to think that you knew everything.”

“No one knows everything.”

Luca shook his head slightly, glancing around the forest, his lips curved upwards into a sly grin. “But I still thought you did – well, if not everything, then at least everything important. Bas – ” Luca’s voice stumbled a bit over the other boy’s name, “he tried to tell me different, but I refused to listen to him.”

Rowan’s heart sunk. Bas. He had been so young, only a little bit older than Luca. He hadn’t known any better, had just wanted what everyone did – to be accepted. To be safe.

“I killed him, did you know that?” Luca’s gaze turned to Rowan’s. “I was the one who killed him.”

Rowan nodded. “I guessed.”

His eyes jerked away again, his feet scuffing the earth. “I still forget that he’s gone, sometimes. But it was the right thing – what I did. Wasn’t it?”

Rowan sighed, frowning slightly. Luca looked back up at him, worried. “The world is a complicated place,” Rowan said finally. “Answers are almost never as easy as that. But yes, Luca. I think that you did the right thing.”

The boy’s face darkened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Rowan let the silence continue, just waiting. Knowing that he might be the only person who could soothe this ache for the young demi-Fae. It was a responsibility that he didn’t take lightly.

“Sometimes – ” he broke off, and though his face was turned away, Rowan could see that his eyes were lined with silver. “Sometimes I wonder whether I still want to become a warrior.”

Rowan considered his answer carefully before he responded. “Warriors are many things, Luca, not just soldiers. Malakai has been a warrior all his life, but his days are filled with the duties of a leader, not with violence.”

“That wasn’t really what I meant.”

Rowan waited.

“I meant – I’m not sure why I’m doing this anymore. I mean why do I even want to be let into Doranelle? It doesn’t seem much better over there than it is here.”

“Then let me ask you a question in return,” he said plainly. “Do you think that what you’re learning is worthwhile?”

Another pause. “Yes…” Luca said slowly. “Or at least I think so.”

“Then I would say don’t worry about whether or not you will pass your tests, and be let into Doranelle.” Rowan turned, and began walking through the clearing, scanning it over. “Many demi-Fae come here, and spend all of their time wishing to be somewhere else. Then when they don’t achieve that goal, they end up lost, and angry.” Rowan grabbed a long, sturdy stick from the ground and turned back to the young demi-Fae. “Instead focus on what you are in control of.”

Rowan threw the stick over to Luca, who caught it just before it smacked him in the face. The boy wiped at his eyes, then nodded.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Rowan guided him through the basic sparring forms, grabbing another stick for himself as they staged mock battles. They exchanged choreographed blows until the sun began to pull them into midday, and they returned to Mistward.

Luca traipsed off to join the other young sentries, and Rowan spent the rest of the afternoon toiling over a ten-foot section of the new outer wall, laboriously hauling piles of stone and fitting them into place with smeared vats of pale-grey grout.

It was hard, physical labor. The kind that filled your muscles with a satisfying soreness at the end of the day. But it did not fill his mind.

Instead, Rowan spent the afternoon mulling over his conversation with Luca.

That boy really did have a way of worming through other people’s barriers.

But it was more than just that. It had almost reminded Rowan of living in his uncle’s house, when he was still learning the fighting arts and was recovering from the deaths of his parents. He had been surrounded by cousins, both younger and older. And today with Luca – that is what it had been like back then. Learning and teaching alike, giving comfort and advice when asked.

It was a time so distant, it felt strange in Rowan’s mind. Like they were the memories of another, completely separate person. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

But this morning, he had reappeared. If only for a moment.

It was like putting on old clothes, made unfamiliar by time. The memory stretched tight over his new frame.

Rowan realized that he missed Sellene and Endymion and all the rest, missed their mess and chaos, and the countless children underfoot. It wasn’t likely he would see them again anytime soon. Nor that their meeting would be under anything resembling decent circumstances.

When they ate dinner that evening, Luca sat at Rowan’s table. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Rowan recognized the gesture for what it was.

And that night, when Rowan finally curled up at the edge of his mattress, his thoughts fell to family. To children. And what they would look like if he shared them with Aelin.

Rowan gritted his teeth at the idea, but he was unable to banish it. And so those thoughts coaxed him slowly to sleep, where he lay in the fortress of stone, surrounded by silver mist.

Just barely out of reach of the moonlight.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter

···

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simplybakugou · 4 years ago

Text

After All This Time

↝ At a small high school reunion with a few of your old classmates from U.A., Bakugou has to deal with your drunkenness.

BINGO SPACE: High School Sweethearts

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x drunk!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing, alcohol (all characters are aged up), fluff ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1581

A/N: this is another bingo piece of the event going on in the @bnhabookclub server! Thank you to @happygalaxymilkshake for requesting bakugou for this prompt. And am i doing all the bakugou prompts first because deep down i’m genuinely afraid of writing for another character in fear of portraying their characters inaccurately? Yes so for now enjoy some more bakugou lol

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 07.18.2020✐

“Cheers!” You exclaimed along with your friends, all of you clinking your glasses together.

Mina sighed as she took a sip from her drink. “Man, I can’t remember the last time we met up like this!”

Uraraka nodded, grinning from ear to ear as her cheeks reddened under the dim lights of the tavern. “It’s so nice to see you all here today.”

“Too bad the other girls couldn’t join,” you said, a frown on your face as your face grew hot from the alcohol.

“Momo, Toru, and Tsuyu have early patrols tomorrow,” Jirou said.

Mina snickered, latching onto your arm. “I’m surprised Bakugou let us hang out with you, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at her, gesturing to the table beside you with a shaky finger. “He’s right there, Mina. It’s not like he’s keeping me from you guys or anything. I’m just another busy hero like the rest of us here.”

It had been five years since you and the rest of class A graduated from U.A. Slowly yet surely each of you worked diligently to make your way up the rankings, especially the Big Three of your class, Midoriya, Todoroki, and your fiance Bakugou who you had been dating since your first year in U.A.

“I can’t believe you guys have been together for so long!” Uraraka exclaimed, giggling at the sight of the boys’ table which was chaotically louder than any other table at the tavern. Kirishima had to hold Bakugou back as Sero and Kaminari were teasing him, egging him on to amuse themselves as they knew their easily angered friend all too well. Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya, who were the only ones who were able to make it amongst the other boys, had left early as they had to work early in the morning, not wanting to risk drinking too much.

You hiccuped, leaning onto Mina’s shoulder as the effects of the alcohol slowly ran through your system. Jirou laughed at the sight. “I forgot how much of a lightweight you were.”

You narrowed your brows at her. “I’m not a lightweight!”

You sat up straight, grabbing your glass in hand and raising it to your lips. “I can drink so much!”

The girls attempted to stop you from consuming anymore alcohol but it was too late; you had downed the rest of your drink, slamming the cup onto the table as you had to breathe heavily just to catch your breath.

Bakugou, who had finally calmed down from his friends’ teasing and prodding, glanced over to your table as he noticed you had guzzled your fifth drink in a short amount of time. It was only a matter of time before your drunken stupor would overtake your judgement and behavior and Bakugou could only groan as he began to recall how the countless amount of migraines he got after dealing with your drunkenness.

“I’m gonna head out,” Bakugou said, slipping his coat on and placing a few bills onto the table to pay for your meal and his.

“Aw, come on! You just got here!” Kaminari complained.

“Y/N’s almost shitfaced and it’s getting late,” Bakugou said, giving his short and brief goodbyes to his friends.

“Where’s she going?” Kirishima asked, pointing to your wobbly figure walking over to the other side of the tavern. The girls tried to catch up with you but were blocked by the numerous people who were packed into the vicinity.

“That shitty girl…” Bakugou mumbled, making his way through the crowd as he didn’t hesitate to shove his way through.

You stumbled on your feet, bumping into the person in front of you. You rubbed your head, apologizing to the person. “Sorry.”

The man looked down at you, annoyed that someone had ran into him until a smirk crept up his face as he recognized who you were. “You’re that pro, (H/N), right?”

You nodded slowly, grinning aimlessly at him as you could barely keep up with the loud and raucous atmosphere. “Mhm, that’s meee!”

The man took a step towards you and you took one back, slightly intimidated and bothered by how close he was trying to get. He managed to corner you to a wall right outside the restrooms, which was where you were trying to go initially. He rested his hand right above your head, making you uncomfortable with the proximity of his figure with yours. “What’s a little lady like you doing here alone?”

“She’s not alone, dipshit,” Bakugou said from behind him, grabbing the man by the arm and shoving him to the side.

Before the man could try and pick a fight with the infamous brash hero, one of his friends stepped up, pulling the man by the arm. “Dude, don’t you know Ground Zero and (H/N) have been dating forever?! You can’t just hit on her!” He informed the creepy man in a low and harsh tone. The friend turned to you and Bakugou, bowing his head apologetically. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know how to act sometimes.”

Bakugou scoffed at the two men as they walked away, agitated beyond a reasonable doubt about a stranger trying to make a move on you. You grinned up at your fiance. “Thank you, Katsu,” you slurred, extending his name with a hiccup.

Bakugou sighed, shaking his head. “I really can’t take you anywhere can I?”

You ignored his comment, as you grabbed Bakugou’s hand. “You know, what that guy did was weird when he did it but… I wanna do it!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Look,” you said, raising your hands to Bakugou’s forearms as you pushed him to the wall. He stared down at you in confusion, the feeling diminishing as he grew amused by your actions. You brought your hands up to either side of him, putting him into a kabedon.

“Am I intimidating?” You slurred, laughing at yourself as you were convinced you were just as menacing in this position as the strange man was when he forced you in the same situation.

A few women on their way to the bathroom giggled at the sight before them, one of them taking pictures of the famous hero couple. Bakugou rested his hands on your shoulders as you were much shorter than he was. “Y/N, you’re the last person on this goddamn planet that I’d be scared of.”

You jutted your bottom lip out, looking up at him disappointedly as you were somehow drunkenly convinced you were intimidating. “Really?”

“Really.” Bakugou pushed you forward gently, bringing your arms down to your side. “Come on, we’ve gotta get home.”

“But I don’t wanna!” You whined, shaking your head.

“I don’t care. You’re already fucking drunk, let’s go.”

“Wait.” You straightened up, walking into the bathroom. “Let me pee first.”

Bakugou sighed, leaning against the wall. “Fine. Hurry up.”

Bakugou could see from the opposite end of the room his friends’ laughing expressions as he was placed in another weird situation thanks to your drunkenness. He flipped them off as they were taking videos themselves. Even the girls were laughing at the sight of your attempt at a kabedon, one that they were looking forward to teasing you about.

Bakugou ignored them, waiting and waiting for you to come out. After some time you still hadn’t returned from your bathroom break and he pulled out his phone, sending you a ‘what’s taking so long’ text.

You quickly responded with a ‘I’m not leaving’ text, one that was filled with numerous spelling errors in which Bakugou could barely understand what you were trying to say.

Bakugou closed his eyes as you had successfully annoyed him like you usually did. Fortunately, Mina approached him as she could see how agitated he was, as if there was invisible smoke rising from his ears.

“Need some help?” She asked.

“That shitty girl’s not getting outta there,” Bakugou muttered.

Mina snickered. “It’s been almost eight years and she still knows how to push your buttons.”

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest as he waited again, watching as Mina entered the bathroom. He could hear your whining and complaining as Mina quite literally dragged you out of the stall.

“Go home!” Mina exclaimed, pinching your cheek as you continued to express how you wanted to stay and spend more time with your friends. Mina said her goodbyes to both you and Bakugou before returning to the table with the girls.

Bakugou sighed as he turned to you, the alcohol now taking its full effect on you as you felt as light as a feather. “I’m not gonna hear another word from you. We’re going home.”

You glared up at him. “Fine.”

Bakugou, who was glad to finally have been able to get you to leave, proceeded through the crowd, wanting to make way for you until you grabbed his wrist, ceasing his movements. “What is it?” He asked, wondering why you stopped him this time.

You grinned, raising your arms up. “Carry me!”

Bakugou smiled softly at you, swiftly hooking his arms under your knees and around your back as he held you in his arms. Since the day you first met, you never failed to give him a headache and aggravate him to no end. But he knew he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side.

After all this time, you were still making him fall for you just like you did when you were high schoolers.

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winter-fox-queen · 4 years ago

Text

We all Deserve a Fairy Tale Chp. 2

(Photo not mine, I found it on Pinterest....maybe @softpedropascal‘s?)

Thank you all for being so awesome about my first chapter! I am not sure where this is going, I just wanted to write a fairy tale with our darling Frankie.

I pronoun, reader insert, not gender neutral - I make a smart remark and mention the gender, but it is only once if you can ignore it. No use of names or y/n. Pretty clean, not even any cursing! :P

Summary: In our last Chapter, our author (you) is bored to death while trying to do an author signing at a bookstore. Frankie comes in and gives you some badly needed sunshine, and leaves...and then...

Chapter Two: In which our Hero is gentle and awkward and our heroine tries not to outdo him.

It was about an hour and a half later. The door opened, I did my straighten up and look like I was successful and interesting routine, my smile warming when I realized Frankie maybe Franklin maybe Francisco had returned.

He pulled his…my…book out of the shopping bag and held it up. A piece of napkin showed that he was a good chunk of the way through. “This is really good, so I thought, hey, why not buy the sequel while the author is in town.”

“That’s lovely! I am always in town, though,” I drop in and try not to wince at how smooth that wasn’t.

He looked at me earnestly. He reminded me of a forest animal. I wondered if I poured some m&m’s into my hand and held it out if I could get him to step closer. No sudden moves, woman. You’ll scare him off.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at me, and I realized I’d been wool gathering instead of actually, you know, trying to make a sale. “So, which one is the sequel…?”

I flushed and tapped a book. “The other one is related, but different people.”

“Huh. OK.” He picked one of each and placed them gently in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, as I racked my brain for something to perfect to write. But everything sounder like I was a creeper, so I simply signed one, and the second, I wrote, Thank you for making my day.

He picked them up carefully.

“Here, wait…let me give you my business card, and some book marks…that way if you want to tell me what you thought. And if you want to you know, keep in touch. I mean, I have a newsletter. If you want to se what else I’ve got going on.” I capped my blathering with my brightest smile.

His smile had grown more and more as I talked, that perfect dimple reappearing, and he tapped the business card against the cover of his book. “Maybe I will. I mean, how many people can brag that they know an author and can email her and ask her questions about her book?”

“Pretty much everyone,” I say, because I cannot shut up.

He laughed.

I didn’t care if I never sold another book at that store again, that laugh was worth it. I felt a shaky happiness flutter against my ribs.

“Alright,” he said, looking at me. He was looking at me a little sideways, under his lashes, and I wondered if he knew how devasting that look was. “I better go.”

“You are keeping me from my legions of adoring fans,” I pointed out.

He chuckled at this. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re amazing.”

“OK,” I said, because I am so very good with words.

He shuffled a little, and nodded goodbye at me as he went and bought the last of my books.

If he looks back you’ll see him again, if he looks back you’ll see him again if he looks back…

He put his hand on the door and pushed, and just as he stepped outside, he did it. He looked back, and he smiled at me.

“Score.” I said, out loud after the door shut and he was crossing the street to an old red truck.

The clerk sniggered at me.

And hour and a half more later, I was cleaning up. Packing my stuff…getting my money from the clerk, helping her fold the table, rolling my stuff out to the car.

“Time to eat my profits,” I say as I drive to the nearest diner.

I go inside. To the left, a man in a familiar worn cap is reading a book and slowly eating. Oh my God. He’s going to think I’m stalking him.

A waitress comes over. “Booth, or do you want to sit at the counter?”

I sneak a look. Frankie looks up. His eyes widen. He smiles. I smile back. “Booth,” I mutter.

“Follow me.” She says and heads right.

I am the one shuffling this time, uncertain of what direction to go. I take a breath, go left.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.” I say.

“What? No tracking chip in the book?” He opens it and shakes it. Gentle. Like he respects the book and does not want to damage it. Could he be any more perfect?

“Nope, only the big presses can afford that.” I deadpan.

“Miss, where are you sitting?” the waitress asks.

“Here.” Frankie answers for me, and then he blushes and says. “I mean, if you want, I’d love for you to join me.”

“That’d be awesome. I’ve already read all the books I brought with me.”

The waitress takes a paper placemat and wrapped utensils and places them a little harder than needed as I sit down.

“I don’t think she realizes that I’m a best selling author.” I lean forward and whisper.

“I don’t think she’d be impressed by anything. She could find a bomb under the counter and she’d just shrug it off. Have you seen her eyes? I was in the army and I ain’t never seen eyes that cold.”

“You were in the army?” He looked to…gentle. But I looked at him again, and I could see it. The chipping around the edges.

He nods. “I was a pilot.”

“Awesome. Then I know who I can ask for all sorts of details about being a pilot for my next book.”

He nods, his cheeks pinken, but I can tell he’s just so pleased at the idea. I feel like I’ve handed him the biggest compliment.

“So, you’re gonna have a pilot in your next book?” He puts the book aside finally, concentrates on me.

“I am now,” I say.

His smile grows, and the skin around his eyes crinkles so damned prettily. “Nice,” he says, his voice deep and soft and just a little promising.

Dear Diary, I think. Today I was smooth. Thank you God for helping me deliver that line.

“Tell me something that makes you happy,” I say as I grab a menu and try to decide what to get.

He’s carefully putting the book away. “Reading. Being outside. My friends. You?”

I blink. “Umm. Nice men reading my books? Um. The outdoors…yes. I’ve always wanted to go on a long road trip, just see everything?”

He fiddles with his fork, stares down at his plate. I realize if I want to know anything more, I’ll have to do most of the talking. I’m better throwing words down on paper, but I wanted, needed to know more.

“Do you still fly?”

He looked up, his tea-colored eyes clouding over. “No. I work at the airfield, though. I’m a mechanic.”

“So you fix broken birds?”

He seems to take this in. I think he likes the idea, he smiles a little. I imagine those large hands competently working on an engine, or smoothing across the side of a plane.

“Enough about me. I’m boring.” He says. “Tell me about you? Why do you write?”

We talk for a bit, exchange the normal facts – what do you like to read? What do you like to watch on TV? And he parries anything deeper. But I like him. I like his sunshine smile and crinkling eyes and expressive hands and gentle voice.

We talk long enough that I am convinced the waitress hates us and we leave a huge tip to make up for it.

Outside the diner, he walks me to my car. “That was nice,” he says.

“Yes. It really was. If you are ever bored, I’d be happy to do it again sometime.”

He smiles shyly, nods once, and says, softly. “Later.”

I get into my car, and try not to stare at him as he gets in his truck, pulls out. He rolls down his window and waves at me. I wave back, and I think, well. There goes my heart.

And then I laugh at myself for being a stupid romantic goofball. I write a bit of romance, I daydream it…it’s a comforting fairy tale. I knew it wasn’t real.

But as I watched him drive away in his beat up red pickup, I found myself really hoping it was.

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #We all deserve a fairy tale

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kinglarrykoopadx · 4 years ago

Text

Ranking the bosses of Origami King

I have stated many many MANY times that Origami King is my favorite Paper Mario, hell, one of my favorite games of all time. And if some lunatic waltzes into my house and gives me a choice of either liking TTYD or die, I’d rather be dead. But what’s the worst and best boss in the game? Today, we’re gonna rank all the bosses in Origami King. Also, it is recommended that you finish the game to view this post, cause this is a spoiler zone.

17. The Shifty Sticker, Tape

The most annoying and unfun boss to cap off a great tribute to Wind Waker fans, all the positives Tape got was having a bopping as hell music and a really great 1st phase. But that’s where the positives end, cause the 2nd phase is where it all goes downhill. Tape glues parts of the ring meaning you can’t slide panels and some parts of the rings are connected together. And when a lot of tapes are in the ring at once, it’s pretty annoying. And this may just be me, but when there’s too much tape in the arena, Tape straight up gobbles up the tape in the arena to restore HP and it is annoying as fudge. Oh and did I mention that to damage this boss, you’re forced to use the 1000 fold arms? And did I mention that any other form of offense is next to useless? Needless to say, this is one of the worst bosses I’ve had the pain to endure.

16. The Freezing Finisher, Ice Vellumental

The first phase of Snowy The Bear over here is surrounded by an icy forcefield and you must use the Fire Vellumental to melt down his barrier which is, pretty alright for a first phase (I mean your sliding is not locked this time so that’s a plus), but then, there’s Ice Maze to make up for all that fun. For those of you unknowing fools out there, Ice Maze is an ability of this guy where large parts of the arena are covered in ice, and the only way to get through it is find a way to the Action Panel or an active Fire Vellumental Magic Circle without being frozen so you (kinda) won’t have to endure his greatest attack, Ice Age. Problem is, that even for me, who has a strong memory, I can’t seem to solve it. Why this is less dreaded than Tape for me despite the monotony is that you can kinda cheese it without Fire Vellumental. By collecting coins, you can stock on Shiny Fire Flowers and basically fireball this boss to death (and they said coins are useless). Even so fuck this fight man.

15. The Blazing Bird, Fire Vellumental

This phoenix right here is possibly the smartest of the Vellumentals. Why is that, you ask? Easy. He lets you damage yourself. Using his special move, Hot Wings, he basically spreads his own wings (which takes a chunk of his health) and lets you damage yourself until you reach an Action Panel. Once you’re in the Action Panel, use your Iron Boots and jump the shit outta him until his feathers are all/almost gone. Then, use Water Vellumental to shower it to its doom, and lastly, for the coup de grace, pull off his hair and humiliate him in front of a bunch of Toads. The only reason this chicken wing is higher is because jumping him with Iron Boots is as fun, if not more fun than using the Fireballs to cheese the Ice Vellumental.

14. The Apocalyptic Abomination, Paper Mistake Buzzy Beetle

By far the most gruesome thing in Paper Mario franchise, it starts off with you hammering the Dry Bone heads it spews out using Kamek’s magic. Then, after enough heads were smashed, Kamek reveals himself and you have to pull him outta the beetle’s nose which is more satisfying than it should be. And then after that, you smash him in the gut 4 times to win. Needless to say, it had its moments.

13. The Elastic Entertainer, Rubber Band

4 numbers later and we are back to the Legion Of Stationary. This time, it’s Rubber Band. While I can see why people like this boss, keep in mind I’m doing all these on a no Game Over run, which makes the boss less fun for me. The Bumper Bands are a mere nuisance, but get caught in Rubber Bind and kiss your health goodbye. Solo Snapback isn’t much better either, for that attack, pray you have a 1 Up left or at the very least can endure that attack or say goodbye to your health. However, despite doing this on a no Game Over run is hell, why is it this high though? you may ask, well, simply put, the Rubber Bands are better projectiles than the Hot Wings, Icicles, and Tape combined.

12. The Chaotic Cactus, Mega Paper Macho Pokey

Tower Power Pokey is back, but this time, he’s made some changes to the battlefield. Now, instead of fighting in some egyptian temple, you fight him inside of a tornado. This segmented spiky monstrosity has 3 attacks. Creating tornadoes, stalking you from underground, and trying to squash you with its body. This time, to defeat him, instead of using some Baseball Bat sticker bullshit, you must wait until his glow fades and approach him with the Boot Car so you can deliver the smackdown. And, pro tip : if I were you, I wouldn’t get caught in the twisters.

11. The Groundshaking Gut-Slammer, Earth Vellumental

God to all Koopas, the Earth Vellumental is pretty fun for a tutorial boss. You use your hammers to smash its limbs till eventually you hit its tender tail, and it’s more fun than it had any right to be. Once the tail is pounded to perfection, flip it with your 1000 fold arms and smack the living daylights out of it.

10. The Trial Of Toughness, Scuffle Island Boss Rush

An optional boss accessible in Chapter 4, the Scuffle Island Boss Rush is fun for a miniboss rush. You get 7 tough Paper Macho opponents ; Goomba, Shy Guy, Koopa, Boo, Paratroopa, Stone Spike, and Buzzy Beetle, each bearing 2 more hitpoints than the ordinary Paper Macho enemies and having a large attack boost. It’s a test of learning the patterns of the Paper Machos and is way more fun than it has any right to be. Although the Paratroopa did gave me some troubles, like, seriously, if you beat this guy’s 1st phase without a guide, you’re a pro.

9. The Stormy Guardian, Boss Sumo Bro

A clever reference to NSMBU and Super Mario World, Boss Sumo Bro stands on his mighty thundercloud at first, until you take out his goonies. Then, once you’re done with his goons, he’ll charge up his unblockable Mega Thunder attack and to stop it, you must use the Fire Vellumental to take him down. It’s admittedly pretty fun.

8. The Missile Maestro, Colored Pencils

One of the most fun tutorial bosses, Colored Pencils has a simple but really fun 1st phase. You have to close its lid to pull off a Fire Vellumental, and on the 2nd phase, it gets better. You have to use his Rainbow Roll against him and smack the living daylights out of him. It’s a great boss, buut problem is, it’s a tutorial boss. It had not much of a chance to make it to the top 5.

7. The Final Destination, Paper Plane Strike Force

This game consists of you shooting a bunch of Bob Ombs to pave the way to the final level of the game Origami Castle, which is, much sadder than it may seem. It’s fun as heck shooting down the paper planes, and the Squadron where you have to shoot like a million Bob Ombs to its face is by far personally the most fun part of the game. Why it’s this low is that it’s one of the 2 non-rematchable bosses. Once you’ve gotten to Origami Castle, this minigame won’t be accessible anymore.

6. The Submarine Sinker, Water Vellumental

This overhydrated water dragon is one of the more strategic bosses. You must take note of the water twisters and prevent them from getting in your way of making it to the Action panel to jump him and hit him with the hammer. And then, once he’s gonna blow, make your way to the Earth Vellumental Magic Circle to dodge his Mega Wave attack, which is pretty powerful. It’s personally one of the more fun bosses this game had to offer. It’s not in the top 5 since the water twisters can be pretty annoying though I never had a problem with them personally.

5. The Disco Devil, Hole Punch

The groovy lobotomiser’s 1st phase is pretty annoying, you have to find his tender spot to deal decent damage to him, while having a reduction in health, but slamming the ever loving shit outta him when he tried to pull off his special attack is fun as hell. It makes up for the horrid 1st phase. And pulling off the rubber case as the finisher is waaayyy more fun than it needs to be. Also the music is a freaking jam.

4. The Tentacley Terror, Paper Macho Gooper Blooper

This Mario Sunshine nostalgia fest is hella fun. The 1st phase has you hammering his tentacles which is way more fun than it should be, and the 2nd phase has you hammering his eye, which is, again, way more fun than it should be. This boss is just really, REALLY fun.

3. The Dual Bladed Duelist, Scissors

One of the harder and more intense bosses, Scissors’ first phase is putting on a case for his blades for the sake of a fair fight, but once that’s done, it’s all intense, bloodpumping action from here. Scissors will use his unblockable special attack, Final Cut, and you must time your jumps to prevent an instant KO. I felt a strong urge of satisfaction when jumping over Scissors’ special attack countless times, it’s not even a laughing matter.

2. The Roshamboa, Handaconda

The first phase has you hammering him to get Olivia out of its grasp, and then, the 2nd phase is where the true fun begins. The Magic Circles are swapped with panels with images of Rock, Paper and Scissors and you must observe his hand patterns to get a chance to rush attack him with the 1000 fold arms. It feels so satisfying when you beat him in Roshambo and smash the living daylights out of him.

1. The Royal Rebel, King Olly

One of the best final bosses of all time, Olly is a culmination of what you have learned throughout your journey. The 1st phase consist of you retracing the weaknesses of the Vellumentals and using it against them, the 2nd phase consists of you slamming the ground to give Origami Bowser a helping hand in dealing the semi finishing blow towards Duraludon Olly, and the final phase has you fixing a jumbled up Giant Magic Circle while Olly bombards you with attacks that lead to quicktime events that are way more fun and dramatic than they had any right to be. Needless to say, Olly is the best boss in the Origami King.

#paper mario the origami king #boss rankings #handaconda #king olly #rubber band #tape #colored pencil #vellumentals #paper mario #hole punch #boss sumo bro #scissors #fuck thousand year door

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ifliamsmile · 5 years ago

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Days Gone ll Dick Grayson Imagine CH1

Summary: Reader’s powers try to warn her that something bad is coming up while Dick has to travel to a Justice League mission and something terrible happens.

Pairing/Relationship: Married!Dick Grayson x Titan!Wife!Reader

Warnings: ***100% angst***, i cried while writing it so..If you like angst, you’re hopefully going to like it too.

**y/sn= your nickname

It was going to be one of those days.

You felt it by the way that the rain covered San Francisco. The feeling in your chest wasn’t clear but you recognized it as the same feeling you felt in the day your parents died when you were just a kid.

The rain fell non-stop as you looked through the window of your and Dick’s shared room. You were still in your pajamas when the boy entered the room, he had woken up earlier as usual to check the tower and the team, leaving more time for you to sleep.

“Hey, gorgeous, how you’re doing this morning?” You heard your husband’s voice; you turned to look at him, only to find him staring at you with half smile on his face, the same one that used to bring you peace, but now, not even it could take the bad feeling out of your chest.

“Good Morning, love” you smiled at him “So do you think i’m still gorgeous even with a sleepy face and my pajamas?” you pushed him by the the collar of his famous social blue shirt that you loved so much.

“You’re always going to be the prettiest woman ever” he caressed your hair with his hand leaving the free hand to place it in your waist “I love you”

“I love you, Grayson.” You answered him with a hint of sadness in your voice.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dick asked you

“I don’t know, Dick, something’s wrong. My powers aren’t making it clear to me so I can’t see what exactly will happen but it’s unquiet here, you know? My mind is as misty as today’s sky and I don’t have a good feeling, not at all.” He listened to you carefully as he always did, so compreensive.

“Maybe you just have to wait, baby. They will make you understand better when it’s time, i’m sure. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, right?”

“You, protector of Blüdhaven, Gotham City and San Francisco will keep me safe? Well, I feel honored.” You mocked him trying to ease the tension. “I’ll be fine baby, as long as you’re with me."

He smiled tenderly at you.

“I came here to tell you something” he said, changing the subject

“What’s up?” You asked him

“Clark and Diana called. They need me in Washington to help the Justice League.” He told you. That same feeling you were harbouring this morning came rushing back and settled in your chest, heavier this time. Your expression changed immediately.

“Dick..” you breath deeply, looking down and his hands run to your face.

“Hey, just one mission and I’ll be back, Bruce will be there.” he said

“Tell them you can’t go, tell them we will need you tonight here in San francisco.. just please, don’t go” He felt the fear in your voice as you tried to make him stay. You would never ask him to decline a misson but it wasn’t a normal kind of situation.

“Listen, I know what you’re feeling and I don’t think you should ignore it. But I can’t decline a call from Clark, he wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important..It’s Clark, I can’t do this to him.”

You felt your eyes watered and you looked down.

“ I don’t want this bad feeling to be about you because.. I wouldn’t bare losing you, Richard” You said in a small voice.

“I’ll call you every minute i’m free to tell you that I’m okay. Hey” he lifted your face with his finger “I’ve done this many times, and I came back, I always came back to you.” He said softly caressing your cheek

“You better do that" You did your best to keep a serious face, but when he kissed you you instantly melted.

------

Dick packed what he needed with your help, he got his suitcase and his favourite jacket and walked down towards the elevator.

“Promise me you won’t get too worried, alright? I love you” Dick said touching his forehead with yours.

“Be carefull, Wing, I Love you too”

The brown haired guy kissed you deeply and waved goodbye to the others too.

“Bye, guys, be careful, see you soon.”

“Bye Dick” Rachel replied.

The doors of the elevator closed and you took a deep breath while Donna put a hand in your shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s watch some GOT, girls time” and you both made your way to her bedroom.

You and Donna binged watched almost the entire first season. You glanced at your watch thinking it was almost time for Dick to arrive in Washington and as if your thoughts were connected, your phone started vibrating and his smiley face appeared on the screen.

“Hey Donn, it’s Dick calling, be right back.” You told the black haired woman who was still watching TV and didn't even pay attention to you.

“Hey, I just landed and now i’m on my way to meet the league.” Dick said.

“Hey, Wing, how was the trip? All fine?” you asked him

“I just feel a tightness in my heart, you know?” He said and you tense “It’s because I miss you” he laughed.

“You’re an ass, you know?” you laughed along with him.

“It's true” you heard his deep breath “I wish you could be here”

“Me too”

“Babe, i’m already in the league’s base. I’ll call you before we leave to the mission, alright?”

“Alright, be careful.” you replied.

“Love you"

Hearing that he was okay was a relief, maybe your bad feeling was about something else, you hoped. You entered Donna’s bedroom and found her on her feet ready to leave the room.

“Hey Donn, wanna train?” You asked her.

“Let’s go, so I can kick your ass” she mocked you.

“As if you could” you laughed.

---

It was already night and you have just finished cleaning the kitchen. You, Donna, Dawn and Rachel were having a girl’s talk when you heard your phone ringing.

“I’ll be back in a minute, girls” you told them.

“Hey, bird boy” you said.

“Hey, babe. Just wanted to update. We're about to leave for the mission. It’s the Legion of Doom, they’re causing panick in Washington. Just called to say that i love you”

“Couldn’t they give a break? Damn.. go there and end them. I love you so and watch out.”

“I will, don’t worry, see ya soon” he said softly an you hung up.

The next morning, you woke up earlier. It was 5am when you got up. Normally you’d wake up later than Dick, but something was wrong and it disturbed you so much that you couldn’t get a decent night of sleep.

You glanced at your phone looking for a message from Dick or even a call but nothing. Maybe things were bigger and they took more time to solve it. You’d wait.

It was night when you and Hank were training Gar and Rose on an intense class of martial arts. Your mind was somewhere else and you were doing your best but Hank knew you well enough to notice.

“Hey, Y/n. You got your head in the clouds?” he asked you smiling.

“I’m sorry, guys, Let’s do it again, I’m here now” you smiled weakly and you all returned to training.

Later that night, when the training was already over, you took a bath and went to the living room, he should be coming back home, you wished he was, so you kept waiting.

No call, no message, no nothing. It wasn’t like you were obsessed but it wasn’t normal of Dick to wait this long to text you, even more so when he knew how you were feeling when he left. It was weird and you tried to think he was okay, he was just busy.

You ended up sleeping on the couch waiting for him. the next morning, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you woke up wishing you could see his figure, but it was just Rachel, who was worried about you.

“Hey, y/n, why don’t you go to bed?”

“Hey Rache” You smiled at her “I just fell asleep here”

“He’s not back yet, but i'm sure he’s just doing he’ll be back soon.” She talked about her mentor with pride and you smiled at her keeping the your thoughts to yourself. She didn’t need to know or worry about it.

4 days later

You were getting crazy

Five days had passed with no news about Dick. You knew something was wrong,you just couldn't quite put your finger on it. You tried to call Bruce many times, but he never answered.

It was like they had disappeared.

Night came without any news either, and the titans were reunited in the the room before the training. Rachel and Gar were inside their room, hopefully studying, while the others were talking about life like you all used to do.

You were trying to keep your mind out of it and think that he was okay, because after all, that’s what he asked you to do.

Suddenly, the elevator doors opened, and you stood up with a sight of hope that it was Dick who came back from Washington, but it revealed someone else: Bruce Wayne. He looked at you specifically, you didn’t know what to expect or what to say.

“Hey, Bruce. What’s up?” You heard Jason’s voice and Bruce kept a serious look on his face.

“Hey, Bruce. I tried to call you but i didn’t get an answer, where’s Dick?” You asked him, waiting for what he had to say.

“I...I’ve tried to figure out a way to tell you that...” He seemed to be out of words “Dick is dead Y/n, I’m sorry” he said looking in your eyes.

You stood there in silence, trying to understand what you had just heard.

“What do you mean?” It was the only thing you were able to say.

“He got shot in the head, Y/n. I’m truly sorry. He’s gone” He had an apologetic look on his face. His voice seemed so far from you

He is gone.

Your chest felt heavy. As if someone had dropped a ton of bricks on top of you, cutting the air from reaching your lungs. You finally understood what Bruce meant.

Dick died.

Your realised you were crying when you tasted the salt of your tears.

“No...” you tried to ignore the lump that formed in your throat. “No, he- he left for a mission and he should be back by now. You were with him, and now you tell me that he is gone!?” You asked in desbelief.

“How dare you coming here and telling me that my husband is dead?” You spoke a little louder, you got closer to him now to face him;

“I’ve been waiting for him to come back home for 5 days, can you understand it? I’ve waited for him to come back, to see him or hear his voice and I got nothing, Bruce, how could you let it happen?” you screamed at the man, you were in too much pain to care about anything

You felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Jason trying to show you some support, he was also crying, the other titans were too shocked to react.

“I’m truly sorry” Bruce didn’t know how to tell you this, he tried to come earlier but he was too hurt, just like you “I brought you this box with all his things” he left a box on the table and left.

The whole situation was too much, your mind tried to process while your body couldn’t answer and the feeling in your heart was of hundreds of knives stabbing it.

Dick wasn’t coming back home anymore.

When the man left, all you could do was cry, you couldn’t move, so you stood there. Jason guided you to the couch so you could sit. The room was silent, they were also trying to digest such horrible news. Jason brought you the box, it was the only thing you received.

You took the box and thanked Jason, you needed to breath, you needed to be alone to understand, but the truth was you just wanted to run and find him. You wanted to believe it wasn’t true and that any moment now he would walk through the door saying he was finally back.

“I’m sorry guys, i...” You said trying to excuse to leave to your bedroom.

“Don’t worry take your time” Donna said, she understood what you were feeling because she also lost the love of her life.

You nodded and left with the box in your hands.

When you got in the bedroom, you were broken. Every little thing you looked remind you of him. His smell was still there. You grabbed the box and opened it.

It was extremely painful, but it was the only thing he left before dying.

All of his clothes were inside; the jacket he wore when he left. You pulled it to your chest, hugging it hoping that the numbness would go away.

His wedding ring was also there, he used to take it off to wear the suit. You cried your heart out. You just wanted him back.

You started getting tired, it was too much for your body to take, so you slept attached to his jacket.

“Save me, y/n, save me” Dick said with blood streaming down his head.

“Tell me what I can do, Dick, I’ll save you” you cried trying to hold him.

“You can’t” He said disappearing.

Kory woke up when she heard you screaming. She ran to your bedroom, finding you asleep, disturbed by nightmares.

“y/n wake up, it’s just a nightmare.” She told you trying to shake you awake. You were covered in sweat and panting.

“Kory” You hugged her, now crying

“Shh, calm down, it’s okay”

“He asked me to save him, Kory, I couldn’t and now he’s dead”

“Listen to me, it wasn’t your fault. if you want to blame someone, blame the person who killed him, okay? You need to sleep, you’ve been through a lot.”

You nodded at her and before she left she hugged you. You were thankful for friends like Kory.

Days passed t and the grief was taking over you, little by little. The nightmares never stopped and the numbness never left you.

You were in the rooftop watching the sunset; you breathed deeply accepting the air from the cold breeze of San Francisco in your lungs before releasing it.

“Hey Dick” you were talking to the sky in a hope that he could hear you.

“I’m lost” You try to hold your tears “When you left, you took everything with you. The abscence of you is everywhere I look. It’s like a huge hole have been ripped through my chest and the pain only reminds me that you are not here anymore.” tears streamed down your face;

“Wherever you are Wing; know that you are safe in my heart.”

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing #nightwing x y/n #dc nightwing #brenton thwaites #brenton thwaites imagines

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laheyyisaac · 4 years ago

Text

Overdue

chapter 1 — american legion

SUMMARY: Guinevere Bailey just moved to McKinney, TX in order to figure out her life. She meets Captain Hank Syverson at the local library, and she finds out she might have bitten off more than she can chew. PAIRING: Syverson x OFC WORD COUNT: 1299 A/N: hii! first fic here! just now starting. i’m going to be making a graphic for it if i can when i get back to my computer back home. inspired and encouraged by @promptandpros, so this first chapter’s for you, babe. thanks so so much to @alyxkbrl for reading over this one! if you’d like to be added to my tags list, please IM or inbox me! TAGS: @promptandpros @alyxkbrl @completelybonkersentirelymad @mylifefallingupthestairs @kissthatlifeaway @dangerouslovefanfic PART 2

“Where’s Carly-Jean? Gwen, have you seen her?”

Guinevere Bailey glanced up from her cart of books, eyes wide as she sat down the one she was shelving. She shook her head, and her coworker nodded, zipping off to the next person. It had been a long day today, mostly filled with library patrons who were less than excited about some new feature they had rolled out.

She had worked at her little library in McKinney, Texas for two years now. Gwen had been a former resident of Dallas, TX, and the significantly smaller McKinney was well received. Moving there had been the best thing she’d done, and she was only a 30 minute drive from Dallas anyway.

Her family was more sad than upset, and she made a habit to visit the house she’d lived in for twenty some odd years every now and again. Just to get filled up on casserole and the like. She’d left, mostly, because of her family. She’d desired to actually get away from them a bit more, so she’d moved out to Dallas proper when she was 20. Five years of that, and she had moved to McKinney. She was approaching 30 now, and she still had no idea what she wanted. Not really.

She supposed she could keep working with the library, but she wanted more. She had always wanted more. Sometimes she wanted the picket fence life with a baby on her hip. Other days she wanted to be a woman in charge of a career. Something exciting. Something boring. She wasn't sure what exactly she wanted yet. She was supposed to know. Thirty wasn't so far away.

"Gwen, go set up for the Veteran's thing in the auditorium." Her supervisor, Jerry, with his monotone and furrowed white brows, looked over at her, watching her zone out and, essentially, panic.

She nodded to soothe his fears, putting her books away happily and trudging towards the keys to grab the one's for the auditorium. It was short work, setting up the microphone and laptop for the PowerPoint. They were having someone talk today. Or rather, the American Legion was. Gwen didn't know. She only knew that they probably wouldn't know how to work the computer.

"Am I in the right spot?" Someone asked, and Gwen whipped her head around with a squeak at the sound.

He was handsome, well built, and very tall. His head was buzzed, but his beard was almost unkempt, long but...looking rather soft. Gwen struggled for words. Obviously, he was in the right spot. He was dressed in a rather nice uniform. He was an army man by the looks of him. She swallowed and finally spoke up when she noticed his brow quirked.

“Yeah. You’re in the right spot. Though, you’re about a half hour early.”

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders, putting hands on his hips. “Well, my mama always told me that being on time was being late. Guess I still listen to her from time to time.”

“Smart.”

He looked at her name tag briefly and extended his hand. “Hank Syverson,” he said, introducing himself. Or at least, Gwenn assumed he was introducing himself.

“Gwen Bailey. Nice to meet you, Mr. Syverson,” she replies, shaking his large hand.

He shakes his head and waves his other hand in a sign of distaste. “No. No. Just...just Sy. If you want. Don’t go by Hank much, and Mr. Syverson is my pa.”

She grins as he keeps a hold of her hand. It’s warm, and he’s fairly warm. If not a bit scraggly. She reluctantly releases his hand and looks around. “Well, Sy, it’s lovely to meet you. Hope to see you around sometime?”

The question was open ended. She didn’t know if he lived in McKinney or if he just… was here for this....talk.

“Yeah. You need help with anythin’? My mama’s outside gettin’ books for my nieces and nephews, and I don’t really wanna go look at kiddie books for the next half hour.”

“Sure! Sure. You can help me set up these chairs. You look strong enough.”

His laughter makes Gwen feel warm inside. “Yeah, that’s what I’m good for, anyhow.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were done, and all Gwen really had to do now was wait for the American Legion folk. While they worked, she and Sy had talked about a few things. He was a captain in the US Army. He’d been stationed in a great many places, namely Baghdad, and he was on leave for the foreseeable future. He didn’t say why, and she didn’t have the heart to ask, considering he looked rather forlorn about it.

“My mama’s happy about it. She was over the moon when I told her I was comin’ back. She expected me to move back to my place in Dallas, but I missed home. Missed my family. So I’m temporarily a man child, living with my parents.” He laughed at that, his laugh so easy and sweet.

“What about you?” He asked. “You a McKinney native, or…?”

“No,” Gwen said softly. “Not really. My mom and dad live outside Dallas. One of those big Texas lady mansion houses. I lived in Dallas for a bit, but I left. Not sure why. Just got tired of it.”

Sy nodded, as though he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe he knew exactly what she meant. “I get that. It gets monotonous sometimes. We need changes of scenery.”

“You’re weirdly prolific, you know it?”

“Yeah, I’m dumb enough to say smart shit sometimes.”

“I like it.” Gwen hadn’t intended to say it like that, but he smiled nonetheless. They sat down in the chairs they set up, sitting with two chairs between them. She looked over at him, sitting in companionable silence. After a few minutes, he decided to say something, opening his mouth.

“I was wondering if —” He was interrupted by the American Legion president, smiling and calling out his name.

“Hank Jr.! How are ya, boy?” He asked, and Gwen had to stifle a laugh. Sy was anything but a boy.

Sy stands and extends his hand, shaking with the president. His name was Jackson if Gwen remembered right. She was a little peeved at him, having been curious about what he’d been about to ask. Or say. Or anything.

She was at least hopeful this wouldn’t be the last time they’d see one another. She waved goodbye to Sy and spoke with Jackson for a moment, giving him all he’d need for his presentation. She felt Sy’s eyes on her back as she left.

A few hours later, Gwen was in the back, processing books. She rather liked the process, covering the books in dust jackets or tape to protect them. It was nice. Kinda fun too. She got into a rhythm, mind absent and thinking on Sy for the rest of the evening. He was nice. Genuine. Funny. Cute. All of the above. She wondered if she’d ever hear from him again. She cursed herself for not getting his number.

“Gwen?”

Gwen looked up at one of the clerks she worked with. Lacey. She was relatively young, younger than Gwen at least by a few years. Gwen gave her a smile and looked up, pausing her work for just a moment.

“That uhhh… guy who was at the American Legion thing…”

“Jackson?”

“No, the speaker guy. The younger one.”

“Yeah?” Gwen asked, unable to hide the anticipation in her voice.

“He left his number for you. I can throw it away if you want. I get dudes hitting on me all the time.”

“No! No, I’ll take it.” And Gwen plucked the paper from her hands, looking at the messy print. Sy. And then, 10 numbers that made her grin.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #syverson fic #syverson fanfiction #syverson #fanfiction #my writing.#mine.#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ok!!!! first fic!!#lmk what you think!!

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immodestmussorgskyy · 4 years ago

Text

campers anonymous

“Alright, everybody. Our meeting is in session!” Wraith gave the room a warm smile and rang his bell twice. “Let’s start with names? Trapper, how about you go first?”

A few audible sighs could be heard. Wraith could practically feel some of the eyerolls the killers were giving, most notably Ghostface and Legion, but remained optimistic.

Trapper wrung his hands nervously and looked around the room. Almost all of his fellow killers sat around him in a circle, except the ones that refused to attend. Even the ones that were wearing masks seemed to stare at him expectantly. He cleared his throat.

“Um, my name is Evan. But you guys know me as Trapper. I’ve been clean from camping for two trials now.”

“Hi, Evan.” came the monotone chorus of voices around him.

“Okay, your turn, Billy.” Wraith gestured towards the hulking and deformed creature sitting to his left.

“My name is Max. I…” he looked to the floor in shame. “I haven’t really stopped camping at all.” To everybody’s surprise, the chainsaw-toting maniac had a very polite and subdued voice.

“Hi, Max.” this time, the greetings were followed by some murmurs of consolation.

Everybody turned towards the Shape, who sat motionlessly in his chair. Nothing could be heard from him except for muffled breathing. Wraith wasn’t even sure why he came to the meeting. He never contributed, nor did he greet anybody or try to create a welcoming environment. Nobody pushed him to come to Campers Anonymous, but he showed up anyway. It was puzzling, to say the least.

“I know our friend the Shape here isn’t really comfortable with talking, so I’ll introduce him to you all. Everybody, this is Michael. I’m not sure how long he’s been camping--” said Wraith.

“Not at all, actually!” piped Spirit. “I mean, he used to, but ever since we had our last meeting, he’s been doing really well.” she offered the Shape a smile, which he did not return or acknowledge.

“Excellent! Well, everybody, say hi to Michael! Ghostface, how about you--”

“Hi, hello, whatever. My name is Danny, and I haven’t been clean from camping the hook at all, ever, because I don’t fucking camp.” Ghostface leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Nobody could see his expression behind his mask, but everybody knew that he had that signature why am I here, fuck all of you look on his face.

“Oh yeah? You don’t camp? Sitting in a bush next to the hook with your stupid shroud shit counts as camping, you dumbfuck.” Legion retorted viciously. “Why are you even here, anyway?”

“It’s called stalking, smart one.” Ghostface’s voice grew venomous as he flipped Legion the bird. “And I’m here so I can laugh at you amateurs that still get kills from camping.”

“Stalking, my ass. That is literally camping. The only difference is that you’re sitting in a bush like a complete kook.”

“Hey, why the fuck are you here, then? If you haven’t already noticed, you’re the only one from your little family that got invited here, because the rest of them are actually decent at killing.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Legion growled, springing from his chair with his hand on his knife. “If we could harm each other your guts would be all over the floor, you little bitch. And for the record, I’m here because I actually want to improve my skills and better myself. Bet you don’t know what that’s like at all.”

Ghostface scoffed and waved his knife in the air nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, King Frank. Keep crying. Somebody will change your diaper eventually.”

Legion gave an enraged scream and charged towards Ghostface, but was grabbed by the hood and pulled back by Trapper. Wraith gave him a look of gratitude.

“Didn’t I say no weapons at our CA meetings? Please, this is no place to fight. We’re all here to better ourselves.” he rubbed his nose in exasperation and prompted the others to continue.

The greetings went around the circle, even to Huntress and Plague, who had obvious language barriers. Plague was also sitting six feet outside the circle, coughing into a bloodstained handkerchief. She didn’t seem to mind the separation, every now and again enthusiastically contributing something that nobody could really understand.

“Our topic today is successes. Little victories. I know that camping can make us feel very isolated and guilty, but today we’ll share our stories of success. And if you don’t have any successes you can think of, tell us something positive about your last trial.” Wraith adjusted his glasses and gave another smile to the group. “Our discussion will be popcorn style today, friends. Just speak whenever you feel ready.”

Nobody spoke.

Finally, Nurse interrupted the long silence and cleared her throat. “I tried using three blinks instead of camping the hook in my last trial. Two people escaped, but I felt better that I didn’t camp them.” Some nods of approval went around the circle.

“Thank you for sharing, Sally. Anybody else?”

Spirit raised her hand. “I stopped camping a few trials ago and I’ve really improved my chasing skills. I think I’m doing a lot better with my phase walking abilities, too. I hope you all know what it’s like to not be a camper one day.” She rested her hands on her lap and gave everybody a proud smile.

“That’s great, Rin. I’m glad that you experienced that.” Wraith said warmly. “What about you, Frank?”

Legion shrugged. “I never really camped to begin with, but I’ve been trying to look for other survivors more instead of just patrolling the hooked ones. Nothing special about it, though.”

“Hey, that’s progress.” Nurse rasped. Legion gave her a nod.

Just then, a loud, metallic scraping could be heard from down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Plod, plod, screeeeech. Plod, plod, screeeech.

“Oh, great. That triangle-headed freak is going to join us.” grumbled Ghostface, who was shot an irritated glance by Wraith. The Executioner stopped and stood in the doorway.

“Pyramid Head! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, find a chair and have a seat.”

As if pondering his request, the Executioner tilted his massive pyramid head to the side, then plodded forward. A few of the killers flinched at the screeching of his blade on the floor, then jumped as he dropped it with a loud clang. He moved slowly and deliberately, pulling one of the small chairs from a stack in the corner of the room and forcing himself between Ghostface and Legion. The chair he was perched atop was dwarfed by his massive stature. Secretly, Wraith was glad the silent beast of a man was here. He would at least serve as a barrier between the two squabbling young men.

It was curious as to why the Executioner showed up to these meetings, too, considering the fact that his entire existence was dedicated to executing judgment against survivors. Wraith was surprised that he even cared enough about a survivor’s trial experience enough to come to a meeting about ending camping addictions. Like the Shape, he didn’t speak, but at least made low rumbling noises of agreement occasionally. It was sweet, in a bizarre way, that he at least enjoyed everybody’s company enough to sit in silence and spectate their group therapy.

“Do you have anything to share with us today?” Wraith said, offering him a cheerful smile. He always asked, even though the Executioner rarely gave him any acknowledgment or answer. But it was Wraith’s imperative that all killers deserved to be included, even if they didn’t have anything to contribute.

The monstrous man sat silently for a moment, then stood and retrieved his blade. He heaved it from the ground, dragged it with a loud screeeech between his and Ghostface’s chairs. The smaller killer huffed and glared at the back of his bloodstained helmet. The Executioner dragged it to the middle of the circle and held it out proudly towards Wraith, almost offering him the handle, its tip digging into the linoleum floor.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy, impossibly sharp edge of his blade was covered in fresh blood and viscera that could only be survivor guts.

“Oh? You’ve… gotten more kills?” Wraith guessed.

The Executioner nodded and motioned with his hands as if asking him to continue.

“You’ve gotten more moris?”

He nodded eagerly, resting the handle of his blade under his arm to clap in excitement. He mimed a crushing motion with one of his hands, then thrust it forward like he was stabbing something. Wraith beamed. It was exciting seeing one of the more shy killers get a little excited over their memento mori offerings. The Executioner dragged the blade behind him back to his seat and rested it gently on the ground next to his chair.

“Okay, well, this is boring as fuck and I have better things to be doing.” Ghostface sneered.

“Oh yeah? Like whacking off to pictures of people in the shower, you perv? Have fun.” Legion said.

“Listen, kid, I’m not going to tolerate more of your bullshit--”

The Executioner roared and grabbed each of the young men by their collars, shaking them violently. The two fell back into stunned silence as they were dropped back onto their seats. Hopefully, this would shut them up for a while.

“Uh… can I go now?” Oni said. Wraith nodded at him. “I haven’t stopped camping at all.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “But last trial I got to mori somebody right at the exit gate.”

“Were they the last one?” Trapper asked.

“Yeah. But they just hid the entire time and didn’t do any gens, so I figured their teammates wouldn’t really mind.”

“Nice.”

The rest of the killers went around and shared their stories. The positive developments made Wraith gleam on the inside. Only two meetings in and everybody was getting to know each other, even developing friendships, and even the shyer killers were beginning to speak up. Except the Shape, but nobody was really bothered by the silent man anymore. Soon, the clock on the wall read 12:30 and killers began giving their goodbyes and filing out of the room.

“Bye, suckers.” Ghostface hopped out of his chair, the first to leave. He said that he only came to these meetings to gloat, but Wraith knew better. He just enjoyed the company.

“Thanks for the meeting, Wraith.” Legion said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he exited the room. Spirit gave a little wave. The rest of the killers streamed out the door, discussing things quietly with each other. The Executioner trailed after them slowly, dragging his blade down the hallway. Soon, the only person remaining in the room with Wraith was the Shape.

“Yes, Michael? Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me?”

The Shape stood up and shuffled towards the other killer. He reached a hand out, gesturing for Wraith to hand him his clipboard and pen.

“Oh? Do you need to write something?”

He nodded and took them from Wraith’s hands, writing a message in careful, small handwriting. It read: Thank you for doing this. I have a serious habit.

Wraith smiled reassuringly and gave the Shape’s shoulder a soft pat. “Always my pleasure, Michael. You’re welcome to share at our next meeting. I promise nobody is going to think any less of you.”

The masked man looked at Wraith for a good long moment, then nodded slowly and left the room. The gentle killer made a few last notes on his clipboard and began stacking the chairs back up with a content sigh. Things were beginning to look up for his camping compatriots.

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011980/chapters/65940853

#dead by daylight #pyramid head #michael myers #the wraith #the trapper #evan macmillan #phillip ojomo #the nurse #sally smithson #the spirit #rin yamaoka #fanfiction #fluff #just a cute lil thing i came up with after getting camped

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chrysalispen · 4 years ago

Text

EPILOGUE. of truths sunk too deep for war

it’s done. now i take some time to finish some one-shots and plot out the next arc (which will take us through ARR, possibly to 2.55, though i am pondering making the CT raids its own separate multichapter fic because it’s so much on its own...) anyway, thank you all for reading ;A; i hope you enjoyed it and i look forward to starting on the next part!

... though i think... maybe not today LMAO i need some sleep

AO3 Link HERE

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

(||Feel||))

Aurelia sank into darkness so deep and vast that time had no meaning. It might have been minutes, hours, days of wandering aimlessly, set adrift in a fathomless ocean stretching malms past any known horizon.

And as she drifted, she dreamt.

Snatches of memory caught at her mind’s eye like errant flotsam curling in eddies about her soul.

She saw herself at a dying man’s bedside, a Roegadyn woman weeping inconsolably while watching her kiss him goodbye, unable to save him.

She saw the parting of clouds as black as pitch as Dalamud descended over the fields of Carteneau, a terrible secret still locked within its flaming belly.

She saw her adolescent self curled upon the carpeted steps of a cold marble staircase in the middle of one of Garlemald's eponymous blizzards: shivering beneath a coverlet she'd dragged from the bed hastily made for her, trying to weep as quietly as she could while her new guardians fought over what they felt should become of her.

She watched broken shards plummet to the earth from the heavens, bathed in brilliant fire. An impression of white and gold, sobbing both in rage and in heartbroken agony. Tears seeped into the fabric wrapped about her fading form like rainwater into soil.

(don’t cry. don’t cry, I’ll save you---)

The trail of fire twisted this way and that before it faded into the background of an intricate vine pattern she recognized. Green brocade wallpaper imported from Thavnair. This was a memory from her early childhood.

Aurelia stood silent in her parents’ bedchamber as if she were a neutral onlooker rather than reliving her own memory. L'haiya’s strong hands were braced firmly upon the shoulders of her younger self, expression flat and stoic and sunset-colored eyes dark with grief. They fell upon the dying woman who lay in the bed: a great four-poster carved from Eorzean mahogany.

The figure weeping over that wasted frame, clinging to a pale and withered hand, was likewise one she knew. Julian rem Laskaris, begging his wife not to die and leave him alone. Promising he’d save her if only she’d try to stay with him a little longer.

If only.

If only-

As soon as she thought about her mother the scene was gone entirely. She was, instead, lying in the grass in the middle of a garden she recognized by scent if not sight. Sunlit warmth spread like a gentle embrace over her skin and into her bones, and dappled patterns like leaves rustling in a breeze beneath the summer sun cast their soft furred impressions behind her eyelids.

A burbling noise caught her ears and she listened for a few confused moments before she realized what it was. The fountain, she thought. Of course, that sound was the little fountain with the Doman koi in it. Father had had it installed in the garden as a conversation piece for visiting officers. It sat among the beds of lavender Elle had helped her plant when they’d pulled out the weeds. Althyk lavender, a rare variety and the only kind that would grow in a place as arid as--

Gyr Abania.

Something high and yearning rose in her. Home. She was home.

A cool, dry breeze fluttered in small wisps through golden forelocks that had escaped their confines. Wrapped snugly in her favorite grass-green pelisse, feet bare beneath her muslins, Aurelia sighed. Her fingers flexed, curled into a handful of soft ryegrass, and as she opened her eyes she saw overhead the strangely shaped leaves and heavy twined branches of a persimmon tree. Nearby was the old zelkova that framed the artfully arched parlor windows that faced the Menagerie promenade.

She was propped head and shoulders in someone’s lap. She could feel slim fingers carding gently through her hair and she could smell jasmine and tea rose, a mild and gentle lady’s sachet.

Her breath caught in her throat. That was a scent she knew.

When she opened her eyes to look upon her companion, the face smiling back was not L’haiya’s. She took in a wealth of long auburn curls, soft brows and fair skin, the delicate pearlescent oval in the center of the forehead that marked the woman as a pureblooded Garlean. Dark blue eyes, the exact same shade she saw every time she looked in a mirror.

Aurelia only barely remembered this face. She had been so young, and so many long years had passed that it was one she could now recall with true clarity only from paintings and daguerreotypes. But she knew it well enough to speak a name.

“Mama?”

The word was spoken in a voice that sounded hoarse, almost rusty, as though it had languished from long years of disuse. Vittora cen Remianus only smiled, tracing a small path from her daughter’s hairline to the upper rim of her third eye with the edge of her thumb.

“Hello, sunshine,” her mother said. “It’s been a very long time.”

Why are you here?

Misgiving swept over her in a small flood. Her mother had never seen their house in Ala Mhigo. After Vittora’s passing, there had been a small memorial in which her ashes had been spread over the Estersands. That was several months before Aurelia’s father had put in his transfer request to the XIVth Legion.

She certainly shouldn’t be in their garden.

...Where am I?

Aurelia had to know. “Am... I’m not dead, am I?”

“No, of course not.” Vittora was still smiling, but it had taken on a pensive cast, and she seemed to be looking at something Aurelia could not see. “Not dead. You’re just very deeply asleep. Come and see for yourself.”

Her limbs seemed to weigh several tonzes apiece; merely bracing her elbows against the grass felt like a heroic effort, but after a great deal of strain she managed it well enough to sit up.

She followed her mother’s gaze and her eyes went wide.

The boundaries of the garden she remembered began to fragment at the edge of the fountain, in segments of empty space that were uncannily symmetrical. A few years ago during one of her summer lectures, Aurelia had had the opportunity to watch students at the Imperial Magitek Academy researching Allagan tomestones from excavations further afield. She remembered the same sense of unease at the sight of a screen showing the compilation process.

It had looked very much the same as this. Empty blocks where the tomestone data was corrupted or truncated. Or missing.

Beyond the garden lay… nothing, as far as the eye could see. Shimmering lines of aether lapped at the edges of this facsimile, borders receding and advancing in turns like waves upon an ocean shore moving with a great and ancient tide beyond her understanding.

“Where is this?” she asked, in a small voice.

“A place that you will not see for, I hope, many more years to come.” A pale, slender hand folded over Aurelia’s, and a mote of light caught Vittora’s wedding band as she squeezed. For the first moment since she had laid eyes upon her, Aurelia realized how weightless her mother’s touch felt. Indistinct. “Our souls return here at the end of our mortal coil. They are drawn to the Lifestream and swept away on its currents.”

The edges of the mirage garden trembled with Aurelia’s agitation. She bit her lip.

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“Me?” Her mother seemed genuinely surprised. “Oh, sunshine. I didn’t bring you here. You brought yourself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Most mortals will never see the aetherial sea while they live. A small number may take to its currents only by way of forbidden magicks, and not without considerable peril to body and soul.”

A chill ran down her spine. With an abrupt swish of her skirts, she regained her feet and reached the edge of the tableaux in three long strides. At the lip of the fountain, she held her fingers beneath the running water.

There was no pressure and neither warmth nor chill. Her hand came away just as dry as it had been before.

“But you are different from most,” her mother continued. “Your soul may travel here and can even resist the Lifestream’s call for a time. Because of your gift.”

((Hear. Feel. Think.))

“My gift,” Aurelia echoed. “Is that- do you mean the conjury?”

“Yes and no, although this selfsame gift does allow you to harness and manipulate aether. You should not be able to do that, either. And yet here you are.”

“But why all of this now? Why me?”

“Why not you? Our star holds many mysteries. Some are readily explained and still others have yet to be unraveled, and this may well be one of the latter.” Vittora’s hands folded primly at her waist as she approached her daughter’s side; between thumb and index finger she spun an errant blossom. The petals fluttered with each rotation back and forth. “But I doubt you came to ask for answers I don’t have.”

Aurelia opened her mouth, then shut it, her brows knotted in hapless frustration.

“I don’t,” she wrapped her arms about herself, cupping her elbows in her hands and staring out over the star-shimmer shore, “I don’t know that any of it matters, Mama.”

“Why not?”

“I tried to set out and make my own path. Uncle and Aunt wanted me to make a match with a family of their choosing.”

“Many a soul has chafed beneath the weight of others’ expectations,” Vittora said. “You are far from the first scion of the imperial aristocracy to have put off a betrothal until they felt themselves ready to commit to a marriage, and I sincerely doubt you will be the last.”

“It was never a matter of readiness. I would have been perfectly happy finishing my schooling and leaving the capitol for good.”

“I see.”

“ ‘His Radiance’s Will’ can go hang. It would have done no harm for Uncle to allow me to choose for myself or not at all.”

Vittora’s brows raised. “Something tells me that Janus would not see the matter thus.”

“He didn’t. But he and Aunt could not very well prevent me from serving out my enlistment. I thought it would give me that much more time to decide.” She made a helpless gesture at the wide emptiness of the sea. “Instead, I lost everything.”

“Endings are as much a part of the vagaries of life as aught else, Aurelia. Your father rejected that truth. I would not see you do the same.”

Aurelia did not answer for a long time. Her mother moved closer, and with her drifted the watery, delicate scent of her sachet.

“Mama, I’m worried.”

“Why?”

She didn’t have enough left in her to dissemble. “Because I don’t know if any of the choices I've made have been good ones.”

“Sometimes there is no good choice, sunshine. Sometimes there are only choices.” Vittora bowed her head. The expression she wore was something like sadness. “But be they for weal or woe, the one thing you cannot do is be so afraid of making a bad choice that you do not let yourself make any decisions at all.”

The rebuke was gentle but pointed.

“If I were stronger then perhaps I would not concern myself so much with the outcome.”

“You are strong. I remember the girl you once were. And I think you are far stronger than you have been given cause to believe. You will make the most of what you have been given- as our people have ever done in hard times.” A pale hand patted her cheek. “It could be that you were meant to come to Eorzea all along.”

“Perhaps. But I think I could just as easily have elected to follow Uncle Janus and Aunt Marcella’s wishes, then called it destiny if the outcome were personally beneficial,” Aurelia said. “Life is what we make of it.”

Vittora laughed, the sound of it somewhat dry. “That rather sounds like something a certain Dalmascan would say.”

“What do you believe, Mama?” Aurelia watched the lavender blossom spin out of her mother’s fingers and float in lazy drifts to the grass. “Do you believe in destiny?”

“That is a difficult question to answer. But I think- I hope- that it is both. And in any case, I think a lack of belief in a higher power makes your capacity for kindness all the more precious. Please, sunshine, don’t ever lose that compassion.”

“Mama, I became a chirurgeon to help others. I should hope that compassion is the least virtue to which I could lay a claim.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the scattered petals of the blossom. “...But you have my word.”

The shade released a long, soft sigh, something that sounded very much like satisfaction..

Before her eyes, the outline of that slim, graceful figure began to warp into something that reminded her of heatwaves upon stone in summer, the facial features becoming slowly and steadily translucent. Aurelia’s heart lodged in her throat.

“No,” she said. She thought she had cried it aloud, but sound did not carry in a place like this. “No. You can’t go yet.”

“I must.”

“There’s so much more I want to talk to you about. Please.”

“You don’t belong here.”

“But-”

“No, sunshine. Your place is with the living. Go back to them.” Vittora’s gentle smile returned, and she reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear. “You are very young yet and your future is still uncharted. It waits only for your pen to fill its pages. Take the new life you have been granted, and live it.”

The steady burble of the fountain had ceased. Flowers and trees and stone all began to disintegrate, leaving in their wake only the otherworldly glow of shining white-capped waves.

Her mother’s transparent hand fell to her side, and Aurelia felt its withdrawal as the faintest whisper of a breeze against her cheek as Vittora cen Remianus stepped forward into the line of stardust foam that surged onto the shore. Aether washed around her ankles and lapped at the hem of her skirts but she did not appear to mind or even notice as she took another step, and then another, and another.

The cascade of bright auburn curls Aurelia recalled so well turned to sepia before fading entirely as that lonely figure drew farther and farther away and disappeared, leaving her daughter to linger upon the edge of mortal consciousness.

Leaving her alone again just as she had done all those years ago. Aurelia’s eyes burned.

“Remember me,” the shade of her mother said as it walked out into the aetherial sea, drawn back into its vast currents. “Remember me, and I will always be with you.”

No, she thought. No, you can’t just leave me alone like this-

She made to step into the sea, to follow- and was soundly denied. A deep, resonant chime echoed from somewhere within the living currents of her own soul as her feet defied her mind’s order to move.

An unknown and unseen Something was pulling her back.

I can’t-

(Remember.)

There were words. Words that

||Hear. Feel||

echoed like a mantra as her eyelids, suddenly heavy as lodestones, fell shut once more.

(Remember-)

She could hear birds.

For a long moment, she did not move. Her eyes shifted beneath the curtains of her lids, following the dapple-pattern of shifting leaves while she turned her attention to the nearby trilling. A warm breeze brushed her cheek like a mother’s touch, soft and soothing, and water burbled steadily from someplace not too distant, and she knew she lay upon something (a bed? a lap? She wasn’t certain) soft and yielding.

Mama, she thought, and opened her eyes.

There was no sign of her mother. She lay on a small infirmary bed barely larger than an army cot, tucked under a light blanket. Someone had taken the trouble to wash her and dress her in a plain hempen robe. Her gaze peered through the fine folds of a transparent cloth the likes of which she had not seen in so long that it took an embarrassing few moments to realize it was some sort of protective netting- probably, she thought, intended to keep out midges and chigoes. High overhead a canopy of leaves danced in the gentle wind, turning like troupes of tiny dancers upon their branches.

On the right side of her bed, she sensed a soft weight. Aurelia blinked slowly, once, twice, and the world came into focus as she looked down.

A small Miqo’te girl dozed with her head pillowed upon the edge of the mattress. Her short dark hair spilled over the blanket in an unruly mess, eyes shifting side to side beneath their lids, and one ear flickered in tiny erratic twitches even as her tail lay curled limp and unmoving on the grass. In that brief moment of silence, Aurelia heard a tiny snore escape her slack lips.

Despite the sorrowful ache that still lingered in her own chest, she smiled and carefully slid a hand from beneath the blanket to rest it upon Vahne’s shoulders.

“The conjurers said she’s not slept since we arrived here.”

The voice came from the infirmary bed next to her. Its occupant sat atop the mattress with her back propped up by a pile of pillows, a tome in one hand with her fingers marking the page. Her right arm was in a sling and, like her leg on the same side, it was encased in plaster. More pillows cushioned the woman’s heel, and like Aurelia she was clad very simply in a hempen robe. Her auburn hair had been cut short.

“She’ll be happy to see you up when she awakens,” Rhaya Wolndara said. “She’s been very worried about you. She was furious with me when she found out I’d sent you packing. Wouldn’t talk to me for the better part of a sennight.”

“I-”

The word came out as a croak. Without further prompting Rhaya set her book aside, reached for the tin cup and water pitcher on the small stool between them serving as a side table, and poured. Aurelia accepted it gratefully and took small sips, sloshing the water around her dry mouth before swallowing as Rhaya watched.

“Take your time. You’ve been asleep for the past two suns.”

“Where is this?”

“You don’t recognize your own guild?” Aurelia squinted through the netting and canvas and finally spied the huge old tree where she had conducted much of her training. As Rhaya had said, they were in the Stillglade Fane, abed in the infirmary area reserved for patients that were not in dire need of treatment. “The Wailers dragged us out of that ruin. Brought all of us here for treatment. You collapsed. From exhaustion, I suppose.”

“The last thing I remember was-” She paused, straining to recall. The taste of soot seemed to linger on her tongue. “...The fire. Did-”

“Sergeant Epocan told me what happened. One of the village Wailers - a Lieutenant Daye, I think he said - was able to sneak out and run to the Druthers for help. It was fortunate he did. Their commander set a brushfire from the creek embankment that spread very quickly, but the Wailers and some conjurers from Quarrymill were able to put the fires out. With the village’s help, of course.”

Aurelia watched a grimace flash across Rhaya’s face as the other woman shifted in her bedclothes.

“On that note,” she said, her voice curiously brisk, “I owe you an apology. ‘Tis like my captors and I would have died in that fire without your intervention.”

Sewell.

“Sewell didn’t make it, Rhaya.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I was told. He came through in the end, though, didn’t he? Poor man. To have come so far only to die like that...”

Aurelia stared down at the small, spindly shoulders under her hand.

“He wanted me to tell you he was sorry for everything that happened.” The ache in her chest intensified, crept up her throat. “I did try to save him.”

“Come now, I see those tears. You’re only one woman; you can’t bleeding well save the realm entire, you know,” Rhaya chided her, taking the emptied cup from her hands to set back upon the stool. “Not a soul could reasonably ask more of you. You helped run the Empire out of a village full of people who could well have turned on you the moment they found out what you were.”

“Sergeant Epocan told you about that?”

“Only because you had told him that I realized you were a Garlean. That was a very brave thing you did, you know. You took a big chance on all of them, revealing yourself like that.”

“I like to think that most of them would at least have the sense to see I was on their side. Although I imagine,” Aurelia said dryly, “that stealing a flash grenade and using it to incite them to riot didn’t hurt.”

“I’m sorry for my part in it. I shouldn’t have said those things to you- no, let me finish. I knew when those men fled that they’d be back, and at the time I… well. Your friend set me straight on a great deal.” She eyed the small girl. “And this one too. If she hadn’t run to you for help, I don’t know that I would be here now.”

“She’s a good girl.”

“She is. She still has some growing to do yet, but she is.” Rhaya’s smile faded. A pained expression tightened the corners of her mouth. “My youngest sister Kheni got herself mixed up with some bad sorts when Vahne was younger. The one sensible thing she did was to leave the girl with me. I never meant to raise children of my own, and it’s been bloody hard going it alone.”

“Sergeant Epocan tells me that Keeper families are often large,” Aurelia frowned. “Did you not have other siblings who could have helped you?”

“Aye. Two sisters and a brother, all younger than me. We weren’t on speaking terms.”

She did not miss that past-tense had. “You talk as if something happened to them.”

“They answered the Twin Adder’s call to fight the Empire last spring. My brother was cross with me when I didn’t do the same; I suppose he had grand notions of the Wolndara family fighting the Garleans in the same unit, or somesuch. Anyroad, I felt it were naught but folly to risk my life and leave Vahne without anyone to look after her, and I told him thus. And he- they,” Rhaya took a deep and visible breath, “they all three of them marched off to join the main force at Carteneau and - just like a lot of other folk - they never returned. Vahne is all I have left so I feel responsible for her safety. But… mayhap I have been a little too strict as her guardian. Just a little.”

Her gaze on Vahne’s slumbering form softened.

“I’m proud of her.”

"So am I.”

"Good." Aurelia lay her head back and shut her eyes again. She was still very tired. “I think I’ll let her be a little while longer.”

“I’ll call for one of the conjurers,” Rhaya said. “Rest. You still need it.”

She thought she nodded her response, but she wasn’t sure. The other woman’s words seemed to float into her ears and spin in small drifting circles, like lazy eddies of water, as she lapsed into another light doze.

This time her sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

~*~

27th Sun, Fifth Astral Moon, Year 1 of the Seventh Umbral Era

“Up!” the voice shouted. “Put your backs into it! Mind the bleedin' base!”

Summer was winding down, but something of it lingered still in the air. A flock of sparrows descended upon the nearby fence with a great flutter of wings, trilling beneath the afternoon sun’s warm and benevolent gaze, and Aurelia Laskaris listened in an absentminded way from her vantage point in a fallow field. She was watching the villagers' combined efforts to raise the walls of a new house. The ropes went taut as a section of wall lifted by ilms, ash planks and iron nails to be lashed in place as the joints met.

“Hoist!!” the voice shouted again, and among the ensuing calls to coordinate the teams, she could hear the steady clattering clamor of tools working the wood.

“You lot have made an art of this,” she said. At her side Frieda Miller let out a small cackle.

“We work quickly,” the weaver shrugged, gently jostling the infant girl in her arms. “It’s the neighborly thing to do. Though if you told me this time last year we’d be doing something like this outside the village...”

She trailed off, hesitation crossing her features, but Aurelia thought she knew what Frieda meant. The people of this small and secluded forest village seemed to have taken if not a kinder view of outsiders, at least a slightly warmer one. They had unknowingly harbored a Garlean for moons and when Aurelia’s countrymen had attacked she had sided with them against her own kind: something none of them would have expected. Not only that, the hamlet’s entire defense against imperial incursion had been spearheaded by a Keeper Miqo’te: a man whose people were so often jettisoned to the fringes of the Shroud, and treated with suspicion and disdain by many.

Their familiarity with him, and with Aurelia, had forced many people to re-examine their assumptions about their world, and while some still clung stubbornly to old grudges and commonly-held wisdoms, others had made friendly overtures one by one. For better or worse, change had come to Willowsbend, heralded by the fall of Dalamud, and it appeared to be here to stay.

Whatever they might think of her, or of the surrounding events, Aurelia could only hope that their attitudes towards their neighbors continued to soften.

“So,” Frieda continued, “you two are to leave on the morrow.”

“So I am.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any plans to stay here? The Guild could always take Trevantioux back instead.”

She smiled, a little ruefully.

“Hardly any need for a third wheel, now that he and Noline have called things off.”

“He seems to be taking it rather well.”

“Ah. Well enough, all things considered. I’m still sorry I couldn’t be there with you to help deliver Isa, but-”

“Oh, never you mind that, Aurelia! What you did gave me a safe place to bring her into the world and that’s just as important.” Frieda grinned. “At any rate, no harm would have been done, I can trust Trevantioux to do his work properly. The man might be a bit of a jackass and a fool in love besides, but he’s a good conjurer, and he’s earned his place in the village.”

“Then it seems to me that you’re in good hands.”

Despite her words, Aurelia couldn’t help the pang of sadness she felt.

It was likely she could have remained in Willowsbend did she wish it, but there had been Trevantioux to consider. The events of that fateful night had changed him. Ever since he had made the hard decision to break his betrothal, he had seemed a shell of his previous self, rendered nigh desolate by Noline’s infidelity. His work was all he had left- and he had been tending to the village under Ewain’s tutelage for four years.

As fond as she had become of Frieda and Hugh and all the others in her own short stay here, Aurelia couldn’t bring herself to take his home from him on top of everything else. Thus, it seemed trivial to contact E-Sumi-Yan and explain the situation - and even more so to formally request an end to her current assignment, seeing as there would now be no open position to fill. It was an olive branch, but one Trevantioux had accepted with a great deal of grace. These days there were no sour remarks about her origins or sullen glares when she went on rounds. He had even been the one to offer the village’s assistance in rebuilding the Wolndara homestead, something that had surprised everyone - not least of all Rhaya herself.

Maybe that was the most important part of the whole outcome. If someone as stubborn as Trevantioux could change his tune, it should be no hard task for the rest of them.

In Frieda’s arms, little Isa made a loud blatting noise and swatted at a stray lock of her mother’s hair- and was thwarted by the casual sidewise tilt of Frieda's chin. “Be that as it may, know that you’ll be missed by myself and the boys, at the very least. Do you promise to come and visit us when you can?”

Aurelia smiled. “You wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t at least make the attempt.”

“I’ll make sure to have my best pies ready and waiting for you to take tea with me. Speaking of which,” Frieda said, “it looks like you’ve a friend coming up the hill.”

She followed the woman’s pointing finger and saw a willowy figure loping towards them across the empty field. The Miqo’te had grown a good two or three ilms over the season and showed no signs of stopping, but she was still more child than adolescent yet. She nigh vibrated with excitement, her tail lashing against her leg as she drew to a halt.

“Miss Aurelia, Shadow’s having her kittens!”

“Be well, Frieda.” She patted the woman’s shoulder. “Give Rauffe and the boys my love.”

“I will.”

At the foot of the incline, Vahne fidgeted, rocking from side to side as she waited for Aurelia to reach her. Some yalms distant, another section of heavy oak beams began to lift from the newly packed ground, and carpenters’ hammers continued to mark increments of time and progress in short beats.

“They’re moving very fast,” she said, smiling. “I daresay they’ll have your house finished in the next fortnight.”

Vahne nodded, in a vague sort of way - she supposed the particulars of housing construction didn’t much interest a young girl. That small face looked troubled despite the tranquility of the day and after a moment, she burst out,

“I don’t want you to go back to Gridania!”

“Vahne, darling, I must. It’s not up to you or me.”

“Can’t you just stay here? With me and Aunt Rhaya? We have plenty of space and since you two patched things up she'd be happy to-”

Aurelia sighed. She had been dreading this. “I can’t. It’s not that easy.”

“But I don’t understand why,” Vahne protested. “You could just leave the guild and go anywhere you chose if you wanted to, couldn’t you? You could become an adventurer! People do it all the time!”

There were a great many things that she thought she could have said in that moment. She could have lied, spun some bit of fiction she knew Vahne would accept. She could have attempted to tell the truth, to explain all of the sordid details and confluence of events that had brought her to Willowsbend, and hope that she might understand.

Instead, she reached for Vahne’s hand.

“Part of being an adult means having to make choices. Sometimes it means hard choices, even when you know it’s the right thing to do. Do you understand?” At the girl’s nod, she said, “Those choices don’t ever stop coming to your door. I would love to stay, Vahne, but I can’t. My choice to leave Willowsbend for good lets a man keep his home and it keeps the rest of you safe from the Garleans besides.”

“Safe from what? Those men are gone. You killed their leader and now-” Aurelia was slowly shaking her head, and Vahne’s lower lip began to tremble. “Please don’t go. You’re the first real friend I’ve ever had.”

“I will visit when I can, but life is taking me elsewhere. I can’t say when I’ll be back to stay,” she said gently. “It’s quite possible the answer is never.”

“I hate this! I hate saying goodbye. I feel like it’s all I’ve done my whole life.”

“It’s true that sometimes life feels like nothing but goodbyes, but sometimes in order to have a beginning you have to have an ending.” Vahne, to her credit, didn’t cry, but the hand around Aurelia’s felt almost crushing. “When I leave, I want you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Visit Goody Miller when you can? She’ll be in need of a friend herself and now that the villagers know you and your aunt, I’m sure you’ll be able to make even more friends.”

Vahne didn’t look altogether convinced, but the nod she gave Aurelia was slow and solemn.

“In the meantime,” the Garlean righted her posture, her tone briskly cheerful, “let’s cheer up, shall we? Tomorrow hasn’t arrived just yet, after all. It is still today, with plenty of light left in it, and I believe you were saying something about your barn cat.”

The Miqo’te brightened; her rain-grey eyes seemed to come alive at the reminder.

“Oh, yes! Have you ever seen newborn kittens?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t, no.”

“Good! That means I get to show you your very first litter.” She squeezed Aurelia’s hand and began to tug her arm in the direction of the reconstructed barn, rather impatiently, in the way a girl half her age might have done. “She’s made her nest in the back of the chocobo pen.”

Feeling unexpectedly light-hearted for the first time in what felt like forever, Aurelia followed her young friend. The grass parted for their passing and concealed their steps as though they had never traveled through the field at all.

What the villagers built here wouldn’t replace Rhaya’s home nor the memories that had formed within its walls. No force in the world could turn back time to recover the things they had all lost, she thought. Not truly- and perhaps that was for the best. A new home blessed with companionship would provide ample space for new memories and the promise of new friends. It was a symbol of renewal as sure as any spring.

In short order the pair had retreated into the stable, itself still smelling of sap and fresh-cut hay, to bear witness to these small new lives. And as men rebuilt and the forest resumed its vigil, time turned its inexorable wheel into the cusp of a new Age.

#reborn by fire #epilogue: of truths sunk too deep for war #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

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inkrabbit · 4 years ago

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I haven't posted much, but I have been writing little snippets here and there when I'm not doing something else. So I decided to gather all the snippets I liked and put them together to show what I'm working on, and what I want to eventually work on. Most of these are stories I have planned for WD: Legion, but a couple are for my own personal works.

Unnamed Prison Love Story

Of course the other inmates had liked her. Most of them hadn't even seen a woman in years. But apparently she had more to offer them than just a pretty face to stare at. Everyone had said how nice she had been, talked softly and treated them with respect. She let them vent and talk about whatever they wanted, and she was a lot more lenient than any guard would ever dream of being. She would remove their cuffs and set it on the desk next to her chair, and she would sit only a few feet away. She pushed every boundary she could, and she took every chance with the inmates. She even argued with the guards who told her otherwise.

Sitting before her now, he finally understood the excited rumors he heard in passing. A calm and serene vibe had filled the warm room, and for a moment, he almost forgot he was trapped in prison and would soon be escorted back to his small, cold cell. She had kept a smile on her face, spoke softly and respected his boundaries when he didn't want to talk about a subject. She made him feel safe and acknowledged, encouraging him to talk about his day or how certain things made him feel. She made him feel like he was more than just another number in the system.

What's more, the woman was free. She didn't dress in the finest threads, opting for shirts that displayed band names he had almost forgotten, and her hair was never pulled back like it should've been. Another boundary she pushed; a test for him. To see if he would lunge at her like some of the others would try, use her hair to their advantage. But why would he? Sitting across from him, a notepad in hand, she didn't ignite anything violent inside him. If anything, she calmed down whatever fire stayed lit.

She became his breath of fresh air, and he found himself almost anxious for each session with her. The sweet scent of her perfume would always make his head spin as it filled the room. He had considered asking her once before in the beginning what it was, but the Devil on his shoulder had forced him to stay quiet. Back then, he had hated the woman and would refuse to talk, figuring she was just as bad as everyone else and that these little “therapy” sessions were just a way to find any weaknesses he had. But she never seemed exhausted or irritated by his silence. She gave him time, sat there with her soft smile and blank notepad and told him they would talk whenever he was ready. He never intended on giving in, but the one day he had gotten blood on his hands, he heard that change in tone.

The soft voice turned to concern, but she didn't throw accusations at him like he had expected. Oh no, she had actually asked him what the other inmate did to make him upset. The adrenaline that coursed through him had calmed down and he had finally opened his mouth. Not once did she interrupt him. She sat there and listened, scribbled down whatever she seemed important, and went back to listening. And when he was done, fists clenched and his body barely shaking at the rage that threatened to rise up, she finally moved. Slow and almost hesitant, testing the waters. He watched her carefully, how her rings shone in the bright sunlight that poured in through the windows, silver bands with various symbols. He let her approach him, and he let her take a seat on the old couch with her. Her touch was gentle and warm when she took his hand in her own, admiring his bruised and busted knuckles, flecks of dried blood decorating the skin that hadn't been properly washed.

“You did what you felt you had to,” she told him softly, “Maybe you overdid it. Maybe you should've stopped sooner. But you stood your ground for what you believed in. There's nothing wrong with that.”

It was the first time he had looked her in the eye, and he had immediately gotten lost within them. The feeling that quelled his rage had scared him, a certain type of vulnerability that made it seem like the woman could read his deepest and darkest thoughts. And yet, a part of that excited him.

WD: Legion – Dark AU – Love Path

“Daniel!” Sabine’s steps are hesitant as she walks forward, gun trained on the Irishman sitting on the edge with his back to her. He’s fiddling with something in his hand, a soft light illuminating his glove.

“Don’t suppose you found her on the way up?” he calls back, not even picking up his head.

“Who are you talking about?” He hadn’t mistook her for one of his members, had he? No, she was certain he recognized her voice. He had easily picked her out before.

She flinches when he starts to move, fist closing around the item in his hand as he slowly curls his legs back and lifts himself up. It’s the first time she’s seen him actually hunch over, and those once cold hazel eyes are alight with an emotion she’s not certain of. Still, there’s a slight smile that’s pulling at his lips, but it’s not the normal confident and smug grin she’s grown accustomed to.

“I always thought Dalton was a right idiot for liking you,” Dan laughs softly, “Didn’t understand what he felt until I experienced it meself...”

Dalton’s name leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, but she’s still focused on the man standing before her. The way he’s speaking isn’t normal, a distant tone in his voice instead of calm and velvety. Her eyes flicker over to his wrist, a silver bracelet glistening in the dull light that surrounded them. That was new. From what she knew, the only jewelry he wore were the piercings he had in his ears. He seems to perk up at this, extending his left arm and showing the bracelet off.

“She gave this to me. I’m guessing you didn’t hear?” She furrows her brows. Hear what? “Met a young woman that actually liked me. Made me feel... something. Enough to actually try and get help. I even stepped down as leader from DedSec. Let Jeremy take over.” This was news to her. From what she knew, Dan still led the group. Guess that wasn’t the case anymore. “She’s disappeared again. I thought Jeremy had something to do with it, but...” He opens his hand, tossing the item out. It was an optik, still glowing as it clattered to the ground. “I only found this when I got up here. I take it you didn’t see anyone on your way up?”

“No,” Her response draws a soft but sad chuckle from him. His step forward forces her to take one back.

“Well come on, then!” he calls out, raising his voice and straightening up, outstretching his arms to the side. She can tell he’s doing his damnedest to look normal, but that faulty smile on his face is throwing it off. It all looked wrong and out of place. She has gotten so used to doing the cocky and manipulative man. “Don’t think I wanna stick around if I can’t find her. Medicine and “fixing meself” don’t mean shite if I’m doing it for nothing.”

Something Stupid – 50's Love Story

“Did you want anything while I'm out?”

Of course he knew the answer, his second-in-command, Luciano, having been annoying him about pancakes all morning. But the look on the younger man's face was priceless, honey colored eyes widening as he stands from his crouched position. A bright smile spreads across his face as he wipes away the dirt on his hands, standing straight before his leader.

“You're finally gonna get me those pancakes?!” he squeals, “I just want those with extra syrup.”

“You're lucky I'm gettin' 'em at all,” Lighting up a cigarette, Kazimir turns his heels, headed for his car. “If that's all, I'll see you later. Gonna see if Nick is gonna cooperate this time and give us that protection money.”

“Good luck!” Starting up the engine, he waves goodbye to his friend and pulls away from the old compound, keeping the window rolled down as he takes a drag from his cigarette. There was a little diner the gang frequented that was a few minutes away. The food was average, and he hated how stubborn the owner was with the protection fee, but there was one waitress in that establishment that made it all worth while: Aurora Rossi, a beautiful Italian woman with the personality of a saint. She had treated the gang just like she would any other customer, and she indulged in the small conversations they had dragged her into here and there. He stayed quiet most of the time, knowing if he got too rowdy himself he would lose control of everyone, but he could never take his eyes off of the woman.

The parking lot is thankfully empty as he pulls in, parking in a spot closest to the door. He wouldn't be long; he knew the workers there hated him and his crew, always desperate to make them leave quickly. The little chime of the bell atop the door rings in his ears as he enters the diner, eyeing the staff. He can see them talking among themselves, scared eyes flickering back and forth between coworkers and himself. He was used to this treatment, especially in this little restaurant. No one ever wanted to help him, and if it weren't for the fact they all had a job to do, they probably would've went running.

Oh, but there's his little angel he had been dying to see, her red lips curled back in a genuine, friendly smile. He leans against the counter as she approaches, hands folded in front of her.

“Did you need to look at the menu, sir?” she asks. Her sweet voice makes his heart flutter, but he maintains his cool, shaking his head.

“Just a couple things to go,” He watches her dig out the notepad from the pocket of her apron, sliding the pen out of the metal spirals. A small smirk forms. “Nick also in today?”

“Not today, sorry. He should be back tomorrow though!” Ah, so the old man was hiding from him. Nothing new. They would come back day after day if they had to for that money. But for now, he loses himself in those green eyes, purring out his order and watching her hastily write it down. Pancakes with extra syrup, a ham and cheese omelet, some coffee to go; the list goes on and she stops him occasionally to ask for any sides, how he'd want the toast to be or how the eggs were supposed to be cooked. He knew the gang's order by now. There weren't many who hung around him and the compound they worked out of, but he preferred it this way. He had a group of members he considered close and actually cared about, and the rest ran the odd job for him when he couldn't be bothered.

Aurora rings him up and he makes sure to pull the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, holding it between his index and middle finger as he hands it over. She looks hesitant, eyebrows raised as she inspects it, and Kazimir chuckles when she asks if he's sure.

“You deal with enough here, sweetheart,” he coos at her, “You deserve to be compensated.”

“Well, that's why I get paid,” Sweet as ever, but he finally coaxes her into taking the money, and she won't stop thanking him as she tucks it into the pocket of her apron. She gives him the estimated time it would take for the food to be ready as she disappears back into the kitchen, and Kazimir takes a seat on one of the stools at the front. He looks around the old diner, the light peach colored walls almost looking white in the afternoon sunlight, and the teal accents popping. Heaven's Diner was known for its bright but calming colors, and the staff were friendly to everyone except Kazimir's gang. Then again, he didn't blame them.

He listens to the soft music playing from the nearby radio, some blues band he didn't know the name of. It's calming, but not something he's used to. Maybe he had just gotten so used to the rock and roll that would play throughout the compound. Still, the music doesn't drown out the clanking of kitchenware in the back, and the occasional barking order from one of the chefs. He rests his elbows on the counter, lacing his fingers together and hooking his thumbs under his chin to keep his head up. Hazel eyes slip shut as he drinks in the ambiance. It was always nice when the diner was empty. He didn't have to deal with the judging looks, or the sour remarks thrown his way from some holier-than-thou old patron. The funny thing was, all of the staff workers would agree with the customers about how horrible he was. Aurora was the only one who never judged him, and had shown a hint of defense when anyone would bring up the gang.

“It's none of my business what they do. I just come here to work,” Those responses were the only time he had ever heard the woman lost her natural bubbly and friendly attitude, her tone turning firm as she would end the conversation there. Maybe that was why he liked her? She never judged them, and never shied away from taking their orders like the other waitstaff had many times before. In fact, Luciano had joked about how she was their personal waitress many times before. The group loved her personality just as much as he did, and they always made sure to leave a tip that went well over that old twenty percent rule. They normally left before they could see the look on her face, but Kazimir had caught her reaction through the window a couple times. A look of surprise that soon turned to excitement, and he cherished those memories.

When Aurora finally returns, she has little to-go boxes piled up on top of a tray with the drinks on the other side. She always was careful bringing everything out, and it's something he appreciates. He knew some of the waitresses would “accidentally” spill drinks on themselves in order to receive larger tips, but his little waitress would always take her time and set everything down gently. Maybe that was another thing he loved about her? Her dignity and pure attitude. He watches her pack them into a bag and slowly load up the drinks in a cup holder. She's slow, diligent, making sure nothing is lopsided and won't move. He can't stop the smile forming on his face as he watches her. A part of him hated how the woman affected him, wiping away that permanent scowl on his face and making his whole body feel lighter than normal. He takes the bag from her, his fingers brushing her as he hooks it around his arm before grabbing the cup holder. She stands before him just like every other time he would order his food to go: a sweet smile on her face, hands folded in front of her as she makes sure he has everything, occasionally smoothing out her apron if she felt a wrinkle in an odd spot.

“Have a good day, sir!” she calls out to him as he makes his way for the door, and he turns his head just enough to shoot a smile back at her. The bell chimes again as he opens the door and walks out, unlocking his car and sitting everything in the passenger seat, even going so far as to put the seat belt over his items so they don't fall on his way back. One last glance inside the diner, and he almost feels disappointed when he sees Aurora has disappeared. Well, he would be back tomorrow to talk to Nick anyway. Maybe he could find an excuse to get the woman's attention as well?

Unnamed WIP

By the time he pulls himself up and trudges to the bathroom, the stinging pain in his throat has faded. He looks at himself in the mirror, his neck and cheek bruised, and his eyes dark. He looks horrible, but he supposes it's not a surprise. What the Kelleys did to him – what the woman just did to him. There's no doubt his body is littered with bruises and cuts, but he can't bring himself to look again. It already caught him off guard when he had bathed in that freezing water. He didn't want to be reminded of the abuse.

The spacious bathroom in itself is cute, albeit bland. White tiles were devoid of any imperfections and dirt, and the bar of soap seated atop a colorful orange dish seems brand new. He leans against the counter, bringing his hands forward and admiring his wrists. They're still bleeding, drops of blood dripping into the sink and staining the once spotless white surface. Hesitantly, he reaches down to open the drawers, stopping once he sees a first aid kit placed in one of them. He's slow to bring it out, the ache in his wrists forcing him to move like a snail.

Everything's new when he opens it. Had the woman just bought these? He picks up the peroxide that was laying inside, tearing into the protective coating and unscrewing the cap. One more seal and it's open. Taking a deep breath, he grabs the bottle and splashes the contents onto to his left wrist, making him cry out. It stung as the cuts started to bubble, white foam covering his skin and dripping into the sink, mixing with the blood. His body is shaking, but he forces himself to douse his right next. It almost feels worse, and he has to hold onto the counter for support, his knees buckling underneath the pain. Deep breaths, anything to calm him down. He sets the peroxide on the counter, picking up the bandages next. He wraps it around his left wrist first, then the right. It stings, but in some odd way, he feels better. The bandages are soft against his skin, comforting and the only thing that feels secure.

He leans against the counter, lips pursed as he focuses on the blood and foam slowly rolling down the drain. He's lost as his body slowly stops shaking, mind blank and eyes stuck. He listens to everything going on around him. That soft hum of the light bulbs above, the beating of his heart, the sizzling in the drain as the excess peroxide runs down. Finally, he moves, turning his wrist to admire it. Blood easily shows up, a stark contrast against the white bandages, staining the area red. Why did any of this have to happen?

He glances to the side of the bathroom, a luxurious bathtub installed, the tiled walls surrounding it shining in the bathroom's light. It seemed so welcoming, the thought of a hot bath, but he can't bring himself to indulge in it. Not yet. He's too tired and too lost in his own thoughts about everything going on. So instead, he moves to the door, flicking off the light and crossing over the bedroom. The bed is soft as he lays down, trying his hardest to keep his weight off of his wrists as he lays on his side. Suppose this was his little home for now. He was scared to know what he was listed as. No doubt the woman would tell him soon enough.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm staying – Beginning

“Arthur: the one that got away. What does that mean? The one that got away?”

“It's about losing someone you don't want to. Human stuff.”

“Am I… getting away?”

No matter how hard he had tried, that conversation replayed itself over and over, and try as he might, he couldn’t make it stop. It was like a busted record player, stuck in a loop and it was driving him crazy. The snippets he could remember before he was shut down, the thoughts of where he’d go and that fear he finally felt. It was all disgusting, to feel that weak and vulnerable. And yet… he craved more. To finally understand what the operatives felt – what they went through on a daily basis. He had heard them laugh and he had seen them smile. The fading fear in their eyes as they would return from being kidnapped, and the anger in their voices whenever they would pick fights. He wanted to finally understand.

It wasn’t exactly a request on his part, oh no. One of the operatives had caught his attention one day after they had figured out the truth, conjuring up all sorts of ideas. Make a body for Bagley, sort of like the androids and let him roam freely. At first, he had scoffed at the idea, hurling insults his way, but when the concept came up again, he gave it more thought. He was always sending out the operatives on missions, guiding them through everything. Sometimes they couldn’t even complete them properly, either being apprehended or landing themselves in the hospital. So with a bit less hostility, Bagley let the man continue.

Bradley was to be used as the base model. Same facial structure, eye color, body build – the works. Give him back the life he had lost, and the first thing that came to mind was Arthur. Perhaps, after he learned how to act more human, he could track the man down and see why he was so important to him in the first place.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm Staying – Finding Arthur

“Down, boy,” He watches Dan reluctantly release the man and move back to stand by his side, though his pistol is still drawn. A soft sigh escapes Bagley's lips as he scans the Kelley's optik, just to be sure. Arthur Evans – Johnny Kelley's second-in-command.He knew he was right, but had hoped that he had made some sort of mistake somewhere. Still, he doesn't feel the connection he had hoped he would. Anything that would jar his memories and give him a hint of what he had with the man before Skye Larson had taken it all away from him.

“Who the fuck are you?!” The question is directed solely at Bagley, Arthur's blue eyes wide and looking horrified. Oh, the thoughts that must be going through his head right now.

“I'm Bagley!” he announces proudly, jabbing his elbow against Dan's rib when he hears a soft chuckle. He had a whole speech prepared before this, but looking at Arthur now... had he chosen the right words? He knew how complex human emotions were, and he knew how hostile the Kelleys were. And yet, the curiosity he saw in the man was enough for him to make his decision. “Dan, step outside, will you?”

“And let ya stay in here with this fucker?” he counters. Instead of replying, Bagley just shoos him away, and he's pleasantly surprised when the Irishman takes his leave. The moment the door closes, he steps forward, extending his hand.

“None of this is making sense,” Arthur whimpers out. It's not the tone, or even reaction, he was expecting. He seems dazed, confused, and almost scared. “Just who the hell are you?!”

“I told you. I'm Bagley,” He cocks his head. Had the man not heard him the first time? “I think you know me better as Bradley Lar-”

“Don't,” There's the hostility he was expecting, the hateful look as he grit his teeth. “You don't deserve to say his name!”

“Fine. Since you want to act as a child,” Bagley extends his arms to the side, showing himself off. Arthur is watching him carefully as he turns around, showing off his body and clothes. “I'm Bagley, DedSec's definitely-not-stolen, highly-advanced AI assistant! Do you know who created me? Skye Larson! And do you know whois my neural template?”

“Bradley Larson...” There's a moment where everything goes quiet and still. Before he can say anything else, Arthur is wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace and burying his face in the crook of his neck. It startles him, the feeling of Arthur's breath tickling his neck. He awkwardly brings his hands up, resting them on his back and stroking like he had seen other operatives do when they were consoling someone. This was supposed to make humans feel better right?

“You bastard...” There's a wavering in his voice, something Bagley can't detect. He only realizes the man is close to crying when he pulls back, tears filling his eyes. “You left me, you know that? Planned the wedding and fucking left...”

“I didn't mean to,” he tells him softly, “Or rather, Bradley didn't mean to. I'm still trying to figure this out. I just-”

Arthur is pressing his lips against his, something Bagley easily recognizes as a kiss. This was meant to be a sign of affection, right? This was good, right? He's slow but he finally pushes back against the man, his hands traveling down to rest comfortably on his hips. He knows there's something he should be feeling right now; positive he should be feeling as desperate as Arthur is acting. There is something deep inside him that feels like it wants to awaken, but for some reason he can't make it come out.

WD: Legion – Even if I Die Tonight – Ending of Chapter 9

When the doors open, he follows her down the hall and in front of her flat, waiting patiently as she unlocks the door and flicks on the light. He nearly jumps when he sees Michael groggily sit up, eyes squinted as he looks at them. He finally smiles brightly after a few seconds, waving at Dan.

“Didn't think she'd be bringing you over!” he laughs out, “You guys couldn't have gone next door? It's late.”

Dan can feel his face heating up as he follows Rabbit to another room, the woman yelling at her friend to stay quiet. She tries to ease his nerves, telling him to not listen to him as she sits him down on the bed. The room smells exactly like her perfume and he can't help but look around, laying his jacket on the covers next to him. Just like the rest of the flat, there isn't much. A couple dressers and the bed he sat on, along with a bedside table that held a small, porcelain lamp. However, he can see the stack of books piled up across the room, though it's hard to make out the titles.

“You read?” he asks, catching her attention. She's over by the window, and he can hear things clanking around. Did she store items in a mug?

“Sometimes, when I can actually focus,” she responds. He's surprised to see a small pair of scissors in her hand as she walks back over. Just like last time, her touch is gentle as she cups his face, using her thumb to pull his lip ever so slightly. A soft warning and he hears that little snip as she cuts the thread. There's a little bit of pressure he almost doesn't even register, and once she's set the thread on the bedside table, she cut the remaining stitch.

“Do you read?” The question catches him off guard and he looks up at her. She's not smiling at him but her eyes... oh, he could easily get lost in them. There's a sort of serenity in there, overpowering other emotions he couldn't quite explain, but it drags him in and all he can do is nod. “What do you like?”

“History, mostly,” This seems to make her perk up, and he's pleasantly surprised to hear that was her favored subject. He can't help but smile, especially when she takes a seat next to him on the bed. Their conversation carries on about books, what subjects they prefer to read, and what they like overall. He's not surprised when they don't share many stories, but it's still interesting to listen to. She brings up being interested in psychology, but scoffs when he asks if she ever read any good books regarding the topic. “They're all a load of self-help bullshit.” He can only chuckle. He never really was interested in psychology himself, but she did make it sound interesting; knowing how the human mind worked, what made people tick. He supposed he saw the appeal.

He doesn't stay too long, guilt setting in that he's keeping the woman up so late. Grabbing his jacket and standing up, he follows Rabbit as she walks him out, and he can only laugh when she picks up a pillow to hit Michael when he makes another comment regarding the two. Still, they both wish him a goodnight as he exits the flat, and he can hear their muffled voices on the other side as he closes the door. He shakes his head, though he can't pull the smile from his face as he works on unlocking the door to his flat and slipping inside.

He brushes his fingers over his lip, an odd feeling of relief washing over him when he only feels skin and doesn't come in contact with that damned thread. With a small smile, he makes his way to his room, shedding his clothes and kicking off his boots. Hesitating for just a bit, he makes his way over to the dresser, pulling open one of the drawers and peering inside. He tries to bury the feeling of surprise that comes over him when he sees his gun is still tucked beneath some clothes, sitting right where he had left it.

Shutting the drawer, he moves over to his bed, crawling inside and underneath the blankets. He's not too tired; not enough to the point he'll fall asleep as soon as he head hits the pillow, but he also doesn't have enough energy to find something to pass the time. So instead, he settles on closing his eyes, letting his mind wander here and there. The new job, the hope of getting Bagley back, the newly taken out stitches, the smug look on Michael's face and the peaceful feeling Rabbit radiated. Before he knows it, he's fast asleep.

#snippets

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