#{para;} City of Souls

[mperosx]

City of Souls || Insoo&Eros

{{ The events in this thread happen after the first meeting with Insoo and Eros in *Feathers Keep Fallin’ On My Head* in which Insoo learns that Eros is just checking on his newest pairing— Insoo and Hua! The two become friends and often talk of their relationships with their respective partners; the good, the bad and the funny! This thread also takes places before Insoo and Hua depart for Seoul! For the incredible @mpinsoo }}

—*

     The god is excited as he races down the stairs toward the interior exit from in upper home to Minx below. He’s got about fifteen minutes before he gets to meet up with one of his favorite demigods, one half of a couple he’s extremely proud of. Today he will be meeting with Insoo again and having a lunch to catch up on his relationship with the young Hua!

  Locking the interior door behind him Eros beelines for the main door faster than fast and collects an arrangement of silk flowers he commissioned to give to Insoo in congratulations. With one last peek at his appearance Eros leaves for his meeting.

———————- twenty minutes later——

   “Insoo! Here!” Eros waves to him over the crowd in the restaurant, calling out to his friend loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to disturb the other diners.

   Reseating himself he smiles brightly as the other man joins him at the table he’s reserved for them. It’s a pleasant day so he’s seated nearest the window and is dressed in light spring colors that pair well with his pink hair. He’s once again thwarted in his efforts to have black-dyed hair, the natural pink color of his forcing itself forward.

[sealestialangel]

  

　     𓏲　deep dark nps　｡　　🌃 　　₊ ˚⊹

　　　　　    req｡ by anon + fem╱neu╱masc ᵔᵔ　₊

  

⠀⠀❛ 🌀｡ ⠀names

ward，warden，wardie╱wardy，guard，guardian，guardie╱guardy，protector，screech，soul，sculk，infection╱infected，dark，darkness，brack，bracken，dust╱dusty，coal，blue，cyan，eamonn，delmira，gertrude，bern，bernie，bernadette，amaya，ciarán，jet╱jett，charna，laila╱layla，nyx，erebus，nycto，caligo，kira╱kiera，blaque，sullivan，delvin，aniceta，cian，ciannait，prisca，priscilla，banshee，aldonas，galarr，agasaya，kyousei，hawar，kekrops，kiran，aphra╱afrah╱aphrah，nephele，brona╱bronagh，cass，cassie，cassandra，lethia，hulda ｡

⠀⠀❛ 💠｡ ⠀pronouns

it╱its，that╱thats，that thing╱that things，thing╱things，cre╱creature，creature╱creatures，ward╱wards，ward╱warden，warden╱wardens，guard╱guards，patrol╱patrols，protect╱protects，su╱summon，summon╱summons，soul╱souls，app╱approach，approach╱approachs，bli╱blind，eye╱less，eye╱eyeless，deep╱deeps，deep╱dark，dark╱darks，dark╱darkness，echo╱echos，echo╱locate，echo╱echolocate，echolocate╱echolocates，shriek╱shrieks，scre╱screech，screech╱screechs，scre╱scream，scream╱screams，wail╱wails，sculk╱sculks，pulse╱pulses，para╱parasite，parasite╱parasites，infect╱infects，infect╱infection，spread╱spreads，dea╱death，death╱deaths，cata╱catalyst，catalyst╱catalysts，sensor╱sensors，noi╱noise，noise╱noises，struct╱structure，structure╱structures，city╱citys，civ╱civs，civ╱civilization，civilization╱civilizations，ruin╱ruins，ruin╱ruined，home╱homes，anci╱ancient，ancient╱ancients，old╱olds，time╱times，mine╱mines，mine╱mining，mining╱minings，dig╱digs，dig╱digging，digging╱diggings，pick╱axe，pick╱picks，pick╱pickaxe，pickaxe╱pickaxes，ore╱ores，dia╱diamond，diamond╱diamonds，coal╱coals，gold╱golds，iron╱irons，red╱redstone，redstone╱redstones，test╱tests，sci╱science，science╱sciences，eerie╱eeries，scare╱scary，scary╱scarys，deep╱blue，blue╱blues，navy╱navys，navy╱blue，cyan╱cyans⦂ 🌃╱🌃s，🌌╱🌌s，🌀╱🌀s，💠╱💠s，🌐╱🌐s，🩻╱🩻s，⛏️╱⛏️s，💎╱💎s，🕳️╱🕳️s，💧╱💧s，🧊╱🧊s，🔊╱🔊s，🏚️╱🏚️s，🥼╱🥼s，🔭╱🔭s，🔬╱🔬s，💿╱💿s，📀╱📀s ｡

[gilbirda]

New idea for Jazz x Jason, with historical soulmates, reincarnation, some magic lore around the world and full of romance. Don't know if I'm going to write it. This is long so, be patient.

Meet You In Our Next Live AU

(got inspired by the title and summary of a webtoon, but didn't read it)

So, Jason and Jazz are soulmates that have been reincarnating around the history for centuries. The first time they met they fell in love, performed a soul binding promise of marriage and every time one die they won't reincarnate til the other dies and they reincarnate together (same year or next year). But doesn't always happen on the same place, and they won't remember each other until they have 21 yo, because they performed the marriage at that age.

So over the history they have been reincarnating with different names and gender and they always remember their past lives at 21 and find each other because their souls are connected. The problem is, they don't always end together, because external circunstances, a few times because sadly one died before the other, and had to live without the other (and because what's true romantic love without some angst?). But most of the time they end up together because Love Wins! They just connect and complement each other.

A little big fact: their souls always reincarnate in places over the ley lines, which are full of soul energy, called by moder para-scientis as "ectoplasm". This is important.

And we are in the 21st century, where Jason Todd was born in the grim and over a ley line city of Gotham and Jazz Fenton was born in the not yet most haunted but over a ley line town of Amity Park.

Both grew up with their not common lives: Jason a street kid adopted by billonaire and crime fighter Bruce Wayne and Jazz with the mad scientists Dr Fenton and Dr Fenton. Both of them ignore they are soulmates.

And then Jason dies.

Now, as I explained, if one dies the other will eventually learn about their death and go on until they next life. But the thing is, when Jason is brought to Gotham, the soul energy/ectoplasm of the city attach on his body, returning him to life and forcefully putting his binded soul back. Which good. But wrong.

Because this anomaly, making Jason a death-touched man, violenty killed when he was a kid, full of angry against the world and mad because he can't understand what is wrong with his body and life (add the League of Assassins messing up his life) he feels wrong and has this attacks of rage. When he died, he remembered, and when he was reanimated, the soulbinding magic was hurt.

And so, when he's 21, he doesn't remember.

Meanwhile, Jazz is the sister of the young Ghost King. They have a fallout with their parents, so after she ended her regency over her brother's rule (because I'm a simp of Queen Regent Jazz) she went to study to a college very away from Illinois (not Gotham) and when she's 21 she remembers.

And oh, Ancients. The soulbinding is not a mental GPS but a sort of a compass. And she knows where she has to go.

Ofc, she first talks with her brother why she suddenly wants to take a sabbatical year in the middle of her studies when she was his regent in the first place was that "school is important and I don't care if you have an infinity ghostly realm, you will finish high school or so help me..." so she informs what's going on.

Danny is sceptical but he may be the Ghost King but as her little brother he can't do anything but give a mean shovel talk to her intended.

CW (who follows Jazz x Jason story like the most longest romantic telenovela ever, popcorn included) stays silent about the matter and just wish her luck. Jazz is Suspicious but doesn't say anything, and goes back to the Living World to search for her soulmate, wherever her soulbinding-gut sends her.

And that's how Jazz ends in Gotham.

Sorry for hogging this ask!

I'm setting this idea free for the taking ❤✨

[mily12]

Songs of the Soul

Hello, this is my first fanfic and I hope you like it. If you want, you can leave ideas and maybe we can do something cool by putting them together ❤️ Forgive me for any writing mistakes.

Gif is not mine.

English is not my first language 🤍

1440 words ☆

It was not to be expected that all you would find in the lands that were once green, would be only death and destruction. It was not to be expected that one day all those you loved would be gathered together and reduced to nothing less than the dust of the earth. But this was obvious, from dust we are made and to dust we shall return.

The truth is that in this era you could not expect anything else, these lands are cursed and nothing more! One day what was a beautiful place and the next just ashes. But as it was said before, nothing to expect, not even a love from someone who could not feel anything other than the desire for power, or maybe everyone thought so, or maybe even the one who claims to be the great Sauron thought so. Could it be that the master deceiver is so skilled in his skills that he can deceive himself?

You were mortal, completely, made only of skin and bones. You would not be powerful like the beautiful elves, much less so strong as to break a rock with your hands like the dwarves. Reduced and condemned to this, just a mere mortal. But what made the lord of deceit cast his eyes upon you?

You didn't possess the light that the elves so adored, but even so he found himself wishing to be closer to you.

“You should try to get some rest,” his voice echoes in a worried tone as a touch rests on the shoulder of the one you met a few days ago.

“Seriously Halbrand, I don’t see you resting and eating just a little” you sit down next to him, letting your foot touch the ocean water that was dangerously freezing.

“There’s no way to rest when all I see is just darkness and more water wherever I look,” he mumbles and looks at your face, as if he was looking into your soul, with a deep gaze that would easily make anyone else move away and avoid contact with the dark-haired man.

But not you, you were different and it was already driving you crazy! The first time you met, on the road, instead of fear or anything like that, you felt a chill. It's like something had changed inside you, like songs from the soul.

“Okay, but rest, I'm sure you'll soon end up passing out from exhaustion” the best of the best smiles found their way onto her beautiful face.

It was no secret that since your youth, you were someone who always tried to think of the best, even in the worst situations, like now, stranded in the middle of the sea with a beast on the loose.

After some recent events, you found yourself admiring the great island of Numenor. After all, who wouldn't admire the island that was gifted to you by the Valar themselves! You had only heard stories of great constructions that men could not make, but apparently, on this island they could.

It was like a chance to redeem himself, to forget the recent past that haunted the southern lands.

“ Isto é tão lindo” você arfou com surpresa ao tocar em todas as estruturas que conseguia ao caminhar pela bela cidade. Halbrand se pegou sorrindo para sua reação, claro que o lugar de onde ele veio, isso era apenas o mais simples de todos.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he pulled your hand to walk through the city. A few days were what the Queen Regent was given to think about whether you would leave for your lands, but of course you didn’t want to go back, you would never go back to that place again. Yes, it was the idea of the elf you met on the way, the horrible thing about it is that she acted as if she had something with Halbrand, a connection and you felt jealous, of course, why didn’t you?

You were with him on the road, on the shipwreck and now at this moment, why did she have the right to arrive when the caravan was already moving and get involved in this as if she were doing something bigger?

You were overthinking, causing Halbrand to look at your face and wonder why your brow was furrowed like you had just tasted lemon.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll end up with wrinkles,” he smiled playfully as he approached you and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. The act made your heart race. It’s these small acts that not only make your heart warm, but your breath catch, your throat close, or even as if your soul were dancing a new dance.

For heaven's sake, you didn't know why your body betrayed you so easily.

“The elf, Galadriel.. do you trust her?”

You bit your lip waiting for the answer, of course the way you were incredibly nervous, and looked down with your eyes, were visibly pathetic in his eyes. Pathetically beautiful, that was what the dark lord didn't understand, how a being so inferior to his existence made him feel these feelings.

“Trust is a very strong word, there is only one person I trust and she is right in front of me jealous” he smiled mischievously making you shy under his gaze, jealousy? Was that what he thought you felt? Well, he was right.

“I’m not jealous” you pouted and by the gods that exist, he found it so cute, it was a beautiful sight that he would want to keep in his memory for the rest of his existence.

He smiled even more and came closer, closing the distance between you, leaning in and whispering in your ear. “I have my eyes on you.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and began to move away only to look at you again and say

“Come on, we have to explore the whole city.” You stood still for a few seconds, as if every simple gesture this man made caused you to go completely awry? If this was paradise, then you prayed that whatever powerful force existed would never allow you to leave.

“Wait”

you ran and ended up colliding with his fully defined back, the smell of iron and salt that was his unique aroma entered your nostrils, so good you thought.

“And if I were jealous, what would I say? “

você mordeu o lábio inferior admitindo que realmente sentia um pouco. Ele se virou lentamente e uma risada true retumbou em seu peito. Lentamente ele abaixou seus dedos para que alcançasse seus lábios e fez um pequeno gesto de carinho.

“Then I would ask you to become my wife.”

He looked deep into your eyes, but never wavered. To your surprise he grabbed your waist and there was no more space between you.

“What?”

He repeated the words, as if he had somehow disbelieved them.

“Marry me”

He whispered again, looking at her lips for a brief moment before looking into her eyes again.

“Be mine and only mine, I will give you everything you want, little by little everything will be at your command”

He closed the distance between you with a kiss that at first was something passionate, but over the seconds it became more needy, something that had been desired for so long. When the need for oxygen became present, you lightly touched his chest, completely relaxed by your touch.

" Yes"

You said breathlessly with the brightest smile plastered on your face.

“And you will be mine, only mine”

You exclaim before leaving a small kiss on his face. You said that nothing that came from the south would be good, but you never imagined finding someone that you would love so much.

Finding your other soul, after all, wouldn't be just anyone who would make both of your souls vibrate in this way. As if a greater force had brought you both together, and you would make the most of it. And he himself didn't know he could feel any other feeling, much less love! Who would have thought that such a corrupted being would be capable of feeling the purest of feelings. He wished for more and more power, but at this moment not so that Middle Earth would fall at his feet, but to protect his beloved. At this moment, you and only you are the most important being in your existence now, with your eyes completely fixed on you and your souls in perfect harmony.

A song that only the two of you can understand.

[airxn]

𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐗𝐍 . an independent dual oc rp blog featuring the twins airin and xavier. two retired mercenaries who've settled in nyc to work for the infamous supernatural bar– the gear shift. featuring aus: borderlands, legend of zelda, dc, fallout, dnd, and more!

edited in after effects by luri | blonde dynamite by caravan palace transcription under the cut

00:00 – Video begins. Blonde Dynamite by Caravan Palace begins to play. The background that is throughout the video is a city with white lights and a dark gray background. It fades into view.

00:02 – Text that reads "AIRXN - independent oc rp blog" pops onto the screen.

00:05 – Transition to text that reads "Featuring: Airin – shape-shifter, founder, lil' shit". Images of Airin as a felicid (golden canid creature with a mane) and as a human (a golden blond bitch) transition through the screen to the beat.

00:11 – Transition to text that reads "And his brother: Xavier – soul eater, anti-social bastard". Images of Xavier (very handsome man with long, black hair) transition across the screen.

00:15 – In the center of the screen an image of human Airin and Xavier together pops in. The text "wicked" and "wired" appear on the screen to the beat.

00:17 – Image of human Airin pops up on the left. The text "semi-selective" slides in from screen from the right.

00:19 – Image of a snarling felicid Airin pops into the center of the screen. On the left the text "canon friendly" pops in with the beat. The text "in love with ocs" pops on the right with the beat.

00:22 – Image of snarling felicid Airin pops forward to reveal his dullas (purple, frill-like appendages that shake rapidly). The image slides downward.

00:23 – Image of Xavier lounging slides down from the top of the screen. The text "multi-para" transitions onto the screen.

00:24 – The prior image flips to a monster-appearing Xavier. The text becomes "multi-para and whimsical".

00:26 – Image of luri (small, ginger gremlin with a red hoodie, black tights, and two leaves floating above her head) transitions into the center of the screen. In a circle around her, the text reads "loved by luri". The image and text fades out with by flickering out of view.

00: 28 – Text transitions in stating "Featuring alternate universes: legend of zelda, outlast trials, fallout, dnd/baldur's gate, borderlands, dc, owl house." Text transitions in below the prior text "ft. highly adaptable crossover verse".

00:36 – The text "you're going to find me probably weird" appears behind the prior text. The text transitions out with a pop.

00:40 – Animation of human Airin, Xavier, and Luri bop to the beat on the bottom of the screen. The text "Other info: drawn and irl icons, 18+, sporadic activity, favors light plotting, multi-ship, 10+ years of rp experience" transitions into the center of the screen. The scene transitions out with glitch effect.

00:50 – The text "airxn.tumblr.com" transitions into the center of the screen and fades away.

01:00 – Video ends.

this transcription isn't perfect so please let me know what corrections can be made, thank you!

[seekforwarmth]

hello and welcome to the february fic rec featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Time Stamp: Valentine's Day from Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (E, 1.7k, established relationship, romantic trip, valentine’s day) A romantic weekend away for Valentine's Day

໑ i want real love baby (don't leave me waiting) by loulovep (NR, 2k, established relationship (or not?), farmer harry, city boy louis, fluff, valentine’s day) Harry thought of the perfect date for (his boyfriend?) Louis. Nothing goes to plan.

໑ a little bit of you by @lvinlou (T, 2.3k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o, fairy louis) Louis is a cute omega who loves autumn and baking cupcakes. However, when he goes to the supermarket to get the last ingredient for his recipe, strawberry jam, he meets Harry, a grumpy alpha who is unwilling to hand over the last jar.

໑ your face is like a melody by @meloummy (NR, 2.4k, alternate universe, friends to lovers, singer louis, stage fright) Where Louis is a singer who needs his boy in the most critical moments.

Or where Harry helps his superstar and shows him how much he loves him.

໑ I'm gonna love you forever and ever by houisminou (M, 3k, established relationship, a/b/o au) louis is independent, he is a free omega, except when he is with his alpha, then he just wants to be holded and taken care of

໑ the prints of your hands are still on my canvas by puppyvirginloui (NR, 4.5k, exes to lovers, a/b/o au, nesting, jealous harry) Harry and Louis broke up not long ago. Everything was fine until then, problems started with Louis’ heat just around the corner, an important presentation that he could not miss, and a very visible (or more like invisible) alpha that could help him go through his heat.

And then Harry shows up. (Again.)

໑ no one's gonna take my soul away by puppyvirginloui (spanish, NR, 6.7k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, dark fic, shapeshifting, read tags and author’s note) Nunca te metas con un omega en celo.

໑ and then, i wait there for you by punk_pillow_princess / @punkpillowprincess (M, 9k, established relationship, marriage proposal, valentine’s day, miscommunication) Harry has always dreamed of having his “happily ever after”, but hasn't found the right one yet. Suddenly, he meets Louis.

໑ Fortune cookies by DaxitaIsDaydreaming (spanish, T, 10.6k, friends to lovers, valentine’s day) Louis y Harry han sido amigos desde que tienen memoria. Catorce años, para ser justos. Están enamorados el uno del otro pero ninguno cree conveniente confesarlo por temor a perder la amistad que han construido durante todos estos años. Sin embargo, San Valentín les tiene preparado una sorpresa. Un pequeño empujón en forma de galletas de la fortuna. Depende de ellos el futuro de su relación.

໑ The Unsuccessful Promise by @trysomecats (T, 15k, enemies to lovers, a/b/o au, high school) At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status.

Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.

໑ Gemini Rising by Speechless (E, 23.4k, roommates au, quirky harry, frustrated louis, angst and humour) Louis might as well give it a shot.

Maybe - just maybe - if he starts crossing boundaries in the same reckless way Harry does, that lunatic will get the message.

So he starts invading Harry's space any way he can think of.

໑ You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams by @starryhazelou (E, 30k, strangers to lovers, soulmates au, cowboy harry, veterinarian louis, light angst) Finding your soulmate had been described to Harry as, “finding the answers to the universe.” As the years passed, he would become restless trying to find his. Everyone was born with identical birthmarks on their bodies tying them together. With the combination of living in a small town, along with having a mark that was constantly obstructed by clothing, he was beginning to lose hope.

໑ the road not taken by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2 (E, 35k, friends with benefits, famous harry, non-famous louis, holidays) The one where Harry returns back home for the holidays after a successful debut album, leaving Louis to unwrap gifts as well as old complicated feelings. Cue: hometown holiday hookups, overbearing siblings, and a disastrous New Year’s Eve party. A 'Tis’ the Damn Season' inspired au.

໑ give my love a four letter name by @levelofcharm (E, 46.6k, enemies to lovers, angel/demon relationship, angel louis, demon harry, supernatural elements) Louis hates Harry because he's a demon. Harry hates Louis because Louis hates him. Things change.

໑ Paradise is getting closer by louislovesh28 (M, 52.6k, friends with benefits, supernatural au, hunter louis, journalist harry, read tags) Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied.He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

— extra —  

i don’t usually self promo here but i’d like to invite all of you to read the smau my friend and i are working on. it updates daily in the morning (central time). please check it out, it’s called Running with the Wolves.

[moonthay]

Cities!Tale

Continuação do post SOULS/ALMAS

Em um mundo onde havia de início apenas uma espécie humanos-monstros que se difundiu a três espécies havia três irmãos líderes:

Príncipe Asgore futuro rei dos monstros, Príncipe Raj Lazyell eleito líder dos humanos por sua alma de determinação e príncipe Zaki prodígio adolescente líder do clã dos híbridos

Eles viviam em paz até Lazyell iniciar uma guerra junto com o clã de humanos que temia o poder dos monstros de absorverem suas almas, Lazyell manipulou os outros magos para concordarem com ele exceto Zaki que fugiu e criou a Cidade da Lua para proteger os híbridos da guerra com o poder do seu cajado

Os monstros estavam quase sendo totalmente massacrados pelo clã até..

(Ps: eu desenhei verde apenas pra representar o traço ok? Ele tem uma cor normal de pele só desenhei assim)

"-Eu não concordei com isso Lazyell, eu e Integridade e Paciência não concordamos com o extermínio total dos monstros... Vamos apenas prender essas aberrações no subsolo com um feitiço mágico, era isso que Zaki iria querer.."

Disse o Mago de Gentileza para Raj que acabou concordando para não perder a confiança do clã e assim a barreira foi criada, mas alguns monstros aviam ficado de fora junto com os humanos-monstros e Gentileza começou a pressionar Raj a fazer as pazes com seu irmão e trazer Zaki de volta

No entanto... Lazyell não queria que um pirralho atrapalhasse seus planos de novo

"Irmão... Liberte-os... Deixe meu povo em paz"-Zaki

"Você está muito doente, descanse que amanhã libertarei os monstros."-Raj Lazyell

Mas... Ele mentiu e o matou, os olhos prateados de Zaki nunca mais se abriram, ele disse para todos que o irmão não avia sobrevivido a doença

No entanto, os híbridos de traços desenvolvidos foram aceitos de volta a sociedade, mas aqueles que não tinham traço foram jogados no subsolo

Antes desse conflito acontecer Asgore pediu a Toriel para ficar e cuidar do seu irmãozinho então ela ficou para cuidar de Zaki, mas agora com ele morto só restando suas cinzas Lazyell faz uma proposta a ela de não contar nada e continuar na superfície como freira e ser a nova líder dos híbridos, ou ser jogada no subsolo junto com os outros

E é essa a decisão que divide M!UT! Original de Cities!Tale em MoonFanchild Tale, em Cities!Tale Toriel assume a governança da Cidade da Lua para cuidar das crianças órfãs em um orfanato e no universo original desse multiverso ela escolhe ser jogada e a história continua como conhecemos

Cities!Toriel entregou a urna com as cinzas de Zaki ao subsolo para que Cities!Asgore soubesse o que aconteceu com o irmão dele que se espalha pelo jardim real dando origem a Moon Flowey que era o espírito de Zaki em uma flor

Cities!Flowey, Flor da Lua ou Moon Flowey é o Flowey dessa au já que Asriel nunca nasceu Zaki assume esse papel.

Em um dia uma criança chega ao orfanato que era meio...familiar

Cities!Chara era descendente distante de Lazyell que avia morrido a muito tempo, Cities!Toriel adota elu como seu filho/a e conta a história de como tudo começou e Cities!Chara decide ir ao subsolo e encontra Moon Flowey que juntos tentam bolar um plano para salvar os monstros.

O rei de início queria eliminar Chara lembrando de seu irmão(Lazyell), mas como a criança também o lembrava de Zaki decidiu poupar-lo/la

No plano, Moon Flowey absorve a alma de Chara voltando a sua forma Zaki só que como um deus e cruza a barreira só que ele não concorda em eliminar toda a humanidade como Chara queria tendo piedade dos humanos e morrendo novamente voltando a ser uma flor

Cities!Asgore decide guerra contra a humanidade e todo humano que ali caísse deveria ser morto

Muitos anos se passaram e uma nova criança chega ao orfanato por volta dos anos 1939 a 1945 filho de um soldado britânico que não avia resistido...

Cities!Frisk era quieto, não gostava de brincar ou conversar, estava em completo luto pela morte do pai e as outras crianças estranharam seu comportamento

"Por que aquele esquisito sempre é grosso com a gente?"

"Vamos mostrar pra ele que ele não pode nos ignorar."

Assim, um grupo de garotos do orfanato convenceu Frisk de ir ao monte e ali o empurraram, mas quando viram que ele não retornou contaram para a Madre Superiora Toriel que foi atrás da criança que estava perdida no subsolo

Cities!Frisk então caído naquele mundo decide explorar e tentar achar alguma forma de sair tendo vários desencontros com Cities!Toriel que também estava lá a procura do mesmo

Ele acabou se apegando as criaturas de lá, no fundo a única coisa que ele queria era que a guerra acabasse e que todos pudessem viver em paz, a guerra foi o que levou o seu pai e ele não queria perder mais nada nem ninguém

Cities!Frisk faz a rota neutra enfrentando Omega Moon Flowey e a pacifista no fim salvando Zaki que com o poder das almas quebra a barreira libertando os monstros de uma vez por todas do subsolo

Cities!Toriel renuncia seu cargo de freia assim finalmente podendo ter uma família, ela perdoou Cities!Asgore pelo o que ele fez com as outras crianças do orfanato que foram caindo no subsolo e finalmente pode ter um filho e Zaki pode descansar em paz

....

Bem você quer saber qual é o outro final não é? Tem como fazer uma rota genocida com a arma que está portando ou... Dedurar o esconderijo da Cidade da Lua para os alemães assim Cities!Chara no final dessa rota te chama de dedo duro e te elimina como já faria

É isso! Essa au é da minha autoria que eu comecei fazendo apenas pra ter um orfanato em MoonFanchild Tale e acabei criando um universo alternativo de undertale, se quiserem que eu traga mais conteúdo de Cities!Tale aqui é só pedir que talvez eu desenhe mais afundo da história deles que também será contada nas HQs de MoonFanchild Tale

Muitíssimo obrigada por ter lido até aqui! Se gostou comente e curte para eu continuar e até a próxima My Black Diamonds!^-^

[blackheart-rpg]

BLACK HEART RPG. [18+ // Multi-fandom]

✘・18 + rp community & make no exceptions to this } ✘・dark town rp / multi-fandom server for disney, dreamworks, bridgerton, kingdom hearts, final fantasy, shakespeare, acotar, beetlejuice, books & more } ✘・real life face claims only } ✘・sample required for full entry into this group } DISCORD lxl LEARN MORE lxl TAKEN MUSES lxl ACCEPTED VERSES

It happened so fast — just like that, a strange curse enveloped the world, stripping away the fairy tale life and intertwining it into a modern world. It altered the very course of everyone's lives and shrouded their memories in an unbreachable haze. There are no answers to sort through in its wake, 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅, and, seemingly, no hope to rally behind. All they're certain of is that the language of Starfall City is 𝒔𝒊𝒏... What they don't know is how literal that is. Every soul is tied to a magicless realm by one of the seven deadly sins, leaving them all to wrestle with their own demons just as the city grapples with its own past. No one knows the trail they once led, only their belief in the one that they walk now. Will they seek atonement or are they intent on 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏?

・・・Come join as our Halloween event is just starting, 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒕: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍!

╭・・♕ ‧ ₊˚・ ・𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓. . . ┇・LGBTQ+ accepting community! ┇・Expansive and in-depth lore with creative growth & potential. ┇・Friendly & punctual staff, attentively active admins. NO TOLERANCE for OOC drama/toxicity. ┇・Multi-Para + / Literate writing. ┇・We offer 95+ role-play channels with descriptions and visuals. ┇・Friendly active community that is open to discuss with one another and integrate characters into the story with well-thought-out dynamics. ┇・Text-based writing, social media and housing options for your muses. ┇・1x1 & Group Storylines. ┇・OOC Channels, Book Clubs, Movie Nights & Game nights. ╰・・♕ ‧ ₊˚・

We still have many characters we'd love to see ~! Come joins us before upcoming stories begin to unfold ~

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"ANYTHING WORTH SEEING, SISTER?"

No soy creyente, pero para él, soy lo que él quiera que sea.

I hope you like the story!

Sister Megan hurried through the halls of her home with the pages of the newspaper in her hand. Before each publication, Father Charlie had asked her to bring him each and every article so that he could review them before they came to light.

At first, the city police did not look kindly on the fact that a nun, a daughter of God and sanctified in her faith, would write in a gruesome manner about the supposedly ritual murders that were taking place in those days.

Father Charlie was morbidly curious about everything related to murder and death, which is why he felt a strong connection with Sister Megan from the first moment.

Charlie was not a conventional priest. According to him, as he had explained to the bishop and the mother superior at the meeting last month, if they did not do something to modernize the church in some way, it would end up dying. Of course, none of them were interested in that happening, given the amount of money that thanks to the parishioners they put in their pockets at the end of each month.

So they decided to listen to Charlie. That's how he ended up giving online classes of what he called "Christian spinning." Basically it consisted of videos of him riding an electric bicycle pedaling while Christian music played in the background. From time to time he recited a psalm from the Bible.

Megan knew she was in the middle of class when she heard the sound of the bicycle pedals. Instead of leaving, she chose to hide behind the corner of the door, so that he wouldn't see her. Her gaze shifted to his strong back.

Well, to tell the truth, she didn't know where to look first.

His chest was covered by a red tank top, which made his back look more powerful and muscular than usual. Her hands gripped tightly on either side of the handlebars, making the veins on them stand out even more against her skin.

"You're saving your souls with every pedal stroke," she assured, pushing her hair back with her hand. "Come on!" she encouraged, exhaling air through her mouth before inhaling again through her nose.

Megan knew she shouldn't be looking at him like that. It was wrong and she knew it, but she couldn't stop looking. Father Charlie was like a drug she was addicted to.

She felt a strong pressure between her legs when she saw how several drops of sweat slid down his broad back to get lost under the waistband of his shorts. Lost in her thoughts as she was, she didn't realize that her class had ended. She stopped the recording, and before he turned around and caught her red-handed, she got out of there as fast as her short legs would allow.

She came back a while later hoping he could give the article his thumbs up. She walked into the bathroom, where the steam from the shower was rising. She stood in front of the door, just as he was putting on his towel with his back to her. Of course he knew she was there. He tilted his head to look at her, before cracking a lopsided smile.

"I'm sorry, father," she murmured, putting the article over her eyes shyly, before handing it to him without looking at him. "I just wanted you to look over today's article."

He nodded and took it. She took a couple of steps absentmindedly as she read it before announcing her verdict.

-No -he whispered- I don't approve

-It is what it is- she answered quietly-

-We can't publish a story that says the police are blocked and that because of that they have no new leads, it's… -he thought of a way to describe it as his gaze connected with hers through the mirror- boring -he paused- mediocre -he added under her attentive gaze-

He handed her the paper again before turning to the mirror to comb his hair.

-Hey, I'm sorry -he said- I know you know that I think you're a talented writer -he explained- but this seems like you want to keep a low profile, perhaps -he explained- I think we can expect more from your journalistic efforts than that, because… -he laughed, waving his hands in the air in front of him- sorry, but where's the bloodbath? The fear? because it's not in that story

He stepped away from the sink and left the brush on the counter. He slowly turned to her, looking at her with feigned calm. Megan had never felt a gaze reflecting so many indeterminate things on her.

He approached her so that he was in front of her, so close that she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he said:

"Don't worry," he whispered before bringing his lips to her ear. "It's all part of the process," he said with a hoarse voice. "The wait," he added before starting to walk down the hall. "You're very observant," he said as he walked. "That's what makes you such a good journalist." He put his hand on the wall for a few seconds to look at her. "You like to observe."

The way he said it made her legs tremble, among other things.

Megan managed to come out of her lethargy a few moments later to follow his steps.

"Maybe I'm stuck," she murmured hastily. "Maybe I need to try harder," she said. "You're right, there's always something worth seeing," she claimed, "if you look close enough."

"You were watching me," she pointed at her with her head, "earlier in the training room." She took the ring off her finger and left it on a small wooden cabinet in the hallway. Megan followed the movement with her eyes. "Anything worth seeing?"

-It was… -she swallowed hard thinking of the right words- the exaltation of the glory of God through physical progress- she explained sitting down in one of the chairs, he did the same in the one in front of her, separated by a few meters-

-It has become a kind of secondary job- he intervened with an amused smile- the Pedaling Priest -he let out a hoarse laugh- I could become a trainer, set up my own academy

Megan preferred to save herself the comment that it was what she could set up.

And it was not exactly a fucking spinning academy.

-Some of the older Bishops ridicule all kinds of excessive exercise as a form of Vanity -he nodded, looking at her for a few moments- they see it as a way of worshipping oneself -he whispered- a sin of the flesh, I think…

-"Or do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you?"-Megan recited- "Therefore, honor God with your bodies"

-Yes -he whispered- exactly

Father Charlie's gaze fell on hers intensely. He rose from his chair to close the door that connected to the other part of the hallway, leaving them both completely alone and isolated.

Megan's gaze followed his movements, until he slowly returned to stand in front of her.

-They're talking about this right now in the Vatican, he said, - they've convened an Ecumenical Council to negotiate a radical change that would completely ruin all the archaic interpretations that figure in the scriptures concerning sex and lifestyle.

-And perhaps, possibly… - he whispered, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger so that she would look up at him - potentially - he murmured, strengthening his grip - celibacy for those who belong to the clergy.

-Oh - Megan stammered - that's hard to imagine.

-Do you think so? -she whispered, tangling her fingers in the gold chain with the cross she wore around her neck- the parishioners are losing faith -she said, beginning to unbutton the buttons of her novice vest with exasperating slowness- and young people are not being called to serve in the way it was done before

-Mhm -she murmured, trying to pay attention to what she was saying despite the situation-

-The Church is dying, and both the Bishops and the Pope know it- she said, finishing unbuttoning the last button, drawing a sigh from Megan's lips- change is coming

Silence took over the room, Megan's gaze then shifted to the towel that covered her and she removed it with a quick movement. She observed him for a few moments before raising her gaze to his dark eyes.

-It is still a sin -she said firmly-

He crouched down until he was at her height. He took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist, where her pulse was beating fast.

"We are…" he began as she rose from the chair to be at his height.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around, as if they were dancing.

"And we will always be," he continued, resting his hands on her shoulders, pushing her against the wall.

"Sinners," she finished in a sigh that resembled a low moan.

"So, fuck it," he murmured, removing her vest and unbuttoning the buttons on her white blouse.

He bent down to kiss her neck, making her tilt her neck to give him better access. His lips left soft kisses from her collarbone to the area where her pulse was beating on the side of her neck. Then he moved down to the area above her breasts, leaving increasingly messy kisses and the occasional bite that made her squirm against him.

She tried to put her arms around his back, to feel his flexed muscles. But he wouldn't let her. He gently took her arms and separated them, leaving one on each side of her head, so that she was open for him.

Megan realized then that she hadn't kissed him on the lips. How was it possible that she was so excited then? She decided not to think about it anymore and focus on him. His hungry gaze lowered to her skirt for a few moments. He lifted her by the hips to sit her on the desk. He slid his hand inside her and pulled her panties off.

Megan felt the cold, smooth surface of the wood behind her at the bottom of her legs.

A moan escaped her lips as he entered her without warning. She dug her nails into his back, while he continued to thrust hard into her. The desk resonated with each one.

It was then that Megan felt the presence of God closer than ever before.

[dantakeyoman]

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 | 𝐣. 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡

♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 "𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩" 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐦𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧! 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ * "𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓, 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆. 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒆 '𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏' 𝒇𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚." *

♡ 𝐚/𝐧: 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐨-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐨-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝...

♡ 𝐚/𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠 (𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭), 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬

"𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄 podría ir contigo," Rita suggested with a smirk, giving you a quick nudge before resting her hands behind her back.

A thing she always did when asking for something.

"Alrededor de todos esos americanos, necesitarás a alguien que te cuide la espalda."

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, turning and crossing your arms at your chest like a scolding mother.

"Ya te lo he dicho, sargenta," you denied, "Te necesito aquí mientras Rudy y yo no estamos."

You were the Colonel of the Mexican Special Forces, and Rita was your third in command.

With you and Rudy about to depart on a mission with a special American task force, you needed someone trusted to stay behind and make sure things back home stayed smooth.

"Eres la única persona en la que confío para dirigir este lugar. Te necesito aquí."

Rita nodded, still adamant, but deciding to drop the subject for now.

The last thing Las Almas needed was another war, and everyone on base could feel something brewing with the arrival of the Americans

If they were reaching out to the Vaqueros for help, then the problem was serious.

As if on cue, the sound of a roaring helicopter soared overhead, the dark green vehicle touching down on the tarmac not too far ahead of you two.

"Tambien, estos hombres son soldados de una amiga," you assured, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder, "Estoy en buenas manos."

Rita sighed, turning to watch the ramp lower and the Americans offload.

"Ruego que tengas razón," she wished, giving your back a supportive pat, "Buena suerte."

"Gracias, Rita," you smiled, turning to hold her hand in a firm shake.

You gave her a sincere smile, one that eased the hearts of every soldier there.

"Te volveré a ver pronto. Mantén la cabeza puesta hasta que vuelvo."

She chuckled, nodding as she shook your hand, "Entiendo."

You nodded back, giving her final pat on the back before turning to the helicopter, heading over.

Their hardware was almost completely unloaded, and the two officers you were supposed to meet were descending the ramp

"(y/n)!" The one with the shaggy mohawk called over the helicopter blades, walking strongly towards you.

'Mierda...'

He was huge.

"Sergeant MacTavish," you greeted, holding out your hand to shake.

You remembered his face from the files Laswell sent you.

"Call me Soap," he assured with a smile.

"Lieutenant," you turned to the skull-wearing one, "Laswell tells me they call you Ghost."

"Actually, I believe he prefers to be called-." "That'll do!" Ghost curtly cut Soap off.

You chuckled, nodding for them to follow.

"Sorry we couldn't roll out the red carpet for you boys. My men are little tied up at the moment," you smirked, "Welcome to the City of Souls."

"I've never been to Mexico," Soap chimed.

"This isn't México," you glanced at him out the corner of your eye, "This is Las Almas."

He was interesting.

You knew from books and movies that Scottish people had an accent, but you'd never met in person to here it.

"Shepard's contractors are inbound to reinforce. Their bringing hardware, they'll need room," Ghost stated.

"My base is your base," you nodded, "Take what you need."

"Good. Now, where's Hassan?" He asked as you three approached Rudy's jeep.

"In a cartel safe house ten clicks from here," you stated, opening the passenger, "Get in."

Your men behind finished loading up their jeeps, beginning to file in themselves next.

"En mi marca, hombres!"

"Si, coronel!"

You smiled, taking your seat in the passenger.

"This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra," you introduced, turning to the two in the back.

Rudy sighed, his face uneasy as he grabbed the wheel.

"Yo tengo miedo los phantasmas," he said slyly, making you smile.

The two in the back turned to each other, confused at your quick exchange.

You turned to the back, specifically to Soap, and smirked.

"You know Spanish?"

"No," he shook his head, brow cocked.

You chuckled, facing forward.

 "You will."

𝐈𝐍 order to get to the safehouse, your squad had to drive through the downtown area of Las Almas.

Where the cartel were their most active.

Naturally, a truck passed with a couple cartel enforcers in the back, well-armed.

"White truck, four armed in th'back," Soap reported, quickly gripping his gun.

"Tranquilo, escocé," you calmed, turning, "Easy...that's normal here."

"Guns on the street is jurisdiction of the police," Rudy clarified.

"Where are the police?" Ghost asked.

"There are few to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption...disappear," you answered, truthfully.

"Whit aboot th'military?" Soap asked. 

"Because we're well trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos..." "Why not you?" Simon asked again, bluntly.

You turned to Rudy.

"We grew up here. The people call us Los Vaqueros...Cowboys," you stated, looking out the window.

"This place is home. And we will die fighting for it."

Rudy turned a bend, and at the corner, a couple of narco sympathizers were handing out balloons.

Soap and Ghost shared a wary look.

"Kids, guns, an' balloons...that's a new one," Soap remarked.

"Narcos use generosity to win over the people," Rudy explained, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Even the children?" Soap asked.

"Especially the children," you affirmed, your tone icy.

Glancing out the window again, you noticed a new Narcomanta, tapping Rudy to stop for a moment.

"What's on the sheets?" Ghost asked.

"Narcomantas," Rudy answered, "Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings marking territory."

"Who's Sin Nombre?"

"El Sin Nombre. The Nameless. He's the leader of the Las Almas cartel," you stated.

"Where can we find 'im?" Soap asked, not missing a beat.

You smiled.

'I like him already.'

"If it was that easy, I would've killed him years ago," you half-heartedly chuckled.

"You can't. No one knows who he is. This is the challenge," Rudy sighed.

But you smirked, turning to him, "But Los Vaqueros like challenges."

Just ahead, a couple of army jeeps sat waiting, some soldiers interrogating the people in the car in front of you.

"Checkpoint," Rudy warned.

"Turn right, we'll go around," you assured.

"Why?" Soap asked.

"Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre," you answered, "Like I said...he is everywhere."

You glanced out the window again, trying to get a gauge of your ETA.

"Hassan is being held at a safehouse in the village across the river. Let's hope he's still there."

"𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 leaders, circle up on me..." You ordered as you stepped out the vehicle, your men following suit.

"Copia, coronel," Rudy affirmed in comms.

"Weapons hot, Vaqueros. Muévese," you patted some of the men passing you, making sure they took position.

"Where ur they holdin' Hassan?" Soap asked.

"A white, two-story building in the back of town," you nodded, Rudy giving you a quick fist bump as he passed to take his position.

You followed him, Soap and Ghost following you before you stood ready in front of the large, wooden gate.

"Todos los Victors, estan listo..." you readied, saying a quick prayer in your head.

"Tres...dos...uno! Entra! Entra!"

You kicked in the door, quickly taking aim, but no one was there.

"Claro. Muévese," you ordered, descending down the rocky path, weapon at the ready.

"Civilians?" Soap asked.

"Gone. The cartel took over and turned it into a hideout," you answered, the team coming across another gate.

"Good place to keep Hassan," Soap nodded.

You took one side of the gate and Ghost took the other, taking his turn to push it open.

The sounds of shouts could be heard over the gate's squeaking, and you quickly stepped out, knocking off the source of the noise.

"Contacto! Todos los Victors mudarse!" You exclaimed, shooting at a man that appeared in the doorway of a house.

"Copia. 2 se mueve," Rudy confirmed.

Soap took out the rest of the men inside the house, and you led the team through the alleyway behind it.

"We secure this house. Then go for Hassan," you stated as you approached a red-bricked one, the talking of nervous sicarios audible through the wall.

"Cartel will move him fast," Ghost warned.

"We'll move faster," you assured, taking position next to the door and turning to Soap.

"Heads up. They're ready."

He nodded, taking the butt of his gun and using it as a ram to open the door.

Quickly, he entered the house, gun at the ready as he took down one hiding in the hallway, and then one hiding in the bathroom.

"Room clear," he reported.

You smiled, impressed.

"Not bad, escocé," you commended, following close behind.

"No sign of Hassan," he added, pushing open a door full of bullet holes.

"Not yet," you warned.

The two of you entered the kitchen, doing a quick check.

"Clear," he affirmed, "Whit 'appened t' thefamilies 'ere?"

"The cartel brings violence, so they leave," you answered, checking behind the kitchen island.

Soap locked the back door and held the knob, you quickly joining him.

"Standby," you stated, crouching down next to the window and holding your comm.

"Victor 2, this is 1-1. Despliegar humo. Estamos moviendo hacia afuera."

"Copia. Ha salido el humo," 2-1 on the other line confirmed.

"Where's yer family, (y/n)?" Soap asked, turning to you.

"That's a story that should be told with a drink," you grinned, turning to him.

You gave him a quick once over, smiling.

"Maybe we'll get one sometime..."

Soap eyes scanned over your face, triple checking to see if what he heard was right.

...

Did you just hit on him?

"We have concealment," Ghost reported, coming over.

"Let's move," you quickly switched the subject, standing up, "On me, Soap."

You exited the house, Soap right on your tail, and headed right through the smoke for cover.

"This is where they are hiding Hassan, so expect resistance," you reminded, "Todos los equipos, listos para la contencion. Preparese para la brecha."

You recognized one of your men standing near a doorway and ran over to him, getting on the other side.

He kicked it down and you entered, taking out three sicarios on sight.

"Claro. No Hassan," you reported, taking a quick scan of the room.

"Second deck," Ghost chimed.

"Si. Vamos. Let's move upstairs and grab Hassan," you nodded, starting up the staircase once you made sure Soap was still close.

You almost made it to the top when a shot suddenly went off, narrowly missing your head.

You hit the deck, Soap doing the same, as a barrage of bullets hit the wall behind you.

'Shit...'

"If Hassan's here, he's in this room," you stated, slightly lifting your head over the rail and shooting at the room in front of you.

Their firing stopped, and you quickly hopped the rail, crouching next to the door frame and waiting for Soap's mark.

He took out two of the men within the room, and after taking a quick once over, he moved in.

"Secure the room. I'll cover," you assured.

Soap checked behind the couch before turning to the bathroom, kicking down the door and taking aim.

"Clear. No Hassan," he reported.

"Todos los Victors, la casa es seguro. Negativo sobre Hassan," you relayed through the comms.

"Entendido," Rudy affirmed.

You sighed, walking over to Ghost and Soap who were flipping through a binder they found on a table.

"They must've moved him," you shook your head.

"When?" Soap asked.

"Some time recently," you raked a hand through your hair, annoyed.

Ghost turned to the flag hanging up on the wall, "Quds Force. That's his."

"(y/n)'s intel wis good," Soap agreed.

"Always is," you half-heartedly joked, the sound of a car engine making you turn towards the window.

"Comandante! El ejército está aqui!" Rudy reported through comms.

"Mierda!" You cursed, squatting down out of the window's view.

"What is it?" Ghost asked.

"The army," you answered, trying to contact Rudy again.

"We got reinforcements..." Soap stated, more as a question.

"Negative," you denied, "0-3, replegarse! Replegarse, ahora!"

"Copia!" Rudy affirmed.

"What are we doin'?" Ghost asked.

You propped up your gun on the window nook, taking aim, "Covering my men. Once they're clear, we fall back."

"Ye want us tae engage the fuckin' Mexican Army?" Soap asked, skeptical.

"These troops are paid by the cartel. They're helping the cartel protect Hassan," you clarified, "Hold your fire. We'll dig in until my men are clear."

"Multiple vehicles...troop transports...light armor," Ghost reported.

The jeeps pulled over, and the soldiers came pouring out right in the open.

"Hold," you reminded, "Wait for them to get in close."

You waited until they came into the alleyway in front of the window, right in your perfect line of sight.

"Weapons free!" You nodded, Soap not taking a second to spare.

The three of you lit them up, but they were prepared, returning fire with some hardware of their own.

"They're armored!" Soap reported.

"Target the helmets! They're weak!" You shouted over the gunfire.

"They're using shields!" Ghost shouted back.

"Use grenades!"

Soap grabbed the grenade launcher and began applying cover fire, kicking up the dust and dead bodies below.

He was whittling off their numbers in exponentially, and you and Ghost were there to finish off the stragglers.

"Coronel, estamos claro!" Rudy called over comms.

"Copia! Reúnase en el safehouse!" You ordered, turning to Soap and Ghost, "My men are clear!"

"Then we need tah move!" Soap exclaimed.

"Fall back this way!" You ran for the back window, using your shoulder to bust it open before jumping out, landing on the dumpster below.

The two followed you, descending the hill until you met up with one of your squads at the opening to the forest.

"Fan out and stay close. We'll lose them in the mountains," you ordered.

"La antigua ruta?" Rodriguez, one of your men, asked.

"Straight to the bridge," you confirmed.

The gunfire was getting louder and louder, bullets whizzing past you as you moved as fast as you could.

The cartel dogs were on your ass.

"The army's on us!" Soap exclaimed.

Just then, as you turned to Rodriguez, a splurt of blood exploded from him, making him drop like a rag-doll.

"Rodriguez!" Your eyes shot wide, quickly grabbing him by his vest and dragging him behind a large rock, "Cover! Cover!"

"Returning fire!" Ghost exclaimed.

You turned to look down at you fallen comrade, trying to see where the bleeding was coming from.

There was so much.

"Ay, coño! ¿Dónde estás sufriendo, hermano?" You asked, undoing his vest to try and apply some form of first aid.

"Sanchez is down!" Another one of your men shouted, dropping to tend to him.

"Mi pecho. Me dispararon. Estoy perdido, coronel," Rodriguez gasped, coughing up blood, "Seguir peleando."

Tears welled in your eyes.

This man had been part of your forces from the beginning.

You two had shared the dream of wanting to bring Las Almas back to what it was before the cartel took over.

He was one of your most loyal soldiers, and would've laid down his life for the cause without question.

He didn't deserve to die like this.

"Don't got a lot o' time, hen! We gotta move!" Soap exclaimed, snapping you out of it.

You took a deep breath, saying a quick prayer and shutting Rodriguez's eyes before getting back to the matter at hand.

"Let's go," you stood up, turning around and leading the squad further down the mountain.

"Ye know these trails?" Soap asked, hoping to take your mind off what just happened.

He couldn't imagine the pain you were going through right now, and he was trying his best to lighten your load.

"Very well," you nodded, "But so does the army."

"We can't hold off an army. We need extraction," Ghost stated.

"Vasquez, llame para una extracción," you ordered.

"Si, comandante," he nodded, getting to it.

"Cualquier palabra de Rodolfo?" You asked.

"Negativo," Rivera answered, "Perdimos comunicación."

"Puta," you hissed, hopping  a log, "Let's keep it moving. Through here."

You led the squad through the brush before dropping and sliding down a small shelf of rock.

"The mountain's blocking comms," you stated.

"Your man get the call out?" Ghost asked.

"Let's hope so," you sighed.

"Whit's th'plan?" Soap chimed.

"There's a bridge at the river. Extraction will be there--" An RPG suddenly blew hole in the ground 15 meters ahead of you, raining heavy gunfire on the squad.

"Contact!" Ghost shouted, ducking behind a tree to return fire.

"The ridgeline!" You exclaimed, diving behind a rock.

You quickly grabbed two grenades off your belt, pulling their pins and tossing them at the enemy, taking out a clump of their numbers.

Ghost and Soap picked off the stragglers in the trees before you pressed forward to lead again.

"We'll have to jump here!" You called, coming up on a stone shelf attached to the cliff.

"Can we make that?!" Soap exclaimed.

"Hace o muerte, escocé," you stated, jumping and sliding down to break your landing.

Your men followed, and you started off on the small edge of the cliff.

"Pinches cabrones aren't far behind," you spat, quickly checking your six.

"Where to, (y/n)?" Soap asked.

"Soap, push forward. Vasquez, keep working on the radio. Rest of you watch for snipers," you fell back, triple checking the far ridges for any possible enemies.

"Vasquez, alguna señal de radio?"

"Negativo," he denied.

You cursed, "We need to get to the river."

"I found it," Soap reported, entering a clearing.

But his words were overwhelming by the whirring of the helo not too far away.

"Escucha...You hear that?" You hushed, looking up at the sky.

"Incoming heli," Ghost reported.

"Si. Get to a firing position. We'll take them by surprise," you ordered, your men setting up their formation.

"Which way to the bridge?"

"Straight ahead. Past the helo. They're gonna try to cut us off," you answered, following close behind Soap.

"We'll 'ave tah go through them," Soap stated, lifting himself up onto the next part of the mountain.

"Luckily, the bridge isn't too far," you assured, "But they may position shooters out here. So, watch your backs."

After getting over the hill, the three of you and your forces made it to the edge of the mountain, where the bridge and the river could been seen below.

But your extraction unit was no where to be seen.

"Comms didn't get through," Vasquez cursed, "Hijoputa."

"We'll radio when we get down there," you assured, jumping to land on a lower shelf below, "Watch your footing here."

"Estos acantilados son peligrosos," Vasquez muttered, jumping down next to you.

Once he Americans and the rest of your forces made it down, you pushed forward

"You know your way?" Ghost asked.

"We used to skip school and play here as kids," you nodded, hugging the cliff wall as you carefully inched over to the other side.

It was the only way to get across.

"'Til the cartel took over?" Soap chimed.

"Exactly. The narcos changed everything."

You made it to the other side and turned around to check on everyone else, only for Vasquez to get shot, a splurt of blood exploding from him.

"Sniper! Move!" Ghost shouted.

"Vasquez!" You exclaimed, eyes wide as you watched him fall off the cliff.

You quickly dropped to the ground, propping up your gun and finding the sniper on the ridge where you just were.

"Pinche cabron..." you lined up the shot straight for the face, shooting and killing the soldier, "Sniper down."

"Fuckin' good shot, hen," Soap commended, making it over to you.

"We need to get some ground," you hurried, grabbing hold of higher ground and hoisting yourself up.

With no signal in the mountains and the army still on your ass, you knew you had to get your men to the ground quick.

Completely descaling the mountain would take too long, not to mention the army would catch you by then.

So there was only one option.

'Que Dios me ayude...'

"You led us to a dead end, mate..." Ghost realized, the cliff ending a few feet ahead.

"We jump from here!" You exclaimed, using your running start to help you jump.

"Don't lose your weaponnnnn!"

After you and Rita nearly died cliff diving from there as children, you both made a vow you'd never do it again.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Your crossed your arms and held your gun close to your chest as you collided with the water, the force stinging your face and cheeks.

Opening your eyes, you quickly check to make sure you weren't injured before you swam up to the surface, the sound of splashing letting you know that your men were all right.

"Soap!" You broke the surface with a gasp, quickly looking around, "Ghost! Rivera! Están bien? You guys all right?"

"Affirm," Ghost nodded, somehow coming up without you noticing.

"Soap?" You turned around, frantically checking.

Suddenly, the man popped up next to you with a loud cough, nearly scaring you half to death.

"Breathin'," he cleared his throat, patting his chest.

"Por Dios..." you took a deep breath, trying to calm your heart.

"All right, we gotta move down river to get to the bridge. Use the rocks for cover," you instructed, starting your swim and holding your comm to try and get a connection, "All stations, this is Victor 0-1. How copy?"

"-dow 1! Do you--? -ay again, -o you re--?" 

The sentence didn't sound Spanish at all. Not to mention half of it was cut from the static.

"Radio's pickin' up somethin'," Soap chimed.

"Sounds American," Ghost agreed.

The sound of bullets focused you back on the situation at hand.

"No time to worry now. Weapons free!" You exclaimed, swimming behind a rock quarry so you could return fire.

You took out four soldiers on the riverbank before ducking to reload.

"We gotta keep moving down-river!" You called to Soap and Ghost over the gunfire.

"Soap, push ahead! Don't stop movin'!" Ghost agreed.

"Onnit!" He nodded, taking the lead while you and Ghost covered the rear.

The two of you took out a couple more soldiers that hid in the trees, and even some that were following through the ridgeline.

"Cabrones don't know when to quit," you cursed, tired of the army's bullshit.

"We got incoming up ahead!" Soap reported, shooting at the military jeep that pulled up on the bank up ahead.

"The river's slowin' us down, mate!" Ghost warned, swimming after him to provide some backup.

"It's shallow ahead! We get there and we can get some grounding!" You assured.

The three of you took out the forces that came out the car and then pushed forward, swimming a bit before finally making it to the shallow end.

"Vehicles on the bridge!" Ghost reported.

You quickly whipped your head over to where he was looking, only to see four armored trucks pull up onto the bridge.

"Fuck! It's the army! Get to cover!" You shouted, grabbing Rivera and ducking behind a rock, "We're gonna have to hold here and get an extraction!"

"We can't do shite against 'at armor!" Soap exclaimed.

You quickly reloaded your gun, your stomach dropping as you realized you only had one magazine left.

'Shit! ...I'm almost out.'

"This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!" A voice suddenly shouted from your comm.

"The fuck is that?!" You asked.

"Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They're with us," Ghost answered.

Suddenly, charges started going off on the bridge, taking out all of its support beams before blowing a huge hole in the center.

"Holy shit..." You watched, wide eyed.

"Shadow 0-1, Bravo 0-7! Good shots! Fire for effect!" Ghost approved in comms.

They blew one final charge dead in the center, and the entire bridge collapsed into the river.

Cars and trucks included.

"All stations, no enemy movement detected. You're clear," Graves reported, "S'good to see you guys."

"Likewise, mate," Ghost nodded.

"This way," you led the team onto the riverbank, coming across an empty jeep in perfect condition.

"Graves, we've located a vehicle for exfil," Ghost reported.

"Rodger that," Graves approved, "Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan two klicks north of your position."

"That's cartel land. They have a compound there," you added, opening the driver's side and hopping in.

"Les roll," Soap huffed, taking the passenger set, Ghost settling for the back.

"You guys good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?" Graves asked.

The three of you turned to each other, sharing a firm nod.

"Les wrap 'is fucker up, Graves," Soap agreed.

[bullet-prooflove]

Ex!Joe Part Two: Brighton Beach - Joe Velasco x Reader

Tagging: @plaidbooks @misscharlielulu @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @magic-multicolored-miracle @rosaliedepp @cycat4077 @crazy4chickennuggets @cixrosie @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @mydarkestsecretlol @the-adzukibean @@the-person-in-the-circle @wooshwastaken @kiwiithecrazybird @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @hey-dw @alwaysachorusgirl @julieelliewrites @telepathay @weiwei0210 @nessamc @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989

Part One: Left Behind

Joe’s forgotten how beautiful the Russian language can be, how the syllables ebb and flow, how your dialect can soften even the harshest of words as they leave your mouth. He remembers nights in bed, where the two of you had exchanged phrases in Spanish, Russian and English.

I love you; you had taught him. я тебя люблю

You mean the world to me; he had taught you. Para mi significas el mundo.

He’s retained scraps of phrases over the years but the main thing he recalls is the sentiment. The look in your eyes as your fingers brushed the hair at the nape of his neck and you whispered them against his lips.

You meant every single word back then.

Your tone is soothing as you translate between him and Sonya Solovyov. A mixture of reassurance and strength as you guide her through the questions with as much care as you can. He sees the weight of it bearing down on your shoulders as she details the ten hours she spent in the company of her rapist.

Joe hates the fact you have to hear this. You’re no stranger to violence and hate but sex crimes comes with it’s own caveats. He notices the way your fingers twitch when Sonya starts to break down. He understands the compulsion to reach out, to want to comfort someone while their describing the most horrific thing that has ever happened to them.

It’s your training that prevents you from doing that. Instead, you clasp your hands together, the knuckles practically turning white as you lower your head so you can meet Sonya’s gaze.

When it’s over, you remain seated as Joe escorts Sonya from the interrogation room. You stare at the chair that she occupied, reliving the interview over and over again in your head. You see the injuries on her face and neck, the restraint marks on her wrists, you see her broken spirit and her torn soul.

“How many more?” You ask when he returns.

“Another two today.” He tells you, his shoulder coming to rest against the wall as he studies you.  “You’ve got time for a break.”

You nod, your gaze still fixed on the chair before you push yourself away from the metal table and leave the room without sparing him a second glance. He knows you’re shutting down, that the statement he’s just taken from Sonya has unnerved you. This job isn’t for the faint hearted, he thinks what you heard today in this room is going to haunt you for nights to come. It’ll haunt him, he’ll think about it as he lays in bed tonight staring at the ceiling.

He finds you on the roof, smoking a cigarette as you look out across the skyline of the city. Nobody’s allowed up here, not really, but a couple of months ago someone disabled the alarm on the fire door so that they could sneak out for a smoke. He thinks it was Murphy, the last time he visited the precinct.

“I don’t understand how you do this day in and day out.” You tell him as he comes to stand beside you. You take a drag before holding out the cigarette towards him, he takes it from you and puts it between his lips, letting the smoke fill up his lungs before he exhales.

“It’s not easy.” He admits, watching the smoke evaporate into the air. “But it’s better than what I was doing before.”

You both know he’s talking about the undercover work, about the nights he lost himself in another man’s identity, the days that he became one of them.

“You prefer this?” You ask him, gesturing at the building before he hands the cigarette back to you.

There’s an intimacy to sharing a smoke. It’s like kissing in a way, his lips touching the same space as yours. It’s an echo of the past, when the two of you used to stand outside the bar in your neighbourhood, sharing a Marlborough before Joe would lean in and kiss you, the smoke bleeding out of your mouth and into his.

“I know who I am with this.” He tells you with a shrug of his shoulders, his eyebrows furrowing as he surveys the view in front of him. “I know who the bad guys are.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had before, a long time ago now. How you lose fragments of yourself when you become someone else, you take on their traits, their mannerisms, their thoughts and ideals. You start to understand what drives people into that life, the poverty, the depravation, you see how you were just one bad decision away from becoming the same thing you’re trying to denounce.

It could have been me, he’d told you one night, his head in his hands as he sat on the couch. You don’t understand how close that was to being me.

“We can get someone else.” Joe says into the space between you, his elbows coming to rest upon the handrail. “If this is too much.”

You turn your head to look at him, for a second your eyes lock and you feel like you’re back there in that moment, the one before he went away again. You see the agony in those green eyes of his, because this, being here with you, it’s hurting him. You can’t seem to stop doing that, no matter what you try there’s no right course of action. You leave you hurt him; you return you hurt him.

 All you want to do is get through the rest of the day so you can return to your lonely little apartment and pretend that none of this had never happened. That you aren’t still in love with a man that hates you, that you didn’t walk out the door because you couldn’t cope.

You sigh as you stub out the cigarette on the wall before dropping it into the makeshift ashtray.

“No you can’t.” You tell him, rubbing your hands together against the cool breeze that whips through the air. “You would have done it already if it was that easy.”

Joe doesn’t deny it. He’d put a couple of feelers out with the Desk Sergeant before Sonya had come in. You were the only one in the locality with the language skills and specilised interview techniques to undertake something so delicate. Anything else meant being attached to a waiting list and with the way this guy was ramping up, they simply didn’t have the time to sit and wait for an interpreter to become available.

“Why are you here?” He asks you finally, his voice lowering an octave. “Why come back to Manhattan after being away for so long?”

“Maybe it was time for me to find a home too.” You say, clasping your hands together and leaning on the railing.

Joe’s gaze lowers to the wedding ring on your finger.

“It looks like you have one already.”

You laugh and it’s a bitter sound that cuts straight through him. He’s heard it a handful of times over his duration with you, and he knows that it masks pain. You use it as a way of lightening a situation that cuts you so deep, you feel like you’re bleeding out onto the concrete.

“It turns out I’m a shitty wife, I only wear the fucking thing because I don’t want to admit to anyone that I’ve failed at that too.”

Out of everything he thinks of you, he never would have deemed you ‘a shitty wife’. You’re loyal, fierce, dedicated. Traits that he admired in you at the time, that he still admires because he sees them there under the surface.

“What happened at Brighton Beach?” He asks you quietly. “What was it that made you come home?”

The word slips out before he can stop it.

Home.

Home used to be him. It used to be a spacious one bedroomed apartment in Tribeca with a rug you’d brought from a thrift store and end tables the two of you had spent an afternoon upcycling. It had been a bed filled with love, and soft words and tender caresses.

You don’t think that Joe means to linger in your proximity, but he does. You can feel the heat rolling off his skin and it warms something inside of you. Nobody you work with knows that you’re getting divorced, that you signed the papers last week and send them back to your husband uncontested. There’s no belongings to split, you’d already moved and you’d rented together not bought.

“I arrested my brother-in-law for fucking underage girls.” You find yourself telling him as you toy with the ring on your finger. “I’m getting divorced because my husband can’t stand the sight of me. My mother and father won’t talk to me because of how it makes them look in the community. My mom slammed the door in my face the last time I went by.”

“Your mom hated me.” Joe recalls, thinking back to that dinner, that horrible, oppressive dinner that the two of you had been forced to sit through for your father’s birthday.

Your mom had made it abundantly clear that Joe may have been an immigrant, but he wasn’t the right type of immigrant. You’d fallen out with her after that, didn’t speak to her for a long time.

You didn't give a shit that he'd come over from Mexico during his teenage years and he didn't give a shit that your family were Soviet Jews, fleeing Russia during the 1930s. You mother did though, she clung to your heritage as if it was a lifeline. She wanted you to marry a nice Jewish boy from the neighbourhood.

This whole thing with Alexi's brother was a kick in the face for her, your family were well established in the community and blood came before anything else, even if it was married in.

“Well, she hates me too now, so I guess we have that in common.” You tell him tilting your head and meeting his gaze.

Your mother is five foot tall and Joe has seen grown men cower in her presence, especially when she has that wooden spoon in her hand.

Joe tries not to smile at the image; he really does but there’s something about the expression on your face that cracks him up. He sees the edges of your lips tipping up and he knows that it’s the same for you. It feels good to laugh with you again, to share something.

“It shouldn’t be funny.” You say and he gives you that hapless look because it’s a little funny.

The moment’s cut short by the sound of his cellphone chirping to life. He removes it from his back pocket, studying the message before he purses his lips together grimly.

“The next one’s here.” He tells you almost apologetically. “Think you can handle it?”

It’s a genuine question and he already knows the answer because the woman he knew back then was tough as hell and he can see that hasn’t changed in the time you’ve been apart. You think of the women who’ve endured this torture, the strength it’s taken them to actually come into Special Victims, to recount their stories.

“Yea.” You say, taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

Love Joe Velasco? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[halimayronwood]

in old town, the last remaining old way septon on the most devout, septon demir, has been murdered, his throat cut in his chambers. the murder weapon, a ceremonial knife, was found amongst the belongings of a servant in the employ of the high septon, implicating him explicitly in the killing.

there is a greater conspiracy at work here, known only to those involved, to topple the high septon by framing him for this murder.

the murderer was in fact halima yronwood, who was tasked to do so by cedric tyrell, the mastermind behind the plot. this is information known only to cedric and halima.

in the space of one night, halima departed dorne in a ship bound for old town, committed the murder, hid the weapon, and left the reach, back in dorne before sunrise. true to her word, she was not seen, and her involvement remains a secret.

this is the tldr, self para is under the cut.

the faint breeze carried the salt air of the whispering sound down the alley, and with it came halima yronwood, slipping from shadow to shadow with less presence than the wind itself. this city was not hers, but such was her way - she could roar and blaze, could make herself known when she needed to domineer or unsettle, but this was where she thrived, the unseen knife in the dark. it was where she belonged, turning herself into a void where both light and sound ceased to exist. this city was not hers, but that did not matter - she had studied it, consumed it, and for tonight, she would reign over it in the way only a shadow could. the difference this time was that she was not wielding her blade for house yronwood, but for cedric tyrell, the king of roses. her reasons for accepting were her own, but the life of a manwoody was a motivator for her alone, not a factor in what was to occur tonight.

her movements were deliberate, each step too light to leave the faintest whisper of a sound. she'd done this before - in and out before any knew she was there, like a vengeful wraith. not to this scale, though. the domed roof of the starry sept loomed before her, a beacon in the moonlight, built to draw awe and reverence, but to halima, it's splendour was meaningless. for a moment, she paused to study the edifice, sharp eyes missing very little as she tracked the intricacies of the marble walls, the narrow passages that wound its perimeter, seeing only its cracks and weaknesses. if she could get up onto one of the balconies, it would be a simple task to get to where she knew septon demir kept his living quarters. it was nothing like her homeland, but halima left nothing to chance. she had come here prepared, and what she had found was, thus far, exactly what she expected. it reeked of grandeur and decay in equal measure.

the gods had not watched her in years. that, she was sure of. they had turned their backs upon her when she was naught but a girl, too young to understand betrayal, and she had returned the favour in kind. her soul had long been destined for the hells, perhaps even before she had been born. tonight, when she had spilled the blood of one of their most favoured, they would regret allowing her to slip from their gaze. this was the cost of their neglect.

but it mattered not tonight that she no longer sought the approval of the gods, mattered not that she had private scores to settle. what mattered was ishaan and kabir, and the fact that what she did tonight was for the both of them, and neither they nor armaan would ever know of it. the life of this septon demir meant nothing to her, not when his death meant ensuring their legacy.

the faith. the gods. piety. they were all hollow masks worn by men who feared death but lacked the courage to name it. halima didn’t fear death. she’d met it, time and time again, and sent it in the direction of others without hesitation.

she'd reached the wall surrounding the sept, the stone walls easier to climb than the marble of the building itself. if she could get atop it, she should be able to reach a balcony on the first floor, and work her way up the building undetected. scaling the outer wall was almost too easy, boots finding purchase in the rough stone effortlessly. she paused near the top, craning her neck so she could see over the stone before hauling herself above it. her caution was well-rewarded. two septons, carrying lanterns and chatting softly, walked through the courtyard, novices, by the look of them, no doubt on their way to evening prayer. once they had passed, she pulled herself up, balancing precariously on the top of the wall. there could be no room for mistakes tonight. error was weakness, and there was no room for weakness in the world she was carving for those two boys who needed her to dirty her hands so they did not have to.

she looked to the balcony, and she leapt.

her hands found the iron railing, and the muscles in her back strained as she pulled herself up and over, but there was no time to rest. she had studied plans of the sept, and a quick glance through the painted windows confirmed what she had hoped - she had found herself outside a private chapel, mercifully empty at this time of night. she had planned this meticulously - to get to demir, she would need to go three up, and two to the left, and so that was what she did, beginning the process of balancing on the railings, much as she had done the wall, and launching herself upwards, knowing the higher she got, the less room there could be for error. every step, every handhold, even every breath had been rehearsed a hundredfold in her mind. she would not fall. this would not go wrong. she would not allow it. her movements were almost cat-like, and it was not until she reached the balcony of septon demir did she allow herself to pause, shrinking into the shadows as she peered through his windows to take stock of where he was.

cedric's tyrell's instructions echoed in her mind, clear and unrelenting. the man, the last remaining old way septon amongst the most devout, had to die, and the blame must fall upon the high septon himself. the second part was cedric's burden, but this, the blood and the silence and the violence of it all - this was all upon her shoulders now. she had promised, and she would deliver. the strands of hair that had escaped her braid were plastered to her head with sweat. this was not a crime she committed - it was precision, the removal of a rotting limb before it festered. before the moon set, she would deliver him to his gods. perhaps he would thank her for it. the smell of insence drifted from inside his rooms, burning the inside of halima's nose. it made her irrationally angry. men like him peddled righteousness, but she knew better. she knew that true power came not from prayer, but who was holding the steel, and who was prepared to use it.

her hand found the knife in her pocket, not one of her own, it's grip different to the khukuri blade she favoured. that had been intentional - in her pocket was a simple ceremonial knife, common enough in the faith of the seven, the jewel in the pommel in the shape of the seven pointed star and the engravings on the blade devoting it to the stranger, her own private joke. there were hundreds like it in old town - and that meant it would be impossible to trace to her. a single stoke, swift and silent, was all it would take.

her gloved hand reached out to test the outer handle, turning it slowly. it had been left unlocked, unguarded, and the winds themselves seemed to still as she pushed it open without a noise.

she had already glimpsed him through the window - frailed, hunched, and insignificant, facing away from her towards the glow of the single candle that illuminated the room. and when she looked at the back of his figure, halima felt... nothing. no hatred, no rage, just the cold calculation of a task to be complete. the only sounds in the room were the quiet scratch of his quill, even as she closed the door behind her, without a click or a thud. he was alone, utterly unaware of the predator that had entered his sanctuary, and as halima moved closer, she drew the knife from her pocket. it was always fascinating to see the moment before they realised she was there. before their hearts raced, before the sharp sting of steel or the hot rush of blood. she relished the power of it, the inevitability. he was hers already, though he didn’t know it yet. for ishaan and kabir, came her final thoughts before she struck, the names a prayer in her mind. for them, she would kill a hundred septons, drown oldtown in crimson if that's what it took.

she did not hesitate. there was no pause, no moment of consideration between what was and what would be. instead, she moved swiftly. when she was a hairs breadth away, demir's head began to turn, as though he sensed her there at last, but it was too late. she wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him back against her, and the other drove the knife into his neck, drawing it from left to right in a single, precise motion. it met little resistance. she had known it wouldn't - it was far easier than people assumed to drive a blade into the neck. she felt the warmth of his blood coat her glove, heard the wet, desperate gurgle as he clawed at her arm. it didn’t matter. it never mattered. his struggle was brief, a mere twitch of a dying thing, and then he stilled. she let him fall forward, the wood beneath his face already darkening with red. her task was complete. pulling the knife from his neck, she stepped back, her expression as calm as if she had done little more than extinguish the candle.

the next part of her task had not been part of cedric's instructions - she were giving it to him for free, and yet, she had little time to act. she opened the door, leaving it ajar for the body to be discovered, and darted through the halls. the weapon would not stay with her - it would remain in the starry sept, her last gift to the king of the reach. there would be no loose ends - not when she was creating a masterpiece. she cared not if she left a trail of blood behind her. let them find the blood, let them follow the trail. it would not lead to her. she came across none on the way to her destination, though she remained alert, ready to slaughter any who came across her path to ensure her own escape. let them come for her - she was already vanishing through their fingers.

and then she was here, in the servants quarters, those who worked within it busy helping their masters ready themselves for sleep, oblivious to the storm she had unleashed here tonight. demir would be found soon, and she knew she had little time to work with. she withdrew from her belt a leather pouch, tucked the knife within it, still wet and sticky with blood, and stashed it amongst the belongings of a servant in the high septon's employ, hiding it just enough to draw suspicions. when they turned the sept upside down looking for evidence, they would see the blood still upon it, an irrefutable link to the crime. and then it was the final stretch, her route out of the starry different to the one she had taken in - out the back way. the servants entrance yawned before her, the outer wall a familiar challenge. by the time they pieced it together, she would already be gone, already vanished into the night, back to the docks where the king's ship waited to see her back to dorne.

she had done it.

halima boarded the ship without a word to the crew, retreating to a small cabin where she could clean the blood from her hands, change her clothes, and pack what she was wearing into a small canvas sack, already weighted, that she would throw into the sea on the way. she would be back to dorne before the sun rose. the faint scent of iron clung to her fingers, despite the fact her hands looked clean. the smell was a familiar one, one she had never quite managed to wash away.

and still, she felt no remorse, no doubt. when she was back in kingsgrave, she would not lose sleep over what she had done. it had all been for house yronwood, for ishaan, kabir, and armaan. cedric tyrell might have made her a pawn in schemes she cared very little for, but she would rest soundly knowing her part in it had secured what needed to be secured. she was always theirs, before she was every anything else.

[moiteneia]

Cell’s Moving Castle: AU Guapoduo.

g!Cellbit é um bruxo fugitivo. Vivendo escondido em seu castelo animado, possuí inúmeros nomes, disfarces e muita magia. Anos atrás fez um acordo com uma estrela, trocando sua alma e coração por proteção, mas aos poucos esse acordo, assim como fogo, está enfraquecendo, juntamente com a sua essência (a sua própria magia está se voltando contra ele).

Sempre acompanhado de dois garotinhos, Pepito e Richas, ele está a procura de algo ou alguém que ele viu em seu passado e que prometeu a ele salvar seu coração.

g!Roier é um jovem chapeleiro que vive sob a sombra de seu irmão. g!Doied é um gênio, o orgulho dos pais deles e vive no luxo e na glória, sendo treinado para lutar na guerra que assola o reino deles (o Rei g!Philza desapareceu e o reino acusa o reino vizinho - Capybara - de tê-lo sequestrado). 

Tudo corria bem, g!Roier se escondia das bombas, costurava chapéus e se escondia de todas as visitas de sua família. Tudo ótimo! 

Até que em uma certa tarde ele quase é atacado por dois soldados mau intencionados, mas, por sorte, alguém veio ajuda-lo.

-Guapito, onde você estava? Procurei por você por todo lugar!-Um rapaz loiro de enormes olhos azuis o pegou pelo braço e começou a leva-lo para longe dos dois. -Segure-se firme.-Ele sussurrou.

Momentos depois, agarrando-se no braço do outro, viu seus pés se afastando do chão.

XxX 

Naquela noite, g!Roier foi amaldiçoado por uma bruxa invejosa pela atenção que o Bruxo havia dado a ele e agora, sua aparência, tal qual sua autoestima, se deteriorou, parecendo mais um velho.

Agora, ele terá que fugir da cidade e ir em busca de refúgio…Talvez um certo castelo seja o lugar certo!

xXx ENG XxX

AU Guapoduo:

g!Cellbit is a fugitive wizard. Living hidden in his lively castle, he has countless names, disguises and lots of magic.

Years ago he made an agreement with a star, exchanging his soul and heart for protection, but little by little this agreement, like fire, is weakening, along with his essence (his own magic is turning against him).

Always accompanied by two little boys, Pepito and Richas, he is looking for something or someone he saw in his past and who promised him to save his heart.

g!Roier is a young hatmaker who lives under his brother's shadow.

g!Doied is a genius, the pride of their parents and lives in luxury and glory, being trained to fight in the war that ravages their kingdom (King g!Philza has disappeared and the kingdom accuses the neighboring kingdom - Capybara - of having him kidnapped). Everything went well, g!Roier hid from bombs, sewed hats and hid from all his family's visitors. Everything's good!

Until one afternoon he is almost attacked by two soldiers with bad intentions, but, luckily, someone came to help him.

-Guapito, where were you? I looked for you everywhere!-A blond boy with huge blue eyes took him by the arm and started to take him away from the two. -Hold on tight.-He whispered.

Moments later, clinging to the other's arm, he saw his feet moving away from the ground.

XxX

That night, g!Roier was cursed by a witch jealous of the attention the Wizard had given him and now, his appearance, like his self-esteem, deteriorated, looking more like an old man. Now, he will have to escape the city and go in search of refuge...Maybe a certain castle is the right place!

[weepylucifer]

Esprit de Corps and Inland Empire >:)))

inland empire: if video game Disco Elysium was put in a hydraulic press. if it was bundled and squeezed into a small object that fit in the palm of your hand. what would that look like? what would you do with it, then?

it'd look like a cubical object in scintillating metallic colors and patterns, and images of the locations and characters shimmering across the surface. i would use it as a fidget toy and have it in my hands whenever i need something to occupy them while i read kapital. i would also take it in my mouth

esprit de corps: what are your feelings about the RCM?

oh boy deep breath. under cut because it got long

The RCM is a glorified neighborhood watch. The RCM is old communists trying to trick the Moralintern into letting them stay organized. The RCM are pigs and bastards and bootlickers. The RCM has failed its purpose. The RCM is working exactly as designed. The RCM are trying to protect citizens. The RCM are actively ruining lives. The RCM are gonna back the revolution. The RCM are gonna squash the revolution. No one trusts the RCM and they are right not to. The RCM are doing what they can with what they have. The RCM are just another gang in a city of gangs. The RCM are a sworn brotherhood. The RCM are a vile, toxic, soul-sucking tar pit of a workplace. The RCM are a bunch of delusional weirdos clinging to a figment of legitimacy and “law” that was handed to them by the oppressors. The RCM come from the people. It’s wild out here

The thing about them is that i can absolutely see the in-universe "RCM = ICM + 4 decades of time" theory being true. I can absolutely believe that people in there, like Pryce, are trying to organize another push for independence, and maybe even communism. But the thing is, most people have forgotten all about this, and there are no communards in the RCM anymore (even Pryce is the son of the original Pryce). So by now they're pretty much just the police, not much more to it. They've recruited anyone off the street, which means they've recruited a ton of people with the Cop Mindset, who were drawn to the opportunity to play around with guns and exert authority over defenseless civilians. When the Return comes, the RCM will collapse like a poorly made soufflé, and i do not doubt that we would have seen that in a sequel if there'd been one. There would have been a split into the "serve the people by joining the uprising" camp and the "keep being cops by enforcing moralintern law and suppressing the uprising" camp, and the former would be in for some interesting times

in coup attempts, it can be beneficial to have (para-)military on-side, because they're many, they're armed, and they're trained for combat, and you'd probably prefer them with you than shooting at you. but the people hate the RCM, and the unions hate the RCM, and there are good reasons for that, so for many it would be unacceptable to have cops at the table. plus, from what we've seen of Precinct 41, you do NOT want those bozos in charge of ANYTHING, and you do NOT want a Return that just ends up enforcing police rule. what Pryce and whoever people he has would do when confronted with that, it would remain to be seen

[onepiecewantedposter]

BlackStar

Name: BlackStar

Japanese Name: ブラック☆スター

Romanized Name: Burakku☆Sutā

Epithet(s): The Black Star

Codename: Black☆Star

Race: Human

Occupations: Shibusen Academy Student, Weapons Master

Family: Not mentioned in Soul Eater

Affiliations: Shibusen Academy

Bounty Offered: 400,000,000 Berries

Capture: Dead or Alive

Age: 14 years old

Date of Birth: Unknown

Height: Approximately 160 cm (5'3'')

Blood Type: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Residence: Death City

Status: Active

Reasons for Capture:

High threat to the World Government due to due to his exceptional combat skills and rebellious nature.

Known for defeating powerful enemies and his tireless pursuit of being the best fighter in the world.

His fame and infamy in the world of Soul Eater make him an individual of interest to both the forces of good and evil.

Nombre: BlackStar

Nombre japonés: ブラック☆スター

Nombre romanizado: Burakku☆Sutā

Epíteto(s): El Estrella Negra

Nombre Clave: Black☆Star

Raza: Humano

Ocupaciones: Estudiante de la Academia Shibusen, Maestro de Armas

Familia: No se menciona en Soul Eater

Afiliaciones: Academia Shibusen

Recompensa Ofrecida: 400,000,000 Berries

Captura: Vivo o muerto

Edad: 14 años

Fecha de Nacimiento: Desconocida

Altura: Aproximadamente 160 cm (5'3'')

Grupo Sanguíneo: Desconocido

Origen: Desconocido

Residencia: Death City

Estado: Activo

Motivos de Captura:

Alta amenaza al Gobierno Mundial debido a sus habilidades de combate excepcionales y su naturaleza rebelde.

Conocido por derrotar a enemigos poderosos y su búsqueda incansable de ser el mejor luchador del mundo.

Su fama e infamia en el mundo de Soul Eater lo hacen un individuo de interés tanto para las fuerzas del bien como del mal.

[esuemmanuel]

Una sonrisa pequeña, casi imperceptible, llena de timidez y candor, de ligera esperanza y cariño. Una sonrisa dibujada en el rostro de un recién nacido o la de aquel anciano caminante que se encuentra contigo en la acera del porvenir. Una sonrisa breve en los labios pequeños de una mujer enamorada del amor, esa que baila y canta al roce de la vida y la luz del sol; hermosa y carismática, entregada al verso meritorio de la plenitud. Una mujer dada a la poesía, a las voces perennes del alma despierta, al fuego y al agua que arde y bulle en su centro; ahí, entre el sacro y el plexo. Una sonrisa animada, abierta al viento, entregada a la algarabía de la alegría que es existir, esa nacida de la boca de un hombre entregado a las experiencias de la carne, a las verdades de su oficio, a la complejidad de sus reflexiones y de sus acciones apegadas al corazón de su prosa. Una sonrisa, una sola, caminando por las calles de una ciudad en penumbras, iluminando cada rincón de sus calles, cada recoveco de sus callejones, de esos espacios vacíos y lúgubres que nadie se atreve a pisar y, no obstante, están llenos de seres humanos perdidos en el temor de ser alguien. Una sonrisa como luz del cielo, como la caricia de una nube, como el recordatorio que obliga a nuestras almas a continuar en este camino que hemos elegido para madurar como el espíritu colectivo del Universo.

A small, almost imperceptible smile, full of shyness and candor, of light hope and affection. A smile drawn on the face of a newborn or that of that old walker who meets you on the sidewalk of the future. A brief smile on the small lips of a woman in love with love, that one who dances and sings to the touch of life and sunlight; beautiful and charismatic, given to the meritorious verse of fullness. A woman given to poetry, to the perennial voices of the awakened soul, to the fire and water that burns and bubbles in her center; there, between the sacrum and the plexus. A lively smile, open to the wind, given to the joy that is to exist, born from the mouth of a man devoted to the experiences of the flesh, to the truths of his craft, to the complexity of his reflections and his actions attached to the heart of his prose. A smile, a single one, walking through the streets of a city in twilight, illuminating every corner of its streets, every nook and cranny of its alleys, those empty and gloomy spaces that no one dares to step on and yet are full of human beings lost in the fear of being someone. A smile like light from the sky, like the caress of a cloud, like the reminder that forces our souls to continue on this path we have chosen to mature as the collective spirit of the Universe.