#About how Killer and Color met and operated at the start in my mind at least

[somegrumpynerd]

Killer is the only one Nightmare can't track down easily, since he can feel the others by emotion but can't usually sense Killer's unless he's in stage 1.

This is a small part of why he and Color got off on the wrong foot, because the first time Color and Killer met was when he was helping Dream fight them and he managed to pull Killer away from the main fight to try and reason with him. While they were doing that, Nightmare decided to retreat but couldn't see Killer around and couldn't find him using emotions, so he had to leave without him. (He did return later to scour the place and found Killer waiting for him, since he'd refused Color's offer to go with them.)

This became a running theme, where sometimes after a battle Killer would be gone without a trace because he was off fighting/talking with Color and Nightmare would have to come back for him later. It's also what makes Nightmare a little uneasy in present day about Killer running off to hang out with Color sometimes, because if Color succeeds in convincing Killer not to return, Nightmare has no way of tracking him down anymore. He just has to trust that Killer will return at some point, and wait.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 85

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"What can you give me about Hill and her huntresses?" Ironwood asked me as we walked briskly up to his office.

"Fiona has some sort of matter absorption semblance. Evidently she can put a plane in her pocket and walk away. It's Striker ranged and probably limited to non-living things, I'm speculating on that bit. Still, it's supposed to be fairly wicked. May has the invisibility field. It's got a decent radius and it's mobile. It fucked with one of my own operations once. Sabotaged me. Then there's Joanna. She's got super strength, classic Brute," I informed him. "You want me here for this? I've had a run one with them before."

"You'll be with me," he affirmed. He swung the doors open to his office and he sat down at his desk.

I took to a corner by the window. I folded my arms. My sword hilt extended over my head.

"Their weapons?" Ironwood asked me.

"These crossbow staves. Probably modifiable with dust rounds. Except Hill. She's got a crossbow with blades on either side. My man described it as like a fan or an accordian."

"Your man?"

"A union leader down in Mantle. That's how he worked with Hill. You want the details?"

He shook his head. He steepled his hands before him and we waited. Penny came skipping into the room. She saw me, smiled, and waved at me. I grinned back at her and nodded.

"Oh are we acting brooding? I'll do my best." She imitated me by the far side of the long window.

"I don't need to act. I am brooding," I laughed back. "But yeah. A little."

"Hill should be up any minute."

"Good. I was getting tired of looking relaxed."

"I'm glad you two get along," Ironwood mumbled. "It bodes well. For you in particular, Strife."

"Eh, it's mostly Ruby." I kicked my foot around, rolling out my left ankle.

"Don't say that. I thought we were friends."

"We are, Penny. I'm trying to brood, though."

"I see…"

Hill pushed her way into the room with a small smile. She took me and Penny in. She had Fiona with her and another woman I recognized as Joanna Greenleaf from a photo.

Fiona nudged Hill. "That's him. Cloud Strife. The killer mercenary."

Hill glanced at me. "I've heard a bit about you, done some nasty business in my town. What? You working for Ironwood now?"

"For the foreseeable future. Judge ordered. You could probably find out about it. Given your seat," Ironwood returned from behind his steepled fingers.

"You give up the merc life?" She asked. Her question directed at me.

"For now," I answered.

"You're a dangerous man, Strife, I'd be glad to hear you're playing for the good guys. If that's what's going on here."

"It sort of is. You fucked with my operation. Don't think I don't know."

"I did nothing illegal. Nothing anybody could prove at any rate." She showed her teeth. I liked her. "Not like you and Taurus."

"You heard anything about him?" I wondered. "I have a blood score to settle with the bastard."

"Not a peep. He's been laying low. Like I thought you and your illusionist were. Color me surprised to find you standing beside the General. Right beside the protector of Mantle after the shit you pulled."

Maybe this was why Ironwood wanted me here. To divert her focus. I doubted he wanted me for moral support. He wanted me on as a distraction. So I'd be as distracting as possible.

"Those charges were dropped," Penny said.

"You hear that?" I asked. "It's like I never did it."

"But you did do it," Fiona spat. "You killed people."

"Interesting way you phrased that," Hill said with a hand raised at Fiona beside her.

"I only killed other criminals." I shrugged. "And I got time served with a hefty fine."

"Meaningless to someone like you," Hill countered.

"Not meaningless. Just the best I could have hoped for."

"But are you reformed? Do you serve Atlas and Mantle well?" Robyn wondered.

"To the very best of my ability, I protect the people now."

"Will you swear by it?" Hill held out her hand.

"Sure. I'll promise." I took her hand. Purple flowed over my hand as I took hers and it wreathed both of us.  "What do you want me to say?" I asked. Words could be very particular.

"That you serve as a guardian to the people, now."

"I serve as a guardian to the people now." I echoed. I technically did before too. Her aura flashed green. It must have registered as true because she reclined looking satisfied.

"Now that that's settled we can get down to business. When will the new tower be ready for launch?"

"Classified. You shouldn't even know about the tower," Ironwood returned.

"But I do. And this will go smoother if we work together, General. I can vote in your favor or I can vote against you at every turn. I can even raise a vote of no confidence."

The General grimaced. I think that he hoped I'd buy him more time before the nitty-gritty.

Robyn leaned over his desk and spread her palms on it. Hunching over on him.

"What's it gonna be, General? I can do worse besides. I can petition to have your council seat taken away. How long will your precious tower take to get completed then. Work with me. I just want to talk."

"You want to talk for now."

"That's right," Hill returned. "I might change my mind based on what I hear, too." At least she was open and clear about it. The value of her prizing honesty.

"The launch is two months out." Ironwood stated.

He stood up and towered over Hill with her slumping over the desk. She recoiled back and stretched to her full height. It was still nowhere near the General and closer to me though she was tall for a woman.

"All of our attention has been on raising the tower and restoring communications between the kingdoms."

"Even though Mantle suffers," she murmured.

I thought about saying something like 'Mantle always suffers' but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn't the time. Never let be said I couldn't be diplomatic.

"Some sacrifices have had to be made to get things done but we're in the final stretch now. No going back."

"I want things to get better for Mantle, General. And fast."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Ironwood vowed.

"I want you to slow down the launch of it means things can get better for Mantle. Diverting both supplies and huntsmen."

"That isn't practical."

"Practical be damned. Mantle always bears the lion's share of the suffering for Atlas. All for it's floating neighbor. You want me to not vote against you at every turn so this project gets completed? You're going to have to make concessions. That means voting my way on minimum wage increases and miner safety standards. Even if those safety standards set back your little project."

Ironwood sighed. It sounded like she had him in a corner.

"We are so close." He grunted. He sounded frustrated and exasperated. "So close to getting this project done. For everybody's benefit."

"Well it just got further away. One way or another. Not one more miner will die for this or anything else. They matter to me. What's it gonna be, James?"

"Friends call me James. You can call me Ironwood or General."

"Petty," she clicked her tongue. She had him in a vice though. She'd be petty and slow down the project too. She was a woman of her word. No one with a semblance like that wouldn't be.

"It sounds like I've got little choice. Just know that once my project is complete I won't back down so easily anymore."

"I'm counting on it, General," she turned on a clicking heel and left. Her tour de force departed with her.

"Sorry. I tried but she wasn't going to be distracted. Not by me and not by Penny."

Ironwood groaned. "The launch just got set back a month. Minimum. And if I start capitulating now who knows when it will end."

"She's a woman of her word. So you've got that going for you."

"At least it wasn't Jacque Schnee," Penny chipped in brightly. "This election could have gone much worse. She's willing to work with you if you work with her."

My scroll chirped. I pulled it out of my pocket.

"Strife. Who’s this?"

"Aurum. I've got a hit on your lady friend. She's here. She's threatening me. She demanded my information. She was asking the same sort of questions you were. I need to know what that's about now."

"You don't. I'll be there."

"My life is on the line! She immolated my men!"

"Try and hold her there. I'm coming. Let's get lucky and kill her."

"Sorry Cloud but I have got to do what I got to do to protect my business."

"Just hold her. I'm on my way."

I cut the connection.

"Something important?" Ironwood asked.

"I got a hit on Cinder. She's about to burn one of my contacts to death. I need to get there."

Ironwood nodded. "Do you need reinforcements? I'll call Ace Ops."

"Better call Team RWBY too and put them on standby with Qrow. She's at The Den."

"I'm sending Penny with you."

"Let's go Penny." I said with a nod by the door. "You and I will fly there."

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Penny and I swooped down on The Den. "You take her accomplices. Let me worry about Cinder."

"Do you believe that you can defeat her?"

"We're about to find out." Let’s hope that sounded confident.

I bust in the door to find the club empty and quiet. The lack of music and the distant smell of inhalants gave the place a void like feeling. It was strangely empty and lacking.

"Sorry Cloud. It's nothing personal. Just business, you understand." It was Aurum's voice coming from the top floor above me. "She forced me. You get it."

There was the clink of glass heels on the floor above us and Cinder Fall came into view.

"You," she purred. "Jaune Arc was it? I owe you for when last we met." Her one eye glowed like embers.

"It was. Not anymore. It's Cloud now."

"A change in name will mean little to my mistress. You're her son."

"Hardly. She didn't raise me," I shot back. I drew the broadsword from over my shoulder. I gripped the enormous handle beneath the titanic cross guard the shield helped form.

"She has bade me not kill you and your sisters have a certain fury I would dread but whatever happens happens," she sung. She spread her fingers and a flame grew across them. "You would have had me last time if not for my maiden powers. Powers which have doubled. I'm sure you are aware. And you've been spying for me. Through this rabble but you've been on the look out nonetheless."

She made Aurum call me, then. Aurum dashed out the exit, trying to keep his life intact and escaping while we were both distracted. Cinder set a trap for me. Sustrai stepped out from behind Cinder with Black in tow. I watched and my vision faded as Sustrai narrowed her eyes at me. She was trying to use her semblance on me.

I shouted at Penny and I watched a blurring kaleidoscope fly up to them and slash out at Emerald with ten floating blades appendages. My vision snapped back into focus and in perfect time for me to see Cinder descending on me with flames pouring from her feet to aid her assault. As she flew she left fire behind on the glass dance floor. I met a strike from her similarly glass weapons and stuttered back a step on the dance floor.

I activated my semblance and brought my weapon around to match her. I drew an electric crystal from my pocket. I crushed it in my palm and sent a thunderbolt at her. She blocked it by crossing her weapons and her one eye flared at me with the power of the maidens. She gestured and a half dozen fireballs floated into place before her. She blew gently. Like she was blowing a kiss at me, I didn’t catch it, and I was forced to dance out of the way of the fireballs.

I went through them. I rolled and floated towards her through the conflagration. I stabbed my sword downward and tore up glass as I pushed it screeching across the dance floor towards her. She met my strike with both her weapons crossed.

Then she struck out at me in high, low, high fashion, alternating each blade. She twirled with the motion and I was forced on the defensive, blocking each one of her attacks. I never let her truly get close to me with the enormous blade between us.

She waved her palm and a flare shot up inside the tight room towards me. I couldn't be sure how Penny was doing against her two opponents because I was too focused on Cinder.

I blocked her and seesawed my weapon down on her. Sparks flew from her glass weapons from where my Titania edge but down into them.

"I'm going to kill you this time. We'll see how my Mother takes that," I whispered. I spoke softly as I threatened her. As I made my vow.

Lightning ran up her weapons and into my arms. It made me tremble in pain for a moment before she pushed me off of her and kicked me in my exposed chest. Then she flew at me.

"Aren't you quite the little rebel. Doing what makes mommy mad?" She laughed at that.

"Oh I'll piss her right the fuck off. Can't imagine she was happy I didn't bring the relic to her."

She pointed her sword at me and there was a kazzap of lightning. I blocked it on the edge of my weapon but she just swung her weapon around her body again. A trail of fire emanating from it and growing larger until she whipped a lash of red hot blaze right at my head.

I rolled again and came up thrusting at her, forcing her to block. She swung at me with one of her glass weapons but at the far range of my weapon I was too distant and she miscalculated.

She dropped into a crouch and pointed both her weapons at me and there was another mighty kazizzle of electricity.  I jumped over it and brought my weapon down on her head in a move that forced her to block with both of her own. It shattered the dance floor around us for yards and yards. All the way to the edge near the bar.

"You're right of course. She was most displeased. She will punish you for it given the opportunity. I think not, however. You will die here."

She waved her hand and a gale picked up. All the glass from the once smooth and now shattered dance floor flew up from it. She gestured at me and I hunkered behind the wide edge of my weapon and weathered the storm of glass pellets. Some struck into my aura and chipped it away. I held firm against the wind.

Blue light still licked at my body but it seemed like my semblance would not be enough. I couldn't imagine spending it and then being forced to fight her without it. If I spent it, when I spent it, it would have to be for the kill. I could use it for no other purpose. And it would probably have to be the Octa slash. No other attack would do enough damage in a single go to take her down except maybe a Finishing Touch.

I'd hardly touched her. Hadn't touched her, I realized.

When the gale broke down she hit me hard with both flaming feet. Not as hard as Penny had with a similar move but hard enough to send me stumbling back. Next she delivered three lighting fast diagonal slashes to my torso. She ripped away massive chunks of my aura.

Then she thrust forward and I blocked to the side. Her weapon buried in my personal soul based force field to the hilt right next to my head. She still managed to rip away a chunk of blue light from my body.

Things were seriously not good. Her magic was too much for me and her competence with a blade in each hand was nothing to scoff at.

I kicked her back. A move that caught her in the gut. Then I swung my blade towards her head in a massive strike that she caught with both her weapons. Making yet another 'x' shape. It seemed to be her go to in order to block against my titanic sword.

I screamed and flew at her. Closing the little distance between us with a shoulder check that knocked her to the ground.

I danced at her, flowing like water as she caught herself on one hand and tried to cartwheel back but I chased her roll now that she was out of position. Now that she was in serious disadvantage and close to me I made to capitalize on it.

I caught up to her and hit her once vertically diagonally downward and to the right. Then I reversed and came diagonally up and to the left. Then I can back down on her diagonally and from the right once more in a staggering triple hit. The kind I'd seen do twenty-five percent or more of Ruby's aura when I wasn't Limit Broken. When I wasn't Limitless.

I didn't spend the charge on it but I did shout, a scream left my lips as I performed the move with exertion. It flung her back and into one of the bars and into the wall in a shattering of glass and bottles.

She flew out of the hole in the wall and through the crevice her body had left in the bar. A trail of flame coming behind her and at her feet. I flew to meet her and where we struck the ground rippled like it was made of liquid for a moment before elasticity caught up with it and it shattered.

I was taller than her. I was conventionally stronger, too. Especially while Limit Break was active and I slowly lowered my weapon down onto her while her back twisted from trying to match me in the crater on the floor.

She kicked my leg at the hip but I only grunted and took it. I took one hand off my blade and backhanded her hard with my knuckles. Then I slid forward a step and reversed my hand and grabbed her by the throat and picked her up into the air. I pulled her in and kneed her in the stomach hard enough to make spittle fly from her lips.

Then Mercury came flying and kicked me in the back. Then he shot me in the back with both of his boot guns.

I twisted to my feet again on a pocket of air. He was breathing hard. So was Cinder where I'd knocked the wind out of her.

I wasn't much better and now that they were alone Emerald let out a scream where Penny slammed her hard into a wall.

"Ma'am…" Mercury trailed.

"Save Emerald," Cinder hissed.

Then I gambled. I dashed forward like I was going to hit Cinder. Then I spent Limit on a thrust but not at her. I thrust up and into Mercury's aura and then into his chest in a crackle of violet energy.

Blood flew from his lips as I speared him. Penny had done enough work for this to pay off and from the sounds of things she'd defeat Emerald too.

"No," Cinder whispered. The battle was out of her favor.

"Yes!" I roared. The edge was ours now.

I watched as Emerald plucked herself from the wall and fell to her knees. A tear on her face as we all saw Mercury slide onto my six foot blade.

"Emerald! Get us out of here!" Cinder called.

I swung my sword and Mercury flopped off the blade. He was already dead. I flexed and started charging my next semblance. With slow promise I stood and began the charge. Soon.

"Emerald!" Cinder barked. I was assaulted with a massive illusion. Penny was too from the way she stepped back in shock on the second floor. A gigantic image of my Mother rose from the twisted glass and roared.

Cinder burned a hole in the wall and grabbed Emerald's sobbing form and fled. I was too shocked by the cyclopean vision of my Mother to move.

"Cloud!" Penny called to me distantly. I fell to my knees before the image of my Mother and held my hands up like I was expecting an attack, I fumbled my sword with dumb hands. My brain burned and my mind was ajar.

Mother…

I thought. And despite that I knew it was an illusion. Despite the distance between us I heard her answer.

“My son…”

"No…" I whimpered.

“Yes…”  

The voice seethed.

“Yes… you belong to me… I am your mistress…”

I could feel her shadow on the corner of my mind. She twisted into me and trapped me between agonies I knew weren't true.

"Cloud are you alright?"

The massive image of my Mother faded. But she lingered on my brain. A growing pressure. I howled in pain. She raked at my body and I convulsed.

"Cloud, it wasn't real."

"She's in my… my… my…" I stuttered like a broken record player. Then I started to froth at the mouth. I seized on the broken dance floor.

“My son… my precious son…”

"Oh my gods!" I heard Penny cry. "Don't worry, Cloud, help is on the way!"

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-WG

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter two - “bucky”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.4k

summary: after arriving in wakanda, (Y/N) figures out who and what she’s there for (with the help of our fav young genius)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

"Christ, you're astonishingly intelligent. How could you possibly need my help?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm kind of a joke compared to your big brain."

As the young Wakandan princess showed (Y/N) around her extremely impressive laboratory, she thought back to her conversation with Sharon.

***

"I'm needed? In Wakanda?" she said, dumbfounded. "What am I gonna do? Help them hunt for food?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sharon began. "Wakanda isn't what you think it is. The third world country we all thought we knew is just a facade to protect the true nature of Wakanda."

(Y/N) stared, not following. Sharon continued.

"It's actually a highly advanced, technologically progressive metropolis. They have some of the smartest people and most exceptional innovations in the world. It was all a cover up."

She nodded, finally understanding, "Well, I can't say that I blame them for hiding from the world. I can only imagine what would happen, especially from the hands of America."

Sharon chuckled. "Steve settled things with T'Challa, the former prince, and the royal family are allowing him and Barnes to take refuge there until further notice. Evidently, they have the tech and the minds to undo whatever damage Hydra did to Barnes."

***

"Well, I could do this by myself, but my focus is predominantly on electromagnetism, quantum mechanics, and high-energy particle physics," the young princess explained, gesturing to various pieces of state-of-the-art tech around her lab. "I'm not really an expert in social sciences just yet; that would be you. I was told you were exceptional. Oh, and Captain Rogers needed someone he could trust on short notice. So, here you are, on account of a Sharon Carter, right?"

"Absolutely correct... your highness?" (Y/N) replied, though it was more of a question than anything else.

The princess laughed a genuine laugh, "Oh, no need for formalities! We're colleagues now and we're going to be working collaboratively. Please, call me Shuri."

"Got it," she nodded, smiling and slightly embarrassed. "...so, not to sound like more of an idiot than I probably already seem, but what exactly is this project we're working on? No one really thought it would be a good idea to tell me before I took the plane ride to another continent- which is lovely by the way."

"Well," Shuri started, gesturing her to follow along as they walked through the rest of the lab, "you know that man who allegedly bombed the UN conference in Vienna, consequently killing my father and forcing my brother to assume his place as king?"

(Y/N) gulped. "Yes."

"Yeah, he's here. He's the project. But don't worry! He didn't actually set off the bomb; he was framed."

Oh. Okay. What was she supposed to say to that? (Y/N) couldn't figure out an answer so she continued to nod and try not to look too idiotic.

"As you already know, he has suffered greatly. He's not in control of his own mind. Our job is to dismantle whatever programming Hydra drilled into his poor brain through years of abuse and torture."

(Y/N) remembered the horrible things she read in his file. The trauma, the cruelty, the destruction of humanity. Suddenly, she was no longer at a loss of words... or thoughts. She was going to help an innocent man. Well, the truly innocent man who was locked inside Hydra's homemade killer.

What was done to him was a monstrosity; it was, up to date, the worst thing she had ever seen done to a human being. And, if she can do anything to help take away or relieve some of that pain, she was happy to play her part. A good way to do that was probably to zone back in to what Shuri was saying.

"...and there's two main components to this. Number one is his physical pain. Meaning the biochemicals and neurons in his brain in addition to his arm and the nerve endings and anything else of his that they broke: the stuff I will take care of. Number two is his mental pain. Meaning his psyche, trauma, behavior, emotions, and all that other fun psychology stuff that you will take care of."

"So, I'm basically operating as a therapist?"

"Basically. Among other things."

(Y/N) stared at the floor in front of her, letting it all sink in. She was going to therapize the Winter Soldier. Whatever that was going to entail was a mystery to her. He was nothing she'd ever heard of. Of course she was extraordinary at her job, but this was new territory for her.

Unaware of what else to say, (Y/N) blurted out, "So... you said he's here..."

"Yes. Follow me, you can come meet him."

Maybe that wasn't the best thing to blurt. He is innocent, but that doesn't stop him from scaring her a bit... even though she's never actually met him in the person.

She followed behind as Shuri led her out of the lab and through a multitude of different rooms and hallways. She was nervous, indeed. She was in a place she'd never been with people she'd never met about to see a person with a caliber she'd of never imagined.

(Y/N) wondered what he'd be like. Would she be meeting who he was before Hydra sunk their claws into him? Or would she be meeting some hybrid of the man he used to be and the pain he's been forced to endure? She wasn't sure what to expect. But she didn't have time to imagine another scenario when Shuri opened a door and they were greeted by a freezing cold breeze.

"Don't mind the cold. It's supposed to be like that," Shuri said as she held the door open and walked inside.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around her midsection before her mouth dropped. In the middle of the room stood a giant glass chamber holding no other than James Barnes inside. It looked so strange to her, surreal even. He was frozen? Suspended animation. She didn't think humans were supposed to look like that. He almost looked dead. The slightest shiver ran down her spine.

"He's in a state of cryogenic sleep," Shuri explained. "Completely alive, but the chamber reduces his metabolism to its lowest possible level, allowing his body to be preserved for long periods of time."

"That's... slightly horrifying. I've heard of cryogenics, but I've never seen it first hand. How does it even work?" (Y/N) inquired as she ran her hand lightly across the glass.

It's so cold. She couldn't imagine being in there.

"In cryogenic sleep, an antifreeze agent is added, replacing the water in his cells. Then, the tissue is cooled to -220 degrees Fahrenheit, but instead of crystallizing into ice, the chemicals clump together and become solid. They're actually molecularly similar to glass. This new glass form prevents the cells from bursting and, theoretically, this could hold him in stasis forever."*

"Wow," she mused, still awestruck, staring at the chamber.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I'm good," (Y/N) chuckled, "it's just that advanced science is just shocking sometimes. And when you said I was going to meet him, I didn't think you meant like this."

Shuri smiled. "Oh, I didn't."

And with that, all it took was the push of a button and the chamber came out of dormancy. It was whirring and hissing, and (Y/N) could feel the temperature slowly start to rise. She glanced up and witnessed what looked like a miracle as color began to bloom onto his previously blanched features. He too was coming out of dormancy; he was coming alive.

(Y/N) almost startled when his eyes opened, but remained completely still when the chamber door opened. James blinked a couple times, taking in his surroundings. He looked anxious; she could understand why. She tried not to meet his eyes.

I'll let Shuri take the lead on this one, she thought.

As if on queue, Shuri gave him a polite smile and started to undo his restraints.

"Hello Sergeant Barnes. Welcome back! My name is Shuri, T'Challa's younger and much smarter sister. This," she gestured to (Y/N), "is Dr. (Y/L/N). Together, we'll be conducting your treatment plan."

He stepped out of the chamber, shaking Shuri's hand. He had almost a foot over her but towered over both of them regardless. Then, he turned to (Y/N). She wasn't sure what to think.

"It's nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes," she said with a curt smile, as she shook his hand. Cold. She pretended not to notice.

He looked down at her and for a moment she thought he looked docile. Benevolent and soft.

His eyes are very blue.

"Please," he said, a kindhearted gentleness coating his voice, "call me Bucky."

- - -

* = info on cryogenics from inverse.com

[mimik-u]

Fragments III, 1-100

300 drabbles about Steven Universe/Future, 100 words each! These are the first 100 prompts and writer’s choices that have been fulfilled.

Asterisks are placed next to my personal favorites that I’ve written.

Baggage* — Steven meets his new therapist!

Eternity —How about a Bellow interaction you've always wanted to see in canon but didn't get to?

Foe —Jasper is simultaneously satisfied and yet left deeply empty inside by her self-isolation on Earth, and doesn't understand how to even begin to process this dichotomy. (So she doesn’t.)

Letter — Young Greg's POV when he wrote those letters to his parents Steven found on Mr. Universe episode.

Sword —Connie interacting with someone she doesn't usually talk to by herself (ex Jasper, Bismuth, Lapis, etc.).

Reconciliation — Idk about you but I wanna see more Mega Pearl. The others have not met Mega Pearl.

Marks —How about... Spinel, and the tiny, everyday baby steps towards healing?

Tangled — Peridot finds out/is told about PD/RQ? (And is confirmed in her guess that Pearl is fancy...?)

Challenge* — How is Steven’s TubeTube channel doing?

Bruises — Priyanka tends to Connie's wounds after training sessions with Pearl. [Writer’s Choice]

Rest* — Yellow Diamond gets to relax. (She's the one who most expresses regret and real understanding. Let her take a nap! She deserves it!)

Barbecue* — Post-movie, during cleanup, Steven and Lars talk and plan the BBQ we got a glimpse at during the final song.

Ghost — Yellowtail and Greg talk about fatherhood and how it can be ruined (mentioning Marty and Greg's father subtly).

UNO* — Date between Pearls (platonic or otherwise).

Height — The pebbles!!! They're so small???? Where are they? *Sobs, points at the Heaven and Earth Beetles.*

Embrace — Steven gets a well-deserved cuddle pile from family and friends.

Constructs — Bismuth and Peridot have a lot more in common than they think.

Horns — Amethyst makes an unexpected new friend at Little Homeschool. (Whichever other character you feel would fit best!)

Garden — Pre-show scene. While having a funny chat, Greg mentions something that reminds Rose about her abandoning Spinel, which makes her regret more of her choices.

Advice — Garnet can tell when Stevonnie has a lot on their mind. [Writer’s Choice.]

Hum — Yellow and her relationship with music.

Love* — Pearl considering her romantic feelings towards someone and thinking about how she's finally moving on from Rose. (Doesn't mean she'll ever forget her.)

Kid — A glimpse into “Sadie Killer.” Maybe when they played their first show, while Steven was still in the band. Celebrating afterward or a discussion on why Steven didn't stay IN the band?

Troubleshooting* — Integration of gem communication networks and Earth Internet and phone lines and the resulting inevitable disaster.

Fairytale — Connie gets a tour of Little Homeworld.

Hope — Jasper finally starting to let her guard down and realize her self worth.

Song* — As for prompts... Steg? Like, him in general, just being himself. It's a bummer we only got to see him in the movie.

Mistakes* — Steven talking to someone (not a therapist, just another character) about his trauma?

Forgiveness — The Topaz fusion reconnects with the Crystal Gems at Little Homeschool and apologizes for her role in the kidnapping all those years ago.

Visions — Sapphire and Ruby reflect on the events of "Together Forever." [Writer’s Choice]

Reunited — Maybe a scene where Yellow comes home from a long escapade and is reunited with a worried Spinel?

Beginnings — After CYM, Lapis and Peridot discuss where to live since the barn is destroyed.

Pet* — White Diamond happily announces one day that she has decided to take in a small creature (of your choosing) as a pet.

Together — What were Doc, Army, Navy, and Leggy doing during Future?

Desert — Steven meeting Lion from Lion's perspective. I dunno, I think it could be neat.

Freedom — For a post-CYM/SU:F prompt, what do you think about the exact moment it hit either Blue or Yellow Pearl that they were completely free to follow their whims?

Apologies — Greg apologizes to Steven due to the incident in “Mr. Universe” and both have the talk they should've had in that episode.

Change — Blue and Yellow Zircon's relationship has improved even if they are now rivals in the new democratic Homeworld. This last tiny bit is related to the “Homeworld Bound” episode.

Hug — Bellow cuddling. Yellow has no idea what to do, but Blue is loving it.

Valentine* — Steven gives Peridot a Valentine's Day gift. [Writer’s Choice]

Spite — Aquamarine and Eyeball are distraught at knowing they won't be rewarded for their actions because their worst enemy, Steven Universe, has been labeled a hero and royalty by the Diamonds.

Reevaluation — How about more Peedee and Steven friendship? Like, Peedee noticing Steven’s change in demeanor the farther along the show we get?

Camp — Connie kicking ass at space camp.

Family — The night after the events of the movie, Steven gets some quality family time.

Homestretch — Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth spend time together while preparing Little Homeworld.

Enough — We know what Jenny, Sour Cream, and Buck are gonna do for their futures, but what's Kiki been up to? Is she gonna take over the pizzeria?

Spillage — Vidalia and Amethyst catch up after Steven's monster episode.

Reformation — White Diamond has learned how to be so extremely empathetic to the point that she literally becomes another person, but has she really begun to understand others?

Comment* — Sardonyx makes some Internet videos.

Unicorn — While traveling through California, Steven encounters two fishermen arguing about unicorns. [SU/GF crossover.] [Writer’s Choice]

Worry — Andy and Greg stay in touch.

Homerun* — I hopal for Opal—perhaps she will attempt some baseball.

Skydancer — Post-CYM, Pearl getting to “truly” take Steven out for a joy ride through the cosmos in a properly operational ship of her design.

Mercy* — The shattering-is-wrong discussion between Rose and Bismuth that led to Bis being bubbled.

Happy — Smoky Quartz hasn't made a self deprecating joke in a while—is it Steven's therapy?

Electric* — Yellow’s gloves—I feel like they’re covering something up, maybe.

Cake — Fusion Cuisine 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Belonging — The Rose Quartz sisters visit again.

Transcendence — Fluorite offers someone wise caterpillar grandma advice.

March — Connie and Steven reflect on changes in life after the pandemic. Not canon compliant. [Writer’s Choice.]

Understanding — Onion be doing Onion things.

Ocean* — Andy and Steven post-”I Am My Monster”? I love their relationship, lol.

Ignorance* — Does Lapis even realize Bismuth was probably the one who poofed her?

Reflection — Did I already say more Mega Pearl? ‘Cause there can never be enough Mega Pearl.

Possibility* — Yellow deciding she should try putting shattered gems back together. (She probably broke the most.)

Storyboard — Peridot’s budding career as a storyboarder.

Fall — Lapis and Steven talk about trauma and recovery. Pre-The Future.

Limbo — How the dismantled gempire has affected the lives of noble gems like Emerald, Holly Blue Agate, and others.

Now — Garnet reminds herself to live in the present.

Grief* — Alexandrite forms for the first time. [Writer’s Choice]

Inauguration — Wait, did Connie's parents ever meet Stevonnie?

Please — Did Kevin ever learn anything? Naaaaaah....unless...

Friend — General prompt? A sequel/prequel to this, please [White D’s panther].

Treatment — Greg starting to learn more about gem stuff to be more involved in Steven's life if something ugly happens.

Numbers — Pearl, please do something with all those phone numbers in your head.

Generations — Rose continues to discover the wonders of Earth, even after all this time. (No angst allowed in this one, just pure wonder.)

Survival — The Off-Colors used to have more members in the past.

Acting — How did Rainbow 2.0 even get invited to babysit Onion?

Kindness* — Former Mayor Dewey coming to terms with his new position in town.

Play — The Gems and Greg try to capture Steven's first moments on a bike. [Writer’s Choice]

Documentary — Ronaldo makes a real actually informative documentary about Little Homeworld.

Rain — Blue Diamond still cries sometimes.

Zoophobia — Also, I saw Z and my immediate thought was "Zoophobia.”

Echo* — Why does the tiny floating whale have Rose's voice before Steven ever heard it in the tape?

Sketch — Steven and Connie discover an anime character/mythological figure who bears an awfully similar resemblance to Obsidian.

Unironically — Why does Buck wanna be a doctor?

Club — How did Bismuth, Lapis, and Peri become such tight friends?

Nostalgia — Greg considers a comeback tour.

Pressure* — The creation of the Diamonds, maybe?

Coping — Amethyst and Pearl grapple with Rose's pregnancy. [Writer’s Choice]

Theatre — Sugilite, meet Rainbow 2.0.

Dadhood* — Whatever happened to Mrs. Fryman? IS there a Mrs. Fryman, or was it only a passing on-and-off thing that resulted in kids?

Lingering — Jasper finally lets Malachite go.

Human — Steven talks to his therapist about his mom, the feelings of before and the now. (It was left open-ended—his relationship with his mother.)

Words — Kofi is proud of his daughters.

Quest — [Letter prompt] Quest.

Picture — Sour Cream and Steven talking about absent parents and bad parenting. Post-The Future.

Bittersweet* — Shep finally gets to meet the notorious Lars.

Gemini — Spinel discovers memes and we're all doomed.

Weird — When he's younger, Steven doesn't quite know how to label the Gems.

[internallyinarticulate]

Frustration

(Yandere Cop!Abbacchio x Female Reader) 

Alright this is my second attempt at a jojo fanfic, I hope you all enjoy! This is the first chapter of this series! (I don’t know exactly how many chapters there will be, but there will be quite a few! I’ll make sure to link them all together on each post I make for this series!)

 Also this chapter is long, so buckle up!

Chapter One: The Call

(3rd Person Pov)

The gently setting sun cascading a plethora of warm colors put (y/n)’s mind at ease, letting her know that the busy day she had earlier was finally over. Being a manager in a decently sized book store near the heart of Naples was not something to scoff at, especially considering the fact it was Saturday. The busiest day of each week, which always drove (y/n) to a point where she wanted to slam her head onto a table due to the volume of annoyances she had to deal with. 

From people complaining about prices, children ‘playing’ too roughly with the books, to just dealing with the rush of people in general. Now that isn’t to say that (y/n) hated her job, in fact she loved it, most of the time she was greeted with a quiet bookstore filled with people who understood what a bookstore was and how to treat it decently. And the people that she met during these times were almost always polite, save for the few people that would come back from Saturday's and Sunday's excursion with some type of complaint. These things would frustrate (y/n) but it was nothing that she couldn’t handle. The pay for the job was not bad at all, it allowed her to own a nice maisonette with two floors to decorate to her heart’s content, and even splurge on trips around Italy. All in all, her life was tranquil at the moment, and that was exactly what she strived for.

(Y/n) entered her home and quickly took her shoes off, throwing them down in triumph as she quickly made her way to the couch positioned in front of the t.v.

“Finally, some peace and quiet.” she said as she sprawled out on the couch, letting out a content sigh as her mind raced through the events of the day. From the moment she woke up at 6:30am to the time she got home at 8:04pm, she had been running around non-stop. Even her break was spent running down to a bakery to grab food for her co-worker and herself! She let out a groan as the sound of a phone ringing was heard in the distance. She begrudgingly sat up and went to retrieve her purse from the coffee table in front of her. She looks at her phone and sees it’s a message from her boyfriend (B/n).  

‘Hey sweetie, I just wanted to check in on you. How was work today?’ she lays back down as she messages him back,

‘It was crazy busy like every damn Saturday, how was work for you?’

‘Could have been better, but hey, at least we're both out of it now!’ she chuckled at how excited she imagined him sounding, he also enjoyed relaxing after a hellish day of work. Just as she was about to message back she heard a knock at her door; she stood up confused, who the hell could that be at this hour? She set her phone down on the coffee table and headed over to the door, concern filling her head. 

“Hello?’ she called out as she approached the door, hesitantly looking into the peephole. No one was there, however a piece of paper on her doormat caught her attention. She opened the door and half expected to be ambushed by someone, but was met with nothing but a light breeze and a starry night sky.  

“It got that dark already? How long have I been home?” she asked herself as she bent down to grab the paper.  It was folded up, a bright red check mark greeted her as she unfolded the page. 

“What the hell?” she said out loud, she quickly looked around her surroundings and proceeded to head back inside. She looked back at the paper in her hands, flipping it around, trying to find something else besides a giant red check mark. She sighs as she sets the paper down on her kitchen counter, it was probably some kids trying to freak her out with some stupid prank. She wonders whether to get some food or go back to her couch and fall asleep to some late night shows. 

An ear piercing shatter sounds off by her head as she lets out a scream, the sound of broken glass falling from her kitchen window makes her look up and freeze in horror. Someone’s arm was working on pushing the glass shards that were left behind from the shattered window. (y/n) snaps out of her trance and bolts upstairs, just as a man places his hands on the window frame and lifts himself inside. A man with shaggy dark brown hair, a black tank-top with the words ‘Freedom is anarchy’ crudely written in white paint, an open black hoodie, and ripped up black jeans stands up slowly; almost comically, and scans the room for his target. 

“Now where did you run off to little lamb?!~” he yells out as he walks through her kitchen into her living room. He glances around and makes his way through all possible hiding places while (y/n) hides in her closet upstairs. 

Meanwhile in the maisonette next door, the sound of the broken window alerted a young man by the name of Alessandro Romano. He knew that his neighbor, (y/n) (l/n), was not a rambunctious person; well at least rambunctious enough to break a damn window. The loud feminine scream which followed immediately after solidified to him that she was not the cause of the window breaking, which prompted him to grab his phone and called the police.

“311 what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, I believe my neighbor’s house is being broken into. I heard a window break and I heard her scream, you have to help her quickly!” 

“May I have your name, and the name of your neighbor; Along with your addresses?”

As Alessandro worked with the 311 operator the man in (y’n)’s apartment had begun to grow irritated as he looked around for his victim. He brought out a large knife and began to drag it along the wall as he started to slowly walk upstairs, calling out to her. 

“I know you’re upstairs little lamb, let me in. I promise your death will be quick, though I can’t promise it will be painless!” 

His footsteps were almost comically slow as he pressed the knife harder into the wall as the smile he held grew wider at the aspect of cornering his victim. Though he had to admit, he would be thrilled if when he opened the door she attempted to run, he loved it when they tried to run. He started to slam his footsteps down onto the steps leading to her room, each one louder than the last, until he was practically bashing his foot against each stair. He wanted, no, needed to scare his victim. It’s what made this all so pleasurable; Not the aspect of ending a life, but the thrill of the hunt and the case that would ensue. Sometimes from him, sometimes from them, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he caught his prey in the end, and rewarded their exhilarating tears and screams with a painful death. 

(Y’n) heard the dramatic footsteps and cursed at herself for forgetting her cellphone. She cursed herself once more as she remembered the conversation she had with her boyfriend and how insistent he was to have her put a home phone in her bedroom. 

��Honey I have my cell phone on me 24/7, why would I need a home phone in my room? Besides it will be loud as hell when people call!”

‘That’s kind of the point (y/n), also you can set the tones of the calls received to be softer rather than louder.’

‘Well i think it’ll be a waste of time and money to set it up, i’ll be fine with just the home phone downstairs and my cellphone!’

‘*sigh* Alright, but when we move in I'm putting in a home phone.’

‘Fiiine!’ 

‘Dammit (B/n) I hate when you’re right about shit like that’ (Y/n) thought to herself as she clenched the tiny pocket knife that she had managed to grab from her dresser before she hid in her closet. She opened the door slightly and looked at the door that separated her from a grisly demise. She didn’t have a lot of furniture in her room but what she could easily move, she used. Her desk chair had been propped up against the door along with a wooden chest that she had received from her father as a nice parting gift when she moved out. She had managed to position the chest next to the chair in a way that would prevent the killer from being able to open the door too widely; It was an extra precaution just in case this mad man was able to break down the lock on the door and shove down the chair that was propped up against the door handle. She closed the door and took a deep breath; She was attempting to bottle up her emotions so she wouldn’t give this bastard any satisfaction from hearing her cry or scream in fear and frustration. All of this just had to happen to her, out of everyone in Naples it just had to be her! She would laugh if she wasn’t so scared at the moment, clenching the knife even harder as she heard the man finally make his way to her door. 

“Officer Abbacchio, Come in Abbacchio do you hear me? Over.” a radio sounded off in a police vehicle which was slowly cursing down a busy street in Naples. A young officer quickly picks up his radio and confidently answers back,

“I hear you, what is it? Over.” 

“We have a 10-16, break in at a residential area. Suspect is suspected to still be inside the residence, the only occupant of said residence is a young female named (y/n) (l/n), I’ll have the rest of the information relayed onto your screen. Over.”

“10-04, heading over to the address right now. Over and out.” 

Officer Abbacchio turns on his sirens and presses down on the pedal, speeding along with the rest of traffic, his mind focusing on the possible situation he might be stumbling into. 

‘There’s a high possibility that the perp will have a weapon, scratch that, he definitely has one considering he broke into the home through a window.’ He thought as he quickly read what popped up on his screen. He presses down on the pedal harder as he sees people moving to the side to let him through, a determined look crosses his face when he sees from his gps that he is no more than 5 minutes away from the address given to him.

‘I’ll make it there in three minutes with how quick people are letting me through, this is perfect!’ 

He arrived in the exact time frame he predicted and quickly got out of the vehicle, his hand gun drawn immediately. He approached the front door of the residence with extreme caution, following his training perfectly, he scoped the area and when he knew it was clear, he kicked down the door. 

“This is the Naples police! Come out with your hands raised!” 

A deep voice yelled out after the door was broken, the sound of two firm kicks alerted the mad man inside that he was no longer alone with his victim, an officer has interrupted his game. The man got to work and slowly opened the door, only to find it locked. He smirked as he put his blade down and quickly pulled out a multi-tool, getting to quick work on the outer casing of the door knob as the officer below started to sweep the area. 

“This is the police! I am aware that you’re in here, come out with your hands up now!” 

The officer yelled louder than before, worry evident in his demanding tone. The man had finished with the door knob and carefully removed the handle, undid the mechanism which locked the door, and attempted to open the door. The handle on the other side popped off and the chair that had been pressed up against the door knob fell, alerting both the man and the officer. The man tried to open the door again, only for it to open roughly halfway before having it stop yet again, the rushing footsteps of the officer downstairs gave the man an adrenaline rush as he forced his body through the door. He was greeted with a dark room, he quickly flipped on the switch as the officer made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Come out! Hands where I can see them!” the officer yelled out again, hoping to get some kind of response. The man snickered and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the closet, that had to be where his little victim was. 

(Y/n) held her hand to her mouth tightly, pressing her fingers against her lips in an effort to not scream as she heard the killer barge into her room. She had heard another voice yell out but it was muffled by the distance and doors between her and said voice; She thought it was her killer, becoming enraged at her attempts to keep him out of her room. The sound of the closet door knob moving both startled her from her thoughts and filled her with fear. She grasped onto the doorknob tightly as she felt the man desperately trying to break in. 

“Come on little lamb, let me in so I can rid you of your suffering!” 

The man screamed out as the doorknob stopped moving. The sound of a sharp thud alerted her as she held the knob tighter, unsure of what he was doing. The deranged man’s smile widened to a sickening degree as the knife made one final thrust into the door before the blade went through it, showering (y/n) with splinters of wood as it pierced through. A loud scream ripped from (y/n) as she saw how close the blade came to her face, just one more inch and she would be done for! She could not let go of the knob, or that would let the killer in; So she quickly tried to readjust herself before he had the chance to attack her through the hole he had just made. Loud footsteps caught her attention as a new voice shouted out 

“Put your hands where i can see them!” 

(Y/N) dared to look through the hole that the killer made and saw a very welcoming sight. An officer with white buzz cut hair and piercing dawn eyes glared at the man who stood in front of the closet door. (Y/n) took a deep breath before she called out,

“Officer, I'm in here! Please help me!” 

Officer Abbacchio looked over at the closet door, noticing a (e/c) eye looking back at him through the knife hole the man made. He noticed the scared look in the young woman’s eye and grew more determined then before to help her. 

“Don’t worry, the situation is under control.” He called out to her as he went back to glaring at the man before him who had begun to snicker. The young officer felt a chill go down his spine as he got a close look at the man, The blade he held in his hand was covered in a dark red substance, which officer abbacchio assumed was blood given the current circumstance. 

“Drop the weapon now, and put your hands up.”

“Now why would I do that officer? Can’t you see i'm a little busy here?” 

The psycho rammed the knife into the closet again, eliciting a scream from (y/n). Officer Abbacchio gripped his gun tighter, giving the woman in the closet a quick glance through the hole, he saw tears start to fall from her (e/c) which only added fuel to his urge to protect her. 

“Do it now or I will shoot you! This is your final warning!” 

The man’s smirk grew as he turned to the officer, and lunged at him. Officer Abbacchio took aim and let out a single round, the bullet casing clattering onto the hardwood floor as the sound of the shot resonated within the room. 

-CHAPTER 1 END-

(Thanks for reading!)

[yastaghr]

Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers 3

Summary: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

Link: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

The first ride of the trip was always the most problematic. This trip was no exception. Nightmare had sighed when Ink had lost his stirrups the first time. The next three times had been annoying. After that it had ceased to be annoying and started to become funny. Rustle wasn’t going to let him fall, and it wasn’t like Nightmare himself hadn’t ridden without stirrups before. Just so long as he kept his heels down Nightmare would be happy.

But that was just the start of the problems. Dream was turning out to be just as annoying as he knew he’d be, but for an entirely different problem. That problem had a name. His name was Cross. Cross, apparently, hadn’t taken enough heed of all the stories Nightmare had shared with his gang about Dream. Cross was too thirsty for that. He was taking full advantage of his position behind Dream to watch his ass. Yes, he said it was because he wanted to be sure of the other’s seat, but Nightmare knew better. One, he knew that Dream’s seat was impeccable, and two, he could see the purple blush on Cross’ cheeks. He was just lucky that Dream didn’t notice. He would only pay for ogling a client, not for trying to go behind Killer’s and Nightmare’s backs.

The next problem was Dust. It was always like this; as soon as he thought Nightmare had gone out of his hearing range he started talking to his brother. Nightmare sighed. Blue didn’t seem too disturbed, but that couldn’t be said of his pony. Berry hadn’t ridden near Dust recently, so the gelding must have forgotten about his chattering. His ears were constantly swiveled back, but Blue seemed to be handling him well. His seat was good and his hands were soft even as he maintained control over the horse. That made Nightmare feel better about letting him stay there.

The last problem, and one that Nightmare had been predicting, was Ink’s paints. Their sloshing around was scaring the pack train. Blood and Sugar eventually had the whole line stop so they could redistribute the load. That seemed to calm down the mules, but Cherry was being his usual spooky self. That was okay. They were used to Cherry’s spookiness.

Nightmare was impressed when they made the first stopping place in reasonable time. He had allowed for much more malarky than actually occurred. Unfortunately it looked like they needed that time. The camp was in shambles. If Nightmare had to guess he would have said that a herd of elk had bedded down there recently. The trees were still leaking sap, the grass was laid flat by the weight of those sleeping bodies, and the tents that were the sleeping areas were torn to the ground. Nightmare sighed. It would take at least an hour to fix everything.

His crew immediately ground tied their horses and got to work. Dust and Blood saw to the grass, fluffing it up so that the horses could actually eat. Cross set to gathering firewood and wiping down the trees. Sugar looked after the pack train. Error used his strings to fix the tents, and Killer helped Ink to dismount. Dream and Blue had gotten down and were looking around.

“How can we help, brother?” Dream said instantly, Blue right beside him. Nightmare blinked his one eye at him. He hadn’t expected them to want to help.

“Why don’t you… help Sugar unload the food for tonight?” He eventually said. He still didn’t trust his brother, not after what he had done, but he knew that unpacking the mules would be very hard to mess up.

Dream and Blue nodded, ground tied their horses, and walked calmly over to Sugar. Good. They at least knew better than to spook the horses.

=====

Killer’s soft voice interrupted his focus on his brother. “Somebody’s got a crush, huh?”

Nightmare spun to face him. Killer had his signature grin on his face, and his soul was beating at a speed Nightmare recognized as happy. Nightmare relaxed slightly and said, “I didn’t realise Cross was being so obvious. He’s been ogling Dream’s ass this entire time.”

Killer chuckled. Nightmare didn’t see what was so funny. “Yeah, Cross. The big guy’s always had a soft spot for people who dote on the horses.”

Nightmare tilted his head. He didn’t particularly remember Cross being like that in the past, but Killer was miles away more observant than he was. That was why Nightmare trusted him to be his second in command. He was a general; Killer was his chief of intelligence. Neither of them could operate without the other. And they both needed Cross to keep the peace between them and guard against the dangers of the road.

“Well, he’d better be prepared to meet the consequences of his actions. Dream is a client, and he is definitely not a part of our relationship. What would you say would be an appropriate punishment? 15 lashes?”

Killer grinned. If there was ever a monster who was the definition of a sadist, it was Killer.  “Oh, at least. I’d say we edge him a few times, too.”

Nightmare shook his head. He had the final say in this, and he thought that that was going a bit too far. “It’s only been a few hours, Killer. If he continues this behaviour tomorrow, then we can think about edging him. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Killer said, saluting. Then he wandered off to begin unsaddling the horses for the night and getting everything ready for supper.

=====

Blue was fascinated by the fire. He could vaguely hear the rest of the Star Sanses and Nightmare’s Gang moving around, setting up things for the night, cooking food on the other side of the fire, and, in Ink’s case, chattering away. None of that really mattered to him right now, though. His whole attention was consumed by the fire.

It had been so long since he had seen an untamed fire like this. When he was younger he saw them every weekend while his Dad was still alright and well. Then, after his accident, Blue had seen them every night as he struggled to raise a child all on his own. Then Stretch had grown up enough to say he hated the smell of smoke and that was that. Blue hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now.

Blue’s hypnotized state ended when one of Nightmare’s Gang sat next to him and passed him a cup. Blue looked into it. It seemed to have… ketchup?

“Here, drink it. I’ve never met a Sans who didn’t like a condiment, and you’re pretty cute, so enjoy,” The stranger said. His voice was deeper than Blue would have pictured, deeper and hoarser. Blue would have predicted the hoarseness after all of the talking this monster had done today.

Blue honestly wasn’t sure who the monster behind him had been talking to, but he couldn’t judge. One of his best friends still hadn’t stopped talking. Ink would have been hoarse had he been a normal monster. He wasn’t.  It wasn’t that he was crazy. Ink was the kind of anomaly that rules had to be built around. So was the dark boned skeleton Blue recognized from a few years ago. Now if only Blue knew his n-

“What’s your name, anyway? I’m Sans, obviously, but most people call me Dust. Not my brother, though. He still calls me Sans,” Dust said with a grin, his mismatched eye lights shining bright. The concentric rings of red and purple were almost as fascinating as the fire.

“I’m Blue,” he said, startled, “Technically it’s Dr. Blue, but I don’t actually practice at the moment, so most people call me Blue. My brother calls me Sans, though, too.”

The wide smile that shone from Dust’s skull was dazzling. Blue’s eye lights widened as he took it in. Wow, Dust was cute. A blush spread across Blue’s maxilla, along with a hesitant smile. Maybe he could do something about that? Stretch wouldn’t be happy, but he already wasn’t happy about this little trip. What would be the harm in having a little fun?

“Well, Dr. Blue, I’d love to have you examine me sometime,” Dust said, waggling his brow bones.

Oh, that was flirting! Blue knew what to do with flirting. He batted his eyelids back at Dust and leaned in. “Oh, I’d be happy to. I’m sure you have some pieces of your anatomy that can fascinate me for hours. I might even have one or two suggestions that would make your life more… pleasurable! Mweh heh heh heh!”

=====

Ink overheard his friend laughing and grinned from ear to ear. “Yay, Blue! I’m glad he’s feeling good enough to laugh. He’s always so stuffy! That was one of the reasons we took this trip; to make Blue relax a bit! He-”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?” Error growled. He was securing the last string to the ground with some kind of spike. Ink didn’t know the names of any of this stuff, and he barely knew Error’s name. As far as he was aware he had never left the city before. Then again, his memory was absolutely horrible. Not as bad as Blue’s dad’s, but still objectively horrible. Good thing he wasn’t objective!

“Nope!” Ink said, popping the p. “I don’t like it when things are quiet at all! It’s super scary and makes me feel isolated and alone in a place where no one can rescue me. The same thing happens if I see too much of the color white! It’s kind of a trigger, so I fill up the silence with as much noise as I can and make lots of art! I’m constantly repainting the walls of my apartment, and I always have some music playing at home.”

Error was giving Ink the funniest look. It was almost… sympathetic? Curiosity sparked in Ink’s mind. Why would anyone relate to an experience like that? Ink was about to ask when Error spoke up. “That’s stupid. You’ve got actual friends, idiot. They’re not going to abandon you.”

Ink nodded. “I know that, but that’s not how triggers work. Triggers are totally illogical. They’re weird little psychological phenomena that we don’t fully understand. A trigger can be anything from the smell of lilacs, to the taste of chemo medicine, to the feeling of tulle between your toes, to the sight of a specific crack on the ceiling of your house, to-”

“The sound of door locks? Those ones with a full bar you lock into place with a key?” Error asked suddenly.

Ink took in the sight of him. Error looked haunted. Interesting. Ink’s curiosity made him a promise: he would find out everything about Error and his past that he could to satisfy his own curiosity. If he was going to do that, however, he needed to win Error’s trust.

“Yeah! That’s definitely something that could be a trigger,” Ink said, then he went on, “and it’s not like you’d have to know why it was a trigger, either. Sometimes we just have something that’s triggering to us without any explanation. Dream is that way about moles. The little furry animal, I mean. Totally sends him into a panic attack whenever they show up in a nature documentary we’re watching. Blue now likes to pre-screen any movies we’re going to see, just in case. Actually, he pre-screens them for a lot of things. Useless sex scenes, for one.”

Error snorted. Ink blinked at him, feeling an unfamiliar paint combination roll over him. He couldn’t have put a name to it, but there were bits of yellow, pink, and green in there. Yellow was happiness of all sorts, pink was affection or love, and green was the need for something. It could be the need for information, or food, or a plan, or… anything, really.

“Don’t,” Error snorted, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those sex purists who thinks you should only have sex after marriage. That’s so stupid.”

Ink laughed his own unique laugh that couldn’t decide between being a chuckle and a giggle. “No, I just think that those stupid sex scenes take away from the body of the story. Sometimes they’re good, but mostly they’re just put in for horny fans. They don’t even make any sense. People just don’t hop into bed with perfect strangers at the drop of the hat. At least, not any sane people. Not that sanity’s earned its good ratings, mind you.”

“Well that’s true,” Error agreed with distaste. “Sex shouldn’t be some kind of spectacle for anyone to see. I know I wouldn’t want anyone but my lover or lovers to see me like that. I might be the most handsome skeleton in existence, but that doesn’t mean I want to show myself off.”

It was Ink’s turn to snort. “You? Handsome? Your bones are black, Error. Don’t you know that the darker your bones are the less handsome of a skeleton you are?”

Error’s grin was absolutely crazy, and Ink couldn’t help but mirror it. It looked like so much fun! “That’s what they want you to think! After all, so many people are cursed with white bones. They had to come up with some way to boost everyone’s egos. Telling them that white bones are best is a good PR spin! I bet even you believe it about your own bones!”

Ink blinked at him, then slipped out of his overshirt and bared his bones. They were covered in patterns, almost random, that had more black to them than white. “It’s not like my bones are all white, though. I guess that means that, by your definition, I’m ugly, too! Oh well.”

Error’s larger eye light was now almost as wide as his socket. The other one, the grey one, had wandered off. Ink wondered if he could even see out of that eye or if he just had lazy eye. Either way it was disconcerting. “Well… you’re not that ugly. You’re less ugly than all those bleached-boned idiots in the movies. After all, you have some black on there. And the contrast looks… kind of nice, if a bit blurry. D’ya mind taking a step back?”

“Why?” Ink asked, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s none of your business why, chatterbox!” Error screeched, “Just do it!”

Ink sighed. He’d been doing so well with winning Error over, but nothing worth doing was worth doing too fast. He stepped back a few paces. “Alright, Error. Is this good?”

Error was too busy studying Ink’s patterns to answer. Ink studied his expression, committing it to memory. It was so… fascinating… the way he was staring at Ink. The play of light on the black bone of his skull was so enchanting, and the lines of his mouth were inviting in a way Ink couldn’t place. He longed to sketch it. Maybe later, after dinner, although the fire wouldn’t be  the ideal light source. Needs must, though!

=====

Killer grinned as everyone took up their positions around the fire. The small blue skeleton and Dust were already seated, flirting with each other like there was no tomorrow. The artist and Error were arguing, but it involved more words out of Error than Killer had heard the entire time he’d been working for them. Blood and Sugar were sitting as far apart as they could stand, cooking the food and shooting each other longing glances. Cross was sitting at attention next to Dream and shooting him the most adoring looks. Dream seemed just about as oblivious as Nightmare could be. He was staring into space, zoning out. That left Killer to work on Nightmare. Perfect.

“Hey, Boss~” Killer purred as he slid in next to Nightmare, taking one of his tentacles into his hands and slowly massaging it. It was tense as hell. It was pretty obvious who was causing their leader so much stress. His eye light was fixed on Dream like it had been nailed in place.

“Yes, Killer?” Nightmare said distractedly, his eye light not leaving Dream, “What is it?”

Killer brought the tentacle up to his teeth, kissing it. “The tension in your aura is palpable, Boss. You need to relax a bit. Let me lavish you with all the attention you so richly deserve.”

Nightmare turned to face him, his eyebrow raised and his one eye light showing Killer his amusement. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren’t you? What are you trying to do, impress me? You know you already do. Or are you trying to distract me from Cross’ misbehaviour? I can see him over there. He’s acting like a lovestruck teenager.”

So are you, Killer thought to himself, a lovestruck teenager that’s fallen in love with his biggest rival. Out loud he said, “If you want to say that about Cross you have to say that about all of them. Dust is flirting with that small blue one like it’s his favorite hobby, Blood and Sugar are doing their Romeo and Juliet act, and Error is arguing so much with that artist that I wouldn’t be surprised if his voice wasn’t hoarse tomorrow.”

“The small one is called Blue and the artist’s name is Ink,” Nightmare said absently.

Killer blinked at him, then smiled his most winning smile - the one he wore when he was trying not to get caught at something sketchy. “You know, it would probably be a good idea if we introduced everyone before matching people up for the night. Why don’t I get everyone’s attention and you can tell people who they’ll be sleeping with?”

Nightmare tore his eye light off of Dream just long enough to narrow it at Killer. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Fine, then. No knives, though. I know you like to show off, but please, save it for another time.”

Killer saluted with the half-ironic, half-serious form that drove Nightmare crazy. “Got it, Boss!”

Then he turned to the center of the fire everyone was gathered around, raised his hands to his mouth, and hollered, “Heylalo, skellies! Listen up, the boss has something to say!”

Eight heads turned to face him with expressions that varied from annoyance to curiosity to mildly dissociative. Killer frowned slightly. Blood he could understand, but why would Dream be dissociating? Had something happened to him since he and Nightmare parted ways? Or was it just the general absentmindedness of a normal monster? Killer vowed to find out.

Nightmare’s grunt interrupted his thoughts. Killer turned to face his handsome datemate and listened closely to the orders of the night. “Now that I have your attention, I’m going to introduce you all and tell you who you’ll be sleeping with. Remember that these arrangements might change as the trip goes on, so if you can’t handle sleeping with someone please let me know. Blood, Sugar,” He pointed to the two of them in turn, “you’ll be sleeping together in the red tent. Ink, Blue,” Again he pointed to each of them in turn, “You’ll be sleeping in the blue tent. Killer, Dream,” He signaled who each of them was, “you have the yellow tent. Error, Dust, please take the black tent,” He gestured at both of them. “Finally, Cross and myself will take the green tent. My name is Nightmare. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

The boss studied each face in turn, as did Killer. They would compare notes later.

Cross was blushing and averting his eyes from Nightmare’s face. He knew he was in trouble for today, but that didn’t stop him from looking forward to being punished. It never had before.

Blue was looking at Dust with longing and a flushed face. The expression was mutual. Interesting. Maybe they should be paired up in a tent tomorrow night. Dust could use a bit of a chance to unwind.

Ink had clearly lost interest in the conversation. He was looking around at the clearing with his hand twitching in the air. Long strokes, short curves, and forceful jabs would have painted a picture if Ink had only been holding a paintbrush. Killer would have bet any amount of money that he was already planning a drawing or two of their surroundings. Artists were like that.

Blood was eyeing the food with hunger, as usual. After what he had been through it was hardly a surprise. Sugar was beaming at his brother. Only his practiced eye told Killer that he was ready for their night’s more… intimate activities. Hopefully this time they wouldn’t get caught.

Dream was eyeing Killer with something like anxiety, except moreso. It almost looked like fear. It did look exactly like the expression Nightmare had turned on him the first time they’d been asked to share a tent. Huh.

Finally, there was Error. Error, as usual, was grumbling to himself. Killer knew exactly what he was upset about. He hated having to share a tent with anyone. He was always on edge, worried that they were going to bump into him in the night. He knew better by now, though, than to complain. Nightmare had no sympathy for his disgust at the touch of others anymore. No one had ever touched him at night. That wasn’t going to change.

Nightmare nodded when he was satisfied that no one was going to complain. “Good. Now, Blood, please serve out tonight’s food to everyone. It’s time to eat.”

[indestinatus]

The Reunion

(Cairo - chapter 2/4)

chapter 1

The streets were long and broad, carrying illustrious names. They’re macadamed and crowded dwellings were located on both sides, with terraces and decorated gates beside long colorful windows with shutters and intricate tapestries swaying in the wind.

The smell of burning fuel and perfume filled the air, as well as strong spices, coriander, cardamom, cumin, and chili, coming from hidden stalls. Vendors shouted various prices and foreign names, and people were busy buying jewelry, clothes and other goods to pay too much attention to anything.

Faint exotic music could be heard from the distance if you trespassed the main market limits and went deeper into the old streets of the city. Sand covered the cobblestones and the heat hugged your body, worse due to the crowd and limited space.

A woman crossed the market plaza swiftly, a blueish cloth protecting her face from the heat and sand. Her dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and if you looked closer, they were sharp as a knife. She kept her head down as she walked, but her pace was confident and fast.

She'd just took down three men sent by the woman who wanted her dead.

Her name was Sahar.

Loud bells rang from the main chapel, marking three in the afternoon.

It was the 21st of November 2016. Cairo, Egypt.

Ziva David was afraid.

All she could think about was if Tony had seen the message she left on the back of the photo of them in Paris along with Tali's things six months ago.

If he did, he would've already been here. He would've already contacted her. And they would've have one last chance. A chance for her to explain everything, or at least try to.

If he didn't, it was already too late. Since she faked her death in Tel Aviv back in June, everywhere she went, she'd sense she was being watched. Just this week in Cairo, she'd tracked down almost fifteen killers sent by Sahar.

Tonight was her last chance of seeing Tali.

She spent the whole day wiping out the remaining men so that if her family came tonight, they'd had a small hope of safety. Time was running out.

Ziva crossed the street which led to the hotel she was staying. She'd only chosen it because the rooftop was the highest one nearby. Easier for her to take watch, worse for snippers to do their job.

She entered the main hall in a hurry, eager to get to her room. She'd already disposed of the knife but wanted to watch from above if there was any commotion on the streets.

If there was any sign of them.

"Ms. Rainier!" a voice stopped her just in front of the elevator. Oh lech tiz-day-en, what now?

She turned around slowly, the cloth still covering half her face, but the concierge sure saw the deadly haze her eyes carried.

"I-I'm so-sorry, miss, I know you've asked for the utmost disc-cretion," said the short man, sweat covering his forehead, "but there's a gentleman demanding to see you. His name is Jean-Paul. He says he's your husb-band."

Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul Rainier.

"Of course, thank you."

Jean-Paul and Sophie Rainier were the married assassins they portrayed in the undercover operation, a lifetime ago. Ziva always joked with him that if they had another life, perhaps they'd have a chance together. She never knew if he'd remember that.

Apparently, she was wrong.

"Where is he?"

"He's right there, miss. With the stroller."

Ziva turned around. Their eyes met.

It's strange. When someone's very important and you haven't seen them for a long time, as soon as you do it's easier to breathe.

Tony swayed Tali's stroller slowly, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He looked older, more mature. For a moment, they only stared blankly at each other, the world slowing down.

Then Tony looked upwards and sighed heavily, shoulders going down. He looked back at her again, and his eyes were different.

There were tears.

"You sure are difficult to find, sweetcheeks."

Ziva let out a harsh laugh, but her feet couldn't step closer.

Why is that the more you have to say, the harder it is to speak?

"You look tan," she said.

"You look tired," he answered, "almost as if you just came back from the dead."

His eyes looked hurt for a second, "sorry, I had to-"

"Is she-"

"She's sleeping."

Ziva nodded, she didn't know where to start. Even after rehearsing again and again what to say to him, her mind was now blank.

Tony motioned with his head to the elevator, pushing Tali's stroller that way.

Ziva's breath caught in her throat when she saw her daughter sleeping in it. She was sucking her little thumb and holding Kelev tightly.

She was safe. She was cared for. She was loved.

"Yeah, I know," said Tony, "she snores so peacefully, doesn't she? Just like her mother."

Ziva's eyes shot up at that. He was smiling, that boyish DiNozzo smile. Her heart plummeted with the sight.

"You said I snored like a drunken sailor with emphysema."

"Oh, she remembers. Also, you got worse, you used to understand sarcasm in the English language."

They shared a brief laugh when the elevator doors closed, but it didn't last long.

"Sophie Rainier, really?"

"I did not think you would remember."

"I remember everything," his eyes were watching her as if he wouldn't let her leave again. Ziva was looking at Tali.

"I know."

They arrived at her floor and she tried to open the door, but her hands were trembling. Too many meds today.

"Here, let me help," said Tony, grabbing the keys from her hand. His fingers touched hers lightly and her breath caught again. Ziva had dreamed for too long about this moment. Seeing, touching him again. Both of them.

He noticed.

Tony opened her door and let Tali's stroller inside the room. It wasn't big, there was a closet, a bathroom, a double-sized bed and a small suitcase in the corner. The windows, however, were huge, with a beautiful view of the market streets of Cairo below and the pyramids in the distance.

The atmosphere was heavy. Tony gently took Tali out of the stroller and laid her in the bed, putting the duvet over her. She didn't even move, it was like he'd done that many times.

Ziva also wasn't moving. She was as still as a statue, paralyzed with the image of Tony taking care of their daughter. Yes, she'd seen photos of them quite frequently, but she didn't want to think so much about how he would manage to do that.

Now she knew.

It is my job to protect you, Ziva.

Handle with care, contents priceless.

I know you want to change. I can change with you.

He loved Tali just as he loved her all these years.

Ziva kneeled on the floor, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, hands trembling along with her whole body rocking back and forth. Everything was darkness, and she suddenly felt very cold. Her chest hurt as if her heart was ripped from it and shoved back in right after.

Panic attack. Panic attack. Her mind roared.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry," she said again and again.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Hey, it's okay," he answered, whispering softly in her ear as his strong arms held her close to his chest, "we're okay, Ziva. Me and Tali, we're okay, just like you said. Breathe."

Her breathing slowed down after a couple of minutes, his arms still holding her against him, his hand caressing her hair. They were still at the ground.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her chin and lifting her eyes to look at him, "I know you, Ziva. I know you better than you know yourself."

Brown eyes blinked when green ones didn't look away.

"I just need to understand," he said, kissing her temple and still cradling her gently against his chest.

Ziva took a deep breath and let her body relax in his arms. She looked at Tali, sleeping in the bed. She couldn't face him while telling this.

"One day... One day I was ambushed in Israel, Tali was home, and I was in the streets to get her a new crib. Two men attacked me. I managed to bring them down, and learn from one of them they were sent by a woman to kill me. Her name was Sahar. That same day I packed all Tali's things and contacted Adam..."

"Adam? That Adam, the same Adam?"

"Yes, he's helping me. He's the only one who knows about Tali and Sahar."

"He knew about Tali?"

And Tony didn't. Ziva didn't let her own father know.

"He knew once I needed help. He helped me to get Tali to Ori so she could give her to you. You're the only one I trust to keep her safe, Tony."

Ziva could feel his chest go up and down, sense him processing all her mistakes.

"Okay. Go on," was all he said.

"I left a message in the back of a photo of us in Paris. It was all I could do without anyone suspecting that I was still alive."

Tony let out a sharp laugh, "I almost didn't read it in time."

"But you did."

"But I almost-"

"Tony," she said, looking up to him again. His eyes were troubled as if losing her was worse than betrayal, "they still follow me, wherever I go. She wants me dead. She's watching me like an eagle."

"Hawk."

"What?"

"Nothing," he appeared amused.

"Tali... Tali can't stay with me. She needs you. And before you ask, you cannot. You cannot help me, she needs at least one of her parents..."

"Alive."

"Yes."

Tony sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you come to me when you found out about her? Why didn't..."

"I didn't deserve you, Tony. And you deserved more than a broken woman with a horrible past and a difficult future. I was terrified you were going to be furious and time passed and everything turned more complicated and...

"Ziva...," he said, one hand moving to hold her face and his eyes closing, chest heaving several times, "Ziva, if I knew you were pregnant, I would've been there in a second."

She let her forehead rest on his, eyes closing as well. Silent tears ran down her cheeks again, as she started to think about all that didn't come to pass.

"Tony, I-"

"Abba...?"

Ziva's body tensed again.

"It's okay, sweetcheeks, come here. Someone wants to see you."

Sweetcheeks. The term of endearment he used with her was the same he used with his daughter. Their daughter. It was like a hard slap in the face.

Tali hopped to the ground, still holding Kelev. Ziva gaped at her silently, not daring to breathe. She didn't know if she'd recognize her.

Tali drew closer, her little fingers going up to Ziva's face. She traced her nose, cheeks and mouth, going down to her hair and her bare neck. The necklace she used to grasp as a baby was not there.

Tali pulled something from inside her shirt and squeezed, then framed Ziva's face again. The Star of David. Tony gave it to her, Ziva's necklace. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"Ima...?"

Ziva let out the breath she was holding and wiped her tears swiftly.

"Yes, Tali, it's me. It's Ima."

"Ima!" she said, arms gripping Ziva's neck, demanding to be pulled to her chest.

"Oh, mon Coeur," her mother answered, kissing her hair, nose, cheeks, everywhere she could. She missed her so much, too much.

Strong arms embraced both of them, and Tony kissed Ziva's hair.

"Zee?"

"Hum?"

"How much time do we have?"

Ziva sighed, brought back to reality, "Tonight. And maybe tomorrow morning."

To be a family. A few hours to finally be a family, was all they had.

"Are you going to the opera?"

"Yes."

"Can we come with you?"

Ziva kissed Tali once more as she giggled sweetly in her arms.

"Yes."

Tony smiled as a weight lifted off his shoulders. She'd let him in. She'd finally let him in. He had both of them for the first time. He had the love of his life and the proof of their love in his arms, if only for a moment. He had a family.

"Then it's a date."

chapter 3

[siramay-the-showgun-dragon]

So have you read Killer Killer then? She basically had a version of the Darth Vader scene from Rogue One, except instead of rebels it was the students of her old middle shcool. Mukuro, killing them that is. Junko thought she went too far even, and Mukuro blushed at her saying that. And the two survivors each independently became the Sparkling Justice serial killer from Goodbye Despair, neither having any idea the other was also operating as the same serial killer for like two years.

in the words of siramay drakos the showgun dragon king of villains siramay: I DON'T CARE! siramay belts surprising mukuro i don't care if you killed 10, 100, 1000 i don't care if you killed an entire continent's worth of blind orphans! if you love being evil then i will still love you in return, if you wanna be good do good and i'll love you, if you wanna be evil destroy the world and i'll still be by your side loving you every step of the way if you love doing it then continue to do it! all i ask mukuro is that you love me while you do it- siramay drakos you did know siramay is a villain king yes?  [TIGA] siramay is a king of villains A fact known only to his intimates traveling to worlds to help villains in need and benefits from others dimensions [SIRAMAY] Nevermind about that now! tosses tiga across the room (woo!) It doesn't matter I don't give a man Just as a duck is made to swim in water God has made me as I am All I care for is musicals and villains And there's no dishonor in that As long as there's depravity and soundtracks I'll keep a feather in my hat! now for the romance song mukuro: how can you say such things? you don't make any sense!

siramay: neither does your sister but you still love her all the same! all i need is your love just like how all you need is love in return!

[SIRAMAY, spoken] All you need is love

[MUKURO, spoken] You're being ridiculous

[SIRAMAY, spoken] All you need is love [sung] Just one night, give me just one night

[MUKURO] There's no way cause you can't pay

[SIRAMAY] In the name of love, one night in the name of love

[MUKURO] You crazy fool, I won't give in to you

[SIRAMAY] It's so easy, all you have to do is fall in love

[MUKURO] Love hurts

[SIRAMAY] All you have to do is play the game

[MUKURO] Love scars

[SIRAMAY] All you have to do is Take on me

[MUKURO] No, no, no, it ain't me

[SIRAMAY] Take me on

[MUKURO] No, no, no because you'll be gone in a day or two

as mukuro tried to turn and deny him he moved in front of her with loose free movements

[SIRAMAY] I love you, always, forever Near or far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you

[MUKURO] Love is a battlefield

[SIRAMAY] Everything I will do for you

but mukuro raised her hand to stop siramay from singing

[MUKURO] Don't speak I know just what you're thinking So please stop explaining Don't tell me cause it hurts

but instead siramay started to bop to a musical beat as he danced around mukro

[SIRAMAY] Open up your eyes, then you'll realize Here I stand with my everlasting love Need you by my side, girl, you'll be my pride You'll never be denied, everlasting love

but mukuro stopped his singing dead in its tracks though his body did still bop around a little

[MUKURO] What's love got to do, got to do with it? What's love, but, a secondhand emotion? What's love got to do, got to do with it? Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?

siramay then spun around as he rested his arm around her shoulders

[Siramay] You're breaking my heart S'pose I never, ever met you

[MUKURO] What's love got to do with it?

[SIRAMAY] Suppose we never fell in love

[MUKURO] Who needs a heart?

[SIRAMAY] Suppose I kept on singing love songs

[MUKURO] All of this music breaks my heart

[BOTH] Yes, it breaks my heart Yes it breaks my heart

then siramay got in front of her as he got down on his knee and looked up at her with eyes so big filled with noting but love and hope for her

[SIRAMAY] I can't help falling in love with you

it griped at mukuros heart as she was still unsure what to do but was losing the fight with her emotions

[MUKURO] I'm all out of faith This is how I feel I'm cold and I'm ashamed lying naked on the floor

[SIRAMAY] Take me on

[MUKURO] Illusion never changed into something real I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn

siramay got up as he stood strait looking at mukuro with determined eyes

[SIRAMAY] They will see us coming from such great heights "Come down now", they'll say

[BOTH] Everything looks perfect from far away "Come down now", but we'll stay

then siramay jumped on top of the tables in the room lifting his arms in victory as a cacophony of colors played on all the  screens

[SIRAMAY] Cause, love lifts us up where we belong Where the eagles fly on a mountain high

[BOTH] Love makes us act like we are fools Throw our lives away for one happy day

then siramay reached out his arm to mukuro

[SIRAMAY] We can be heroes, just for one day

mukuro was unsure but she knew deep down what she wanted to do

[MUKURO] Though nothing can keep us together

as siramay looked back at her still stretching out his hand with eyes full of determination

[SIRAMAY] We can steal time, just for one day

then mukuro took siramays hands in hers as they looked at eachother's eyes

[BOTH] We can be heroes forever and ever We can be lovers just for one day We can be heroes forever and ever We can be lovers just for one day

[SIRAMAY] And you can tell everybody

[BOTH] This is your song It may be quite simple but, now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words

[SIRAMAY] We can be heroes

[MUKURO] How wonderful life is

[SIRAMAY] We can be heroes

[MUKURO] How wonderful life is

[SIRAMAY] We can be heroes

[MUKURO] How wonderful life is

[BOTH] While you're in the world I will always love you! And I will always love you! And I will always LOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!

[chemicalmagecraft]

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter12

A/N: Thank you BlindSwordsmanNaru and Ultimate Pervy Sage for answering my question.

xoxoxo

I trembled with excitement. We were boarding a bus that would take us to an off-campus facility designed to train us in rescue scenarios. Sure, the combat training was pretty cool, but the first time I ever saw All Might, what made me really want to be a hero, was a video of his debut, which was a rescue operation where he single-handedly saved one hundred people. And here we were going to learn how to do that! Why wouldn't I be excited? Plus I was wearing my hero costume again! "Everyone please gather in two single file lines!" Iida said. He was really taking his duty as class rep seriously. Though I suppose that is why I made his class rep... We got on the bus, which, it seemed, wasn't exactly the kind that Iida was expecting when he made us form lines.

"I like being straightforward and saying what comes to mind," Asui, who was sitting next to me, said. "Midoriya."

"Yes, Asui?"

"Call me Tsu," she corrected. "I'm going to be blunt. Your Limit Break power reminds me of All Might."

"Yeah, that's right!" Kirishima said. "It's super manly!"

I gulped. She was really perceptive, wasn't she? Luckily, I'd prepared an explanation for it that didn't involve One For All. "It might look like it, but I think it works differently from All Might's Quirk," I lied. "I call it Limit Break, but really it's just me using a skill I got for getting all of my stats above fifty."

"So your Quirk gives you special powers for increasing your stats?" Tsu asked.

"Y-yeah. I only got one skill for each individual stat, but they each made the stat I got them from work better, I guess is a good way to say it. And the WIS skill was what gave me access to all four elements."

Tsu nodded. "Sounds useful. How does Limit Break work, exactly?"

I winced internally. It looked like I couldn't just distract her away... "It isn't exactly like the traditional video game limit break, but I wanted to keep with the video game theme because my Quirk gave it to me. The way it works is that I have a second MP bar that just... doesn't have an upper limit. That's not to say that I have infinite power, but whenever my actual MP bar is full, the second bar stockpiles MP for later use. I can't use the second bar to fully power any skill, but I can use it for part of the cost. What makes it really powerful, though, is that I can use it to power up not just skills but STR and DEX too. Of course, the reason I don't use it all the time is that there's some backlash from using it." I put my hand my head. "Of course, my Quirk makes damage just a number, but I don't really want to find out what happens if my HP reaches zero..."

"I think it's pretty awesome!" Kirishima said. "It's super flashy too, unlike my Hardening." He demonstrated his Quirk by hardening his arm.

"I think your Quirk is awesome too," I said. "It's the sort of Quirk that could be really useful in pro hero work."

"Yeah," he sighed, "but I'm not that sure I'll be too popular... You've gotta factor in how cool it looks in the pro hero biz."

"My Quirk is pro-level in strength and flashiness!" Aoyama offered.

"Yeah," Mina said, "but it also gives you killer stomach aches..."

"Oui..." he sighed.

"If you're talking about flashiness and strength, the kings of that in 1-A have to be Todoroki and Bakugou," Tsu added. Kacchan perked up a bit on hearing his name.

"If I had to pick one of those two for a popularity contest, though, I'd have to pick Bakugou," Uraraka said. "They're both pretty standoffish at first, but if you get past that Bakugou's kind of a nice guy."

Kacchan blushed a little and turned to face the window. Pyra appeared next to him and said, "That's 'Kacchan' for thank you."

"SHUT UP!" Kacchan yelled at Pyra. "And how the hell are you physical? I didn't summon you!"

"Speaking of elementals," Tokoyami said with a slight grin. "Would you like to see mine, Midoriya?"

I smiled. "Of course!"

From Tokoyami's cloak a dark haze emerged, taking the form of a young boy in black, bird-themed armor, a basic elemental. It looked like he had a sword and shield behind his wing-shaped cloak. His eyes were red, with black sclera. "My name is Corvo," he said.

"My elemental is a dark knight," Tokoyami said proudly. Corvo demonstrated his power by radiating some darkness despite physics saying that that was impossible.

"Hey, I got an elemental too!" Uraraka exclaimed. A purple-and-blue glow formed from the air next to her, condensing from gravity itself to form a young girl. Much like Blaise, her skin was midnight-black, but she also had sky-blue patches on her cheeks. Her eyes, or at least what I think were her eyes, were a solid yellow. Her blue hair, pulled vaguely into pigtails, was nebulous and glittered with stars. She wore a simple purple dress with a crescent moon on the center.

"Hi," she muttered. I didn't see it much but I think her tongue was also yellow...

"Her name's Nebula," Uraraka offered. "She's a little shy. I'd show you guys what she can do, but we're in a bus and I'd rather not flip us over or destroy the suspension..."

Iida nodded. "A wise decision. Perhaps she'll get her time to shine at the training facility. I certainly heard a lot from my brother on how useful gravity manipulation could be after I told him about your Quirk. By the way, you might receive an internship offer from Team Idaten sometime in the near future."

"I also made an elemental!" exclaimed Hagakure. A light shined from her invisible hands, and from that light came a girl in a silver-colored sundress. Her hair and the fur on her foxlike ears and tail were the same silver color. The only thing on her that wasn't silver was her white, fluffy scarf. "Isn't she cute?" Hagakure asked.

"Hi, everyone!" the elemental exclaimed with a blinding smile. "My name's Lucy!"

"Man, I wish I had an elemental," Tsu said. "Even without the whole 'manipulating the elements' bit, you guys have friends that you can summon at any time."

I Observed her. "Actually, Tsu, it looks like you have water affinity, which means you should be able to summon a water elemental."

"Oh. Cool. Thanks, Midoriya."

"We're here," Aizawa said, then the bus stopped. "Everyone out."

Outside of the bus, a person in what looked like a marshmallowy space suit was waiting for us. "I'm glad you're all here," they said. "I can't wait to show you my facility."

"Ohmigoshit'sThirteen!" Uraraka shouted, stars in her eyes. "They're one of my favorite heroes!"

"Thanks! Uraraka, right?"

"THIRTEEN KNOWS MY NAME!" She started searching herself for something. "Oh man I wish I had something for you to sign and a pen to sign it on!"

"Um... isn't it a little rude to ask someone for an autograph when you've just met?" Nebula asked quietly.

"Thank you for your concern, random small child that I've been told is actually some sort of elemental spirit, but I actually really like meeting fans. If you find something to sign, I'd love to sign it for you."

I pulled a piece of cardstock paper and a pen out of my inventory. "Don't worry, Uraraka, I made sure to put multiple sixty-four stacks of multiple different kinds of paper in my inventory just in case someone needed paper. Or to eject at villains like a poorly-managed sylladex."

Uraraka gladly took the paper and pen from me. "You're a literal angel, Deku! I'll make sure to make it up to you somehow." She gleefully got Thirteen to sign it, but then just stared at it. "Crud, what am I going to do with this?"

"I can hold on to it for you," I offered.

"Great," Aizawa-sensei said dully. "Glad that we got that sorted out. Now unless anyone else wants an autograph, let's go inside.

xoxoxo

"I designed this facility to simulate several disasters heroes might need to help out in," Thirteen said as they showed us the various disaster areas of the facility. "I call it the 'Unforeseen Simulations Joint.'"

"So it's Universal Studios Japan?" multiple members of the class muttered at once.

"No, that was not at all a factor in the naming," Thirteen said in a flat tone that made me feel like they weren't telling the truth. "In fact I only learned of the existence of that place after I named it." Oh look at that, Observe implied that they were lying.

"Thirteen, where's All Might?" Aizawa-sensei asked. "Did he forget about this and schedule an interview or something?"

"Oh, uhhh... I need to speak to you about something over here," Thirteen said. They took him out of earshot of us and said something that involved them holding up three fingers. I heard a few small pops to the tune of Shave and a Haircut, the sign Kacchan came up with to ask me to invite him to party.

Kacchan: dumbass used up his time for the day didnt he

Kacchan: and stop changing my name to kacchan deku

He wasted no time in PMing me.

Deku: Hey, I set my name to Deku, didn't I?

Deku: And yeah that's probably what happened. I saw something about him stopping some villains on his way to work.

Kacchan: shouldnt he be getting better? youve been using your healing spell on him every fucking day

Thirteen started giving a cool speech about their Quirk, Black Hole, and how Quirks could be very dangerous if misused. It was nice, but I also had to focus on PMing Kacchan.

Deku: It's not that simple. For one thing, Healing Hands isn't that strong, all things considered. Yes, it's a very good spell, but I'm pretty sure that I'd still have trouble healing anything much worse than a light fracture.

Deku: Second, All Might's time went down a lot after giving me his Quirk. I think he's still stockpiling MP, but it seems he's doing it less. Eventually, even if I make him be in even better condition than before AFO, I think he's still going to run out of power.

The BGM shut off, as did the USJ's lights. I noticed some sort of black mist coming from the fountain in the center of the facility, and it seemed I wasn't the only one. A man with powder blue hair and disembodied hands clamped all over his body emerged from the mist, followed by a crowd of other people.

Death on Two Legs

LV 61

Shigaraki Tomura

At level twenty-three, he was thirty-eight levels higher than me. And over the mist, there was another title.

Purple Haze

LV 57

Watanabe Kurogiri

"Hey, I didn't think we were starting already," Kirishima said. "Who are those guys anyway?" The BGM came back, but... that wasn't feel-good field trip training music. That was ominous music.

"Everyone get back," Aizawa-sensei barked.

"I don't recognize all of their names," I said, "but a lot of them are actual villains." I was especially worried by the giant, black-skinned, bird-looking man with an exposed brain standing next to Shigaraki.

?

LV?

Nomu

There was just something... off... about him. And I couldn't Observe him, which was offputting considering how the only other people that applied to were high-ranking pro heroes.

"I see Thirteen and Erasor Head," I think it was that Watanabe guy that the deep voice was coming from. "Odd. All Might should be here."

"Aw, and I brought a whole raid party for him," Shigaraki complained. "Let's hope he comes out when the kids start dying."

Aizawa's capture scarf unfurled. "Thirteen, protect the students and contact the main campus."

"It seems one of them has a Quirk that is blocking the sensors," Todoroki said. "With how prepared they are, I doubt we'll just be able to call for help."

"Good catch, Todoroki. Kaminari and Midoriya, you two have powers or equipment that can be used to contact others. Use them. I'll hold them off."

"But how?" I asked. "Your Quirk is best used in ambush or one-on-one fights."

"A hero can't just glide by doing what their Quirk is best at." With that bit of wisdom, he was off. He took out three long-range-type Quirk users before they even realized what had happened. I instantly became a lot less worried for him and joined my classmates in running like hell.

"You're not going anywhere," Watanabe said as he rose from the floor. Or a portal on the floor, according to Fuckery Detection. "We are the League of Villains," he monologued. "Pardon the imposition, but we have come to murder the symbol of peace." His misty body spread out. "I hope you don't mind too terribly."

"LIKE HELL WE DON'T!" Kacchan screamed as he and Kirishima charged Watanabe. Smoke from an explosion clouded them from our sight.

"A commendable effort," Watanabe said as the smoke cleared, revealing him to be relatively unharmed, "but if you persist in your endeavors, I fear you'll both wind up dead."

"Get back, you two!" Thirteen yelled.

A chuckle emanated from Watanabe's body. "Don't worry, Thirteen. You won't have to worry about that soon enough. After all, my job in this operation is to scatter you all to the four winds!" With that, he exploded into a thick purple haze that engulfed us all. After a few moments of disorientation and a sudden change to my minimap, I found myself in the air over what looked like a lake.

"Ah, crud."

xoxoxo

A/N: I know Corviknight isn't dark- or ghost-type, but it honestly fit Tokoyami better than anything else I could think of (including Murkrow) and I really like the idea of a corvid-themed dark knight. And the reason why I wanted to know whether Uraraka would play Sun or Moon, by the way, was to decide whether Nebula would eventually "evolve" into Solgaleo or Lunala. The answer is Lunala, as seen by Nebula's dress having the Derse crescent moon. And finally, Hagakure got a shiny Eevee. But what will this Eevee evolve into? That's for me to know and you to find out.

Oh and by the way, I don't suppose you guys could suggest any hundred-stat skills? Spoiler alert, but Izuku may or may not finally be dropping some Skill Points and I only have like a few that I've thought of. That would be very much appreciated.

[evanismfic]

half  - agony. chapter one.

              第一章  .                                          BACOPA  (  假馬齒莧  )

summary: when you last set foot inside the palace seven years ago, your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces. now, after the dowager empress’s death, you find that you still cannot even dare to hope.

pairing: yanjun x f!reader

genre: historical, royals au

word count: 6855

a/n: please expect a lot of artistic license in terms of historical accuracy and medicine i am neither a doctor nor an expert on the song dynasty :’)

                     [ prev. ] | [ 2. ]

     YOU HAD ALL THE MAKINGS of a rags-to-riches story.

     Born a month and a day before the summer solstice, the town shaman told your father –– a man of science who made this augury his one exception –– that you would bring great change. As you grew older, her prediction became less and less likely. Your father once muttered that he should’ve known better than to put stock in “that hogwash.”

     Your family was poor, relying on both your parents to make ends meet. Your mother died not long after you were born, leaving you in the care of your father. He was well-meaning but lacked the emotional competence to navigate raising a child, precocious as you were, alone. More instructional than nurturing, you grew to maturity spending half of your life helping him in his shop. Your father was confident that you would follow in his footsteps and become a healer. That was his anchor.

     You spent the other half of your childhood frolicking by the stream on the outskirts of town. In those nearby woods dwelled the boy you loved. You first met him when you were but four years old, washing bloodied linens from an operation the day before. He peered at you from between the trees. When you first noticed him, he fled.

     There are a great many places where your life would’ve been better had things just ended there. This was one of them.

     But the boy came back a week later.

     Bolder, he came to a stop beside you and asked what you were doing. Your father told you once never to speak to strangers. He also saw no problem, however, allowing a small child to travel all the way across town to do laundry, so you can somewhat blame him for your lack of prudence. You can still remember the boy –– “Yanjun,” he introduced himself, chest puffed outward in pride –– and his tone. Painfully posh, he didn’t hold a lick of the drawl you became accustomed to from your small town. He spoke like the people from the capital, and you were instantly entranced. You had never met a child from Lin’an before. You decided you liked Yanjun very much. If your father noticed that you stayed out longer to play with the boy by the river, he never commented on it. After all, he was just a child. It took you six years to find out who Yanjun really was.

     Given that he only spent summers in the so-named palace –– a sprawling villa on the hill that overlooked your hometown –– you hadn’t really known him for all that long. For roughly three months of every year, the two of you (Yanjun, mostly) would get in as much trouble as you possibly could. From playing in the river to snatching low-hanging apples from a nearby (privately owned) orchard, the two of you were nearly inseparable. On the days where Yanjun didn’t come to play, you were miserable. And it wasn’t until your tenth year that you learned just why he was sometimes nowhere to be found.

     It had been twenty-four days since you two last met before your father was summoned to the Summer Palace. He brought you along on a whim, not knowing how long he would be gone and reluctant to leave you in the care of your gossipy neighbors. He did not expect your gasp of recognition when you laid eyes on the frightfully pale Crown Prince lying in his bed. His younger brother Chaoze sat by his side and shook him awake. When your eyes met, you felt your stomach drop.

     You had spent your summers for the past six years befriending the future Emperor. And his illness, a cold from too many hours spent in the stream, was your fault. Perhaps this was when his mother started to hate you.

     You thought that compromising his health would have you forbidden from ever seeing him again, but he sought you out the moment he recovered. He told you that he never meant to lie to you –– and he didn’t, really, only by omission –– and that nothing had changed. “I hope we can still be friends,” Yanjun said, earnestly taking your hand.

     But things had changed, although you couldn’t be sure if it was for better or for worse.

     When puberty hit, things only got more confusing.

     In your current opinion, at all of twenty-five years old, it’s when everything started to go downhill.

     You always liked Yanjun. He was funny, smart, and cultured. He would tell you about Lin’an and, after you discovered his identity, he would relay funny anecdotes about his tutors and the goings on of the Imperial Court. As he got older and his voice deepened, he suddenly became more interesting to listen to. And while Yanjun had always been good looking, he was especially handsome when the baby fat left his face and granted him those killer cheekbones portraits still fail to replicate. In a year, you had begun staring at his plump lips more and more.

     You didn’t miss the way he’d been looking at you too.

     He first held your hand when you were thirteen, shyly brushing his thumb across your knuckles, and you pressed your lips to his cheek in return. He kissed you on the lips at fifteen, and you told him that you loved him the next year. At eighteen, his father died, and you held him in your arms as he cried. A week later, his mother declared that Yanjun needed to marry in order to inherit the throne, and he asked you to come back with him to Lin’an.

      Saying yes was one of the worst decisions you ever made.

      Somehow, you’re back here seven years later, staring at the palace gates as your luggage is wheeled in behind you. Your father had succumbed to cancer just as spring began to wane into summer, so you have nothing keeping you in Changqi. Not long after his death, you received a letter with the imperial seal requesting that you take on the now vacant role of the royal doctor, as well as requesting that you work on a cure for one of the nation’s deadliest plagues. Imperial patronage was a stunning offer few could even dare to deny. But you still have to wonder why you would return when you had tried so hard to run away after a short five months within the palace walls.

     The answer is rather simple: because Yanjun asked you to.

     On a broader scale, it was easier to provide excuses. No one in their right mind refuses the Emperor. There is a vacancy in the staff. The Court is in need of a healer, and you earned yourself quite the reputation for your innovative herbal remedies. Only the best of the best can serve the Emperor, and you more than enough deserve that title. It has nothing to do with the fact that Yanjun once loved you and that you loved him just as much.

     That time is long gone, and nothing displays that more than how much the palace has changed since you left it.

     It’s certainly livelier, more colorful than it was when you departed. Having come when it was in a period of mourning, though, that is to be expected. Observing servants as they move pots and crates around, you presume Yanjun is doing a bit of remodeling as well. It’s a bold choice for an emperor whose nation is currently at war.

     “There’s no view quite as magnificent is there?” Honglin, the page sent to fetch and safely deliver you to the palace, hands the reigns of his steed over to a stable boy. The fortnight of travel didn’t afford you an extraordinarily close friendship with the young man, but he was currently the only friend you had in Lin’an. You know that he is mixed, his father being a Jurchen defector and his mother a Han woman. Honglin is incredibly proud of his heritage, bearing a zealousness you find endearing. That’s about all that you know about him. “I came here with my father when I was seven and I’m still in awe every time I return.”

     You don’t have the heart to tell him that you have very few memories of the palace to look fondly upon. You smile instead. “Indeed. It’s a testament to our great nation.”

      Honglin seems pleased by your response. He gestures toward the Western Wing, which houses most of the residences of the staff. You’re surprised that your brain has retained that information, considering how you tried to forget everything that you could. “I’ll direct you to your rooms, let you get settled in before I bring you to meet His Majesty. Would you like me to do anything with your supplies?”

      “No,” you say, shaking your head and following Honglin as he starts down the palace’s winding halls. “Just leave them in their crates in the infirmary. I’ll organize them myself tomorrow.”

      “As you wish.”

     Honglin deposits you in front of a bedchamber only marginally smaller than the one from nearly a decade ago. How interesting it is that the quarters of the presumed future empress were roughly the same size as the royal healer’s –– or, rather, how interesting it was that the Dowager Empress thought to give her successor such lackluster accommodations. Both rooms are just as lifeless and empty. Only a desk, a table with which you could receive visitors and dine, a bed, and one of the trunks containing your clothing served as furnishing. They couldn’t even afford you a wardrobe. Honglin chirps that he’ll be around and that you only need to holler for him to come running. He leaves you to decompress, and you collapse on your bed the moment he shuts the doors behind him.

     You don’t plan to lay there longer than twenty minutes, but you’re exhausted. You know that coming to Lin’an was for a good cause. Aside from the honor of being the royal family’s sole physician, imperial support allowed your research to flourish. The royal summons didn’t mention how much of it Yanjun was willing to finance, only that he would give as much as it took to eradicate tianxing illness. You also knew that anything was better than your lack of funds back at home.

     You wonder if the ladies of the court are still here. At least one of your tormentors is gone. Though you feel terrible for being relieved that the Dowager Empress is dead, you still find yourself consoled by the fact that you don’t have to deal with her. You’re terrible, and you have to force yourself to fight the instinct. Horrible to you she might have been, she was still Yanjun’s mother and is apparently the current reason you are employed by the court. Your hopes that the volatile atmosphere of the palace had vanished were dashed by the rumor that your predecessor killed himself for failing to cure the Dowager Empress of her ailment. Is Yanjun really that foul-tempered now? Perhaps this is what his mother was trying to save you from.

     “This is no place for a commoner,” she had said when Yanjun first announced his intention to take you to wife. You wanted to protest at first. You loved Yanjun and Yanjun loved you ––  surely such a fairytale romance would triumph over all else, wouldn’t it? You weren’t in control of the circumstances of your birth. It wasn’t like you chose to be born beneath Yanjun’s station. You were naïve to think that the strength of your character would prove you worthy of the role of empress, particularly because you weren’t as strong as you thought.

     You could stand ridicule from one person. Yanjun, young and headstrong, had a rebellious streak that reinforced his insistence that you disregard his mother’s protests, that you two were soulmates and nothing could come between that. However, you weren’t prepared for the near-ubiquitous vitriol and abuse sent your way. You expected jealousy. You weren’t a fool. The Crown Prince was going to be sought after no matter who he was. To marry the future emperor was the easiest way to secure one’s future. In some respects, you could understand the utter incredulity that a random girl from the country managed to snatch Yanjun away from the noblewomen who knew him all their lives. That didn’t justify their cruel words, though. Of how you didn’t belong, of how Yanjun deserved someone of higher status who wouldn’t pollute the royal bloodline. Of how he was making a terrible mistake by choosing you and how he would come to regret this decision for the rest of his life. Of how you would be an unfit mother to his children, passing on both stupidity and inferiority to his heirs.

     You thought yourself a strong girl. But there was only so much even the strongest could take.

     At least now, you’re not a threat. You don’t mean anything to Yanjun anymore. They have no reason to snap at you, broad as his harem is.

     You spend so long in your miserable reminiscence that you don’t realize how much time has passed. Honglin has to knock on your door and snap you out of your self-pity. “Just a moment!” you shout, scrambling to your trunk and throwing on your nicest gown. You comb your hair as quickly as you can and hope that minimal makeup will be enough. Honglin smiles and tells you that you look nice when you open the door. You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow when he offers his arm, taking a deep breath.

     Chuckling, Honglin begins to guide you toward the Great Hall. “You don’t need to look so nervous,” he tells you, patting your hand gently. “His Majesty isn’t going to rip your head off for being late. His meeting with the Ministers of Defense ran a little long, so I doubt he’s noticed anyway. Between them and the men of the Inner Court, I’d be surprised if he actually gets a word in beyond granting or denying their absurd requests.”

     “Is he really so busy?”

      “Oh, of course. The nation is on the brink of war at all times, miss, no matter what harebrained but effective schemes General Cai has up his sleeve. Invasion is a constant possibility. The Jurchens simply refuse to let up.”

      You pretend to know what he’s talking about. “Right.”

     “Well, whatever the case, I’m glad we have Yanjun leading us. With him, I feel as though victory is just around the corner.”

     “I see,” you murmur. You hadn’t thought much of public opinion on the current administration. Politics were less your forte. You simply followed your moral compass, bureaucracy be damned. Honglin might be a little biased, but you still find yourself fascinated by the open admiration in his tone. It seems Yanjun is the great leader you always thought he’d be, bringing to life the praise you’d whisper to him late at night as he laid his head in your lap and voiced his doubts. “You think very highly of him.”

     “He deserves it.” Those three words settle the matter.

     After what seems like an eternity navigating the palace’s endless corridors, Honglin stops in front of the large crimson doors of the Great Hall. Covered in gold decorations, it’s even more ornate than you remember. The phoenixes and floral imagery are new, somewhat clashing with the preexisting spiraling dragons and flamboyant clouds. Somehow, though, the doors seem smaller than you remember them last. Perhaps you’re no longer as intimidated by them and the secrets they hold. You know what type of vipers dwell within. There’s only the one on the dais that you’re still apprehensive of. There is still the slight chance that Yanjun is still as harmless as a garter snake. In your infinite maturity, though, you know better than to hope.

     “Are you ready?” Honglin asks. You don’t give yourself room to hesitate. At your nod, he smiles encouragingly and pushes the great doors open. Voice booming, he calls out your presence. “This humble servant presents the new imperial healer to His Majesty the Emperor, Son of Heaven and Ruler of the Earth, He of Ten Thousand Years.” Bent at the waist, he shuffles forward. You follow him, head bowed and hands folded in your sleeves.

     Yanjun says your name when he tells you to rise. As you obey, you force yourself to suppress a shudder. If even such a short vocalization can send shivers down your spine, you can’t imagine what a full sentence will be like. “Look at us,” Yanjun says. A rustle of silk indicates he beckoned you with a finger. You raise your head to fully look at Yanjun –– Emperor Qiànzо̄ng, you remind yourself –– for the first time in seven years.

     He’s just as beautiful as he was back then. No longer boyish, he’s replaced that youthful charm with a regal and dignified demeanor. His hair is longer and spills over his shoulders, flesh paler presumably from years indoors. He waves at you almost teasingly, fingers still slim and pretty. It’s a wonder he can still move with the heaps of fabric atop him. He’s always been scrawny, but you see that he’s filled out his robes. The rich silks are adorned with golden embroidery depicting his family crest, the Phoenix –– so, it was his addition to the doors after all –– along with, you notice on his sleeves, tangerine and citrus trees. To reflect the flourishing growth brought about by his reign, you suppose. He truly is an emperor now.

     “It’s good to have you back,” Yanjun says. For all the refinement in his dress, he still slouches a little, shoulders raised as he cants a hip to the side –– the way he used to when the two of you were still kids. He’s twenty-five now. Handsome as ever. Voice still rich and soft and tender when addressing you. One would think that his father-in-law isn’t standing less than a foot from him. For all your avoidance of all things imperial, you can remember the beady eyes of Lady Pingting’s father easily. The emperor’s Right Hand eyes you with obvious distaste, sleeve already raised to his mouth as if he is mere seconds away from whispering disparaging comments about you into Yanjun’s ear. You have no doubt that he will as soon as you are out of sight. Seven years have brought very little change to Lin’an.

     In the wake of your silence, the emperor looks at you expectantly. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t the little boy who used to fish your ribbons out of the river for you, who would stand on his tiptoes to pick the ripest fruits to share. You doubt he is still the same man that you loved. He is a man of power, now. He is atop the world’s finest nation. He is expected to lead it in war, to reclaim the lost North. “This humble servant thanks the crown,” you tell him, lowering yourself to your knees. Gripping the insides of your sleeves so tightly you dig crescents into the fabric, you bow once more and press your forehead into the velvet carpet so hard you think it may leave marks. “It is an honor to serve the great Dragon Emperor.” When you dare to meet Yanjun’s eyes, his mouth is drawn into a tight line. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.

     For a long, tense minute, neither of you speak. Honglin looks nervous on your behalf

      Yanjun’s gaze switches to something akin to… disappointment. Something else you can’t name flutters in your stomach. You’ve felt it before when looking at him, you just refuse to acknowledge it as affection. You like Yanjun. But you don’t love him anymore. You can’t. So, while you can care and fret over why he seems disappointed in you, you are not allowed to bend over backward to try and please him. That’s not your job anymore, assuming it ever was.

     The emperor clears his throat, snapping you back into reality. “How do you feel, coming back to the capital after all this time?” He pauses. “We’re sure you must’ve had some reservations, clean and… succinct as your parting was.”

     If you were more naïve, you might dare to presume that there’s a hint of regret in his tone. Yanjun as a prince was sentimental. Soft. As an emperor, he is not allowed to have such unnecessary inclinations. And you, though not quite the commoner girl you once were, are still light years beneath him. You are a healer, not the daughter of a nobleman or a foreign princess or his empress. You have a place –– one that is not with him. “Not at all,” you say, feigning ignorance to the way he leans forward in interest. “Whatever my previous feelings for the palace were, I have grown in the past seven years. And I would be foolish to disregard a royal summons. I thank Your Majesty for your generous offer. I know that with imperial support, I will be able to complete my research and create a better standard of living for our people. Improving the health of our citizens is my greatest priority and I am grateful that Your Majesty has deigned to allot such a great sum to such a wonderful cause.”

     You’re suddenly made aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes on you. Though the throne beside Yanjun is empty, his many advisors are all around him, among other members of his staff like scribes and entertainers. To say nothing, as well, of the diplomats and bureaucrats from afar. How many of them know who you are and what you once meant to him? How many are willing to use that and this lackluster reception against you?

     Yanjun blinks. “We… see.” He opens his mouth to speak further, but his Right Hand cuts him off as the old man lunges forward to whisper in his ear. Nodding, Yanjun waves him back with an arm. “We are terribly sorry to curtail this… long-awaited reunion, but we have some business to take care of.” Glancing at Honglin, Yanjun dips his head. “If you would be so kind as to escort the lady healer back to her quarters. General Zhu and his retinue will be here shortly.”

     And just like that, you are dismissed and his attention is elsewhere. You and Honglin bow before you depart, but Yanjun hardly seems to notice as he unfurls a scroll in his lap and listens to the rambling of his ministers. It’s probably for the best.

     When the doors of the Great Hall shut behind him completely, Honglin throws you a smile. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it? He’s still fond of you!” It seems he does remember you were betrothed to the emperor. Prior to this, he hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. Maybe his memory was jogged by Yanjun’s words. Regardless, you appreciate the attempt at levity. “I told you he’s a good man. You had nothing to be worried about.”

     He’s right, in a way. You didn’t know why you were so worked up over a conversation that took less than ten minutes. What were you expecting? For Yanjun to beg you to love him again, for him to confront you over breaking his heart? Clearly, it wasn’t very broken in the first place, considering the fact that he married Pingting not long after you left and gained a reputation of being something of a womanizer. Not that anyone would ever accuse an emperor of debauchery to his face.

     “Would you like to go back to your room, or are there other matters you would like to take care of?”

     “Actually,” you say, “do you mind taking me to the infirmary? I think I’d like to begin unpacking.” It’d take your mind off of things, at the very least. And you’d like to get your practice off the ground as soon as possible. Momentarily forgetting about Yanjun is just a bonus.

     Honglin eyes your robes with an arched brow, but when you look at him expectantly, he shrugs and grins. “As you wish. Follow me!”

     By the time you’re finished with unpacking most of your surgical equipment and organizing your anesthetics, you are sweaty, your hair has come undone, and your arms are sore. Just thinking about having to put away everything else has you sighing in exhaustion. You’re only about halfway done, and remembering that you still have to take inventory of all of your herbs makes you want to quit even before you’ve started, but you grit your teeth and decide to have everything finished by the next evening. The sun has long since set, and the palace has fallen into relative silence. Having removed your shirt jacket for ease of movement, you have to slink back to your rooms with it draped over your shoulders, hoping no one sees you in a state of moderate undress. You breathe a sigh of relief as you successfully make it back to your room without being spotted. Only to scream –– thankfully short and quiet enough not to cause a large commotion –– when you see the scene laid out before you, of course.

     Lin Yanjun and an extravagant dinner are at your table, and he looks moderately amused by the sight of your surprise and messy attire. His mother ambushed you similarly seven years ago, but you were wearing more clothes then. You doubt he is aware of how much he takes after her. “Sit,” Yanjun says, sounding more like he’s suggesting rather than ordering. “I wanted to speak with you in a less ostentatious setting.”

     And the candles, golden cutlery, and huge roast duck definitely serve to create a more minimalist, humble atmosphere.

     Biting back the quip, you do as he says and take a seat across from him. When you dined with his mother (whom you can see in him so clearly with the way the shadows dance across his face), you were expecting an apology. She did a good job of maintaining the impression of civil conversation, though its content was anything but civil.

      Without a hint of aggression, she told you, “You must know that you are no good for him.”

      You tried to protest, only to get plowed over.

      “Look at it this way,” the Dowager Empress had said. You still remember her words and the way her hair decorations clacked as she moved clear as day. “You are doing my son no favors. You may operate under the idealistic belief that true love will conquer all, but I must remind you, young one, that Yanjun will become the leader of a country in the real world. A country at war, constantly being attacked by our enemies to the north. He will reclaim the North and drive the Jurchens out once and for all. What he needs is someone who will provide him with the most aid in his endeavors. What could you possibly offer him that he could not find elsewhere?”

     At the time, you weren’t able to speak, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You never needed to challenge such a great authority before. The Dowager Empress took advantage of that.

     “Money? Connections? Are you a tactician of any sort?” You had no response. She was right. Yanjun was meant for greater things. And while you thought you’d be with him every step of the way, you knew that it wasn’t practical for him. Lady Yun, whose father was the second largest landowner in the entire country, or perhaps Lady Likun, whose father and brother were prominent figures in the military and who was a capable strategist in her own right, were better matches. He ended up choosing Lady Pingting, the daughter of a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Defense, so Yanjun evidently took his mother’s wishes to heart. What did you have to offer him besides your love? “You are a commoner, my girl. He will be an emperor. Surely you see something wrong with this picture, yes? You may believe that the two of you are in love, but that is only because you don’t know any better. The universe has an order and it will always right itself. This is a lesson you would do well to learn now.

     “This is what is going to happen,” said the Dowager Empress then, so sure that she could tell the future. “You are going to tell Yanjun that you no longer wish to marry him. You will then pack your meager belongings and return to Changqi. You will remember your place, and you will never speak of or to him again.”

     As it turned out, the old bitch was a prophet.

     Except here you are, sitting in front of Yanjun as he places a leg of duck in your bowl. It’s something a husband would do. Is this the universe righting itself? No, it can’t be. You remain frozen, hands in your lap. “Why?” You thought you could do this. That you could speak to him again without wanting to flee. It should be easier without all those eyes on you, but it isn’t.

     “Is it wrong of me to wish to speak to an old friend?” He arches a brow and smiles at you. It isn’t pleasant. He looks every bit like the shark his mother was when she last spoke to you. He looks like he’s just waiting for you to spill blood so he can strike. “We are still friends, are we not?”

     You don’t respond. The question hangs awkwardly in the air as you turn instead to eat. Perhaps it’s petty of you, but you’ve learned to pick and choose your battles. Professing any affection for him would do you no good, especially when taking into consideration the people who could hear you but who you couldn’t see. “And I suppose you thought you were doing me favors by coming to my quarters?” He blinks in surprise as you speak after sipping some broth. It’s remarkably easier to speak to Yanjun when you think of his mother at the same time, of how he’s no longer the lovesick boy that you knew –– of how he might not have your best interests at heart anymore. “There are eyes and ears around the palace and you thought that coming to my bedchambers alone was the best course of action. I see.”

     Yanjun laughs then, releasing a rather cavalier scoff. “My apologies, I didn’t think ––”

     “Clearly.”

     His chuckle cuts off abruptly. “I was hoping we could be civil.” Clearing his throat, Yanjun returns to his meal. Each movement –– even to raise his chopsticks to his mouth –– is practiced and sharp. Though it is only dinner, and a private one at that, Yanjun still can’t relax. You feel a little bad for snapping at him. The last seven years probably haven’t been very good to him. He had to have been forced to grow a thicker skin. Scales, if you will. The bags under his eyes say as much, anyway.

     The two of you eat in silence, as you don’t dare to speak lest he turn your cold attitude against you. You had often imagined what it would be like to share meals as husband and wife. What it might be like to sit beside him in the grand hall, reaching over to add some vegetables to his rice and as he ladles you soup. How domestic it might have been. How useless these fantasies were. The Dowager Empress was right. At the time, you were a frivolous, naïve girl in love with the idea of love. Now, you are not. You’ve grown, and you’ve grown beyond him. The two of you were better off without each other. This isn’t you finding your way back to each other, or whatever drivel your eighteen year-old self would’ve come up with.

     This is not the universe correcting its course.

     But still, you have to wonder.

     “Why me?”

     The two words startle Yanjun out of his apparently length and intense internal monologue. From the harsh way he was staring at the plates in front of him, you thought he was trying to consume them with sheer willpower and ocular strength alone. He looks up at you and raises a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

     “Out of all the doctors in the Middle Empire, out of every physician, every healer, every master of the art of medicine, why did you choose to extend this position to me?” There are plenty of people more famous than you, renowned across the nation for their prowess and advancement in the field. While you had garnered a bit of popularity (and something of an ego) for your improvements of herbal medicine, you still had doubts that these accomplishments alone warranted your sudden and enormous rise in status. “I highly doubt it’s because we are friends. If you’ll forgive me for the rudeness of the accusation, I believe you may have some ulterior motives.”

     It isn’t something you would have suggested of him before. At least, not out loud. Yanjun was shrewd and playful, but such an important position, one that held the entire palace’s health in its hands, was not one to be taken so lightly. Nepotism had no place when life and death were involved, and you always thought that he knew better than to place personal preference over effectiveness. But you hardly know him anymore. So much of him is physically familiar. The details, however, are too dissimilar not to notice.

     His relative reticence, the almost sleepy way he blinks, head occasionally dropping and his chin staying tucked against his clavicle as if he doesn’t want to lift it back up. The calluses on his fingers from hours of holding a brush. The wry curl of his lips resembling something like guilt. Like you’ve sniffed him out. The light dusting of pink across his cheeks, either from the wine he’s been indulging in intermittently throughout the night or embarrassment. Surprise, given that you never thought to challenge him like this before.

      So, you were right. He was hiding something. Maybe you know him better than you think.

     “That is a rather abrasive way to phrase your concerns,” Yanjun says mildly, “but I will forgive you for your tone.” He folds his hands in his lap. “The simple truth is that I needed someone I could trust implicitly. Although I had my doubts that you would be able to hold up under the pressure, there are very few people I trust to make sure that my family and friends and allies are healthy.”

     You swallow roughly. The pressure. Right. When you told him you no longer wished to marry him, you cited pressure as the deciding factor in your departure. Of course, he’d remember.

     “Nevertheless, you are correct. I owe you the truth. I am well aware of what was written on the summons. None of it is particularly untrue. I fully expect you to conduct research to combat the tianxing plague in Guilin. But that isn’t all I wanted to ask of you. I suppose that, upon reflection, my apprehensions no longer seem very reasonable. And, as such, I no longer see the point in hiding anything from you. Are you aware of what happened to your predecessor?”

     “Only that he leapt into a river not long after your mother’s death.” You decide to keep your conspiracy theories to yourself.

     “You were not informed of why?”

     You shake your head. You wish he would just get to the point, though he’s had a history of being superfluous in his storytelling.

     “The official narrative we passed along to the palace staff is that he feared punishment for failing me because he was unable to prevent my mother’s death. She had an ailment of the liver and suffered a painful death. It would not be surprising to hear that he feared retribution from the crown.” Would it? You didn’t think he was that kind of man. But people change. Yanjun leans in and your traitorous heartbeat quickens. If he notices the way your breath catches in your threat, he doesn’t say anything.

     “Only three ministers, the Empress, myself, and now you know the truth. The Crown Prince’s health has been deteriorating for the past month. While it seemed the doctor had been making some headway, he took his life two weeks into my son’s illness. I can only presume this was because he reached an unfavorable prognosis. But rather than do anything he could to save a seven year-old boy’s life, he took the coward’s way out.” Yanjun clenches his fists. You fight the urge to reach over and take his hand.

     What little surprise you felt at learning that he was a father quickly faded and was replaced by sympathy. You had no children to call your own, disgraced to spinsterhood after the dissolution of your engagement. You had no idea what he must feel to watch his son in pain, to watch the boy die. You could scarcely fathom it. It puts the exhaustion in his visage into perspective. Your heart aches for him.

      But you still aren’t very happy with him. “Why… why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” For someone who claimed to trust you enough to put his family’s life in your hands, the fact that he decided to withhold this information from you didn’t support his assertion whatsoever.

     “I couldn’t risk your summons being intercepted. If the news that the heir to the Empire was dying fell into the wrong hands, I feared the worst. Morale dropping in the midst of a war we are losing is the mildest of consequences.” He clenches his jaw and avoids your gaze. “Worse yet, the Jurchens may send someone to finish the job. We are aware that they have spies within the palace. We just don’t know who they are.”

     “That sounds like a bunch of excuses. Valid ones, yes, but not the truth. Yanjun, if you want me to do the best that I can, you have to trust me.” Not all of him is entirely unfamiliar –– the way his voice wavers and the way he refuses to look you in the eye are little dishonest quirks you recall from his childhood. Your fingers twitch and his flex in return. You’re both too stubborn to reach over and complete the movement. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     Licking his lips, Yanjun drops his head. He reaches up to rub his jaw. He used to do that when he got in trouble and his steward was about to wring a confession out of him. “I was afraid. And foolish. I thought that you still loved me. That you would refuse to treat a child that you thought could’ve and should’ve been yours. For that, I apologize. I should not have let my assessment of you be clouded by fanciful sentiment.”

     Can you resent him for his line of reasoning? Part of you wished that he thought you still loved him, but that notion was supposed to work in conjunction with the idea that he still loved you too. That part of you, the smallest bit of romanticism remaining within you, was wrong. He thought you still loved him, and he used that to think the worst of you. You are not afraid to admit that it hurts –– both on your behalf and his. What happened to Yanjun to make him this cold? Was it… was it you who made him this way?

     “Oh, Yanjun.” Your words are pitying. You can tell by the way his shoulders tense that it irritates him. “If you had just asked, I still would have come.”

     A chill creeps down your spine as Yanjun stands and meets your eyes. You’ve never seen him like this before. Aloof, icy. His eyes are hard as stone. It’s difficult to categorize him, and he always seems to be shifting. For much of your dinner, Yanjun was nowhere near as cold. Just because he wasn’t talking didn’t mean that he was trying to freeze you out or scare you. But now, you can’t be sure. When you look up at him, you can’t help but remember the way he used to look at you. He gazed at you with such warmth, like you were the sun and stars and everything in the universe –– a sentiment that you shared toward him.

     Now, none of that remains. Yanjun looks at you, and there is… nothing there. Negativity, resentment, and bitterness, perhaps. Though you don’t want it to be so, there is no longer anything warm and loving when he beholds you. There is only dislike. He speaks deliberately, mouth forming his words with self-assurance. You can’t construe his tone as anything but loathing. “I couldn’t have known that.”

[angelrider13]

FFXV: Scars Shaped Like Wings

For @sparklecryptid

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: blood, violence, death, child death, implied sexual abuse (nothing graphic or explicitly stated), physical abuse, it gets worse before it gets better

AO3 | FF | Master Fic List

“Well, well, well, what have we here? It seems our glorious Empire has been hiding quite the little treasure, hasn’t it?”

MS-01659 jerks up at the sudden sound, taking a fighting stance despite the ache in her bones and the burn in her blood, years of ingrained reflexes forcing her to react before she even has a chance to think about it.

The sight of the man before her has her stomach dropping somewhere around her ankles. Hair the color of red wine, shining gold eyes and a sly smile.

Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim. She recognizes him from the files she was shown of all the Empire’s most prominent figures. Seen tapes of him, photos, but never the man himself.

MS-01659 she remembers this man even though she’s never met him. He is old, far older than he appears, and dangerous. So very, very dangerous. He could kill her without a thought, without a care.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the First Chosen King, the Fallen King, the Accursed.

What was she to someone like him?

He’s watching her. She can see the curiosity in his gaze, the interest in his body language. It’s not exactly the same as the way the scientists would watch her, but it’s close enough that her stomach twists. Does he know what she is? What she can do? Does he know about the others? She remembers distantly that the MTs where his creation. He didn’t build them, no, but they would not exist without him. He gave the Empire tools to create weapons that could fight against the magic and might of the line of Kings he so hated. And she knows that he didn’t care in the slightest what those weapons cost.

It would be easy for him to kill her.

And she is so tired.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks, because if he is, she would very much like to get on with it. She doesn’t remember much about being dead, but she’s fairly certain that things would hurt less than they did right now.

He tilts his head, looking for all the world like a curious cat that’s finally found something interesting. “Now why would I do that?”

She shrugs. “Because you can.”

He hums, nodding. “True. But what would that gain me?”

She watches him watch her, slowly loosening her stance until her arms are at her sides. Her fingers still tingle with energy that pushes at her skin, looking for a way out.

“Why would you need to gain anything? It would be easy for you to kill me,” she says.

He looks amused. “You think so?”

She stares at him. She knows so. He’s good at pretending otherwise, but MS-01659 knows that a killer stands before her. There’s an energy humming under his skin, like hers but not, poised like a predator ready to strike. He’s taken lives before and he’ll take lives again. She’s nothing special compared to him – just another insect under his boot.

He must see something of her thoughts in her eyes because the smile he gives her has far too many teeth. “There are worse things than dying, my dear,” he says.

He says it with the intimacy of someone who knows. And he does, if what she remembers is true. But.

“I know,” she replies simply, because it’s true.

There are worse things than dying. Dying is easy. Living is hard. But torture? This sham of an existence she’s been living? That’s worse. She’s wished for death on the bad days and thought about it on the not-as-bad days. It’s a thought that is constantly circling in her head. She doesn’t want to die, not really. She wants to see the things she remembers, experience them in this life and see if they really are that wonderful or if she’s just made the whole thing up.

But she wonders sometimes.

She always wonders.

Because dying is easy.

His smile fades at her answer and his expression becomes something MS-01659 can’t read. “So you do,” he agrees with a low hum, glancing around at their ruined surroundings, “What do you intend to do about all this?”

She blinks at him, not at all prepared for the question.

Do? What is there to do?

She looks around them, takes in the crumbling walls and shattered equipment, gaze lingering on broken bodies. It’s jarring, seeing so much red. Her world up until this point has been so bland and uniform and lifeless. She doesn’t understand what she’s supposed to do, doesn’t understand the purpose of the question. She’s never thought about it before.

Well.

That’s not entirely true.

She’s thought about it. She’s thought about it when she could think through the pain, when the scientists would leave her alone long enough to simply breathe.

Do.

What will she do now that they aren’t hovering over her shoulder, hounding her every move?

She stares at their corpses and thinks of their cold hands and greedy smiles. Thinks of the trainers that hurt and broke in the name of teaching. Thinks of the other subjects and their blank eyes and closed off expressions. Thinks of the guards that are there to keep them in, instead of keeping the ones who hurt them out.

She can end that.

She’s a person, but the scientists wanted a weapon.

MS-01659 looks up into bright gold eyes, sees the curiosity there and wonders what this man will do.

“You won’t kill me?” she asks, just to clarify. It will be inconvenient if he changes his mind.

Ardyn smiles at her, mocking and sincere all at once. “Not today,” he agrees.

MS-01659 nods and turns on her heel, striding out of the broken room. Her bones ache and her muscles burn, but there’s energy humming under her skin, bright and crackling and dangerous. Ardyn follows like a shadow in her wake, silent and watching. She can hear the alarms sounding now, the rumbling thunder becoming distant as she returns to intact halls.

Two guards round the corner. They see her and start shouting, rushing towards her, guns drawn.

She holds out her hands, crystalline blue shards gathering at her palms. A blink and she’s holding a sword in her left hand and a dagger in her right. It’s easy as breathing after all this time and the energy under her skin swells, sharp and eager.

The dagger finds a mark in one guard’s throat and he goes down with a gurgled scream as she follows the blade across the hall in a flash of blue light. She pulls it free even as she slams into his body, too used to the sensation to flinch or falter even when his blood splatters on her face, surging up and using the sword to block the other guard’s blow as she shoves the dagger into his leg, slicing cleanly through the artery. She kicks out at his other leg, the loud crunch of bone breaking echoing in her ears as her foot connects with his knee. He collapses with a shout and she watches as he bleeds out in seconds.

She thinks she’s supposed to feel something.

She just killed two people.

People don’t just kill other people.

Except she did.

And she doesn’t feel bad about it.

She doesn’t feel anything really.

That’s wrong though. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. It’s not supposed to be easy.

People don’t just kill other people.

They’re not supposed to anyway.

But.

People aren’t supposed to experiment on other people either.

She looks over her shoulder and sees Ardyn watching. He raises a brow at her but doesn’t move otherwise. He didn’t interfere, didn’t try to stop her or warn the guards.

Good.

MS-01659 has lost track of how many people she’s killed. The guards that she’s come across have all tried to stop her. Tried and failed. The scientists have commanded her to stop, calling out her number and shouting orders even as they cower away from her. She cuts them all down, their blood soaking her uniform.

Some try to hide from her, locking themselves into observation rooms that are specially designed to withstand anything that could go wrong in a lab. MS-01659 presses her hands against the door and lets the energy burning under her skin loose and it melts. The energy sings in her veins, in her blood, in her bones.

She kills everyone she comes across, barely registering their existence before ending it.

Ardyn follows behind her, an amused little smile on his lips.

MS-01659 doesn’t know how many people she’s killed.

She knows it’s a lot.

She knows that the person she was Before would be horrified.

But she’s not that person anymore, not really.

She doesn’t know how many people she’s killed.

She hasn’t been counting.

MS-01659 has only ever been a number to these people.

They are less than that to her.

The door slides open and MS-01659 doesn’t falter as she steps into the training room. Four guards, one trainer.

One subject.

MS-01659 recognizes them. They were in the same batch, grew up in the same unit.

The guards try to take her out first.

They see the blood, have probably heard some reports. She knows there are cameras all over the building and she’s made no effort to hide herself. Even with the storm still raging outside – and she knows because she can feel the pull of it in her gut, the energy singing gleefully as it fuels the tempest – there are still sections of the base that are operational enough for internal communication.

The trainer is next. She recognizes him too. He trained her before. He broke her arm when she missed a shot by two millimeters. He’s screaming at her to stand down.

She doesn’t.

Then it’s just her and the subject.

MS-01657, earlier in their sequence than her, older by two minutes. He snuck her extra rations once when hers were taken as part of a punishment for some obscure failure she no longer remembers.

He charges her.

She doesn’t hesitate.

He’s on the ground gasping for breath even as he bleeds out. He knows he’s dying and he looks at her with confused eyes that are a mirror of her own. She can see the relief there too. It’s over for him and he knows it. No more training. No more punishments.

No more pain.

She kneels down next to him and pulls him into her arms, cradling him close. He blinks at her, breath hitching in his throat, but leans into her hold.

There a memory in the forefront of her mind, a half-forgotten lullaby her mother used to sing to her once upon a time in a life that was warm and safe and good.

MS-01659 looks into MS-01657’s eyes and sings her brother to sleep.

She feels it when he breathes his last, sees it when the light leaves his eyes. She reaches up and closes them, carefully. Gently. She holds him close and presses her face into his hair and for a moment, she just breathes.

He was like her.

He was like her and she killed him.

There’s fire in her throat and water in her eyes and she wants to scream.

She doesn’t.

She finds the flames under her skin, pulls them to the surface.

She lets it out.

Her brother burns in her embrace and the heat of it sears into her skin.

She keeps at it until there’s nothing but ashes left and the lingering smell of burning flesh.

MS-01659 takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and counts.

One.

Guard. Guard. Scientist. Guard. Trainer. Guard.

Two.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Guard. Guard. Doctor.

Five.

Doctor. Doctor. Guard. Scientist. Trainer. Trainer.

Nine.

Guard. Guard. Scientist. Trainer. Doctor. Guard.

Fourteen.

The two doctors in the room go down easily. They know nothing of combat and the only reason they are even here is to keep as many subjects alive as possible. Whatever it takes. She feels nothing as they attempt to flee from her, terror plain on their faces. She cuts them down as easy as breathing.

She approaches the bed in the center of the room, looks at the small body in the bed hooked up to numerous machines. The beep of the heart monitor seems loud in the sudden silence, but she notes how slow it is, how weak. She doesn’t know this subject; they’re from a newer batch. They’re younger than her. Smaller. She can see the bandages covering their body, see the crimson seeping through the pristine white – it’s a wonder they’re still breathing.

They have the same nose, the same face shape, the same skin tone. Her hair is blond though, and theirs is black. She reaches out and puts a hand on their cheek, the touch feather-light and careful. Their eyelids twitch and glassy blue eyes peer up at her in a feverish haze.

She can see the moment they register her, the moment they realize that she is not another doctor or scientist or torturer.

“Please,” they rasp, “’urts.”

MS-01659 can see what they’re asking for reflected in their eyes. She swallows the lump in her throat and nods.

“Okay,” she whispers, “Okay. It will stop soon.”

She moves her hand to their forehead and thinks about the gold light that stops her pain sometimes. Pictures it clearly in her mind and shows the image to the energy that crackles under her skin. She feels it pause, feels how the way it rushes out is gentle instead of ferocious. The gold glow comes to her palm and she can feel all the tension seep from her sibling’s body.

Behind her, she can feel the energy that surrounds Ardyn go completely still, feel the way his eyes bore into her back, heavy and intent.

She ignores him.

“Tha’k ‘ou,” her sibling whispers, eyes sliding shut, a knowing, grateful smile on their lips.

“Hush,” MS-01659 says softly, “It will be over soon. Just rest.”

And then she sings. The same lullaby she’s sung fourteen times today. She sings until she is certain they are asleep, certain that they are unaware. She’s numbed the pain, but she can’t be sure it will work; she’s never done this before. They’ve lived with enough pain. She won’t add to it in this moment of mercy.

She brings up her other hand and places it on their chest, right over their heart, and thinks of the storm raging outside. She thinks of flashing, jagged lines of light and echoing booms and the smell of ozone. There’s a crackle of energy at her fingertips, sparks along her skin, the smell burning flesh.

The heart monitor gives a single, continuous beep.

MS-01659 takes a shaky breath and summons fire to her hands, watches as her sibling’s body burns.

Fifteen.

Guard. Guard. Doctor. Guard. Doctor.

Seventeen.

Trainer. Scientist. Scientist. Guard. Guard.

Twenty.

Guard. Guard. Guard. Guard. Guard.

Twenty-two.

Scientist. Scientist. Guard. Guard. Guard.

Twenty-six.

MS-01659’s sisters lunge for her, expressions wild.

She rolls to the side, her movements controlled where theirs are not. She looks at them, takes in the feral light in their eyes, the way they don’t feel quite right. The energy that lives under their skin doesn’t hum like Ardyn’s does – like it’s at home, like it belongs, like it’s settled – or surge like hers does – looking for a purpose, a way out, an escape. No, their energy is that of a dying star before it goes supernova – unstable and uncontrolled and unraveling.

Her sisters are completely shattered inside, their energy consuming them from within, eating them up until there is nothing left.

She looks at Ardyn over their burning corpses. His amusement from earlier has vanished, his face blank as he stares her down. His energy is still, silent, waiting. It fills the room, lingering against the edges of her senses and her own energy lashes out, pushing back, demanding a way out, a way through. MS-01659 doesn’t understand the look in his eyes, doesn’t know what he sees when he looks at her. She wonders if this is to be her fate too, to be consumed until there is nothing left but ash and stardust. She wonders if his fate is the same even though she remembers a different one.

“Even stars must die,” she whispers.

Ardyn says nothing, but steps to the side when she leaves the room.

Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

Trainer. Trainer. Guard. Trainer.

Thirty-four.

Doctor. Guard. Guard. Guard. Doctor.

Thirty-seven.

Guard. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist.

Forty-one.

Guard. Guard. Guard. Guard. Guard.

Forty-five.

MS-01659 stares down at the body of the guard with empty eyes. She knows him. He’s the one who snuck into her bunk during rest hours. She knows he did it to other subjects too. She feels nothing as she stares down at his corpse, nothing at she draws her blade across his throat just to be sure.

There’s a bullet in her shoulder, but the wound only registers as a dull throb in her mind and digging it out results in nothing more than a mild twinge. A bullet is nothing when her body has been trying to tear itself apart at the seams for years. Distantly, she thinks there’s something wrong with that. That she should hurt more, that this level or pain shouldn’t be normal.

But it is.

And she’s lived with it far too long to let it stop her.

The boy in the bed looks up at her with hazy eyes, skin so pale it’s almost translucent. He’s battered and bleeding and there’s a bruise in the shape of a hand around his throat. There are two bullet holes in his chest and one in his stomach and MS-01659 knows that he’ll die of blood loss soon. She gathers him up in her arms even as he flinches away from her and turns him towards his tormentor’s body.

“He will never hurt you again,” she whispers, “He will never hurt anyone again.”

Her brother goes limp in her hold releasing a shaky sigh that turns into wet, rasping coughs that paint his chin crimson. MS-01659 ignores the way the blood spatters on her – on her skin, on her clothes, on her face – and merely rubs a soothing hand down his back.

“Hurts,” he croaks out when he finally stops.

“I know,” she replies, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple just like she remembers her father doing a lifetime ago, “Go to sleep. The pain will stop soon.”

“M’kay,” he slurs, head lolling against her shoulder.

MS-01659 sings her lullaby, feels her brother relax against her even as his blood seeps into her clothing, and when he’s asleep, it’s simple to stop his heart. A crackle of lightning and flash of sparks and it’s done.

She holds him as he burns, same as all the others.

Forty-six.

Guard. Guard. Scientist. Guard.

Forty-nine.

Trainer. Doctor. Guard. Guard. Trainer.

Fifty-three.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Guard. Scientist. Guard.

Fifty-eight.

Trainer. Trainer. Guard. Scientist. Guard.

Sixty-four.

MS-01659’s shoulder is slowing her down. The pain she can handle, she’s handled worse after all, but the wound itself is impacting her movement enough that the last two guards were able to get in some hits that she should have been able to stop. Her ribs ache and exhaustion is pulling at her, making her limbs heavy.

But she can’t stop. Can’t rest. Not yet.

The next room she enters is filled with scientists. They all flinch at the sound of the door sliding open and look har her with horrified eyes. She isn’t sure what they know, but she supposes that being covered in blood and holding a blade in each hand as lightning sparks along her arms is perhaps more than a little terrifying in and of itself. They try to run, to beg, one even tries to fight. But they are not fighters and they spent years turning her into a weapon of war. It’s easy to cut them down, easy to slide her blades into flesh.

It’s easy.

There’s a tank in the middle of the room with a body in it.

Or what’s left of a body.

The bottom half is missing along with the left arm and part of the shoulder. There are numerous tubes and machines hooked up to them and it’s only the regular beep of the heart monitor that tells MS-01659 the body is still alive and not just a preserved corpse. The energy surrounding them is barely there, just the dying, flickering embers of a once roaring fire, nothing at all like the raging infernos or controlled storms she’s encountered before.

This subject, this person, has died already. But the scientists had apparently deemed them useful still and prolonged their death, their suffering, because they could learn from it.

MS-01659 clenches her jaw and plunges her sword into the tank. The glass shatters and the fluid inside comes rushing out with enough force that it nearly knocks her over. Her sibling is left hanging limply inside the shattered tube and MS-01659 ignores the way the equipment monitoring their vitals starts screeching wildly as she carefully maneuvers them out of their glass prison.

They don’t stir, don’t so much as twitch at her touch. They’re barely breathing, just the smallest of inhales, while she unhooks all the machines. As soon as she’s finished, that little motion – the only motion, none of her other siblings were so still – stops. They don’t breathe again and MS-01659 presses her fingers to their throat to check for a pulse. There isn’t one.

She presses her lips together and nods to herself, throat tight. She holds them close and sings to them even though they can’t feel it or hear it. She takes their remaining hand, runs her thumb over the barcode one their wrist and makes herself memorize the string of numbers underneath it. They don’t have a name. None of them have names. And as much as she hates the numbers, it’s the only form of identification they have. So she will remember them. All of them. Maybe when she figures out how people get names, she can get some for them.

MS-01659 presses a kiss to their damp hair and sets them aflame.

Sixty-five.

Guard. Scientist. Scientist. Trainer. Guard.

Sixty-nine.

Doctor. Doctor. Scientist. Guard. Guard.

Seventy-three.

Trainer. Trainer. Guard. Scientist. Guard.

Eighty-one.

Guard. Guard. Guard. Scientist. Guard.

Eighty-six.

MS-01659 has never held a baby before.

In her first life, she’d been an older sister. She’d gotten to hold each of her younger siblings when they’d been born. She’d gotten good at it, she’d known how to hold them without even thinking about it – how to support their neck, how to swaddle them, how to keep them calm.

In this life, MS-01659 remembers the motions – putting the baby’s head in the crook of her arm to provide support, the little bouncy rocking motion to soothe them – but they are awkward and rusty and not quite right. But the baby must disagree because they merely give a little yawn, a sleepy smack of their lips, and then they’re curling in as close as they possibly can despite the blood covering her. MS-01659 is fascinated by this small thing. They’re so tiny and soft and breakable. They feel fragile in her arms, as if one wrong move will leave them shattered like glass. She finds it hard to believe that everyone starts out like this, this small fussy thing that isn’t even capable of lifting their own head let alone being capable of harming another. And yet she knows it to be true. Every person she killed today – every scientist, every doctor, every trainer, every guard, every subject – started out exactly like this.

This small, squishy, innocent, defenseless creature.

How can they all grow to be so different? How can they all start exactly like this, exactly the same, and treat each other so horribly? How can someone look at this and think of nothing but harm?

MS-01659 doesn’t understand.

She doesn’t understand the point of it.

Is there a point? A reason? Or is all of this simply just because?

She doesn’t know.

The baby in her arms has a number on their wrist already, just like the rest of them. Tucked away in an incubator, alone and isolated and silent. Had they all started like this?

But this is the end. MS-01659 will not let this continue.

She puts a hand over the baby’s mouth and nose, presses down tight, until she can’t feel the flow of air beneath her palm. She sings her lullaby, watching as their little brow furrows, feels the hitch of their chest, the way their limbs push out in an automatic reflex. But their movements are weak and more like flailing than a controlled motion. It’s easy to hold them still, easy to wait until they go still.

Why is it so easy?

MS-01659 stares down at the little body in her arms, still warm, still soft, and wonders. She doesn’t have an answer, event with her knowledge from before. What she remembers tells her that it shouldn’t be easy, that if it’s easy then something’s wrong. And something is wrong, but at the same time, this is all MS-01659 knows. She might remember another life, but it’s not the same, not really. It’s like watching a story unfold – she might get attached to the characters, might become invested in the plot, but ultimately, it’s not real. It’s not something that affects her in real time.

So she doesn’t know what it means.

Water lands on the baby’s face and she blinks in confusion only to feel something wet rush down her cheeks. It’s warm, but it’s not thick or sticky the way blood is. Her eyes are burning and her throat feels raw.

“Oh,” she croaks, taking a shuddering breath, “Oh.”

She hadn’t realized she still knew how to cry.

MS-01659 sinks to the floor and curls herself around the tiny body in her arms and holds tight even when her own fire burns into her skin. It’s fine. She’s fine. No one will ever hurt her siblings again. They can rest, finally, free of pain. They’re fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

(It’s not fine.)

Eighty-seven.

“Do you know me?” MS-01659 asks as they wander aimlessly down a corridor.

They haven’t come across another person in over thirty minutes. She wonders if she’s finally managed to kill everything but the man standing next to her in this godforsaken place.

Ardyn hums. “My dear, I did not have the pleasure of meeting you until today,” he says with a flair that MS-01659 is starting to realize is just the way he talks.

The scientist and doctors all spoke in clinical detached tones and the guards and trainers spoke in orders that they expected to be obeyed. She remembers that people all had their own ways of speaking, their own tones and accents and pitches. But she’s never dealt with it before. She didn’t think it was a real thing people actually did. But here they are. She kind of likes it. Ardyn’s voice is nice. It’s deep and rich and he puts emotion – exaggerated or otherwise – into his tone. It’s fascinating. Even if she kinda wants to punch him sometimes.

“No,” she says, “You were surprised when I made the gold light. You feel like me. Like all of us. But different to. Your energy is at home. It fits in your skin.”

Ardyn looks at her, head tilted to the side.

MS-01659 absently thinks that she should probably be terrified of having his full attention, of having those gold eyes so focused on her. But she’s tired and achy and she just killed eighty-seven people. Ardyn already said he wouldn’t kill her today, but if he changed his mind, MS-01659 won’t particularly care. She’s had enough.

“Aren’t you a clever little thing,” he muses, more to himself than to her, she thinks, “But I suppose I do know you in a way.”

MS-01659 stares at him, waiting. She wonders what he’ll say, how he’ll spin it. She knows she’s interesting to him, enough so that he’ll probably try to use her somehow.

She’s not as opposed to the idea as she probably should be. But then again, Ardyn is currently well entrenched in Niflheim’s government. If Ardyn brings her anywhere near the people she knows would have ordered her existence, she’ll kill them. Just like she did everyone in this facility. She’ll cut them down one by one until someone kills her or she slaughters them all. She is not in the mood to be kind.

“It appears, my dear, that we are family.”

MS-01659 blinks, long and slow. That…was not direction she expected this to take. “Families are people things,” she blurts out, for lack of anything to say.

Ardyn raises a brow. “Are they now? Fancy that. And what are you, if not a person?”

MS-01659 scowls at him. “I’m a person,” she bites out.

“So you are,” he smiles, mocking and amused.

MS-01659 wants to set him on fire.

She does not.

Yet.

“What does that mean? Family?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

Ardyn hums. “It means, dear little warrior, that we have the same blood, the same magic, running through our veins.”

And that’s right, MS-01659 remembers what a family is, sort of. She knows that her parents and siblings from before were all blood related to her. But it’s not entirely correct either. It feels like a half answer somehow or perhaps she’s just unsatisfied with it.

“Give me a name,” she demands suddenly and probably a little foolishly. But he’s frustrating and she’s exhausted and the words slip out before she can stop them. Ardyn has been a person longer than most people have been alive. If anyone would know how to get a name, it would be him.

His brows fly up and he blinks at her, clearly startled. “A name?”

“People have names,” she says firmly, “I am a person, not a number. You say you’re family. So give me a name.”

Ardyn leans down and MS-01659 holds his gaze. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he’s looking for, but she will not back down from this. His expression is odd and MS-01659 doesn’t know what it means.

“Nova,” he says after a moment.

She tilts her head to one side, then the other, turning the name over in her head. It’s not even remotely similar to the name she had before. And that’s. That’s good, she thinks.

“Does it mean anything?” she asks.

His lips quirk into an odd little smile, almost like he’s trying to smirk but not quite making it there. “It means new,” he answers.

She blinks at that. That fits. That works. This is a new life. Maybe a new beginning? Yes, that fits.

“Nova,” she says, testing out the way the name feels on her tongue, “Nova.”

MS-01659 – Nova hums to herself and looks up into gold eyes. “I like it.”

Ardyn seems amused by that. “Glad to be of service, little niece.”

MS-0165 – Nova scrunches her nose up at the term, but can’t quite hide the giddy smile on her lips. She has a name. Ardyn called her niece. Niece means family and families are people things. It takes her a moment, but she finds the correct familial title tucked away in memories of warmth and light and love. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“I’ll ignore how disrespectful that tone is, dear niece.”

She huffs at him and continues down the hall.

“And what, prey tell, are you going to do now that you’ve killed every living thing in this facility, hm?”

She should probably feel worse about that than she does. She side-eyes the man next to her. “I didn’t kill you.”

“You did not,” he agrees with a nod and then flashes her a smile that has far too many teeth. “Would you care to give it a go?”

Nova squints at him, tries to gauge how serious he is, but can’t really tell. “I have better things to do.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a saying from somewhere,” she says absently, half-remembered words float through her head as she ducks through a broken doorway, ignoring the way her vision goes blurry for a moment when she straightens out, “Knowledge is power, or something like that.”

Ardyn hums consideringly. “I am familiar with the phrase.”

Nova looks up at him, eyes determined. “I want to know what I am.”

“The truth is not always kind.”

“Better to be slapped with the truth than kissed by a lie.”

Ardyn stares at her. “You are very well spoken for a child,” he says thoughtfully.

There’s the slightest bit of hesitation before that last word and she knows that it’s not the one he was thinking. Children aren’t like her. Children don’t know how to hold fire in their hands or throw a dagger accurately at a target. Children don’t massacre an entire building full of people.

“I am not a child,” she says, feeling old and tired and maybe a little broken, “They wanted a weapon. They got one.”

She turns on her heel and trudges further into the depths of the facility. She knows it won’t be pretty or nice or shiny, this information she seeks. But she still wants to know. She needs to know. The truth will hurt her, she knows. But not knowing? Not knowing and living with countless questions hanging over her head? That is worse.

The truth hurts, yes, but a lie will never heal.

She’s used to carrying pain by now.

A little more won’t kill her.

[lighthouseofthewanderess]

Goodbye

We’re all clear success isn’t a measure of the cars you own, the house, a perfect job, or family vacations every year. I’m sick of all the quotes that do nothing but bounce off the surface. The supposed pushing of self to do better and get to the end of the rainbow. But a rainbow’s a pretty swell thing by its own. The pot of gold is just a carrot to think you’re getting somewhere. Here’s a thought -- what if every day, you’re already there. Whatever moment you’re expecting when you reach the end is what you’re capable of feeling right here, right now. People underrate the small things that contribute equally to the meaning of ‘success’.

Being a single parent is harder than they say it is. I’ve seen my mom spend all her time with me for the past 2 decades and give up equally much. She stayed in a job just because there was no other alternative. She broke it to her daughter that there simply was no money to pursue medical science. But I see her stand tall next to me; as If I represent all the years she’s put in. Her face has wrinkled, her eyes widen up as she counts out change for the groceries. She forgets things, sometimes even gifts that I’ve got for her. I’ve never seen her pamper herself, try to marry again, or meet anyone even. Her life was simply never in the equation. It was always about me. For her, the measure of success is giving me a life she thought she couldn’t. Not without the concept of a family. Her little ways of knowing she’s done good is letting me pick whatever color of curtain I wanted in my room. To take me around town in a first-hand car. To cover the prices on the menu and warn me not to piss her off. That’s what I’m talking about. Yesterday maybe, none of this would’ve been possible, but today it is. And they’re all a bunch of little things that reflect equally on a point in life when things aren’t out of whack. When I take her out for dinner or book ourselves a spa date she shies away and says its a lot of money. But it also gives her another measure; her daughter is spending on things that were a luxury in her time. Here progress is success.

I remember making a little list of things I want to buy when I get a job. To me, success meant landing a good job. It meant reaching a moment where you can start building castles in the sky. But once I got there, I didn’t feel like I achieved anything. I felt it in the little things but not in walking into a job that I had landed. In a coffee from Starbucks -- a shop that was always far from my reach. In buying books off Amazon and watching the parcels reach an address. In a solo trip where money just melted away. Where I would have the luxury to take a couple days off and see a new place without anyone to steer my ship. I would smile whenever I found myself not giving it much thought but just doing the things I want. That was a little victory. For someone who’s always thought of the money first, to spend on herself. Here freedom is success.

Maybe I’m still talking about elusive things. Let’s come down to my clear compass for a sense of achievement. I’ve seen how movies have it all wrong. A serial killer probably turned out that way because he had an abusive childhood. The villain got his pure hatred because he was bullied in school. She saw violence as a child and ended up in prostitution. What are these character sketches even? Taking a minuscule sampling and repeating it on film over and over again until the jokes along the same vein start to prop up. Those who have gone through some trauma run the risk of personality disorders, clinical depression, insomnia, and a whole host of other issues. But there’s two ways to look at it. Either you add to those silly stereotypes or prove them wrong. And as a strong-headed Aries, I just had to prove them wrong.

The last few years saw me deal with all my big D related problems. I was doing great at work, the organization was bagging awards with things I had helped on. That’s because I had high-functioning anxiety. It helped me be super productive, have my mind on multiple things and move really fast with it all. It didn’t do anything for my self confidence. For the award night, I remember shopping alone trying to pick out a dress that would help me look like ‘I got this thing’. Even when I found it, I felt insecure wearing it. And on the stage a pretty girl smiled and shook hands but I was caving into myself. This wasn’t the sweet taste of success if inside I felt I didn’t deserve it. Getting out of the house was a task, every day felt like I didn’t have the strength in me. It was as though the wind would blow me away. On my bike, riding slow, I would feel the wheels drifting off to the side. Where was my center of gravity? Where was that core that would forever burn my light like the sun? Even on the off days, I wouldn’t like to get near the bed and give myself a break. I kept myself busy because the mind was a great magician who convinced me I wasn’t doing enough in life. It was a slow but painful process. To get out, to spend time with friends after dark. To tell myself that I am good enough, and where I am is good enough. Getting that positivity in me took forever, but once it did, I found happiness in the small things. In throwing a house party, in buying a swimming costume, in trying on outfits that were clearly chic. But that’s where I found my success. And like it or not, these small bursts count more than publications, headlines, awards, piled up gifts, or insane hikes. Success here is gifting yourself memories.

A colleague of mine, Kavya, brought out another important facet to this whole conversation. We ended up good people. People capable of loving, of giving and taking the world as it comes. The intricacies of why it is hard will be felt only if you went through something equally bad. And while I’m at it, let me give a tip for the people who you might be helping out. Please don’t say ‘I know what you’re feeling.’ It gets us super annoyed; not because we’re better at feeling pain but because it is impossible for any human to know and feel what the other person is going through. So stick to more harmless things like ‘I’m there for you.’ or “Do you want ice cream’ -- these we don’t mind so much. Going back to Kavya’s words as we sat up on the terrace talking about life and the like. Loving had to mean feeling. And just the right amount. If you felt nothing or way too much, it could fall into a disorder. I look at us like double-edged swords. On one side we're reactive and can lash out. And on the other we simply are our past, which could be dangerous in itself. To move from there and give love, I started with accepting what happened to me. To tell myself hurting another person because I was hurt isn’t going to heal me. To believe that the other person is deserving of my love even though I have been deprived of it. And getting comfortable with the fact that revenge is reserved for the movies and in real life it is spiteful. It meant building walls because only you are ever really there for yourself. You may have a wonderful partner, a loving family, but at the end of the day no one is going to war for you when you’re not in the picture. Then it was about operating this mechanism where the walls can come down instead of breaking it down entirely and exposing yourself. And this thought didn’t come without a few burnt fingers. Moments filled with too much hope in the world only to limp back because what else did you expect? Moments filled too much hate that it turned the atmosphere sour and made you cancel plans for the fear of ruining it again. After the walls were strong and the self fortified, there was still one big, huge quality I struggled to get. Trust was my biggest fear. To me it meant giving direct access to my castle, to operate the walls at their will. And I just couldn’t do it. Even with my own mom I couldn't. It wasn’t shown in the big decisions like where to invest what. I am smart enough to let people who know it better, do it. But it came in directing her on the streets because I didn't trust her to do it on her own. In standing next to her as she baked cake because I was sure it’ll get messed up. My mom didn’t know about my anxiety issues for 2 years either because I couldn’t trust her to believe me. I didn’t think she would get it, I was worried she’ll not even consider it a problem. That big cloud of imagined consequences kept me from telling her anything about my life. This is something I did with a lot of people. I kept my castle in plain sight and widened the moat around it. The cold distance could be felt the minute someone saw me from afar. I wasn’t welcoming, I didn’t want to be everyone's friend. I didn’t trust them enough to stay, to not leave me behind. And so, I didn’t want to give them any leverage either to hurt me with my own stories. I’ve stayed with one workplace for 4 years, I saw many people come and go. People I couldn’t deny not loving. Sunflowers that just spread so much light and happiness in my life that I couldn’t stop myself from trusting them. And when they left, I felt pangs of loss. I felt that I will be forgotten, no one sunflower will come my way or that this was all just a game. But thanks to them, and the way they still tuned in on my life, I realized trust is something you build over time. It is like a bridge. The walls stay, the moat stays. But everyone who really wants to know you will spend time to build that bridge and stay inside. Success here is letting love in. Till today, I’ve done a great job of not trusting people. Years have flown and yet the closest ones to me know only a fraction. It is an inside joke with myself. People think I open up easy. I share willingly and matters of sensitivity. That I am an open book. But in reality, it’s only the pages I’ve shown you that you’ve read. But now it’s all out, the entire thing. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to let you in, and now that you’ve met the real me, I hope you stay.

[marvelousbirthdays]

March 3 - Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis or Victor Creed/Darcy Lewis, something fluffy/smutty maybe with prompt "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." for sionnachoiche3

Written by @meilan-firaga

Darcy hadn’t exactly planned for impromptu, middle-of-the-woods ravishment when she’d picked out her underwear that morning. And by “picked out,” of course, she actually meant “summoned from the depths of the drawer where panties that should have been tossed years ago lived.” Actually, she wasn’t even sure she’d brought the kind of panties one would pick out with her when she’d packed for Jane’s little “research excursion”--also known as Operation Get Over Thor By the Power of SCIENCE!

Seriously, the town they were in was so remote that you had a better chance of running into a rampaging moose than an eligible bachelor. The good panties didn’t deserve to be brought so far only to suffer that kind of neglect. Which was a damn shame because back home she had quite the killer collection for a perpetual intern with pop tarts for a salary.

“I feel as though I might not have your complete attention, soulmate.”

Right. That guy. The woods and the ravishing.

There had been a bit of an incident.

Bad guys came for Jane and the Research. Darcy made a smartass remark. One bad guy pretty much instantly turned on the other bad guys with brutal efficiency, snarked out some words that just so happened to be the ones printed across her entire underboob, and promptly stole Darcy away to the romantic undergrowth of the conveniently nearby forest. They’d been thoroughly making out (which she was absolutely not going to be ashamed about because “Go, Universe!” her soulmate was a fox) and had just started to make with the neck kissing and wandering of hands beneath clothing when the Underwear Conundrum began to gnaw at the back of her mind.

“I had thought that your sharp tongue and forceful delivery during the fight might mean my soulmate wasn’t some empty-headed wilting flower, but I’m starting to think I got my hopes up.” His voice had been deep and rumbling from the get-go, but it suddenly held the beginnings of an angry growl. She didn’t know whether to quake with fear or an awkwardly timed giggle. “I’ll ask again: Where are your thoughts, Darcy?”

“First off, you didn’t actually ask that,” she snorted, reaching up to run one hand over his short crop of hair before pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “Take a chill pill, my dude.” She shifted beneath him until she managed to dislodge the pinecone that was becoming intimately acquainted with the lower portion of her spine. “I’m not ignoring you or anything. Well, not on purpose, anyway. My anxiety brain is just picking a bad time to say hello.”

Her soulmate sat back on his heels and quirked his head to one side in a way that was surprisingly reminiscent of a cocker spaniel. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he absently ran his hand from her knee to her hip, squeezing gently when he reached the top of her thigh. The tips of his--nails? Claws? Whatever.--caught just slightly on the fabric of her leggings. “Are you anxious because I arrived with men who probably would have killed you?” he asked with a frown. His hand made the trip back to her knee and up to her hip once more, and Darcy started to suspect that the action might become a nervous habit. “Because I thought I took care of that problem.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow and let out another snort. Rapid murder of would-be kidnappers had definitely solved the immediate problem when they met, but she really hoped he wasn’t going to try that tactic for every issue they encountered. “No, we’re cool on that,” she assured him, tugging on his shirt until he leaned down enough for her to drape her wrists over his shoulders. He was watching her intently--a predator focused on his prey even outside of a fight--and another thought popped into her head and out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You know my name, but I never got yours.”

Surprise briefly lit his hazel eyes before he folded down over her like a cat settling into a particularly warm patch of sunlight. “It’s Victor,” he rumbled against her lips. “Victor Creed.”

“Victor,” Darcy breathed, testing the sound just before he fused his mouth to hers once more. The name was familiar in a way that said she’d probably read it in all those S.H.I.E.L.D. files that had hit the web, but she had better things to focus on. Like the way he’d already learned that tugging her bottom lip between his teeth would make her hips rock against his own. Or how she’d already figured out that dragging her nails across his shoulder blades even over his shirt would pull a hungry growl from his throat.

“Does that resolve the anxiety?” he inquired in a throaty rasp as he started to nibble his way from her jaw to her shoulder.

In spite of her efforts to focus on the effect his teeth, tongue, and stubble were having on her lady parts, an image of threadbare cotton with useless elastic rudely shoved itself to the forefront of her mind. There might have been holes. Possibly a faded My Little Pony print.

“No,” she whined, “this bitch doesn’t go away that easily.” With a frustrated groan she dropped her arms from around him, pushed her glasses into her hair, and scrubbed both hands over her eyes. She felt him push away from her, possibly sitting back on his heels again. “Look, this has nothing to do with you and who you are and the things you’ve done because, I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous and growly and made of muscles, which is pretty much exactly the type of soulmate I always wanted to have and yeah it might be weird that I’m ready to jump on that pony right out of the gate when we met under weird ass circumstances but I’ve never been the type to think I was going to make my soulmate wait because Hello! Sex is awesome and again with the you being a pretty batch of sexy beast in a Darcy-approved package and I’ve always had this thing for bad boys and that’s definitely a bonus but here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure I’m wearing panties I’ve had since high school that definitely don’t match the two sports bras I’ve got on to tame the girls--one’s pink and the other’s about the same color as a yellow highlighter--and I don’t think I’ve shaved in a month and my brain keeps insisting that the second you get me naked you’re going to run away screaming.” Darcy finished on a deep, ragged breath with her hands pressed to her eyes. If she didn’t look at him she wouldn’t actively see him reject her.

“Is that all?” Victor asked mildly, shifting again to lie more fully against her. Darcy flung her hands away in surprise as his hips settled between her thighs and definitive evidence that her little freak out hadn’t diminished his interest in the slightest pressed against her. He was propped up with his elbows resting on either side of her head, muscular arms holding the majority of his weight so the rest of his body could lie flush against her own. He brushed one hand over her hair and settled her glasses back on her nose before he continued, a soft smile on his face that she suspected might not be a familiar expression.

“First of all, I don’t care about what you wear or if anything matches.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m told I’m a bit old fashioned when it comes to body hair, so as long as you’re comfortable with it I’m not going to care about shaving either.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I will always remember the day you were born and your words appeared on my skin because it was the day I realized that I might not be meant to spend my life alone.” The other cheek now.. “I promised myself that the life I’ve been living would end the day I met you, and I intend to keep that promise. I’m yours until you’re through with me.”

The kiss Victor placed on her lips next was gentle--almost chaste, even--and didn’t last more than a few heartbeats before he raised his head. “Now,” he insisted, winking at her before he continued. “The way I see it we’ve got two options. We can go back to town and wait for all this until you’ve had time to pamper yourself to your heart’s content. I’ll even buy you whatever undergarments you want. Or…” He trailed off and flashed her a grin that pretty much convinced her that he was going to be trouble. “Or I can promise not to look while I rip the panties you’re so worried about off and toss them in the bushes. Then we can get back to business.” To cap off the whole wonderful speech he bit his bottom lip and gave her a once over that could have melted those panties off her completely.

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” Darcy asked, internally doing a victory dance at the sultry tone she could hear in her own voice.

Victor huffed a laugh and gave her a quick, teasing kiss. “I always keep my promises.” He rocked his hips against hers again, providing the most delicious type of friction.

“Option 2, then, but don’t ruin my leggings. I like these.”

“Excellent,” he purred. He delivered another kiss--this one anything but chaste--then made his way across her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear. “Hold down your top,” he rumbled, pausing to gently nip her earlobe before sitting back on his haunches once more. He pulled off her boots and socks before peeling the leggings down, his eyes never once leaving hers.

This was not the first time that a man had gotten it into his head to rip off Darcy’s panties--or a woman, actually; there was that interesting night with a lady firefighter that she was never going to forget--so she’d prepared herself for the pain of having cloth pulled tight over particularly sensitive places. Instead, both of Victor’s hands slid up her thighs (knee to hips, totally some type of tic), worked their way beneath the bottom hem of her panties, and shredded the fabric. His nails sliced cleanly through what remained of the cotton and elastic in seconds. He tugged them off her and tossed them over his shoulder without a glance, then set about letting his lips follow that knee-to-hip path but along the inside of her thigh. There was no anxiety left in Darcy’s mind when his teeth sank into her skin just short of the spot where her leg met her torso and she let out a sound that couldn’t be called anything but a mewl of want.

“What a nice little sound,” Victor growled, his breath ghosting over the spot where she really wanted him to put that sinful mouth. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

And he did.

And by the time they’d picked themselves off the forest floor to head back into town--hand in hand--Darcy didn’t even care if he saw the scrap of cotton she swiped out of the bushes so they wouldn’t litter.

[badassbaker]

Unexpected Guest (Part 1?)

Unexpected Guest

“Hello, love! Sorry for the late call, but I wanted to let you know I landed safely and Monkey met me at the airport. Wanted to check-in with ya. Everything OK at the house? Have you found the wine we left you yet?”

“Yes. Tom, everything is amazing! Thank you so much for letting me stay here. And yes, I found the wine. Currently selecting the bottle for this evening, if you must know. The house is beyond perfect! Are you absolutely sure that the studio doesn’t mind?”

“Not one bit. Jakey is on vacation for the holidays with his family and Charlie and I are here in London with the boys through the New Year. Shooting doesn’t resume until the second week in January, so the place would just be sitting empty. My favorite camera operator needed a place to stay; and in all seriousness, love…they know better than to fuck with Venom.”

“You are such a dork. But again, thank you so SO much. It means more to me than you know.”

“You’re welcome, love,” he said sincerely. “Happy holidays to you. Shoot me or Charlie a text if you have any questions or problems. Just remember to try and relax. You’re not working for the next 2 weeks; so don’t spend all your time watching Jaws and working on your dolly tilt.”

“Fuck you, Tommy,” I said, laughing out loud. “You know very well that it’s called a dolly zoom. And it’s one of the single greatest camera shots in cinema history. I need to be ready when Spielberg calls.”

I could hear his laughter on the other end of the line. This man just loved busting my balls.

“Oh, Tom! Before I forget. I can’t find the number anywhere for the security company. I wanted to call them and have the gate code temporarily changed while I’m here. Just to make myself feel safer.”

“I don’t think we have it up anywhere. Let me find it and I’ll text it to you in a bit.”

“Got it. In all seriousness, thanks again, Tom. Love to you guys and to the boys!”

As I ended the call and searched for a corkscrew, I again marveled at just how amazing and bizarre this whole chain of events had been.

********************

Flashback

I’d been lucky enough to meet Tom Hardy and Jake Tomuri working as a camera operator on The Revenant two years ago. It was one of my first long-term jobs, and it had been a particularly brutal one. All the accounts of how difficult and exhausting the shoot had been were totally true. That said, I was there from the first day of shooting until the last; and you don’t go through that much with a group of people without making some good friends. After The Revenant had wrapped, everyone scattered to their own far-reaches of the globe, but a core group had kept in touch. Tom shot Taboo and the fourth season of Peaky Blinders in Europe for most of 2017 before beginning his prep for Venom; but as soon as he knew the starting date in Atlanta, he recommended me to the director. And the rest, as they say, was history.

On most location shoots, especially when it was a studio with money, the crew stayed in hotels near the set. Being a Marvel production, the crew received very nice accommodations on Venom, but Tom and Jake had reservations about me spending Christmas and New Year’s alone in a hotel room…even if it was a Marvel-funded hotel room. He and Jake had rented a house in Atlanta. Although, to call it a “house” was a bit of a stretch.

It was a big, beautiful, furnished mansion with a large pool out back and seven bedrooms. While it may have seemed a bit extravagant to the casual observer, it was important for them to have somewhere to stay that would provide not only security, but also space for their families to visit. Both men had significant others and four kids between them. Plus, to be perfectly honest, Jake and Tom were like two giant toddlers when left alone…and the boys needed space to play. You only had to take a look at Tom’s Instagram to see how much fun those two could have together. Hell, I didn’t even know they made Care Bear onesies in sizes large enough for an adult male. Tom and Jake each had two.

I knew that spending Christmas Eve alone sounded depressing, but I’d been on my own since 17 years old. Yes, I had some extended family, but no one that I considered close enough to spend the holidays with. I had always possessed an eye for camera work and managed to pay my way through film school by working on commercials. I got the job on The Revenant simply because I was able to do it conflict-free. I didn’t have a family or many close friends that would take me away from the arduous shoot. I could be there day in and day out and keep my focus. The director loved it; and since it was my first major Hollywood shoot, I set out trying to impress from the moment I walked on set. It worked.

I was on set for about a month before I started really meeting the cast. Tom and Jake had immediately taken me under their wings. They treated me like big brothers and were always supportive and encouraging.

I’d do dinners and movies and sing-a-longs with the boys after filming. Tom, Jake, and Paul were endlessly entertaining and it really made the months bearable. Each of them was in a happy, committed relationship and the thought of ever getting romantically involved with anyone on set was laughable to me. Camera work was my passion and what I had always dreamed of doing. I’d never let something as stupid as an on-set romance get in the way of my perfect job. Did I get lonely? Sure. Who didn’t? But there are worse things in life than being lonely.

I genuinely didn’t mind spending time on my own and would have been perfectly fine in my little hotel room for 2 weeks. But the boys had other plans.  

After we finished shooting for the day, they cornered me as I was putting equipment away. Jake had a small present in his hands.

“Hey guys! We wrapped for the day almost 2 hours ago. What are you two still doing on set?”

“Well,” Tom said, “We knew that you planned to stick around and stay in the hotel for Christmas, but we have a better idea. We both have flights home tonight and our rented place will be empty. We want you to stay there. We’ve already cleared it with the necessary folks and it’s good to go. All you need to do is say ‘yes’. Now open your present!”

Inside the box was a small silver key and keychain shaped like a house. Tied around it, was a red ribbon.

“Pleeease!” Jake begged. “We decorated, and cleaned, and everything!”

Looking at my two smiling friends, I realized that I had no choice.

“Boys, there is only one outcome here, isn’t there?” I asked, smiling warmly at their expectant faces.

“Fuckin’ right there is!” Jake affirmed, scooping me up in a crushing bear hug.

“It’s good you said ‘yes’,” Tom chimed in. “Jakey stole your car at lunchtime. It’s already back home in the garage.”

After getting the security code for the house and giving both boys hugs and kisses goodbye, I found myself being dropped off at the main security gate by one of the production assistants. I wished him happy holidays and made my way inside.

They had really outdone themselves.

Turning on the stereo system and sending music throughout the house, I gave myself the grand tour.

In the living room was a huge, decorated Christmas tree. While we were on The Revenant set, I had shared my deep love for Christmas decorations. They were my favorite part of the holiday; and it seemed that the boys had remembered. The scene was something straight out of a catalog and I found myself deeply touched at how much they had done for me. And to make the gesture that much more beautiful, I knew that they did it simply because I was their friend…and never expected a thing in return. How I’d gotten so lucky, I’d never know.

The kitchen, which looked like it hadn’t been touched, was spotless. Opening the fridge, I found it stocked with water, snacks, and a lot of wine. The guys knew I liked to cook and bake, and they had definitely ensured that I wouldn’t go hungry during my stay. I could probably cook a family meal each night and still not run out of food before they got back.

Grabbing my bags, I headed upstairs. All of the bedrooms had been cleaned and linens had been changed, so I had my pick of accommodations. One caught my eye. The king size bed was plush with cream colored blankets. It wasn’t the biggest bedroom in the house, but it had a beautiful stone gas fireplace at the foot of the bed and a window overlooking the backyard. In my suitcase, I found a pair of old yoga pants and the tank top that Jakey had gotten me for my birthday. He had convinced me to do yoga with him one day after shooting. I hated it and informed him that I preferred to drink for stress relief. Not only did I never have to do yoga with him again, but I got a killer shirt out of it. Completing the look with a pair of fuzzy pink socks, I made my way back downstairs to check out the rest of the house.

Downstairs was a game room, complete with pool table and bar which led to the coziest home theater I had ever seen. The overstuffed couches were made for snuggling up in front of the screen and I knew that I’d more than likely spend at least a few nights dozing off in there.

I strolled back upstairs and into the kitchen, intent on taking a closer look at the wine in the fridge, when my phone started to ring. It was late, but I knew immediately who’d be on the other end. I made Tom promise that he’d call once he was home. We chatted for a few minutes; and after thanking him profusely and sending my love to Charlie and the boys, I hung up and got ready to start my evening.

End Flashback

***********************************

I had two weeks off and I planned to make the most of every second. Just as I was about to uncork my bottle, I heard it.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

My heart jumped into my throat.

The house was supposed to be empty. Tom, Jake, and the producers were the only ones who knew I’d be here and I was the only one with the gate code. How could anyone have gotten to the door?!

Immediately, I grabbed my phone and began to dial 911.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Before I could complete the call, my screen lit up.

‘Hardy calling’ was displayed on the screen.

My panic increased by the second.

“Hello! Tom! Tom, someone’s at the door! They’re pounding on it. I need to hang up and call the police!”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The disturbance at the door continued as I got more and more scared and tears began to fall. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.

This was not how the evening was supposed to go…

“Tom! Tom, I’m scared! I’m hanging up now. I need to call the cops! Whoever is out there bypassed the security code. I’m alone here. Please, let me call for help!”

“Pet, calm down! Listen to me! You’re OK. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Tom, you’re on the other side of the ocean. I need help here NOW! I’m hanging up!” I yelled as the knocking at the door continued.

“Wait! Please! Did you see The Drop?” He asked.

“Excuse me!?”

“The Drop. My movie. Did you see it?”

“Hardy, I swear to fuck, if the last thing I do before I die is chat with you about your filmography, I’m going to haunt your ass for-fucking-ever.”

“Love, go open the door.”

“No! Have you not heard a single thing I’ve said?! There. Is. Someone. Out. There.”

“Yes. And I know who it is.”

Then he was gone.

In the silence that followed, I heard a phone ring outside and a muffled male voice.

“Hey man, glad you got my text! I’m right outside! Come let me in!”

Of course, I could only hear one side of the conversation, but quickly putting two and two together, I knew that whoever was out there was currently speaking with Tom.

I silently tiptoed the door, still on high alert, but starting to calm down.

“Yeah bro. Yeah. OK. Should I just leave? I feel like an asshole. Do you think she’d let me apologize?”

I recognized the voice. The Drop. That’s why Tom had asked.

“Yeah. Yeah man, OK. Love to you and Charlie! I’ll give you a call in a bit. Yep. OK, bye.”

All was silent for a few moments. I leaned my head against the wood and waited.

And then I heard the voice again from the other side.

“Ummm…hello? Tom said you were probably on the other side of the door by now waiting. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. I’m a friend of Tom’s. He gave me the gate code a few weeks ago. I was shooting in New Mexico and was going to try to make it out here before he left to head back to London. But apparently, I missed him. I sent him a text when I got here…and then he called you to try and warn you in time. Which I guess…didn’t happen. I really never meant to scare you. And I really hope you are on the other side of this door like Tom said…or else I’m going to feel especially stupid for royally fucking up and then apologizing to a door.”

I smiled despite the aftershocks of fear still pulsing in my veins.

Slowly, I unlatched the door and pulled it open.

The unexpected guest was standing in the light of the front porch with his hands in his pockets. When our eyes met, he smiled softly.

“Hi. I’m Matthias.”

Note: I have NO idea where this story came from and I’m not exactly sure what to do with it. Part 2?

@virgosapphire79, @dauntlessmetalmom, @iammarylastar, @son-of-a-bbitch, @lostinvoyage, @vaisabu, @thehound-and-thebird, @dean-67-impala, @bookwarm85, @alexandrajackson93, @darebearxo, @mimigemrose, @hows-my-hair, @nickysurfer28, @queensoybean, @emmysrandomthoughts, @scissor-win-ski, @to-hold-me-and-to-hide-me, @misshyen-deactivated20180214, @inkinterrupted, @captstefanbrandt, @niktwosixteen, @vitaevandal, @b-j-d, @pathybo, @adudewritingpoetry, @angelswannawearmyredshooz, @thestarlighthotel, @beautifulramblingbrains, @erisjade, @bonjourmyloves,  @allnewimaginecharliehunnam, @smoothdogsgirl, @elfwriter1088, @mycapt-ohcapt

[metalindex-hu]

„There were so many songs that were never recorded”

„There were so many songs that were never recorded” - https://metalindex.hu/2021/07/02/there-were-so-many-songs-that-were-never-recorded/ -

When it comes the Canadian metal scene, Rapid Tears is never or at least rarely mentioned. This Toronto based outfit was one of the forerunners of the early Canadian metal movement and delievered catchy Hard Rock/Heavy Metal. Original singer Michael J Miller answered my questions.

Michael, how and when was Rapid Tears established?

That’s a great question! I came up with the name Rapid Tears when I was sixteen years old. I was from a small town and was in another band at the time. In August of 1977 a friend convinced me to go to Toronto to seek my fortune as a guitarist/songwriter. We took a trip on a bus to Toronto for a week not knowing what would happen and during that time I met Rick Nemes. Rick and I had the same sort of goals in mind and he liked my band name Rapid Tears so I decided to move to Toronto to develop Rapid Tears.

Was the line up you and Clayton Bonin on guitars/vocals, Brian Frank on vocals, Adam Sherban on bass and Rick Nemes on drums right from the start?

To put the band together was a very selective process. Rick and I starting running adds for guitarists, bassists and singers. Rick knew a few guys as well to try out that might work. Over the course of about two years through numerous auditions and attempts to work with certain people we finally came up with the winning combination. Rapid Tears was Michael J Miller guitars/vocals, Clayton Bonin guitars/vocals, Brian Frank lead singer, Adam Sherban on bass and Rick Nemes on drums. We were now working on our all original act Rapid Tears!

Did you have any musical experiences prior to Rapid Tears or was it the first band for all of you?

Yes, I had previous experience. I started studying guitar when I was nine. By the time I was fourteen I had my first real band called Touch. I was writing my own songs and we were playing gigs around town.

What were the bands that influenced you a lot?

I grew up in a home that had a lot of music playing either on the record player or TV. The band that had the biggest impact on me was The Beatles. At that time there were many other artists I heard as well but music was really evolving quickly. I think the Helter Skelter and Revolution were the first songs I heard with distorted guitars. After that there was Jimi Hendrix, The Cream, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Black Sabbath. Hence Heavy Metal was on the forefront.

Did you have the same musical taste and interest?

We all grew up on the same music though each indiviual in the band had his own favourites.

Did you have a clear vision of the musical path, that you wanted to follow?

Yes. I always just wrote what came to me and it always had the same hard raw energy.

How do you view or what do you think about that bands such as Rush, Anvil, Rapid Tears, Killer Dwarfs, Triumph, Helix etc. were the earliest Canadian ones and they put the country on the map of metal?

I’m glad that we happened when we did. It’s great to be part of that history!

What do you recall of the mid/late 70’s/early 80’s Toronto scene? How did it come into existence as a whole?

In the mid 70’s Toronto had a thriving rock bar scene that had evolved from the earlier folk & psychedelic rock scene. There were lots of clubs to play at that had a real stage, stage lights and full P.A. system with a soundman. All that made it possible for bands with a heavy sound to get out there and be heard. It was a great time for rock.

Which clubs did start opening their doors for metalheads as a whole?

There was The Gasworks, The Picadilly Tube, Larrys Hideaway, Yonge St. Station, The Nickelodeon, The Knob Hill and Rock & Roll Heaven to name a few.

Was it a healthy underground scene in Toronto at this point?

Toronto or Canada has never been a place that supported its metal scene. A band had to be really good to be allowed to play their original music. A lot of places would only book cover bands.

Brian Frank

What can you tell us about your early rehearsals? Did you start writing originals or were you jamming mostly on covers?

From day one we were working on our original material. A few years later we started playing some cover music just to get more gigs but that didn’t last long as we had released our first album.

In 1979 you entered the Comfort Sound Studios in Toronto to record your first demo. How would you describe this material? Did it really represent what you wanted to achieve the band with?

Very interesting you would know about those early recording sessions! We recorded three impressive songs entitled Androids, Aftermath, Preparation. It was our first time in the recording studio and I think things turned out pretty good in spite of our lack of recording experience. The songs were somewhat progressive. I think we started to tailor our material towards the more straight forward after that.

Your next effort was the Operation Airlift/Tomorrow single released by your own label Guardian Records/GWR Productions. Does it mean, there weren’t any labels interest in the band at this point? Was the demo shopped and spread around to attract any labels interests by the way?

To record those songs we went into a big studio called Sounds Interchange. It was where Black Sabbath had just finished recording their album Never Say Die!. We and our management decided to release it as a 45 rpm before even shopping it.

In 1981 bassist Jon Wein joined the band. Why did you part ways with Adam Sherban?

It was Adam’s own personal decision to leave the band, we didn’t have a problem with him.

How did Jon come into the picture exactly? Was he your first choice or did you audition several bassists before you recruited him?

We had to go through the mill of auditioning a number of bass players before we came across Jon. He seemed to fit the mold best so we stuck with him.

How about his musical background? Did he easily fit in the ranks of the band?

Jon had just returned from L.A. after some recording projects. He seemed to have the experience and he certainly had the desire to join the band.

In 1981 a second single saw the light titled Headbang. Was it a better representation of the band?

Headbang was our commercial offering to the music industry. It did get the point across that we were a rocking band but most of our songs were a bit heavier.

Chameleon Records put this single on the market. Is it correct that it was a small independent label that was operated by Carlene Osborne and Ken Doidge and they were a self-contained organization dedicated to exposing and promoting Canadian talent?

The label and studio was owned by Ken Doidge and Tom Atom. Carlene was an empolyee in the administrative department. They did their best but it takes a lot of money for any label to record and promote an artist properly.

With two newer tunes Discontent Intentions and Heart Of Predestination you appeared on the label’s compilation The Circuit. Were these tracks written exclusively for this material?

Actually, those songs were recorded there as demos before we had a recording contract with Chameleon. In a sense, those demos are what is on the Circuit album and now they are actually on the new release of the Cry For Mercy EP which is released on Sonic Age Records/Cult Metal Classics from Greece.

Did it open any doors for the band? Did you manage to attract the fans’ attention to the band?

I’m not sure what sort of success the Circuit had but it did achieve getting us the contract with Chameleon Records.

Rick Nemes

Do you still remember what kind of a deal did the label offer you? Were you satisfied with the conditions of Chameleon Records?

Yes, I remember the deal. It seemed the best at the time so we just went with it.

How about Attic Record that were based also in Toronto and had Anvil, Dagger, Razor on their roster?

Looking back, I think Attic Records had made us an offer but we had already signed the deal with Chameleon Records.

Do you still remember, when did you start working on your debut album, titled Honestly?

Yes, we began recording 1981. We already had over 50 songs to choose from. We went into the studio and recorded about 15 songs. Chameleon Records chose the songs for the Honestly album. Two other songs were released on The Circuit compilation album.

Because you had a change in the membership, did it put some delay in completing the material?

Yes, when Adam split it was a drag but we fortunately found Jon Wein within a couple of months. We erased Adam’s tracks and Jon redid them.

Most of the songs were written by you and Brian Frank. Does it mean, that you had a definite idea what you wanted to achieve the band with?

Yes. I had a definite idea of what I wanted to achieve. Unfortunately, the production didn’t achieve what I was hoping for.

Didn’t have the opportunity the other guys to conduce with any ideas to the songwriting?

All the other guys had suggestions here and there and they worked very well with me.

At which point did you enter the Cottingham Sound Studios to record the material? What about the recording sessions?

We had actually been in Cottingham sound the year before recording demos but it was in 1981 the album recording began.

How happened, that two tracks, Operation Airlift and Tomorrow have been recorded two years earlier at the Sounds Interchange?

Those songs were recorded previously at the same studio Black Sabbath recorded Never Say Die!. We thought it was a good idea to put them on the album.

How do you explain that on Honestly can be found a colorful mixture of mainly fast, hard, and sometimes very riff-oriented Heavy Metal numbers?

That really was our style. We actually had many more songs in the similar style that were great as well but were never properly recorded.

On the other hand, some songs like Wonderland or Tomorrow have a delicate N.W.O.B.H.M. feeling, right?

I don’t know what that means, but yes, those two songs were a bit more commercial.

Would you say that you were very deeply rooted in the Heavy Rock/Metal of the late 70’s, since the founding of the band dates back to 1977?

Yes, I’ve always like and played heavy guitar music. That is my preference.

Do you think, did the album have everything to be noticed? Was it a strong effort around those times?

It was our first album. I wish it could have been recorded and produced better but we were all just starting out including the engineer, producer and record company. The record label didn’t have enough money to really push the album.

Were there any shows, gigs in support of the record?

Yes, there were a bunch of shows and the record actually got radio airplay which really helped.

Your last release was the Cry for Mercy EP in 1984. Did it much more represent what Rapid Tears were about?

Yes, it was done in a better studio which brought out the heaviness of the band.

Where do you see the differences and similarities compared to Honestly?

The production of Cry for Mercy is much better. We were always heavy though!

Did you offer classy Power Metal on Cry for Mercy, which is much harder than the sound of the debut?

I think it’s a matter of the production that makes it seem that way.

Great riffs, precise drums and a clearly enhanced singer refine hits like Cry for Mercy or Electric Shockwave. What are your thoughts about it?

I was much happier with that album. Still there were so many songs that were never recorded. It’s a real shame!

How do you view, that it isn’t quite as fast as the songs on the debut, but the tracks are all more powerful and in terms of quality another increase?

We had lots of new fast songs but again, the record company chose the songs. Also the budget and time factor is why it was only a four song EP.

In 1985 Rick Nemes quit and joined Lethal Presence, then Infernal Majesty. He was replaced by Steve Letterman; how did he get in the picture exactly and how much time did he spend in the band?

Funny you would know that! Steve only played one show and that was our last show. Sadly!!

Did you record any materials with him?

No.

What were the reasons of the band’s demise? What did all of you do once Rapid Tears broke up?

I really tried to keep it together, but everyone was heading in different directions. I continued to write with Clayton. Also with Brian separately, but no one wanted to continue as Rapid Tears at that time. It was very sad for me!!

Maybe being on what seems like a relatively small label didn’t help you break through and back then that often spelled the end of a promising band…

Anyway. That is what made all the difference. I’m sure that if we had been picked up by a bigger label everything would have turned out quite different.

Mike J Miller in the heayday of Rapid Tears…

What were your views on the Toronto scene at this point, when younger outfits such as Sacrifice, Infernal Majesty, Lethal Presence, Massacre, Dark Legion, Death Militia, Razor, Beyond etc. started trying their wings?

It was kind of a drag having the band break up watching these other guys following in our footsteps.

Do you agree with that Anvil found its greatest popularity outside Canada, as did several of the Heavy Metal bands that followed in the 1980’s?

Toronto has always SUCKED when it comes down to supporting HEAVY METAL. The city is lame and has no respect for its own talent especially HEAVY METAL.

Rapid Tears had a one-off reunion show on September 1, 1986. Can you tell us more about it?

Actually, that was the show with Steve Letterman. One show only!

At the late 90’s you’ve been in Castle Of Pain (including former Infernal Majesty members Rick Nemes and Steve „Psychopath” Russell). How long did this outfit exist? How would you describe it musically?

It was quite heavy and dark. It would have been OK, but it turned out to be a disaster.

Why the band failed to continue? Did you have any material recorded besides the one song demo Dungeon of Doom?

That’s the only one to get released though there were two more songs in the works.

The band also appeared on Overload: A Tribute to Metallica covering King Nothing, correct?

Yes.

What about Adrenalin and Touch?

Touch was my first band from my high school days. When we all finished high school the other guys went to university and I moved to Toronto to start Rapid Tears. Adrenalin was a continuation of my writing efforts. Clayton played on the album, too. That album Dedicated is an excellent album and actually got some proper record label support for a while. That band also fizzled out because of personal problems.

These days you are in your own band MJM with two Hungarian rooted musicians, Zsolt Henczely on bass and Stephany Dudas on vocals, in the ranks…

Yeah, it’s great!

So far you released four albums; can you tell us any details regarding those materials?

With so many failed attempts at making the big times which I blame most of it on band members and record labels, I decided to go solo where I didn’t have to depend on a singer that could screw things up and use my own name that nobody could change. The first MJM album Ascension is half-instrumental, I’m not thrilled with my vocals on that record. The second MJM album Valley of the Kings is a great album. Unfortunately not enough record company support! The third MJM album Instrumental is a compilation of all my guitar-oriented instrumental songs from different albums that I have written. The first song, Resurrection is actually from the Adrenalin Dedicated album. The songs Ascension, Mountain Boogie, Native Sun, Prelude, the Chase & The Dark/Meltdown are from the MJM Ascension album. The songs Medicine Ball & Backstreet are from the Valley of the Kings album. The two songs Mind Warp & Feather were bonus songs released early that are currently on MJM IV, one of my finest pieces of work! You can learn about MJM at www.mjm.global. The MJM Youtube Artist channel is: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtSVmayhMuhmmmb8JCIegbQ or search Michael J Miller band on YouTube. MJM on Facebook is: https://www.facebook.com/mjmrocks.

Michael, thanks a lot for the interview! What are your closing words for our readers?

Dear readers, thank you for your interest in Rapid Tears! If God willing, there will be another Rapid Tears album. If you are a musician, practice hard, learn how to write songs and how to record! Do it for the love of music but the music business might not love you back! Being in the music business without proper record company support is like trying to pull a two ton wagon up a mountain with no help. Try your hardest! Praise God! Michael J Miller, MJM

…and now

[the-stars-system-blog]

Seven Stars in a system. UPDATED 7.2019

Hi! We’re the Stars System! My name’s Mitch and I’ll be taking you on a guided tour of the mindscape!

EDIT 2019: with some recent additions(and incentives to use this tumblr more often), we've taken the liberty of editing this post with our two newest members.

I’ll start with our fierce protector, Max. He’s sweet at heart, but he can knock you down to protect his friends. He’s got the body's name and birthday, and for how early in the year it comes, it's a neat reminder to us about the passage of time. He cares about all of us and is a little overprotective, but hey. We’ve dealt with it all our lives. You can too. Sidenote: we will make official posts when our birthdays come, from whoever's out at the time. # maxrants

Next up, I present to you Harp. She and I are the twins here. Not literal twins, but the closest pair in this mindscape. She’s super creative, always has a song on her mind, and whenever she’s out in the body she’s singing something. # harpsichord

But she’s not the one who writes songs. Vi does most of that. She’s really good, too. She doesn’t have anything published yet, but she’s composing an ep for us. Usually, she’s quiet. She’s our wordless one. But when you get comfortable with her, she’s a lot more open. She’s cautious, and is careful not to hurt any of us, but when left alone she is a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure. Some might label her more akin to a Virgil, which I tend to on occasion agree with. Right down to the color palettes. # ultraviolet

But there are some brains to this operation. That comes in the form of Data. They’re quite analytical, almost robotic in a way. They’re the lonely journal keeper, though they take umbrage to that, seeing as they’re neither lonely, nor a journal keeper. Yet, they are a record keeper, so the title still fits. Do not interfere with the work of someone the likes of them without a really good reason. # data'sjournal

Data has a second in command: their name is Doll. They’re not exactly comfortable talking to other people yet, but when they do, it’s an argument ender. They’re our peacekeeper, as I call them. They dispel arguments within our own head, and even outside if we have to. They’re a real sweetheart, trust me, I know this. # maryonette

Then we have our wild child, and recent came-to-terms-with-being-a-persecutors, Emerald. She is always bouncing off the walls and can get quite rowdy when she’s out in the body. We usually save her energy reserves for a party, or any other event where we need to be social. She’s our Barry Bluejeans, the charming lover. I’m glad we have someone to rely on in those situations when we need her. # emeraldgreen

Now we're getting into our newer additions! Just because they haven't been around all that long, doesn't make them any less supported or welcomed. First up is Nine, they're a sweetheart, careful not to screw things up, and their sunlight shines through to all of us. Plus, they make a killer cup of tea if you ask them kindly enough. # nineofthoughts

And we have a system pet now, too. His name is Rylan, and he's attached at the hip to Violet, who adores him so. They're so cute, if only I could get photos in the headspace! # rydesign

And you met me at the top of the page! My name’s Mitch. I’m the optimistic one, and I’m the one out most of the time. Sure, you’ll get writing from all nine of us at some point, identified by the tags I’ve put after their paragraphs. Mine is # skybluehighlights after my favorite color. I hope to hear from all of you soon!