#Did he willingly choose to carry her in a position that could lead to standing sex... no

[soulflatter]

He really can't take it anymore, the goading she utters, the taunts, the body before him. Yuzuki's losing his mind at this point, how long can one man just, try to ease a situation on without losing his grip on restraint.

No, if he continues to let her whirl him around, he'll be twisted around her finger for hours. It's not a bad feeling, but he really can't let go of his ego and pride.

He finally decides to act, as much as she pushes against him, his clothes, her clothes, they have to go. A finger pulls down her bra, freeing her chest to be groped directly. Another hand finally pulls his underwear and pants down as well, freeing that hard part of him that she's been so cruelly teasing.

His own top could be shrugged off now at this point, the two of them so easily removing what last vestiges of clothing that might get in his way. It might even be a little cute how eagerly he moves suddenly, not saying too much more, trying not to get caught up in her word games.

With most of it off, his hands move to pull her panties down too, things have accelerated and for a brief moment, he spreads her legs, and things are only inches away.

Then the door rings.

There's a voice outside, "Hey open up Dad! I'm home, I thought I'd drop off some left overs for you before we head out again." The knocking continues, and keys can be heard inserting into the door.

"No way.. my daughter's here!?" He stands up quick, looking around. Though both of them are nearly stripped, most of their clothing is still on their bodies at least. Just pulled down or moved out of place...

If they just...

"Quick here." Panic sets in, he instinctively pulls Kal up into his arms, hands on her hear, he carries her in a rather intimate position facing him. He rushes out of sight, to a closet he knows she never checks.

As the door opens, and someone walks in calling for him. The two of them are stuck in a curious position. Stuck in a closet, pressed against each other, nothing really covering the important bits between them.

Of course, he's still hard, and their parts are touching given his curious carrying position. "Shh..."

"Don't move too much...she'll leave soon, idiot coming home early..."

❝ Do as I say, not as I do. ❞ A phrase Doctor Kal'tsit is all too familiar with. She lectured her trainees on maintaining personal and work relationships separate from one another. And yet, here she is. Fraternizing with a former patient of hers. Will the headaches never cease? No, of course not. It was just the beginning of stress headaches and gritted teeth around his obstinate man. ❝ Are you attempting the innocent card? It won't work on me. ❞ The feline interrogates, miniscule fangs peeking beneath her lips as she converses.

He is... insufferable. Then again, so is she.

Emerald irises peer unflinchingly into his garnet ones, narrowing. She could feel his fingers digging into her raised knee, as the rubbing continues. He's quite hard through the confines of his clothing. It comes as no surprise to the medic, either. Not even when his other hand cups her chest, pushing against the fabric and underwire more.

What's holding him back from simply hooking his fingers in the seams and liberating her breasts? She holds back a dry chuckle, but a smirk manages to flit across rosen tiers.

❝ So what if it is? Your body isn't far-off, either. I can feel the hardness against my knee, straining for liberation. ❞ Uncouth words leave her mouth.

Professionalism has left the building ages ago. It's now a battle of wiles.

With renewed vigor, she wiggles a little lower and a little closer. A free hand grips at Yuzuki's shirt, tugging viciously at the garment --- fingers sliding underneath to touch bare skin.

❝ It's true. I did come for that. ❞ If he expected an ounce of shame or embarrassment from the feline, well... it wasn't happening. ❝ And you seem so eager to quell that sputtering flame within. Am I wrong? ❞ Perhaps she's purposely rubbing him a little faster.

[shimurah]

THE PAST NEVER FORGETS

this chapter outright stated a message this arc and story overall send. the league are results of the hero society's deeds and 290 focuses solemnly on one character.

it starts off, unlike everything we've seen so far, a dabi that we never quite saw. sitting with his head bowed in his head, dabi is bracing for the vulnerability he is to expose. he isn't just exposing his father, he is exposing the very deep of himself. weighting all the possible ways his message will be received, the knowledge that there are many chances of not being belived, of being mocked, attacked, etc. in spite of his worry he doesn't back off and drives into who is dabi and how he come to be this way.

the dabi the public eye is used to is this: the notorious 'terrorist' from the league of villains. he is known - which was intentional on dabi's part. it makes sense that dabi would want attention drawn to himself, he's never been shown as trying to hide who he is not, not really. from the moment we see him, he specifically used language that doesn't even suggest, outright tells, dabi is a name he goes by now. looking at his outfit as well, he was carrying the hair dye remover (?) from that moment. he has been ready for this moment the whole time.

he recorded in advance, planned in-depth not only the way he faces his endeavor but the world as well. there is a critical importance in the way the society will take the message, it's crucial that they believe what he is saying in order to destroy endeavour's career. dabi starts with something they are aware of or suppose of him, that he is not innocent. he states having killed more than 30 innocent people, there would be no point in denying in any sense. 1. a big influence in dabi's killings is endeavour. to ruin endeavour reputation, he first had to create the villain he is now. 2. it's true that he not once tried to mask dabi, actually thrilled for being recognized as THE dabi. his notoriously would make it more than difficult for him to play the act of the innocent victim now, which he never even tried to.

why would dabi go for being a villain, with the knowledge that the chances of him being taken seriously are small? did he acknowledge that even as a favorable type of victim his credibility against endeavor's is lower to the ground? personally, i think he made all of his decisions with a clear eye, all plausibilities being taken & judged through and through. by stepping into the shoes of a villain, the scum of the society, his chances spectacularly lower. but by doing so, he is free to rightfully avenge himself.

greed for power, something that as dabi says can lead men into unimaginable depths. endeavour had willingly chosen, not forced by anybody, to walk that path. taking a wife by force even, using her as a tool to create more tools to satisfy himself. what he would do to achieve this can be summoned into one simple word. anything.

dabi was abused both physically and emotionally. a bad constitution that was in the way of him reaching the place his father wanted. the frustration he every day had to go through, likely blaming himself for it, and adding to the mix the way endeavour would encourage him to push his own limits to achieve something greater than himself. the training was something deeply toxic, you simply don't force a kid through something like that. we have seen how it scarred shoto, someone who unlike dabi, had nothing standing in the way of endeavour's goal.

if dabi was an almost perfect, shoto was THE perfect. there is great pressure on the perfect yes, no denying, but there is great pressure on the almost perfect as well. their trauma is equal, dabi's trauma is just as valid as shoto and vice versa. and while their siblings didn't go through the training, their trauma is just as equal.

dabi lived with the knowledge that the only thing he was "created" for was his father's selfish dream. abused children often wonder the reason their parents brought them into this world, why do they exist besides to suffer. as a child, it is absolutely excepted and understandable to desire parental love. even if dabi hated what endeavour put him through, in his heart he would wish to become what his father wanted in order to achieve his love. did he wonder if making endeavour happy would result in his father changing and coming to love him? did he have to grow up and watch that idea shatter, to be tossed aside as something no longer useful, a broken thing?

such things are not something he could simply let go of, even if he was out of that place. like adults no longer in the abusive, toxic environments, that still carry the effects of the abuse they went through. dabi simply cannot move past it, it is not something one is to be asked or excepted to do.

endeavour, on the other hand, is living the dream. even before becoming the no 1, the perfect heir was on his move to the top. he successfully trained shoto into a promising tool that will eventually fulfill the dream and had to watch himself rise in the position he always wanted. it is easy for him to decide to move on, forget of the past, leave everything where they belong. but the past didn't decide that, the past came back to him. he is forced to now deal with the consequences he avoided and denied.

the past never forgets. even if endeavour tossed dabi aside and let him become a past, and then attempted to leave him altogether in the past.

facing one's consequences, often thrown in arguments against the league but i firmly believe in the difference between the two situations. saying they are the same is false. endeavour & the hero society planted the seeds not willed by anybody but themselves.

the league & dabi were forced into reacting. a hand forced is not the same as a hand willingly pushing said hand. the league is more than encouraged to react back, and while not all of their acts have been agreeable, i still stand by that. the flaw is in hrksh's intentional writing, which i won't be driving into as others discussed it very well.

dabi's goal to kill shoto once shoto reached the age and the top is something you cannot deny to be a response to the abuse. is it alright? no, not by any means. there is a complexity here, into which you can't drive in without remembering you are talking about child abuse victims. abuse responses aren't black and white, good and bad. dabi isn't inherently selfish or evil for thinking that.

dancing together in hell, falling together gathered all types of reactions. does dabi intend to die is the question. after some time of thinking, i dare to think and hope that won't be the case. it's true that dabi is in a bad condition, true that his phrasing is suggestive. but from a narrative, logical view, which i ABSOLUTELY don't claim to be hrksh's style up until now, that would be deeply disappointing and sad. a tragedy that would not serve. it's early to speak but for now i personally choose to believe dabi is going to live to at least completely reach his goal. endeavour is an important piece yesm but he is, still, a piece in dabi's game.

[irishseeeker]

rules don’t apply - chapter four

Having a crush on your boss is embarrassing. Inappropriate. Wrong. Especially when your boss is Anthony Bridgerton, the most insufferable man on the planet whom you actively despise.

What does Kate have to say on the matter?

…No comment.

–

read chapter 1 here or here

read chapter 2 here or  here

read chapter 3: here or here

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chapter 4: guess who’s coming to brunch

-----

“Edwina!”

Edwina was completely soaked after falling straight into the pond. She was treading water, shrieking slightly as she gasped for air. The pond was deep enough that she couldn’t stand. Anthony reached her before Kate could.

“I’ll help her-”

“I’ve got her.” Anthony interrupted, extending his hand towards Edwina who gratefully let herself be pulled up.

Newton was happily paddling away in the pond, managing to keep himself above the water.

Kate nearly took out her phone to take a picture because he looked so cute but she didn’t think Edwina or Anthony would appreciate that.

“Newton, come here!” Kate kneeled down and gestured towards her corgi, who, of course, completely ignored her.

“I’m so sorry, Ed. I didn’t think he’d launch himself at you like that.” Kate wrapped her puffy black coat around Edwina’s shivering arms, running her hands up and down her to warm her up. Water was dripping down her face, her mascara now a black smudge around her eyes.

“Thank you, Anthony,” Edwina said, her voice shaking slightly as she shivered in Kate’s arms. She led her to the nearby bench, sitting her down. Anthony followed them but didn’t sit, lingering beside them.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked, his face full of concern as he looked Edwina up and down. “You’re shivering. Here, take this.”

Edwina’s denim jacket was clinging to her skin and her hair was wet with a few leaves stuck in it. She pulled on Anthony’s hoodie, nodding thanks as she covered herself with Kate’s coat again. “What the bloody hell was that, Kate?”

“I’m sorry! I thought you’d move out of the way-he was running right at you!” Kate frowned as she could see Edwina’s teeth were chattering from the ice cold pond. “Why didn’t you move?”

Edwina tried her best to glare at her sister, but being one of the happiest people Kate knew, her glare more resembled a pout. “I thought Newton was just saying hello! I didn’t think he’d launch himself at me and attack me for a bagel in my hand.”

“He didn’t mean to! He recognized you and probably thought you were playing,” Kate said, biting her lip. “He’s just a dog.”

“He’s certainly something alright,” Anthony said, scoffing rather loudly as crossed his arms across his chest. He looked like a teacher from school just before they scolded you. His brows were furrowed, his mouth was in a flat line and he was looking at her intensely.

It would have been unsettling if it didn’t make Kate absolutely furious.

She just glared at him. “No one asked you.”

Kate didn’t wait for Anthony to reply, turning to Edwina who was looking between the two of them with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “I’ll go get Newton. I’ll be right back.”

Kate walked to the edge of the pond, getting rid of her hoodie and runners before dipping her foot into the baltic pond water to test the temperature. There was only one way Newton was leaving that pond. He wouldn’t come out willingly.

“You can’t be serious.” Of course he had followed her. She turned around to see Anthony staring at her incredulously, his upper lip curled up in disdain. It was a look she was familiar with, it was always plastered on his face during meetings in work. “You’re not going in after that thing.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m going in after him, he won’t come out otherwise!”

Anthony mumbled something under his breath that Kate didn’t hear, reaching down to take off his black runners. “I’ll get him.”

“No you will not,” Kate insisted, bending down to try and get Newton’s attention. He was still paddling away, completely ignoring them. “I’m going in.”

“No,” Anthony rebutted, taking off his t-shirt which made Kate audibly gasp and turn away from him. She had not been expecting that, especially so close. “I’m not letting you.

“First of all, you don’t let me do anything. Secondly, use your ego inflating chivalry somewhere else. It is not wanted here.” Kate shook her head. “Put your t-shirt back on for god’s sake.”

“I’ve trained for and swam a part of the English Channel before. Clothes will just drag you down and make you colder when you get out. I know what I’m doing.” His arrogance usually made Kate’s blood boil, but at this point it was about she was ready to comitt murder.

“You’ll freeze. I’m going in, Kate. That’s the end of the discussion,” Anthony said in an auhtoriatize tone, one that she had heard so many times in work and it was not one outside of work she responded well to.

“No, this is the end of the discussion” Kate took the plunge and slid quickly into the pond, beginning to flap her limps around as the bitter shock hit her body. Kate let out a string of expletive curses that Mary would slap her for.

It was absolutely baltic.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anthony shouted at her, but the idiot had jumped in right after her and was treading water beside her.

Newton heard the splashes and looked positively delighted to see Kate and Anthony swimming, splashing as he made his way towards them.

“You shouldn’t have followed me in-”

“I was trying to help you! You shouldn’t have gotten in in the first place. If you had held your dog properly, none of this would have happened.”

“Do you think I did this on purpose?” Do you really think this is how I wanted to spend my Sunday morning?”

“You shouldn’t have a pet if you can’t control it,” Anthony said, his voice seething as they swam towards Newton. “Which, after today’s events, you have certainly proven.”

“I can control him!” Kate weakly responded, having absolutely no comeback. So, she splashed him.

His jaw dropped, droplets of water dripping down his face. “Did you just splash me?”

“Yes.”

His glare intensified. “How old are you again?”

Kate smirked at him. “29. I’m sorry, this must be so hard for you. Talking to a woman over the age of twenty five.”

He splashed her back.

“Ha, ha, ha,” He said, mocking her voice as he grabbed Newton who had swam close enough to them. They both eagerly retreated towards the shore. “Did you think of that one all by yourself?”

They both got out of the pond, choosing to ignore the few people passing by who were staring at them. Kate was too cold to be mortified. Anthony pulled his t-shirt back on and Kate hated herself for feeling slightly disappointed.

They were absolutely soaking and the cool breeze made them shiver more. Anthony gripped Newton’s lead tightly and lay the dog gently onto the path.

Kate smiled sweetly at him, squeezing the excess water out of her soaking t-shirt that was clinging to her skin and stepping towards Edwina. “Newton, shake.”

Newton, who actually decided to do something he was told for once, shook his chubby body and his fur stood up on its coat, water spraying all over Anthony and the path.

“Thanks for that,” He spat, glaring at her as he smirked at her. “Now I smell like a pond and wet dog.”

“You’re so welcome.”

They were looking right at each other, both refusing to break eye contact. She watched as a drop of water fell from his hair, trailing down his nose, making its way all the way to his lips.

She couldn’t stop herself from staring at his lips.

She swore, for a second, she saw his eyes drop to hers.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever is going on here.” Edwina smiled uneasily, glancing between her sister and Anthony who were glaring intensely at each other. She had stood up from the bench and was now standing in front of them. “We should probably go home and take a shower before we freeze to death. There’s a lot of people staring.”

“Capital idea,” Kate said, nodding her head at her sister and taking her hand. “Let’s go right now.”

“Please come to my house for a shower,” Anthony suggested, wrapping his arms around himself.

“No thank you,” Kate said swiftly, gesturing for her sister to follow her. “We’re going home.”

Anthony let out a deep breath through his nostrils. “How far do you live from here?”

It was a twenty minute tube ride and Edwina was at least half an hour. “Near enough.”

“Well, my house is across the road from the park, about two minutes from here.”

“Thank you so much Anthony. We would really appreciate it, wouldn’t we Kate?” Edwina elbowed her with a look and Kate knew she had lost the argument.

The last place she wanted to go was Anthony Bridgerton’s house.

Kate nudged her lead softly, but Newton wouldn’t budge. Edwina and Anthony had already started walking ahead, Anthony placing the lead in Kate’s hand.

Kate begrudgingly went to follow, but Newton refused to move.

“Oh, so now you want to stay put?” Kate said, looking down at Newton who kept himself firmly planted on the ground. He actually had the nerve to roll onto his back, baring his teeth to her.

Her dog was laughing at her.

To be fair, her life was a joke.

“Excellent timing, truly,” She picked him up, carrying him like a newborn baby. Newton was very pleased with himself, wagging his tail happily with his tongue sticking out. “You couldn’t have done this earlier?”

Anthony had been telling the truth, his house was across the road from the park. In one of the most expensive parts of London. The house was huge, a brown brick London townhouse painted ivory. He typed in a code into the gate keypad, the gate beginning to open a few moments later. The three drenched individuals walked up to the stone steps, Anthony stepping forward to unlock the green front door with his key.

The house was beautiful. The high ceilings and cream carpets made the foyer glow, a shimmering chandelier right in the middle of it. There was a glass table in the middle of the foyer, covered in family photographs.

This was the type of house Mary would tell her not to touch anything in.

“Does your mother mind dogs?” Kate asked, holding a half asleep Newton against her chest. He had tired himself out after his eventful morning.

“No. However, I’m not sure what that is,” Anthony replied, glaring at the corgi in her arms.

“Newton should have drowned you when he had the chance,” Kate muttered, and Edwina gasped from beside her.

“Kate!”

“Anthony?” Violet Bridgerton appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling at the three damp individuals at her doorway. “Oh my-what happened to you three?”

“Hello, Mum. We had an incident in Hyde Park. I believe you have met Edwina and Kate Sheffield?”

“It is so lovely to see you again,” Violet kissed both their cheeks, ushering them inside and closing the door behind her. “Oh, you’re all soaked. Anthony can show you upstairs for a shower. I’ll grab you both some clothes and we’ll wash those for you.”

“Oh my gosh,” A tall teenager appeared in the hallway, gasping as she spotted the dog in Kate’s arms and sprinted towards them. Kate hadn’t met this Bridgerton before. She had blue eyes and chestnut hair, strikingly similar to Anthony. “Did we get a dog?”

Violet and Anthony both sighed, “No.”

“How disappointing,” The girl replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “Why are you all wet?”

“Hyacinth, manners,” Her mother scolded her, widening her eyes at her daughter. “This is Kate and Edwina Sheffield. This is my daughter, Hyacinth.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Hyacinth said, smiling at the sisters but her attention was solely on Newton. She scratched his ears and he whined happily.

Kate smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind dogs in your house. He’s completely harmless, he’s rather tired actually.”

Anthony snorted loudly beside them.

Kate wouldn’t hit her boss in front of his mother.

“Oh, not at all. We love dogs,” Violet said, smiling reassuringly at Kate.

It was Hyacinth’s turn to snort. It was obvious looks were not all she shared with her older brother. “What breed is he?”

Kate smiled at the younger girl. “He’s mostly corgi, but there’s a mix of something else in him. The shelter wasn’t sure what breed though. I adopted him when he was a puppy.”

“Demon, perhaps?” Anthony suggested, turning to smile serenely at Kate.

“Let's get you upstairs,” Violet said, casting a glare at her eldest son as she ushered Edwina and Kate towards the stairs.

“I can take him while you’re gone.” Hyacinth insisted, gleefully taking Newton out of Kate’s arms and wandering back down the hallway out of sight.

They were led up a black staircase with a golden railing to the third floor, to a long hallway full of doors. There at least two more floors above them. Her flat’s building wasn’t even this big.

“Now, Edwina dear, if you go in there. Here’s some clothes and all the towels and linens are in the bathroom,” Violet said, gesturing towards a doorway before turning to Kate. “If you just go into the room next door, Kate dear. Please just shout if there’s anything I can get you.”

“Thank you so much, we seriously appreciate it.” Kate smiled at Anthony’s mother, who turned around to head back downstairs.

“I have a lot of questions, but if I don’t shower first, I might die of hypothermia,” Edwina said, shivering slightly as she opened the door to her bedroom. “To be continued, Kate!”

Kate’s shower was euphoric. The warm water soothed her freezing skin and she washed her hair with the fanciest shampoo and conditioner she had ever used. She had no idea where it was from, but the label was in french and it looked expensive.

She quickly dressed in the cream jumper and joggers left out for her, which fit perfectly.

Kate wanted to delay going downstairs as much as possible, in case Edwina still wasn’t finished and she was left alone with the Bridgertons.

They seemed like perfectly nice people, but they were related to Anthony, and Kate really needed to work on putting as much distance between them as possible.

She had spent the entire weekend distraught over an article about them and she had spent her morning with him, and had ended up in his family home.

Which she was currently snooping around. She had a look through some of the drawers, through the vanity but it appeared to be a guest room. Kate got bored quite quickly, wondering if Edwina was finished. There was a door that appeared to be adjoining between the bedrooms.

“Edwina?” Kate said softly, knocking slowly on the door. Edwina must be done by now. Kate slowly opened the door, expecting to see her sister.

Instead, it led to a half naked Anthony Bridgerton, with a towel wrapped around his waist, freshly showered. His abdominal muscles were defined, easily traceable through the six pac on his chest. She could see the colourful veins protruding out of his muscular arms.

“What the-”

All Kate could do was gape at him. “I’m so sorry!” She squeaked, hastily shutting the door behind her and groaning.

Kate ran for her life.

She grabbed her bag, sprinting down the twirling staircase as fast as she could. She had to find Newton and Edwina immediately.

Kate followed the hallway off the foyer Hyacinth had disappeared down with Newton. At the end of the hallway, there were two large white double doors. Kate could hear voices, so she pushed through.

The room was full of people. She recognized Benedict and Colin, who were chatting animatedly with a girl Kate presumed was their younger sister on the sofa.

Edwina, freshly showered and radiant as ever despite her previous dip in the pond, was sitting on the couch with Gregory and Hyacinth, who was fawning over Newton in her lap.

“Thank you so much for everything,” Kate said, nodding her head at Edwina as she turned to Violet. “We won’t burden you any longer, we’ll get out of your hair.”

Violet Bridgerton smiled warmly at Kate. “Not at all. Please, you must stay for brunch! The whole family is here! The more the merrier.”

Kate glanced at Edwina, who shrugged with a mimosa in her hand. Her sister didn’t look like she was going anywhere.

The door opened behind her, revealing Anthony now dressed in a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. His hair was still wet, droplets dampening his shirt.

“We wouldn’t want to intrude on a family gathering,” Kate said, desperately trying to think of an excuse to get out of this situation. She had seen her boss topless twice today, she wouldn’t look him in the eye again.

“You’re not intruding.” It wasn’t Violet who spoke but Anthony, his deep voice sending tingles down her spine.

“Excellent!” Violet clapped her hands, smiling at Kate before something behind Kate caught her attention. “Hyacinth! Stop feeding that dog our breakfast!”

Anthony walked past her, reaching for a glass of orange juice on the kitchen table before walking towards his brothers. Kate followed him with her eyes until she saw the brunch spread. Their table was set out as if it was Christmas. There were candles, napkins and plates full of food. She had never seen so much food in her life. There were pancakes, bacon, toast and every type of egg prepared every way.

“You look like you need a drink,” A voice to Kate’s right said, which belonged to a petite woman. “I’m Eloise. Mimosa?”

“Please,” Kate said, smiling at her as she gladly took the orange champagne flute. “I’m Kate. It's nice to meet you.”

“Oh I know who you are,” Eloise said, rather smugly as she grinned at Kate. “My dear brother talks about you quite a lot, Kate Sheffield.”

“Pardon?” Kate choked on her drink, coughing to clear her throat as she stared at Eloise. Why would Anthony talk about her? Benedict and Colin had said the same thing in his office a few days ago.

Whatever he said about her, she imagined it wasn’t anything good.

Eloise just smirked, clinking her glass against Kate’s as Violet announced it was time to eat. “Shall we?”

Brunch was going better than expected.

The Bridgertons were fun. It was strange to be in a room with so many people, to watch a large family interact. There was never any silence, everyone was talking and laughing.

It was rather lovely.

Kate and Edwina had grown up with just their parents and since the loss of their father, it had just been them and Mary. They didn’t have any immediate family, their fathers parents were dead and Mary was estranged from her family.

Violet had insisted Kate sit with Anthony on her left and Edwina on her right. Colin was sitting on her right. Colin had muttered something about his mother’s matchmaking attempts, which made Edinwa blush and Kate down her mimosa.

Kate had been introduced to the rest of the Bridgertons she hadn’t met yet. There was Eloise, who was funny but made Kate slightly uneasy. She kept smirking at her. She was 21 and studying History and English at Oxford. She was very opinionated, happily calling her brothers or sisters out on anything she didn’t agree with. Kate could only dream of having her confidence. She was rather brilliant.

Her elder sister was Daphne, who was 25 and made her living off instagram and Youtube. Kate didn’t really use social media, when she did it was mainly to post pictures of Newton. Daphne showed Kate her page, which was the perfect aesthetic. Every picture had the perfect pose and ideal background. Daphne was beautiful and she knew how to attract a following. She had a following of a few million combined on both of her platforms, where she regularly collaborated with brands for sponsorships and advertisements.

Hyacinth was the youngest Bridgerton, with a sharp tongue and a funny sense of humour. Kate already loved her. She was obsessed with Newton, insisting he sit on her lap during the meal and feeding him bits when her mother wasn’t looking, winking at Kate in the process.

It made Anthony laugh.

Kate realized she had never heard him genuinely laugh before.

It was rather lovely.

She had never seen him like this before. He was so eaze around his family. He was happy. He was relaxed, his shoulders were dropped and he didn't look rigid or stressed.

The only Bridgerton missing was Francesca, who was visiting a friend in Scotland.

The table erupted into laughter as Edwina told everyone of the events of that morning, despite Kate’s mortification and Anthony’s fury.

They sounded insane.

“You two make quite the pair,” Benedict said, smirking at Kate and Anthony from across the table. He looked quite delighted with himself.

“How’s your love life, Ben?” Anthony asked, smirking at his brother as he took a sip of his coffee and lay back in his chair. He glanced around the table, daring any of his siblings to tease further.

“So, Kate,” Eloise said, looking at her from across the table. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Oh.” Kate felt her cheeks darken as everyone’s eyes on the table turned towards her. She really didn’t like being the centre of attention. She used to vomit before any public speaking competitions when she was younger. She still got anxious before meetings at work. “I’ve been working at Bridgerton & Family for five years. I have an unstable corgi. There’s not much to tell.”

“Kate has always been the smart one and incredibly modest,” Edwina interrupted, nudging her sister. “She went to Oxford on a scholarship to study business. My parents and I are incredibly proud.”

“That’s incredible, Kate. They must be so proud of the both of you! What do your parents do?” Violet asked Kate, glaring at Gregory who flicked some scrambled eggs at Hyacinth. Hyacinth was too busy feeding Newton bacon under the table to notice.

Kate felt that usual uneasiness spread through her stomach. “My mother is a primary school teacher. My father was an accountant. He died when we were eighteen.”

Silence washed over the table and Kate felt Edwina’s hand squeeze hers under the table. If anyone would understand about losing a father, it was the Bridgertons. They quickly erupted into conversation again.

Anthony turned towards her, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Kate shrugged. “It’s okay. Why would you?”

There was an uneasy silence between Kate and Anthony as they just stared at each other. Kate broke their eye contact, glancing down at her plate.

Eventually, Kate and Edwina stood up to leave as brunch came to an end. Benedict had already left to go to a party and Eloise was nagging Daphne for a lift to the train station to go back to Oxford.

Violet, Anthony and Daphne walked them to the door after they said their goodbyes. Kate had given Hyacinth her number, promising she could walk Newton whenever she wanted if her mum allowed her to. “Girls, I would love it if you and your mother could join us for the long weekend in two weeks. We’re having friends and family over for a party in our house in the country, in Kent.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Edwina said, smiling widely at Kate, Daphne and Violet. The girls had been attached at the hip for most of the afternoon, talking about their careers and the fashion world. Kate had overheard them making plans for drinks sometime this week. Daphne looked delighted at her mother’s invitation.

Anthony? Not so much. He was glaring intensely at his mother, his lips in their usual disgruntled flat line.

“That’s very kind of you,” Kate said slowly, panic flooding her body. She did love the country, but not Anthony Bridgerton’s country house. “I-I’ll have to check my work calendar. We’re very busy this time of year.”

“Excellent! Anthony will make sure you get the time off.” It didn’t sound like a request, Kate was figuring out pretty quickly Violet Bridgerton didn’t ask questions she didn’t already know the answer to.

Anthony walked them to the bottom of the steps, Edwina saying goodbye as she stepped into their uber, leaving them alone.

“I-”

“Kate-”

They spoke at the same time and laughed uncomfortably, insisting the other go first until Anthony spoke.

“The reason I wanted to speak to you this morning was because of the article. I really did want to make sure you were okay. I know that type of attention, when unwanted, is extremely uncomfortable. I’m sorry I indirectly caused it. I didn’t think anyone would see us that night. Not that there was anything to see.”

Kate was momentarily speechless as his words sunk in. “Thank you. I-I know none of it was your fault. I shouldn’t have said that. I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier and how rude I was. There's no excuse, I've just had a weird few days. Thank you for jumping into the pond for Edwina and Newton.”

Anthony stared at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t jump into that pond for Edwina or Newton, Kate.”

Her heart stopped beating in her chest. What?

With that, Anthony turned around and walked away from her, jogging up his steps before he went into his house and closed the door behind him. Kate was left speechless and stunned on the path.

Kate eventually turned around and climbed into the Uber, still processing his words as they drove off and the Bridgerton’s home faded into the background.

Edwina turned towards her sister, leaning towards her. “Kate. What the hell is going on between you and Anthony Bridgerton?”

Kate felt her head fall back against the seat. “I have absolutely no idea.”

[justfandomwritings]

United in Fear (Part Four - Soulmate!Robb)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader; Soulmates AU

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: This chapter depicts a ‘bedding ceremony’. Which is a ceremony in the GoT universe that involves a group of men stripping a woman naked on her wedding night and shouting obscene things at her. The reader’s character is disturbed by said ceremony in the story, though it is not described in what I would deem a disturbingly graphic manner for readers, nor is the practice glorified in any way. 

There is also a separate scene involving nudity and a sexual situation (sexual situation, not sex) which is fully and unambiguously consensual.

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Notes: So, this chapter does have warnings. If you choose to read it, please read it informed of what is coming. If you’re looking for a ‘rating’ of how extreme or graphic I would class this, then my answer would be “if you watched these scenes in Game of Thrones, none of them come close to how disturbing the show could get at times” 

Oh also... Um note before you read.... I’m not a huge fan of Bran’s character at any point in the series soooo.... yeah. 

Start From the Beginning… Part One

Previously On... Part Three

“Son.”

Robb looked up to see his father standing in the door. His appearance was a sign of what was to come.

In Winterfell, the Starks had very little use for fine, Southern clothes. Such garments were impractical for daily use, and what was impractical for daily use was never bothered with when meeting Northern Lords. Even the King, for all the pomp of his arrival, had only seen the Starks clean up their usual appearance. Sansa had worn one of her nicer dresses in hopes of meeting the princes, but none of the others had actually dressed up for the occasion.

The fine leather tunic, embossed with a running direwolf across the chest, which graced Ned Stark now was a piece Robb had never seen his father wear. Perhaps, he had never worn it before at all. Robb had certainly never worn the fine fur cloak around his shoulders nor the polished boots covering his feet.

“Are you ready?” Ned looked Robb over once.

“I wish Sansa could go in my stead,” Robb confessed. His head hung as he left his rooms.

Ned hummed in agreement, “I know. I wish you did not have to witness this.”

“You did not marry your mate either.” Robb pointed out.

Ned nodded confirmation, “Yes, that is true.”

“But you moved on?” Robb’s tone was questioning, hopeful.

From a young age, Robb knew his parents were not soulmates. His father had been the one to explain the name on his arm to him, and Ned had to tell Robb, rather frankly, that there was a chance he would never meet her and would almost certainly never have her. Ned Stark had been right on one of those counts, and Robb would have to accept it just as his parents had.

“I will not pretend moving on was something I did willingly.” Ned gave a heavy sigh, “It is hard to give up on the idea of a perfect life, a perfect love; but for most of us life is not meant to be that easy. You have been given a particularly hard life to lead, but the gods have given you this life for a reason. They have shown you her for a reason, and they have taken her for a reason. Finding happiness, after meeting her, will be difficult, but it is not impossible.”

Robb paused in his step, and Ned carried on another pace before he stopped and turned back to his son. “You,” Robb hesitated, “You speak from experience.” Robb never knew his father had met his mate. The name, not that Robb had ever read it, was still on his father’s arm.

Ned seemed to think for a long moment before he spoke, “I was once where you are now. I stood in a sept and watched my soulmate marry another man.”

“Where is she now?” Robb asked.

Ned didn’t answer. He turned away and waited for Robb to come back to his side before the pair walked on without another word.

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The Sept of Winterfell was a small one. It had been built by Ned Stark for his new wife, Catelyn, as a gift, and had rarely been used by anyone but the Lady of Winterfell. Shoulder to shoulder, it comfortably held only sixteen, fifteen if one of those was Robert Baratheon.

The King’s only joy in being slighted by the Lannister’s had been in Tywin’s rush to marry off his daughter. Lady (Y/n), a Lannister bride as worthy of the Sept of Baelor as Princess Myrcella herself, would be forced to marry in the miniscule stone hut of a sept that heard the praises of only one woman and saw none of the splendor accustomed to (Y/n)’s station. Robert had revelled in the thought.

While even the Great Lion could not build a newer, more worthy sept in time, Tywin Lannister never truly lost. Even this small ceremony, this disadvantage, this insult to their wealth and grandeur, had proven to be to the Lannister’s benefit.

In all of Westeros, only fifteen people would be permitted to witness what Robb knew would be the wedding of the century. If the Lannisters could not display their wealth, then they would at least flaunt their superiority. The countless lords and ladies of the King’s party practically tripped over themselves to reach Tywin’s chambers first; they desperately argued and debated who was deserving to see the ceremony. Even Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen had not made the guest list with their parents and the crown prince.

Robb had hoped he would be similarly forgotten.

Tywin Lannister himself had dashed that dream with a personal invitation extended immediately after the public announcement.

Tywin’s invitation positioned Robb between his father and Tyrion Lannister at the front of the floor, right where (Y/n) would come to stand. He was in full view of every lord and lady in the Sept and had an unobstructed eye on the woman that should have been his.

That was what Tywin wanted, and Robb knew it. He wanted Robb to know (Y/n) was not and would never be his. He wanted Robb to watch her hands join with another man, wanted Robb to hear to her swear vows to an insignificant knight. He wanted to remind Robb, and thereby his father and the King, who was really in charge.

As such, Robb was forced to watch the lumbering Harwyn Plumm march to the front of the Sept, standing in front of King Robert and Queen Cersei.

Harwyn was accompanied by Jaime Lannister, taking the place of Harwyn’s elder brothers and father as the bearer of (Y/n)’s marriage cloak.

Robb glared at the offending fabric, brought North from Casterly Rock by a soldier who had joined Mace Tyrell’s march to Winterfell. It was folded neatly under the Kingslayer’s arm, and Robb could not make out it’s texture or color. He didn’t need to see it to know what it represented, though.

It was the end, the end of any hope, not that there had ever been much.

“Rise.” The Septon was from the Riverlands, the Twins if Robb remembered correctly. There was no formal Septon at Winterfell to lead the ceremony, so Tywin had sent orders for Mace Tyrell to procure and bring a suitable man when he passed through House Frey.

Strictly speaking, the King, being above all but the gods, was not required to stand, but Robert Baratheon rose like all the rest as heads turned for (Y/n)’s entrance.

Robb’s eyes turned, and the moment he caught sight of her he desperately wished he hadn’t.

She was gorgeous, even more so than usual.

Robb had wondered, on occasion, if his attraction to her was real or if it was simply the gods’ way of drawing him to her, but even the gods, old and new, couldn’t fake such a beauty.

Her dress was a simple sheer white silk, draped more than fitted over her body. The straps were without sleeves and slipped over her shoulders as if they supported none of the weight of the fabric. Only a trail of ruching up the center between her breasts provided any support or structure for the slippery material.

The dress was topped with the only break from the immaculate white. A large piece of twisting golden metal hung from (Y/n)’s neck. Extending out over her shoulders, the vine-like twists framed her width and wove down her frame to finish in the top of the folds between her breasts. The neck piece gave a severe, serious armor, to an otherwise innocent appearance; and the polished gold of which it was made reminded the room her name.

Beautiful but Lannister.

Robb looked away.

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Prayer.

Seven blessings.

Song.

Seven promises.

Song.

Seven vows.

Prayer.

Lighting the candle.

Prayer.

Robb had only been to one wedding in a sept, and he recalled it had been a similarly tedious, albeit less emotionally painful, affair.

As a child, he had gone to a wedding in White Harbor the year before Arya was born. House Manderly were the only house in the North to worship the new gods, Lord Manderly’s sister had invited the entirety of the North to their Sept to bare witness to her wedding some minor southern lord.

The lords and ladies of the North descended on White Harbour, but most respectfully declined to enter the Sept to honor gods they did not believe, instead partaking only in the feast and celebrations of the couples’ marriage.

Robb’s mother had made a point that, while her children would worship the gods of their father, they would at least understand the gods of herself and the other kingdoms. As such, Robb had sat at the front of the Sept with his mother for the entirety of the dull affair. She explained it all to him, every moment of the ceremony whispered in his young ears.

In his heart, Robb knew he would never need to know. He would not be married in a Sept. He would be married in front of the weirwood tree, alone with his wife and the gods. He would not be made to attend any Southern court or play at diplomacy in a feasting hall. All he needed to know of the Seven was their names and their purpose.

Right now, that was all Robb wished he knew. He tried desperately to forget everything his mother had taught him, to forget what came next.

Tywin Lannister stepped forward behind his daughter and reached around the front of her neck, undoing the tie holding her Lannister cloak to the metal collar of her dress.

Gently, with all the reverence the old man was capable of, he touched he folded the cloak over his arm and retreated to his place.

Harwyn Plumm raised an hand and Jaime Lannister stepped forward, draping the marriage cloak over his outstretched arm.

The cloak, in itself, was surely enough to convince most that Tywin had indeed been planning this wedding long before he sprung the news on the King.

The face was hidden, covered in the folds of the material, but the lining alone was a work of art.

Marriage cloaks were the most treasured possession of any bride. Usually far finer than her dress and equally as expensive as the entire feast.

In the South, they were works of art to be marveled. Made from the finest silks and softest satins, they only touched the earth or saw the sun for the grandest occasions. Houses used the open display of their banners to showcase their importance in any way they saw fit. A cloak’s craftsmanship testified the wealth and love her husband held for her in what he willingly invested in showing her importance.

In the North, they were pretty enough, certainly more magnificent than everyday cloaks, but they always served a function. Silks and satins were uselessly discarded for furs and wools. Worn constantly in the cold, the sigils born by the cloak spoke for themselves, the names that accompanied them carrying far greater weight than any display of prowess. Wealth and love were proven through the deed of a man keeping his wife warm, not by showing off his gold to others.

(Y/n)’s marriage cloak was a feat that North and South alike could not deny.

The lining, displayed as it fell across Harwyn’s arm, was the golden hide of a lion, many lions by its length; yet there was no seam. Tireless work had gone into creating an unbroken chain of fur. An unending field made from the skin of their sigil. Lions and gold, a golden lion, the only thing worthy of touching Lannister skin.

Harwyn took the cloak in his hands and presented its interior for the world to see.

Robb had held some amount of pride that, at the least, Harwyn would present his soulmate with an unworthy rag. Some frilly Southern thing that was not to (Y/n)’s taste or at least not to Robb’s own. The presentation of its lining removed Robb of that notion. The hide lining was a majestic thing more than fitting of the South, but more than enough to cut the chill.

With an artful flourish, surely practiced for no man of Harwyn’s size could be so graceful without help, he swung it around (Y/n)’s shoulders. (Y/n), in a small moment of defiance that Robb would cherish to his dying day, batted Harwyn’s hands away to secure the cloak in place herself.

“With this kiss,” Harwyn took (Y/n)’s hands in his and leaned into her, “I pledge my love.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” (Y/n) parroted back, and their lips met. A brush so soft and swift that even Robb did not have time to feel any anger over it.

It wasn’t until the wedded pair turned to lead their guests from the Sept that everyone else present realized what Robb already knew.

The cloak around (Y/n)’s shoulders was not Harwyn Plumm’s.

Topping the fur lining of (Y/n)’s marriage cloak was a field of brilliantly crimson satin, hemmed in by a black, fur border. Stitched into the center were not the unintimidating, three purple fruits of House Plumm as it should have been, nor even the roaring lion of House Lannister.

Woven into the center of the fabric, so seemlessly it looked as though it was painted, was a proud lionness in golden thread. She leapt off her hind legs, facing out of the sigil towards the wedding guests with a vicious snarl at her teeth. A lioness on the hunt, the personal arms of Lady (Y/n) Lannister.

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“How much gold do you think the Lannisters paid Plumm’s father to allow that travesty?”

To say Robert was enraged might have been an understatement of the King’s actions at the feast.

The Lannister girl’s cloak didn’t really mean much. In truth, it was far more a slight to her husband than the king, but the fact that Harwyn Plumm was entirely unphased seemed to cause Robert further distress. Like he knew, by the knights inaction, that there was something more to the crest, something meant not for the knight but for the king.

Ned, sitting at the King’s side, simply could not conceive of such a thing. “You think the Plumm’s knew this was being planned? Surely not. The cloak is a symbol of his protection. What man would willingly have his honor questioned for a few pieces of gold?”

It was true that many had begun to whisper about the cloak, but the harsh words against Harwyn came mostly from Northmen, those with a far different sense of duty to their family. Harwyn’s peers, those knights and lords of the South, whispered as well, but with a far deeper understanding of what such a sign might mean.

“You Starks,” Robert grumbled, “you’ll never understand the South.”

“I don’t understand,” Ned agreed. “And yet you’d have me as your Hand.”

Robert turned to his old friend with a smile meant more for reminiscing than anything. “Yes, I know that well enough, Ned. It’s for that reason I want you as my Hand. I need a man removed of all of this, someone I can trust to remain above the fray.”

“By staying above the fray,” Ned deduced, “you mean someone who can’t be bought by Lannisters.”

“That does help your cause.” Robert and Ned laughed quietly together as though it were old times, and they were alone in the halls of the Eyrie avoiding Jon Arryn’s watchful eyes.

For a moment, Ned could almost forget his friend had changed.

Not in appearance, he didn’t need to forget that. Despite his heavier, darker physique, Robert Baratheon was still strong and harsh as ever. His body had aged more poorly than Ned’s own, but it didn’t detract from his friend at all.

Ned had almost forgotten his friend’s rage. Forgotten the cruel look in Robert’s eyes as he relished in the death of the Targaryen dynasty. Forgotten the stench of drink and sex that seemed to permeate Winterfell from the moment Robert arrived. Forgotten the thunk of his son’s soulmate hitting the floor. Forgotten the plotting and scheming against his enemies like a man bereft of sanity.

Almost.

It was impossible to forget when the living reminder sat two places away from Robert’s other side.

(Y/n) had taken a break from dancing with her husband and perched on the edge of her seat, chin high, shoulders back, high and mighty as only a Lannister could be.

Looking at her family, Ned could see Robert’s longing to cut them down to size, of reminding them that their place was the Rock, not the Throne. He could see Tywin marching into the throne room and demanding more respect than the King; Jaime Lannister prancing about the Red Keep like the arrogant fool who’d killed its previous owner; the Queen spitting on the name of her husband every time his back was turned; Tyrion blathering drunk and still thinking he knew more than all.

Ned knew, not only from (Y/n)’s last name but from his every encounter with the girl, that she was as dangerous as their lord father, proud as the knight, defiant as the queen, and smart as the imp. And yet, Ned could not, would not, envisage anyone cutting down (Y/n). Perhaps it was Ashara in her, or perhaps it was his son, but Ned could not stand to forget or forgive for what Robert had done.

In brief moments such as this, joking over Ned’s ignorance or reminiscing about times before the rebellion, Ned could almost see the valiant young lord who fought by Ned’s side to avenge his family and save his sister.

Now, Robert struck women he once would have protected and groped serving maids for the sheer joy of being unfaithful to his wife.

Ned fumed beneath his skin imagining Lyanna where Cersei now stood, being shamed and defied by a man who swore to love her alone, and Ned broke picturing Ashara, bedecked in her final Lannister red and gold, sitting next to a man who threw her to the floor. Ned’s imagination but Robb’s reality.

Robb looked ready to become the second man in the room to slay a king.

Ned turned his head away from Robert and leaned in so only Robb could hear. “He, and the rest of the party, will soon be gone. Do nothing to incur their wrath in these final hours.”

“I will not,” Robb huffed, “assuming you are done ingratiating the man who attacked one of our own.” Robb turned his harsh gaze on his father. “Or did you forget she wears our name now.”

“Our name, but not our colors.” Ned flitted his gaze over the raucous hall. “None know what she is to us.”

“You know.”

Robb pushed to his feet and moved several seats down to ask Sansa to dance, if for nothing more than an excuse to be away from his father and the King.

This day had been a trial of his will, and thus far it had held. He refused to allow it to be broken by the laughter of old men.

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Unsurprisingly, no one had seen when Tyrion Lannister rose to his feet.

Despite being heir to the Rock, the Imp had not received the same place of honor at the table as had the heir of Winterfell. Tyrion was, instead, sat on his sister’s side of the high table, far at the end, next to a snivelling Mace Tyrell and the irritating Lord Banefort. Both men spoke over the head of the shorter man, and neither seemed to notice or care that their companion had abandoned them.

Tyrion was perfectly fine with that arrangement. Neither provided the prospect of particularly scintillating conversation. He would have preferred, ideally, to be sat on the husband’s far end of the table beside his brother or in his rightful seat beside his favored sister, but being ignored by two unworthy men was far preferable to being bored talking to them.

Tyrion pushed to his feet only moments after the eldest Stark boy had abandoned his chair. He’d been told by his father to wait till the heir of Winterfell had full view, and while his timing was certainly more obvious than if he had waited a few moments, Tyrion simply didn’t think he could stand the room for another minute. This was his excuse to leave, and he hoped to seize the opportunity immediately.

With short, swift paces, Tyrion rounded the high table and dropped down two stone steps in height before he continued along its length towards the center of the room.

Seeing his youngest son approach, Tywin rose to his feet.

No one had seen, heard, or bothered with Tyrion standing, but the entire room stilled and fell quiet for his father.

“Father,” Tyrion fell to one knee, though he rested it on the step above where he stood to avoid losing any more height on the rest of the room. He spoke as loudly as he dared, “I have come before this hall to beg forgiveness.”

“For what, my son?” Tywin spoke what was meant to be a question but came without the tone.

“Forgiveness from the burden of bearing your name and my inability to do so. My Lord Father,” With a deep breath Tyrion recited the words. “May the Crone deem me wise. May the Father deem me just. May the Smith deem me strong. May the Mother deem me merciful. May the Warriror deem me brave. I ask the Maiden to pass my burden onto one of her own, and the Stranger to claim me swiftly if I prove wrong.”

“Tyrion Lannister, you would pass on your inheritance as Lord of Casterly Rock.” Tywin confirmed for his youngest son.

“I would.”

In a booming voice, for all to hear, Tywin announced, “Tyrion of House Lannister, born successor to the Lord of Casterly Rock, I pass you on as heir and hand the title my daughter, Lady (Y/N) Lannister. May she prove fit to bear the name.”

She would. Robb knew that much.

And as the celebrations resumed their levity, Robert Baratheon began to laugh.

Robb knew why. Tywin had seemingly given his House away to the Plumm’s.

Robert jeered his rival with a confidence the larger man would never have had on a sober morning, and Tywin met the rebukes with a cool smirk. Leaning over several seats, Tywin whispered to the King a single sentence that made the Baratheon’s face fall in an instance.

A sentence Robb, again, already knew. “My daughter is cloaked under her own protection and bares her own name; her children will be Lannister to their core.”

Lannister heirs. Something Robb, much as he wanted (Y/n), could never give.

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“The bedding!”

Robert’s voice roared and echoed across the stones.

Only Ned or the King could call for the end of the feast, and Robert seemed rather eager to do so quickly after Tyrion’s show and Tywin’s explanation.

The King should have married Tywin’s daughter to a Stark but was thwarted by the girl’s rejection. The King should have forced the betrothal but was thwarted by Tywin’s arrival. The King should have undone Harwyn Plumm but was thwarted by the sudden wedding.

Tywin should have cloaked his daughter in purple and yellow but instead managed to slight the Plumms and his guests by draping her in red. Tywin should have been robbed of his heir after Tyrion’s deferment but instead passed it to his daughter. Tywin should have lost his name to the Plumms but instead preserved his reign for years to come.

Robert was no longer in the mood for anything, even drinking. The greatest whore in King’s Landing could not satisfy the King’s mind, and the whore of Winterfell were far from the greatest in King’s Landing.

Robert wanted to watch the unruly Northmen shove the girl out of his sight so they might degrade her as she walked naked through the frigid halls of Winterfell. It was ceremony, a ceremony the King greatly enjoyed, and with his daughter left naked, it was one Tywin Lannister could not dare to stop.

The men, on any other occasion, would have rushed the bride. Drunkeningly tearing away her dignity for the whole kingdom to see without any care for whether they were still in the company of the feasting hall. Then, most women resisted or cowered at their fate.

“The bedding!”

Harwyn, still dancing with an older southern lady, was the first to be ushered away by the giggling maidens in his midst. He smiled, amused by the prospect, and put up little resistance as the women dragged him along towards the entrance hall. Shrill laughing and squeals of amusement following in their wake.

(Y/n) rose without emotion or hesitation as Robert called for it to begin.

The two dozen or so men, unknighted Northern soldiers mostly, assembled in the entryway. They laughed and shoved each other at the edge of the hall, waiting for the seemingly compliant woman to join their midst.

(Y/n) had to join them.

Usually the men would carry the bride. Usually, they would strip her naked in their arms, touch and feel her body as they pleased, and say whatever horrific obscenity came to their mind to humiliate the bride before they dropped her, crying usually, in bed with her husband as they laughed at the man for what they had seen of her or done to her before her husband could.

Tradition stated she must accompany them to her room, and that she should not resist their ‘preparations’ for her night, an elegant description for an inelegant deed.

(Y/n) walked straight through the group for the entrance hall, and the men rushed after her quick unfaltering pace.

“Leaving so soon?” One man called as the stumbling group tried to catch up with her.

“I knew she was just another Southern whore.”

Another voice joined in over the chorus of laughter. “Come back here; we want to see if your cunt is really made of gold!”

(Y/n) said nothing. She didn’t want this. She wanted to break into a run for her rooms. She wanted to call her guards and have Jaime or the Mountain cut them down. She wanted turn and slap the ones who spoke and show them to their proper place, far beneath her feet.

She couldn’t though. She wouldn’t. They were under her skin, but she wouldn’t allow them the pleasure of knowing it.

(Y/n) weaved her way through the halls at an unrelenting pace, always one step short of bolting for her door. If they caught her, it would not be in the entry halls, traversed by many where all could see her shame. If they caught her, it wouldn’t be for her lack of trying.

As she turned the corner towards the stairwell, one soldier, less drunk than his comrades presumably, kept better on his feet and matched (Y/n)’s pace as the raucous group came down the empty hall.

“Not so fast, my lady,” his voice growled. With thick, pudgy fingers, he caught the hem of her cloak and jerked.

(Y/n) was wrenched back by her neck into the crowd of pawing hands who all cheered their friend’s achievement.

With a crack of the clasp, her beautiful cloak fluttered to the floor beneath their feet as muddy boots trod over it in the men’s haste to get a better grip on the Lady of the Rock.

The men were intended to lift her on their shoulders and strip her as they traveled, but their walk after her had made them impatient and indulgent in their reward.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes tightly shut and balled her hands at her hands. Her teeth bit back the tip of her tongue as one voice shouted.

“Come on then! Show the rest of us! Is it gold?”

Hands trailed over (Y/n)’s curves, slipping over and under the thin material of her dress. They fought for what they deemed the best spaces and elbowed each other to make room for a better grip on her flesh.

A hand fisted in the folds at the front of her dress, and (Y/n) felt herself being dragged forward, pressed tight against the offending man’s chest. He and the nearest man behind her rubbed themselves against her, pressing and squeezing into her body with groans of pleasure.

“Savor it. We all need to have a turn!” One man snarked, ripping away the man at her front to try to replace him.

Bodies closed in around her; hands touched her chest and thighs in more places and ways than she could count.

(Y/n) was sure every man had their piece, but the voices made it seem some did not or were at least unsatisfied with the contact. They shouted at each other to make room. They shouted grotesque comments to her. They shouted what they would do when they had her.

She tried. She really, truly tried to keep herself hidden. She didn’t open her eyes or unclench her hands. She said nothing to the men and tried, in turn, to ignore what was said to her.

But when a pair of them lifted her arms above her head to get better access to her breasts, a lone tear finally broke and slid down her cheek.

“Leave us.” A voice, as cold and dark as the night outside the walls, broke the daze which had consumed the men.

A few maintained their rhythms, touching, groping and rubbing against the disturbed woman in their midst, but most hands, most bodies jerked away from her skin as if the voice cast some magic which burned their touch.

“My lord, we simply…” It was the same voice that told the others to savor it.

“I said leave us.” Darker, colder than the night this time.

(Y/n) dared not look as she heard the men retreating behind her; some willingly, others too drunk to know better had to be dragged away by their friends.

It took what (Y/n) thought must have been at least five minutes before the hall was completely quiet of the mobs crude noises and harsh words.

“They should be ashamed.” The words were spat with as much disgust as (Y/n) had ever heard.

“In the morning, they will say the same of you.” (Y/n) replied quietly, staying rooted to her spot in the middle of the hall.

Footsteps paced cautiously up behind her. They approached with all the hesitation and care the previous men had lacked. They came at her slowly, each step testing if it was one step too far before the next was made.

(Y/n) did not bother to open her eyes. She could hear quite clearly the path the feet took around in front of her, and when they finally settled, she felt the body heat pulsing out at her chest, drawing her in with its comforting warmth.

“I should have come sooner.” A gentle hand touched her cheek, wiping alone the lone tear clinging to her skin.

“I wish you had,” (Y/n) confessed in a voice meant for only their ears to hear.

A sigh blew across her face, “I’m not expected to join the bedding, or I would have sent them away at once. Robert tried to keep me in the hall; he insisted you were no longer my concern.”

(Y/n) let her eyelids flutter open to meet the dazzling blue eyes meer inches from her own. “In a way, I suppose he’s right.”

A small, sad smile tugged the corner of Robb’s lips. “I don’t suppose you would have a Septon set aside your marriage, turn your back on your father and your husband, give up becoming the most powerful woman in Westeros, force Tyrion to become heir to the Rock, leave your gold and all your other lavish Southern possessions and join me in the cold, barren North for the boring life of an incredibly traditional lady.”

(Y/n) laughed and let her face fall into Robb’s chest, dragging him into her with her arms around his waist.

Robb returned the gesture with a tight grip around her shoulders, holding her into him for what he worried might be the last time.

“I don’t suppose,” she teased in return, “if I set aside my marriage, you would be willing to forsake your inheritance, remove your sigil, leave your family, and follow me to Casterly Rock where you and your children will be known as Lannisters and never be allowed to bear the name Stark?”

They let the sad joke that was their lives hang in the air between them, and for a moment, though admittedly just a moment, Robb considered saying yes, he would.

“What do the old gods say happen to soulmates who cannot have each other this life?” (Y/n) suddenly asked, burrowing herself deeper into Robb’s embrace.

“Not much,” Robb confessed. “We have no afterlife. I like to believe we simply do not know of it, or that there is some kind of peace with those we love.”

(Y/n) turned her head to the side, pressing her cheek to Robb, so she could speak more clearly. “The new gods have seven heavens and seven hells. I like to think the pain of living in this world without your soulmate is enough suffering to warrant a place in at least the lowest heaven, or the highest hell, at the side of the soulmate we missed.”

Robb touched his lips to the top of her hair. He couldn’t bare to kiss (Y/n)’s skin. He worried the action might addict him to it. “Whatever fate befalls us,” Robb whispered into her quietly, “I promise you we will have our day.”

“We will have our day.” (Y/n) echoed Robb’s words with a far deeper emotion than she echoed Harwyn’s pledge of love earlier that day.

Robb unhappily pulled himself away and walked back several feet down the hall, stooping to salvage (Y/n)’s marriage cloak from the stones. “It’s a cold night. You should not be traveling through the halls without this.” Brushing the dirt and mud of the men from the cloth, Robb presented it to her.

(Y/n) turned her back to him, and Robb laid the cloak softly over her shoulders, wrapping her in warmth. She hadn’t realized it was so cold surrounded by the men, and when they’d left Robb had more than filled the void of heat. In fact, Robb was right, without the fires or bodies filling the feast, the air in the empty halls was heavy with the chill.

“Thank you,” She held the cloak tightly around herself.

“You’re welcome, my Lady.” Robb chuckled, “Now,” He didn’t want to break apart their moment, but he would rather end it himself, his way, than have it rudely interrupted by a passerby or search party. “I believe my fellow soldiers diverted tradition.”

“In what way?” (Y/n) looked back over her shoulder just in time.

Robb bent down, and with one arm on the small of her back and one behind her knees, swept his mate off her feet. “They were meant, my lady, to carry you.”

(Y/n) laughed, a loud, open sound not at all curved by her strong sense of propriety. It bounced off the stone and echoed down the halls with a joyous noise not at all befitting the moment, but certainly the first glint of amusement or happiness she or Robb had seen since their last fireside talk seemingly a lifetime ago.

Robb’s smile matched her own as he held her close for the journey up the stairs, and she rested her head on his shoulder with a natural comfort.

Despite their situation, they talked with ease.

(Y/n) groaned over how tediously long her maid had spent doing her hair in three different styles before her sister finally settled on the one that best framed her face. Robb lamented the snowy evening keeping the party crowded indoors. (Y/n) countered that he should join her at the Rock where space was never an issue, and Robb reminded her that the North was a far larger kingdom than the Westerlands.

(Y/n), having never been to the North before, asked its future lord just how large his domain would be. Robb recounted a tale where he, Theon, and Jon rode to House Manderly and ended up accompanying a convoy of supplies from Ramsgate  to the Stony Shore, not even the full width of the North and still a ride achievable in no less than three weeks, though usually a month. (Y/n) asked if it was made longer by winter weather, to which Robb conceded that sometimes was the case, though not in the story he told. He added that even at the height of summer, a ride from Last Hearth to Greywater took a month and a week.

(Y/n) gushed over having so much room to breath and groaned how a ride from Casterly Rock to Lannisport could sometimes take two days, not for distance but for the sheer number of carts on the roads. Robb wondered allowed how long the distance was and how large the Westerlands were, as even studying countless maps never gave anyone a true idea of space. (Y/n) told him a ride from Banefort to Crakehall usually took two weeks, but time could be cut if a traveler was willing to avoid roads through the Rock, not that many were for fear of thieves.

Robb asked the width of her lands, and she agreed that, without burgeoning trade, Silver Hall to Lannisport would be easily traversed in a week, no more. Though she liked to mention the mountains made it a far rougher ride than the flat ice plains of the North.

And then they were at her door. And Robb was setting her back on her feet.

“My lady,” Robb bowed before (Y/n), “I believe this is where I leave you.”

They stood together silently for a moment. Robb, waiting for her facade of passive indifference to return as she sent him away; (Y/n), waiting for she knew not what.

She didn’t want it to end this way. Chatting mildly about kingdoms and weather. It had been so lovely as it happened, but now knowing that was all there would be, it felt like time thoroughly wasted.

“Robb Stark,” (Y/n) curtsied in return to him, “I dare say you will never truly leave me.”

She was right, and they both knew it was so.

Robb turned away, not to leave her, for she was right that he never would, but to walk away. (Y/n) caught his hand. “Wait.”

“Yes, my lady,” Robb paused but couldn’t bring himself to look back at her.

“I,” (Y/n), for once in her life, had nothing to say. “I don’t believe this is how I’m intended to be delivered to my husband,” She said the first thing that came to her mind.

Robb shifted his palm so her hand slipped into his, and he laced her fingers between his own. “I won’t be like those men who defiled you.”

(Y/n) pressed her chest into Robb’s back, squeezing his fingers between her own for encouragement. “I believe, to defile me, would require I not be a willing participant in the act.”

What restraint Robb held, seemed to gradually melt away as (Y/n)’s free hand caressed over his shoulder and ran down his spine. (Y/n)’s breath fanned faintly over the back of Robb’s neck as she whispered, “Robb, he is nothing to me; I don’t want a stranger to be the first to see me.”

Robb whipped around, pulling himself free from (Y/n) as he faced her. “This is what you want?” His voice was stern, controlled. He had to be. To give her this, he had to be on guard to going too far. Not on guard to going beyond what she allowed, he needn’t worry about that. If she felt even half of what he did, Robb could claim her for his own right now against the door of her husband’s bedchambers. He worried more about going beyond his place, their places.

Her husband was on the other side of the door. Their fathers were downstairs on either side of the King. They had duties and responsibilities that even being soulmates would not allow them, namely her, to forsake, and he feared how much beyond those duties she would willingly give and he would gladly take.

“I want it to be you in there,” She motioned to the thick wooden door in the wall right beside them. “Barring that, I want you here, or at least I want what you’re allowed to have.”

Robb closed the step he had put between them, looking on her for the first time with completely unbridled emotion. He didn’t love her yet, nor did she love him. But by the old gods and the new, Robb knew he would love her one day. It was simply a matter of where and when, and looking on her in her wedding dress, it felt like the answer to both of those questions was the same. Close. Soon.

They moved together, lazily, drawing out the moment for all it was worth.

(Y/n) lifted her arms and rested them across the top of her head, giving Robb an obstructed view.

The pure white dress was stained with dirt and grime from the men she was longing for Robb to make her forget, but her survival, her defiance, only made her all the more beautiful. Even surrounded by a mob, she would not break or cave.  

Robb’s hands rested at her waist. They were calloused over years of sword fighting and hunting, but for her, and her alone, they moved as delicately as an artist. Tracing up her shape with languid movements that sent a welcome shiver down her back.

He reached the underside of her shoulders and followed up her forearms. A subtle pressure of his fingers bent back her elbows and brought her arms straight above her head. Crossed at the wrist, he made no move to hold them in place, leaving it to her to stay willingly at his mercy.

His attention dropped to the metal encircling her neck. She had tucked the edges of her cloak, where the clasp had been broken, under the metal to keep it from slipping from her shoulders. The memory of her husband tossing it over her back long replaced by Robb folding her caringly in its depths.

Robb took the warmth from her, a flick of his wrist pulling the cloak free and pooling the lioness at their feet.

She shook again, though not from the cold.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Robb sighed a desperate noise, pained by the realization that this moment would be the best he ever lived.

(Y/n) smiled up at him equally pained. “I would say the same of you, but let this moment be only us, something to cherish in our dying breaths.”

Standing close, Robb could see small hooks in the metal attached it to loops in the top of (Y/n)’s dress, and he began to free them as he spoke, “I do believe that every moment with you will be one I cherish in my dying breaths.”

(Y/n)’s hands dropped to hold her hair out of the way as Robb lifted the glorified necklace over her head. “Robb, please,” she begged, “try not to love me. I believe it will prove near impossible for me not to love you, but it is better for us both that, save these often visited memories, we fade away.”

Robb moved closer as his hands slid behind her back. His chest pushed into (Y/n)’s, forcing the hands above her head to fall around his neck.

“I don’t want to fade away.” Robb confessed.

Silk ties corseting her dress were hidden by a panel of silk that Robb deftly slipped beneath. Clutching the ends of the string, Robb pulled the knot loose and with it the last barrier from his mate. The fabric of her dress went slack around her body, held up only by the pressure of Robb tight against her. Along the seam of her back, the dress fell open entirely, exposing a huge expanse of her longing form to Robb’s yearning gaze.

His fingers glided down beneath the soft silk and rested flat against her backside, holding her to him, not that she ever wanted to leave.

“I want every other man to fade away. I want to wipe them from your memory, remove them from this place. I want to ruin you for your husband before he ever gets to claim you.”

With a squeeze, Robb elicited a groan from his mate, and while Harwyn Plumm was the last person he should be thinking of, Robb prayed that inside his room the knight had heard the noise.

“We have a duty,” Robb conceded, delicately drawing the tips of his fingers over every inch of (Y/n) exposed to his touch. He trailed up and down the length of her spine, feeling every bone of her back and tracing the shape of each with care as (Y/n) quaked from the sensation.

“And I promise you.” His palms, rough from work felt the breadth of her shoulders with a relieving pressure that brought (Y/n)’s head rolling back in his grasp.

Robb worked his fingers up into her hair as her head lulled to the side, gently massaging over her scalp, peppered with a tug here and there to draw a pleased sigh from her lips. “I won’t forsake that.”

(Y/n) could barely register Robb’s words. She knew what he was saying, but she was sure that,  until his fingers ceased toying with pulling down the neckline of her dress, she wouldn’t actually know what they meant.

“But make no mistake. I will not forget you, and you will not forget me.”

Perhaps, it was only that Robb was so clearly more handsome than her husband. Perhaps, she was only consumed by a moment’s gratitude to Robb for freeing her from the men who grabbed her. Perhaps, Robb knew his way around a woman with more skill than she initially believed. Perhaps, for once in her life, (Y/n) was enjoying indulging in something rebellious. Perhaps, this was all only a trick of the gods.

Or perhaps, it was the affectionate bond they formed in their early days by the light of the fire. Perhaps, it was how easily they enjoyed talking to one another. Perhaps, it was the tender care with which he always treated her. Perhaps, she was drawn to a man so visibly consumed with her. Perhaps, she was, truly, made for him.

Whatever the cause, (Y/n) had no words for what she felt as Robb took a step away from her and let her dress crumble to the floor. No words she could speak, anyway.

He looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world, and she looked on him wishing he was the only man.

With her naked before him, Robb no longer raised a hand. His arms stayed firmly at his sides. His eyes moved enough for the rest of him.

She felt his gaze caressing every inch of her skin, touching her, holding her everywhere he wanted to but didn’t dare.

(Y/n) turned in her spot, moving as slowly as she was willing to risk. If she never got to see him, and he could only see her once, then he would see all she had to offer him.  

They had traveled, till now, under the guise of the bedding, and much as she wished, their mask provided no excuse for her to see him in the state he saw her now. She lived, vicariously, through her mate, consuming his expressions and his eyes as those she would return if their positions were reversed.

(Y/n) reached out a hand to take Robb’s own, and the two stayed joined for a long moment, enjoying what they could of each other for the last time.

“I believe,” Robb’s voice was gruff, deeper with desire than it had ever been before. “It is custom to take you to your bed.”

(Y/n) bit back a smile. “I believe you are right.”

Robb was careful with what he touched as he lifted (Y/n), naked as her birth, against his chest.

(Y/n) waited patiently in his arms as Robb closed his eyes to memorize this moment. He felt every curve and plane of her body pressing against him from her breasts to her thighs. He inhaled her scent, unadulterated by oil or perfume. He listened to the sound of her heartbeat, hammering so hard in her chest that he could count the thuds in time with his own.

Robb opened his eyes and stepped to the door.

(Y/n), taking cue, reached down and opened it for her mate.

“You’re finally here. I was worried something had…”

Harwyn was tucked into their marriage bed, bare as his wife and shocked speechless by her presence.

Robb marched with sure steps around to the empty side of the bed, laying (Y/n) down atop the soft furs. Lowering his head, Robb took one last liberty for himself, kissing the flat bone between (Y/n)’s naked breasts before he rose.

“I hope your night brings all the pleasure you deserve,” Robb brushed a hair from (Y/n)’s eyes as he smiled painfully down at her.

It was, Robb thought as he made for the door, the last time he would ever touch her, the last words he would ever say to her.

His knuckles went white to restrain himself as he turned back to see Harwyn sat up, leaning protectively over his wife as he glared after Robb. Jealous of Robb, as if there was anything for Harwyn to be jealous of. The most beautiful woman in the world was lying at his side, and all Robb had of her were fleeting memories and a family name on his arm.

Robb was the one, rightly, jealous of Harwyn Plumm, a man so unworthy of the prize he’d claimed.

Perhaps, Robb hoped fleetingly, he could give the man’s jealousy cause.

Robb looked over Harwyn’s heavy set shoulders to see (Y/n) had moved up onto her knees to watch him leave. “If he doesn’t satisfy your pleasures, my lady,” Robb turned his eyes on Harwyn with a cruel smirk, “you know where to find me.”

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That night, upset by the actions of her husband, the queen left the festivities early, long before the bedding.

Her twin accompanied her, attempting to conceal the very real emotion projecting on the queen’s usually passive face.

That night, upset that himself, his youngest sister, and younger brother were not allowed into the feast, a young Stark took to climbing the towers around the keep to get a peak in the high windows.

He was alone, climbing slick, icy stones facing strong winds. It was no wonder to any but his family why the boy fell. It was no wonder to any, including his family, that the howls of his wolf went unnoticed in the clatter of celebration.

The next morning as he prepared for his ride to the Wall, a bastard found the boy’s body, blue with cold.

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“Tyrek!” 

The squire rushed into Tywin’s quarters.

Kevan, Tywin, and (Y/n) sat huddled around his desk, preparing their route to leave Winterfell. 

The regrettable fall of Bran had already delayed the party’s departure by a week and was set to delay the King by at least one more. 

Ned Stark, despairing of what happened to his son, couldn’t bare the sight of his own home and couldn’t bare the thought of letting his daughters out of his sight, let alone allowing them to travel to King’s Landing. 

The King, ingratiating himself to the Stark who now agreed to be his hand, ordered a week of mourning, no travel, no planning, no celebrating. 

Robert only lifted the ban for fear that, should the entirety of the court remain any longer, Winterfell would again be facing a shortfall of food. This time, without a flush of Tyrell travelers to provide relief.

A group of lesser courtiers, those deemed nonessential to the King, were to leave in two days time, and Tywin hoped he and his daughter would be among them, along with all but one of his men.

“Tyrek, bar the door.” 

The young squire did as instructed and closed the door, latching it in place. Clanging of armor just beyond the wood, assured the Mountain was stationed outside. They would not be overheard or interrupted.

“I have a task for you which will require you do not return with us to Casterly Rock.” Tywin addressed his nephew.

(Y/n) rose to her feet and motioned for Tyrek to take her place. For once, (Y/n) found she didn’t know what her father had called Tyrek in to discuss. It was not often that she was left out of his plans, and it usually only occurred for the lack of convenience brought by her distance.

On this occasion, the reasoning was entirely different, and one she wished to be on her feet and braced to hear.

Tyrek took the empty chair between Kevan and Tywin, nervously looking between his uncles. “Anything you ask, my lord.”

Tywin withdrew from his desk a piece of paper. “By order of the King, you are to join Lancel as his squire.”

Tyrek took the paper and unfolded it, reading the words with his own eyes. “By what reason, may I ask?”

“By reason that I have asked it.” Tywin dismissed the question promptly. 

“What would you have me do?” 

Tywin lifted a bag from beneath his desk and and dumped its contents. 

A small vial fell out of the leather and rolled across the table, stopping only where it hit Tyrek’s outstretched hand. “What is this?” Tyrek lifted the vial and examined the thick brown liquid as it oozed slowly across the surface of its container. 

“Thickened manticore venom.”

“Father!” (Y/n)’s tone wasn’t rebuking, but it was certainly shocked. Poison was not her father’s weapon, nor a common item in the Westerlands. 

Tywin rose from his chair, assuming his full height as he rounded the table to face his daughter with hard, cold eyes. “You disapprove?”

She didn’t, of course. She was surprised, of course; caught off guard, but not at all against the thought. “I’m told,” she hedged, “it’s a slow and painful death.”

“Precisely as he deserves.” Tywin turned to his nephew who stared up on the pair with wide eyed fascination. “Tyrek, I have a job for you. Should you succeed, you will be rewarded far beyond your dreams.”

“What would you have me do?” Tyrek clutched the poison in his fist.

“I would have you murder the King.”

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Next Time on… Part Five (Coming soon)

Taglist:

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse /

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I think I tagged everyone. If I didn’t, please reply to this post to correct me. If you’d like to be on a different taglist, please reply to this post to lemme know. If I mistagged you instead of someone else, inform me and I will happily fix my mistake.

Thank you all for your patience. I apologize for how long this has taken and for going completely MIA for a period there. I hope this makes up for it.

[m1smatched-starsigns]

☀️ Hollyleaf?

How about a Hollystar AU to brighten your day? Also, somehow this turned more into a one-shot than a brief fic description and I’m so sorry for that... Hollyleaf is just too good!

Lionblaze has already watched his sister die once, and he refuses to do it again. When he sees Hollyleaf tense to trade her life for Ivypool’s, Lionblaze beats her to it. The fatel blow kills him, and in an act of vengeance, Hollyleaf kills Hawkfrost.

When the battle is over and it’s time for Brambleclaw to choose his deputy, his eyes are drawn to the she-cat he once believed was his daughter. There was a point when Brambleclaw believed that Hollyleaf was meant to carry on the legacy of her grandfather — as a matter of fact, it was Firestar who first mentioned it.

“It’s like she was born for it,” Firestar uttered, emerald eyes soft as he watched his granddaughter across camp. Brambleclaw agreed then; he still does now.

Because maybe Hollyleaf was not born with the power of the stars in her paws, but the Silverpelt shines in her emerald eyes and this was her purpose all along.

He picks Hollyleaf as his deputy. Nobody is as shocked as she is, and wow, is it a controversial decision. At first Hollyleaf can not accept this and urges him to choose someone else (“Whitewing, Hazeltail, Brackenfur!”). But Brambleclaw is adamant: Hollyleaf will be his deputy.

In the end, she reluctantly accepts the honor. At least until she can convince him that he’s made the wrong decision.

The problem is... Hollyleaf steps into the role like it was crafted specifically for her. Despite her moons in the tunnels, she knows her Clanmates well and her heart has never once stopped beating for ThunderClan. She sorts patrols with natural organization; she sets a work ethic that the young cats can look up to; and she has a solution for every problem presented.

Except for the one that glares her in the face. She knows her Clanmates well, and she knows that many of them think her unfit for the position.

“What’s she going to do when someone speaks against her at a Gathering?” Thornclaw demands. “Send then floating down the river like Ashfur?”

Blossomfall eyes her. “She snapped once before. Whose to say she won’t do it again?”

“Firestar’s blood isn’t everything,” Spiderleg snorts.

They have a right to their opinions, and although they sting, Hollyleaf knows she can convince them otherwise with hard work and dedication (and maybe some favoritism when it comes to sorting the dawn patrols).

She doesn’t have a solution for one problem, though. There are five cats she used to be the close to, and now she doesn’t know how to look them in the eye.

“Just talk to them,” Bramblestar encourages her. His eyes are drawn to Squirrelflight. “Sometimes, that’s all they’re waiting for.”

So she starts there, with Squirrelflight.

“I have a problem,” she tells her that evening, surprising Squirrelflight by the fresh-kill pile. “I don’t know these new warriors like you do, and I think I’m mishandling them a bit. Can you give me the inside scoop on Blossomfall, Bumblestripe, and Dovewing?”

Squirrelflight is surprised by her question, but complies willingly. She gives Hollyleaf insight to the younger warriors and how to get the best out of them, and her adivce isn’t the most practical, but it makes perfect sense. It isn’t long before conversion flows smoothly, and with every new word, Hollyleaf thinks that they will be okay.

She tackles Leafpool next. Truthfully she should have come before Squirrelflight, but the posionues scent of death berries clogs her senses when she looks at her mother. But maybe after they talk, that will change too.

She waits until Jayfeather is busy, then walks quietly into the Medicane Cat Den. “I see you’re running low on comfry,” she meows. “If you want some company gathering more... I did train as a medicane cat for a moon.”

Leafpool smiles at her, soft and gentle, and it makes Hollyleaf’s heart ache. Why did she hold a grudge against her mother for so long? Why did she refuse to let those smiles reassure her for so long? What else has she missed out on?

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Leafpool tells her firmly, when she voices as much. “We have all the time in the world to make up for it. That is, if you want to?”

Yes, Hollyleaf says. She wants to.

That’s two down, two more to go. She figures that Cinderheart and Mousewhisker won’t be much different from each other, so she approaches the cat who is only a fox-length away from her.

“Hi. Can I share that thrush with you?”

Cinderheart blinks, then pushes her meal towards her. “Uh, sure.”

Hollyleaf settles down and takes a bite of the thrush, and the warm flavor is a nice contrast to the awkwardness between the kithood friends. “Oh! I didn’t realize it’s been so long since I had a thrush.”

“You can have the rest,” Cinderheart meows. “I’m not very hungry anyway.” She goes to stand up but Hollyleaf can’t let her leave, so she blurts something out.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Patient, compassionate Cinderheart stares at her like she’s grown a second head. “Am I doing okay?” She echos.

Hollyleaf tried not to cringe. “I just mean... I know you and Lionblaze became close after I... disappeared. Are you okay?”

She almost wishes she didn’t ask. The words hurt to speak aloud, and judging by the way that Cinderheart can’t look at her now, they must hurt to hear. It strikes Hollyleaf that her old friend doesn’t seem to finish any of her meals lately.

She shrugs. “As good as can be expected, I guess. He died a warrior’s death. The Clan will honor his memory for seasons.”

What does she say to that? Cinderheart isn’t wrong, and pressing her about it doesn’t seem like a wise decision.

Hollyleaf wants to say, “I know how you’re feeling right now,” but the truth is that she doesn’t know. The future that Cinderheart would have shared with Lionblaze is vastly different than the one she would have shared with him.

Hollyleaf thinks about Mousewhisker. She closes her eyes and focuses. One cat at a time.

“Do you remember when he swore that he could fish, and ended up falling in the river?” Hollyleaf asks. Just thinking about the memory touches a smile to her lips.

It has a similar effect on Cinderheart. “He looked much smaller once he was soaked to the bone,” Cinderheart meows, smiling slightly. “What about the time when he thought he was a better tracker than Berrynose?”

They go back and forth like that for a long time, just sitting there exchanging stories about the cat who meant very different things to both of them, yet still meant so much. By the time the dusk patrols roll around, Cinderheart doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore.

“Hey,” Hollyleaf meows, “do you want to lead a hunting patrol with me?”

Cinderheart smiles at her like she’s an apprentice again, and Hollyleaf can check another cat from her list.

Mousewhisker is next. After doing this three times already Hollyleaf thought this would be easy, but Mousewhisker fills her with a different sense of guilt.

She approaches him hesitantly, but musters some of that deputy confidence that comes naturally to her now. “Hey. Want to go hunting with me?”

Mousewhisker stares right through her like she isn’t even there. “No thanks, deputy.”

So it’s going to be like that, then.

Hollyleaf narrows her eyes and says, “I wasn’t actually asking. Come on. We’re hunting together.”

Mousewhisker looks like he wants to challenge her, but then he just shrugs and gestures for her to lead the way. Hollyleaf suspects he isn’t surrendering — more like he’s giving her the silent treatment.

Her suspicions are confirmed once they’re in the forest and she tries to strike up a conversation, and he only responds with gestures and grunts. Hollyleaf is rapidly loosing her patience.

You’ve changed, she finally tells him. It is not a compliment.

So have you, he replies. It is not a compliment.

Why are you making this so difficult, she asks him.

This time Mousewhisker looks at her and just for a moment, he sees her. “I still haven’t forgiven you for dying the first time,” he says. “Twice? You’re pushing your luck.”

Hollyleaf blinks. He’s referring to her disappearance, and... then what? “I didn’t die a second time.”

Mousewhisker pushes past her. “That’s what you think.” He leaves her standing there, confused. Somehow she has hurt Mousewhisker in ways she doesn’t understand.

One day, if he will let her, she will.

It’s not an encouraging note to end on, but she can’t push it off any longer. She only has one brother now, but if she wastes anymore time then she’s going to lose him too.

Jayfeather has always been one to hold grudges, so she gets starts off with, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

She wonders if he will give her the silent treatment as well, but it’s been almost a moon since the battle was won and Jayfeather has had plenty of time to ignore her.

His head snaps up and he asks, “What? You mean the fact that Lionblaze took your place so that you could become deputy?”

Hollyleaf frowns. “Don’t talk like I planned this, Jayfeather. I didn’t.”

Jayfeather glares at her, like he can see her more clearly than Mousewhisker could. “No, it just worked out perfectly for you.”

“That’s not-“

“You get to disappears in the tunnels and sulk while Lionblaze and I have to deal with everyone’s stares. Stares that you directed toward us!”

“As if I-“

“Then you get to come back and act like some big hero, humbled by experiences you never had, and you expect everyone to just let you back where you left off!”

“Stop!” Hollyleaf growls. “You don’t know what you’re-“

“And then Lionblaze sacrifices himself for you, and you become deputy, and you never miss a step. No one can stop talking about what a hero you are, about how you’re going to usher ThunderClan into its next golden era, and it’s like none of you can remember who was supposed to stand in your paws; Lionblaze didn’t disappear when we needed him! He never skipped a patrol, he never hid during a battle. He deserved to be deputy, not you!”

Hollyleaf opens her mouth with a fierce retort on her tongue... but then she closes it again. She can’t argue with him, not when— “I know.”

Jayfeather’s whiskers are quivering. “What.”

Hollyleaf holds his blind gaze. “I agree with you. I tried to tell Bramblestar as much when he first made me deputy, remember?” She swallows. “Jayfeather, I think about Lionblaze every single day. Trust me, if I could go back to the battle and take his place then I would.”

“Don’t say that,” Jayfeather immediately snaps. His temper cools quickly and his shoulders slump, like he hasn’t slept in moons. “I don’t... there was a time when I thought you were dead and Lionblaze was all I had. He was such a strong warrior that I thought for sure I would be his medicine cat. I thought we would work together for many moons.”

He looks at her again. “I missed you when you were gone. Did I ever tell you that?”

Hollyleaf tells him, Once.

“I should tell you more often. I really missed you. Lionblaze and I both did. And I’m so grateful that you’re alive, but this is never where I thought we would be. With Lionblaze dead and you as deputy.” He scrapes the ground with a claw. “I suppose I sound selfish.”

Only a bit, Hollyleaf tells him. But she understands. She wasn’t a prophecy cat. It’s different and sad.

Jayfeather nods. “Just... give me time, alright? I’ll grieve and move on and adjust. I’ll be fine.”

Maybe if Hollyleaf were one of the Three, she would be enough to comfort Jayfeather. But he shares a bond with Lionblaze and Dovewing that she will never be able to understand, even if she is his only littermate now. She was gone for too long, she missed too much—

The sting of Not Being Enough is still there, like she only learned the truth a day ago.

Sure, Hollyleaf tells Jayfeather. She can give him time.

As it turns out, time heals what talking can not.

Her relationships with her parents are stronger than ever. Her friendship with Cinderheart is repaired and rebuilt, and they regularly go hunting together like they are apprentices again.

It took a few moons, but eventually Mousewhisker warmed up to her again. The Dark Forest changed him, but the tunnels changed her. Neither of them are the same young warrior they used to be. They are able to bond over that, and then they are able to love again. (Although she did have to order him to spend time with her to get to that point.)

Jayfeather was right when he said he needed time to heal and adjust. Everyday he wasn’t ready to accept her new position in his life hurt her, but over the following days, it became easier and easier for him. Now they were as close as they had ever been — maybe even closer, because Clan leader and medicine cat work very closely with each other.

Bramblestar’s reign was one of recovery and rebuilding, but he never seemed to be able to push ThunderClan into their new golden era.

That was Hollystar’s job, now.

Hollystar, she thinks, as she watches over her the Clan — Her Clan. That was a name she used to dream hearing, and then she refused to think it, and now she has accepted it.

Bramblestar faced much during his reign, and though she thought it was too short, it dawns on her that time has changed much more than she realized.

Squirrelflight and Leafpool both retired from their duties after Bramblestar passed. The sisters could have continued serving for awhile longer, but what would be the point? They accomplished enough to fill nine lives, and if Hollystar had the opportunity to retire alongside her brothers, she thinks she would take it.

As she passes by, Cinderheart shoots her a smile. Hollystar returns it easily, and watches her pad into the Nursery where her kits are waiting for her.

When Cinderheart first told her about her growing feelings for Toadstep, Hollystar had mixed emotions. It reminded her that Lionblaze could still be alive if he hadn’t sacrificed his life for hers. He would have his own family by now.

But on the other paw, Hollystar was thankful that her closet friend had found love again. It helps that Toadstep worships the ground that Cinderheart walks upon. They were happy together and in the end, that was all that truly mattered.

Happy chirps draw her attention, and a smile touches Hollystar’s lips when she spots the source: her mate and their son were padding into camp, side-by-side.

At eight moons old, Blazepaw looked nothing like his namesake but he already had his spirit. He was courages and dedicated to his training and was shaping into a magnificent warrior. Lionblaze would be proud of his nephew.

Mousewhisker catches her eye, and after he nudges their son to the Apprentice Den, he makes his way towards her.

“Beautiful,” he remarks.

Hollystar raises her gaze to the Silverpelt above. “It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t talking about the Silverpelt.”

Mousewhisker sits down beside her and she leans her head on his shoulder. “What was Blazepaw telling you about?”

“He mastered another battle technique. It’s impressive, honestly. We named him after the right cat.”

Hollystar hums in response. “I need to evaluate all of the apprentices soon. Rosepetal’s litter are almost ready to be warriors.”

“Blazepaw will smoke them all.”

“You’re bias.”

“So are you.”

Hollystar considers this. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll bring Ivypool with me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” They sit there in silence for awhile, letting their gazes roam to whatever catches their attention. Mousewhisker is warm and smells like the earth, and Hollystar leans a little deeper into his soft fur.

“What were you thinking about?” Mousewhisker breaks the companionable silence.

“Nothing much. Just how much has changed. I don’t feel like I had time to catch my breath through most of it.”

Mousewhisker huffs. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.” He glances at her, careful not to disturb her. “Still... it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

Hollystar blinks and lifts her head. “Of course not! I don’t have a single regret about any of it. Sometimes it was just a lot to absorb.”

“Well, no one could tell. You handled it all as well as any cat could.” He licks the top of her head. “And you’re a brilliant leader.”

She purrs quietly. “Even if I’ve only been leading for a moon? That seems like a rash judgement.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve always been brilliant.” He says it with such conviction that Hollystar allows herself to believe it. She licks his cheek and he nuzzles her chin. They’re about to move this to her Den.

But for just another moment, she wants to watch over her Clan.

Laughter pours out of the Elders Den; mewls fill the Nursery; and the warriors jostle and joke. Morale is high, and the Silverpelt shines brightly. It really is a beautiful night.

Mousewhisker nudges her shoulder. “You really don’t have a single regret?” He asks her. “Not one?”

Hollystar considers her question for a long moment. She has done a lot of wrong in her life; she has hurt cats she never wanted to hurt. But every pawstep led her to where she is now, and she can not imagine being any happier than she is at this moment.

So she tells him, No, she does not have a single regret.

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Ficlet cont under the read more. It’s like 4 pgs so I didn’t wanna wreck ur dash. Beware pining?

(I cut out the middle because I rewrote the entire beginning and it wouldn’t line up. So here’s… closer to the end, I guess.) 

He looks at her, trying to decide if he believes it’s the truth or not. When she stops them in the middle of the busy walkway, holding his gaze, he decides if she’s lying, he’d rather pretend she wasn’t. But her pulse was even, she smelled normal and he couldn’t think of a reason she’d lie. “I don’t need saving, or coddling,” he tells her.

“You need a great deal of coddling,” she pats his hand again. “But not because of that.” She leans into him as they walk, and then smiles. “I’m in the mood for breakfast, are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he comments neutrally. He’d eaten some but was starving again already. He glances around, Dandelion isn’t far behind them, he’s occasionally stopped to chat with people, telling them where he’ll be playing that evening.

“Look! Fresh peaches, oh, do come over here,” she drags Geralt to a farmer’s small cart, and buys a few different fruits to sample. She’s not buying large quantities, but she doesn’t haggle much, either, so the farmer doesn’t mind her. Using her belt knife, she cuts the first fruit in half neatly, flipping the bit to the side of the walkway. Handing him half, she bites into her half and smiles in pleasure. The fruit is sweet and just the right amount of ripe. He samples his, watching in surprise when she hands off a peach to the bard. After having wiped fruit juice from his chin, he’s surprised when Yennefer pulls him down to kiss him. It’s wonderful in itself, she tastes of the fruit she’d just eaten, and she giggles a bit when they break apart.

“Strawberries!” she points out, tugging him to another cart. Some people have stalls or even what look like more permanent little shop stands, but she keeps choosing the smaller carts. Poorer farms, probably. The produce is no better or worse. She laughs as she feeds him one of the strawberries, and he kisses her in delight, to share the sweet flavor.

Dandelion watches always surprised to find that the witch shares the food with him. She doesn’t speak to him, doesn’t include him in her laughter, or allow Geralt to be distracted from her. He comes to realize it isn’t meant to be cruel. He’s along because he follows Geralt. She’s doing all of this to distract him and put him at ease. Teasing the witcher with a piece of fruit, a half of a pastry, a slice of roast lamb, and they walk and eat their way down the paths set up for the fair. He’s never really seen the witcher in this kind of mood, where he smiles a bit, and laughs some when Yennefer does. He bends his ear to her and seems lighter.

She’s undoing it, he realizes. Without any magic at all, she’s undoing the harm they did, not all of it, but some of it. She makes him feel less other. Less inhuman. People are more willing to approach and laugh with a man attached to a pretty laughing woman than a glowering man alone, witcher or not. He suffers alongside Geralt when they try some kind of smoked meat made with strong spices. Yennefer laughs again, unbothered, but finds them some soft, bland cheese and rolls to help take away the pain.

“What the fuck was that,” he complains, having thought he had a strong well cultured palette.

Geralt resists rubbing his nose on his sleeve, and blinks away tears from his watering eyes. The cheese had helped, as had the bread. When he finds someone with cups and skins of juice for sale, he purchases some, sharing with both the bard and Yennefer.

“Chiles, and peppers, they shred the meat and mix it together, then smoke it.”

“I shouldn’t want to eat that ever again. Oh, that was too much,” the bard wheezes. Geralt laughs, and Dandelion stares at him. He hasn’t seen him really laugh. He chuckles sometimes, but this is something new. It hurts a bit; he’s never managed to bring this side of the witcher out. He hadn’t realized how much Yennefer knew about Geralt, either. His favorite fruits, drinks, what types of meat he hadn’t tried but might like, what he might not like. She knew him, cared enough to remember his preferences. As far as Dandelion knew, Geralt would eat anything at least once, and didn’t much care what it was so long as it was filling. He hadn’t realized how badly the witcher just wanted to be a man with a woman and no burdens to carry.

His hatred for the sorceress eases a little. He doesn’t think he’ll ever like her. Especially since he knows all this frivolity and fun will just end in heartbreak again for Geralt, and he’ll be morose until they start again. Every time this happens, it makes him angry all over again. Why keep going back? He’d wanted to ask, but now he understands. At least some of it, it’s not as if he didn’t go back to the countess a few times. Or his duchess.

“Oh, Geralt, your favorite, come over here, I didn’t even know you could find it this far inland, come on,” she tugs him over, and he follows her. The sun is warm on his face, he’s clean, and while the doublet is obnoxious, it’s not as horrible as it had felt when he first put it on. She buys two of an oddly shaped fruit Dandelion hasn’t seen before, and deftly slices it against her palm without so much as nicking her skin. She holds half out to Geralt who takes it, and then offers Dandelion a few slices. He tries it cautiously, wondering what kind of fruit might be Geralt’s favorite. It’s sweet, a little tart, and has a very light flavor. Then he notices the little slices in his hand are shaped like stars.

Geralt savors the sweet flavor, eyes closed as they stand to the side of the crowds, out of the way. He’s mindful of the little seeds and knocks them free of the fruit before eating the rest of it. When Yennefer’s finished her pieces, he leans in to kiss her, heedless of how improper it might be. She keeps her hands away from him, to keep his doublet clean, but kisses him willingly.

They’re making their way past all the food and trinkets to the proper vendors, and when they’ve rinsed sticky fingers and faces in the fountain, their exploration of the harvest market begins in earnest. Yennefer does quite a bit more shopping than Geralt had expected and finds he doesn’t mind carrying some of it with him. Dandelion has his own things to buy, and for a bit the witcher finds himself trailing the bard as Yennefer haggles with a hedgewitch over some charms.

He lightly touches the back of the bard’s hand with his fingertips and Dandelion turns to him. “I’m not mad at you,” he says, unsure what the look on Geralt’s face is about. “You were enjoying your time with her, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Soon enough you’ll both burn it down.” Then he hates himself. “I’m sorry. Maybe this time you won’t,” he says, gently squeezing Geralt’s shoulder. “Fuck, I don’t, she brings out the worst in me, I say horrible things and I don’t mean to. Or I do, but not to you, not…Let’s try that again. I’m doing wonderfully, this place is less of a backwater than I thought, and our horses will have more to carry as we travel.”

Geralt simply frowns at him a little, realizing he has been missing something about the bard. “I’m sorry, last night, that I asked you to…” he clears his throat and looks around rather than finish his sentence. “It wasn’t right. If that’s… if that’s why you’re uncomfortable with me, I wouldn’t… I was just desperate, and I would have asked anyone, it was…I was…I didn’t mean to upset…I don’t know what I’m trying to tell you, I’m just sorry I put you in that position.”

Dandelion hisses in his breath, stung by some of the apology. He glances over at Yennefer, still haggling and takes a deep breath. “If you had been fully in control of yourself and had asked me in earnest, rather than desperation I would have gladly done it,” his voice is a little clipped, but he can’t make himself confess anything.

Rather than feeling like his apology was accepted, he feels like he made the situation worse, he simply frowns. The words make sense individually but strung together they make him feel stupid. “You…you want…?”

“Not here, not now. It’s lovely out, there’s people to talk to, purchases to be made, food to sample, wines to try…apology accepted. You were suffering and now that it’s over, here we are. Looks like she got what she wanted,” he looks over as Yennefer comes to join them.

Bewildered, Geralt doesn’t try to press the conversation. Not that he ever usually does, in fact, quite often, he is trying to stop the conversation from happening at all. He links his arm with Yennefer’s and lets her lead them about a bit. He has no interest in most goods, he has two shirts, an extra pair of pants, and he’s wearing his boots. He doesn’t need much more, and he has nowhere to store any of it, anyway. Although, perhaps he could use some extra socks, and Roach might be able to use a newer saddle blanket…when they make their way to the livestock areas, he finds a woman who makes truly beautiful saddle blankets. He’s not interested in looks and selects a simple grey one. It seems well made and sturdy and the horse won’t care what it looks like any more than he does.

He also remembers to buy some small bags of grains and feed, along with a few wizened carrots. No need for fresh or fancy, the horse is just going to eat them and shit them out without caring.

Yennefer drops back to let him shop on his own, linking her arm through the bard’s. “I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to walk through pig shit. He’ll come back when he’s done.”

“Ah.”

“It’s sweet, how he says he couldn’t care less about the horse, and here he is buying her things.”

“It’s not as if he’s buying saddle charms or trinkets for her mane or special soaps for her tail,” the bard protests, then wonders why he’s doing it.

“No, but he is finding care for her hooves, and something to make sure she doesn’t get mites in her ears, and a whole host of other things for her that aren’t strictly necessary. He just likes to have it all on hand. He has a great capacity for love,” she glances at the bard from the side of her eye. “He’d purchase something for you, but he has no idea what to give you. He knows he has no eye for fashion, you don’t bedeck yourself with much jewelry and he wouldn’t know what to pick, he can’t buy anything for your instrument -the lute or otherwise,” she smirks. “He has no idea what’s required.” She doesn’t let him shop for her, either. “He does look around for you. He does make sure he can see you, and that you’re safe. He won’t say it with words, but he cares about you as much as he does the horse, at the very least. Try to notice.”

When Geralt gets back to them, he smells a bit like livestock but in the open air it will fade quickly. Yennefer wrinkles her nose. “We should find a runner, so we aren’t having to carry things.”

“We could have asked some of this be delivered at the end,” Dandelion points out, for all he hadn’t purchased much.

“And hoped no one resold it to double their profit and then gave it to whoever purchased it last,” Geralt points out.

“Well then.”

“Let’s just take it back ourselves, and come back to enjoy the rest?” Dandelion suggests. The urchins hovering about seem more likely to steal than deliver their things.

They make it to the inn and back, going a different path to avoid the town square both times. Dandelion stays closer this time, snidely discussing the various other musicians who are busking around the festival. Geralt grins a few times, shaking his head ruefully at the description of one man’s voice the bard comes up with on the spot.

(if you want more, or wanna see the whole thing, lemme know. I’m debating putting the full version on ao3. Also if you just happen to like my fic, my blog is full of ficlets and fic I’ve written and links to my ao3. Just… just sayin.) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655211/chapters/56780635

[osleyakomwonkru]

The Monster Inside: Octavia Blake and Responsibility

There are a lot of lines that anti-Octavia folks throw around, two of the most common being “Octavia isn’t a leader” and “Octavia doesn’t take responsibility for her actions”.

Now, the first is somewhat true - Octavia is not a natural-born leader. She had to learn how to lead under the most trying of circumstances, in a system with no margin for error and no one else to pass the torch to. No one else who could unite the clans, and even there respect for her was shaky until she earned respect by the sword and took on a more autocratic position.

Which leads into the second: Octavia is acutely aware of the consequences of her actions, but because she’s not a natural leader, the way she takes responsibility for them is different, and this is what fuels both her anger in season 6 and other characters’ dislike of her, because she doesn’t take responsibility the same way they do, and for that reason it seems to them (and much of the audience) that she doesn’t. But she does.

Let’s boil things down to two quotes:

“We’ve all got a monster inside of us, Clarke. And we’re all responsible for what it does when we let it out.” - Lincoln, 2x08

“Your problem isn’t making amends, Clarke. Every time that you do something horrible, you say you’re sorry. And then you do it again. Clarke Griffin and her impossible choices. At least have the balls to stand by them.... Well guess what. The only difference between you and her is that Octavia doesn’t pretend to feel bad about it.” - Raven, 6x04

Now, it is of note that in both of these quotes, the speaker is talking to Clarke - because Clarke is one of the big proponents of the opposite side of “how to take responsibility” from Octavia. And Raven specifically calls that out here. Raven’s still hostile to Octavia (why, I have no idea, since they’ve had one line of dialogue between them since season 3, but that’s a topic for a whole other post), but she acknowledges that Octavia doesn’t shy away from what she is.

That sounds a lot like taking responsibility, doesn’t it? Yes it does.

Octavia was there when Lincoln said the line above to Clarke, and it could be what she’s thinking back to every time she calls herself a monster.

I went on in this post about actions vs intentions, and how while most of the characters of the show fall on the “intentions” side, Octavia’s still standing in the “actions” side, even if she might not want to be there. Even if she longs for the peace that comes with choosing intentions over actions, she’s not willing to cross that line yet.

The same actions vs intentions dichotomy holds true for taking responsibility - while Clarke (and most other characters) go for the “well, if I feel bad and apologize, that means responsibility” side (intentions), Octavia is still as unshakable on this as she ever was. She takes responsibility by action, and that’s one of the greatest things about her. She knows words are empty. Actions are what matter, especially when it comes to something like responsibility.

So let’s take a look at some of those, shall we?

1. She consistently puts herself in the line of fire.

This starts with the Conclave - while most citizens of Earth are ensconced in safe zones, Octavia’s out there fighting for them, fighting for humanity, so that they have the chance to survive Praimfaya. She take down a hallway of belligerents outside the farm during the Skaikru mutiny by herself. She leads her army into battle and is right there on the front lines.

These are not ways that leaders typically take “responsibility” - Lexa says it herself: “Truth is, we must look into the eyes of our warriors and say go die for me.”

But Octavia won’t do that. She leads by action, leads by personal responsibility - demanding nothing from her people that she isn’t willing to risk herself.

This also manifests in smaller non-battle ways as well: In 5x06, when Wonkru believes they’re about to be bombed, instead of fleeing for safety, you see her helping an old man towards the bunker. In 3x06 and 6x04, she protects children who are being hunted by people who want to kill them. Her first instinct when there is danger is to help others, not to protect herself. Similarly, in 5x06, she turns down the idea of asking for Jackson’s professional medical care over Clarke’s field medicine, because others need him and his expertise more than she does.

2. She knows the numbers.

A leader who doesn’t care about their people doesn’t know anything about them. But she does. She knows. Just like her political mentor, Jaha, though I don’t think her short time with him gave her this, she just came to it on her own - because she values each and every one of those lives, just like Jaha did.

“Alex Murphy. Convicted of theft of rationed medicine. He stole it to take care of you. I remember them all.” - Jaha to Murphy, 2x10

[And how many people died from Sector 5 in the Culling when you sucked the air out of their lungs?] “42. Would you like to know their names?” - Jaha to Raven, 4x02

[Exactly how many people should we be prepping for extraction?] [1200.] “814.” - Octavia to McCreary and Bellamy, 5x02

“We lost 417 people in that gorge.” - Octavia to Abby and Kane, 6x01

She knows her people. She knows each and every one of them - what they’re capable of, what they’ve done, what they can do.

3. She calls herself a monster (and doesn’t understand why others aren’t willing to do the same about themselves).

Octavia’s goal was always the survival of her people, and delivering them to the promised land. Since she failed at attaining this goal, in her actions vs intentions dichotomy, that means that no matter how noble her intentions were, she’s a monster, a villain, because her actions didn’t bring the deliverance that they needed to for her to be able to justify them.

She knows what she had to do for her people was horrific. Monstrous. Terrible. She knows that. She accepts the responsibility for that. She doesn’t hide behind platitudes like everyone else does. She has no issue calling herself a monster as a result, and she can’t understand why others can sleep at night without considering themselves such as well. After all, they’ve done just as many things, if not more, of dubious morality as she has. Yet somehow only she’s the monster? That doesn’t make sense to her, nor does it make sense to me.

4. Even though she’s called out people like Abby and Kane in private, she hasn’t done it in public.

Octavia has had multiple opportunities to reveal Abby and Kane’s dark deeds to the rest of Wonkru - but she hasn’t. Even when it would be in the best interests of her own mental health to do it, such as in 6x02, she still hasn’t done it. She is still carrying that burden, letting people hate her and only her.

She bears it, so they don’t have to. Not only the decisions that she made, but the decisions that others made that she had to enforce. Kane and Abby can sleep better at night because Octavia is bearing the weight of their decisions for them. She shouldn’t have to, but she does, since she feels responsible for all of them.

What’s more, she still hasn’t revealed the truths of what happened in the bunker - not to Bellamy, not to any other members of Spacekru. Perhaps she doesn’t think it would make any difference to how they perceive her. Perhaps she thinks it is still her cross to bear and not anyone else’s, and that they don’t need to know. I don’t know, but in either case, she’s still bearing burdens that no one else has to, and she does it willingly.

5. She doesn’t regret her actions, she regrets the necessity of them.

In the quote up above, Raven says that Octavia “doesn’t pretend to feel bad about it [her actions]”. Well, Raven is both right and wrong. Octavia doesn’t speak the platitudes that people like Clarke, who Raven is calling out, do. But Octavia does feel the moral weight of her decisions. Boy, does she ever. You can see them weigh on her even now.

But she can’t regret them. Regretting them would mean regretting that she wanted to save her people. Regretting that she saved what she believed was the last of the human race. That seems to be a pretty bizarre thing that people want her to regret.

She does regret the necessity of her horrific actions. She wishes she didn’t have to make all of the decisions that she did for their survival and well-being. She regrets that they ended up, well, not entirely for naught, but partially so, since only half of her people survived (or a third, depending on if you count from Praimfaya or from when the bunker was opened). But she doesn’t regret saving what she could of her people. She can’t.

She fights for her people. She knows them all. She shoulders their burdens. She keeps their secrets. She holds herself responsible for the moral and ethical crimes of over a thousand people. She bears it so they don’t have to.

At the start of the Dark Year, in the cafeteria, she said “I give all of myself to you.”

And she did.

Octavia Blake isn’t a monster. She’s a martyr.

[marquis1305]

Calm Before the Storm

For the lovely @saffyre-viral  featuring my Damaia, and their Inquisitor Saturn Lavellan. (I still adore this pairing far too much.) For a head canon about drunken shenanigans, that turned into way too much fluff.

Damaia leans over the rails, looking out at the garden. The same place that Saturn can always find her.  Her hair fluttering in the soft breeze.  

She turns her head to smile at the inquisitor.

“You had said you wanted to talk, Inquisitor?”

“Yes,” Saturn chews at their lip. “About what you did for me.”

“You seem a bit nervous, my dear Inquisitor, why don't we go somewhere a little more comfortable?”

“More comfortable than your chamber, Damaia?”

“Yeah, funny how that pile of reports ruins any chances I have at relaxing there. They are just there, staring at me.” Damaia smirks, then offers her hand to Saturn. “Come on, I know a spot in the tavern, just above all the noise.”

The two make their way through the courtyard, heading towards the Herald's Rest. Damaia leads Saturn to the second level, into a corner with a table that overlooks the first floor. The music floating softly above the muted din of the tavern.  

“Always seems like this corner is almost removed from the rest, you can see everything, but its quieter than anywhere else, except maybe Cole's spot.” Chuckling, she holds out a seat for Saturn.  

“I wouldn't have thought that you would prefer the quiet Damaia,” Saturn allows their curiosity to show. Taking the offered chair, and watching Damaia sit across from them.  

Damaia shrugs, a wistful smile spreading on her face. “I come here before any major trip, I think Varric has officially dubbed my little trips here ‘the calm before the storm'. Little more poetic than I might put it, for me, I just like to quiet the noise in my head now and then. “

“He does have a gift for prose, but I still don't quite understand? You choose a room set apart from most of the soldiers, above the gardens. I would think that would be quite quiet enough, no?” Saturn takes Damaia's hand when she offers it. Smiling as the Qunari places a kiss to the knuckles.  

“Nah, there is a difference between quieting my head and having so much quiet all I can do is think,” she laughs easily as she speaks. “The gardens are peaceful, I like to do my thinking there. A comfortable place to go through reports. But here, here I don't have to think, I can just exist.”

A few seconds later, the bartender comes by to drop off two tankards of ale, and a plate of meat and cheese. Damaia accepts them with a smile and passes a few coins to the man. Lifting her tankard to take a long draw. Eyes lighting up with mirth as she watches Saturn carefully do the same.  

"Careful with that, Cabot doesn't exactly make his drinks with petite elves in mind. Ancient Elvhen or not," it wasn't quite Maraas-lok; but Damaia knew from experience that Cabot's drinks ran stronger than almost anywhere else in Thedas. And he always gave her a double.

"I do believe that I know my own limit, Damaia," their face had scrunched up at the taste of the liquor. Making Damaia think of a kitten who ate something sour.

Damaia realized that this was the first time that she had seen Saturn drink anything other than water, or a few sips of wine.  

She couldn't stop the mischievous smile from spreading across her face.  

"If you say so, my dear Inquisitor," taking another deep pull from her own tankard, Damaia shrugs at Saturn. The Inquisitor was a full-grown elf, who had technically been alive longer than just about anyone else in Thedas. Damaia wasn't going to stop them from making bad choices.  

Not when she fully intended to make a few herself.  

"Now, about what I had wanted to talk about earlier," Saturn's voice lifts quietly from behind their mug.  

"Yes?"

"Why?"

Damaia pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Why what? Why throw some fancy party? Why do something to show you how special you are to me? Why go out of my way to ensure I included a multitude of our friends, so I could share that moment with them as well, and willingly show them that I can accept their help? Why....?"

Saturn's blush was only partially hidden by their taking another drink. It offered a moment of near silence.  

When, once again, they set the mug upon the table, the very tips of their ears had begun to tinge a light pink. Damaia pretended she didn't watch Saturn closely enough to have noticed.  

"Why me? What you did was... No one had ever done anything like that for me before. I don't understand."

Setting down her drink, Damaia moves smoothly to kneel before Saturn. Bringing her just under the other's eye height. "Because you are you. Because you excite me, and make me curious, and calm me all at once. Because whenever my parents told me about the bond that gave them the strength to leave the Qun, I had never understood what they meant, until we chose each other. Because you are strong, and proud, and worthy of so much more than life has given you; so, if I can give you back a fraction of what you should be, I will do so. Because I don't know how to express the things I think and feel, except through overly dramatic actions."

She is taken by surprise when Saturn flings themselves into Damaia's arms. Whether the drink had finally taken hold, or they were truly impressed by her honest confession, Damaia was unsure. All she knew to do was wrap her arms tightly around her petite elf. Pressing her nose into the pale silky hair. Cradling the Inquisitor to her.  

"Damaia," came the muffled voice, "I-"

"No. Not right now. Right now, you just drink and relax, and let the world fall away. And I'll be here to catch you, should you start to fall with it."

"Don't let go." Whispered, the words make Damaia's heart soar.

She stands, lifting Saturn with her. Moving back towards her chair, Saturn curling tightly into her lap. Damaia shifts slightly, grabbing Saturn's tankard and returning it to their hands. Then goes to grab her own. Making sure that one hand is on Saturn's back at all times, keeping them close.  

"Now, let us get back to drinking, so that we may laugh and make merry!" Teasing tones pull a smile to Saturn's face, matching Damaia's own. Knocking their tankards together, albeit a little awkwardly, the two drink deeply. Damaia feeling her mind begin to glaze over. She could only imagine how the liquor might be affecting Saturn.  

The purring might have been an indication.  

Taking the last swig of her drink, Damaia sets the tankard aside. Then runs her fingers through Saturn's hair, nuzzling her cheek on the top of their head. Enjoying the small vibrating noise coming from her small companion.  

It didn't take too long for Saturn to finish their drink after that.  

And even less time for Cabot to stop by and drop off two more.  

Watching Saturn reach for their new tankard, while refusing to move from their position on Damaia's lap was more than likely the highlight of Damaia's day. Her rumbling laughter carrying over the music.  

"Perhaps you might be more comfortable if I were to place you back in your seat?" Leaning forward just enough for Saturn to reach the mug.  

"No." Was the only response Saturn deigned to give. Snatching the tankard before them.  

"As you please, dear Inquisitor." Damaia took up her new drink to sip at it. At the rate Saturn was going, Damaia knew that they were going to need assistance at some point. And as much as she enjoyed the prospect of getting blitzed with her lover, it wouldn't be very responsible of her.

"You do many things that please me."

It took everything to focus on choking down the liquid in her mouth, rather than attempt to breath, or think, or speak.

Pausing, to ensure that no further mishaps would occur, Damaia swallows hard.  

"I'm not quite certain I caught that Saturn," hesitancy creeps into her voice. Yes, she and Saturn had become more romantically involved. But Damaia had not once broached any physical aspect.  

She was too afraid that everything they were building would fall back into the same pattern she had lived in since she joined the mercs at sixteen. And as Saturn hadn't spoken on the topic, Damaia was never quite certain if they were even interested in that line of thought.  

She couldn't be sure if they had meant what she thought they said.  

Or if it was just her intoxicated mind playing tricks on her.  

"I said, you do many things that please me, Damaia," their fingertips running down her biceps made the utterance a little more real.  

"Careful, Inquisitor, talk like that and a girl might get ideas," flirting was easy. Playful was easy. The slightly edged tone to her words, she blamed on the alcohol.

"Perhaps I want you to." Damaia narrowed her eyes, even as Saturn returned to their drink, their fingers still on Damaia's arm.  

She did her best to ignore the chills running down her spine.  

Instead, Damaia puts her tankard back onto the table. Then slowly moves her hands to Saturn's waist, shifting the other until they are straddled across Damaia's lap. Gazed locked tightly. Damaia searching Saturn's face for any hesitation.  

She moves slowly, ensuring that every action is readable in its intent.  

Tanking the mug from Saturn's clasping hands, setting it aside. Fingers of her other hand splayed softly on Saturn's back.  

Lifting her hand to cup Saturn's cheek. Letting her thumb brush against the smooth skin.  

"Damaia?" Their voice holds a familiar edge of curiousity.  

"Yes?"

"Since when did you get horns? Why wasn't I told?" Saturn surges forward to explore this new discovery, nearly toppling both of them out of the chair with the action.  

Dumbfounded, Damaia can't hold back her boisterous laughter. "I am pretty certain that I have had them since birth, or at least as long as you have known me."

"No! I hadn't noticed them before. That can't be true?!" Saturn grips one of the horns tightly, yanking down Damaia's head to allow further access. Damaia winces, certain that this particular exploration will end with a headache that has nothing to do with the excess of liquor.  

Not quite how she had pictured this scene playing out just a moment before.  

"Yes, I am fairly certain. Most Qunari do have them, just look at Bull's..." She raises an eyebrow to glare, amusement tracing through the expression.  

"Yeah, but his are so noticeable! You had to have been hiding them in your hair..." Saturn's fingers begin to trace the edges, and Damaia hisses at the sensation on the sensitive skin. "Oh, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The sudden concern was endearing.

"No, Saturn. That spot is just a little more sensitive to the touch than the rest."

"Oh.... So, then this...."Soft lips touch the joint, and Damaia's eyes flutter. Breath catching in her throat. Apparently, this was going to be a night full of surprises.  

"Yes, that." She chokes out the words. The Elvhen's curiosity might actually be the death of her. Especially as she felt Saturn's breathy giggle against her skin. Damaia reaches up to grab Saturn's wrist, pulling her gently away, until they are at eye level with each other once more. "You are being quite bold, dear Inquisitor."

"Why do you always call me that?" Saturn's gaze, though glossy, is intense. Their wrists trapped in Damaia's grasp, pulse drumming against her fingers.  

"I do not know what else to call you. I am not my parents, I would not call you Kadan, although you are dear to me. I am not Tevinter, though my father taught me some small smattering of Tevene, so I would not name you Amatus. I am a woman of actions, Saturn, not words," Damaia feels her chest tighten as she looks deep into the other's eyes. Trying to show everything that she hadn't been able to say. "But right now, you are not in a place for me to really show you how I feel. When I do, I want you to remember every sensation, every feeling, not have it hidden in a drunken haze."

She runs her finger's over Saturn's pulse, pressing a kiss to each hand, as she has for months now.

Ignoring the way every instinct inside of her pressed her to push for more. To claim this magnificent person and ensure that they would never leave.

"Come on, little one. Let's get you some water, and a warm bed. Lest you regret all of this in the morning."

"Stay with me,"Saturn's voice is small and quiet, as Damaia lifts them in her arms. Cradled against her chest, as Damaia had done the day they had seen their beast form.  

"Always."

[icharchivist]

still, for all that is about DA that is kind of just “I play it like that because that’s how i feel”, and the fact my characters all have a rather Neutral Good moral compass, I still love that I can really feel the difference between my characters?

Long OCs ramble bc I can wouhouh!

Kurai, my very first Warden, a Dalish Elf, was probably the character I thought the least about because she was my very first character and I was suuper confused by the story. But still, she was a good person. She had a huge sense of honor, and she was respectful until people weren’t with her, in which case she would end them. She was a warrior, she was upfront. She was kind and compassionate, but she was also probably my most moral character. Since she was saved by the Wardens, she has great respect for their order, knowing she could have died. So to her, fighting for the greater good is an honor. While realizing how much work is ahead, she stood proud and wasn’t afraid. She had to do it. That’s probably why her and Alistair ended up being an item, they work out of each other there.

Laven, my second Warden, a City Elf, was much more cynical. She was bitter, she knew the world wasn’t fair. She wanted to do good, but if she had to get her hands dirty, she would. She would fight for the underdogs, and she would insult those she deemed unworthy. She was a free electron in her own way (which in a way is why it doesn’t bother me in dai that she did leave alone with Zevran to find a way against the Calling without warning anyone, seems like her). Also, ye, her romance with Zevran just fits her so much, since the ending of Awakening having her running away with Zevran in Antiva to fight the Crows by his sides is 100% her. And in the end, she mostly did everything because she was dragged into it for the worst way possible and there was no way she stood by when the world was falling apart. She would fight with her frustration and anger, but wasn’t scared. Too bitter for that.

The best parallelism between Kurai and Laven is how they both handled meeting the King and arriving to the Landsmeet. While Kurai didn’t like Shems, she knew she was out of her elements meeting the King, so she was respectful, knowing she was living by others people’s rules. In the Landsmeet, despite her dislike for Loghain, she stayed contained and calm knowing the stakes. Laven, however, insulted the King the first time she saw him because she was angry at how everything was in Denerim, and she was bitter. She’s been taken away because she brought justice, she won’t be any nice now. The fact the King showed regrets touched her in a way, but she was still angry. And in the Landsmeet, she made all the aggressive comments possible against Loghain and Howe, because her blood was boiling, and damn the consequences. She has come this far, it won’t be for Shems to take it away from her.

In a way Laven is probably my most ruthless character - and despite that she still was quite kind and nice. I still did every morally good things I could. But i also picked up all the stealing and stuff quest because that’s how much she didn’t care. She became the Dark Wolf too, which is neat.

Alma, my Hawke, was a Green/Diplomatic/Helpful Rogue, and she was just. Trying so hard. My reasoning was always that, she was always there for her family. She was overprotective, she took all the burden she could. She would get aggressive if you threatened her family. She’d get charismatic in order to distract people from her world falling apart, or to distract them from her sister. So she was cracking jokes from time to time, she was easy going, but always full of duty. She ended up being extremely involved in mage’s rights because she would have done everything for her sister. Once she was taken by the circle, this became even a stronger feeling.  So it did lead her to get close to Anders more easily because she felt strongly about his plight. And why the ending of the game hurt her this much, because it wasn’t the way. She was respectful and kind, sometimes snarky, aggressive if you hurt what she loved, she was taking the burden of the world on her shoulders, and ended up being defeated by it. In a way, Alma was positive. she knew from the begining she was in a corner, and tried to fight her way out of it with a smile on her face, and the world did everything to have her crumble until she couldn’t take it anymore. She’s by far the most tragic one.

And finally Laena, my Inquisitor - She was anxious from the start. None of it was ever meant to happen. It’s not like she liked the Circle, but she had a place and a very small world to take care of until the rebellion. Hell, the fact the Circle was such a small world isolated her, she was in no way ready to deal with the Whole World, she wasn’t meant to. Her survival at the Conclave is a miracle, and immediatly after that, she was asked to stand and fight. She realized she had no choice pretty quickly, but she was devasted from the start. A survivor’s complex in a way, she was the only one who made it out - and people would say it was because she was chosen and it freaked her out. She wasn’t worth choosing. She didn’t want to be chosen. The revelation that all was just dumb luck is even worse, because she doesn’t consider herself special, she didn’t walk this path willingly, nothing prepared her for that. And now so many people lay her hope on her, and it scares her. She has to act strong, to help everyone, people are expecting so much of her, and she knows she can’t show weakness. But she was completely unprepared for this mess, and even now that all is over - especially now that all is over - she is completely lost. Where to go now, how to make it all work? This is frightening. And she has to stay collected, to give people’s hope, but at what cost? But she will always feel like it’s not her place, like she cannot judge, that she wasn’t made for this. And, that’s why I could see her fall for Cullen too. As an advisor he was always giving her advice, always helping her doing so. She could let her guard down around him, she could tell him how she only felt terrified, and he would reassure her. He brought her reassurance and stability, and she knew he wasn’t expecting of her to do everything on her own. He brought her the comfort she needed. His own fears of not being strong enough, of fucking up again, of letting people down, resonated with her and they could help each other out. It brought comfort.

I played all of my characters to be rather nice, pick good choices, fighting for those who needed it. And tbh I was kinda scared that maybe it made them all too similar but I end up thinking about it, and no. They are all so different.

Kurai was proud and strong, and even if slightly scared at time, she stood tall and her bravery took over everything. She knew she had to do what she had to do and she did it.

Laven was bitter and furious at life. She did what she had to because there was no way she was going to show defeat. She wasn’t scared, she was angry, and if her life hadn’t defeated her until then, it’s not an archdemon who will.

Alma was optimistic, sweet and kind, funny and gentle, but the world around her did everything to break her. To make her unable to carry it on. Alma ended her journey sad, and left alone. Also in my timeline I had her kill Anders, her lover, so it’s like, kind of horrifying for her too. Everyone and Everything pushed her world to fall apart, and the whole World blamed her for it. She went from optimistic to defeated, sad, heavy, wondering if it even mattered, if how much she sacrificed was even worth it.

Laena was anxious from the start - scared. She was unsure and still is unsure. Nothing reassured her, everything just added weight on her shoulders, weight she was never meant to carry, something she knows happened just because of her compassion and dumb luck. So now she’s trying to hold it all together because that’s what people need of her - and she realizes that the world needs her, even if she doesn’t know how. More than all the others, she relies on the people around her. She tries to stand tall, but unlike Alma who did it to convince herself it’ll be okay, she does it solly for people’s around her.

And I really like that, despite their similitudes, I feel so strongly for each of them. I am proud of each of them so much.

I was also kinda scared I self projected on them in a way, since it always end up happening creating ocs, but their differences make up for what I think. It’s kinda funny dkjhdjfk I see a bit of myself in all of them. Kurai’s gentleness, Laven’s frustration, Alma’s trying to handle the world crashing down with a smile while she’s herself crumbling, and Laena’s anxiety and urge to carry on when she never asked for it, despair contained by her duty to others. I love them all.

[preciousmetals0]

Tax Agencies Step Up Efforts to Hone in on Crypto Tax Evasion

Tax Agencies Step Up Efforts to Hone in on Crypto Tax Evasion:

The year 2019, for a short while, raised expectations that stablecoins would bring about mass adoption of cryptocurrencies. 2020, however, seems to be dousing those hopes with ever-tightening regulation that is putting pressure on investors and companies alike.

The first complication came only 10 days into the year. In early January, the European Union’s landmark Fifth Anti-Money Laundering Directive, or 5AMLD, was signed into law. The law is the latest evolution of the EU’s response to the Panama Papers scandal, in which a leak of over 11 million documents uncovered the opaque financial networks used by the world’s richest and most prominent individuals to divert wealth overseas.

The era-defining financial scandal shone a light on a controversial characteristic of international finance that would soon spell trouble for cryptocurrency investors and businesses the world over: anonymity.

Lawmakers are constantly striving to tighten the legal loopholes that allow the world’s richest companies and individuals to avoid paying their dues. Try as they might, there are still states, often small island nations in the Caribbean, that willingly provide less legally restrictive environments.

Choosing to divert financial flows offshore is often not illegal at all, but the emphasis that companies such as the now-disgraced Mossack Fonseca place on privacy means that it is difficult for law authorities to bring individuals using such networks for criminal activities, such as money laundering, tax evasion or terrorist financing, to justice.

From the 5AMLD to central bank digital currencies, governments and regulators are acting on their belief that the identities of individuals behind anonymous transactions should be made available to authorities upon request.

Additionally, even though the United Kingdom is set to leave the EU in roughly one week’s time, its anti-money laundering regulations closely match the 5AMLD, and recent events indicate that measures are being increased even further to prevent cryptocurrency from being used to flout the law.

The taxman cometh

One of the criticisms of post-Brexit Britain is that it will relax financial regulation in order to form lucrative trade deals in the wake of its departure from the EU single market. Although the U.K. has seen numerous financial scandals, its tax agency is looking to minimize the blind spots in the defenses against crime involving cryptocurrency.

Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs announced that it had posted a $130,000 open contract call to develop a tool to help the tax agency gather intelligence through cluster analysis. The announcement is the latest step on behalf of European lawmakers to break through the anonymous qualities of cryptocurrencies, taking aim at both the biggest coins and privacy tokens, such as Monero (XMR), Zcash (ZEC) and Dash (DASH).

As previously reported by Cointelegraph, although most users of such coins use them for entirely honest purposes, both law authorities and regulators are concerned by the potential for privacy coins to be used for nefarious activities, such as the sale of illicit drugs on the darknet, as well as terrorist financing and money laundering.

The regulatory changes and mounting compliance demands did not surprise Dash Core Group Chief Marketing Officer Fernando Guitierrez. In an email conversation with Cointelegraph, Gutierrez put forward his view that the changes will not only be a hindrance to companies but also to the average consumer. He believes that: “This was all bound to happen.” He added that there was little chance that a growing industry would escape unnoticed:

“All these changes will make anonymity more difficult for the average consumer, as more exchanges comply and implement KYC. Those exchanges who don’t will be forced to jump from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, which will impose extra costs that only those committed to anonymity will be willing to pay. For criminals, this will change nothing because they are in that group, among many others who are not criminals, who are willing to pay more.”

The offering of the open contract from the HMRC is a signal that it is committed to effectively ramping up its blockchain forensics capabilities. Rich Sanders, principal and lead investigator at the Cipherblade Ltd blockchain analytics firm, told Cointelegraph that such a small contract is unlikely to shake up the system to any great extent:

“As for this particular initiative, a £100,000 software contract for a year says something but not very much in the grand scheme of things.”

How effective are blockchain forensics tools?

While data about transactions using cryptocurrency is stored on the blockchain, it is not possible to identify individuals from this information alone. Prior to the recent changes in legislation, blockchain analytics companies cooperated with intelligence agencies to link suspicious account activity to the individuals behind them.

Although the powers given to law authorities and compliance organizations under the 5AMLD are likely to radically change the way in which such procedures are carried out, Sanders believes that analytics tools are not a one-time fix for all anonymous crypto activity since: “Blockchain analytics tools do not inherently and directly crack the anonymity,” or, more accurately, the pseudonymity, which is an attribute of blockchains. Therefore, forensic tools are only one element of a comprehensive investigative toolkit. He went on to add:

“The way, in which a blockchain analytics tool can help in linking the pseudonymous blockchain identity to an individual is by tracing cryptocurrency from/to initial/terminal destinations such as exchanges and other services, from which data can then be requested — which will often require a subpoena to be served or, at a minimum, another legally constrained form of data request.”

Sanders explained that, when examining the powers of blockchain analytics tools in bringing tax evaders to justice, it is important to note that there must first be pre-existing suspicion of wrongdoing:

“Blockchain analytics tools are likely to be brought to bear only in cases of existing and substantiated suspicion and are not themselves suited to finding potential tax evaders in the sea of cryptocurrency users. If that’s what you want to do, you’ll have a better time — as I once semi-seriously advised IRS employees — browsing through Reddit and looking at the chest-beating about tax evasion there (by accounts with poor OPSEC).”

Many in the sector welcome the regulatory changes. This chummy approach to cooperation with state organizations is not, however, shared by all. Dash Core Group’s Gutierrez told Cointelegraph that, in spite of their duty to protect, not all governments and intelligence agencies honor this:

“This has happened even in democratic countries, so we can’t assume that everything they do is fair or well-intentioned. Only where there is a real separation of powers, and the judicial one has consented, on a case by case basis, they should have such a right, if technically possible. If that can’t be guaranteed — and it can’t — it is better if they stay away.”

How will regulation affect crypto?

Cryptocurrency is still a young industry and faces many challenges on the road to becoming a mature sector that can compete with wider mainstream finance, should that ever happen. The steady increase in regulatory and compliance demands are only to be expected as the nascent crypto industry inches closer to being used by a greater customer base.

Regardless of the titans of the tech industry toying with the idea of starting cryptocurrencies of their own, even some of the larger financial companies simply cannot take on the high level of risk associated with crypto at its current stage.

Some industry leaders recognize this turn as a welcome sign that digital currencies are being taken more seriously by regulators and lawmakers around the world. For others of a more anarchistic philosophical standing, the loss of anonymity is a loss of one of the core precepts behind the entire reason for cryptocurrency’s being.

Gutierrez says that, while regulation is bound to happen to any growing financial industry, the costs associated with being regulated to an extreme level could well choke out smaller players and lead to an eventual stagnation:

“The constant introduction of new regulations is already changing the industry. Compliance costs have grown so much that only big players can afford them. This is only going to get worse. We will have fewer new projects and that will hinder innovation. I foresee a future, in which the blockchain industry resembles more and more the financial industry it proclaimed it would replace: well-funded players, slow change and lawyers everywhere.”

While Gutierrez foresees a slowdown in the near future, Andrew Adcock, CEO of the London-based crowdfunding platform Crowd for Angels, told Cointelegraph that the firm has not picked up on any discernible change in investor behavior in the wake of the regulatory changes:

“We haven’t seen a large change in investor and consumer attitudes, however, there has been a notable increase from companies seeking to implement changes and abide by the new regulation. I believe this is positive and will provide great protection for investors.”

Although any kind of attempt to hinder the supposedly essential core characteristics of cryptocurrency will create intense debate among investors, industry leaders and regulatory bodies, not all people are so fussed about the changes.

Adcock said that many of the clients at Crowd for Angels are not overly interested in the topic. Despite the doomsayers of the crypto industry, Adcock maintained his view that regulation is something to be encouraged and does not believe that this will alienate investors: “There will always be those who seek anonymity, and this might be challenged by regulation, but harmony between both positions can co-exist.”

[goldira01]

The year 2019, for a short while, raised expectations that stablecoins would bring about mass adoption of cryptocurrencies. 2020, however, seems to be dousing those hopes with ever-tightening regulation that is putting pressure on investors and companies alike.

The first complication came only 10 days into the year. In early January, the European Union’s landmark Fifth Anti-Money Laundering Directive, or 5AMLD, was signed into law. The law is the latest evolution of the EU’s response to the Panama Papers scandal, in which a leak of over 11 million documents uncovered the opaque financial networks used by the world’s richest and most prominent individuals to divert wealth overseas.

The era-defining financial scandal shone a light on a controversial characteristic of international finance that would soon spell trouble for cryptocurrency investors and businesses the world over: anonymity.

Lawmakers are constantly striving to tighten the legal loopholes that allow the world’s richest companies and individuals to avoid paying their dues. Try as they might, there are still states, often small island nations in the Caribbean, that willingly provide less legally restrictive environments.

Choosing to divert financial flows offshore is often not illegal at all, but the emphasis that companies such as the now-disgraced Mossack Fonseca place on privacy means that it is difficult for law authorities to bring individuals using such networks for criminal activities, such as money laundering, tax evasion or terrorist financing, to justice.

From the 5AMLD to central bank digital currencies, governments and regulators are acting on their belief that the identities of individuals behind anonymous transactions should be made available to authorities upon request.

Additionally, even though the United Kingdom is set to leave the EU in roughly one week’s time, its anti-money laundering regulations closely match the 5AMLD, and recent events indicate that measures are being increased even further to prevent cryptocurrency from being used to flout the law.

The taxman cometh

One of the criticisms of post-Brexit Britain is that it will relax financial regulation in order to form lucrative trade deals in the wake of its departure from the EU single market. Although the U.K. has seen numerous financial scandals, its tax agency is looking to minimize the blind spots in the defenses against crime involving cryptocurrency.

Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs announced that it had posted a $130,000 open contract call to develop a tool to help the tax agency gather intelligence through cluster analysis. The announcement is the latest step on behalf of European lawmakers to break through the anonymous qualities of cryptocurrencies, taking aim at both the biggest coins and privacy tokens, such as Monero (XMR), Zcash (ZEC) and Dash (DASH).

As previously reported by Cointelegraph, although most users of such coins use them for entirely honest purposes, both law authorities and regulators are concerned by the potential for privacy coins to be used for nefarious activities, such as the sale of illicit drugs on the darknet, as well as terrorist financing and money laundering.

The regulatory changes and mounting compliance demands did not surprise Dash Core Group Chief Marketing Officer Fernando Guitierrez. In an email conversation with Cointelegraph, Gutierrez put forward his view that the changes will not only be a hindrance to companies but also to the average consumer. He believes that: “This was all bound to happen.” He added that there was little chance that a growing industry would escape unnoticed:

“All these changes will make anonymity more difficult for the average consumer, as more exchanges comply and implement KYC. Those exchanges who don’t will be forced to jump from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, which will impose extra costs that only those committed to anonymity will be willing to pay. For criminals, this will change nothing because they are in that group, among many others who are not criminals, who are willing to pay more.”

The offering of the open contract from the HMRC is a signal that it is committed to effectively ramping up its blockchain forensics capabilities. Rich Sanders, principal and lead investigator at the Cipherblade Ltd blockchain analytics firm, told Cointelegraph that such a small contract is unlikely to shake up the system to any great extent:

“As for this particular initiative, a £100,000 software contract for a year says something but not very much in the grand scheme of things.”

How effective are blockchain forensics tools?

While data about transactions using cryptocurrency is stored on the blockchain, it is not possible to identify individuals from this information alone. Prior to the recent changes in legislation, blockchain analytics companies cooperated with intelligence agencies to link suspicious account activity to the individuals behind them.

Although the powers given to law authorities and compliance organizations under the 5AMLD are likely to radically change the way in which such procedures are carried out, Sanders believes that analytics tools are not a one-time fix for all anonymous crypto activity since: “Blockchain analytics tools do not inherently and directly crack the anonymity,” or, more accurately, the pseudonymity, which is an attribute of blockchains. Therefore, forensic tools are only one element of a comprehensive investigative toolkit. He went on to add:

“The way, in which a blockchain analytics tool can help in linking the pseudonymous blockchain identity to an individual is by tracing cryptocurrency from/to initial/terminal destinations such as exchanges and other services, from which data can then be requested — which will often require a subpoena to be served or, at a minimum, another legally constrained form of data request.”

Sanders explained that, when examining the powers of blockchain analytics tools in bringing tax evaders to justice, it is important to note that there must first be pre-existing suspicion of wrongdoing:

“Blockchain analytics tools are likely to be brought to bear only in cases of existing and substantiated suspicion and are not themselves suited to finding potential tax evaders in the sea of cryptocurrency users. If that’s what you want to do, you’ll have a better time — as I once semi-seriously advised IRS employees — browsing through Reddit and looking at the chest-beating about tax evasion there (by accounts with poor OPSEC).”

Many in the sector welcome the regulatory changes. This chummy approach to cooperation with state organizations is not, however, shared by all. Dash Core Group’s Gutierrez told Cointelegraph that, in spite of their duty to protect, not all governments and intelligence agencies honor this:

“This has happened even in democratic countries, so we can’t assume that everything they do is fair or well-intentioned. Only where there is a real separation of powers, and the judicial one has consented, on a case by case basis, they should have such a right, if technically possible. If that can’t be guaranteed — and it can’t — it is better if they stay away.”

How will regulation affect crypto?

Cryptocurrency is still a young industry and faces many challenges on the road to becoming a mature sector that can compete with wider mainstream finance, should that ever happen. The steady increase in regulatory and compliance demands are only to be expected as the nascent crypto industry inches closer to being used by a greater customer base.

Regardless of the titans of the tech industry toying with the idea of starting cryptocurrencies of their own, even some of the larger financial companies simply cannot take on the high level of risk associated with crypto at its current stage.

Some industry leaders recognize this turn as a welcome sign that digital currencies are being taken more seriously by regulators and lawmakers around the world. For others of a more anarchistic philosophical standing, the loss of anonymity is a loss of one of the core precepts behind the entire reason for cryptocurrency’s being.

Gutierrez says that, while regulation is bound to happen to any growing financial industry, the costs associated with being regulated to an extreme level could well choke out smaller players and lead to an eventual stagnation:

“The constant introduction of new regulations is already changing the industry. Compliance costs have grown so much that only big players can afford them. This is only going to get worse. We will have fewer new projects and that will hinder innovation. I foresee a future, in which the blockchain industry resembles more and more the financial industry it proclaimed it would replace: well-funded players, slow change and lawyers everywhere.”

While Gutierrez foresees a slowdown in the near future, Andrew Adcock, CEO of the London-based crowdfunding platform Crowd for Angels, told Cointelegraph that the firm has not picked up on any discernible change in investor behavior in the wake of the regulatory changes:

“We haven’t seen a large change in investor and consumer attitudes, however, there has been a notable increase from companies seeking to implement changes and abide by the new regulation. I believe this is positive and will provide great protection for investors.”

Although any kind of attempt to hinder the supposedly essential core characteristics of cryptocurrency will create intense debate among investors, industry leaders and regulatory bodies, not all people are so fussed about the changes.

Adcock said that many of the clients at Crowd for Angels are not overly interested in the topic. Despite the doomsayers of the crypto industry, Adcock maintained his view that regulation is something to be encouraged and does not believe that this will alienate investors: “There will always be those who seek anonymity, and this might be challenged by regulation, but harmony between both positions can co-exist.”

[kookakie-blog]

Answer

PART SIX

Acacia is a girl in highschool only trying to readjust herself to her new surroundings, while keeping her brother out of trouble. Everything has been a boring routine till she ends up on the wrong side of town at the wrong time, this is where she first meets Chen, although the circumstances aren’t the best.

Jongdae’s POV

Sometimes I forget she’s so young. But the realization hits me when she looks up at me with those sad eyes. So innocent. I grab her hand when the elevator opens and lead her out of the huge building. We walk in silence for awhile but slowly Acacia gets closer to me before pressing herself into my side letting me know she wasn’t upset anymore.

I lead her into some store and let her go pick some outfits out as I watched her carefully. I sat in the lounge area in front of the entrance making sure to watch the people coming in as well. I didn’t take her out often out of fear that we’d run into Minho’s men or her brother...

I still didn’t know what to do about her brother. Through surveillance Sehun discovered the mother doesn’t pay much attention to the boy. It hurt me to watch Acacia worry about him and it was obvious the separation was taking a toll on her health. “Are you ok?” I’m brought out of my thoughts to see Acacia struggling to hold a multitude of outfits in her arms. I chuckle as I take the clothes from her arms. “I’m fine why?” She just looks at me curiously as I go to pay for the clothes. “You look worried.” I give her a sad smile before placing a kiss on her head. “I can’t imagine why.” We exit the store and wait a few minutes for one of Suho’s lower men to appear. “Just leave them at the front counter ok?” The man nods at me before driving off with the shopping bags.

“Alright what kind of Ice cream are we eating today sweet girl?” Acacia giggles as I place kisses all over her face as I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Mmmm Strawberry sounds good.” I smile down at her as we continue to walk towards the ice cream parlor. “Then strawberry ice cream is what you’ll get.” We arrive at the shop fairly quickly and order just as fast. I can’t help but admire Acacia as she licks at the pink treat in her hands. “What?” I just shake my head as I lick my own cone. We decided to walk to the nearby park and we were currently sitting on a bench watching as parents and kids ran around.

“This is nice. I missed this.” Acacia tilts her head at me questioning what I meant. “I mean normal things. Like getting ice cream and going to the park...I’ve been working for a long time.” I choose my words carefully as an elderly couple pass us. “How long.” I sigh as I look down at her. She looking me dead in the eyes. “About 7 years give or take.”

“What’s your official position?” I get up to throw my ice cream away suddenly not hungry. I could hear Acacia rush after me as she pulls on my sleeve. “ interrogator. Kai is the first line. When he evaluates a subject and deducts he won’t be able to get the information he needs willingly he’ll turn them over to me. I also do a lot of clean up. Im the safety net if you will.” I place my hand in front of Acacia to stop her from stepping farther up the path where a couple kids were running. “Ok so you make sure that no one really knows about Exo unless Suho allows it.” I nod as I continue to walk farther up the trail. “Exactly. I’ll get the information I need as efficiently as possible.” Acacia stays silent before walking in front of me a little walking backwards so she can look up at me. “So can I call you Jongdae in public or do I have to use your code name.” The girl tilts her head up to me as she continues to walk backwards. “In private you are allowed to call me Jongdae. In public you will have to call me Chen.” Acacia pouts up at me as she stops walking. I give her a small smile before placing a finger under her chin. “Of course that is Junmyeon’s official wishes. My personal ones however are that you call me whatever you please.” I place a kiss on her lips and chuckle when I feel her smile into me.

“Acacia?” I quickly end the kiss before I push Acacia behind me turning to look at who said her name. In front of me I recognized Andrew and his mother and my blood runs cold when I my eyes shift to Minho. The older pair seemed to be out of breathe leading me to believe Andrew must have run off and they had just caught up. “I don’t understand. Baby we thought you were dead.” I keep my hold on Acacia strong afraid that she’ll run to them. “Yeah we were worried sick about you.” I glare at Minho who just smirks at me. I just wanted to slice the bastards throat. I’m brought out of my thoughts when Acacia runs to Andrew who just wraps his tiny arms around her. I look at her crying form and quickly back at Minho.

Acacia’s POV

Oh it felt so good to hug him again. I almost forgot his voice and his smell but it all came rushing back to me and I couldn’t help the tears that rolled down my face. I almost forgot that my mom and Minho were standing just in front of me. “If you hurt my baby I’m going to kill you.” What? I look up to see my mom getting in Jongdae’s face. “Mom stop!” I pull her back only receive I confused look from me. I don’t get to say anything before Jongdae pulls me back to him standing in front of me protectively. “Listen the best thing for you to do is to just leave.” Jongdae glares at Minho as I grab onto the back of his shirt. “Have you forgotten who I am? I made you boy.” I tighten my grip on Jongdae’s shirt and twist as I take in Minho’s words. I snap out of it when I see Minho reach from his waistband. The rest was such a blur. My mom registered the situation before me going to step in front of the gun. Minho doesn’t even flinch before shooting through her. The bullet grazes a tree just barely missing Jongdae and I. “Shit. I needed her.” I stare numbly at my mothers body before Jongdae rushes to pick Andrew up. He grabs my wrist before running through the trees. “Get back here you low life.” We don’t make it very far before I hear a gunshot and Jongdae cry out shortly after. He tumbled to the ground Andrew falling with him. I quickly run back to him to see that he was him in the stomach. He groans before standing up again. “We need to keep going.”

But my world stops when I hear Andrew’s voice. “Acacia.” His voice breaks as he continues to cry as Minho presses the gun into the boys temple. “I don’t have any patience for this.” And with that I watch him kill my brother. This time I scream when the gun goes off. Everything hurt. Jongdae leans up on his arm before throwing one of his knifes at Minho. He hits him in the gut causing the man to double over in pain. “Come on.” I ignore jongdae’s pull on my arm as I cradle my brothers lifeless body. “We can’t stay here Acacia.” I just sob as I feel Jongdae struggle to pull the boy from my arms taking me in his instead. I just continue to sob as he gets us out of the park as soon as possible. We weren’t even at the end of the block before we heard the police sirens.

Everything was mush. I didn’t even notice that we had entered a building until I heard a ding from an elevator. As soon as it begins to go down Jongdae falls to the ground his back against the wall. I scramble out of his arms and press my back into the corner. My cries get even louder when I see his chin on his chest which was barely moving. “Wake up. Jongdae wake up you can’t leave me too.” I quickly pull his jacket off and his knife vest before starting on his shirt. The elevator door opens up again and the familiar sound of music and the smell of cigarette smoke met my senses.

“Help!” I scream as I fumble with Jongdae’s blood soaked shirt. “Help! Kris Junmyeon!” I hear rapid footsteps behind me as I finally get the damn shirt off of him. I look down at the bullet wound my hands shaking as the hover over it. “Oh my god.” I hear someone shriek behind me before a man comes to crouch next to me. “Let me see.” I just shake my head as I pull Jongdae’s head up as I try to get him to wake up. “Please Jongdae please!” The man tries to grab my wrist but I just shake him off. “I can’t help him if she doesn’t move.” I’m suddenly being dragged away as the man that was next to me moves to look at Jongdae’s wound. “No! Let me go! Stop!” I scream and thrash around as the much taller figure just pulls me closer to him. “It’s me kid it’s just me.” I relax a little when I hear Kris’s smoke scented voice. Suddenly Junmyeon is in front of me. “Acacia what happened??” Panic begins to set in again as I just shake my head. “It happened so fast. We were just at the park and my brother must have seen me and ran after us. Minho was there and my mom. I hadn’t seen him in so long I almost forgot what he smelled like.” I feel tears sting my eyes again as I sink to the ground Kris trying to support me. “What happened after Acacia? Why is Jongdae hurt??” I continue to sob as I lean back into Kris. “Minho pulled out a gun and my mom tried to stop him. And he shot her. And he just threw her away like garbage. Jongdae picked up Andrew and started running and I guess I followed. But I heard another gunshot and Jongdae fell and so did Andrew. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t even know he grabbed Andrew. How did I not notice? How? He was right there then he wasn’t. Jongdae stabbed Minho and he ran off I guess. He was so warm when I hugged him first but he got cold so fast. So fast....” I manage to choke out what happened before my mind wanders back and the scene begins to replay again the pain just as harsh as the first time. “Junmyeon.Kris I need help carrying him to a car. We need to get him to my office fast!” I look up numbly to see the man who took my spot beside Jongdae had blood all over his hands and a bullet places in his palm but Jongdae still remained still. “Is he? He can’t be.” Kris looks down at me before I feel a pair of hands wrap around my shoulders.

“You need to stay here with me sweetie ok?” I look up to see Winry looking down at me. She tightens her grip on my as Kris,Junmyeon and the other man carries Jongdae towards some cars the mechanic man following them with some keys. Her grip wasn’t necessary. I was too numb to follow.

[love-god-forever]

Who Heals the Wounds in Her Heart and Gives Her a Warm Home

By Xiaolin, United States

My family was broken up.

A loud noise broke the stillness of the night, and it stirred me and my elder sister from sleep. I knew that father and mother were again quarreling. Since mother knew father had an affair, she smiled less and less, and as soon as father was mentioned, a faint look of complaint and sorrow would come into her eyes. Also from then on, they never stopped quarreling, and I was unable to remember how many times they had quarreled. Now, my elder sister and I cried and ran to their bedroom. When seeing father was trying to beat mother as he shouted abuse at her, I ran forward and tightly gripped his arm with tears in my eyes, but I failed to stop him because of his being too strong for me. That night, two of mother’s rigs were broken. This time, she could not bear living such a life anymore, so she went to other parts of the country for work.

However, father did not change a little bit as a result, but as usual, often stayed out all night and did not care about my sister and me, so that we had to go and live with our grandparents. Every day, on our way to and from school, seeing other kids were all accompanied by their parents while my sister and I were alone, I felt we were especially lonely. Because of such a home environment, my test scores, which were originally good, went down sharply. What I feared most was the teacher-parent meeting that my school convened, because when my head teacher did not see my parents there, he would ask me about it. At that moment, I always kept my head down with tears in my eyes and didn’t say a word, not wanting to talk about this topic.

I remembered that one time when I returned home after school, I knocked at the door for a long time, but no one answered. Standing outside, I, for the first time, felt as if I had had no home to return to. Later, a neighboring aunt saw me standing outside alone, and she thereupon took me to her home. No sooner had I entered than I saw her son telling to his family all kinds of funny things that he had encountered at school. Seeing their whole family was joyous, I was extremely envious of them and thought to myself: If father had not had an affair, mother would not have left us. Then every day after I come home from school, I could have also, like other children, been capable of enjoying delicious food prepared by my mother, hearing her nagging, acting like a spoiled child in her arms, and enjoying the warmth of family. But now, they were just fantasies! I hated my father for what he had done, because it was he who personally destroyed our family, making me lose the warmth of family since childhood.

My parents failed to get back together.

As I gradually grew up, I became more sensible. When my sister and I saw that when mother occasionally called home, father began to ask us about her situation, which gave us an impression that his attitude toward mom seemed to have changed somewhat, we started to persuade mother to come back. At last, she agreed and stepped onto the way back home. At that time, both my sister and I thought that maybe our family could become complete. However, the fact was not like what we imagined. In the following days, father still often indulged in debauchery outside, and, just as he always did before, shouted abuse at and beat mother, and threw things. “Let’s get divorced.” became their oft-spoken words, and they frequently asked me and my sister: “If we get divorced, whom will you choose to live with?” I was extremely unwilling to make a choice, and every time they asked like this, my sister and I could do nothing but only express our unwillingness by crying.

In order to change all of this, I wiped tears from my face, and decided to live in a different way—to make myself a real delight in our family. So I made myself optimistic and positive, and tried to infect my family with my laughter, expecting that, through my efforts, the conflicts between my parents could be resolved one day. However, things were not like what I imagined. Although I was able to often crack them up, their smiles, like fireworks, were just brilliant for a short while. When I was eighteen, my parents still got divorced. Mother took me and my sister and left the home, which made her broken-hearted, and then rented a small house outside.

Not long after, I went back home to fetch something, only to find that my key could not go in the lock. After a while I learned from a neighbor that as soon as we moved out, father changed the lock. Also I was told that father had brought home the woman with whom he had an affair, as well as her son, and that some time ago, they even went out to travel together, and father also bought many things for them. On hearing this, I felt a fit of sadness in my heart that was hard to describe, and thought to myself: Why is it that others’ families are joyous and full of laughter, while mine is always cold and full of quarrels? When will I be able to have a warm home?

God’s love warmed my cold heart.

Just when I was in distress and despair, one of my mother’s classmates preached the gospel of God to us.

I saw God’s words say: “The Almighty has mercy on these people who suffer deeply. At the same time, He is fed up with these people who have no consciousness, because He has to wait too long for the answer from humans. He desires to seek, seek your heart and your spirit. He wants to bring you food and water and to awaken you, so you are no longer thirsty, no longer hungry. When you are weary and when you begin to feel the desolation of this world, do not be perplexed, do not cry. Almighty God, the Watcher, will embrace your arrival any time. He is watching by your side, waiting for you to turn back. He is waiting for the day your memory suddenly recovers: becoming conscious of the fact that you came from God, somehow and somewhere once lost, falling unconscious on the roadside, and then, unknowingly having a father. You further realize that the Almighty has been watching there, awaiting your return all along.”

These eager calls of God truly warmed my heart. From an early age, I neither had a happy childhood nor enjoyed the warmth and care of family; I leaded a particularly miserable and hopeless life without direction. God’s words, like a beam of light in darkness, lighted up my way ahead and my wandering heart finally found a place where it belonged to. Then I knelt to pray, spoke the words within my heart to God, and committed my future life to God’s hands, letting God lead me through every day.

I understood the root cause of my family being broken up.

One time at a gathering, one sister shared with us a passage of God’s words : “One after another, all these trends carry an evil influence that continually degenerates man, causing them to continually lose conscience, humanity and reason, and that lowers their morals and their quality of character more and more, to the extent that we can even say the majority of people now have no integrity, no humanity, neither do they have any conscience, much less any reason. So what are these trends? You cannot see these trends with the naked eye. When the wind of a trend blows through, perhaps only a small number of people will become the trendsetters. They start off doing this kind of thing, accepting this kind of idea or this kind of perspective. The majority of people, however, in the midst of their unawareness, will still be continually infected, assimilated and attracted by this kind of trend, until they all unknowingly and involuntarily accept it, and are all submerged in and controlled by it. For man who is not of sound body and mind, who never knows what is truth, who cannot tell the difference between positive and negative things, these kinds of trends one after another make them all willingly accept these trends, the life view and values that come from Satan. They accept what Satan tells them on how to approach life and the way to live that Satan ‘bestows’ on them. They have not the strength, neither do they have the ability, much less the awareness to resist.”

After she finished reading God’s words, brothers and sisters discussed their understanding and knowledge of God’s words. Through their fellowship, I understood that Satan creates all kinds of evil trends, and uses those prevailing fallacies in society to deceive and corrupt mankind, such as “Seize the day for pleasure, for life is short,” “Enjoy yourself today,” “A spouse at home and a lover outside,” etc. Because we humans have no truth, we simply do not know how to distinguish between righteousness and wickedness, between positive things and negative things, much less have the awareness to resist the evil trends brought about by Satan. We unwittingly accept these viewpoints and begin to live according to them, becoming more and more degenerate and evil.

Now, I thought of my father. He originally was responsible to our family and cared for us. However, after he went to other parts of the country for work and saw people around him all followed the evil trends, he gradually began to like to indulge in debauchery in the dance hall and chat online, thinking that only this kind of life was full of color and flavor. Later, he even had an affair. He cared only for enjoying himself, showed disregard for mother’s feelings, and also no concern for me and my sister. What he did brought the whole family nothing but much pain, and even caused our family to be broken up in the end. Now, from God’s words, I understood that the root cause of our family breaking apart was the evil trends created by Satan. Actually, father was also a victim of these evil trends. He didn’t believe in God and had no truth, so how could he be able to resist the attack of the evil trends? Though his actions were detestable, what was even more detestable was that Satan uses evil trends to constantly entice and corrupt people, which led to so many families being torn apart.

God gave me a warm home.

Since my family believed in God, brothers and sisters often came to our home to teach us to sing hymns and dance to praise God, and most importantly, regardless of the wind or rain, they would come to gather with us. Later I began to perform my duty. In the church, my brothers and sisters and I all seek to put God’s words into practice, and each of us opens our heart during our interaction with each other, leading a happy life. Besides, whatever difficulties or troubles I faced, they would help and sustain me through fellowshiping God’s words with me, so that I could find the way of practice, and no longer live in negativity and weakness. In our church life, brothers and sisters shared their gains from experiencing God’s work, through which we knew God more practically, and had a better understanding of God’s will. I felt such church life was abundant, and I could gain a lot from every meeting.

Besides, in the church, my brothers and sisters cared for and loved me more than my family did, which made me feel all warm inside. When it got cold, they gave their new quilts to me, while they themselves used the old ones. When I returned home late, the meals they had prepared for me were always kept cooking in the pot. When I encountered problems that I couldn’t resolve, they always tried their best to help me. When I was going to another place for work, they, with tears in their eyes, exhorted me to rely on God and pursue the truth hard. Their warm eyes and kind words are unforgettable for me even today. I knew deeply that their love for me all came from God’s love, and it was God’s love that made us meet in the house of God and bound us together, enabling me to have a warm family.

Later, I saw God’s words say: “What you eat and wear is different to them; you enjoy the words of God, and lead a life of meaning—and what do they enjoy? They enjoy only the legacy of their ancestors and the ‘national spirit.’ They have not the slightest trace of humanity! Your clothes, words, and actions are all different from theirs. Ultimately, you will completely leave the filth, no longer be ensnared in the temptation of Satan, and gain God’s daily provision. You should always be cautious. Though you live in a filthy place you are untainted with filth and can live alongside God, receiving His great protection. You have been chosen among all on this yellow land. Aren’t you the most blessed people?” Thank God for allowing me to have the good fortune to follow Him and return to His side. From His words, I have learned to discern the despicable methods of Satan afflicting people, which made me keep away from the evil trends of society and the temptations of Satan, so that I was able not to be deceived by the evil trends. I thought of many of my classmates who have good living conditions, and whose parents always prepared everything for them. They were especially pampered and vain, and even began at an early age to date or stay in a hotel room with boys. They were also seductively dressed and heavily made up, and went to KTV, games arcade, and so on, leading a debauched life.

Now look back on myself. Though I had an unhappy family and it caused me to suffer a lot, I gradually learned to be independent these years and was able to take care of myself, and learned to bravely face difficulties in my life. Moreover, I really tasted Satan’s affliction on mankind in such a family background. And I also experienced that I’m not lonely because God is always by my side, He protects me, and He watches me grow up. And He brought me to His family where I have enjoyed the true warmth of family. Thank God for giving me this best gift—a warm home—when I was eighteen. My hopes of many years were finally realized.

[rpchive]

112th Encounter-- Two of a Kind

temporary detour time!

Azreldeh guides the group back onto the road between districts. Halfway between, a cart is stopped in the road. Sitting on the edge, upright, like a person would, is a large, black cat, a singular green eye watching the group approach, the other scarred shut. Around his neck is a large bow made from intertwining red and white ropes, a large, golden bell in the center. Of note, the cat seems to have a tail that splits into a Y-shape, nearly becoming two separate tails. Blinking slowly, he addresses Azreldeh first, his voice as smooth and soft as his inviting fur seems to be.

"So you've come to me again? It's been a long time; I thought you'd found somebody else to play with. I've been escorting a couple of your friends; I apologise for the inconvenience, miss Azreldeh. I'm assuming you've all come to get them back?"

Azreldeh: Yes, Sake; we have. I'm...sorry we haven't talked in so long...

Sake: Think nothing of it. Now then, would you kindly create a deck of cards for us? I've no time for a proper trial with Sír being so...quick to the draw.

A little reluctant, Azreldeh hands Sake some cards. Daedalus: Wait, really? Are we literally gambling for our friends' lives now? Sake: You could say that. Which of you will be doing this? Fawkes: I suppose it's time for me to get off the sidelines. What's the game? Sake: We both draw a single card. We can choose to keep the card, shuffle it back, draw a new one, or blindly replace the card the other person drew. The higer value wins. Fawkes: I believe someone other than the two of us should shuffle the deck then, to prevent any doubt of card dealing. Does this sound fair? Sake: Perfectly reasonable. Then one of your friends should do it.

Paprika takes the deck from Sake's cart, shuffles the cards, then returns it a way away from Sake.

Sake: You draw first. Fawkes: One last question before I draw. Are aces highest or lowest? Sake: Second highest. The jokers will be higher. Fawkes: I had a feeling that'd be the case, somehow.

Fawkes' visor completely fills with different patterns of moving light. He reaches out and draws his card from the deck, then quickly holds it up in front of his face. Fawkes draws his card, the ace of spades, and Sake draws his own as well. Patiently, he looks at Fawkes.

it’s funny, Daedalus gets this card in a much later log for a “similar” situation

"Your verdict?" Fawkes: I assume I can only take one action, yes? Sake: Correct. Fawkes: Then I'll keep. Sake: How confident. Very well, let's flip our cards, then.

Sake reveals his card, the ace of diamonds. Fawkes turns his hand around to reveal his card as well. "Interesting. A tie. I don't think a condition was stated for that." Sake: Seeing as how we both seem to be in a bit of a hurry, I'll call it a win. You and your friends are free to go.

Sake produces two more dolls, Silky and Firefly, who return to their proper forms as he places them upon the ground. Standing up, Sake walks around to the other side of his cart, and rides away. Fawkes drops his card and quickly hurries over to the pair, putting a hand on their shoulders to steady them just in case they need it. "Phew, talk about luck! I forgot to ask how many jokers were in the deck so my probabilities were completely skewed. Are you two okay?" Firefly: I...think so? Where even are we? What's happening? Fawkes: We're back in the mirror world right now. It turns out that Azreldeh is actually royalty here, but when she refused to return with the person who showed up at our door, they turned most of us into dolls and then brought us here as leverage. Now it's a matter of challenging the people in charge here to get everyone back before they stay that way forever. Silky: S-so what kind of time limit do we have here? Fawkes: I'm not sure if there's a strict one. The only condition I know of is that if we fail the challenge, they can do...something to them before they return them to us. Azreldeh: Right now, we're trying to intercept one of the council members we lost to, or else they'll wind up handing Collin over to his counterpart.

Firefly: Wh-what?! We need to go now then! Daedalus: Well if we're done playing catch-up, then let's get the hell over there. Carrying on along the road, the group finally reunites with Sír on the border of the two districts. Standing at the edge of the border of the 8th district are three of FaWKES' guard captains; one in red armor, one in blue, and the final guard being Collin's reflection. Retrieving Collin's doll from his current resting place, Sír dusts him off once or twice before returning him to his proper form in the middle of the two groups. Collin staggers slightly as he puts one hand to the side of his head and tries to regain his balance. He blinks a few times as he looks around, trying to get his bearings again. "W-Wait, where...? What... What just happened?" The captain in red speaks out, Demo's voice muffled by her helmet. "You've been brought to the edge of our territory. We aren't technically allowed to fight you until you're on this side of the wall, but we're still allowed to do whatever it takes to get you here. Not like we want to hurt you given who you are; I'd say it's pretty convenient that you brought everyone we needed to one place." Looking in her direction and seeing his counterpart so close, he instinctively takes a step back toward Jay and the others. "W-What? How did we-  ... Look, I don't get how the hell this happened, but there is no way I'm coming with any of you." SDemo: You don't have to come willingly. You don't even need to move. Collin doesn't need anything other than himself to take you in. Collin slowly shifts into a more defensive position as he starts glancing between the trio. "Whatever that's supposed to mean. I know what it means if I go with you, and that is not happening." Shaking her head, Demo's shadow glances over to the other guards. "Looks like he's not gonna walk; who wants to play fetch first?" Collin's counterpart huffs in annoyance and then reaches forward with one hand. His hand seems to push through reality itself like a paper wall as it reaches into a dark void. His hand suddenly bursts out from mid-air right in front of Collin and grabs him by the collar and then pulls him back through. The hole in space closes back into normalcy as Collin appears in his counterpart's grip right in front of him. Mirror Collin grabs him by the neck with both hands in one swift motion and a blast of dark energy wrack's Collin's body as he cries out in pain before going limp. Throwing his body over his shoulder, the counterpart looks over to the others next to him.

M!Collin: Look at that, I didn't even have to step over the border to get him. alienrabitt: L-let him go!! Demo: Seriously? What, do you think they're gonna be like "oh yeah, okay!" and just set him down and walk off? Fuck's sake, Jay.

Summoning forth her candy cane, Demo shoulders her weapon as she stares at her counterpart. "Look, I know what'll happen if we get too close and personal, so I'm not about to try and throttle you, but this is gonna get really fucking messy if I start swinging."

SDemo: Don't even bother. We know you idiots will chase him to the ends of time and space itself so long as that Jay's with you. Why buy milk when you can get the cow for free? Anyway, you know where to find us.

Turning around, Demo's shadow takes her leave. Daedalus' counterpart glances in her direction as she leaves, then looks back at the others to give a half-hearted theatrical bow before following suit. "Looking forward to seeing you. Don't keep us waiting too long, now..."

Collin's shadow shifts Collin around slightly as he starts to turn back as well. He stops for a moment to look over his shoulder at the others. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time. Try not to disappoint me."

With that, he turns and follows the other two away. Demo: Ugh...we don't have the time to be storming some stupid castle...c'mon, let's get your boyfriend back...

The group carries on to the 8th district, Jay continuing to bring up the rear. Daedalus: This is just a constant chase, isn't it? Do you think they'll have multiple castles too? Azreldeh: Nah, they've only ever had one. Daedalus: ... They actually have a castle? Azreldeh: They do; but FaWKES can't leave it. Originally, neither could Collin's reflection...before all that weird god stuff happened, anyway... Daedalus: And uh... what exactly happened after that? Azreldeh: He woke up, climbed out of the floor, and made FaWKES regret putting him down there. FaWKES put him back in his place eventually, though, but nobody knows what he did. After all, it's pretty obvious that this Collin isn't exactly a friendly guy. Daedalus: You're telling me. He's making the old me look like a little ball of sunshine... Azreldeh: He doesn't exactly look like a pushover either...what're you guys gonna do? Daedalus: Best case scenario? Collin wakes up and surprise attacks him before he has a chance to react, and then we do cleanup. Pretty much every other scenario, though... Hell if I know? If he's still reliant on his magic bullshit, then he shouldn't be too physically tough. We've just gotta get close and take him out before he can do anything too crazy, right? Azreldeh: Easier said than done...dude sounds like a lunatic. Daedalus: What, you don't wanna flirt with that one too? Azreldeh: Look, that's not the way I want to get impaled, okay? Daedalus visibly shudders. "Fucking hell, why do I still try to mess with you when it always ends like this? You're almost as bad as that hellish swimsuit model." Azreldeh: Hahahaha! Don't ask questions you're not ready to hear the answers to, Sunny Dee. Daedalus: I- You- If you-

His speech devolves into a frustrated groan as he starts walking faster, taking the lead from the rest of the group.

LOL, idk what you expected

Giggling, Azreldeh probably looks the happiest she's been since all of this started as she carries on with the group.

The group approaches FaWKES' castle; though nobody is waiting for them outside. Despite there being no crowd, the atmosphere remains anything but inviting.

alienrabitt: ...I still remember the layout of this place...I doubt FaWKES would be anywhere else... Daedalus: Congrats, you're the new tour guide then. Slipping through the group, Jay leads them through the castle. They manage to get up about three floors before Jay slows to a reluctant stop.

Demo: ...Seriously? Save the emotional breakdown for, I dunno, maybe a few hours later, will you? They're right down the hall...

alienrabitt: ...Demo, I don't know if I can do this...

Demo: It's gonna be just like fighting every other bad guy...

alienrabitt: ...I saw your reflections, but...I killed mine the first time around; if they're back, then...why weren't they with everyone else?

Demo: Well, we're not gonna find out standin' in the hallway; let's get moving!! Fawkes: Just stay with us, Jay. We'll keep you safe if things start to get... out of hand. Taking a deep breath, Jay grabs his scarf uncomfortably as he slowly heads up to the big double doors. Letting it out, he legs go and shoves the doors open to what had previously been his own reflection's throne room. At the back this time, however, is a massive mess of machinery and metal; an array of wires, cables, and pipes intertwine and spider around large slab of glass and black steel. The screen flickers to life, a simple, large purple circle in the center; a singular eye staring down at the people intruding into his chamber. Below the screen are the three guards and Collin, who is lying on the floor beneath FaWKES' screen. Standing a few feet away from the group is Jay's reflection; quiet, somber, and hesitant, only daring to look at their counterpart in the tense atmosphere.

Breaking the silence, FaWKES addresses his company. "So you've come at last. It's been a long, long time..." Daedalus: Sorry to keep you waiting, big guy. You're a bit taller than I imagined. FaWKES: Spare me the short talk. We all know what you're here for. Let's get this over with. Daedalus: Well, he's way more blunt than the real thing, at least... SDemo: So, who's next? Or should we kick this off already? I'm already sick of waiting on you people.

Daedalus: What, you really wanna throw down that badly? SDemo: Why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't all of us? Do you have any idea what this place even is? Daedalus: I mean... it's the mirror world, right? SDemo: There's more to it than that...all of this started when that dumpster fire of a devil decided his son was too soft. As a punishment, he sealed his son away from all the other dimensions, and surrounded him with the secrets of the world. See, everything has a shadow, whether they're organic or not; living or dead; intelligent or an object...and so everything that exists in the light exists differently in the darkness... Daedalus: So... you're like our opposites, then. I had figured that much already, y'know. SDemo: But we exist exclusively to keep one person captive and torture them for the rest of eternity! We'll never see the sun, and our entire lives are bound to your own! Someone who's meek and timid down here could wrap their car around a tree, murdering a perfectly innocent person here; someone up there could kill themselves when their reflection was perfectly fine! Someone's counterpart could die in a freak accident, and their reflection would just...vanish! We don't have a choice, we can't protect ourselves!! Daedalus: I... uh... Shit, that's...

Fawkes: Unfair or not, your situation doesn't make what you're trying to do here right! SDemo: What else are we supposed to do?! If we can't find the devil that did this, we'll never leave the mirror; and if something else gets to them first, we all die!! Daedalus: So what, you'd rather we just hand over our lives to you instead? SDemo: Something /has/ to be done. If we don't get out of this mirror, everyone will die. We might be constructs, but we're alive; and we're doing whatever the hell it takes to stay that way; even if it means equivalent exchange. I will gladly sacrifice a handful of people for an entire dimension's worth of lives; can you look me in the eye and say you'd do the same? Daedalus: I don't want to kill anyone! I've got enough blood on my hands, I don't need to add to it if I can avoid it! I'd rather strike at the source of the issue rather than just keep punching down! SDemo: And we do too! But the devil isn't here. They abandoned us. Left us to kill and be killed. We only have one way out, and it is literally through you people; so either hand yourselves over to the proper cause, or we're taking you by force!! Daedalus: That's not happening. Clair and the others are still dolls, and I'm sure as hell not planning on leaving them that way. SDemo: Then we're done talking. We don't even need all of you. Collin should've gotten started the instant we got on castle grounds. Take him; we'll hold the crowd.

Drawing her weapon, Demo's reflection races towards her counterpart, who frantically counters with her own Candy Cane. Jay's reflection remains in the back with FaWKES and the true Collin, staying as far away from the fight as possible. Collin's shadow wastes no time and merges with his counterpart, causing him to cry out once more as his body trembles and convulses. Daedalus charges forward at him but is quickly intercepted by his own shadow, who conjures forth a large pillar of ice to block his path. Fawkes makes a wide arc to get around the others and makes a break for Collin while the others begin fighting. Long, thin, wire-like cables with claws on the end shoot out from behind FaWKES' monitor; only four at the moment; two lashing out like arms, and two firing bright, blue lasers from the center as the claws spin. Fawkes deploys his hard light shield and manages to block the claws, but the lasers pass straight through the shield as if it weren't there at all. One laser grazes the side of his shield arm, forcing him to turn his attention to the laser claws to avoid taking more hits. Lashing out towards his counterpart, FaWKES converges his two lasers into one slightly larger laser. In the meantime, the Demos continue to clash and shove each other away, Demo desperately trying to keep her counterpart from making any ounce of physical contact. Jay's reflection continues to silently watch their counterpart, who is currently weighing their options as they assess the situation. Fawkes deploys his machine gun from his other arm and begins firing on the laser claws as he tries to dash to the side from their attack, aiming to damage the firing mechanisms. Daedalus' arms burst into flames as he begins slinging balls of fire in his counterpart's direction while his shadow attempts to close in with an icy spear, occasionally deflecting projectiles and refreezing his weapon as he tries to close the gap between them. Daedalus looks over at Jay and the others and yells out before dodging a spear thrust.

Daedalus: Any time you guys wanna jump in and try to salvage the situation would be great-! As the claws become damaged, the wires themselves split apart into twice the amount of the previous wires, rapidly reforming any size and function they could have lost. Where there had previously been only two lasers merged into one, there are now four into two; and four non-lasered claws now attempt to grapple Fawkes.

Still a little confused by everything, Silky draws her weapons and rushes into the fray, attempting to provide Fawkes backup, while Maya draws her guns and heads for Daedalus, opening fire in his reflection's direction.

Among the chaos, Jay manages to slip over to the side of the room, where his reflection follows suit, approaching as cautiously as a deer. Barely audible among the sounds of machinery and gunfire, he speaks gently to his counterpart: "...You should go home...there's somebody here you don't want to meet..."

alienrabitt: ...Who? What could possibly be worse than what's already happening?

SJay: ...Not everything on this side of the mirror is as equivalent as you think. Even if somebody's partially destroyed, if a part of them still exists...

so I wrote Jay and his reflection’s dialogue like those cutaway scenes you see in shows and movies where exposition happens during a Big Fight and stuff; even if it happens at the same time in the same place as the chaos, it’s “separate”

Fawkes retracts the machine gun and shifts his shield arm into some form of energy cannon instead, firing electrical pulses at the claws in an attempt to short them out while Silky backs him up.

Daedalus' shadow shifts tactics and rides a small pillar of ice up into the air and then hops off. He throws the spear at Maya in midair, causing it to burst into smaller shards of ice that rush toward her, then freezes the ground underneath him as he lands, allowing him to slide back further. As Jay slowly registers his reflection's implications, Silky grabs a handful of FaWKES' cords and begins to pull him, shifting his monitor forward as she does so. FaWKES, however, wastes no time in electrifying the lines she's grabbed, which is only intensified by the armor she's wearing, causing her grip to lock as she screams in pain, but keeping all of FaWKES' cables busy.

Crashing to the ground in a roll, Maya attempts to dodge out of the way of the ice, refusing to allow herself a glance towards Silky as she continues to fire upon Daedalus' reflection.

There is a low rumble coming from the righthand side of the room that cannot be heard over the commotion, but draws Jay's full attention as he feels it. In the instant that he turns away from his reflection, they waste no time in lunging for him, making sure to force him down upon his injured arm, which collapses under his weight, instantly rendering him helpless. His counterpart, however, makes no effort to merge, and instead takes the ends of Jay's scarf in both hands and pulls as tightly as possible.

Demo adds a swift kick at the end of one of her deflections, giving her just enough distance to make a break for it. As she attempts to make her way towards Jay, her reflection shifts the Candy Cane to a harpoon, and begins to take aim. Fawkes charges closer to FaWKES' monitor and dumps as much power as he can into his energy cannon. He unleashes a series of rapid electromagnetic bursts directly for him, attempting to short out his systems and force a malfunction or crash.

Daedalus' shadow raises a wall of ice between himself and Maya, then shoves the whole thing toward her with a kick. He then turns his attention to Daedalus himself, who has turned away from the fight to see Demo's counterpart preparing to throw. Daedalus slams his hands together in a loud clap and sends a column of roaring fire toward her shadow while his own counterpart charges toward him while his back is turned. Desperately shoving herself off the floor, Maya cries out "Daedalus; move!!" before reaching for the gun slung across her back. Though she has no time to line up a proper shot; though she has no time to properly dodge the wall of ice coming for her, Maya fires a singular round, but does not shoot to kill. A singular bullet passes through the ice wall, losing none of its momentum as it flies straight and true with the very same force it was fired with. It aims for Daedalus' counterpart, and seems to move when he does, leaving a long, blue streak in its wake.

and with the parallels, Maya shoots Daedalus’ reflection with the same gun she intended to shoot him with in Lobotomy had things gone sour

As Demo's reflection starts to make her throw, she seems to lose a bit of heart as she hears the crackle of the flames approaching her, and her aim falls quite a few feet short as her armor becomes engulfed in Daedalus' flames, causing her muffled cries to ring out.

FaWKES cannot move from his position, and takes the onslaught in full, causing his cables to lose power, allowing Silky to collapse and leaving Collin unguarded.

As Demo barrels towards the two Jays, Jay barely manages to choke out the word "Why?" around his own strangulation.

A section of the wall slides aside. Somebody is standing in the gap.

Choking around his tears, Jay's reflection shakes his head as he pulls so tightly the fabric rips slightly. "...I don't want to go to the surface...I don't want to fight...everything you do is for revenge...everything you do is for someone else's sake...everything you do is for Collin; but I...I don't want to live for anybody else...if you only exist for him...if I wind up becoming a part of you...we'll never be free...we'll never be happy...this has to end...your struggle; your lies; it all has to end here...so stop talking to me, and just...just let me help you! Just let go already...! Let us both go..."

From the wall, a familiar voice speaks over him... Zenith: ...It doesn't work like that! Let him go!! Daedalus' shadow takes Maya's shot in the arm and screams in pain as he's knocked to the ground by the impact. Daedalus and Fawkes both turn to the source of the shouting. The reappearance of Zenith stuns Daedalus for a moment, but Fawkes immediately looks back down to the Jays and rushes toward them to try and break the shadow's stranglehold. Collectively, Zenith and Demo manage to pull Jay's reflection away from Jay, who rolls over and gasps for air.

Holstering her rifle, Maya abandons her persuit of Daedalus' reflection and instead tags out with Firefly, who had been staying back with Paprika to keep her safe in the commotion.

With a clear shot to Collin, Firefly rushes forth, aiming exclusively to tear the pair apart. Seeing that Jay has been taken care of, Fawkes doubles back to check on Silky while Daedalus tries to snap himself out of his own bewilderment.

Firefly manages to reach Collin and pry the two halves apart once more, although his counterpart recovers with almost unnatural speed. He lets out a strange, inhuman sound of frustration as an enormous purple spike forms over the entirety of his right arm. He lunges forward and swings to plunge the spike right through Firefly's chest, then snaps backwards and flies through the air before he can make contact as a massive blast of lightning booms forth from Collin's hands. Collin's shadow slams into the wall on the opposite side of the room and topples down to the floor face down. Firefly: I'm gonna try something a little hasty; prepare to be disoriented!

A pulse of green light shoots out from beneath Firefly; small, green circles appearing beneath anyone familiar and safe, Zenith included. Within the instant the pulse touches the walls, the entire group is teleported back to the border of the two districts, bringing Firefly to her knees. "Are...are you okay? Is everyone...?" Daedalus quickly glances around himself and makes a headcount. "I... think we all made it, by some fuckin' miracle. Anyone hurt?" Paprika: Silky looks like she's in some pretty bad shape, but Jay looks like he'll recover...

Demo: ...You...why are you...how are you...?

Zenith: Adzeth had no soul. I have no body. I'm also not tied up with all those other ghosts, so...I'm just me. Daedalus: That's... Fuck, why isn't Clair here? This is insane. So you're really just... you? Do you remember what happened when...? Zenith: I, uhh...sorta? It's weird; I know...flashes of things? I remember, well...trying to stop my...and then I remember Adzeth waking up in Lobotomy...but I saw...before that, and...

Paprika: You...you saw them make a Sephirah? I'm so sorry...

Zenith: It's such a blur it doesn't even really bother me...I just know that, in comparison to Adzeth, I'm...really vulnerable, and not very strong. What about you guys? You were getting kicked around pretty hard in there... Daedalus: We'll live, hopefully. I think Collin and Silky took the worst of it back there.

Collin: I've... lived through worse. I'm just a little sore and... really disoriented more than anything. What about Silky, is she...? Paprika: She's...a little burnt; hurt for sure, but not dead. She probably shouldn't be moving any time soon... Daedalus: That's sort of a problem given our current situation, isn't it? Paprika: Azreldeh can take her back to the IT, but then she'll be alone...I could stay with her, but if someone tried to hurt us...

alienrabitt: ...I'll go back. Don't worry about it... Collin: W-Wait, is that safe? Just you and Silky on the IT in a place like this? alienrabitt: ...I mean, it has to be, right? You've still got trials to do; better to just lose one person than a whole bunch again...

Azreldeh: You sure about this?

alienrabitt: ...It needs to happen. Somebody's gotta do it... Collin: Jay... Are you okay? I don't even really know what's happening, but I feel like I've missed something big. Demo: ...Some...really obnoxious demon had your doll, and Jay lost the trial he was supposed to get you back from. Fawkes got out of it fine, but she took you to the border and basically handed you over to your shadow as your punishment. Collin: My... doll? I'm not really sure what that means, but... I guess that explains why I suddenly wound up there. But whatever, I'm just glad everyone got out of that place okay; I don't care if you lost the... trial or whatever. I'm just glad you came back to get me the hell out of there. alienrabitt: ...Why wouldn't I? I'm always gonna be there for you. It's kinda what I do, right?

Fawkes: In that case, why don't you let me go with Silky back to the IT? It's the least I can do for her after she helped me. Azreldeh: ...Makes sense. Alright, then I'll take you and Paprika back if there's no objections. Obviously I'm gonna...have to come back here, but yeah. Fawkes walks over to Silky and carefully picks her up while his servos audibly strain slightly. "I'm ready when you are. Get everyone back in one piece, okay?" Nodding, Azreldeh pulls Fawkes, Paprika, and Silky away into the shadows, and returns mere moments later on her own. "...Right, so there's...only two people left, right? No big deal..." Daedalus: I... think three, actually. We've had to deal with four people so far, right? Demo: Yeah. Four down, three to go. So, who's the closest?

Azreldeh: From here? We'd have better luck backtracking to my dad's castle... Collin: Your... dad? Azreldeh: Yeah, the king of district 7. Collin: That's... a little crazy to think about honestly. Why did you never say anything about this, anyway? Azreldeh: About what, my dad, or the council? Collin: About you! I mean, did you think that this whole royalty thing wouldn't ever come up after you came with us? Azreldeh: ...What does it matter? I mean...it definitely matters now; but I just didn't wanna seem like that big of a deal, y'know? I mean...it's pretty rare for a shadow to be able to leave the mirror and stay out without having to merge with their counterpart; but it's even rarer to not even have a counterpart. That's what makes us demons such a big damn deal; there's nothing like us anywhere else. Collin: I... guess I understand what you mean, but- Daedalus: A princess can't exactly play hooky without consequences, can they? Azreldeh: I mean, can anyone really? Collin: Maybe not, but... Listen, Azreldeh. You don't have to keep secrets, okay? We're not gonna treat you weirdly or anything just because you're a princess or whatever. Azreldeh: Maybe I don't, but...I don't know, I just didn't want you guys getting in danger. Guess I seriously messed that up... Daedalus: I mean, technically this was that Merri chick's fault, but a heads up would've been appreciated. Azreldeh: Regardless...I'm sorry you guys had to go through all this... Collin: Well... You help us get everyone back safely and we'll call it even, alright? Azreldeh: I don't think that's how it works, but okay... Collin: Look, let's just worry about getting everyone else back for now; the blame game can wait for later. So... everyone got turned into dolls, and we have to do trials to get them back? At least, that's what I'm understanding... Azreldeh: Yeah; win or lose, they have to give us all the dolls they have back, but if we lose, they're allowed to punish somebody before they give them back. Collin: That sounds... ominous. And your dad is our next stop? Azreldeh: I hope not. He's not even on the council, they just do what he asks. I don't even wanna think about what my dad would do if he found out about all this... Collin: Well, let's uh, hope we don't run into him then. Azreldeh: Anyway, the two guys left are...uhh...Lula and Hox. ...But there should be seven...so who's...? Who am I forgetting...?

Azreldeh gets lost in thought as she stares at the ground reflectively.

I think the next one should be the remaining trials o: