#Futile Attempts At Surviving Tomorrow

[prime-adeptus]

The Winds of Tomorrow [2/3]

In which you find that Hanzo, the man who’d become a stranger over the years, becomes a loved one once again.

✧ PAIRING: Hanzo Shimada x GN!Reader

✦ CONTENT: childhood friends to lovers, class differences, blood and violence, drifting apart, reunions, hopeful ending. AU - Canon divergent. | chapter specific: angst, some progression | not edited

✧ NOTES: this took wayyyy longer than I'd like.. a lot has happened and many days have been wasted, but we WILL get mc the happy ending they deserve!!!!! we're dealing with an angst bomb first though

Back to Chapter 1 | AO3 | Masterlist | @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

You’d lost count of how many times you cleaned blood off of your blade. 

Fighting and thievery became your means of survival. Your home was abandoned and taken over by the Hashimoto, so returning wasn’t an option. Though you met countless people and helped just as many, when night fell, all you could think of was how you’d never felt more alone. You roamed about the world, boarded ships to different places until you landed somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean, if the map you’d seen was anything to go by.

You bore a mask and a hood that concealed all but your watchful gaze. You cleaned grime, to put it eloquently, off of the streets and went back in the shadows where you were undisturbed. It hadn’t been your intention to turn into some sort of a vigilante or anti-hero. You didn’t think you were as proficient in combat as the Shimada brothers had been, but witnessing misdeeds with your own eyes had awakened your instinct to protect. 

Mothers and children. Those people were constantly on the forefront of your mind. You knew you didn’t have to help them, but they seemed to have become your weakness. A child needs their mother. A child needs their mother’s love to thrive, much like you did, and as you thought so, guilt seeped into your veins as you recalled how you’d turned tail and left. You managed to get in contact with them somehow, sending them messages or calling whenever you got your hands on a phone.

You missed home. You missed seeing a house full of people and hearing laughter as family members spent time together. But you had been wandering for so long; your home was no longer your home, and you longed to be where you couldn’t. 

Word of your deeds had somehow managed to reach Overwatch all the way in Zürich—a byproduct of them making headlines and its way to the underground. They had sent three people to recruit—or rather, retrieve—you: a peppy British young lady, a cyborg, and a woman you recognised as Dr. Ziegler. It had been a rainy evening when you came face-to-face with them in your hideout. Your blade shook in your hand as panic took over and you demanded them for answers. What did they want? How did they know your name?

When Dr. Ziegler’s attempts to calm you down proved futile, the cyborg took her place. There was something strikingly familiar about him, from the way he spoke to the way he moved. And when you finally realised just who it was, you broke into tears and ran into his arms, at last letting yourself cry as much as you could. He was no longer the mischievous boy you knew in your childhood. This was a different Genji, broken down and more mechanical than human.

Hesitantly, you agreed to leave Birmingham and go with them. You remembered how your stomach lurched as the ship took off into the sky, the steady humming of its machinery in-tune with your feelings. When you looked at Genji, you couldn’t help but wonder about his older brother, the boy you were so fond of as a kid. Your heart clenched when Hanzo crossed your mind. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wasn’t the last.

You no longer knew what feelings you harboured for him. Was it anger for him putting honour over family, or was it sadness that you could no longer see him the same way? Even now, do you still feel those things, and will this feeling of hollowness ever fade away?

A couple years have passed, and you still don’t have the answer.

You tear your gaze away from the snow-frosted plains outside the window. The winter does little to help soothe the sombre atmosphere, its monochromatic tones a stark contrast to the technicolour you’re used to. Your reflection ripples at the bottom of your glass and you see a face you don’t recognise staring back at you, eyes weary and mouth dry. 

It’s not as if your life is terrible. You’ve been cracking smiles and even laughter more often now that you’ve met the other agents. But you long to be back home, with Hanzo and Genji and Miss Asa’s baby daughter. You want back the time that you lost, You want your youth back. The fact that you’re getting older every single day never leaves your mind; it echoes within the confines of your skull, reminds you of the nostalgic void you’ve found yourself in.

You’ve fallen into an abyss you can’t get yourself out of, and the light is disappearing the more you fall.

A scoff leaves you. You’re too old to be sulking over things like a petulant child. You aren’t a kid anymore. And here you are, mulling over things you can’t get back because it’s only occurred to you just how lonely you feel.

You’re elated that Genji is alright—as alright as he can be—but just like any other person, you’re selfish, so his presence isn’t enough. He seems wiser beyond his years, having already left it all behind in the past and only looking forward to the future. He’s mellowed out compared to the cheeky boy you used to know. But have you changed at all? 

You frown. You supposed you do know what you feel for Hanzo. As angry as you were with him, you can’t decline that you miss him. What is he doing now? Is he a lone wanderer like you? Is he grieving himself? Years of radio silence leads you to the worst assumptions. Sometimes you wonder if he’s dead. Genji seems to know but refuses to give you an answer, dodging the unspoken question whenever he could.

You feel a tear slide down your cheek and a shaky breath leaves your lips. You don’t even know what you’ll do if you end up seeing him again. Emotions are already hard to describe to begin with, and you don’t think there are enough words to even convey everything you’ve felt. Hastily, you wipe away your tears and straighten up. No use in contemplating possibilities. You have a mission to complete.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #20 - Duel

Character: Vairg Age: 18 Location: The Golmore Jungle, 2, Seventh Astral Era Warnings: Violence, Murder

The slightest sound causes him to stir in his sleep. The gloom of Golmore was no stranger to him, often filled with the cacophony of nature through the twilight hours, but not this night. Birds and bugs fell silent.

As they often did at the approach of a predator.

Immediately Vairg reaches for his sword, sitting upright, and the quiet footfalls that had approached him break into a run at their blown cover. Not away from him; Vairg had already risen to his feet at the challenge, but towards.

"Coward." Vairg snarls at his twin. They shared the same face, and in more recent cycles, Vairg had caught up to if not surpassed Lijon in height. The two meet blades, but the element of surprise is long since gone.

"Weakling!" Lijon snaps back. "Only the strongest, the smartest, only we are fit to survive! I won't suffer you to sully the blood of our people!" More metal upon metal; No sooner had Vairg opted to arm himself with a blade some cycles ago, Lijon had followed suit to better him. As it stood, the two were evenly matched.

The resulting din from their clash was enough to draw attention from the rest - Keeping out of the way to the trees. As was their way. The last who tried to intervene was put to the sword, and no one was keen to follow him.

It become quickly apparent to Vairg, to Lijon, and any onlookers, that this duel would not be one that ended without the loss of a life.

"So you plan to cull me before the couplings tomorrow. Prove yourself the better brother?" Vairg no longer retorted with silence as he had in his youth. A huff of amusement is given. "You'll have to try better than that. You couldn't even kill me in my sleep."

The remark is enough for Lijon to swing at him more forcefully, then; each retort and scathing word interjected with sharp swordplay that was nothing resembling a spar.

"We can't suffer weakness, Vairg. What when the ironmen come again? Risk losing our people? Our women? Be wiped from the face of the realm?" Their blades connect again, and each are forced a few steps back to regain their footing. "I won't suffer you to breed weakness into our people. You have always been the lesser twin."

"You've not beaten me yet." Vairg snaps back. "I'm still alive. Maybe you're the weak one. Maybe you're just not strong enough to kill me." His words were goading, purposeful. And yet, he doesn't approach. Instead, he holds his blade defensively, Lijon closing the gap in a heartbeat.

It happened so quickly, that no one could have expected the outcome. Lijon was strong, there was no doubting that. He spent every sun sparring with his peers, reading their every move and besting them; He considered himself superior, but not so much that he'd thought them weak enough to put to the sword.

So when Lijon swung his blade in a violent, downward strike, he'd expected Vairg to block with his own. But he doesn't.

The sword sinks into Vairg's arm, brought upright to shield his face from the worst of it and prevent a killing blow. The sharp metal bit a line into his brow, his cheek; staring at the blade now an ilm from his eye. But not even so much as a yelp of pain; though he'd grit his teeth from it.

So close to him, confusion washes over Lijon's face. He was sure he'd block. Certain, in fact. So when he doesn't, there's a brief moment where disbelief knits his brow, until realisation hits and his eyes widen in horror. "---Vairg, I----!"

Vairg's blade sinks straight into Lijon's gut. There's not an onze of mercy. A shred of remorse. No anger, just some wash of... Pride. Victory. But he doesn't gloat in it. A small twitch of his lip sees him tear the blade out sideways, and throw his brother into the dirt, writhing as blood spurted from his side as he made some futile attempt to contain his organs.

"Va---Gh--- I...." Shock had taken Lijon before he could utter his dying words, staring up to his twin. He'd managed what he'd always failed to; killing him. "I... D-... D-didn..."

Vairg watches, as the writhing stops. As the gush of blood slows. As the light leaves the eyes of his brother. He stares in some muted expression that would have looked like indifference, though perhaps something more if anyone knew him; Though no one did.

Raising his gaze to the trees where he'd been watched, he casts his mismatched gaze outwards, lips curled with a telltale smirk.

"Anyone else?"

There's no response.

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby- Chapter 18 - The Russians

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I grabbed Tommy's sleeve, whispered, "Tell Arthur no one blames him. I actually thought his speech was okay."

Tommy seemed to smile, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. I sat at the head, watching my husband and a guest lock eyes, the man looking away before turning towards me.

"Serve the dinner," I said, signaling the maid. I arranged the seating myself; I didn't know that man, definitely not within the guest range. Better not be Churchill; if he ruins my wedding night, there will be trouble.

"Good evening, Polly."

"Good evening, you look dazzling, dear." Polly handed me a drink; we chatted by the bar. "You were late because... hmm? Oh, you're still so easily embarrassed."

I touched my warm cheeks, murmuring, "Tommy ruined my favorite dress."

I could tell Polly hesitated, feeling I had the right to know what would happen tonight but not wanting to spoil my wedding night.

Seems like today is truly unforgettable.

"Is something going to happen tonight?" I asked. "Tommy has been anxious all day."

"You're too sharp, Darby. It makes people feel inadequate." Polly shook her head, sadly smiling. "Russian royalists, you know."

I nodded, aware of the exiled Russian aristocrats wandering in Europe, seeking support for a futile attempt to reclaim their lost power.

"Is Tommy doing business with them?" What kind of business? Alcohol, horse racing, or heroin?

Polly nodded. "Starting tonight."

Heavens! After all this time in exile, couldn't they wait one more night!

"Dani, Tommy didn't tell you to avoid worrying you. He prefers facing things alone." Seeing my strange expression, Polly explained.

"Not anymore, Polly. I'm Shelby, Diana Shelby."

Polly looked at me with a mix of warmth, pride, and concern, like a mother watching her just-married daughter. "Thomas Shelby made quite a catch, dear."

"Ladies and gentlemen, time for the newlyweds' dance." The announcer's voice interrupted; I adjusted my dress.

"Go, Diana, you can at least enjoy this dance."

Tommy held my waist, almost making me lean into him. I loved being close to him, just like how Charlie loves sticking to me.

"Do you hide some little secrets with your wife, Mr. Shelby?"

Tommy quickly responded, explaining and confessing, "They came uninvited."

"Don't make too much noise, Tommy. This involves secrecy; don't let those drunken bags of wind notice. Do you need me to do anything?"

"Enjoy the dance and our wedding night, Mrs. Shelby." He kissed my lips. "I'm sorry this happened on your first day as Mrs. Shelby."

"It's not your fault, Tommy."

As the announcer allowed everyone to join the dance, Tommy was about to leave.

We exchanged a kiss. "Stay safe, and smoke less, Tommy."

"You too."

I watched his solitary figure with worry.

I wanted to advise him to stop because once we entered the game of power, there was no turning back. We'd become pawns, climbing the peaks of power to survive. But I didn't want to worry him, disturb his thoughts.

I'll be with him. Even if hell awaits, I'll jump with him.

This is why I chose Mei Carlton and Edward Collins as our children's godparents—to protect Charlie if anything happened to us. "It's over, right?"

I hugged Tommy from behind; he covered my hands with his.

"Yes."

I wanted to ask about Churchill and the king's stance, what kind of business they were getting into, and the possibility of us extricating ourselves from the political mess afterward. But what came out of my mouth was different.

"So, it's finally our wedding night, right?"

When he entered my body, I could see his face clearly. His blue eyes were filled with apologies and tenderness. I raised my hand, touching his face. He must be tired, planning and worrying. There were traces of white hair at his temples. He's only 31...

He's tired enough. Let's talk about tomorrow another day.

I leaned back, kissing him.

"You've worked hard, my husband."

I held Charlie, watching Tommy and them leave at the door.

"Say goodbye to Dad, Charlie." I waved Charlie's chubby little hand. "And Uncle Arthur, Uncle John, and Aunt Polly."

"No need to wait for me recently; get some rest early." Tommy kissed me, patting our son's head.

I didn't expect to end up being a housewife so similar to my mother.

Tommy was determined not to involve me in their illicit income, and he kept political matters from me. With Charlie being our only child and a target for many, I couldn't trust a nearly stranger to care for him.

I wanted to work alongside my husband, manage the business, negotiate with politicians. But for now, my role was to provide a stable rear, ensuring he had no worries.

Looking at the mountain of letters on the desk, remembering last night, Tommy rejected my request to join the company. He wanted me to run the Shelby Charity Foundation.

"Tommy, you know I want to help..."

"Building the Shelby Charity Foundation is a huge help, my dear."

"You can assign the legitimate business to Michael, or Finn, or ask Ada to come back..."

"Dani," he cupped my face, looking into my eyes, "if our son ever wonders about our work, let him despise me alone."

"You're a Baroness in the clear, the perfect mother for our child. Leave all the troubles to me. If I'm not around..."

I quickly covered his mouth. "Don't talk nonsense on such a joyous day."

"You go back to London or Yorkshire, live a clean life with Charles." Tommy removed my hand, gently kissing it.

"You won't... we're going to live a long life together, remember? You'll be fine, nothing will happen..."

He just looked at me.

We were both afraid of death because it was within reach now. It was real, so it was terrifying.

Desperately, I thought.

John has stirred up trouble with the Italians.

Tommy didn't tell me, so I pretended not to know. But, in reality, I have my own sources in both Birmingham and London, providing information about politics, social affairs, and "business."

"How was your day?" Tommy, unusually home early, lay on my lap, eyes closed, enjoying my massage.

"Not too bad. Charlie was well-behaved today." I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see. "Oh, I think we can make some changes to our courtyard. I want to plant a rose garden and set up a swing. The charity event had a good response; everyone I wrote to replied." Well, isn't that normal? Tommy rules Birmingham, and I'm the Baroness from London. A powerful alliance, making the Shelbys the most sought-after.

"A busy day, huh?" Tommy sat up. "To reward your hard work, my dear, close your eyes."

"Oh, come on! After all these years, you still come up with these odd surprises." I said it, but I obediently closed my eyes.

"Just because we've been married for ages doesn't mean we don't need surprises, Shelby. Okay, open your eyes."

Before me lay a Tanzanite necklace, a large uncut Tanzanite hanging beneath a diamond necklace.

"Where did you get this?" I'd never had such jewelry before. Usually, I carefully cut gemstones into beautiful patterns and set them in gold or silver grooves. All the diamonds on my most precious diamond necklace were cut from a large diamond.

"You can wear it to the charity dinner." Tommy embraced me from behind.

"Charity event? Tommy, this is too grand." I turned to him, smiling, then looked down at the gem on my neck. It looks like a miner's windfall... but it's really beautiful.

"This is damn Birmingham, Dani. Only those unfortunate folks care about taste. When meeting the king, I won't let you look like a nouveau riche."

"What should I give you in return, Tommy?" I pushed him onto the couch, then pinned him down, fingers circling his abdomen. I watched the movement of his Adam's apple with satisfaction.

He glanced at my chest, not with good intentions. "Anything will do."

The next day, Tommy pulled me out of bed.

"I'm tired..." I waved my hand with my eyes closed. "Don't bother me."

But he persistently woke me up. "Aren't you going to work?" I sat on the bed, looking at him gloomily with disheveled hair.

"I'm off today, accompanying you and Charlie."

"You don't have to..."

"I know you won't be a resentful wife, I know you won't blame me, you can handle Charlie alone..." Tommy held my face, "but I need to do this. I am your husband, Charlie's father, and this is what a husband and father should do, right?"

"..."

It made me uncomfortable. Tommy's love for me was always silent, seen in the details. Now it's like a last-minute request before death.

"Tommy," I stopped him, and he turned. "What's wrong?"

"I won't let you die. I swear, we can start over from scratch if necessary." I hope he lets go of this matter.

I'm serious. If Churchill or others dare to harm Tommy, with my own strength, I can save him. As long as he's alive, there's hope, and we can start over from scratch.

His gaze softened. "I believe you, Dani, I believe."

... He doesn't believe, he's just comforting me.

"The police from London came to the office and took Tommy away?"

"Tommy said it was the Russians." Although Tommy warned John not to call me, he still did.

"... Tommy will come back, don't worry."

It's just a threat. They'll release my husband; they still need him to work for them.

After hanging up with John, I called Churchill.

For Tommy and me, as long as there is no danger to life, doing business with anyone is no different. We don't care about each other's identity. But the king, and Churchill, are different. They staunchly oppose the Bolsheviks. Besides fearing their political system collapsing like Russia's, they don't want a government with different demands to exist. In the recent war, Russia and Britain stood together. If another war broke out, no one knew if today's Russia would stand opposite Britain.

But these things can't be known to the public. So they found Tommy, wanted him to act secretly.

Arms, or money. I lean more towards the former.

Just like what Tommy did before, rob arms, then sell them.

Even though I've always thought my sister-in-law Linda is a bit of a charlatan, she said one thing right, "Devil's work is done in the dark." Doing things in the dark means safety can't be guaranteed. You can kill in the dark, and someone might be waiting to kill you from behind.

"Madam, young master Charles is looking for you again." Jenny's appearance interrupted my thoughts.

I followed her to Charles's nursery, picked him up, and soothed him. Charles's pillows and blankets were all wrinkled by his fussiness. I handed my son to the maid, started tidying the bed, and unexpectedly found a piece of paper. I picked it up, read the words on it, and felt my blood freeze.

It was a card from the crematorium, with "Rest in peace, Charles Shelby" written on the back.

Tommy came back, rushing into Charles's bedroom.

I followed him, standing by his side.

"Are you looking for this?" I handed him the note I found this afternoon. "We are being watched, Tommy."

"They threatened my son, Tommy. To be honest, Tommy, if I could, I really want to kill them all. Damn Russians, monarchists, Russo-British War." I leaned on Charles's small bed, looking out of the window, softly speaking. "What a nonsense about restoring the monarchy, and they have to resort to threatening a child. Restore? Hmph..."

"Nothing will happen." Tommy hugged me.

They know each other, and I think I know where the gem on my neck came from.

"Your lady is beautiful, just like the gem on her neck."

"Thank you." I smiled confidently, accepting the Duchess's ambiguous compliment. I'm not the delicate rose protected so well by Tommy. She doesn't even know me but wants to provoke me.

Rest assured, as long as I'm alive, Thomas Shelby won't sleep with you. He only loves me.

Tommy tried to get me away, called Ada to take me, and I obediently went elsewhere to talk to others.

"You have to take off the necklace." Tommy suddenly said to me.

"Why?" I stared at him.

It's not that I'm unwilling, but this big gemstone disappearing from my neck will surely cause endless inquiries. I hate trouble.

But he insisted.

"Okay, if it makes you feel better." I lowered my head, letting him help me take off the necklace.

"I just want you safe, Dani. I need you." Tommy kept using sweet words to comfort me.

"I'm not angry, dear," I kissed his lips, "I know... I know, Mr. Shelby, all I ask for is

this." That we all live peacefully.

Unconsciously, people in the hall are almost gone.

Suddenly, a waiter shouted, "For Arthur!" Holding a gun, he aimed at Tommy. Arthur lunged, but the man still fired.

It can't be Tommy! No...

After the gunshot, I lay in Tommy's arms with one hand covering my bloody shoulder.

"Tommy, it hurts... Tommy... hurts..." I smelled the gunpowder in the air, along with the scent of blood, mixed with the perfume on my body, Tommy's tobacco, champagne, and floral scents.

"Tommy..." I felt my eyelids heavy...

You have to live well; this family needs you...

[the-prsc]

Day 11 

Previously on the PRSC... 

Keith has left the conglomerate because he’s jealous of Rick and Alex’s friendship 

Peter Gabriel has been refusing food as he grows more insane. This has lead to a lower immunity against weaker illnesses. The rest of the band are slowly crumbling 

Fripp has revealed his hidden anger and violence as he put Broof and Muir on some form of warning 

Death count: 2 

Still alone in o-hell-o... 

The Genesis situation shows no sign of healing. Peter hasn’t been eating since day 9 and he is gradually growing weaker and more ill. Tony has been caring for him as Mike and Steve attempt to keep the camp somewhat functional. They are one of only two of the five bands who haven’t made cross-band alliances (the other being Jon and Alan) and this is obviously leading to a failure to cooperate. The future looks dark for Genesis. 

Two fallen angels in the court... 

After Bruford and Muir’s failure to follow through on their orders in recent days, Fripp has demoted them to ordinary status and put them on a ‘warning’. They still do the same work that they have done all along (external work outside the court), only now cannot demand the same respect or authority as before. On a recent ‘visit’ to the conglomerate, Broof heard the news of Keith’s departure. In case anyone has forgotten, since Greg’s death Fripp has had Keith down as a dangerous threat, but not until now has he been completely alone and exposed. Muir now no longer goes on reconnaissance missions, with his prime focus being locating and... ‘removing’ Keith from the competition. 

Madness (not the band) in the Conglomerate? 

Early this morning, Geddy and Chris were gathering wood South of the Conglomerate and stopped by a riverbank for a quick rest and a chat before returning home. This has been a pleasant part of their routine that they have grown fond of since the Conglomerate’s initial forming. Chris was in the middle of a sentence describing why he uses rotosound strings as opposed to any other high-quality bass string companies (I was paid to say that) when he stopped dead in the middle of our advert. He could see something moving on the other side of the river. It’s a person, but not a familiar one. He looks almost six foot and most of that height is taken up with long, unwashed, straggly hair... It's Ian, a person whose presence was completely unknown to the rest of the game until then! Of course, you (the reader) and us at the PRSC have been aware of his citizenship in The Arena for days as he has been harboring David, but this is big news to Chris!! Sadly, his attempts to convince Geddy and his other peers of this sighting are futile. Geddy said he’s just tired, hungry and seeing things, and Alex suggested it might not have been Ian that he saw, but bigfoot (Rick laughed). The other members of the Conglomerate insist that he needs to:  

do less work  

relax  

EAT HIS GODDAMN FISH OR HE’LL STARVE 

And get some sleep 

Chris is still pretty set in his ways about what he saw, but what can he do? 

That’s all for today, so we’ll see you tomorrow for... 

The Prog Rock Survival Competition!

[akiraofthefour]

If that book is banned today, what book will be banned tomorrow? And what group will want a book banned the day after that? It's such a vicious and dangerous thing to begin and may in the end lead to exactly the same thing we see in Europe today. Besides, banning books is so utterly hopeless and futile. Ideas don't die because a book is forbidden reading. If Steinbeck has written truth, that truth will survive. If he is merely being sensational and lascivious, if all the 'little words' are really no more than fly specks on a large painting, then the book will soon go the way of all other modern novels and be forgotten.

Gretchen Knief, Kern County Librarian, speaking against an attempt to ban John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath in the county in 1939

[arbeaone]

News: New Podcast From Kim Noble With Julian Barratt, Adam Buxton and Kim’s Mum

By Bruce Dessau on 10/8/2020

Award-winning performance artist and comedian Kim Noble is set to launch a brand new 10-part podcast entitled ‘Futile Attempts (At Surviving Tomorrow)’, with weekly episodes released on all Podcast Apps, from 19th August.

Unlike any podcast you’ve heard before, ‘Futile Attempts (At Surviving Tomorrow)’ mixes live field recordings with a voice over narrative from Kim. Armed with a hidden mic stuck under his jacket, Kim captures recordings from characters who become embroiled in his absurd life. Featuring archive footage of various break ups from his past, phone calls to Kevin Costner’s agent and conversations with his Mum, this ludicrous comedic sonic journey takes you to Sting’s mansion, down a sewer, underneath a church altar and into the arms of a Hounslow based cult.

Produced by Novel, each episode sees Kim attempt to find reasons and methods to survive life. Exploring a universal theme in each episode, Kim takes the listener on a journey to the centre of his warped reality. Starring Julian Barratt as God, Adam Buxton as himself and a ‘bloke Kim sometimes chats to on a park bench’ as himself, with sound by award-winning composer Benbrick.

Using his provocative and humorous style to expose the human condition: Kim Noble explores notions of death, sexuality, gender and religion with dry comedic wit of tragedy meshed with absurdity.

Kim Noble was one half of the Perrier best newcomer Award-winning, BAFTA-nominated experimental art-comedy duo Noble and Silver. He's since featured in shows including The Mighty Boosh, and performed critically acclaimed solo shows worldwide including Kim Noble Will Die in 2009 and the award winning You're Not Alone in 2015, about loneliness and his father's dementia.

Futile Attempts (At Surviving Tomorrow) will be released weekly on all Podcast apps from 19th August and released as a full box-set series on Spotify on the same date.

[makur0]

Terminate him.

synopsis — they were worried that you would never be the same after... that, especially since you were so close to offing yourself. but you manage to come back, as bold as ever. they miss your old self though. [platonic! five eccentrics x amab! reader] PART TWO

content warnings — sfw, small angst, df! madara + kohaku, oc inserts, possibly innacurate lore

author’s note — i have risen!! also part three is guaranteed, i want to finish this (macabre chronicles? never heard of her)

word count — 1876

(one - two - three)

“IBARA-HAN HAS ANOTHER MISSION FOR US.”

Madara Mikejiima looked up from his magazine, curious green eyes greeting Kohaku Oukawa as he walked into the Double Face practice room. “Hm?”

The younger didn’t look amused, in fact displeased as he threw the folder onto Madara’s lap. “A new unit in RythLin is going to be introduced tomorrow night?”

“Already-?” The brunette bit off, heaving a sigh. “Ah, Saegusa. Hm…?”

“I’ve never heard of these people,” Kohaku said, taking a seat next to his leader. “But apparently they’re allied with the Gatekeeper, allegedly one of the Godfather’s men.”

“Godfather, huh,” He hummed, his eyes narrowing. “Hisui- Furoido… yeah, never heard of th–!?”

Madara’s grip tightened substantially, easily ripping one of the documents in his clenched fist. Kohaku blinked, surprised at his sudden behavior. “Madara-han?”

You’re kidding…

“A-ah…” He forced a smile, his attempt at reassuring the younger idol turning futile. “Everything’s fine, Kohaku-san! Nothing to worry about!”

“Bullshit,” Kohaku cursed, catching Madara off guard. “It’s the third guy ain’t it. [name].”

“...”

He sighed. “Yeah, him. He’s from Yumenosaki… at least, he was. Have ya ever heard of the Oddballs?”

Kohaku let out a noise. “Mmm, yeah, from Love-han. They were like weird amazing idols, right?”

Madara nodded. “Yup. [name] was a part of them, but definitely the most inferior one. But why is he back…?”

He shook that thought off, flipping through the other documents. “Caerula… hmm. How were they able to get into the strongest agency undercover? Doesn’t fall into line.”

“That’s why Vice Prez-han wants us to take a look at it,” Kohaku said. “He said the same thing. We also need to be careful though, because I don’t think Hasumi-han or Rei-han know about this…”

They don’t? Madara thought, alarms going off in his head. “Well, this is not good.”

“It isn’t,” Kohaku agreed immediately. “I know little about these people, but judging from the simple background they’re dangerous. I mean, look at Crazy:B. We had the ‘help’ of Ibara-han, but we barely survived. Look at Caerula, they’re already sold out for their debut Live tomorrow.”

“We’ll go to their Live then,” Madara decided. “We’ll gather more information.”

The pink-haired male shrugged. “Sounds reasonable.”

—

“Everything is going according to plan, Boss.”

A slouched over Furoido crept out of the shadows, taking his place next to the well-mannered Hisui. Behind them you were sitting in a lounge chair scrolling through your phone casually. At his report your eyes shot up, a curious glint in them.

A ghost of a smile swept across your face, standing up and walking in between the other two members. “Good, very good… are they seated near each other?”

“Near enough to converse, but far enough to not realize their position yet,” Hisui bowed slightly. “And of course, seated near the front so you can watch their expressions.”

“Excellent.” You threaded your fingers together, doing a final check in the closest mirror. A confident, coy face stared back at you, eyes cold and calculating. 

You mentally chuckled. The scared innocent expression seemed like it was worn eons ago. 

“[name],” One of the stage crew members walked up to the trio. “You’re up in a minute.”

“Thank you,” You waved a hand dismissively. “Tell everyone to get into their positions. I want this Live to be perfect.”

Furoido whistled, giving you an impressed glance. “Geez, what did it take, four months for us to get up to this? Yer really dedicated, aren’tcha.”

“Of course I am,” You responded indifferently, messing with your cuffs boredly. “This is a chance of a lifetime for me. From this point on I’m going to shoot down every single one of them.”

Sighing, you stepped up into the wing. “It’s just a matter of time before I’m ruling Ensemble Square.”

You scanned the crowd, your heart jumping a bit at the sight of a few certain faces before shoving it down with a scoff. As you continued, you noticed two people standing in the corner, the shadows enveloping them.

Double Face… you narrowed your eyes into slits. Well, this makes it hard. No matter.

The stage crew leader shot you a look and you nodded slightly, straightening your tie and finally stepping out onto the stage, submerged in an aqua light. 

Cheers flowed out of the crowd, greeting the new face. You merely smiled and waved back at them, “Hello, Hello everyone~”

You threw your arms open, making the audience roar out. “Thank you for opening the doors for us! From the bottom of my heart I will remember your gratitude and generosity towards us, Caerula.”

As you bowed deeply, you snuck a glance at the five. Hmm. It seems Sakuma has recognized me already.

The said male looked as pale as ever, his mouth open as his red eyes looked shocked and horrified. Kanata and Wataru had found each other and were sitting next to each other, still naive to the fact that in front of them was an old ‘friend’. Natsume had his eyebrows furrowed, staring you down, and of course Shu was working on some sewing in his lap.

“Let us perform for you,” You continued, standing straight again. “Before we properly introduce ourselves.

“Enjoy~”

And learn of the new danger to you all.

—

“How will we greet [name] when he comes back?”

The… Five Eccentrics sat with each other in an empty classroom, well after school hours. Shu scoffed half-heartedly at Wataru’s question, rolling his eyes.

“Bold of you to assume he will come back,” he hissed, masking the pain in his voice. Natsume bristled at his tone but Wataru laid a hand on his shoulder, calming him down. 

“Itsuki is ‘right’ though,” Kanata mumbled, his hair still dripping wet, the droplets mixing with his dry tears. “I don’t think he ever ‘will’.”

“We can at least hope,” Rei reasoned, turning back to Wataru. “So why don’t we think about that question?”

“Exactly!” The said male laughed out, clapping his hands together in an attempt to raise the atmosphere of the room. “Hmm~ so I was thinking that I would dedicate a play just for him! To make him feel loved!”

“DramatizING your apology foR him instead of verbalizing it directLY to him is rude, SenPAI,” Natsume shook his head. “I know it’s in your forTE, but think about [namE].”

“I say strap him against the wall and make him apologize to us for making us so worried!” Shu snapped. “What on earth was he thinking of jumping, non!”

“That’s rather ‘harsh’, Itsuki.”

“...”

It was a sort of joke back then, to take our mind off of him to save ourselves.

I never really thought that we would see him again.

Rei couldn’t take his eyes off of your figure, still trying to absorb all this information. Was that really you? You looked so different… so cold. Who were those two people? They rubbed him the wrong way…

“Sakuma.” The said male turned his head slightly, Shu appearing in his peripheral vision. Without another word he stood up from his seat, following the other as he shivered under your piercing gaze.

All five of them were rounded up and heading for the exit, possibly to talk, but were stopped by two familiars: Madara and Kohaku.

“Can’t you see that we’re trying to leave?” Shu said in a harsh whisper, still obviously ruffled. “Let us go!”

“We want to talk with you,” Kohaku said firmly, staring at him right in the eye. “About… them.”

“I don’t want to,” Rei heard Natsume whisper, then Wataru comforting him. 

“...If you insist,” The former said slowly. “But I do apologize that we aren’t at our best right now.”

“I understand,” Madara cut in, his usual smile gone and replaced with a serious look. “But this is important for our new job.”

The group left the auditorium, shutting the door behind them as the crowd erupted into cheers as Caerula wrapped up their performance. Madara led them into a private door, making sure to lock the door behind them as everybody got settled.

Natsume ran into one of the corners, facing his back towards everybody as he furiously tried to hold back tears. Kanata went to comfort the younger idol but relented at Wataru’s glance. 

“First things first, [name]’s working with the Gatekeeper,” Kohaku said, ignoring Madara. “What? They’re our best bet for information.”

The brown-haired male paused, then sighed. “I guess. But do you think that they’ll know who that is?”

“He was one of the Godfather’s followers and trustees,” Kohaku rushed, turning back to Rei. “And works in the SS Administration Committee. We don’t know much about him ourselves, but he’s dangerous.”

“Interesting…” Wataru mused. “He must have been behind that Akehoshi scandal last winter, no?”

I forgot about that.

“Our question is to you, did he know about the Gatekeeper when you guys were still…” Madara faltered. “Close? I didn’t really know [name] back then…”

Shu and Rei shared a look. “Close is a stretch. Yes, we did talk to him once and a while but he was still very closed off. But I wouldn’t think he knew the Gatekeeper at that time.”

“It could be those two awful-looking members with [name],” Shu stated, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “They’re so… unsettling. It’s terrible.”

“We don’t have much background about them too,” Kohaku sighed in defeat. “So [name] is our best bet. But if they’re as bad as you think, that’s definitely not good for us.”

“The role of Double Face is to terminate bad people,” Rei suddenly said, catching everybody’s attention. “Does that mean you’ll terminate Caerula?”

“Yes—”

“Then I won’t give you any information,” He coldly said, standing up. Wataru, shocked, stood up along with him but the former waved him off. “As much as he may be doing something to harm the Square, which is not yet confirmed, I will not give you anything to harm [name]. He’s been through enough.”

“If he is a possible threat to the idols,” Kohaku snapped back, his gaze as fierce as ever to the older. “Then I will get rid of him, no matter how broken the person is.”

Red clashed purple, and the two stared down at each other before Madara broke in, trying to laugh it off. “Now now, don’t get too riled up… anywho—”

A small click was heard at the door, and the brunet alarmingly snapped his head to the door, as well as everybody else. As the door slowly opened a familiar head popped in. 

It was Hisui, one of [name]’s members. His unsettling eyes looked up at the group before clicking his tongue.

“Oh, I deeply apologize,” He stepped out of the doorframe, bowing gently. Despite not standing up straight he was indeed tall, possibly taller than Madara. “I did not know that you lot were in here.”

“It’s fine…” Rei tried, clenching his jaw. “A… rather good performance you guys put up.”

“I gladly accept the compliment,” Hisui flashed him a toothy smile, creeping him out. “Now I must go. Forgive me once again for intruding.”

And he left, closing the door behind him.

“Madara-han…?”

“I locked that door, I did,” He suddenly lashed out, looking like a cornered animal. “How did he get in so smoothly? How come I didn’t sense him?

…They’re more dangerous than we thought.

TAGLIST: @procrastination-is-my-profession @5ugarcan3 @ibaraluvr​

[bestedoesmeow]

-well, heaven knows I'm miserable now             bradley bradshaw x reader

warnings:none//includes a lot of comforting behavior,smooth roo,late night walking and talking

notes: sorry if u see any grammar mistakes,hope you have fun bestie

word count:2077

Since you don't feel like you fit in and belong at Top Gun, you are having anxiety attacks and second thoughts about becoming an aviator. However, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw,who is at his last week at Top Gun, is come to change that in a single night.

''If you ever behave that way up there, you can be sure that you won't survive long here. "(Your callsign) you are terminated from all flights this week. ''

Admiral said in a tone sending shivers down your spine.

''You are dismissed,tell Lieutenant Johnson that I'm waiting him.''

''Yes.Sir.''

You affirmed before carrying out his instructions. You walked out of his office and gave Johnson the go-ahead to see the Admiral in his office before making your way back to your quarters while attempting to contain your tears. You had a terribly difficult week because you were constantly pushing yourself outside your comfort zone and failing.Knowing that you were the sole aviator called from a different circumstance, as opposed to the other aviators who usually violate the hard deck rules, was your limit.

''I don't know what's wrong with you, but you suddenly lost control of your plane up there, which was pretty dangerous for you and your other pals. Pull yourself together, lieutenant, or you're out of here.''

With these comments echoing in your ears, you felt despairing about the positive things the day might offer you.You've never felt more powerless, out of control, and out of your comfort zone in your life, and you've never felt more unfamiliar with your own existence, steadily losing your own confidence and trust in yourself. As you entered the quarters hallway, you heard some of your peers whistling about what had happened earlier that day. You took a deep breath, already filled with hate, anger, and despair, and hurried your pace, still attempting to fill your lungs with pure air without breaking down.

When you finally made it to your room, which was luckily silent and empty because the last thing you wanted to hear was a conversation about "the trust you have in yourself, breath exercises, and thinking clearly.'' You ripped off your uniform and hurled it as far as you could in the room, you weren't attempting to keep from crying anymore while wearing your panty shorts and hoodie, your tears were uncontrollably running down your cheeks.

"Hey (Y/N)sleepy head, we're heading to the beach, are you coming?"

You awoke to a familiar sound ringing in your ears; at first, you could only open one of your eyes to acclimate to the light.

"How many hours have I slept?" you asked, without even attempting to answer her previous question.

"I don't know, I didn't keep a timer," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

"Perhaps four hours from now?

"Four hours, you thought, felt like a fucking futile ten-minute nap."

"You know,' you muttered before resuming your conversation, massaging your eyes as your back rested against the headboard. "All of that happened today -

''Yes they were real (Y/N).''She said while looking at your swollen eyes and lips.

"But tomorrow is going to be so good that you won't remember any of those things, and you'll also be able to demonstrate how truly talented you are and-" 

You cut her off before she finished her statement you were plucking the sides of your nail as your lips turned down in disappointment. 

"I am terminated from all flights this week (Y/F/N) don't even bother to tell me that I am a literal failure." 

"Oh, I had no idea." 

She murmured after nearly ten seconds of waiting, reached for your hand to rub it. 

"It's fine, but I want to remain in tonight since I'm not having the best one." 

You tried to grin while glancing at her hand which was caressing the back of your hand. 

"Yes, absolutely.''She said before getting up from your bed.She took her jacket before asking you if you want her to turn the lights down.

''Yes,thank you(Y/F/N).

''Anytime.''

Instead of sleeping, your mind wandered, your pillow started to feel like it was made of iron, your eyes started to ache, and your palms started to sweat. You decided to get out of bed and take a walk around the base to get some fresh air at this point. You didn't take off your sweater and shorts before leaving the room,only put on a jacket. Corridors were silent and almost dark, and they were probably just cleaned because the scent of newly mopped floor pervaded the passage.

When you finally got out, the first thing you did was to take a long whiff of the beautiful air and gently release it. To be honest,you felt much more alive, so you didn't regret getting out of bed.As you drew closer to the beach, you noticed your pals reclining on the sand, laughing while playing charade.You didn't want to disrupt their game and you were also feeling nervous and horrible about the way you flew and the comments your instructor used against you in front of them, So you decided to keep walking, because you had skipped dinner due of your crying and sleeping session, your stomach was growling like a literal wolf. You thanked God that there were no aviators nearby to hear that unavoidably loud noise, and you didn't need another source of humiliation. You opted to get some crackers and snickers from the vending machine which was placed in the students' waiting area, your hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket you made your way to the room,climbed the stairs swiftly passed by one or two sentry lieutenants who were watching the corridors and finally entered the room which was unluckily having a group of Top Gun students who were resting on the leather couches of the room,one of them cleared his throat while you were inserting a coin in the machine.

''You did some niiiice flying up there (Y/C/S).''He said, made some of the others laugh.You took a deep breath before turning your face to him.Jake Seresin.Almost the king of the sky, callsign Hangman because he hangs you out to dry.

''I appreciate your candor Seresin.''You managed to say, not in an attempt to fight back because dear god you already were fighting with yourself non-stop and you just couldn't find that energy to bite him or anyone back about the way you fly.

''Oh,he said before coming closer to you in the room.''You don't wanna do this at all aren't you?''

''And why this bothers you so much Seresin?''You said while facing him, your eyes were looking at him tiredly but full with anger.

''Because,he said before tapping you on your shoulder.I don't think you should be here.''And gave you that million dollar smirk of his.

''And your thought changes what Bagman?''You said this time a little bit angrily not even blinking an eye.

''Maybe the way you fly huh?You are apparently the weakest link here.''

''Now you stop Seresin,you are being too much.''Another familiar sound said.You didn't really want to cry in front of anyone in that room but you felt your eyes getting wet with his last words and you didn't find the want inside you to tell him an another word, instead you threw one of your snickers at his face and left the room taking quick and deep breaths while trying to hide your urge to scream a big 'FUUUUCCCCCCKKK''.

As you drew closer to your room, your ears burning with anger and disappointment you heard someone calling your callsign behind you one or two times, at first you weren't sure if they were calling for you but after the second yell you turned your face behind to take a look at the owner of that solid voice.

''(Y/C/S)''Jeez,hey.''

Bradley''Rooster'' Bradshaw, the second best after Hangman-people were saying-was in his final week of the program and was graduating the following Monday, and there was a big question in everyone's mind whether he would win the Top Gun trophy.

And you never thought you'd be able to see him from this close.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you replied, wiping the tears from your cheeks without looking him in the eyes.

"Here you dropped this," he remarked, approaching you to hand you the snickers you just tossed at Seresin's face.

"That was a beautiful shot, though," he replied this time, beaming beneath his mustache.

"Thank you.'

You said, looking him in the eyes with your crimson eyes and a light smile on your lips.

''No,thank you or he would never you know.''He said,

"Lieutenants, you are not permitted to talk this loudly in the hallways. Go to bed or simply leave." One of the sentry lieutenants suggested stopping Rooster before the end of his sentence.

"So, you want to take a walk around, you know-"He continued as you gently descended the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.

"Ah, sure."

You sniffled your nose as you smiled at his request.

When you were finally out, the mild summer wind was all over your face. Rooster was taking slow steps on the stone path, and you kept it quiet for a long until he decided to talk.

''Well he didn't make you cry did he?''He said turning his face to you on the path to the beach, he was in one of his signature Hawaiian shirt's and his dogtag was hanging around his neck.

''No I mean everything happened today was too much for me to handle so I am just having a crisis you know.''You said watching your shoes while taking steps beside him.

"'I'm sorry, I heard what happened, but it's not important you know things like these happen, so don't be too hard on yourself." He said  before offering you a soothing, melting smile.

''You probably weren't almost about to crash navy's highly costly fighter plane.''You said while looking him in the eyes daringly to show how serious the situation was and your voice was apparently showing off your disappointment.

'Oh, he said before breaking out laughing, Wow.' But he made you feel much better about the situation by laughing or thinking it was funnier than it was disappointing, so you put on a nice smile.

"And I'm not sure, but I don't think I belong here either." You mentioned this after clearing your throat after your laughing session.You were taking unsteady steps on the beach, passing The Hard Deck and hearing laughter and music.

"And what made you think that?" You made it here, you graduated, applied, and were accepted; you are no different from me Hangman or anybody else you know; it is quite unfair for you to believe otherwise.''He said in a solid tone before reaching for your hand.

''You shouldn't let people decide or talk instead of you (Y/C/S),you are as good as them and even better if you ever decide to trust yourself.''

While looking at him, your mouth curved into a smile that you thought you'd never experience again.

''Well I sounded too fucking miserable and I am sorry about that.''You said before letting out a little laugh.You took the front pieces of your hair and tucked them behind your ears with your free hand,you squeezed Rooster's hand before looking at him with a nice smile on your lips once again.

''You are a literal hero it's no surprise that the first week girls are crushing on you so hard.''

''Ah that's not the point now honey'' he said while rolling his eyes at you.He got closer to you on the sand before holding you from your cheeks.

''Tell me you belong here now or I'll push you into the sea.''

He was forcing you to look at him while his hands were locked on your cheeks.

''Ugh what's wi-''

''Tell that you are belong at Top Gun lieutenant.''He said before putting his hands on your shoulder to shake you.

''I belong here.''You said trying not to laugh.

''I BELONG AT TOP GUN.''He repeated while trying to hide his grin.

''I belong at Top Gun.''

''LOUDER LIEUTENANT.''

''I BELONG AT TOP GUN.''You managed to say before literally bursting into the best laughter of the last two weeks,Rooster wrapped his one arm around your neck and pulled you into his chest while laughing.

''Now I'll drink to that .''He said leading his steps to The Hard Deck after making you follow him.

''I'll get to choose the drink tho.''

''Mehhh,not so cool of you now.''

[arithecreatorsstuff]

AGENT (REDACTED) HAS A BAD DAY

It started out so well. I had a good breakfast, managed to start work on time despite Dr. Bright hogging the coffee maker in the break room (again), and had just gotten my first assignments of the day. Then I saw it. My first test would likely be my last... try and talk to 076-2. Yikes.

"Who on O5 did I offend this badly?" I wondered as I headed to the cell. As I passed my fellow staffers, many gave me pitying looks. "There goes a doomed idiot girl, poor thing has no idea what's coming." Great. And now I heard voices. It seemed all but official, I am done for.

I bypass the guards, the security, and step into the killing corridor. I hate this place, it reeks of blood, death, and futility no matter how deep the clean. Plus, it's always cold. I wish I wore thermal leggings under my sensible knit dress.

I reach the cube at the end, and as politely as possible, I knock on the door. "Excuse me, Mr. 076-2? I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but the higher ups would like me to talk to you. As I'm just a dumb as hell agent, I'll understand if you're not inclined. That being said, I do have to make the attempt." I pause, and realize just how dumb I sound. "I'm stepping away from the door now, sir." I take a few steps back, and wait.

I was just about to apologize again, and walk away in defeat when the door opened. And my impending doom stepped out. I assumed a defensive position, and awaited death.

"Mr. 076-2? They are sending me a new pigeon, and one not likely to get much older. Such a shame, as manners are lacking in modern generations." I could feel the anomaly sizing me up. "Just what is your age, young one?"

"26, hoping to see 27 in three months, sir."

"Those arrogant fools send children now. Tragic."

"I agree, sir... but I'm a mere cog in the machine. Nothing I can really do."

A few seconds of awkward silence. Then, the anomaly yanked me out of my cowering pose. "You are young, but with my help, you will survive longer than without. Your training begins now."

"Okay... going to warn you... I'm not great with fighting."

"Which is why I am training you." 076-2 handed me a sword. "You know what this is?"

"A sword, sir. And razor sharp."

"Good. You're already smarter than my last student. Now, try and stab me with it."

I grip the sword in both hands. "It's a bit heavy, Mr. 076-2. Got anything lighter?"

"Just try and attack me."

A few back and forth skirmishes, several small lacerations and bruises, some impromptu tips from my teacher, a LOT of profanity on my end, and one majorly embarrassing crying jag later, the anomaly helps me to my feet one more time.

"You learn quickly, little rabbit." I nod, too caught off guard and winded to say much. "You will come here two times a week, until your training is complete."

"Yes, Mr. 076-2."

"Until then, practice your footwork. You're doing well, for someone who claims they are no warrior. Little Rabbit, you are more a warrior than you think. You have earned the privilege of calling me Abel."

I gulp. "Th-thank you, Master Abel."

"Master?" 076-2 looks at me and sort of laughs. "I should warn you, I am a harsh master, if I am your master."

"Sorry, sir. Old habit from karate lessons long ago."

"Nevertheless, I appreciate your respect. You are dismissed. We will meet the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, Master." I bow, and am just about to leave when Abel spoke again.

"Oh, Agent? You're very sweet, and I do hope these swine do not manage to grind that out of you. I so rarely meet such a lovely young woman." I could feel myself growing red. "Be careful, and tell Dr. Bright if he gives you any trouble, as my student he'll have to deal with both of us."

"Thank you Master. But as a lowly field agent, I'm usually beneath Bright's notice. I will inform him, though, as instructed."

"Excellent. Until we meet again, Little Rabbit."

Task 1 complete, I set off for a hot shower, and possibly a new dress. If this keeps up, I may have to start buying all my clothes in bulk. At least my underwear isn't showing. Once in the privacy of my shower, I check my injuries. And wish I could just shut off my pain receptors.

Yeah... if I survive the training, I may be nigh unstoppable.

[vivalas-vega]

guardian / benny miller x reader / part one

hi! long time no see. here is a fic I’ve been working on - I wasn’t planning to post the first chapter until I had more of the story written but I wanted to post this and get a feeler for how people liked it!! 

guardian: chapter one

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 4.3k 

warnings: mention of hookups, brief talks about war/death, drinking, embarrassed Santi, that’s abt it lol

“The fuck is this?” Pope asked, dropping a photo on the table in front of Benny and his cheeks immediately burned.

“Don’t know.” He responded simply, “were you snooping through my car?”

“Cut the shit,” Frankie shot back with a chuckle, “who is she?”

“I’m not bullshittin’,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s really fuckin’ suspicious little brother.” Will chimed in.

“I found it - right before the explosion that knocked my shit out. Saw it sitting in the rubble, next thing I know I’m waking up in medical with some nurse telling me they found it in my stuff, called her my guardian angel. Asked ‘round base and no one recognized her, no idea who she belongs to.” 

“Guardian angel?” Pope asked, what once was banter was now genuine interest.

“If I hadn’t walked over to see what it was, blast would have taken me out.”  

“Shit man,” Frankie sighed, “no idea who she is?”

“Came back to find her.”

“No shit,” Pope was back to banter, acting incredulous that Benny was planning to actually find this girl, but what Benny didn’t know was that Pope was just yanking his chain.

“No shit man, saved my life. I survived some serious shit I shouldn’t have with that in my pocket - seems only fair to thank her. Plus, finding a photo in the rubble after the shit that went down? Probably belonged to someone who didn’t make it out, only seems fair to return it and maybe give the poor thing some answers. Whole thing is still under investigation, families haven’t been told shit.” 

“Alright, and how are you planning to find her?” Will asked, always the practical thinker.

“Well, don’t have to look too hard for her. That’s Y/N.” 

“The Y/N?” Pope had mentioned her a handful of times, talking about the beautiful firecracker he worked with down in the jungle, Pope was infatuated with her despite his insistence it wasn’t like that… because it wasn’t, for the most part. Working in such close quarters with someone for so long, on something so intense bonded you - much like the bond he shared with the men sat around the table.

“Ah, so you found Pope’s girlfriend’s photo overseas… not weird or creepily coincidental at all.” Frankie muttered.

“Not my girlfriend, and you don’t have to worry about her getting answers, she’s already got them all. She’s got more connections than the rest of us, you should still talk to her though, give that photo back. I know she’d appreciate it and whatever corny ass monologue you’ve been workin’ on in your head about her being your guardian angel.” He chuckled, “better yet, why don’t you all meet us for drinks tomorrow? Got some business related stuff to tend to then we’re going out, she hasn’t had a proper night out since getting home. Wound so fuckin’ tight, she needs it. Plus, she wants to meet you guys.”

Meanwhile across town Y/N was sitting in her house going through her checklist of mundane tasks, having more than a couple beers in the process. She could hardly remember the last time she had so much ample free time to do things such as cleaning out her closet or relaxing on the couch with a bad movie… As soon as she was honorably discharged a few years ago she’d barely had time to readjust to civilian life before taking an assignment down in Colombia where she spent her time tracking down narcos in an attempt to make the country safer… a futile attempt but one she was hellbent on seeing through.

That was until her brother was killed in action a few months ago, despite her insistence she was fine, her teammate and now best friend had ordered her to go home and process the whole thing, knowing any attempts to shift attention from her grieving were bullshit. And he was right, though she’d never admit it to his face. She’d needed the time to come to grips with a world without her brother, the person who set her on her current path, a person she’s confident shaped her into who she is.

It was at that moment her phone dinged with a text from the best friend in question, ‘change in plans, we’re going out with the boys after our meeting tomorrow.’ She smiled softly, he’d never admit to such soft descriptors of himself but Santi was about as thoughtful as they come. As soon as he arrived back home in Miami he’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to get her back out on the town, to enjoy some of her youth while she still had it. She wanted to fight him on it, but instead sent back a thumbs up. In all honesty, she was hoping to one day meet the men he went on and on about over shitty beers at hole-in-the-wall bars in Bogota. 

And so she did, after a lengthy conversation about the current state of affairs with their assignment, and a rather crude discussion about Y/N changing her outfit before going to meet the boys, she found herself sat around a table finally putting faces to the names she’d been hearing the last three years and was surprised at how seamlessly she slid into their group. 

“Well, I’m just glad to finally meet you. Every time he calls, Pope goes on and on about you.” Frankie said.

“Is that so? All good things I’m hoping.” She said, shooting a smirk Pope’s way before smugly sipping her beer.

“I’ll never forget the day you showed up on assignment, received a rather disgusting text message-” Benny started but was cut off.

“Alright that’s enough out of you. Don’t you have something more important to be talking about?” Pope said and the way Benny clammed up made her eyes flit back and forth between the two men.

“Thanks for that lead up man, really subtle. Uh, Y/N, do you mind if I pull you away for a moment?”

“Sounds ominous but alright,” she said, muttering a thank you to Will who stood so she could slide out of the booth and she followed an obviously anxious Benny to a booth just far enough away so the boys couldn’t overhear. They sat across from each other in silence and when Benny finally met her eyes she raised her brows as if silently asking what they were doing.

“Uh, no easy way to bring this up, I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I wasn’t really given a choice-” he gestured back to the booth, the boys not being subtle at all about trying to gauge what was happening.

“Well, considering I’ve known you for about an hour, anything you felt the need to pull me aside to tell me is going to be surprising enough so, just spit it out.” She said, trying to make her voice seem as soft as possible, watching as he clearly struggled to find the words.

“I was in Afghanistan, got back just a few months ago.” Her expression dropped, immediately knowing where this was going.

“This is about Drake.” She said and he nodded, taking something out of his back pocket and sliding it across the table to her and she let out a breath as she immediately recognized the handwriting on the back. Get home safe.

“I found it, after the raid. Saved my life actually… it was early, daylight had just broke and we were getting everything together for the rescue choppers coming in when we were hit by an air strike. If it hadn’t caught my eye, if I hadn’t walked that few yards to see what it was it woulda killed me. Almost did anyways but that little bit of distance kept me around just a little bit longer.” He stopped for a moment, watched as she took in the weight of his words, “came to with someone handing that to me saying I had some guardian angel keepin’ an eye out for me.” He laughed nervously.

“Wow, that is… guardian angel, really?” She laughed as well.

“Corny, right? Corny as it might be it kinda ended up being true, I hung onto it when I couldn’t figure out who it belonged to… figured they didn’t make it through that night and just didn’t feel right getting rid of it. After that I made it through some pretty tough situations I honestly shouldn’t have and I don’t know… I know those words weren’t meant for me but I feel like they kinda worked for me, if that’s not a totally dickish thing to say.”

“If I weren’t me it probably would be, but I get how it goes out there. Wish they could have worked for Drake, but I’m glad they worked for someone. I always knew he would die over there, the question was just when. I’d made my peace with that a long time ago but… thank you, for telling me that. Seems weird to say but it’s actually pretty comforting. I’d thought about what happened to that picture, where it had ended up. It’s nice to know it was with someone who needed it.”

“Then Pope went digging through my shit, seemed a little too coincidental that after all I went through with your picture in my pocket you ended up being the girl he won’t stop yammering on about. He really likes you, you know? Insists it’s not like that but he brings you up every chance he gets.”

“That’s sweet… it really isn’t like that though. I won’t lie to you and say there weren’t a few drunken nights when we were both pissed off about what was going on down in Colombia where we blurred some lines but he talks about you guys the same way. Felt like I knew you before I even met you, it’s just the bond that’s created when you do what we do.” He nodded in understanding, he wasn’t sure why he bristled with a hint of jealousy when she mentioned those nights with Pope… he didn’t even know her. Sure he’d looked at her photo every night since he found it, but that didn’t mean he had some sort of claim to her. 

“Well, if it’s not too presumptuous, can I invite you out for a drink? One without those nosy assholes over there?”

She laughed, “that sounds nice, I would love to.” She pulled a pen from her purse and scrawled it on the back of the photo, just under the words she’d meant for her brother that somehow ended up saving the man in front of her, sliding it back to him.

“Oh no, I meant for you to take that back, you deserve to have it.”

“No, that’s yours now. It was there for you when you needed it, who knows… maybe you’ll need it again.” He smiled at her gratefully, sliding it back into his pocket where it had kept up residence these past few months before sliding out of the booth and offering her his hand as she stood. 

“Was that a number exchange I witnessed over there?” Pope asked, sipping his beer with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Mind your business, or I’ll tell them all the embarrassing things you’ve done over the last three years.” She warned, sitting back down.

“Oh, all your rounds are on me for life if you do that anyways.” Will said, already gesturing the bartender over.

“Tempting offer, do I hear a counter to keep the secrets in the vault?” She asked, turning to Pope and folding her arms across the table.

“Literally whatever you want it’s yours, just don’t-”

“Hmm… needed something concrete. Well, I’ve just been dying to tell someone about that 4 am phone call in Medellin…”

“For the love of god-”

“So, one night after I’d finally managed to get myself home after this pendejo abandoned me in a bar for a cheap hookup,” the boys were already tutting in disapproval at the start of this story and Pope sighed as she continued, “he calls me at 4 am to inform me he was stranded across town, stripped of his clothes, his watch, and his wallet and dropped off in an alleyway with nothing but his boxers and his socks.” The boys howled with laughter as Santi’s cheeks flushed, eyes pleading for her to not continue this story. “I actually hung up on him, but he was persistent-”

“I was literally running out of coins I’d found on the street to call you, I could have been murdered-”

“So when it started raining I decided to relieve him of his misery, poor little thing looked like a sewer rat. I actually- oh my gosh. I took a photo.” Santi’s hands were immediately a vice grip on hers as she reached for her purse but Frankie flicked him on the forehead and pulled his hands away, desperate to see the evidence. Her phone was passed around, the boys laughing so hard Benny actually had to take a lap after seeing the photo to compose himself.

“Oh you saint of a woman, thank you so much, I sent that to myself. New contact photo, Pope.” Frankie teased and by now even he had to join in on the laughter.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he warned but she wasn’t worried. 

“Whatever you say, Santi.” She said ruffling his hair, “there’s more where that came from, I’ll take a vodka sprite.” She said to Will, who happily made his way to the bar.

“You could drink me out of house and home and I wouldn’t care, money well spent.” He said, setting her drink in front of her. She raised her glass to clink with his and the rest of the night proceeded just as Santi had hoped it would. Sure, he wasn’t happy to have his dirty laundry aired out but she was having fun and that’s all he’d wanted. By the time the night came to a close, Y/N found herself a little drunker than she’d been in years and as she stumbled into the cool night air, fumbling for her keys a large hand wrapped around hers and took them.

“Nuh uh honey, your car isn’t even here, you came with Pope. Come on, I’ll take you home.” Benny said, nudging her in the direction of his car as he gestured to the boys that he had her.

“Oh hush, I’m fine. I don’t wanna go home anyways,” she mumbled and he couldn’t help but laugh at her pouty face.

“And where do you think you’re going at this hour?” 

“I don’t know, somewhere,” she giggled and he shook his head.

“Alright, you’re coming with me. You can crash at mine.” He guided her to his car and helped her in, laughing as she asked if there were drinks there, “I don’t think you need any more drinks you boozehound.” He said closing the door.

“Who says?” She asked when he got in the drivers side.

“I say.”

She was silent for a moment as she seriously pondered this, “well, I suppose that checks out.” Benny flicked the radio on and he smiled to himself as she drunkenly stared out the window, commenting on every pretty light she saw as they passed. He didn’t quite have the heart to tell her they were just porch lights. 

“Hey, thanks for letting me crash your sausage fest. I had a lot of fun.”

“You weren’t crashing, you’re Pope’s family which means you’re our family.” He stated matter of fact and her chest felt warm at the sentiment. Drake was the last of the real family she’d had left, she’d lost her dad the same way and her mom had died when she was little, Santi was really the only family she had anymore and she felt grateful he’d invited her into his circle so willingly. “Besides, they’re all smitten with you. I’m pretty sure after tonight if you asked them to jump they’d all ask how high.”

“Well, I’m not sure I have that much power.”

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?” He asked incredulously, shooting her a look before returning his attention to the road.

She hummed, “that’s sweet.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out his water bottle, handing it to her. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“That’s an order.”

“I’m pretty sure I outrank you, Miller, but okay.” She unscrewed the lid and didn’t realize how dehydrated she was until she started drinking, pretty much finishing the entire thing in one gulp.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No one likes a gloater.” They pulled into the driveway and Benny helped her out, the drive and the water already helping her to feel more sober as the alcohol faded from her system. He left her in the living room for a moment before returning with a t-shirt and sweats, guiding her to the bathroom to freshen up and change. 

She emerged in his clothes, walking into the living room as she fumbled with the drawstring, struggling to tie it tight enough around her waist and Benny chuckled as she muttered a soft, “help.” 

“How you feelin’?” He asked, securing the string and putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Much better, thanks for letting me crash. Going back to my empty house seemed too sad.” She wasn’t very drunk anymore, but the lingering alcohol in her system still left her in a very truthful state. 

“Anytime darlin’, mi casa es tu casa.”

“Oh, we’re gonna have to work on that accent.” She giggled as she sank down onto the sofa.

“Sorry, not all of us have top notch linguistic skills.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender sarcastically. She laughed as she recounted the several times throughout the night Benny got mad that her Pope and Fish were completely excluding them, lost in their own conversations in Spanish.

“Surprised you haven’t picked up on even a little of it after all these years with them.”

“Just a little, picking up languages was never my strong suit. Also have never been fully immersed in it like you guys.”

“That’s fair, I’m glad I had a pretty decent knowledge before Colombia but my fluency definitely came from being down there for so long.” 

“How did you end up in Colombia, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Not at all, I’d just gotten discharged after a pretty nasty situation in Afghanistan but I didn’t feel ready to give that life up… in all honesty I was fine to continue but pretty much everyone in our unit was honorably discharged. Heard through the channels some support was needed down there and decided to go, I just… couldn’t go back to civilian life just yet, you know? Any other job route I could have taken seemed so meaningless after everything.”

“I hear that, that’s why I’m still fighting… not quite the same but at least I’m not riding a desk.”

“Got any matches coming up?” She asked, tucking her legs underneath her and shifting so she was facing him completely. He was suddenly acutely aware of their proximity and cleared his throat before answering.

“Actually yeah, have one tomorrow… would you like to come? All the boys will be there,” he got a little nervous as he awaited her response. His mind was still reeling from the fact that she was even sat here on his couch with him, wearing his clothes and looking at him with those wide eyes that were, somehow after all she’s been through, still full of light, when up until tonight she’d been nothing more than a version of her he’d created in his head based on one photo he clung to like it was his life raft.

“I would love to! Should I make a sign? I can put a fuck ton of glitter on it.” 

He bellowed, “please don’t, the boys would never let me live it down… having you front and center for me would be encouragement enough.” 

“Then I’ll be there.” She smiled and he felt like his heart was going to hammer out of his chest. It was comfortably silent as she fiddled with the string of the sweatpants, he was aware of how his stare lingered on her could be construed as creepy but he just couldn’t tear his eyes from her. “Pretty insane, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” He responded, trying to follow her train of thought.

“How we ended up here. What are the odds of you finding that photo, me being so close with Pope… I’m not one to believe in signs, but…” She trailed off and he was glad she verbalized what he’d been thinking all night.

“Seems a little too coincidental,” he added. “I honestly never thought I’d find you. I’d planned to try when I got home, I just had no idea how I was even going to start. Nosy as he is, I'm glad he went looking through my stuff.”

“At least the good news is we would have met anyways, Santi has been going on and on about getting us all together since he got home.” 

“Do you guys have any plans to go back?” He asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Tentative, but there’s a lot of factors at play.” She was in on something she couldn’t really disclose yet, but her answer wasn’t a total lie. “We’ve kind of reached a standstill down there, we’re not in a rush to get back until we sort some things out.”

“Good,” he said and he suddenly stumbled on his words, realizing how that could come across, “I mean, just good that you guys get some time to relax.”

“It’s okay, Benny, I know you’re dying to see me again.” She was teasing, but he shifted because she was spot on.

“I am, actually… I know it’s pretty much one-sided at this point, kind of at a disadvantage because I’ve only been looking at your photo every night for the past four months-”

“Every night? Even since you got home?” She asked, heart skipping a beat at the thought.

“Is that weird?” He asked, dropping his gaze as he worried he’d said the wrong thing.

“No, it’s sweet,” she smiled.

“Well, I know it’s kind of one-sided but… I just feel really connected to you, and I would love to get to know you more… if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, why do you think I agreed to go out with you and come cheer you on tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know, just tried to keep my expectations low,” he chuckled, “didn’t exactly think the ‘hey, I’ve been creepily clinging to this photo of you for months, wanna go out?’ angle would work so well.”

“Well, first thing you should know about me is that I put up a good front but I’m kind of a hopeless romantic… I don’t think you could write the beginning of a love story better than that. Besides, it really means a lot to me that you kept that photo… a lot of people would have disregarded it, the fact that you set out with the intention to find me and return it to me… I don’t know, speaks a lot about your character.” He flushed under the compliment and the way she was looking at him. Benny was a bit of a rolling stone, he never let anyone close enough to even be able to make comments about his character and he found himself wildly out of his element.

“I’ll keep that in mind, woo you properly and all that.” He said and she giggled. She was fully sober at this point so she wasn’t sure where the bold streak had come from but she shifted on the couch to lean into his side, laying her head on his chest. He blinked in surprise, looking down at the beautiful girl suddenly wrapped around him before pulling his arms around her.

“Tired?” He asked, and she nodded against him. “Come on, sleepy girl.” He carefully got his arms underneath her and lifted her as he stood, holding her close as he made his way down the hallway to his bedroom. He got her settled in bed before disappearing, coming back to set a glass of water on the nightstand for her. “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, her voice small and looking down at her, completely snuggled up in his blankets with that sleepy look on her face cracked his heart wide open. 

“To sleep on the couch?” He asked hesitantly, not sure where she was going.

“And leave me here all by myself?” She knew exactly what she was doing and she should have been ashamed but she wasn’t. Crazy as it might be, all she wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms, and she decided that wasn’t the craziest thing that had happened tonight so in her logic it all evened out.

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or- it’s really okay, I’ll take the couch and then I can take you home in the morning-”

“Get your ass in here.” She said as firmly as she could muster and he didn’t need to be told twice. He walked around to the other side of the bed and slid his jeans off before crawling into bed next to her. She wriggled around until she was pressed up against him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, not being able to fight his smile as she relaxed into him and tangled her legs with his. It wasn’t long until she was fast asleep and he was not far behind her, getting the best night of sleep he’d had in ages.

[tiens-letters]

with these hands, I vowed to love you

with these hands, I vowed to care for you

and with these hands, I ruined you

Childe (angst)

tw : slight gore and just pure pain

...

It was that time of the year again, going back to the snowy region was a bliss for you. Having to visit your fiancée's family was an unspoken tradition after he introduced you to them. They practically took you in as one of them immediately, especially that little angel brother of his.

Teucer.

The train ride was comfortable , the window giving you the familiar beauty of the snowy landscape of snezhenaya. It was snug inside the rather spacious compartment Childe rented out, even when you told him that you'd rather share a normal one due to your thrifty nature he'd shrug it off, claiming it that he has too much mora and nowhere to spend it on other than you.

Gifts from him would scare you as you knew these weren't anywhere cheap. Everything he gave was expensive, he loved showering you in gifts and it made you feel so overwhelmed.

"Ajax, you're spending too much." you were visibly sweating beside him as he picked out another one of the dresses on display at the local boutique of Liyue.

"I think this one would suit you better, don't you think so love?" of course he wasn't listening, placing the dress in front of you

"Ajax." you frowned at him

" I just want to spoil you." he whines

"I know but sometimes its just..." you stopped yourself before saying anything further in fear of offending him

"Was it too much again?" the tone in his voice softens as he puts back the dress, he knew how you didn't like that habit of his, formed from the first time he saw you down by the docks.

"One dress, Ajax. One is enough since you picked it out for me." you gave in not wanting to see him so dejected, he immediately brightens up as he pecks you on cheek before rushing off to a different aisle of clothing. Sighing, you sat down on the sofa present in the shop, watching the ginger decide thoroughly of what dress to buy.

But of course, your love for one another runs deeper than things bought off gold nor silver. No, it ran deeper than anything else, rivaling the oceanic depths.

"What are you thinking about hmm?" he hums below you, head resting against your lap.

"Im just happy to be visiting again, that's all." you smile, nimble hands brushing through his soft hair "Sleep well?"

"You bet I did." he grins taking your hand and placing a kiss to your beating pulse and then another and another, showering you in his deeply rooted affection. Soon his kisses reached where they are supposed to belong, those soft lips of yours and then inching their way to the sensitive spots on your neck, leaving marks only he can place on you.

Breathless and bothered, you pushed him back "The attendants are gonna see, you idiot." at least you still had some control in you

"They will only arrive when we call them , so its fine to have a little fun before we arrive." there was that sly grin of his as he continued in where you both left off, ears perking to hear more sounds exclusively for him and him only.

"You horny bastard!"

...

It was cozy by the hearth, you and his siblings huddled together in one single fleece blanket, steaming cups of hot cocoa in hand. Childish giggles and hushed stories erupted amongst you. Teucer having wrapped in your arms as he snuggled closer. Anthon and Tonia flanking your sides.

"Hey, who's fiancé do you think you guys are coveting?"

"Oh don't be like that, your siblings just miss them." his mother chided from the couch where she sat, an open book on her lap, she didn't seem to age and always looked so young that at first you were shocked to have been introduced to her.

"But mom, I haven't seen her all day." her son pouts as if he were still a child denied his candy

"Give me a break, you're always clinging onto her you know." his sister rolls those identical thalassic eyes at him "You wont die if you go a day without her."

"Listen here you little---"

"Ajax." you interjected, as much as you enjoy the siblingly banter of theirs, you cant have them going at each other with offensive words. His pleading gaze aimed at you as he practically begged for you both to go home.

"Please?"

"After I put Teucer to bed." you sighed, standing up with the youngest in your arms

"Seriously this guy." his sister groaned "I was having a good time."

"Tonia dear, we can continue our conversations tomorrow." you winked at her, it was a promise

"Fine."

Both of you bid farewell to his mother and made your way towards Teucer's room and tucking him in.

"Happy?" you turned to your fiancée, a narrowed look in your eyes as he grinned beside you

"Of course, sweetheart!" he pecked your lips as he pulled you closer

"Can you not do it in Teucer's room? Have some shame." his siblings' comments were endless, this time it was from his older brother.

"That's why were going home." Childe picked you up as you made a surprised yelp making the other party roll his eyes "Also, get ready to lose tomorrow brother. I'm getting that white deer for my lady."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The walk was short towards Childe's home as he preferred living alone. It was a grandiose manor and you were sure you will never get used to how big it was and filled with such furnitures of the finest quality.

"Well, how was your day darling?" you hummed, arms snaking around his neck

"Oh you wouldn't believe it."

...

It was there.

You felt it in the cold breeze that wafted into the room.

A shift in the flow of the wind, it was different yet familiar at the same time. Leaving the window open as the harsh temperatures of the night climbed and crawled inside. The curtains danced in the turbulent current of the gale, carrying songs only you could hear. Songs that made mountains tremble and build civilizations at the same time.

there was something foreboding, something terrifying and something heavy and dark that devoured anything in its path.

You heard him first before he came in through those doors, that tousled ginger hair of his caked with melting snowflakes in the warm glow of the lamps. His rugged appearance caused by the hunting competition between him and his older siblings induced his worn out state. That soft yet jaded smile of his was what welcomed you as he trudged inside the bedroom, lazily discarding his clothes on the basket for dirty laundry and entering the bathroom for a quick shower.

"why is the window open? " he asks you, sliding inside the warm covers

"I just wanted fresh air ." you smile as you shut the windows and pull the blinds enough for you to see the moon that hung above the sky. Joining him under the covers, you cradled him, his head resting on the crook of your neck. Your hands finding their way into those soft locks of his , entangling them as he hummed softly against you. Those arms of his that held weapons and skin littered with scars both old and new now held you close, so tenderly as if he'd never taken a life before.

"sing me a song, sweetheart. " his queries were simple yet genuine

"of course." you sang until you equated him to a sleeping newborn

It was warm, so warm that you could have mistaken it for a summer afternoon in Liyue, resting on the couch with silken pillows and window showcasing the view of the harbor below. The steaming cups of soothing tea Beidou would brew for you when nights became cold at times she would pay you a visit after trading that would take weeks, months and rarely years.

you slept.

Why is it cold? you wondered, Did Ajax open the windows?

You were blessed by the tsaritsa so such climates shouldn't matter to you.

You woke up.

A shadow was cast over you by the man youve sung to sleep. Virulent blue eyes looked at you with so much abhorrence, for a second you couldnt recognize them and thought it was a stranger to which you were ready to terminate.

"Ajax?" your voice was hoarse, as you slowly lost the feeling in your lips.

He was crazed, still trapped in that dreaming state of his, drifting between experiences. Today was a re-enactment of a memory he would never speak of, not even to you. There were parts of him he'd never tell you, such a soul as yours should never hear.

You choked and coughed as the metallic taste of mortal ichor filled your throat. How could you have not felt anything earlier? Was it because of your futile attempts to coax Ajax back into reality or was it because of the numerous thoughts your mind came up with to he answer as to why he is in such a virulent state. Excruciating pain filled your whole body as you writhed and struggled under his grip. It felt as if something was being ripped out of you.

"Ajax, darling come back to me." you cried, it took so much to even utter a word as you bled out, you know not where but you could feel it. The liquid vital for your survival was seeping out of you, flowing like a lazy river on an autumns day, only that it was warm, sticky and addicting.

"Ajax?" a hiss comes from that mouth, he cringes as you freed your numb hands to hold his face and he let you, seeing as to there was no point in stopping you as you dangerously danced on a tight rope of life and death. You couldn't tell in that delirious disposition of yours if his eyes were shifting between Ajax or the primal eyes of a beast hunting its prey.

It wasn't too late was it?

But why didn't your eyes meet his?

Who snuffed out all the lights?

"I've abandoned that name a long time ago."

The cold took over you completely, freezing you until you broke under his touch with words left dying in your ichor filled lips

and then fear was the last thing you felt.

fear that he might not return to his sweet, charming self.

fear that he will curse everything in his path.

fear that he might attempt to use different various methods to bring back what was lost

and fear of his ruination.

you care not for your death, even in your last minutes of life, you dare not blame him for what he's endured so far. only wishing he never had to experience such in the first place.

This is what the wind warned you about in its lullaby.

...

Childe woke up for the second time.

Oddly more worn out than the day before, but your songs always worked, how come? . He wondered if you left to make breakfast as the covers felt empty as he reached out for you. No, you were a late riser, always having to slumber in the middle of the warm covers of the bed you both share. It was he who mostly did the cooking in the morning. So your presence gone was a displacement in the moment of his waking.

His eyes had to adjust to the view of the room as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips as he called for you. The pitter-patter sound of the water on the bathroom tiles were non-existent as he strained his ears to hear for any trace of you.

"What..." he was confused as to why the room was trashed, furniture broken in half and strewn about the room, the drapes shredded and laying on the floor and the mirror shattered to pieces, shards sharp enough to cut through skin yet he slept through such a thing?

his first concern was your safety as you had not been present in the room and it him.

the heavy stench of blood lingered in the air. His enjoyment for such things turned into something suffocating because blood was never shed in his own home nor in his very room. In the state of confusion, something dark caught his peripheral vision. A large blemish in the covers beside him, it was dyed a deep dark crimson and he knew well what it was. He began to shake in worry, telling himself not to panic until he finds you safe. All he could remember was you singing him to sleep, held captive in your soft arms, encased in your warmth, so how did it come to such a morning that looked like a result of a monster's tantrum. He calls out for you, his bare feet on the floor as splinters punctured them and he didnt care. he had to find you.

The hallways looked haunting, the portraits on the walls taunting him and he swore he was going lose it if he hadnt found you sooner, every room was achingly vacant and it felt like a dream. He calls for your name again in a frenzy as he rushes through the place, had the mansion been this big? he thinks as he runs down the stairs.

There in the fireplace, the dying embers of fire lit from the night before, wood giving away and turning into coal as the burning smell mingled with similar stench that engulfed the bedroom, the same dark liquid on the sheets was present as well, only that it was painted into the wall and bled down creating a cascading waterfall.

Because there you were, with arms spread out as if welcoming each and every sinner for solace and blessing them with forgiveness, the drying mortal ichor behind you creating a halo. Your lips upturned into something soft as if you'd do anything disgraceful to keep the effeminacy on a soul lost to ruin.

an angel crucified.

that oh so heavenly face of yours could rival anything beautiful, even statues would crumble under you, nations would go to war for you and bodies of those who want you would turn into a throne built for you and you only. You were immortally ethereal even in death.

Ajax, dear sweet Ajax felt his legs give away, energy having siphoned from him as he trembled so much that it could rival the mountains when they shook. Thalassic eyes, wide blown into grief, anguish and all other emotions crashed against him like strong waves that could drown anyone caught up in it. He knelt as pain spread through him like wildfire, burning, scorching and killing. Agonized cries filled the room and if someone were to pass by, they couldve mistaken it for a dying animal. He gasped and choked on his own breath as he dared to look at you, the tears freely flowing from his eyes, down to his pale cheek and finally falling off his trembling chin to be hungrily absorbed by the carpeted floor that was also tarnished by ichor.

He felt crazed as he wept and in that moment of insanity, he remembered. That most disgusting sin he's ever committed that he should never be pardoned for in the life he has right now and the next ones he will be in. Through the blur of tears, he saw his hands and he wished he didnt.

Sullied hands befitting a murderer.

He screams into the ground, doubling over as his hands find their way into his hair, gripping it and ripping out those jacinthe locks of his. He could never forgive himself now and he never will. He wails out loud until his own throat collapsed into a croaking mess.

and then he couldnt find himself no longer.

The sand of time seemed to trickle down slowly. His eldest siblings came looking for him, to continue the hunt. A once peaceful encounter turned into a nightmarish reality as they witnessed their brother rocking back and forth with you gingerly wrapped in his arms, mumbling your name. Lips pressed to your forehead as he prayed and begged for forgiveness over and over in hushed torn whispers as if it were enough to bring you back and cover that gaping hole in your abdomen.

"What did you do?"

...

"Brother, when are they coming back?"

Oh darling Teucer, innocence reflecting off his eyes as he tugged on his brother's sleeve. The toy you gifted him clutched tightly at his side.

"I dont know kid, their mission was sudden so its best to wait. Can you do that Teuc?" the truth about you was kept behind closed doors, only adults can speak of and if they did, it took time to keep the conversation smooth and off of any grief nor sadness when your name reached their tongue. The younger ones would never know until the time is right. When everything was taken care of and hearts moved on. 

Your funeral was held in secrecy yet was it was grand. Something that would hold the significance of your memories with them. It was beautiful, your favorite flowers lined along your coffin, and you. Looking ever so ethereal even when death has kissed you, clad in that dress Childe bought for you. 

"uh huh!" the youngest ginger nodded eagerly and skipped away as the eldest sighed into his hands, the pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders as he worried more and more about his younger sibling. Another memory, a mind broken and a his soul withering. was there any way to save him? 

Days seemed to go by as any glimpse of the man was scarce. Until one day they ceased to see him altogether. It started at lunch, a week after the funeral when it took everyone to coax him into eating more as he lost weight  and trickled down to a whole day. Cooped up in his room, clinging to a pillow with the fading scent of you. and then he was gone, like a snowflake melting upon ones forehead. They grew anxious and thought of the worse until they caught wind that he was back in Liyue from one of the agents only then were they allowed to breathe a little better. 

"Childe, what finds you here?" the calm tone of the geo archon's voice broke him out of his trance

"Have you seen my fiance?" Zhongli blinks at the question of the harbinger, he knew what befell you and yet this man before him seemed clueless enough as to what he committed. How Childe did what he did, he seemed to sympathize with in a way that would make him understand his behavior. 

" I have not." he couldnt bring himself to tell this man the truth. Perhaps he was sparing him, spearing that mind of his into spiraling down into nothingness and a heart that was held by a thin piece of thread. "Perhaps it is better to enjoy yourself while you wait for them." 

To deviate oneself from the loss might be the best way Childe right now until his mind is ready to accept the torment of the heavy truth that would slew this man. 

"I see. " he smiles and yet it feels so empty to Childe, the reason? He wouldnt know or atleast his mind wouldnt allow him to know 

"Ill see you around then Xiansheng." 

Everything that he portrayed lacked and all he could do as he's always did. 

...........

i had to.

I hope yall would get Childe :)

[divinolenta]

one last time

diluc x gender neutral reader, angst/sfw

additional notes: uh randomly hurt myself by thinking of this right as i was about to sleep so here it is! my writing never turns out as good as the initial idea i swear...for this i would recommend listening to "the swan" by saint-saen. just a heads-up, starting tomorrow, i won’t be able to post as often as i’m going to be busier.

word count: 1,272

the winery, once busy and raucous, is now quiet as diluc prepares to close for the night.

you remain at the bar, finger tracing over the rim of your untouched drink, deep in contemplation.

you're jolted out of thought when fingers ghost against your hand, and diluc lets out an apologetic hum as he takes the glass from you.

silence descends once again, and you sigh softly, standing up, the stool screeching against the floor. it's time to go.

before you can make your way to the door, diluc speaks up from behind the bar, almost timidly. "when are you leaving?"

you offer him a melancholic smile. "tomorrow at dawn."

duty calls you to a far-away nation, and you have no choice but to obey. it meant endless exploring and adventuring, but you had to leave behind mondstadt, a place you had come to love dearly, along with close friends. a bittersweet opportunity, indeed.

"have you thought of staying?" the desperation in his voice is fleeting, but it’s there and you hear it.

"it’s not a choice, diluc, and you know best out of everyone."

he goes silent, but the way his jaw is clenching lets you know that he's frustrated. carefully placing down the glass that he was drying, diluc steps toward you.

you stiffen. out of everything, diluc is the only one who ties you so strongly to mondstadt. should you have guarded your heart more closely?

"it really is goodbye, then." he whispers, eyes cast down. you frown, reaching out to comfort him, but your hand hesitates, lingering, before retracting.

"before i leave, lets dance. one last time." you utter. not only to lighten the somber mood, but to remember fond memories, when you first met diluc at a masquerade ball a year ago. only a year with diluc, how cruel the gods were, to call you away so soon.

a hint of a smile surfaces, and he nods, offering you his hand. you grin, placing yours in his. diluc pulls you closer to him, and his hand lays on your waist while the other grasps your hand tightly, like you were grains of sand, destined to always slip through.

swaying gently, the only sound is the rustling of fabric as you automatically fall into the rhythm of a waltz, and you start to sing a familiar melody, lilting notes that are like honey to his ears.

diluc twirls you, and you laugh giddily. you wish for this moment to never end, to spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

yet, moments like these always end. moments that fill you with joy, like watching the sun shine, clouds breaking to show cerulean sky. however, the sun will disappear behind dark and foreboding clouds again, and all that's left is only the faintest memory, only a shadow of its former beauty.

diluc stills, and pulls your body flush against his, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. you blink back tears, dreading the inevitable goodbye.

"it's getting late" you murmur, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. diluc looks up, and you're enraptured by the intensity of his eyes. deep crimson, the colour representing the fiery passion of his very being, the passion that he's loved you with.

diluc is left vulnerable in your presence, and as you stare in his eyes, you hate to know that he's shattering into a million of pieces, and that it's because of you.

he's your anchor, the one you look for to seek shelter from the tumultuous world, to pull you back to reality, so when his eyes gloss over with tears, you find yourself unsteady, drowning in despair.

you're leaving. just like everyone in his life has. diluc should hate you with venomous intent, but all he feels is bitter sorrow, and all he wants to do is forgive you.

diluc presses his forehead to yours. "stay with me." he begs, and you break at how desperate he sounds. he wants you to stay but you can't, and he knows that.

tears begin to fall, and you feel like someone is squeezing your heart, twisting it viciously. it hurts so much, you shake, and grip his coat with trembling fingers to steady yourself.

your lips nudge against his from the proximity of your faces, and diluc captures them feverishly. you taste the saltiness of tears but you're not sure if it's from yours or his.

his kisses convey what he can't. stay with me, please. i love you. don't leave me.

he kisses you like his life depends on you, because it's true. if you leave, he'll be lost to the turmoil of his thoughts, alone to hopelessly claw through memories, sift through his past and climb that ominous mountain to confront the truth. he needs you, just like how people need oxygen to survive.

diluc pulls away, breathless, and he's a mess, but even so, you find him captivating. you reach to cup his face, eyes roving over his features. tears have dried on his porcelain skin, and his lips are swollen from kissing you senseless, but he's still so beautiful.

you want to brand his face into your memory, never wanting to forget the exact shade of his eyes, the way his hair curls, or the curve of his mouth.

slowly, diluc sinks to the ground, too shaky to stand. you follow him, pulling him into your chest as you stroke his hair. he's so strong yet fragile, and for a brief second, you wish diluc has never met you, to save him from this.

"i could write you letters everyday." you mention meekly, but the attempt at comforting him is futile, because diluc knows just as well as you, know that letters will only be a temporary solution.

what comes after letters? after the initial feelings of loneliness and longing, all that would be left of your relationship would be faded memories of times that would no longer be significant to either of you.

he lifts his head, eyes boring into yours insistently. "it's no use." he whispers, and your heart sinks at how defeated he sounds. just like that, he’s given up, knowing that destiny has called, guiding you further and further away from him. 

maybe it’s meant to be. 

his lips curve into a tentative smile as he brushes his fingers against your cheek. "i love you."

your eyes fill with tears at the sheer adoration in his voice. you shake your head, fingers clasping around his wrist, as you lean into the warmth of his hand. "please don't." your voice cracks, and diluc falters.

"i love you." he repeats, more firmly this time.

"i love you too." you answer, slumping against him. diluc holds you, not a word escaping as you simply bask in each other's company, cherishing the little time you have left together.

you want to grow old with him, quit adventuring so you can work at the winery with him and share his burden, enjoying the security of having a home, where you can always return to. you want to travel the world with him by your side, fingers intertwined, just as how you’ve given each other your hearts and trusted the other not to break it. you want to hold him as you sleep and wake up every morning and know that he’s next to you, sleeping soundly. 

alas, it’s too late to regret everything, too late to let yourself get lost in wistful thoughts when you’ve already made your decision. 

as the moon continues its steady climb into the sky, you stay there, in diluc's arms, hearts united, one last time.

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

Summary: You accidentally witness a murder, but the murderer takes pity on you. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: murder, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: i've been dying for a mafia au with zeke so here's part one of the series Vogel und Jäger. i have two more chapters drafted, and i'll try to post for this series weekly so i can write some moooore for it.

Bang!

The blood-curling sound was familiar to your ears. A gunshot — followed by the gurgling of a man.

Bang!

Another shot and the gurgling stopped. Panic settled in your heart, making you jump back and knock the metallic bin which served as a shield against the perpetrators.

Shit.

Footsteps drew closer and you began to pray. Running was futile. Running was always futile. Your throat was dry, your mascara was smeared all over your cheeks from all the tears, lips chapped and bleeding.

Our Father, who art in Heaven...

The cold muzzle of the gun pressed onto your forehead and you shivered, breath hitching, eyes glued to the wet pavement.

Hollowed be thy name...

The Mafia never spared any witnesses, you knew that all too well, even if you happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Thy Kingdom come...

"Hey, boss, we got a girl."

"Kill her."

"No, please!" You threw yourself at the feet and mercy of the armed man. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please, I'm only nineteen!" Through the sobs, your voice was still melodious, syrupy. So sweet that the boss stopped in his tracks.

Thy will be done...

Another pair of footsteps approached, tentatively, not as eager as the first person. You still haven't looked up, too scared to even blink, to even breathe.

On earth, as it is in Heaven...

"Hand me the gun, Yelena."

"As you wish, boss."

You felt someone crouch down next to you, someone dressed in expensive clothing, by the look of the trousers and polished shoes.

Give us this day our daily bread...

"You've got a very pretty voice." He lifted your chin up with the barrel of the gun, chills running down your spine.

"T-thank y-you..."

"Can you sing, little bird?"

"Y-yes."

And forgive us our trespasses...

Finally, you looked at the perpetrator — spellbinding grey eyes, platinum blonde hair slicked back and a matching goatee. His gaze was either boring or pitiful.

"Lucky you, we're hiring."

As we forgive those who trespass against us...

Anxiety coiled in your stomach, words caught up in your throat. You were still praying, unaware if this was all a sadistic joke or a miracle.

And lead us not into temptation...

Dark lashes fluttered, more tears streaming down your beautiful face as the gears in your head turned in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening.

But deliver us from evil...

"Hiring?" Your voice went up an octave when you saw the small stag pinned to the man's chest. The Jaeger family — the most feared mafia family in Paradis City.

For thine is the kingdom...

"A pretty voice like yours shouldn't go to waste." He got up and offered you his hand.

And the power, and the glory...

Reluctantly, you took it, helping yourself up and chewing your lower lip.

For ever and ever...

"T-thank you!" You told him, slender fingers squeezing his hand tightly. "I owe you m-my life."

Amen.

"Correct. Your life, your soul, your eyes and ears." He walked you to a car and opened the door for you. "Yelena, take us to the club. We've got business to discuss with my little brother."

•°.•°.•°.•°

Your eyes wandered all over the soundproof office, situated one floor above and opposite the stage. Every inch of the bar, the seating areas, everything was visible from that room. You tapped a finger on the wide window, eyes narrowed at the idea that it might, in fact, be bulletproof. These men were not playing, and you were now their property. The door opened and you jolted at the sound of music filling the office as your saviour walked in with two other people.

"This is my younger brother, Eren. You already know Yelena. I assume you know my name."

You nodded.

"Zeke Jaeger."

"Good girl." Zeke was pleased with your answer as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.

"I thought we didn't spare any witnesses." Eren shot you a look that made you regret being alive.

"Settle down, little brother. Tell us your name."

"Y/N, sir. Y/N Y/L/N." You swallowed, fingers fiddling with the hem of your blouse in an attempt to calm your nerves.

"You see, Eren, Y/N can sing." Zeke opened a drawer and pulled a gun out. More guns, more panic. Your eyes widened and your plump lips quivered when he aimed the gun at you with one hand, glass of alcohol in the other. "Sing or I paint the walls with your brains."

Your legs almost gave in at the threat — you knew it wasn't an empty one, and with all the courage you could muster, you closed your eyes and sang the first song that came to your mind, fucking Kiss from a Rose.

Your voice seemed to coat the people with honey, all three of them somewhat relaxing at the sweet sounds coming from your vocal cords.

"See, I told you she can sing." Zeke put the gun back in the drawer and closed it, swirling the bourbon in his glass before finishing it.

"Where do you live?" Eren crossed his arms, still suspicious of you.

"Historia's." You told him, eyes drifting to the ugly fur rug on the floor.

"The orphanage?"

"Yes."

"But you said you're nineteen." Zeke intervened, a brow quirked at you.

"I am. I try to help as much as possible in exchange for a bed and a roof over my head." You explained, eyeing the white couch that looked so incredibly comfortable.

"Just sit down already." Eren scoffed and you rushed to the furniture, mumbling thank you’s over and over.

"And why were you on that street tonight?" Yelena spoke for the first time since you came to the club. You looked at her and she seemed just as suspicious about you as Eren.

"I... the man you k-killed... he was... I'm-"

"A prostitute." Zeke nonchalantly interrupted you.

It was true. People like you, orphans, didn't have the privilege of being properly educated and finding well-paid jobs. Paradis was a jungle, and you did everything you could to survive. Everything.

"Well on the bright side you don't have to do that anymore." Zeke shrugged as he sunk deeper in his chair, feet on the desk, but you sensed he wasn't entirely honest. "You do have a beautiful voice, and our last girl had some... business to attend to, so you'll be taking her place."

"Is this why you called me here?" Eren sighed, leg impatiently shaking.

"Don't be stupid, of course not. I need Armin to prepare this month's tax reports and I need you to keep an eye on the police. They're sticking their nose in our business again, and I want them out of it. You two can go. Y/N, you stay." Zeke waved his hand and Eren and Yelena left, music briefly filling the office again.

You twiddled with the cushion in your lap, waiting for your new boss to say something. Being in that room was nerve-wracking, and you felt the air grow thick. Eventually Zeke took off his glasses, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

"Sir?" You dared, voice feeble and frail.

"What?" He clicked his tongue and you instantly regretted speaking.

"Sir, I'm not educated, but I've been on the streets long enough to know that every man or woman has a purpose..." You placed the cushion back. "...and a price. What's my purpose? I doubt it's only to sing."

Zeke nodded, fingers tracing the wooden desk.

"You're right, it isn't just to sing. It's to distract."

"Distract who? And from what?"

"You're asking an awful lot of questions for someone who's just witnessed a murder. You best not go to the police." He narrowed his eyes, piercing your soul. You sighed and walked to the desk, taking a seat opposite Zeke.

"It's not... my first murder." You confessed to him.

"Oh? My dear, you're full of surprises. Pray, tell. Drink?"

"Yes please." You answered, throat dry as a desert. "I can't go to the police. And even if I could, I wouldn't." The drink earned a disgusted look from you, but it was better than nothing. "Two years ago, I ended someone's life. He deserved it, he broke into Miss Historia's orphanage and tried to... to..."

"I understand." Zeke stopped you. "And if you go to the police, they'd do a background check on you." He continued, satisfied that he had a leverage in case you decided to turn against him.

"Exactly. And Historia helped me so much, I wouldn't want to put her in danger. So, I'm asking again, distract who from what?"

Zeke walked to the window, telling you to follow him. He pointed at two men, a tall blond one, and a short brunette one.

"See those two? They're policemen. They work for us, but we suspect they're double agents." He explained before pointing at three other men. "Those we suspect of being Marleyan mobsters. You see, Y/N, we have a lot of enemies. And we must keep our guard up every second of our lives."

You nodded, perfectly understanding Zeke's words. Paradis was a chess board and only the filthy rich played — the rest of you were pawns.

"Sir, you spared my life, and I know I can't ask for anything in return. But please, please don't drag Miss Historia into this. The children there did nothing wrong." Tears pooled at your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and you wiped them with the back of your hand. "I swear my loyalty to you."

"For someone uneducated, you're extremely clever." Zeke's voice was serious. You half-smiled at the compliment, but you knew the mess you got yourself into cut your lifespan severely. "Can you shoot?"

"No, sir."

"It's alright, Mikasa will teach you. Sleep on the couch tonight, I'll have Yelena bring you a blanket. Tomorrow you'll swear an oath in front of the family. And if you want to protect Historia, you'll move out of the orphanage."

You nodded. You understood that mingling with the mafia endangered everyone you loved, but you couldn't stop yourself from crying the entire night. Historia was but a few months older than you, yet she gladly took you in when she invested in that orphanage. Now you had to leave everything behind for her safety — and yours.

[bereft-of-frogs]

hello @calicojackofficial has tagged me in a meme to find words in my wip, so I'm going to do that with the wip I'm (in theory) posting tomorrow and those words are: hands, name, across, breathe

hands

“I hope so,” Jakub says as he and Mathieu come towards them, keys to a truck in hand. “We’ll stop by the plane first.”

name

um this fic is about names so this appears 18 times, but this is my favorite section

She hasn’t had a name, not really, in more than 10 years. She shed the one given to her by her parents like an old skin and never bothered to choose a new one. It’s rare enough that anyone asks, here at the ends of the world. It usually doesn’t matter. People are so wound up by their own desperate, futile attempts at survival to even remember her name after a few minutes. She never uses any name long enough for consistency to be important, so usually just borrows the name of someone from her last apocalyptic way station.

“Marr,” she answers. The person from whom she stole that name is dead now, just as the last had been too. She floats through apocalypses, taking on the names of the dead. She forgets them all quickly enough, once she’s used and discarded their names.

across

Sylvie watches Lom walk back across the mess hall. Several soldiers’ eyes also trace his path and then follow it back to her with hard looks on their faces. She doesn’t react.

breathe

Everything is perfectly still and quiet, except for a light breeze rustling the trees. She curses under her breath, tapping at the frozen tempad screen fruitlessly.

Something is wrong.

I'm not going to tag anyone because I have a bit of a headache and the ability to think about things is rapidly fleeing my brain but as usual, consider this an open tag with the same words! Extreme niche crossover fic coming tomorrow 😆

[coldlittlecuties]

ugh, I totally get what you mean about it being cold where you are 🥶 i always think of poor pre-war Steve getting chilled to his bones in the winter and curling up next to the wood stove after a long cold day in a futile attempt to get warm. or crawling into bed under blankets at an unreasonable hour, desperate to stop shivering. (spoiler alert: it doesn’t work and he ends up coming down with something)

GAHHH!! I'm so, so, so sorry this took so long! College coursework sucks sometimes.

I too think about how Steve dealt with winter before the serum! That's one of those fluffy scenarios I play in my mind before going to sleep. It usually involves cuddles with his best guy. I had a little drabble about that in my drive, so I fed it your ask and created this:

Please enjoy this fluffy little pre-war Stucky Fic

Steve cursed under his breath. He had tried to redraw this same line three times now, but every time, he was interrupted by a shiver running up his spine. His hands were already trembling without his gloves on–they made it difficult to grip the pencil–and his full body tremors made it so there was no way he could draw properly.

So, Steve decided to do some charcoal work instead. He had a piece that he needed to work on, and charcoal was a little more forgiving than graphite. Steve put away his sketching materials into his bag, then began trying to set up his charcoal. He blew into his hands and rubbed them to chase away the creeping numbness. He felt so weak and pathetic, shivering in the corner of the art studio in his heavy coat while everyone else was unbothered.

Steve ignored that feeling and focused on his charcoal work. The studio had its monthly showcase in a couple of weeks, and Steve needed to complete as many pieces as he could so he could sell them and make enough money to take Bucky on a date. Of course, it wouldn't look like a date to anyone else. He figured they could go back to Coney Island, just the two of them. And this time, Steve would keep extra train money in his pocket instead of letting Bucky spend it on a dame.

His daydream was cut short by a fit of sneezing. He managed to catch them in his left hand so he didn't mess up his piece. "*Hih'GSHSH! HihiTSHSHmmmphh! Ih'teh-heh'KSHCH!*"

The owner of the studio, Ms. Brown came over to where he was working. She was a tall, opinionated middle-aged woman with black hair that had just a touch of grey. Steve often felt intimidated by her, but she was actually really nice.

"Steven, I think you should just go home, today. It's obvious you aren't feeling well and pushing yourself is just going to make things worse," Ms. Brown said.

"I-I-I'mm *fffff*fin-ne, m-m-m-ma'am-m," Steve chattered.

Ms. Brown rolled her eyes. "Steven," she tried again. "You're cold. You're sick. Go home. Don't make me call James."

Steve fumbled to put away his materials as quickly as he could. She smiled, then went to check on her other students. She paused to say to him, "Steven, if you come in tomorrow not feeling better, I will personally drag you back home by your ears. Get some rest, dear."

"Y-Y-Yes, m-m-m-m-ma-a'ammm," Steve assured.

Ms. Brown had a patented brand of tough love that came from surviving the first World War, getting the Spanish flu, living through the Great Depression, and fighting to open her own art studio for young, aspiring artists in Brooklyn. She was tough, but her students knew how much she cared for them.

Steve double checked he had everything packed and put away before heading out. The second he stepped outside, he was bombarded by freezing wind. Steve's teeth started chattering even worse, now. He stuffed his hands under his arms and walked to the streetcar stop a few blocks away.

Brooklyn was just starting to change from fall to winter. There was some snow sticking to the ground here and there, even more in areas that had frequent shade. A few buildings even had the beginning drips of icicles. The day was overcast and cloudy, so the morning frost was able to stick around. Without the sun, the below freezing temperatures felt even colder. All of this was painfully obvious to Steve as he stood in the unsheltered streetcar stop.

Steve hugged himself and rubbed his arms. Gust after gust after gust of frigid wind buffeted him, like it was trying to knock him over or freeze him solid: Steve wasn't sure which. He kept shuffling his feet and stomping them from time to time in a futile attempt to fight off frostbite. His toes might've already froze off for all he knew. Steve kept telling himself the streetcar would be there soon, then it would take him back to his and Bucky's warm apartment.

The blonde brought his hands up to his mouth to rub and blow into them again. His gloves weren't warm enough. None of his clothes layered on seemed to be warm enough. At this point, Steve could set himself on fire and still be cold. His nose, his ears, and his cheeks were red from the cold. His nose kept running, but Steve kept sniffling to stop it. It didn't work, and he ended up muffling sneezes into his hand. "*huh'TCHSH! uh'kSHSH! Huh-TSCHSHmmphh! uh'TSHSHXX! uhh'tSCHmphh!*"

He brought the collar of his coat up over his mouth and nose to thaw his face a bit. That made him feel a little warmer until a breeze sucked away said warmth, leaving him shivering and shaking and miserable and freezing!

Steve's hands were losing feeling again, so he stuck them in his coat pockets, keeping his face buried under the collar. The wind took advantage of his exposed chest, making Steve shiver so violently he nearly doubled over. His teeth chattered loudly and painfully. He reluctantly took his hands out of his pockets to hug himself again.

He could just see the streetcar in the distance. He double checked he had the right amount of change in his left pocket. Steve's hands were trembling so bad he didn't think he could count out the change without spilling it everywhere. He silently thanked his past self for always keeping transport money in his left pocket.

Finally, the streetcar arrived. Since it was so late in the morning, there were only a few people on board. A couple of other people were at the stop with Steve, so he let them board first. It gave him enough time to get the change out of his pocket. He managed to get it into the collection tin. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and stiffened his shoulders to fight back shivers. He waited until he was behind the other passengers and sitting down before giving up the fight.

The inside of the streetcar was much warmer than outside, but the chill was so deep in his bones Steve didn't think he would thaw completely until April or May at least. It was November. Steve groaned at the thought. A woman a few seats ahead of him turned around to look at him. Steve did everything he could not to look as pathetic as he felt. It didn't help though, as he was still shaking uncontrollably.

She stood up and started to approach him. Steve braced himself for the usual lecture of "it's not that cold" and "buck up, sissy pants" and, his personal favorite, "man up." What the Hell did "man up" even mean?! Act like a man? He is a man!… sort of. He was only 19, which is technically still a kid. It has "teen" right in the name after all.

Steve was pulled out of his thoughts when the woman sat on the bench next to his. She reached into her purse and pulled out a blue knit scarf. It was the same pattern as the green one she had on. "Here, you look like you need this," she offered, handing him the scarf.

"Th-Th-Th-Thank y-you, mmma-a'am, b-b-b-b-but I-I'm a-a-alr-right. I-I-It's c-c-c-c-cold ou-out th-th-there. Y-You sh-sh-should k-k-k-keep-p i-it," Steve insisted.

"I know it's cold out there. You're shakin' so hard I'm surprised the Earth hasn't started trembling," she replied. Steve smiled at that. The woman was still holding the scarf out for him. "My arm is getting tired."

That convinced Steve to take the scarf. He wrapped it around himself a couple of times. It was wide enough to cover his shoulders and his nose. He pulled it down a little. "Th-Th-Thank y-y-y-you."

"You're welcome, young man. And do me a favor would'ja? Get a hat before your beautiful hair freezes off!" She and Steve both laughed at that. The woman got off at the next stop a few moments later. Steve waved to her as the streetcar took off again, and she waved back.

The scarf was so warm! It chased away the worst of his shivers after a few minutes. Steve was about to drift off when he realized his stop was next. Thankfully, he didn't need to pull the signal because a few people were standing at the stop. Steve gathered his bag and stepped off from the streetcar.

A light snowfall had started during the ride. It was just barely enough to stick to the pavement. Steve couldn't help worrying about Bucky working at the docks in this weather. He prayed his boyfriend was working in one of the warehouses today. He couldn't imagine how frozen Bucky might be by now, even as Steve himself was half frozen.

Steve was shivering so violently that he struggled to get his key out from his pocket. He fumbled it and dropped it a couple of times before he finally unlocked the door. He closed the door with his foot and locked it again. It was easier for his trembling fingers to grip the lock than the key, but his hand still slipped once. Steve took off his outermost layer of clothes that had been lightly dusted by the snowfall. He set them on a chair in front of the wood stove to dry out so he could wear them again.

The apartment was so cold that Steve could see his breath. He blew into his hands a couple of times to ease the trembling. He opened the stove and put in a log, sticks, and some shredded paper. Steve had to take his hands out of his gloves so he could use the matches. He fought back a shiver to strike the match. But as soon as the match touched the side of the box, Steve shivered so hard he broke the match in half.

He cursed again, then sneezed into his arm. Steve picked up the broken match, let himself shiver again, then tried to strike the match once more. This time, he lit the match. His fingers were so close to the flame Steve felt them getting burned. He quickly tossed it into the stove so it landed on the shredded paper. Steve stuck his burned fingers in his mouth to stop the burning. It worked until his teeth started rattling again. He pulled his gloves back on and watched the fire grow.

Steve huddled as close as he could to the stove. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from crawling into the fire. He hugged his knees to his chest to help warm up. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t stop shivering! Steve longed for Bucky to come home and cuddle him. Bucky’s cuddles always warmed him up.

****

"Brrr!" Bucky shivered, setting the bag of food on their kitchen counter. "Oh, it's freezing out there! Hope the studio was warm today."

Bucky glanced around their small apartment looking for Steve. The stove was out and the lights were off, but Bucky knew Steve was here somewhere. He couldn't see him, so he checked their room. Sure enough, Steve was curled up in their bed with the covers up past his nose and one of Bucky's hats over his head. Bucky smiled. "Guess the art studio was a little chilly, huh?"

His smile turned to a frown when Steve didn't respond. "Stevie? You awake?" Bucky kneeled down beside his boyfriend to check on him. That was when he noticed how much Steve was shaking. Bucky placed the back of his hand on Steve’s forehead, then immediately yanked it back. He was ice cold! “Stevie?! Hey, babydoll, wake up for me, yeah?”

Steve forced his eyes open, then curled into himself with a violent tremor. Bucky could hear his teeth chatter. Bucky kissed his forehead and rubbed his sides. “Hey, baby. How're you feelin'?” he sighed.

“C-C-C-C-Co-Co-Cold-d-d, *buh-buh-buh*Bun-n-n,” Steve moaned.

Bucky felt his heart ache. “I know, honey. Wait here, I’ll light the stove.” He started to walk back to the living room, but Steve reached his hand out to grab the edge of his sleeve. Bucky turned around to see two wide, blue eyes pleading for him to stay. Bucky kneeled by his side and kissed him again. Steve was starting to pull himself into Bucky’s chest, but Bucky stopped him. “Just give me a second, baby. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Steve finally let go with a whine. Bucky tucked the blankets back around him, then hurried back out to the main room. He opened the grate to the stove and saw some embers still glowing. Bucky poked at them with the poker to coax the fire back to life. He had to toss in a few more sticks and paper, then added a couple of logs once the fire was strong enough. He set the containers of stew onto the cast iron surface of the stove to keep warm while he checked on Steve.

Bucky went back to his and Steve’s room. It was too far away to feel the warmth of the stove. It was no wonder Steve couldn’t get warm. Bucky crouched in front of him again. He scooped Steve into his arms, blankets and all, then carried him out to the main room. Steve nuzzled his face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“I know, babydoll. I know. I got’cha. You’re okay,” Bucky soothed when he heard Steve whimper.

“...c-c-c-cold-d-d,” Steve moaned. Bucky sat in front of the stove with Steve in his lap.

“Shh… shh… shh… it’s okay. I’ve got’cha,” Bucky murmured as he tucked the blankets tighter around Steve so there was no way the cold could get to him. Bucky squeezed his boyfriend tightly, dotting kisses over the exposed parts of his face around his eyes. Steve cried out as he was wracked by a violent full body shudder.

“My poor babydoll. You must’ve been so chilled in the studio today,” Bucky sighed.

“C-C-C-C-Could-dn’t ssss-s-sto-op-p-p… sh-sh-sh-shak-k-king. *huh-tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh*... M-M-M-Missss B-B-BBB-B-Brown ssss…s-s-s-sent m-m-m-me *huh-huh*hom-m-me,” Steve chattered out. "*heh'TSCHSHuugh! ehh-t'SHSHeew! eh'heh-heh'KSHSHuugh!*"

“Aww, bless you, honey. How long have you been home?” Bucky asked, massaging Steve’s limbs through the blankets.

“... l-l-l-l-lev-v-ven,” Steve mumbled.

“Eleven?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. Bucky looked at the clock. It was nearly eight o’ clock! That means Steve had been freezing to death for over nine hours! Probably longer if Ms. Brown sent him home! Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts when Steve began coughing. Bucky kissed his head again. “Poor guy.”

The young couple sat in front of the stove for over half an hour, talking about nothing in particular. Bucky kept massaging Steve’s limbs as his shivering finally eased. Steve was nearly asleep when Bucky moved him to the couch in front of the stove. Bucky brought over the containers of stew and the bread that got slightly toasted sitting on top of the stove.

“Figured stew would be good today. It was freezing at the docks!” Bucky commented.

Steve took a sip of the broth and shivered before he responded. “I was worried about you when it started to snow.”

“Wasn’t too bad for us. We were moving around a lot and took a bunch of coffee breaks. If that was coffee, that is. Tasted like crap, even to a bunch of guys freezing their bits off,” Bucky said.

“With all the money they save with your crap paychecks, you think they could at least get you decent coffee! At least Folgers,” Steve agreed. He could see Bucky starting to shiver beside him, so he brought the blankets over his lap too.

Steve and Bucky spent the rest of the night on the couch, bundled in blankets, cuddled together, and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, they both laid back with Steve on top of Bucky, nestled between his boyfriend and the couch. Steve was so tired from shivering all day that he fell asleep in seconds.

Bucky was awake a little longer, rubbing Steve’s back and running his fingers through his fluffy blond hair. He could feel his head was a little warm and, judging by how red his cheeks were, Steve was going to have a Hell of a fever. Bucky had a day off tomorrow, so he could spend the day snuggled up with his boyfriend. He kissed Steve’s head, then he too drifted off.

[hamliet]

Penny and Death in Fiction

Musings more so than meta, brought to you by frequently receiving asks accusing me of hypocrisy for having different opinions on characters dying in different stories, and as a way of me working out why I feel very, very differently from most of the RWBY fandom about Penny’s death. Obviously this is not to say people can’t have their own feelings or disagree (clearly the majority do disagree) but these are just my thoughts based on how I read death in fiction and the themes/set up or RWBY in particular.

"Anyone can die" and "redemptive death" and "sacrificial death" are overused tropes for sure. But that doesn't mean they never work or never fit. They just are often used as cheap ways to hook an audience (instead of relying on the substance of the story) and/or avoid difficult questions in a story that would demand exploration (like what happens to the mass murderer after redemption?). The oversaturation, and frankly, misuse, of these death tropes almost seems to have led to a sort-of knee-jerk reaction in fandom in the other direction, where death can’t happen at all or it’s bad writing, and I just... I don’t agree.

A story doesn’t need to avoid the topic of death to be hopeful. In fact, to many of us, it’s comforting to see grief on screen and to be encouraged to grieve.

SnK’s main theme is “the world is cruel, but the world is also beautiful.” We see that death is one of the cruelest parts of the world from the very first chapter, with Carla’s death. And yet, we’re shown that risking lives for a greater cause--the Survey Corps in the opening pages--is a part of that beauty. So, while SnK is sometimes very critical of self-sacrifice (Armin, Reiner, and Historia are all suicidal and looking for a hero’s death as a way out), it isn’t always. There’s nuance. Erwin’s and Porco’s and Zeke’s deaths, for example, are framed as moments of heroism because of the desperate circumstances. The circumstances are cruel, but within a cruel world, they were capable of beautiful choices because choice is in some ways all we’re guaranteed; we can’t choose our circumstances. The reason Eren was never going to survive SnK after this turn was because he acted against the main theme, against the concept of choice, removing it for many people, and against the concept of being born into the world being enough to give life value.

BSD is my favorite and probably the most flagrant about redemption and not killing its characters (any main ones so far). But it makes sense when you look at what the theme is--it’s specifically about looking for a reason to live. However, BSD  doesn’t avoid death either: all of its characters’ backstories are steeped in death (most are orphans, Oda, Atsushi’s headmaster, etc), and Dazai’s suicidal ideation forces the characters to confront the helplessness of grief and pain without actually killing characters. Our main characters probably won’t die--they’ll find a reason to live--but they still have to deal with death around them, and learn to grieve when appropriate. Death, the high cost of living.

Tokyo Ghoul was probably the most blatantly critical of self-sacrifice, exploring the ways self-sacrifice hurts those around you and was often just a desperate attempt to find a place in the world and assert you matter via a glorious sacrifice. Thus, its main message was “it may not be stylish, but... live.” But even so, characters died all the time in TG and TGre. Grief and learning to carry on in a brutal world where some types of people (ghouls) were forced to kill were major presences in the story. In fact, it seemed to suggest living was a valuable enough premise itself that to keep living even in the face of impending death was beautiful.

BNHA’s main theme is “heroes save.” BNHA has established someone dying as distinctly not saving them (see: the Ending fight, where our MCs literally say that they won’t let anyone die); hence, it doesn’t make sense for the heroes to “save” the villains only to have them die. If you’re gonna reward your MCs for upholding the main theme (you should), they should have their decision matter.

Tonally, RWBY is most similar to BNHA in that they are both fundamentally hopeful, optimistic stories. However, RWBY and BNHA frame death differently because of their particular themes and storylines.BNHA’s premise is based in superhero genre, where death is usually meaningless; RWBY’s is in fairy tales and alchemy--both of which have death as a central tenet. Yes, fairy tales, while we think of them as being very kid-friendly, almost always include an aspect of death and/or loss. RWBY frames death as part of life, BNHA frames death as something that villains utilize to hurt and thus needs to be stopped. For RWBY accepting death is literally the main conflict (Salem's motivation is her inability to do this!) while BNHA saving people from being hurt is the main conflict.

I’ve seen so many takes that RWBY is critical of self-sacrifice, and it is just... not. It doesn’t glorify it, but it doesn’t deconstruct it either. Pyrrha’s death is not a sacrifice; she’s not trying to gain time. She’s just trying to do the right thing for herself, to be the hero she knew she was. Her death is somewhat pyrrhic, yes, because everything still collapses, but Pyrrha’s life--of which her death is a part, not the end--is far from futile. The scene with Pyrrha’s mother at the statue of her shows that Pyrrha’s heroic legacy, her determination to do all she could to stop Cinder even when she knew it was hopeless to stop her--that helps Pyrrha to live beyond her death. I mean, RWBYJNROE are facing the possibility of never being able to defeat Salem, but they’re still fighting, just like Pyrrha.

As for actual sacrifices in the story, Hazel’s death saves the kids. Vine’s saves his friends. Penny’s saves her people for now, but it doesn't immediately solve the conflicts either. Thus, it doesn’t glorify her death or hold death up as a worthy goal, but it does respect her choice and does not frame it as a bad or futile thing (if it was a bad thing, she wouldn’t have saved everyone even if temporarily).

Penny wanted to be a human being; that was her greatest wish, even with the guarantee of eventual death and no guarantee of tomorrow. She always was human, of course, but she wanted to be human in all senses, including the physical as well as the spiritual (which she always was).

Is her resulting death a negative framing of that choice? No, I don’t think so. In RWBY, death is not punishment. Grief is not a punishment. Death is a part of life, and learning to live with death (grief) is essential to a peaceful, healthy world. We see what happens when people cannot accept death and grieve (Hazel and Salem). 

Penny’s whole thing was that her choices weren’t respected. She was constantly objectified. Yet choice is a fundamental part of being human, and the repercussions of our choices are a part of that. She wanted to choose. Like with SnK, sometimes all we have is choice in RWBY. It’s one of the gifts of the gods, after all. All they can do is choose to keep fighting, keep trying in a broken world.

Yes, I do think it’s a bit of a valid criticism to have had Penny suicidal a few episodes ago, but she was not suicidal in the moment of her death. She wasn’t hoping to die. She had gotten everything she wanted; she could not be controlled anymore, not in the way she had been. She was giving it her all against Cinder to save her friends and her people; if Cinder hadn’t shown up, she would have just gone to Vacuo. Her final choice was to decide what to do with her power, sometime Cinder could not take from her. And like Pyrrha, she will continue to live on in those she loved--in Winter via the powers, and in spirit with her friends and their memories.

Penny’s death is not a negative thing, but bringing her back against her wishes would be.