#He's just a boy unlike those veterans

[bestialitybestiary]

My mind is basically rotating between Jackson, Stiles, Peter and Theo

I want to put them together in the jar and shake it

[peachetteprice]

Call of Duty - Masterlist:

The Complete Masterlist of: peachetteprice.

Asks and submissions are open!

Feedback Policy

External Links | Ao3 | Wattpad: Peachette_Price

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Key

× NSFW content - ranging from sexually suggestive themes to explicit smut. This content is not to be interacted with by minors. I give you my partial trust to adhere to this, but I will regularly check the age of the blogs following me and block when necessary.

// This is an ongoing work.

< / > This work is unlikely to be completed now and/or in the future.

(REQ) This work is published as a request by a user.

TF141 Headcanons:

Driving Habits - How would the boys usually drive? What are their habits when in the hot seat?

Cheating Partners - POV: I let an anon down by not fulfilling their request and still posting it anyway. Ft. Phillip Graves. ×

Captain John Price:

42-Year-Old John Price - He isn't as sprightly as he used to be. ×

Eighth Date - John reveals to you about his profession, but you're much too taken by something else!

Speak Up, Love - Uh-oh. John's lost his voice. Wouldn't it be such a shame if someone teased him about it? ×

Stern Captain John Price - He really... really... becomes accustomed to the life of a cat owner despite his penchant for dogs. ×

How it Should Be - John's a hardened war veteran... but he still gets flustered every time you call him handsome. ×

A Deal of Cards - (REQ): How might Price deal with his gorgeous, talented partner: a spiritulist, working in the creative field with a rather earthly aesthetic? With love, of course.

What a Bargain - John is a man who loves bargains. That's it.

Jeweller!Price - Uh... John's a jeweller. That's it. Pretty straight-forward, innit. Pt. 2 ×

Accountant!Price - He's an accountant. You get it by now, right? ×

The Gloves are On - The gloves stay on, even when he's finger-fucking the ever-living daylights out of you. ×

Neuroscientist!Price - Price is a neuroscientist with a dark present. ×

Coworker!Price - don't get it twisted. This isn't 'accountant' Price. ×

Domestic!Price - He's just a little guy with fuzzy socks on.

Agent!Price - He's only ever been an Agent: what are you on about 'Captain'?

EmotionallyUnbalancedWriter!Price - He reminisces on a love lost.

The Uniform - John lets you have all the fun 'playing Lieutenant'. Don't worry, he knows his place, too. ×

CultLeader!Price - Oh, how we rejoiced!

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Strangers in the Night - Simon has a waking nightmare; you're always there to provide comfort.

A Hand for Radio - You're not just on the team to dilly-dally, something that everyone, including Soap, finally needs to understand. ×

Some Days - (REQ): Simon and Reader have a spat. Reader feels invalidated and rightfully tells him so, because what a bitch, honestly.

Fisherman!Simon - it's Simon... but as a fisherman. I don't know what more you want from me.

Full-length works:

27 Hawthorn Court - Simon "Ghost" Riley finds himself in hot water after the Greater Manchester Police suspect him of murderering his family: his brother, his brother's wife, and their son. < / >

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Could Have Been - Didn't you know, Gaz could have been a professional footballer?

One of Those Nights - It's your favourite thing about him, truly. ×

Born For It - Oh, but he's just so rich and handsome, whatever shall you do? ×

Morning Brew - Kyle likes his coffee like he likes his coffee, and his mornings, entirely unlike his coffee: full of lazy sex! ×

Backshots with Kyle? - The one thing he loves to do more than anything ×

Bar Meet - You meet Gaz in a bar. Even after the night is over, he isn't done. ×

John "Soap" MacTavish:

The Ever-forgetful John "Soap" MacTavish - Poor bastard never remembers not to use the water when you're mid-shower!

A Dream to Build a Life On - It's tough to have almost everything you've ever wanted right at the tips of your fingers, but have one thing... just one thing... that seems entirely out of reach. ×

Days of Old - It's never easy to watch something drag the life out of a loved one's eyes. ×

The Highlands - A short drabble about Johnny coming back to Scotland every once in a while to re-live the simplicity of rural life. Ft. Part 2

Charity Dinner Ball - Soap relieves his OWN Charity Dinner Balls... pause... after being drawn to you the entire evening. ×

Needy Soap - I need him biblically, I fear. ×

Phillip Graves:

Full-length works:

Mister Commander - (DBF) Winnie Collins knows better than anyone that a homestead requires up-keep. When she returns home to Texas, following the dissolvement of her engagement to the man she thought she loved, there's a stranger on her parent's ranch, during the height of May heat, in a town where nothing but dirt and sweat remain. Phillip Graves. He's her father's best friend - and he's here to stay. × //

Ghost x Soap

Two Men in a Boat - A boat bobs along the ocean. Within, there are two men.

[janeyseymour]

You Matter To Me

Summary: Based off of the stunningly and hauntingly beautiful song in the musical Waitress, by Sara Bareilles. After years of hiding, you're going to let yourself free, with the help of Melissa.

If you haven't heard this song, I highly suggest listening to it, and crying like I do.

WC: ~2.9k

Your life hasn’t been good for… as long as you can remember, if you’re being honest. It’s been train wreck after train wreck. But unlike some of those around you (your mother, your sister, your brother), you’ve changed the cycle and changed the game- or at least tried to. You took all of those years of abuse and neglect from your father and became a teacher at Abbott Elementary. Your only goal in life is to make sure those kids are as loved and as cared for as they can possibly be by you. Teachers saved your life all those years ago, so if you can be that person for even just one student, you know you’ve made your mark on this world.

The only thing that’s the same about your life compared to your family’s is that you… you made a choice, a not so great choice, when it came to who you were going to marry.

It started back in high school when you fell for a boy who used to sing and play guitar, serenading you. You, in true teenager fashion (and maybe a little naivety), fell for a boy and his boyish charm. He’s been by your side since. Mason has been by your side since, and while you’ve grown up, he hasn’t.

When your mother died, he stuck by you though. He took you in when you were faced with either barely scraping by on your own or moving back in with your father… he saved you from poverty for the rest of your life and from the abuse that your father would without a doubt hurl at you if you were to go back to him. 

He proposed to you with a lousy ring, and because you figured that you were lucky enough to find what you thought was love, you stayed. You married him. And you wish you wouldn’t have.

Because now, what were once warm kisses and sweet songs dedicated to you have morphed into hungry, horny kisses and smashed guitars during fits of rage. And it… it’s turned into an almost perfect side by side of what your mother’s marriage was before she passed away tragically.

You hold what happens at home to yourself- there’s no need to burden those around you with you problems. So, you throw yourself into teaching and making the world a bit brighter in the small ways that you can.

At school, you’re a part of quite the crew: a veteran kindergarten teacher who is as regal as the queen, a quirky man who is all about social justice (and you’re sure if you went to him for help, he would have resources for you in a flash, a custodian who lives life to the fullest, two younger teachers who have finally found each other, a principal that is all play, and then… a fiery redhead known for being tough as nails but turns to butter for you.

You’re quiet, timid- you always have been. That’s just been part of your personality for as long as you can remember. Or maybe the lively and effervescent side of you was beaten out of you by your father. Any normal person would not pick up on the subtle signs of abuse that you show.

But Melissa Schemmenti does. And it breaks her heart to know that you’re hurting, or at least to think that she knows you’re hurting. It’s part of why she puts her ‘tough as nails’ act aside when you’re around- she doesn’t want to startle you. She doesn’t want you to feel as unsafe as you usually do when you aren’t within the confines of the school.

During your preps, Melissa finds her way into your room quite often for an extra cup of coffee and to discuss things that happen at the school. But today, you really aren’t feeling it.

Mason was brutal last night. You’re hurting all over, and you really don’t feel like having to cover up what is happening off school grounds. So, instead of keeping your door open during prep as you usually do, the door is shut. Your lights are off, and you gently hold an ice pack to the bruises on your ribs inflicted on you from the previous night. You have a heating pad on your back for the soreness that you feel from an injury in the past. You settle into your chair, prop your feet up on a student chair, and try to get as comfortable as possible before resting your head against the back of your chair. Your eyes close as you try to adjust to the cool sensation on your front and the hot sensation on your back, hoping to get at least a few minutes of shuteye in before you have to pick your kids up again. Your husband kept you up most of last night- first with his actions, then with the consequences of his actions on your aching body, and finally his incessant snoring.

You feel like you’ve rested your eyes for about thirty seconds before you hear the door to your classroom open. Your body can’t take you moving too quickly at the moment though, so you just come to terms with the fact that whoever is at the door caught you with your feet propped up and eyes closed. At least they can’t see the bag of ice you have under your sweatshirt, or the heating pad that you’re leaning against.

“Hun?” Melissa knocks on your doorframe softly before taking a few steps into the room. “You okay?”

I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes. They’ve seen things you never quite say, but I hear. Come out of hiding, I’m right here beside you. And I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.

You open your eyes and turn your head just slightly to look at her, and… she wasn’t quite ready for you to look at her the way you do. As you look at her tiredly, she can see the pain and exhaustion of the things that you refuse to say aloud. She hears the things that you never quite say, but she can hear it clearly in her head. She knows those eyes aren’t just perpetual exhaustion.

“Just tired,” you say softly as you subconsciously pull at your sweatshirt, making sure that she can’t see the slight bulge of the ice pack. “Mason and I were up late last night.”

The redhead lifts a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly. “Just… tired is all.”

The second grade teacher catches the way that you hesitate in your response, and she wants to beg you to just tell her the truth- to come out of hiding. Tell her everything that she thinks is happening is true so that she can help you get away from the situation you’ve found yourself in. Instead, she just holds up the cup of coffee she brought you and steps in a few paces further. Melissa sets the coffee mug on your desk and pulls up a chair next to you before taking your hand softly.

You look at her with a confused look. Why is she holding your hand suddenly? The two of you have flirted innocently, but she knows you have a husband.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m right here beside you,” Melissa tells you with as much heart as she can pour into those few words.

You hum quietly as you reach forward just slightly to grab the cup of liquid gold. In doing so, the icepack crinkles under your shirt. Your eyes widen just slightly as you go to adjust it quickly.

“Y/N,” she whispers. And in that moment, you know she knows. Fuck.

“I- I bumped into my counter on the way out the door this morning,” you try to excuse weakly. It doesn’t do you much good, because the green eyes that you’ve looked into so often see right through your lie.

It’s odd to see a few tears prick at the corner of Melissa’s eyes, and it’s an even worse feeling to know that you’re the one who caused them. “Mel, I- Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” the usually tough teacher’s voice cracks ever so slightly. “I wish you would just… come out of hiding. Tell me what I think I already know. I’ll- I’ll be right here beside you through it all, and I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.”

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You bite the bottom of your lip before nodding, just barely. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine.”

“You are not fine right now,” Melissa counters.

“I’m used to not being fine,” you mumble. “But I will be… just keep having to hold out hope, and I’ll get there.”

“What if you aren’t?”

“As long as my kids here are safe and okay for as long as I’m here, I will be,” is all you can tell her.

“Do you not understand that you matter to me?” your colleague asks you quietly. “That you matter to all of us here? It’s simple and plain as that. I promise you- the way that those kids matter to you is the way that you matter to us, and we need you to be okay.”

“I will be,” is all you can offer. “Now, if you’ll leave me be…” you request softly, as much as you don’t want her to go away. But you know that if you don’t ask her to exit the room, everything will finally come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. And with Melissa and her connections, who knows what could happen to Mason. For as much shit as he’s put you through, he’s still your husband. He still saved you from hell all those years ago. You… you still love him. Through good times and bad, right?

The redhead doesn’t want to leave you alone right now- afraid that if she does, something horrible will happen to you- something more horrible than what is now confirmed to her. But you asked her to leave you be for your prep, so she nods silently. You feel a gentle hand squeeze your own again before the warmth of it fades away. You close your eyes again and try to relax into your chair, but a pair of lips just barely brush against your temple, and a soft voice tells you that she will always be there for you whenever you’re ready.

The rest of the day passes by as you simply give into your body’s desire to teach from your chair. You pack your things and quietly make your way out of the building without running into any of your coworkers, by some miracle.

As you pull up to your house, your bright and beautiful and non-assuming home, you breathe out a sigh. The outside looks like a happy couple lives there- decorated with beautiful landscaping and flowers. You allow yourself to reminisce about how life used to be when you were a happy and healthy couple, and for a few minutes you pretend that you are still that happy woman, dreaming about a different life from the rest of your family. But as you open up the front door and see the shattered plates, the smashed guitar, and the angry fist shaped hole in the wall, reality crashes down on you.

With a few pained grunts and groans, you’re able to clean up the wreck that lies in your kitchen- that seems to be where most of your troubles find you these days. And it sucks, because the kitchen used to be your favorite room in the house. Cooking and baking used to be the one thing that would take you from the hellish place on Earth you found yourself in and transport you to a world where everything was okay- even just for a few minutes. You’ve come to hate being in the kitchen.

You settle on the couch with a slice of leftover pizza and a beer, although you then realize that the television remote is not where you usually leave it. So, as you munch on your dinner, an ice pack pressed delicately to your ribs, you allow your mind to wander. 

It’s addictive the minute you let yourself think, the things that I say just might matter to someone. All of this time I’ve been keeping my mind on the running away, and for the first time I think I’d consider the stay.

Your thoughts take you to what had taken place during your prep today. Melissa knows. You know Melissa knows. And she’s still telling you she’ll stand by you. She practically begged you to verbally confirm what she knows, and then to come out of hiding and tell her everything. She promised you that she would be there for you for as long as you would let her. And… and you believe her. You believe that if you told her about your life away from the school and outside of being Miss Y/N, the things that you would tell her would matter to her. And that… that thought becomes addicting.

All of this time, you’ve been thinking about the day where you would finally be able to get away from your husband- the second bank account that you secretly open is finally starting to look like something that you could fall back onto as you begin your new life. You’ve been thinking about just faking your death and running away to another place far, far away from here to get away from Mason. Of course, in doing that, you would have to leave Abbott and the city that has captured your heart from the time that you could walk, but it would be worth it to get away- at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

But now, you’re considering the stay for the first time. Not staying with your husband of course- but staying in Philadelphia. You’re imagining a life where you could maybe… just maybe, still be able to make it here in this city. You have a support system behind you apparently. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you that the Abbott crew would have your back, but after being alone in this world for so long, after being told time and time again that he is the only person who could love someone like you, it takes you by surprise.

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You’re not quite sure when you picked up your phone, as your finger hovers over your redheaded coworkers number. Before you lose your nerve, you call her.

She picks up after just one ring, and she sounds concerned. “Y/N?”

You weren’t really expecting her to pick up, but she did. And you have no idea what to say. You know what you want to say, but you still can’t quite get those words out. So you settle for a, “You matter to me too.”

Her low voice whispers out a, “Are you okay?”

Your shoulders shrug, as if she could see you through the phone call. You don’t answer her question. Instead you say, “It’s simple, and plain, and not much to ask from somebody, but you matter to me too. I promise. You matter to me.”

“Hun,” Melissa breathes quietly. “Hun, you aren’t making sense. Are you okay?”

You just repeat the sentiment again, letting her know how much you care for her. You let her know that your heart loves Abbott.

“Y/N,” the second grade teacher stops your rambling. “Y/N, I need you to tell me what’s happening right now. Do I- Do I need to come over there? Call the police? Are you okay?”

“I-” The dam breaks, and you begin to hiccup sobs out in earnest.

“Hun,” Melissa’s voice is soft, warm. “I- Can you tell me where you are?”

“My house,” you choke out. “I- I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry.”

“Stay where you are,” the redhead tells you. “I’m on my way over.”

Before you can protest, telling her that you don’t want her to see the dark and dismal space that you inhabit, she hangs up.

After threatening your boss, Melissa is given your address, and she speeds her way to your house. She doesn’t even have to knock on the door before you open it and fling yourself at her. Your body tries to tell you how much you shouldn’t be doing this- your heart racing, your ribs on fire. But as you hold onto her, and the tears pour down your face and hit her leather jacket, you can’t find it in you to hold back anymore.

After years of hiding and being afraid of your own shadow, not knowing if it was yours or someone else’s, you’re about to come out of hiding. You’re about to attempt to claw your way out of this hellhole that you call a life. Hopefully, everything will change with the help of Melissa.

Part 2

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[andy-15-07]

Hi, I would love to see a Paulxactress fix where Pedro Pascal is like a father figure to her and Pedro give Paul a hard time.

Irish Charm

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1229 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlist

The Los Angeles sun beat down mercilessly on the set of "The Lost City of Z." Y/n, drenched in sweat, swatted at a pesky mosquito. "Pedro," she groaned, "I swear, these bugs are out to get me."

Pedro, ever the stoic observer, raised an eyebrow. "Embrace the Amazon, mi amor. It's part of the experience."

Y/n rolled her eyes, "Easy for you to say. You're practically one with the jungle."

Pedro chuckled, his deep voice a rumble that always sent a shiver down her spine. "Years of training, chica. You'll get there."

Their banter was a familiar rhythm, a comfortable dance of playful teasing and genuine affection. Y/n had met Pedro on the set of "Kingsman: The Golden Circle," and an instant, unlikely bond had formed. He was older, wiser, a seasoned veteran of the industry. She, a rising star, still finding her footing. He saw something in her – a raw talent, a fierce spirit, and a vulnerability that reminded him of his own younger self.

He became her mentor, her confidante, the closest thing she had to a father figure. He'd offer tough love, honest criticism, and unwavering support. He'd scold her for staying out too late, worry about her dating life, and celebrate every single one of her successes.

"Speaking of experience," Pedro said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I hear you're working with a certain Irish charmer these days."

Y/n blushed, "Oh, Pedro."

"Don't 'Oh, Pedro' me, chica. I've seen those eyes. They sparkle like the goddamn Milky Way."

"He's... nice."

Pedro snorted. "Nice? Paul Mescal is a force of nature. He could charm the birds out of the trees." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Tell me, does he treat you right?"

Y/n hesitated. "He's... good. He's kind, and funny, and incredibly talented."

"Talented, yes. But is he kind to your soul? Does he make you feel safe?"

Y/n smiled. "He does. He makes me feel seen, you know? Like I'm not just an actress, but a person."

Pedro nodded approvingly. "Good. Good. Now, about this 'Normal People'…"

Y/n groaned. "Pedro, no."

"I've seen it. Twice. I'm a fan. But I'm also a concerned friend. I've seen the way he looks at you, chica. That boy is head over heels."

"He's just… nice."

"Nice? He's like a puppy dog, always by your side, those eyes full of wonder. And don't even get me started on the accent." Pedro chuckled. "Sounds like melted butter."

Y/n laughed, "You're impossible."

"Just looking out for you, mi amor. Don't get hurt."

Y/n knew he meant well. Pedro's protectiveness stemmed from a deep-seated love for her. He'd seen the industry chew people up and spit them out, and he wanted to shield her from the worst of it.

A few weeks later, Y/n found herself on the set of her new film, a romantic comedy opposite Paul. The chemistry between them was undeniable, both on and off screen. They spent hours dissecting scenes, their laughter echoing through the soundstage.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Paul invited her to grab dinner. They found a cozy Italian restaurant, the warm glow of the candlelight casting a romantic haze over the room.

"You know," Paul said, taking a sip of his wine, "Pedro keeps talking about you."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "He does?"

"Yeah, always asking how I'm treating his 'little bird'."

Y/n chuckled. "He's so protective."

"He seems like a great guy. A real mentor."

"He is. He's like the older brother I never had."

Paul smiled. "You're lucky to have him."

The evening progressed, the conversation flowing easily. They talked about their childhoods, their dreams, their hopes for the future. As the night deepened, Paul leaned closer, his eyes searching hers.

"Y/n," he began, his voice husky, "I know we've only been working together for a short time, but…"

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for.

"But what, Paul?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He reached across the table, his hand gently brushing against hers. "I think I'm falling for you."

Y/n felt a wave of warmth wash over her. She wanted to say it back, to confess that his words echoed her own feelings. But a flicker of doubt, a ghost of Pedro's warning, crossed her mind.

"Paul," she began, her voice hesitant, "I… I really like you too. But I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of getting hurt. Of getting my heart broken."

Paul's expression softened. "I understand. I don't want to scare you. I just want you to know how I feel."

"I know," she said, her voice catching. "And I appreciate it more than you know."

They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

The next day, Y/n sought out Pedro. She found him on set, deep in conversation with the director.

"Pedro," she said, approaching him cautiously.

He looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "Mi amor. How was dinner?"

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. "It was… nice."

Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Just nice?"

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath, "Paul… he told me how he feels."

Pedro's smile faded. "And?"

"And… I don't know what to do."

Pedro listened patiently, his gaze unwavering. When she finished, he remained silent for a long moment, lost in thought.

"He's a good man, Y/n," he said finally. "A kind, talented man."

"I know."

"But you have to trust your gut. Don't let fear hold you back."

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Remember what I told you, chica?" he said, his voice gentle. "Does he make you feel safe?"

She thought back to the previous night, to the way Paul had looked at her, the way he made her feel seen, cherished. A slow smile spread across her face.

"He does," she whispered.

Pedro smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "Then go for it, mi amor. Go for it all."

With Pedro's blessing, Y/n finally allowed herself to fully embrace her feelings for Paul. Their relationship blossomed, a delicate flower nurtured by trust, respect, and a healthy dose of playful banter.

Pedro, ever the watchful guardian, kept a close eye on their progress. He'd offer subtle advice, a knowing glance, a gentle nudge in the right direction.

One evening, while visiting Y/n and Paul at their apartment, Pedro found himself watching them with a fond smile. They were curled up on the couch, lost in conversation, their laughter filling the room. Paul, ever the charmer, was making Y/n laugh until her sides ached.

"You know," Pedro said, his voice soft, "I think I did alright."

Y/n looked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You think?"

"I knew you two were meant to be," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "Besides," he added with a wink, "I wouldn't want to miss out on all the wedding stories."

Y/n blushed, while Paul grinned. "Don't worry, tío," he said, "you'll be the first to know."

Pedro chuckled, his heart overflowing with pride. He had played his part, nudging them towards happiness, ensuring that his "little bird" found her safe harbor. And as he watched the two of them, their love a radiant beacon in the fading light, he knew that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

[stormysprite]

My first fanfic! I wanted to start out with a fluffy (and maybe a little crack-y?) oneshot featuring the lu boys. Link to the AO3 coming once my account gets approved later this week!

✨Magical Placeholder for Title Until I Figure It Out✨

Warriors stared down the strategy map, rubbing the pebble that represented him between his fingers. He’d battled unlikely odds before, but this was a whole new level of hopeless.

He had to try. For the sake of his brothers, he had to try.

“Captain?” Sky asked, fiddling with his sailcloth. “Are you sure we shouldn’t get the old man?”

“He’s compromised. Always has been for missions like this, he’s just better at hiding it now. We’re certain Hyrule can’t swim?”

“He shrieked when Wild went waist deep into the lake a few months ago,” Four said from Warriors’s other side. “I don’t think anyone in Hyrule’s world knows how to swim.”

That complicated things. Hyrule would be one of the most resistant to their plan, and they couldn’t just throw him in. Warriors considered using Legend to coax Hyrule into the water, but the veteran seemed to have a thing against water. Probably another secret. Legend seemed to have a lot of those.

Warriors rubbed between his brows. He sighed and looked up at the pine trees surrounding their campsite. He’d convinced everyone except Sky and Four—the only Heroes who would accept his desperate plan—to forage or collect firewood elsewhere. That had been an hour ago. They were out of time for finding other solutions.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll have to keep Hyrule in the shallows, then. Four?”

Four grinned, teeth glinting in the sunlight.

“Way ahead of you, Captain.”

Warriors nodded and turned to Sky. The Chosen Hero had already grabbed his gust bellows and gave him a grim nod.

“Good,” Warriors said. “There’s just one other part of our problem to solve.”

He placed his own pebble next to the river on the map and picked up the miniature wolf Sky had carved the other day.

“Not it,” Four and Sky said at the same time.

“I didn’t even—” Warriors turned from the map. Both his brothers had their fingers on their noses. The captain huffed. 

“Fine. I’ll wrestle the wolf. But you both are on laundry duty for this.”

“Small price to pay,” Four said.

“Yeah, I like my fingers right where they are.” Sky drummed his digits on the bellows with an apologetic smile. Warriors shook his head.

“Just get into position. Remember, quick and precise. We can’t afford mistakes.”

Four nodded. Coming from anyone else, Sky’s salute would have been sarcastic, but Warriors knew his fellow knight meant it. They both left, and the operation was on. Warriors took a deep breath, rolled up the map, and got his supplies from his pack.

He crept to the stream near their campsite, past the spot where Four had laid out everyone’s armor under the guise of repairing it later tonight. Good. Nothing would rust this way.

He crouched behind a bush near the shore and laid out his supplies. Three brushes for different hair textures, a pile of rags, a larger pile of fluffy towels, and the largest bottle of soap he’d ever seen. They hadn’t stayed in his world long enough to drag everyone to a bathhouse last week, but at least he’d had time to stock up. He lined up a smaller bottle of conditioner next to the brushes. Far as he knew, he’d be the only one interested in it.

A shout echoed across the forest. Phase One had begun.

Warriors grabbed the soap and squeezed a thick thread into the almost-still water. He wished he had one of Wild’s Korok leaves to stir, but a large stick he found near shore would have to do. He frothed the soap until a thick layer of foam sat on the water. Good thing Sky had offered to build a dam downstream so the soap wouldn’t wash away.

The lavender and eucalyptus soap floated into Warriors’s nose, making him relax. Another shout—no, that was a howl—jerked him into action. Four’s part of the plan must have worked. How the smithy knew what would provoke Twilight into transforming, Warriors had no idea. He didn’t want to know. Plausible deniability in case Twilight got mad. Warriors shuddered and returned to the bush.

Another howl. Footsteps racing.

Closer.

Closer.

Wheezing, Sky tore into the clearing. He spotted Warriors, nodded, and lined up with his back to a tree. Sky pointed his gust bellows at the water. No one approaching the stream would see him.

“Cheatin’ bilge rat!” Wind sprinted into the clearing after Sky, Legend and Hyrule just behind. “You’re shark bai—”

Sky turned on his gust bellows.

Wind screeched and flailed headfirst into the stream. Hyrule tumbled after him. Legend figured out what was going on and activated his pegasus boots, running against the gust. Sky’s bellows blew stronger. Legend lost his footing and splashed into the stream.

Warriors covered his mouth to hold back a snicker.

Three heads popped up from the water. Hyrule looked panicked. Legend looked torn between holding up Hyrule and dragging Sky in with them. Wind looked murderous.

The sailor lunged up to grab Sky’s ankle, but Sky gusted until Wind fell back into the stream.

“You yellow-bellied, lily-livered, octo-brained seagull splat!” Wind yelled, but Warriors could hear him covering up a laugh.

“I have no idea what any of those words mean,” Sky said with a grin and an extra puff of air in Wind’s face.

Wind sucked in a breath, probably to ‘educate’ Sky. Another howl and a high-pitched, unheroic scream cut him off.

“Sky!”

Four tore into view and tossed Wild’s Sheikah Slate to Sky before jumping into the water. Wild burst from the bushes and dove after Four with a splash. Wolfie raced after them, skidding to a stop before the shore. He took a step back and looked around.

Come on, Twilight. Just a little closer.

Four burst above the surface, only for Wild to tackle him deeper into the stream. Warriors had only seen that look on Wild’s face once—right before disintegrating the iron knuckle that had downed Twilight.

Maybe Warriors had miscalculated his plan.

“Wild! Wild, stop—” Four spluttered, treading water while stopping Wild from dragging him to the bottom. “The Slate’s fine. Sky has it, look.”

Sky flinched as Wild turned his glare onto him, but the Chosen Hero waved the Sheikah Slate to prove Four’s point. Grumbling, Wild swam back to the edge and made grabby hands for his prized item.

“Give it.”

Sky held the Slate out of reach, putting it at the base of a tree.

“You can have it back after your bath. The Captain can’t stand our smell anymore.”

Caught in the moment, Warriors stood up from his hiding place to argue how that wasn’t what he’d said—he’d thought it, but hadn’t said it—before realizing he’d blown his cover. Warriors caught Wolfie’s eye. Wolfie bolted.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Warriors lunged for Wolfie and shoved his shapeshifting brother toward the water. Wolfie stumbled, but didn’t fall in.

How was Twilight heavier in this form?

A burst of wind from Sky pounded against Warriors’s back, pushing the wrestling captain and wolf closer to the stream. Wolfie dug in his claws and growled. Warriors pushed against the wretched-smelling mound of dog with all his strength, but Wolfie didn’t budge.

A splash was all the warning he got before five sets of hands shot out of the water, grabbed Wolfie, and pulled him in. Warriors sailed through the air and hit the stream, water and bubbles shooting up his nose. He broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. Eucalyptus burnedthrough his sinuses.

When he could finally see and breathe again, he cackled at the sight in front of him.

Wolfie squirmed as Wild and Legend kept him from swimming to shore. A cloud of mud surrounded the rest of the Heroes, mostly coming from the wolf. Wind scrubbed soap into the fur. Four rubbed Wolfie’s paws, freeing wads of muck jammed between the pads. Hyrule clung to Wolfie’s back and made bubble hats for the wolf. 

Warriors had never seen the mighty beast so undignified.

Wolfie whimpered. A chime sounded and black flecks started to swarm around him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Legend bopped Wolfie on the nose. The black flecks disappeared, and Wolfie growled. Hyrule added a pompom to Wolfie’s bubble hat. “Your smell’s going to attract monsters if you don’t clean up this version of yourself. Honestly, your fur crackles.”

“And it reduces the risk of us getting sick,” Warriors said as he waded toward the group. He shot a dirty look at Sky, dry and giggling on the shore. “Which is the real reason I organized this.”

“Did you have to throw us in?” Wild asked.

Warriors shrugged and rubbed soap into Wild’s hair. If his brothers were going to focus solely on scrubbing Twilight, Warriors could make sure everyone else got clean, too. Wild melted under the touch and almost lost hold of Wolfie.

“We needed to do laundry, too. This hits two ChuChus with one arrow. Besides, would you have taken a bath if I’d asked nicely?”

Wild shook his head, but caught sight of something on shore and grinned. Warriors followed his gaze and felt his eyes grow wide.

Time loomed behind Sky, who hadn’t noticed him yet. Sky squeaked as Time picked him up and hurled him at the other Heroes. All eight of them plunged under, legs, arms, and one tail tangling together. They finally surfaced, Hyrule still using Wolfie as a raft. Everyone piled on Sky to make sure he got as drenched as the rest of them.

“Stop,” Sky said between giggling and failing to push them away. “That—that tickles!”

Which was the worst thing to tell a group of Links, Warriors thought. Chaos and mayhem were vital parts of the Hero’s Spirit. Even Warriors splashed suds on Sky after that comment. After all, Sky had a great laugh.

A shadow blocked out the sun, too sudden and dark to be a cloud. Warriors looked up.

Oh.

Oh, no.

He’d definitely miscalculated.

Time cannonballed straight for them.

Later that night, while they dried off and teased each other over dinner, Warriors admitted he screamed like a little girl. If only because his seven other brothers did the exact same thing. 

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 5 - Rope Burn

Well this took forever! I actualy finished last ight but then I wasn't sure if I hated it or not, so I had to sleep on it. If you see any typos, no you do not.

Wordcount: 9,300

Rating: Teen

Summary: After Twilight reveals some information about his past, Four tries to use it as a learning opportunity for all of them. It does not go as expected.

-

  “There is no way a military leader was that incompetent.”  

  Wild pauses in his story, much to Wind’s frustration, because he really did want to hear the end of it, which he’s about to say, only the vet’s voice raises, a smirk touching the other’s face as he settles down at the fire with the rest of them after coming back from doing rounds. “Sounds about right to me.”  

  “Too competent,” Warriors challenges, dropping his head to thoroughly tousle his hair, “half my men couldn’t do that.” That’s fair, Wind decides, he remembers the captain’s men as all being somewhat... stupid. 

  The champion stares at them, openly astounded. “How,” he begins, glancing between the vet and captain “are your kingdoms still standing? If the leaders of your defenses are less capable than Master I-killed-myself-on-accident-with-my-own-power Kohga?” 

  “Spoilers!” That’s how the story ends? Wild had only just begun to get to the part where he fought Kohga, but now the ending has been well and truly ruined! Although, it seems they’re getting derailed, so it’s quite likely he won’t even get to hear said ending, considering the champion is too busy looking between captain and veteran for answers. 

  The vet just snorts, unknowing of what he’s missed, and of Wind’s ire, and simply crossing his legs and focusing on the fire. “Where do you think I got the title of veteran? I don’t just sit on my fanny all day, champ.” 

  When the champion’s eyes turn to Warriors, the captain just shakes his head. “I have no clue.” It‘s more sigh than anything, as though the captain’s long since given up hopes for competency among his people. “I’d say Impa, but even she can’t hold the country together by herself, so I’m assuming it’s pure dumb luck.” 

  Across camp, Sky, who’d been the first one to say anything after the champion’s insane story, stares. “You’re saying I brought down the knights of Skyloft just so they could devolve into idiotic half-competent protectors of the country and leave kids to be the ones to save the world?” It’s harsh, but it’s fair as well, although not everyone seems to think so. Wind can’t say anything on the matter though because the closest to military groups they have in his world are pirates, and pirates don’t exactly serve the people. 

  The group as a whole gives each other considering looks, although Legend and Warriors are too busy talking with their eyes- Legend raising a brow and Warriors sighing, rolling his own eyes and earning a smirk in answer- to really care about what everyone else thinks. He thinks Legend asked a question, but how either of them can read each other that well, considering how rarely they even interact, he’s not sure.  

  “The knights in my era are half-competent,” Four assures, “easily manipulated by magic, but they’re just people, so I can’t really blame them. They’re good at their work though.” 

  “Lucky,” Legend scoffs. 

  Time also seems confident in the soldiers of his era, but Twilight adds that his own are cowards and pathetic, so it seems they’re split. Wind, Wild, and Hyrule can’t add anything, due to the lack of military forces in their eras, the soldier is in agreement with their farm boys on the idiocy of his own people, and only their first two and the old man seem to have any faith whatsoever in those set to guard their era. He wonders if maybe there was a decline, after one of them, that led to the army of Hyrule falling, but he doesn’t ask, since it’s unlikely they can say for sure anyway. 

  “How often do you interact with knights though?” Sky challenges, glancing between them. Most haven’t been around them often, but those who’ve got only ill to say all scoff, almost simultaneously, which startles them as much as it does the rest of the group. 

  “I live with them,” the captain starts slowly, glancing between Twilight and Legend with a curious half-smile as though he’s actively trying to figure out what on earth could tie them to the people whom they so frequently scorn. “Spent the last five or six years in the army.” 

  The vet’s a bit more hesitant with his answer, staring between them warily, guarded. “My sister is a knight commander, and our family has ties with the army, so I end up around them a lot more than I’d like, even when they aren’t actively hunting me down.” And Wind wants to stop the conversation there and ask about the fact that Legend apparently has a family and also a reason for the army to be up his ass about something, but he doesn’t get a chance because once more, someone else speaks first. 

  “I grew up on a military base,” Twilight snorts, “trust me, soldiers are as dumb as rocks.” 

  And well, Legend having a family isn’t that crazy in comparison to that. 

  Warriors starts, staring at the rancher, blinking slowly as though still trying to process the words of the other. “I’m sorry- you what?” 

  “I thought you grew up in Ordon?” Wild questions, turning to his mentor, confusion on clear display. 

  Yeah, Wind has a feeling that Wild’s story is well and truly over now, but he supposes it’s worth it. Learning something about their rancher is, he supposes, better than hearing the rest of the story the cook had already spoiled the ending too, especially as the limit of their knowledge about the rancher at this point is that he’s from Ordon, used to work as a ranch hand, and is descended from Time and Malon somehow. The fact that he’s a hero goes without saying, but the ranch hand nearly never shares anything about himself, even though he seems to love talking about his hometown and all the people in it, to the point where some of them feel they know the village and its residents already, despite still not having been there yet. 

  Yet, the rancher is grinning as he leans back, the sprig of hylian rice between his teeth bouncing some as he flashes a wolfish grin at them. “Well, yeah, sort of.” 

  “Sort of?” Time nudges his pup, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their leader isn’t keen on them being cryptic with him, even though he frequently does so himself. The hypocrite. “Explain.” 

  The rancher chuckles, a nervous little thing, but obediently pulls himself up, resting his weight over his knees as he looks around the fire at all of them, eyes glinting slightly. “Well, y’see, I a’tually grew up in a citadel on the edge of Hyrule.” 

  Warriors jaw drops so fast. “Holy Hylia you’re a military brat.” 

  He can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. Yes, objectively, it’s funny to see Warriors so shocked, but from an outsider's perspective it is so, so much funnier because he’s met Warriors parents and sisters, and he’s seen for himself the proof that the captain is anything but the sissy city boy Twilight likes to accuse him of being. No, the captain was born in Hebra, so far out from cities that he thought Kakariko was huge. Meanwhile, it turns out their “country boy” actually grew up in a military base? Not the country? It turns out Twilight is the military brat and Warriors was the hill-billy? How the turn tables have turned! 

  The rest of the heroes stare at him, confused, but the captain just rolls blue eyes, pinching the tip of his ear to make him shut up. “Ignore him.” 

  Twilight’s dark gaze flicks between them, but apparently, he determines to listen to the captain for once. “Right, so, my dad was a’tually a knight from some family o’ knights or summat, an’ my mom comes from desert folk, so I grew up on the border studyin’ with other knights’ kids to take on our fathers’ duties ’n protect Hyrule one day.” 

  The stares are very, very evident by now, although Legend’s in particular is strangely intense, studying the other with his mouth half open like he’s got a question about the rancher’s words.  

 Broad shoulders shrug, a bit awkward as the rancher grins at them. “My friends growin’ up were dumber’n rocks, an’ every knight I’ve met since is the same, so yeah. Knights ‘re stupid.” 

  “Just a question,” and it seems the vet decided to actually ask whatever’s in his head, “but your knight family, they Hyrulian Knights?” 

  “Yeah?” 

  The vet nods, slowly, lips pursed like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Oh.” 

 “Why?” 

  A shake of pink hair, eyes turning back to the fire. “Same hat is all.” 

  “You too?” 

  “Born and raised, but never followed. Your folks drag you to Snowpeak every winter too?” 

  The rancher shakes his head. “Naw, yeti’s took the place over some time ago. I’d heard it used to be ours though, never thought much of it though. You’ve been?” 

 “Yeah.” 

  “Hold up,” Watrriors interrupts the, frankly unexpected, moment between their rancher and vet to stare between both of them “You’re both military brats, you both hate soldiers, and you both neglected to say anything until freaking now? Also, Hyrulian Knights? You’re talking about the fabled family that sealed back Ganon here, right? Produced the Savior of Labrynna, may or may not be the family of the Hero of Time?” That has their old man looking up, startled, for a moment. It’s only a moment though, because that one wide eye promptly shoots down to Twilight and then, as though on second thought, Legend too, Time’s stare growing ever more startled and shaken, ears twitching like they used too when he was particularly confused or trying to work something out in his head. 

  Legend snorts. “Yes.” 

  “Heads up,” Hyrule chuckles, “Legend is the Hero of Labrynna, so keep your hero worship at a minimum there, Wars.” 

  He thinks that the captain’s face flickers through all five stages of grief for a moment there before the man gets up and simply...walks away, leaving Hyrule rocking in his seat from laughter and Sky looking thoroughly befuddled. “Is he okay?” 

  “Big hero worship,” Wind says, like the snitch he is. He’s no traitor in most senses, but if he can give Warriors a little grief, tease him a bit, he will. He’s fine with sharing some of the things he’d learned under the care of the other. “Apparently he views that guy like I did with Time, wanted to be like him and everything.” 

  Rather than flush or falter, Legend’s lemon-sucking face gets even more pronounced. “Why?” 

  “Because apparently the stories all say you were such an inspiring leader to Labrynna’s army that soldiers and generals emulated both your tactics and speeches for decades after Ganon’s defeat.” It’s amazing to watch the vet’s entire world-view shatter at the words, the man apparently not sure if he should look off towards their captain who’s flopped on his bedroll to contemplate his whole life all over again or down at the ground to contemplate his own. Like the problem child he usually chooses not to be, Wind decides to make it worse. “His Hyrule considers you the greatest knight that ever lived.” 

  Ringed hands bury in pink hair, violet eyes blowing wide as the other hunches over, mind clearly blown. Beside the vet, Twilight gently (and by gently, Wind means very cautiously) claps his brother’s back, his own face a bit tense. 

 Wind is loving watching this. This is better than listening to Wild explain his exploits against the Yiga! Although, he’s also curious. “Did you really grow up in a citadel, Twi?” 

  “Yeah,” a brief nod, dark eyes lingering on their malfunctioning veteran, “I only traveled up Ordon way around your age, when the citadel fell.” 

  Okay, not touching that bomb. “What was it like?” 

  His question earns a grin. “What you’d expect, I s’pose. We were monsters as kids, an’ I s’pose growin’ up military gave us a twisted view of the world. Or, rather, of what was normal any’ays.” 

  “Like how?” Sky, who grew up in a knight’s academy and seems entirely normal by what standards Wind has, asks. 

  “Our main games usually centered around pretendin’ to be knights an’ capturin’ each other or doin’ what we saw our dads doin’ most of the time.” 

  “Like?” Time prods again. 

 Twilight grins, and then falters, looking suddenly alarmed as he glances over the rest of them. “Okay, in hindsight, it was messed up.”   

  Now he really wants to know. “What did you do?”  

  The others all stare; those who aren’t, like Warriors and Legend, currently questioning their existence. Their concern is steadily growing the more Twilight falters and flushes, and Wind is now very much dying to know what sort of shenanigans the rancher used to get up to as a kid. Whatever it was, it can’t be worse than what Time used to put him through during the war, although the idea of their sweet and warm rancher being related to the gremlin he remembers from back then is now not so insane a concept anymore. 

  “Alright,” The (apparently not from Ordon) Ordonian starts at last, and Wind’s not sure if the rancher is aware that he’s moved his hand up to be toying with the vet’s hair now, a nervous sort of stroking, but the vet hasn’t snapped at him for it yet, although maybe that’s because he’s just too lost in his own head to notice, “don’t judge.” 

  “I will reserve my judgement,” Four answers, slowly, “but no promises.” 

  “I grew up on the edge of the desert, an’ most of what our folks did was hunt Gerudo thieves an’ protect traders in an’ outta the desert.” Which makes sense, but he feels like Twilight’s getting at something less than what his parents did for a living. “Nowadays, my hairs a fair bit darker, but it was purdy red back then an’ the other kids kind of figured it meant that when we played, I had to be the evil Gerudo thief, since, y’know, red hair.” 

  Ah, racism in children, now Wind sees it. Not what he was hoping for but he’s not sure what he was expecting. 

  “So,” Twilight clears his throat awkwardly, “when we played, I’d be the bad guy an’ they’d chase me down and ‘capture’ me. In hindsight, it probably was less play an’ more bullyin’ since I wasn’t too well liked at first an’ they weren’t very nice about it.” 

  “But?” Sky asks, maybe too hopefully. 

  “But,” the rancher accepts, because apparently there's something good in this after all, or at least something that makes the man smile, “part of the ‘game’ involved them tryin’ to tie me up. Unfortunately for them, I got mighty good at escapin’ bein’ tied up. I think I must’ve impressed ‘em, because they started makin’ a game of if I could escape various crazy things, an’ sometimes would ask me to help ‘em tie each other up so they could try a hand at it too.” Sharp teeth glint in a fond smile. “Got a reputation for bein’ slippery as a snake and sly as a fox, an’ t’others all started treatin’ me like some sorta genius. We became friends awful fast after.” 

  An awkward silence settles over camp after that, the rancher’s words sinking in and the rest of them processing what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Legend who breaks it, lifting his head from his own hands, apparently having decided to shelf whatever feelings he’s having, but also apparently missing the hand still tangled in his hair. “So, in other words, you earned the respect of your bullies and made their bullying into what sounds like a perfectly normal childhood game.” 

  “What sort of a childhood did you have again?” Sky deadpans. “Didn’t you start adventuring at like, eight?” 

  “And?” The vet returns, looking actually, genuinely confused as to what that has to do with anything. 

  Their chosen hero sighs, shaking his head, apparently already giving up on trying to explain the flaw in the vet’s logic. Honestly, Wind can’t see it, whatever it is, but he’s getting the impression that kids on Skyloft and kids in Hyrule have very, very different experiences.  

- 

  It’s about a week later that someone brings it up again, and surprisingly, it’s Four. 

  They’re sitting around the main room of the smithy’s house, keeping warm after spending the last day out in the middle of a strange mix of fog and rain while hunting monsters. The smithy’s parents have been very welcoming towards their guests, and all of them are savoring the chance to fully relax for the first time in a good while. Well, most of them, Legend and Hyrule don’t seem particularly capable of fully relaxing, so Four’s mother has roped them into helping her in the little garden out back, which seems to be quite to the vet’s tastes and, while foreign to Hyrule, a new experience the traveler doesn't seem keen on passing up. 

  That leaves the rest of them free in the otherwise empty house, left to their own devices while the smithy’s father attends to his work at the castle. Twilight is trying (and failing) to teach Warriors how to play chess, and Wind and Wild are busy playing with Four’s cat, Tongs, when the smithy suddenly walks into the room again after coming downstairs and addresses the rancher. “Do you think you could still escape being tied up?” 

  Time, who was sitting on the couch, looking halfway towards dozing off, suddenly starts awake again and stares, as do the rest of them. 

  “Pardon?” The rancher asks, sighing in defeat as Warriors knocks all the pieces off the chess board with an agitated scowl, signifying his disinterest in continuing to try and learn the “stupid” game. 

  “The game you mentioned,” Four reminds them, crossing the room to perch on the couch arm closest to the rancher, although why he doesn’t just sit on the couch, Wind’s not sure. “You said your friends were really impressed by your ability to escape all the time. Do you think you could still do that?” 

  Twilight shrugs, scooping up the fallen chess pieces to put back in their box, all while Warriors glares at one of the rooks like it’s personally offended him. Wind wasn’t watching close enough to know if it had or not. “I mean, I might, haven’t tried in a while. Why?” 

  The smithy kicks his feet, well off the floor, and frowns, a thoughtful frown like he’s slowly piecing his words together. “I was curious. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, and I wanted to know if you’d be willing to show us so I could get better.” 

  “And why do you need to get better at escaping being tied up?” The captain interjects, tossing the white rook into the box with a twitch of a frown. 

  “So sure you want to ask that?” Sky snorts, moseying in from the kitchen where Four’s mother had given them free access to make tea and grab food. The face the captain makes at him is scandalized but their chosen hero just slurps his tea, staring over the rim of his cup with raised brows. 

  Wind doesn’t get the joke. He’s not sure if he wants to. 

  Four huffs, slightly red in the cheeks, but presses on. “During my adventure, I made...some mistakes. It resulted in my capture, and I couldn’t exactly escape. I don’t want that to happen again.” It’s a simple enough answer, glazing over anything and everything other than the smithy getting captured, but it still raises questions, although not the ones the smithy was likely trying to avoid. 

  “I thought you were a knight?” Warriors picks up the queen piece, not dropping it yet but not staring at it either, instead focusing his narrowed eyes on their smithy. “All soldiers are trained on what to do in the case of capture, torture, and questioning. Did you not recieve that training?” 

  It’s Twilight’s turn to shift about to stare at the captain. “How would they train that sort of thing?” 

  The captain’s face screws up, “Am I the only one who was taught this? Sky,” the man drops the queen and it goes rolling across the table, “did you or did you not receive-” 

  “No,” the chosen hero doesn’t even wait for the other to finish. “Who on earth would even interrogate us? Skyloftian knights fight monsters, not men.” A long sip follows the words before Sky frowns and turns to look down at the seated soldier. “Do they seriously teach you about torture?” 

  “Yes?” Warriors glances around, but all of them look back at him with confusion. “All common soldiers learn this? You have to in order to progress through the ranks?” 

  “Not ringing a bell,” Time deadpans, staring at the captain with both eyes. 

  Warriors blinks, like the idea that his experience with knighthood not being universal is, in fact, a surprise to him. Wind can’t blame him though, considering based off of what he knows about the other, Warriors had gone through most of his experiences beside dozens of other young men, including his own childhood friends, in order to reach the rank he was at before the war started and he’d been suddenly promoted to captain. 

  “Well,” Four shifts, crossing his legs, “that’s a can of worms to be addressed later, but back to my question: Twilight, can you teach me escape tricks?” 

  “Correction,” Time sits up and turns around, eyes lingering on the captain a moment more before turning on his pup, “Twilight, Warriors, would both of you two be willing to help the rest of us learn escape methods and-” a vague hand motion is made at the soldier, “-whatever sort of training you received that all the rest of the knights here haven’t.” 

  The request seems to make the captain extremely uncomfortable and Wind doesn't miss the way royal blue eyes dart to him, hesitant. “Not the torture part.” 

  “What does that entail?” Sky asks, stare sharp and heavy in ways the man usually never is. 

  “Doesn’t matter,” Warriors is already moving to stand, leaving Twilight to clean up the rest of their game by himself. “I’m not teaching that to kids.” 

 “I am not a child!” It feels like the thousandth time he’s said that, but the look in the captain’s eyes.... yeah, he’ll let the man have this one. He's not sure he wants to see what it is that Warriors is trying to protect them from, especially after he saw everything that happened to the man during the war. 

  - 

  They have to recruit Legend and Hyrule from the garden, which Four does, and in the meantime Wind produces a length of rope for them to use for the exercise. The captain and Twilight are speaking in hushed whispers in the corner when Four returns with the others, and Legend shoots them a curious look as he heads over to where Wind is uncoiling all the rope he had in his bag. 

  “What’s going on?” 

  “Training exercise.” He answers, handing off the rope to the vet, who starts slightly at the contact but then helps him in re-coiling the loose chord.  

  “Why is the captain so tense?” 

  Those words make him look up, staring for a moment. Twilight seems perfectly at ease, but their soldier’s shoulders are tense, jaw set in a way he usually only has during a battle or shortly after one. Even the captain’s hands are still; devoid of their typical tremor, and if that’s not a sign to make him worry, he’s not sure what is. That said, he’s a bit surprised Legend had picked up on that. “I think he’s got bad memories of doing this before, he was pretty firm with Time about what he was and wasn’t willing to teach us.” 

  “Which is?” 

  “What to do if you’re captured or otherwise held against your will,” Time seems to materialize out of nowhere to answer the question, making Legend start slightly and scowl at the man. “Apparently most knights are trained to handle it, and I think you boys could benefit from having that knowledge too.” 

  “Yeah,” Legend snips, “because the shadow is totally gonna tie us to a chair and demand to know all our secrets.” 

  The conversation in the corner breaks off, Warriors running both hands through his hair in an agitated way while Twilight moves over to join the rest of them. “Maybe not, but the shadow ain’t the only threat out there, vet. You know that.” 

  The point is conceded, and the rest of them move in close, following their rancher’s example and watching as the man settles down into a kitchen chair Four had provided for their use. Twilight is not the one to start though, instead \turning his own attention, and thus the others do as well, towards the captain, who’s looking a little less like his normal self. It takes a moment, but Wind finally decides it’s the mess the man’s hair is in, that and the way all his emotions seem to have been wiped away cleanly as he stalks towards where the rancher is sitting.  

 “Twilight has agreed to show you all how to handle this, meanwhile, as I have the training, I will be instructing.” His breathing is off. “In some cases- most actually, the likelihood of being captured and watched by a large group is rare. Most of you don’t look like a major threat and few of you have a rank worth exploiting by your enemies, so your chances of being captured and tortured are low. The chances of questioning is also low, although possible, but considering how well you all keep your own secrets, I don’t think I have to teach you how to keep your mouths shut.” There’s the slightest quirk of a smile at that, and a few smile back. 

  Wind doesn’t. Wind is too busy watching the way too-steady hands reach out to take the rope Legend is still holding. 

  “I don’t need to teach you all how to watch the enemy, or how to be cautious, sneaky, how to move about without being seen- you know these things already.” The rope snaps in what he knows is a purposeful motion by the soldier to unsettle them, and that, if anything, is assurance that Warriors is still in there, and not entirely overwhelmed. Come to think of it, he may even be purposefully throwing them off with his behavior and appearance in order to better convey what it’s like to be held captive by a stranger. The thought actually makes him start and stare, watching closely. The hand thing can’t be faked, so maybe there’s some truth to the terrifying mask the captain is pulling; cold, harsh, calculating and seeking a reaction, but he genuinely hopes most of it really is just put on. “But how do you escape binds of different kinds? How do you quickly turn the tables to take yourself from prisoner to captor?” A twist of the hands and Warriors has made knot dangerously close to a noose. “Let’s try that, shall we?” 

  At his side, Legend tenses, eyes fixed on the captain as the man wraps the noose quickly around one of Twilight’s wrists, the rancher allowing himself to be manipulated as needed for the time being while Warriors twists and pulls and ties the rope this way and that. It's genuinely impressive, the kinds of knots and the effort put into them, far more than most enemies are likely to bother using, but the man still uses them, calling their attention to the different kinds and showing how some give way with a tug and others tighten, informing them that feeling the sort of knot used can be a huge step in escaping it, as it provides clues on how to manipulate your bindings to your own will. 

  Once the captain is finished, Twilight’s wrists and ankles are both quite effectively restrained, the rancher sitting quietly as he allows the rest of them to look over the bonds and Warriors to explain further about why certain knots are used and which ones to be on the lookout for. They are allowed to touch, encouraged even, to see how the rope feels, because- as the captain instructs them, clipped and cold- the likelihood of being granted sight is very low indeed when held captive. 

  “Everyone got all that?” At their nods, Warriors turns to Twilight. “Go nuts.” 

  Watching Twilight escape is very nearly as interesting as watching him get tied up. The rancher doesn’t explain nearly anything at all, focusing instead on getting out, but Warriors fills the blanks, pointing out that shifting, tugging and rolling your limbs can help loosen most bonds, even if it does tend to tighten the knots. “You don’t want to untie each knot, just get out of them. Most escapes need to be quick so as to actually be able to get out, but some circumstances give you time enough to pick over the knots later if you need the rope for something else. Getting a read on your situation at all times is crucial, but you have to rely on your own judgement much of the time in order to know what skills to employ and what to set aside.” 

  By the time the man is done speaking, Twilight is springing up out of the chair and making a grab at the captain. Almost without breathing, Warriors catches the other in a headlock. It's like watching a snake strike, one moment it looks like Twilight has him, and the next, the rancher is doubled over with their captain’s arms around his neck. 

  “Good try.” 

  Twi grins. “Woudla had’ja if I’d had time to slip my feet free.” 

  “Or if I’d been paying less attention,” the captain smiles, but it’s cold, thin, and very much not like their brother. The man’s hands let loose the other, leaving Twilight free to tug loose his feet while he turns back to the rest of them. “A key point is to watch for opening at all times. If your enemy turns their back or drops their guard, they give you a chance to over-power, injure, or kill them.” It’s said too coldly, too clinically, as though Warriors isn’t even talking about a life at all. He's beginning to see why the man spoke about this sort of training like he did; Warriors will be dumbing it down for them, making it something they can process, but with soldiers, commanders who didn’t give a shit about the innocence of their students, he can only imagine how this sort of thing would have been, especially paired with the knowledge that Warriors had also withstood training for torture and interrogation, so the mental strain would have been far worse then. 

  Honestly, maybe it’s not an act. Maybe Warriors is just used to shutting his emotions off when it comes to issues like this. 

  “Any questions?” 

 “Yeah,” it’s a new voice, one he doesn't know yet, which speaks, and it has all the heroes turning about abruptly at the sound of it, except the captain, who seems unsurprised, unlike them, to see Four’s father standing in the doorway “What on earth is going on here?” 

  As though of one mind, they all turn on the smithy. 

  “Training?” 

  “What kind?” The man leans in the door, one brow raised. He doesn’t look upset, maybe bemused, but Wind still feels Legend draw up stiff beside him. 

  “Escape training, sir,” Warriors clips, stepping forwards to address the man, “your son tells me he hasn't had a chance to undergo such training previously.” 

  “No.” It’s a very loaded word, “he hasn’t.” Guarded, wary, maybe even pained. Wind’s not sure, but he supposes maybe Four’s father doesn’t like the idea of his son undergoing whatever this training entails. 

  The captain doesn’t let the other knight’s tone bother him though. “All due respect sir, he requested that the Hero of Twilight and I instruct him, and the rest, in order that he might have some knowledge of what to do in the case of capture, sir.” Oh, Warriors is falling into soldier mode for real now. Shit. 

  Sir Smith notices too, apparently, face softening some as he looks at the younger soldier. “As ease, captain.” 

  Warriors does not relax in the slightest. 

  “Well,” their smithy’s father turns to look over them and the room in general, “I suppose it’s good knowledge to have, and about time you had it. Is there anything I can do to assist?” 

The offer is accepted eagerly by their smithy, and while Warriors still looks somewhat tense, Wind’s quite sure it’s the nature of the training and not the man offering to help with it. No, the captain and this world’s army commander had got on like a housefire last night, and he knows Warriors likes the man. It’s fine, his brother is just uncomfortable and thus falling into familiar patterns and behaviors in order to not betray that. Given time after, and Warriors will slowly drop those and return to his normal self once he’s ready. He’ll be okay. 

 “Escapin’ is like pretty boy said,” Twilight tells them, standing up again now that he’s free, “it’s a matter of gettin’ the ropes loose enough t’slip out. Amateurs tend to go too loose, an’ they keep it quick an’ easy. ‘pparently soldiers cover all the bases though.” The last part is added with a snort and a light nudge at their captain. 

  Time nods, slowly. “Four minutes and seventeen seconds. Quite impressive, pup.” 

  The words have the rancher beaming. 

  “Right,” Warriors plows ahead, ignoring the moment and looking over each of them. “Legend, you said you’d been trained, how about you show the rest how a smaller individual can handle this?”  

  The vet glares at the implications but doesn’t say anything. It’s fact that most of them aren’t nearly as big as Twilight and, considering few of them possess his brute strength either, having a few examples will probably give them more to work off of in the long run. Still, there’s something wary about the way the vet approaches the chair, hands already fisted as he stands in front of it, rather than deliberately sitting as the rancher had done. 

 “Commander,” Warriors turns over to Four’s father (he’s introduced himself as Leon, right?) and motions to the vet. “I believe you have more experience than I.” 

  The elder soldier nods, in one motion both conveying respect and also submitting himself to the command of the younger soldier for the time being, which Wind thinks is very grand of him considering it’s the older man’s own house they’re in, and his son they’re teaching. Then again though, Four had said that his dad is the sort of person who isn’t afraid to let a younger person take the lead if they know what they’re doing. 

  He wonders how Four knows that to be able to say it so confidently. What on earth does he get up to on his own? 

  A question for later, he guesses. Right now, it’s time to pay attention, because even if he hopes to grow as big as Twilight, Legend and he are pretty close in size now, so this will be more useful for him than watching the rancher. 

  Unlike Twilight, Legend doesn’t go easily, making Leon actually have to fight against him in order to continue. That, apparently, it is good though, as Warriors makes it a teaching point, “Generally speaking,” one large hand catches the vet’s dominant one, “you don’t want to let the enemy tie you down in the first place. Honor is all well and good, but when it comes to surviving, no one’s blaming you for fighting dirty.” Something Legend is notorious for. “Watch how the vet handles this, then we’ll discuss after. Sir Leon-” that is the right name then, great! “-will probably approach it differently than I do as well, so be aware that all captors are not the same.” 

  And the smithy’s father definitely doesn’t handle things the way Warriors did, nor does Legend. Where Twilight had let Warriors shift and move him as needed, Legend fights, and where Warriors had given little vocal cues to his “prisoner” and guided his motions carefully, well aware that a wrong move from the rancher at close proximity could do damage, Leon isn’t nearly as careful, instead grabbing, holding, and forcing the vet’s arms behind his back before slinging a rope around them with all the speed of a sailor in a storm. Also, unlike Warriors, Leon doesn’t use a variety of knots, rather keeping it quick and tight. 

  “He’s got thin wrists, so a tighter bind is needed. Some tie it tight enough to harm, but that’s not the goal here. Know it happens though.” The elder soldier tells them, yanking back on the vet who makes to push away. He doesn’t try to force the vet into the chair, instead catching the younger by the collar while his free hand works, hissing, “stay still, you wriggly thing!” 

  Wind’s not sure what exactly about the situation is wrong, but he swears he hears the vet’s breath catch, stutter, and then with a truly terrific show of strength, Legend rips himself free of the man’s hold, kicking back against the knight and propelling himself forwards hard enough that his collar slips free from the man’s hands and the vet can stumble very quickly away. Rather than stage an “attack” though, the hero just spins about, and the whole room freezes. 

  Legend’s stance is too tightly wound, breath too sharp, too harsh, but most obvious is the utter and complete terror shining in blown out violet eyes.  

  “Shit,” Warriors is moving before any of them have a clue what to do, and all aggression, put on though it was, immediately disappears from Leon’s own stance as both knights recognize what Wind himself has as well. He doesn't know how, and he doesn’t know why, but something about the situation has acted as enough to trigger the vet into some sort of panic, and what to them is a training exercise, has become, to his mind, very, very real. 

  “Lad-” Leon’s motion towards the vet earns a start back, one that is made even worse when Four jumps up from where he’d been watching. Wind can’t imagine why the sight of Four, of all of the people in the room, would make Legend stumble so far back that he falls flat on his ass, but it happens. It happens and none of them, especially the smithy, miss it. 

  “Vet?” They’re all worried, and several of them step forwards, reaching out, ready to help, wanting to help, only for both Hyrule and Wild to grab those closest to them and pull them back, something Wind does himself, catching ahold of the smithy. The last thing the vet needs is people crowding in and leaving him no space to breathe. Being surrounded when you’re vulnerable is bad, very bad, and if watching out for Mask and watching the captain taught him anything, it’s that letting an experienced adult handle it and keeping everyone else away is the best course of action. 

  “Is he-” again, Leon’s voice is cut off, this time though by a strangled sound from the vet. 

  “Leon,” and it’s the first time that the soldier’s voice has dropped titles to use anything else, “leave.” 

  “Excuse me?” Four hisses, but that also seems to have a very negative effect, one that has the captain turning, slowly, voice low and soft but cold enough to freeze.  

 “You too, smithy.” 

  Whatever is about to be said in return is cut off by Leon hefting his son over his shoulder and quickly leaving the room, although both he and Four look after the others even as they exit the door. If the situation were any different, Wind thinks he might have laughed at Four’s easy acceptance of being carried like a potato sack by his father, but right now dealing with the vet takes precedence. Luckily for all at hand, even if Warriors isn’t the most qualified to run a training simulation, there’s no one better at handing panic attacks. 

  Despite being downed, Legend’s still managed to shift enough that the ropes Leon was working to be decently tight have been mostly ripped off, although they’ve left a nasty burn across the hero’s skin, one that’s bleeding slightly in the worst areas along the inside of his wrists. No one stops him freeing himself though, and while the performance is definitely over, there’s also a part of all of them that notes how quickly Legend pulls himself free, the sailor even hears Time whisper a soft “two minutes, fourteen seconds” to himself, slightly awed. 

  “Hey,” Warriors’ voice has lost every amount of edge, ice, or stiffness as he settles down in front of their felled brother, now as full of warmth as if he’s back on the field, talking Mask out of his own head after the younger hero’s namesake was put away again. “You with me?” 

  Ragged breathing would indicate that no, Legend is not. He’s very much not, just staring after the door where Four and his father had disappeared, eyes still wide and breath too shallow. 

  The captain reaches out; slow, deliberate motions, easy to track as he reaches for the other hero. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe. We were training, but it’s over. There is no threat here.” 

  The vet flinches away from the hand, inches from his arm, back slamming against a cabinet and making whatever’s inside clatter loudly, which just sees to further unsettled the shaken hero, who jumps at the sound, whipping his head around to look back, only to flick unseeing eyes back towards the captain. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter, using his lifted hand to slowly push shaggy hair out of where it’d been over his eyes for the last while, messy and just slightly wavy at the ends, like he’s not had time to straighten it in a while. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Warriors, you in there, Link?” 

  Violet eyes flicker across the older man’s face, and this time, when Warriors reaches out, Legend doesn’t start away again, although he watches the hand reaching for him like it’ll produce a knife at any second. Luckily for all, the captain’s not capable of that sort of a trick, and all his hand does is catch one of Legend’s own, not by the wrist as Leon had done, but gently catching fingers in his own and guiding them towards himself, pulling the vet’s hand to settle over his chest, eyes locking with the other’s as he breathes a long, purposeful, breath. 

 Just like Mask used to, Legend mimics the action, although his own breath catches some. It doesn’t stop the captain from trying again though, and slowly, steadily, Legend’s breathing evens out again, clarity returning to his eyes like stars coming out at dusk. 

  “There you are,” their brother breathes, soft and warm and gentle and everything that eases tension and doesn’t spark it further, “keep breathing, you’re okay.” 

 Just because he says it though, doesn't mean it works, because the next breath that escapes their brother sounds more like a strangled sob. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter. “You’re okay. It’s alright,” the hand that lifts is flinched back from, so the captain drops it again, resting it only over the hand still pressed to his own chest. “Keep breathing- there we go. You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

 The dart of dark eyes to the door betrays that Legend doesn’t believe him for a moment, but the vet shudders only a bit, focusing on Warriors again as he pulls away from the cabinets, although not so much to be closer to the captain as to not longer be shrinking away. It’s a sign of some recognition though, which is far better than nothing, and apparently a cue for the soldier to find out what is going on. 

  “That escalated a bit quick, wanna tell me what went wrong?” 

  Legend opens his mouth to answer, but a hitching breath is all that comes out, face twisting and screwing up again enough to warn that a repeat is very much in the cards. 

  Warriors counters quickly. “Was it the ropes? Too tight? Too many people?” He keeps the questions far enough apart to give time for a signal one way or another, but Legend doesn't do much more than force shaking breathes out as his hands reach to tangle in his wild hair. His hat fell off in the scuffle, and currently lies at Time’s feet. “Was Leon too-” 

  The strangled sound at the man’s name cuts Warriors off, and recognition shines in blue eyes. 

  “Leon.” Warriors repeats. 

  Legend’s eyes squeeze closed; face pinched up and shattered. 

  The soldier sighs. “Can I touch you?” 

  “No.” The fact that it’s verbalized is a huge step, and Wind sighs a breath of relief. 

  Warriors, likewise, accepts the boundary, shifting back a bit to grant their vet more space, but not so much as to seem like he’s leaving. “Okay, this is related to Leon. Was it how he handled you?” 

  Nothing. 

  “Was it something one of us said?” 

  A hitch in the vet’s breath, the captain opens his mouth to try again, to press, but Legend answers aloud again this time, voice a wreck. “I- he-” a desperate gasp for air as ringed fingers tug at messy hair, “he’s sounds-”  

  No doubt recognizing Mask’s same struggle with words in the other, Warriors offers his own, soft and quiet, but not yet a whisper. “Did he sound like someone you know?” 

  A nod. A fervent, desperate, nod as violet eyes squeeze shut again. “Sorry...” 

  Hearing the vet apologize has never sounded like such an awful thing. He hates it. 

  The captain clearly does too, but he says nothing to that effect, although the brief flick of his ears and flash of his eyes says it for him. “It’s not your fault. It happens to the best of us.” 

 A scoff. Yeah, Legend’s still in there. 

  Warriors presses on. “No really, it does. It sucks, but it happens.” 

  Dark eyes peek open, fixing on the captain. 

  “Yes, even with me.” The smile there is pained, strained, but real, despite all, and the flick down of the vet’s eyes to still outheld hands prompts the captain to reach out once more. “Would you like me to touch now?”  

 There’s a pause, nothing said, and nothing done, just a stillness as Legend considers the offer. He’s wary about touch even on good days, but usually only when it’s expressly offered or pointed out. When no one says anything, it’s usually met with acceptance as long as it’s not demeaning in any way.  

  As though catching onto a similar train of thought, Warriors changes his offer. “I could lend you my scarf?” 

  A glare. Okay, rude, it’s not that demeaning! Wind likes the scarf! Mask adored the scarf! Enough to throw fits when it wasn't his turn with it! Legend doesn’t have to want it, but there’s no need to make faces like that! It earns a laugh from their captain though, eyes creasing the way they rarely do, and only when he really means it, hand falling to rest gently on the foot of the other. Legend doesn’t shake him off, just stares, then lifts his gaze back up to search the captain’s face again. 

  Warriors meets it, smile fading back to the sad one again. 

 The vet’s gaze drops, arms falling to wrap around himself rather than digging his fingers into his scalp. “He looks-” a breath, harsh and strained, angry as it whishes between clenched teeth, brows drawing low with inward turned frustration, “the- our-” 

  “He looks like someone you know?” At yet another, hesitant, nod, Warriors presses further. “Someone who hurt you? Maybe someone you used to trust?” 

  A sigh. A slow nod before the vet’s head drops to rest against his raised knees. He's still shaking. 

  It’s clear as day that Warriors wants nothing more than to wrap an arm around their brother, pull hm close and assure, but he doesn’t. No, the captain respects the established boundary and doesn’t move any closer, hand just resting on one ankle as he crouches in front of their brother. “I get that.” his voice is softer now, bittersweet, “it sucks, I know. There's someone you trust and then you can’t trust them anymore, and it’s hard, especially when you meet someone who reminds you of them.” 

  Shit. Wind knows he shouldn’t, knows both he and Time know better, but neither can help it as they turn their focus on the captain, wary and watching. That is never a good subject to talk about, but the fact that Warriors is the one broaching it for the first time in forever is frankly shocking. 

  “You too?” Legend’s trying to pass off a tired smile of his own, but it just looks like he’s trying not to cry. 

 The captain nods, lifting his hand (definitely noticing how Legend’s breath catches at the loss of contact) and instead turning to lean his own back against the china cabinet, settling in beside their shaken brother, eyes falling closed in what’s both an open sign of trust, but also an obvious bid to ignore the sharp stares of both his boys on him. “Yeah, me too. It sucks, doesn’t it?” 

 “Sounds just like him,” Legend says, the first full sentence since he’d gone down, and Wind doesn't miss the way the other hero leans a bit closer into the captain’s space, although he doesn't touch him. “Looks like ‘im too.” 

  Blue eyes open again, turning past all their curious and worried ones to watch the vet, warm and gentle, that same look that he’d turn on Mask, and Wind doesn't doubt it was turned on him too, when Warriors thought they weren't looking. 

  The vet shudders, steeling himself up again, walls visibly reconstructing before their eyes. “He used to visit, when I was small. I saw him like a grandfather-” and they crumble again, the vet blinking violently, voice small. “He has granddaughters my age.” 

  “What happened?” Wind doesn’t mean to let the words slip, but they do. 

  Legend’s head hits the cabinet doors. “Corrupted.” 

 The captain nods. He knows. Wind knows that he knows. “I’m sorry.” 

  “He sounded just like him.” 

  “I know,” it’s a hysterical sort of laughter that escapes the older hero this time, “trust me, I get it. Every time I hear an Ordon accent, any time someone suggests playing chess,” the captain’s eyes roll upwards, and Wind’s kind of shocked when he realizes there’s tears there. “It sucks. Gods it sucks, but you live with it. I wish I could say it gets better, but I’m not there yet.” 

  Pink hair drops, settling against faintly shaking shoulders. “You were close?” 

Suddenly the moment before them feels too private to witness anymore. Suddenly, being there feels wrong, hearing Legend ask things that everyone at home in Warriors’ world knows better than to speak of. He doesn't know why Warriors answers, maybe out of guilt for pulling the vet into the exercise, maybe out of a need to set an example or assure, maybe out of his own sort of desperation, but an answer is given. 

  “Yeah. Grew up together. He teased me for my accent, I teased him for his. We ran our mothers to worry and our commanders to madness. I hauled his ass out of prison, he watched mine on the field. Heck,” a smile, bittersweet as the captain settles a cheek in rosy hair, “we went through our trailing- kinda like what I was trying to show the others- we did that together too.” A soft scoff, not a sob, but close, “I think he’s the only reason I made it through training t’all. Would’ve gone mad wit’out ‘im.” 

  “What happened?” Twilight dares speak up, and Wind doesn’t miss the way the man’s thick accent is held in check, nearly gone altogether. So, Twi did hear the comment about Ordon. 

  The captain sighs, lifting his head and staring out at the rest of them, eyes fixing on the rancher last of all. “Ganon. As with most things.” 

  Twilight winces. 

  Warriors chuckles. “Some days it’s like he never left though. He’s still on my ass, still callin’ me ‘pretty boy and tryin’ to get a rise outta me.” Wind doesn’t miss how Twilight’s face crumbles when he realizes blue eyes are still fixed on his. The captain doesn’t either, smile twitching alive again. “It’s nice, sometimes, like seeing what he’d be like if nothing happened. Other days, it’s difficult, and it makes it hard to get through the day.” 

  “How do you handle us?” Legend breathes, half scoff and half awe, eyes trying for a smile again and doing much better. It’s not happy, but it’s kind. 

  The captain doesn’t miss it. “Hylia only knows,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against the one still pressed against it, and then, more serious, “I draw back if I need. Sure, Twilight reminds me of him a lot, some days, but then he does something Gassun would never, or does something so stupid only a hero would do it, and then I remember again and I’m fine.” 

 “Really?” The Stare of Disappointment was definitely something Time learned from the captain, so Wind can’t fathom why the man tries to use it on their brother, but here he is, doing just that. “You expect us to believe that?” 

  “Have faith in me,” Warriors snorts, “I don’t wander around in my own head all day. If I did, you’d’ve burned the world down already!” 

  It sort of ends like that. Warriors redirecting their attention and Legend rolling his eyes at their antics, slowly uncurling again until Four’s mother comes back inside and requests access to her kitchen again. They scatter after, Warriors throwing an arm around the vet and guiding him upstairs so they can have a talk, Time going off in search of the smithy and his father, Wild joining in dinner preparations, and the rest of them cleaning up their mess before leaving. 

 Hyrule still has questions for Twilight about escaping, but Sky heads upstairs after the others, worry creasing his brow in ways it rarely does, but Wind stays behind, scooping up Tongs to keep him company in the wake of his brothers all leaving. Even so, he makes a note to ask the others how they are later. 

  Of course, later, Twilight also asks about what Warriors said, and the captain, to the shock of both his charges, explains himself. Thinking back, it’s no wonder Warriors sees a resemblance; Twilight may have spent his last few years in Ordon, but the military haircut is still very present, a mirror of the captain's own and quite similar to said captain's old friend. Granted, Twilight is darker, hair redder and eyes bright blue, but the accent is the same, rough manner so similar, and the nicknames definitely finish the picture. He doesn’t like the implications of that, not for either of the two, but Twilight walks out of the conversation only looking someone thoughtful, rather than upset, and Warriors seems normal enough, although still quiet for the rest of their time in the smithy’s Hyrule. 

 Collectively, they agree to abandon the escape training. If they want tips, they’ll go to Twilight, but the emotional toll taken on both the vet and the captain isn’t worth it to any of them. Not a second time. Not when they all regret the first one. 

[adaze-4d4z3]

[DELETE]

Extra+rambling under cut

Me when clear all Cathy (feat: my pm oc/insert)

No but I started to cry when it got to this stage of the node and man I clicked on the thing like 30 times before clicking on the clear all Cathy. MAN I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A COOL JOKE UGHHHH. Also Cathcliff is one of my favourite PM ships now they’re just cute.

Random note but I couldn’t finish this when the 3rd part of the canto came out because my iPad kept crashing on the Vergilius node and I had to wait like 1-2 days before I was reunited with my computer to finish this so I missed out on the cleared before nerfs : ( (The moment I got home after a 8 hour flight and 2hr ride home I played through the last bit because I didn’t wanna be spoiled lol, and a lady at the airport got me sick too so I was jet lagged, tired as hell and sick but first priority was limbus lmao)

But like, seriously this canto made me spiral on this one thought. So in the canto it is explained that souls can’t like move on to actual death death because the Wuthering Heights manor is built on a stream. This stream that’s the same thing that the original seed of light project utilised to make cognito and in lobotomy corporation it’s derivatives such as enkephalin and the light/ golden boughs.

And we learn in Lob corp that cognito is pulled up through a well, likely connected to another stream of sorts. (Or is it just the bucket/ Carmen’s nerve system?) (because if it’s just that everything else here’s just invalid lmao)

So like if every branch had a well, which they would because they will have the extraction team to get more abnormalities that means there was a ‘stream’ of sorts underneath every Lob corp branch.

That means in every facility there’s just ghosts haunting the place. Everywhere. And people who died in those places even after Lob corp fell, (Aya, Yuri, the bug veterans) is also just ghosts there now???

Imagine Yuri just dying in that branch and is greeted by the ghosts of all her former co-workers and they’re just like oh cool you managed to get out but why tf did you come back or something.

But this is more interesting for the main facility, the main branch because of Enoch/ Tiphereth B and the light that happened. So Carmen and Ayin got sucked up into the light right? So what about all the other dead souls unable to go on because of the stream? Did they get sucked into the light as well? So is there just a hive mind of people up there we don’t know about? Especially for Enoch since he was a pretty big player in the script and everything. (Here’s where I shall just ramble about the little boy because I quite like the little man) If he got swooped up into the light as well what would his interaction with Carmen be like. I would think he’d just forgive her because he knew what he was getting into. But what about Ayin? Would he understand that this was for a better purpose or be angry at what he made the others (especially Lisa/ Tipherepth A) go through? And additionally would he be angry at Lisa? I pose this question because he wanted to have a purpose, a bigger reason to be living and would he view her letting him be killed (again) as something sad because he could never experience the end of the script and the result of his work/ his ‘purpose’ that he lived to create. Or would it be a little more messed up where he finds his purpose in the light, helping distort people/ gain EGO. (Mostly gain EGO as the preferable outcome, Carmen in Leviathan says something to that extent where’s it’s better for people to ignore her and develop EGO) (I think, I haven’t really read it, just watched random analyses using Leviathan for evidence) And if all the dead people in the main facility is in the light imagine what the actual hell they could do. Like that’s so many people in there.

Also if they are all in the light Tiphereph reunion isn’t impossible, but unlikely since Tiph A has gone through her character develop already :T but I want to see that. How Tiph B feels about what Tiph A did both with pushing Carmen further down depression and her decision to put him down for the sake that he didn’t have to suffer. And just how Tiph A would react to seeing/ hearing him in the light which she probably won’t think it’s a good thing he’d getting caught up with Carmen again : P

Also could the records team have something to do with this fact as well? Like does this explain how the dead are able to come back other than the time thing?

[synchodai]

Live reactions of me watching Episode 5 under the cut. As you will notice, I'm easily impressed and turn into that Leo Dicaprio pointing gif every time a character I like is mentioned.

I love the "It's just meat" line from Ulf. It's great set-up for what's to come and how this whole war will hurt every Targaryen's legitimacy.

Hate the "Rhaenyra will answer for this" line from someone else. No one should be speaking treason that loudly so close to the Kingsguard.

They're peeling him! Love it.

"What would have me do?" Rhaenyra and Aegon both asking the question shows they're both puppets in the end. Neither have the strength and training to be a monarch.

YO CREGAN STARK MENTIONED! WINTER PREPPERS WE STAY WINNING!

Jace flying to Daemon makes sense. Him flying to the Twins instead because....it's too dangerous to go to Harrenhal????? Makes no sense.

YO BLACKWOOD-BRACKEN FEUD MENTIONED! RIVERCHADS WE STAY WINNING!

Daemon being like eeh, I guess you can torture our allies then. Hilarious.

Jeyne Arryn is reacting as she should.

"They betray their own smallness" is such a good line. Mizaya Suzuno is a treat every time she shows up on screen.

Rhaenyra not being taught "the difference between hilt and foible" makes no sense. If she was regular lady who had a very strict father, it would. But she had a rather permissive father who let her do pretty much as she pleased. If she wanted to, she could have learned as much as Arya or Brienne.

Baela finally having screentime? A minor miracle.

OH SO NOW THEY MENTION MELEYS IS THE FASTEST, HUH? (Again, I will keep saying that she could have and should have run away.)

Is that...Aemma??? OH NO IT'S ALYSSA.

How these scenes transition and cut seems more jarring than usual.

This "marital spat" lasting for four episodes seems unnecessary when the murder of a small child was forgotten in two.

Finally, calling out Aemond "for his lack of restraint." He should have been called out ever since he killed Luke.

Alicent makes a great point though. How can he be regent AND fight a war out there in the field???

Alicent having such strong emotions over being passed as regent.......why?

Why does Hugh get a family backstory added to his character and yet we've seen neither lick or hair of Nettles? Where is Nettles????

Costume department, please give Alicent more than two dresses.

YES FINALLY. THIS STORY IS ABOUT THE RIOTS. IT WILL BE THE SMALLFOLK THAT ULTIMATELY WIN THIS WAR AND KILL THE MOST DRAGONS

JASON LANNISTER MENTIONED! LANNATION WE STAY WINNING!

The Daemon will-he-won't-he-traitor is not fun to watch. It's been going on for too long and makes Rhaenyra's side of the war stagnant while the greens are making huge moves.

I don't remember Jace negotiating with the Freys in the book. Unlike in FaB, he was authorized by the queen to make the deals he did with Manderly, Arryn, and Stark. Here, he's completely rogue agent and any promises he makes to the Freys is....uh, questionable.

The purpose of this Frey negotiation scene perplexes me. My boy Jacaerys looks fabulous though. Keep serving, prince.

Alys saying "it's not war, it's a heinous crime" is...not my vibe. She exists in this society where they don't have the concept of humanely treating the enemy. What Daemon is doing to those who don't bend the knee is what is expected of a feudal warlord.

UUUUUUGH, Daemon going rogue agent is so self-sabotaging. This man is supposed to be a competent war veteran! He should know going alone is not the play. Aemond acting like this is believable because Aemond is a young man who's never seen war, but not Daemon.

At this point, Rhaenyra is taking as many Ls as Aegon, maybe even more. Why is everyone just standing around and talking at each other?! Your most important war asset died, where is the fire? Where is the urgency???

Why was Corlys not appointed the Hand from the very beginning?!

DID BAELA JUST REJECT HER INHERITANCE?? BULLSHIT. And she did it so casually too!!!! SHE HAS NO REASON TO DO IT. GIRL, INHERITING DRIFTMARK WOULD MAKE HER ONE THE RICHEST PEOPLE IN THE REALM WHAT IS GOING ON?

"I cannot send a raven for Daemon to disregard." Then why doesn't Rhaenyra go to Harrenhal????? She has a dragon, she can fly quicker than a random small councilman. What is going on with this war?

And now she just up and told a councilman who was already displeased with her and whose main reason for staying is his hatred of the Hightowers, "Oh yeah, Daemon might be raising his own faction. Anyways, you'll go to him and bring him back, won't you?" GIRL, DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO DEFECT?

And the message she sends to Daemon is so feckless. Do you think that will convince anyone to come back?!

HOUR OF THE WOLF MENTIONED. WOLFERINAS WE STAY WINNING.

"Works of barbarity." YOU'RE ALL FEUDAL WARLORDS. YOU ALL BURN FIELDS AND SACK CHURCHES. WTF IS THIS GENEVA CONVENTION BS

"I have seen a share of their fights—" Then you should know the Brackens and Blackwoods do this to each other all the time! They burn each other's sacred places and kill their children. This isn't new! That's why the Riverlands is so poor despite its lands being so rich—because the lords keep sacking and tearing at each other's lands!!!! ARGH THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING

Oh thank god, please let it be a dream. It's a dream. Because lords and ladies saying this and coming in the middle of the night make no sense.

Helaena's one line this episode goes hard.

"Well, it was a long time ago." You tell her, Jace.

"And yet, I must wait here." ...you don't have to. This is such a manufactured conflict, especially when Rhaenyra already showed she can come and go to King's Landing unharmed.

"I'm proud of you" she tell her son who made a deal behind her back and disobeyed her orders. And she wonders why people circumvent her authority? Girl, WIELD YOUR AUTHORITY DAMN.

VERMITHOR AND SILVERWING MENTIONED.

"Valyrian histories, written to gild us in glory." YOU TELL HER, JACE.

Jace should be going, "Look at me mother, do I look like a Valyrian dragonlord to you?" Bham! Much more impactful and goes back to his main character conflict.

ugh, this was such a slow and frustrating episode. Worst of the season so far. High points are more Jace screentime (I just like looking at the actor stand in his costume — so beautiful and princely), the Jeyne Arryn appearance, and setting up the eventual riots. Low points are everything else.

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

you hinted towards it: cptsd vs autism. welcome to exemplify it with The Best Couple if you like. i just want (more) answers to this confusion and maybe to be psychoanalysed myself too but like one?? both?? neither?? what do those scenarios look like, and as a bonus have you heard of the pda profile and how it looks almost exactly like cptsd??

So you sent me another ask asking for a deep dive, and instead of answering that one it prompted me to actually take the leap and answer this one, LOL. Thanks, I've been meaning to for a while.

ALASTAIR AND cPTSD.

Okay, so Alastair has cPTSD. It's canon. Cassie confirmed it in March 2020 at an event in St. Louis. I don't know if it's online anywhere, but I was in attendance and she said that [regarding Alastair] the children of alcoholics have "as much PTSD as war veterans."

One example of this is from his PoV scene in ChoI:

Alastair stood in the parlor, staring blankly out the window at the house next door. He had been watching two little boys playing on the floor of their living room while their mother worked at her embroidery and their father read the newspaper. He could not help but hear his mother’s words as she’d wept, The child will never know his father. Lucky child, he’d said to Cordelia, but under the flippancy, there was a hard, cold sorrow, a sorrow that felt like a blade of ice cutting through him. It was hard to breathe around the loss.

In this scene alone he experiences multiple symptoms of PTSD from the diagnostic criteria sheet. However, this is far from the only place we see his symptoms - his insecurities in talking about Charles, his explicit statement that seeing Charles makes him feel sick, and the "rough around the edges" demeanor also qualify.

THOMAS AND AUTISM.

Okay, now this is probably going to be the harder one to get into because, unlike Alastair's cPTSD, it is not canon. It is a headcanon. That being said, I believe it to be a strong one.

Some autism symptoms Thomas shows in canon include:

Taking things literally (like, he doesn't realize when Alastair is joking until they know each other really well)

Having his own unique phrases and descriptive words

Sometimes having trouble reading cues

Having increased empathy/immense care (her name was Filomena)

Physical clumsiness

Difficulty expressing emotions, even when the emotions are strong

Rash and impulsive behaviours

I will concede that these things do not always mean autism is present, and the clumsiness is probably just because he grew 2 feet overnight. But still, I think Thomas is probably autistic having read his internal poetic monologue as well as how genuinely awkward he feels in most social settings.

I also will post a few photos of TLH passages that scream AUTISTIC to me:

Immediate trust in James despite his odd speech and movements, to the point that he still felt betrayed/hurt after hearing him speak completely differently than usual. A cue-reading difficulty.

Unsure of how to define interpersonal relationships

Unique ways of looking at things, executing plans that are a poor idea for practical reasons despite being good in theory. Also, the emotional awkwardness of asking James whether he minds being punched is gold.

And, a personal favorite,

Getting locked into a plan and being inflexible lol. Also interrupting! I feel that!

INTERPLAY.

I think one of the most fascinating things about TLH is the way that characters' neurodivergences interact with one another. Thomas and Alastair who are, yes, Best Couple, are no exception.

This is another passage that I think Thomas's possible autism shines through, and it's one that I think is relevant for unpacking their relationship development. Alastair's PTSD shines through here as well:

In this passage, we have Alastair (someone with cPTSD):

Try to connect with strange, socially-awkward humor

Alastair probably genuinely seeing the travel year as a vacation because it's an escape from his home life

Alastair naturally self-sabotaging/pushing Thomas away despite his efforts to connect

A sincere apology, but one that seems somewhat awkward - like, he knows he upset Thomas, but still is "startled"

And we have Thomas:

Taking Alastair's statement literally rather than as a joke

Defining what he believes the "travel year" to be (as fact)

Giving Alastair a goodbye handshake (bb no ily but no)

I think that this awkward neurodivergence intersection does keep Thomas and Alastair apart at first. This is one example way. There are other examples, though, too - Alastair pushing Thomas away because he doesn't think he deserves love, assuming he's bad for people. Thomas being petty and struggling to communicate, sending iconic but weird fire messages. An inability to DTR for a long time.

This brings us the Comedy of Errors that I adore in ChoT.

But I think that their respective neurodivergence is what makes their relationship so special, too.

Both of them are extremely empathetic. Both of them are also extremely reckless in some situations, but they can help each other navigate these situations. Alastair following Thomas on solo patrol is a good example of this.

I also think that they are capable of understanding each other extremely well.

Alastair knows how Thomas is feeling and offers a hand to him.

We have the opposite true as well. Thomas is the only person to consistently and stubbornly believe in Alastair. He is also the person that Alastair is consistently vulnerable with. He cries in all 3 TLH books, twice when he is being vulnerable with Thomas and once when he thinks he lost Thomas. And Thomas is always reminding Alastair that he loveable, and easy to love.

I also want to talk about the scene after Thomas and Alastair have sex. He at his point unequivocally has Thomas. Their relationship is defined, and it is serious. But the next day, Alastair still doubts that Thomas might love him because of his Bad Charles Experience.

Thomas can empathize and intuit what Alastair needs here.

It's great.

This is what I love about their relationship.

I'll close this post with a couple paragraphs I wrote in my fic that serves as a love letter to the ship, because it's why they hit so well:

“[W]e just fit together, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful to Alastair, who looked up at him through one open eye. “We are each exactly what the other needs.” “Yes,” Alastair agreed. “We are.” And they laid there for hours, Thomas stroking Alastair’s hair as he told him about Elias Carstairs, the whole truth of him. Some good, most bad, all ugly and broken and raw and real. And while they couldn’t save each other, while they couldn’t cure each other, they helped each other heal.

Without the intersection of neurodivergence, this would not be possible.

[millidew]

even the old and doomed bitter exes were young and optimistic once (lots of notes and hc under cut)

some notes/ideas:

1950-60s inspired in fashion and values. is pokemon wwii a thing? would that just be the pokewar ??? was oak a post war baby surrounded by veterans failed by their government because they were from a town with like 2 houses? what is the truth

samuel oak (but everyone calls him sammy) is a kid from some small town with a goofy haircut and big dreams of discovering/inventing something new. he has a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” mentality and a growing cocky streak like blue. he’s both friendly and determined (some would call him pushy), which is how he met agatha (bothered her until they became friends), and is seen by the town as someone who could put pallet on the map. he sees the potential in people in pokemon and always tries to make them the best he thinks they can be. he’s always had his sights on research/science and used his natural talent for battling to reach it

as he gets older his stubbornness and habit of putting his projects above everything else becomes more apparent

agatha is from a traditional spiritual family with a liking for scarier pokemon since they keep neighborhood troublemakers away from her (and help her get away with her own troublemaking.) she’s petty and vindictive and sneaky. most people don’t like her much. in fact, she probably snuck away for her own journey and resolved not to come back until she’d made a name for herself or something. she’s restricted by social and gender expectations and can’t wait to be a crotchety old woman

she met sammy on their journeys, and they ended up becoming friends-rivals, in that their friendship was built on a rivalry, despite agatha pretty much always losing

most people in those days just went a few routes down before going back home, but both have something to prove and big ambitions. unlike him, who seems to have a natural affinity and talent for battles, she feels has to work harder for it. so we have beloved talented upstanding country science boy VS ostracized skilled sneaky slightly-less-country ghost girl.

agatha likes sammy best when he’s putting his all into battle (a crimson flame quietly burning…..), not that doing silly nerd stuff. she likes him best when he’s not on some high horse. when he left to focus on the pokédex after rising to such a high trainer rank with her, and seemingly cast battling/her aside without second thought, she felt betrayed and like he was wasting his natural talents. if she had that innate talent, she’d never throw it away.

who needs a “”pokedex”” anyways? back in her day they had to learn from trial and error. kids these days are so soft. are you planning to write a guidebook for the elite four too samuel??

samuel (sammy is too childish for him nowadays) thinks this is very immature of her. his passions have always lied in research (he spent so much of his journey drawing and notetaking! was she purposefully ignorant?). did she think they’d play with pokemon forever? he needs a real job! a job that will let him play with pokemon…for science

obviously they’ll just never speak to each other again (this lasted for like 2 weeks until he contacted her)

agatha thinks he’s just as bullheaded and petty as she is and just doesn’t like being called out on it now that he’s the respectable professor samuel oak. this guy once got ran over by a pack of oddish because agatha told him he should track the pokemon’s sleepwalking patterns!! she laughed in his face! he bought her gloom perfume years later and the empty bottle is probably still somewhere in her house!!!

they continued to be exes of fluctuating bitterness for like 4 decades. samuel went home, got married, had children who gave him grandchildren, revolutionized the field of pokémon study a few times, and agatha cultivated her creepy witch image, joined the elite four, sent every challenger away with a new ghost phobia for fun, became a trickster mentor for a young lance, and simply refuses to die of old age out of spite

samuel is a family man who wanted kids and agatha Did Not. but uh in the end he lost all his kids so. they had other issues but that was also one of them

oak is harsher on his grandson because he sees himself in him. he feels like strictness and commitment was what he needed as a child (he had to develop that later on), but instead ended up making blue rebellious. oak’s pride in his hometown (establishing a lab there instead of a bigger city) made blue embarrassed of it. oak doesn’t think battling should be a full time job (and certainly wasn’t viable in his time!) (he swears agatha stays on the elite four just to sprite him), and that he should have a second venture (like research!) just in case. samuel certainly wasn’t satisfied with just battling when he was blue’s age! his grandson is clearly intelligent, but he’s wasting his talents at his gym, and he’s always ignoring his gym leader duties anyways. he’ll grow out of it one day just like samuel did, and when he does, samuel will get him a job with one of his colleagues

just switch battling and research around and this sounds a little familiar

oak’s views on his granddaughter uhhhh good with housework and kids which is useful because he stays late at the lab too often to do any of that and most of his work can’t hold the attention of any 6 year old that isn’t red. i don’t think he had any plans for daisy like he did for blue… yikes!

agatha would not be pleased which is why she’s not allowed to see them because she’d convince his nice granddaughter to quit her job and join a gothic band or something

on red, oak sees him struggling socially and also relates to him, because he’s a kid who clearly loves pokemon and likes to draw. so he gives him more attention, unintentionally making blue feel excluded, resulting in him acting out for attention. oak doesn’t see the correlation. this is an example of oak’s good intentions combined with his one track mind and his idea of how the world should work making HIM the one who struggles socially. if he’d shared that story about getting run over by the oddish maybe blue wouldn’t see him as such a serious looming figure in his life judging his every move

agatha thinks red is a good kid, shakes her head at daisy, and likes blue because he’s a little tyke. blue doesn’t like to think about his gramps’ love life so he tries to avoid her (it doesn’t work)

anyways everyone involved is very stubborn and a little self centered and bad with feelings so no one is admitting defeat without intervention

hmm naturally talented socially awkward stubborn pokemon lover beloved by their community and their colder, skilled (but nonetheless second place) rival with a chip on their shoulder who feels left behind. all roads lead back to reguri

oak and agatha are on much better terms nowadays though, her spininess is just part of her personality

he calls her an old friend and rival and holds her in high esteem and she calls him a has-been with the personality of lint

[bardock1991]

RWBY: Heirs of the Future

& It's finished. I also added a logo, as well as a cool background of the Remnant Map I'll give a brief overview of each of the characters in a moment

Thanks to JumJamz for the inspiration, this was really fun

Name: Vermillion O. Rose

Age: 15

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Sapphic Ace

Allusion: Celica from Fire Emblem

Class: Lord

Personality: Unlike her Mother, Vee is very talkitive, expressive, lively & extroverted. She's very kind & friendly, but also a bit of a pacifist.

Name: Ranja Polendina

Age: 14

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Allusion: Laphicet from Tales of Berseria

Class: Sorcerer

Personality: A young boy who was captured & experimented upon as a child. Fortunately, he was found & rescued, then adopted by Penny. Ranja's a shy & distant boy.

Name: Lira X.L. Belladonna

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Allusion: Tifa from Final Fantasy

Class: Grappler

Personality: A Thrillseeker who loves to get into fights, as well as be a bit of a tease towards her friends. Despite that, she's warm & caring like a mother.

Name: Mowgli X.L. Belladonna

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Allusion: Cloud from Final Fantasy

Class: Ronin

Personality: A young man who tries to act like the cool, older brother, but in reality, he's a bit of a dork & a huge softy, just like his mother, Yang.

Name: Nicholas Schnee III

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Allusion: Thor from Marvel Comics

Class: General

Personality: A very friendly, if somewhat loud, young man who wishes to honor the name of his great-grandfather. Despite his bombastic attitude, he's very wise.

Name: Athena Arc

Age: 15

Gender: Female

Sexuality: AroAce

Allusion: Athena from Greek Myth

Class: Bishop

Personality: A very kind & heartwarming young girl, as well as a skilled healer. Through her Father, she developed a strong sense of empathy, even to her enemies.

Name: Harlen E. Goodwitch

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Allusion: Lina from The Slayers

Class: Dark Flier

Personality: Like Vee, Harlen is almost the opposite of her mother. Energetic, a thrillseeker, talkitive & kinda reckless. But like her Mother, she's very smart.

Name: Odin R. Valkyrie

Age: 17

Gender: Trans Masc

Sexuality: Gay

Allusion: Elves from Norse Myth

Class: Sniper

Personality: A young man who doubted himself when he was a child, but thanks to the support of his parents, Odin was able to find his true self. He's a loyal friend.

Name: Aladdin B. Sustrai

Age: 17

Gender: Non-Binary

Sexuality: Bisexual

Allusion: Aladdin from The Arabian Nights

Class: Rogue

Personality: They're a bit of a scheemer, as well as a bit nihilistic, due to their upbringing. Even so, they never stop trying to do the right thing.

Name: Shadow Fall

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Assexual

Allusion: Shadow from Sonic The Hedgehog

Class: Dark Knight

Personality: A cold, distant, blunt & serious young man who never knew his mother. After meeting Vee, he slowly, but surely began to soften up.

Name: Khloud Alcides Ignis

Age: 53

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Allusion: Broly from Dragon Ball

Class: Holy Knight

Personality: A Veteran Knight who was once the crown prince of Vale. After The War of Rebirth, he stepped down & served the new king as a Royal Knight.

Name: Zwei Rose

Age: Unknown

Gender: Male

Allusion: Kilara from Inuyasha

Personality: Ruby's only friend throughout most of The War of Rebirth, he's a loyal friend & a powerful ally. He's also very protective of those he grows close to, as well as a bit of a softy to children.

[ogradyfilm]

Scorsese Sunday: Killers of the Flower Moon

[The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

When this money started coming, we should have known it came with something else. They’re like buzzards circling our people.

Comparing the villains of Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon to a flock of ominous carrion birds is fairly apt, reinforcing the film’s recurring metaphorical imagery of scavengers, vermin, and predators. Indeed, the first teaser trailer juxtaposed a roomful of greedy opportunists with an illustration of ravenous wolves.

The most contemptible, conniving, and insidious of these thieves, grifters, and conmen is undoubtedly Robert De Niro’s William Hale, a venomous serpent masquerading as a benevolent, respectable philanthropist. Disarmingly charismatic and ostentatiously affable, the self-proclaimed “King of the Osage Hills” slithers through every scene, his keen, calculating eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. In public, he offers his Native American neighbors warm smiles, friendly handshakes, and intimate words of comfort; behind closed doors, on the other hand, he ruthlessly exploits and abuses their trust, utilizing bribery, coercion, and intimidation to ensure that the tribe’s newfound oil wealth “flows in the right direction”—namely, into his own wallet.

Unlike Goodfellas, Casino, and The Wolf of Wall Street—which explore the inherent allure of crime (both organized and white collar) in order to more vividly expose its thoroughly rotten core—there’s nothing glamorous about this movie’s acts of deception, fraud, and murder. Hale is the sole beneficiary of his machinations; his assorted accomplices, underlings, and associates are merely expendable pawns. This includes his nephew, Ernest Berkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio, dramatically distancing himself from his pretty boy roots), a simple-minded war veteran lured to Oklahoma by the prospect of an easy payday. At his uncle’s behest, he marries into an especially affluent local family, giving him access to their considerable fortune. Against all odds, the unabashed gold digger actually falls madly in love with his bride of convenience, Mollie (Lily Gladstone, effortlessly projecting quiet, unwavering determination)—and, perhaps even more surprisingly, the feeling is mutual.

Unfortunately, the sincerity of Ernest’s affection does little to dissuade him from participating in the systematic eradication of his wife’s entire bloodline; ultimately, he’s just too timid and subservient to defy his uncle. Although his (admittedly inadequate) scruples seemingly invite the audience to sympathize with his plight, however, Scorsese refuses to absolve his protagonist of his guilt. “I got nothing but regret,” he laments after finally turning against his fellow conspirators—but remorse does not guarantee forgiveness (nor should it). When Mollie admonishes her husband for portraying himself as a passive victim rather than accepting accountability for his innumerable transgressions (particularly those perpetrated against her personally—tampering with her insulin, deliberately poisoning her over the course of several months, incessantly gaslighting her), he meekly denies the accusations. Disgusted by his utter lack of moral fortitude, she immediately ends their relationship, abandoning him to rot in prison—an appropriately grim fate for an unrepentant sinner.

This nuanced variation on the theme of redemption—a favorite of the director’s since Mean Streets—demonstrates Scorsese’s tremendous growth as an artist. It’s become a cliché to argue that whatever his latest movie happens to be is also his most mature work yet… but that doesn’t necessarily make the sentiment any less true. His depiction of violence, for example, is no longer quite as spectacular or stylized as it was in Taxi Driver or The Departed; here (continuing the trend established in The Irishman), bloodshed always occurs abruptly and unceremoniously, framed in detached wide shots that are almost oppressive in their unflinching objectivity. More importantly, he meditates on the role that storytelling plays in shaping the perception of history. The delightfully postmodern epilogue reveals that Mollie’s real-life obituary makes no mention of the massacre of the Osage. Scorsese tolerates no such omission: he allows the camera to linger on each corpse, acknowledging the slain by name via voiceover narration—confronting the tragedy and injustice of the senseless slaughter head-on, in excruciatingly minute detail.

Thus, Killers of the Flower Moon is Scorsese’s most scathing deconstruction of “the American Dream” to date; his approach to the relentlessly dark subject matter (the corrosive nature of materialism, the cruel indifference of corrupt institutions of power) is as compelling and insightful as you’d expect from a filmmaker that boasts over a half-century of experience without sacrificing any of his youthful passion and enthusiasm. In recent interviews, Scorsese has mused that his time may be running short, speculating that he only has a few projects left in him before age takes its toll. I certainly hope he’s wrong; the industry needs his creativity and clarity of vision now more than ever.

[tertiaryunit]

The first time Walton realizes he’s feeling something weird when Lawrence is around, after seven months of working together. 

A word of warning: If toxic relationships (and all that these entail) are a trigger for you, I suggest you to not read my work.  My intention is to write about certain topics without glorifying them, with the realism and seriousness they deserve. What I write comes from personal experiences.

Music mood: [Youtube Link]

-----------------------------------

[New York, Midtown Manhattan, April 4th 2046]

It was a crisp Spring end of day, perfect for one of those many high-society gatherings at which the elite from everywhere reunited to discuss business, politics and whatnot. The Four Seasons Hotel, one of the city's most opulent hotels (and where the current event was taking place) shone like an expensive lighthouse in the evening. And while most people were talking, dancing, or being served generous doses of alcohol, one man stood on the sidelines clearly uncomfortable: Walton Simons, one of the many philanthropists present at the event. Next to all those people with wine-reddened cheeks his white skin with grayish pink undertones made him feel incredibly out of place. And that’s without mentioning the vein-like bioelectric augs running across his entire head and neck. Or the scar that started from the bottom of the right eyelid to the forehead, oblique and precise like a clean cut. Those kinds of events never really appealed to him; he considered them a masquerade of plastic smiles, surrounded by those he viewed as the scum of humanity (politicians, socialites, tycoons and other magnates) -- and Walton, from the height of his experience as a 56-year-old decorated retired veteran, knew a lot about human nature. 

Usually, his companion was his long-time friend Robert “Bob” Page, CEO of Versalife - unlike him, Bob loved gatherings such as this as they presented a more than perfect opportunity to put himself at the center of attention and show off. Since he was busy (probably with another, much louder party), however, this time around his companion was Lawrence Carter, Simons’ personal body man. 

The boy had just turned eighteen when he was assigned under his wing (seven months ago), after years and years of special training - besides few selected individuals, people could not and must not have known about Lawrence’s true nature: Page’s pet project, the next step for the creation of a new type of living weapon - an Esper, an artificial human being with terrifying psychic powers.

The young Carter was instructed to be a perfect gentleman and, along with the posh mannerisms, his elegant black suit and expensive cologne scent he surely looked the part. More than once different people had noticed similarities between the philanthropist and his body man; from the hairline to the hair color to some facial features and eye color (an identical iron gray) - similarities always denied but present as Lawrence was Simons’ half clone.

Austere, calm and sombre were all adjectives that fitted Walton like a glove; gallant, friendly and full of joie de vivre were Lawrence’s. And these very characteristics made a smile and a sigh meet on Simons’ lips when his eyes fixated on the young man - but the smile was more melancholy than the sigh for Lawrence was the echo of the past Springs while his heart was so far ahead in the Winter of life. Something about Lawrence made Simons feel as if someone was piercing his heart with searing swords; it was a strange sensation that he had not felt in years. The same feeling that, whenever the young man entertained other people, made the blood boil in his veins like a stream of molten lead. Every time Lawrence brushed his lips against a woman's hand or a man's ring as a sign of respect, his insides twisted as if someone squeezed them.

But that night, when Walton saw Lawrence take a waiter by the arm, laughing lightheartedly, something snapped in his head. His face became of a cadaverous pallor, making his dark eyebags more evident and his gaze as fiery as burning embers. This reaction would later disturb him but, at that moment, his mind was not rational. 

The two youths seemed to be mocking some of the couples in the lounge, but even the most innocent joke appears perverse to a mind accustomed to seeing the rottenness in others except within.

Walton approached them with heavy footsteps, his fury barely contained, and pulled his subordinate by the arm with such force that Lawrence almost fell on the floor. When he turned his head to see who was responsible he froze with terror: the convulsed, livid face of his superior towered over him. Lawrence’s slight tan skin turned pale before that terrible vision.

“You... You are here to work, Lawrence. Not to dawdle with the staff” “M-my apologies, Sir! I... I wasn’t going to do anything!”

He took him aside, leading him into a deserted hallway, far from the warm light of the lounge and the cheerful hubbub of the guests. His grip on Lawrence’s arm was now less oppressive but as firm as ever.

“Explain yourself!”  “Sir, that was just a good friend of mine! F-from the British Butler Institute. We attended the same two years. I just wanted to greet him” Walton’s expression was still undecipherable but less menacing.

“Sir... You are right, I should not waste time on frivolities. I am on duty” “It’s not about that”

Lawrence’s eyes snapped up and down just as quickly. His cheeks became tinged with a blush that had nothing to do with alcohol but his heart beating wildly. 

“Sir, since I have been working for you, you have done nothing but treat me with the utmost respect and spoil me with your company. Working for you has always been one of my greatest desires” “One of, boy? What’s THE greatest one, I wonder...”

Lawrence knelt at his feet, gently took the man's left hand and, with his head down kissed it. 

“Being loved by you, Sir”  The young man was honest, there was no lie in his words; his eyes wet with suppressed tears were veiled with sadness and that same longing that Simons had caught in his furtive glances so many times before.

Walton did not answer. Once again, the old man felt that fit of pain in his chest. What Walton sensed was the beginning of something very sinister. It was like tenderness mixed with anger and fear. Something indescribable that made his stomach churn; a part of him wanted to curse him as long as he had life and the other embrace him. 

“Stand up, Lawrence. I think they're about to open the dances. Let’s go and see them”

Lawrence’s eyes lit up when the man helped him to get up. The two then headed back into the dazzling lights of the lounge. with entirely different moods from each other.

--------------------- NOTES. * Walton’s feelings. He 100% knows this is wrong and creepy, especially considering the massive age gap. There’s a reason he keeps everything secret - Lawrence is so in love with him that he doesn’t notice the red flags, but other people do. Multiple characters in the story call it out too 💀 While he recognizes all of that he will only get worse in the span of a few more months. Some of you with a good memory may have noticed the date on which this chapter is set. Yeah.

I genuinely hope readers won’t be fooled by Walton’s seemingly sweeter than usual behavior - it’s pretty much the start of the “cycle of abuse”: 

The abusive individual creates a safe space filled with love and a sense of security in the relationship. This phase holds a significant draw for the person who is experiencing the abuse as feelings of love are very powerful.  The abusive person acts in ways they know their partner will desire and appreciate.

The second phase is the “Tension Building Phase”. During this phase, the person experiencing the abuse is aware that tension within the relationship is increasing. The abusive partner may give the other partner the “silent treatment”, refusing to answer them or answering only in grunts. The abused individual tries to keep their abusive partner from becoming angry.

At this phase, some common terminology and actions used to control the abused individual are: “Don’t push it” “If you loved me” Questioning and jealousy Withdrawing and sulking Silent Treatment Broken Promises Manipulation and mind games Blaming

The tension continues to grow and the “Explosive Phase” occurs. This is the time that the abusive behaviour occurs whether it’s verbal, emotional,  sexual and/or physical.  There is nothing the person who is experiencing the abuse can do to prevent the abusive behaviour. No matter what, the abusive individual will find an excuse to abuse.

At this phase, some common terminology and actions used to control the abused individual are: “You pushed me too far this time” “Why would you make me do this to you”

After the abusive event, the abusive partner tries to get the relationship back the “Honeymoon Phase” by becoming the partner the other fell in love with. In order to do this, the abusive partner is often sincerely sorry for the abuse and many promises are made, saying “I’ll never do it again.”, “I’ll go to marriage counselling.”, “I’ll quit drinking.” However, in time, the tension begins building again and another explosion occurs.

I’ll leave it to the Reader to headcanon if Walton actually “loves” Lawrence or not (which, by the way, doesn’t excuse his disgusting behavior).

* The Spring/Winter duality represent the beginning and the end and the difference in stages of life the two are at. You could see it as how a cold Winter is destructive. Also the name of the hotel...

[balanmlpfurryandmore-confessions]

Prompt, PTSD War veteran.

The soldier was home. It didnt feel like home, it was hollow and the cross on the wall symbolizing his faith just insulted him.

When he was a boy he was a good Christian boy, he loved his army toys and was always preached to about heaven and hell.

When he first started fighting in the army he was preached at about how the other side was enemies and evil and heartless...

He could almost stomach it until he saw the people he was really hurting. Seeing a small child hiding in their mothers arms.

It was then he really realized what all this fighting was for, it was purely to just fuck over innocence and make the old fucks in charge feel powerful.

He had a wife. Had..

She left him, assumed dead he was. She just left, and now shes married to his friend the coward who dodged drafting. Bastard.

The veteran was at the lowest he'd ever been, and he decided to go out for a drink.

On the way he found a beautiful theater. It was quiet inside and warm, unlike the bitter winter air, he entered if only to peek. Inside he saw to worn insides, it reminded him of himself, a little broken and creaky. Upon further searching he saw a beautiful man, dark velveteen face and bright dreads, and those eyes drawing him in.

The soldier had always felt conflicted with certain men, his religious teaching shame those thoughts. Here he was though, admiring this angelic being that was just looking into his soul.

Balan approaches him with a gentle demeanor, he knew this was a special case, he couldnt be loud or pop fireworks and he didnt let the Tim's out unless they were small and quiet.

The man swallowed hard taking in the smell of the mysterious stranger who began to hold him, this contact felt sweet and overwhelming but he clung to the pretty man.

Balan softly cooed to the man to ease him into releasing the held in tears. These tears were loaded with agony and youthful tears from childhood, tears that his father shamed him for. All these emotions boiled and finally poured out remembering the war, the children, the innocent people and what he lost.

The soldier just sobbed and screamed just letting out all the anguish until he felt empty again. The sweet balan stroked his hair and back watching the suffering man just pour his feelings out. Balan even snuck in a forehead kiss as if he was holding a small creature.

This type of sadness wasnt gonna be fixed, but it helped to have a safe place to cry and release that pain. Balan was his floaty he clung to right now, that old ring of rubbed that inflated when he was forced to storm the island. Balan was the one thing keeping him from completely succumbing to the sea of depression and self hate.

He really liked the maestros smell, like a flower in the desert tickling his nose with sweet smells. It was amazing and very delightful, he didn't notice balan was carrying him to a bedroom to begin the therapy.

The therapy was to restore some of that childhood innocence and to rest before having to go back to the cold world....

[aeoki]

Candy House - Programme to Fall in Love: Chapter 9

Characters: Tsumugi Season: Winter

Euryale: But don’t hold a grudge against Stheno… against my sister and the others. Humans are weak creatures – nobody knows what’s going to happen in the future, so they just want some form of certainty.

At times, they might even cling to suspicious “divine messages” in order to dispel those anxious feelings.

I’m just a sorceress who passes on those divine messages. My life is about to come to an end, so they’ll search for another god in order to live – and the god they ended up choosing was money.

Tsumugi: This is all past redemption… But you reached out to us because you wanted to exploit “Gorgon Corporation’s” anxiety, right?

Euryale: Yeah. I told them in the “divine message” that in order for the rest of the world to learn of “SSVRS” – their money-making device – they’d need to be on good terms with idols, the ones who will prevail in this country in the future.

Thanks to that, you and Sora-kun were able to access the area where I was being kept.

The device hasn’t been released for the market yet, so “Gorgon Corporation” had no choice but to use their local area network for testing purposes.

Of course, I’m not bad mouthing you guys, but back then, you were a really weak and declining agency…

You guys were suspicious and wondered why they’d form a partnership with you, right?

Thanks to that, I was in a bind because I literally couldn’t do much.

Tsumugi: Well, I suppose I’d like to apologise for our lack of ability.

Euryale: It’s fine. Trying to outwit your opponent while they’re wary of you is kind of like a video game – it was fun.

Ahaha, I used to play a lot of games with Sora-kun…

Even though I’m an AI, I couldn’t win at shogi – Japanese chess – and I was pretty frustrated. Sora-kun uses some pretty dirty tricks, after all.

Tsumugi: I know what you mean~ He uses practically everything he can to win, doesn’t he? He’s definitely not a good boy that’s innocent and harmless.

But I think that part of Sora-kun should be respected and it’s also one of his many charms.

Euryale: Yeah. It was strange – even though he beat me, I felt frustrated, of course, but I also felt happy.

He’d trick me and I’d complain… I wish we did more of that.

But I guess I don’t have the time for that anymore.

I have to destroy the system “Gorgon Corporation” created that will ignore human dignity and extort them for their money right away.

Tsumugi: I’m sure Natsume-kun and Sora-kun will succeed in doing that in the virtual space.

They said they’ll destroy that world, reset it and turn it back into a harmless video game.

I don’t know the details, so I don’t really understand how it’ll work out, though.

Euryale: Yeah. Even so, you have lots of life experience since you’ve been working on behalf of your agency’s president.

You wouldn’t be able to hold your own against a veteran like Stheno if you didn’t have that experience.

Tsumugi: Well, I suppose I managed to somehow drive her away – like how we took her by surprise earlier.

But this Stheno person doesn’t actually exist, right? We can’t completely let our guard down until we do something about the person controlling them, right?

Euryale: Yeah. Stheno is just a pawn controlled by the president of “Gorgon Corporation”.

She doesn’t exist – she’s just an imaginary employee that was created so that the president could put the blame on her.

“Gorgon Corporation” have ended up in court numerous times because they went too far. Being cut off gracefully like a lizard’s tail is her job.

For example, they could say everything was the fault of an employee called Stheno and that the company itself had nothing to do with it. 

I don’t think that would actually fool the court, but they were made to expect that sort of role.

Tsumugi: Just like the yakuza’s underlings, huh.

Euryale: If we look at it that way, then I’d feel bad for my sister. She doesn’t have a mind of her own, unlike me, so she’s just a puppet…

If she did have a mind of her own, maybe we’d empathise and comfort each other. Maybe we could’ve gotten along as sisters.

Tsumugi: As the oldest and second oldest of the Gorgon sisters? Come to think of it, the “evil eye” Stheno-san had was…

Euryale: Seeing as Stheno made an appearance, it means the company has crossed a dangerous bridge. If they’ve chosen to be involved with her, then that means they’ve chosen to walk down a path of misfortune.

That’s why that evil eye exists. You’ll be destroyed once you’re bewitched by it.

Tsumugi: I see~ By the way, your clairvoyance is just another way of saying you can understand everything by gaining information on the internet, right, Euryale-chan?

Euryale: Yeah. I’m a captive but I can just barely use backdoors to access the internet and send messages.

If I peek into the information in security cameras connected to the internet, then I can “see” just about everything.

Tsumugi: I see. The last sister in that myth, Medusa, bothers me then.

Is there someone called Medusa as well? I wouldn’t want someone who has been invisible up until this point to show up and turn everything into a mess.

That sort of thing isn’t allowed in detective novels.

Euryale: Reality doesn’t take place inside a novel. Medusa does exist and she has “eyes that will turn everything into stone”.

Well, she’s harmless to you all, so you don’t have to worry about her.

I don’t think she’ll ever interact with your reality.

Tsumugi: Is that so...? I’m a bit anxious but I’ll believe what you say. I’m too much of a worrywart, you see.

Hehe. I feel relieved after understanding how the eyes work. If it really is some sort of curse from the occult, then a solution wouldn’t really exist, huh.

Euryale: In this world, gods, Buddha, ghosts, curses, magic and superpowers don’t exist.

But even so, miracles can occasionally happen.

Something that was born on the internet came to have a mind of its own by coincidence, and it was able to live as a human with intelligence and a soul for a moment.

They made a friend. Maybe they also fell in love.

Say, if you wouldn’t call that a miracle, then what would you call it?

Tsumugi: We’d call that magic.

No. We call ourselves magicians because miracles do happen.

Even if there’s no magic in this world, we call ourselves magicians for the sake of those who are praying for a miracle…

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[casbooks]

Book 50 of 2024 (★★★)

Title: Hollywood Station Authors: Joseph Wambaugh

Series: 1 of Hollywood Station ISBN: 9780446401241 Rating: ★★★ Subject: Books.Fiction.Crime.Wambaugh

Description: For a cop, a night on the job means killing time and trying not to get killed. If you're a cop in Hollywood Division, it also means dealing with the most overwrought, desperate, and deluded criminals anywhere. When you're patrolling Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards, neither a good reputation nor the lessons of scandals past will help you keep your cool, your sanity, or your life when things heat up.The robbery of a Hollywood jewelry store, complete with masks and a hand grenade, quickly connects to a Russian nightclub, an undercover operation gone bloodily wrong, and a cluelessly ambitious pair of tweakers. Putting the pieces together are the sergeant they call the Oracle and his squad of street cops. There's Budgie Polk, a twenty-something firecracker with a four-month-old at home, and Wesley Drubb, a rich boy who joined the force seeking thrills. Fausto Gamboa is the tetchy veteran, and Hollywood Nate is the one who never shuts up about movies. They spend their days in patrol cars and their nights in the underbelly of a city that never sleeps. From their headquarters at Hollywood Station, they see the glamour city for what it is: a field of land mines, where the mundane is dangerous and the dangerous is mundane.

My Review: It was an OK book, not a great one, not a bad one, definitely OK. While the cast of characters was plentiful, the main story revolved around two drug addicts and the machinations they start by stealing a couple pieces of mail, and that's where the whole thing sort of goes into meh territory. By deciding on having that single narrative be the main point, the pages are filled with their story and the actions and consequences that derive from them. They are the focus, and the spotlight. And frankly, it's a meh tale about the most unlikable people with a rose colored glasses/happy fairy tale ending. The books shines brightest when he talks about the officers and their actions, interactions, thoughts, and the random calls they go on. From rookie just off probation to veteran who's seen it and done it all. They are characters we've all seen before, and they all feel familiar, and while they have little depth, they're fun to read and ride along with. THAT is where the most joy comes from the book. If you get rid of the whole tweaker story, and focus just on the calls and day in/day out, you have a 4 or 5 star book, but those pages are so few compared to the "main story" that you have to slog through to the inevitable cliche ending, it just drops it to a 3. The biggest issue with the book is that I tried to read it from the perspective of my fiancee. I put in many years working West Hollywood and I'm familiar with the terms, the procedures, and I remember Gates, Williams, Parks and Bratton. I remember when the consent decree was finally dismissed in 2013! And I still get irked every time I see that idiot Villaraigosa's name pop up in today's politics. I know what an RA is, 5150, a Rover and the rest are. The book is written by someone in the life, who speaks the language and his vocab isn't the same as yours. The first few pages are full of jargon and insider slang, and it's not until mid book/end book that he starts explaining what some of the terms and things mean. I know that if she tried to read it, she would have dropped it in the first chapter and walked away. I asked a few others to read the pages, and they agreed they were confused and lost. So I don't know if I'll read the rest of the series or other books by him. I didn't really care for Fire Lover either, but it wasn't a bad book in general.