#I am winning the war but casualties were heavy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gentrychild · 4 years ago

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Some part of me wonders if the hsc was just waiting for the hero system to fail as badly as it did in canon. I don't mean it in the, they don't benefit from the working hero system, but I mean it in the, the hero system is working exactly as it is meant to. All Might brought peace and peacetime can make it hard to maintain power over a population because people have the luxury of questioning stuff. Obviously the entire culture around pro-heroes and villains would be a good deterrent to people saying "hmm, maybe that was excessive force and also that villain was motivated by poverty and maybe force shouldn't be the go-to way to prevent crime" but peace makes people feel safe enough to ask those things.

But disruption? Terror? All Might gone, heavy losses on the side of heroes, heroes failing to defeat the villains with mass casualties, a loss of faith a system with comparatively a gentle use of force to what the hsc might use, where daytime heroes were under intense scrutiny from the public and help to high standards of behaviour?

All Might made people feel like heroes would always win and so they could demand high standards of behaviour and ethics from them. Without All Might and a guarantee of victory, handing more power to the hsc or allowing more leeway might seem logical to scared people. Perhaps not heroes, but still individual actors using quirks with different branding. It's likely what happened during the Dawn of Quirks and historically, that's often how governments gain greater power as a result of instability. And even once Shigiraki is dealt with, this attitude will extend to all villains/criminals with harsher responses to mild infractions. Perhaps tighter Quirk laws as well, or at least more enforcement.

If left alone, the hero system as it is would likely go through cycles. Chaos, power granted to the government, use of this power to gain stability through force, and either this peace through force is maintained until a stronger disruption/villain, or the amount of force used is lessened through public demand. The hero system collapses once again because root causes are not addressed, chaos, and then power is handed over to the government to regain stability through force. Rinse, repeat, until it inevitably implodes.

I don't think the hsc predicted it failing as badly as it did, or how Endeavour's actions would bite them in the ass with Dabi. But I could see them betting on All Might retiring, the spike in crime and social unrest as a result, and using that to push through more authoritarian measures. Because that's how it often goes in the real world

Panem and circenses, Anon. Bread and circuses. That's how you keep a society from noticing people in power are taking them from fools and that's on what the hero system is based.

Civilians need big good heroes to protect them from the big bad villains. Add some cult of personality.... I mean, hero worship and quirk veneration (since heroes are the elite, the only one allowed to use their quirks, normal people can't use theirs in public places, and villains are usually people with ominous quirks), and you get BNHA!

And the great thing is that if people are brainwashed into loving hero, they don't question the statu quo too much and you don't need force to justify more and more power being given to the heroes.

Well, to a point. Because, as you said, the longer the peace lasts, the more people have time to think about the flaws of the system.

I think that the reasons why this lack of questioning lasted so long despite All Might's enforced peace was because:

1. again, the society worships heroes and propaganda is a nifty tool.

2. that peace was enforced by All Might. There is a real difference between "We live in peace because people wants to be nice to each other" and "Our protector prevents the bad guys from harming us." For the latter, there is still this sense of "the others would harm us if heroes weren't there to protect us".

But even with that, you're right, the public would have grown antsy sooner or later. So, the way to keep the system in place would have been to show that the villains were becoming more vicious, so the Hero Commission would have no choice but to say "See what happens when we don't have free reins to protect you?"

However, i am convinced that the HPSC never would have allowed the hero society to fail this way.

Endangering it a little bit is good to scare the public and make them long for the safety of the past. But when you let a system crumble, odds are that the opponents are the one to get in power and to become the new government. (Or, if said opponents are a bunch of anarchists who don't want to rule, you get chaos then, some time after, government slowly rebuilding itself but it's not the same guys anymore and the HSPC, since it's made of people who like power, would never willingly part with it.)

No, I think that messed everything up was All Might's sudden retirement + the fight in Kamino.

The Hero Commission probably knew that All Might was weakening (that was kind of an opened secret in some circles) but he would have lasted longer if there wasn't for the Kamino fight. So, and I am speculating here but that's kinda my thing, the HSPC probably had something planned so they would slowly introduce the idea of All Might's retirement to the public and a new number 1, ready to walk in All Might's footsteps but different enough for people not to constantly compare the both of them.

And if the HPSC had the time to make it happen, the new number 1 hero would have been that guy:

Alas for the Hero Commission, All Might not only retired sooner than intended but in a very public manner, and worse of all, he almost got killed.

Before Kamino, the LoV was a bunch of scrubs. They had their behind handed to them by high school children (on their first week at hero school, no less).

Then, the summer camp happened. UA being attacked and Bakugou being abducted was a golden opportunity for the Hero Commission if they wanted more power. They had THE excuse to have more influence on the hero schools.

Except that 1. Nedzu didn't call the top heroes to rescue Bakugou. He called the UA alumni, restoring some of UA street cred and (accidentally?) preventing HC heroes to fix the situation. 2. the Hero Commission, even if they were warned that AFO could be there, thought that top heroes would easily take care of the LoV, who had won against students and a bunch of low ranked heroes.

Instead, they got this:

SSS ranked villain. Someone who almost killed All Might. Someone who probably could have razed a town.

That's the kind of power backing the LOV.

And that's terrifying.

But worse than AFO killing so many people, worse than AFO almost killing the Symbol of Peace under everyone's eyes, he revealed the truth.

All Might, symbol of absolute strength, their protector, was actually reduced to this state.

That's the opposite of slowly introducing All Might's retirement to the world. For the moment, everyone who saw this had to live through the eventuality that the one guaranteeing their peace was going to die on this day, leaving the villains free to do whatever they wanted.

After that, they needed to comfort the public, to tell them that they could fix this. Once again, it could be taken as an opportunity to have more power, to have more authority, but now, there was a much higher risk for the Hero Commission.

So, they had the great idea of doing whatever happened during the war arc. To show the threat of the big bad villain and to assemble an army of heroes to defeat them, to show that 1. the heroes have it handled 2. that the Hero Commission helped preventing things from becoming worse so they should be granted more powers.

This was a high risk, high reward situation.

And the Hero Commission failed to assess how great the risk was.

#The situation with the MLA could have been handled better #And I think that the HPSC was playing games of power #which backfired immensely in the end #bnha asks #bnha spoilers #bnha meta

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9

Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.

Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan.

*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****

*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********

Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence.

In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.

Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis.

Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).

I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.

Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.

Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans.

On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?

The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers.

The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.

The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.

“I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.”

The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.

“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.

“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading.

“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters.

“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?”

The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.

Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.

Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence.

“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.”

General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.

“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”

The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements.

An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.

Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate.

After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves.

His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.

Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.

The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery.

While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could.

A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing.

Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.

CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives.

As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:

air resistance

centrifugal force

normal space gravity

Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment

the flames engulfing the ship below him

At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey.

To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.

Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.

He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”

There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.

He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location.

It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher.

Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time.

A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened.

It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces.

Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge.

A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.

Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.

uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on

Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again

they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)

While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.

Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous.

Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.

The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?

(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)

The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see

Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.

Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark.

Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish.

Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts

Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.

With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would.

(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)

Continued Here

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starlitwishes · 3 years ago

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The Wayward Child

It was a heavy loss for the rebellion that day. They lost many in their crude ranks, including a mole that had been discovered and executed on the spot. The tavern where they met was full of somber faces--old, tired faces, tired of war, tired of grieving, tired of life.

It was a hard thing to watch, these men and woman looking so defeated.

Evan wasn’t yet old enough to drink, but he still sipped from a pint of water as he glanced down at his violin. A recent gift for his fifteenth birthday, something that came and went with a blink of an eye. He had brought the instrument to play a joyous song of victory, so confident in his own strategy that he couldn’t imagine such a defeat. He felt horrible--no matter the comfort he received from anyone else, it was his part of the plan that failed in the end. Lives were lost because of him, even when no one blamed him for it.

He bit the inside of his cheeks, fighting back tears. Soldiers don’t cry when they’re in pain. Crying was loud and obstructed your vision. No good came from it, not ever, so he forced down the urge--and the awful feelings he felt with it.

He felt numb and cold.

“What’s the point?” a random soldier said, grumbling as he chugged several gulps of a hard liquor. The whole tavern full of rebels turned to him, looking as defeated as he sounded. “We ain’t got a chance against the loyalists. Decarabian’s got a whole army. We ain’t nothin’ in comparison.”

Evan glanced around, and saw that the despair of those words spread like a plague. The light in the eyes of the other soldiers was fading fast. They were giving up.

“This is useless,” the man continued. “We ought’a give up while we’re still breathin’.”

“We can’t give up yet,” Evan retorted without much thought. His voice was loud and clear, something that echoed off of the walls of the tavern. It caught the attention of everyone else. Normally people would have crumbled under that pressure, but Evan was already used to everyone turning to him, used to having eyes on him. Still, the situation was different than his performances, and his shoulders stiffened. “We knew we’d have casualties eventually. We can bounce back from this.”

“Are you serious, kid?” The old man spat. “People died today. You get that, right?”

Evan’s lips pursed together. “Yes, I know. I am aware.”

“And you got the fuckin’ audacity to say that shit?” The man snarled. “Have some respect.”

Evan bit the inside of his cheek, staring back into his glass of water. His brows furrowed, and his grip on the glass tightened. “... I think I’m the only one who is.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me--I said, I’m the only one who is giving respect to those who have fallen.” Evan pushed back from his seat and stood, glaring at the man who started the plague of defeat, before he glared at everyone else. “All of you--All of you, are you really willing to give up? To say they died for nothing?” Evan growled. “If we give up now, then they really did die for nothing. They died for a cause we didn’t believe in--that we weren’t willing to die for ourselves. Are we really that much of cowards? And here I thought you were soldiers!”

None of the older men and women were able to look up at Evan, shame draining their faces. Yet the hope didn’t return to their eyes--it only masked their despair.

“We may have lost today, but we’ve had victories too! To exclude what we’ve accomplished after all of this time because we had a loss is disrespectful for those who gave their lives to fight for our freedom!” He snarled. “Did you all not know what you were signing up for when you vowed to fight this war? Did you all naively believe we would win without any hardships?!”

When no one challenged him, when their voices were all too quiet to speak for themselves, Evan was always the one to speak for them. In songs of rebellion, in songs of battle.

He looked to his violin again. Well--if they needed a song, he was going to give it to them.

Snatching up the instrument, Evan stormed over to the tavern’s stage, and climbed up onto it.

“I wanted to play a song after our victory,” he admitted to the crowd now staring at him. “But I think we need a different kind of song.”

He raised up the violin by the neck, settling it onto his left shoulder and drawing his bow to the strings. He played a few notes, a slow melody to start. The slow notes soon sped up into a harsher melody, however--something chaotic, something filled with determination.

When he stopped playing, however, he raised his head off of the chin rest to sing;

♪ “Some call us heroes and some call us fools,” ♪ ♪ “And all say we’re destined for defeat.” ♪ ♪ “But damn their eyes, if I must die--” ♪ ♪ “At least I can do it on my feet!” ♪

His voice was loud. Stern, loud, confident, determined and cold. As he sung, he started pointing the bow of the violin at the patrons of the tavern, his eyes glowing in the moonlight.

♪ “The bitter old king and his sick regime,” ♪ ♪ “Have pushed us all beyond the edge--” ♪ ♪ “We’re brutal and cruel as we battle his rule,” ♪ ♪ “For we learned from the tyrant’s tutelage!” ♪

He paced around the stage, slightly frantic but somehow in a rhythm. His voice remained even, and bounced off of the stone walls and the wooden floors. The echo made his voice boom louder than any cannon of war.

♪ “Now’s our chance, choke down your pain--” ♪ ♪ “We can end this bastard’s reign!” ♪

♪ “The battle line’s drawn,” ♪ ♪ “All hope forlorn.” ♪ ♪ “Prepare your souls--” ♪ ♪ “There’s no happy ending in sight for us!” ♪

There was a sharp hiss in that last line before he started playing the violin again, rougher and louder than before. He even started to dance as he played, even if it was only for a brief moment. The performance was working, however--the lights that had left the soldiers’ eyes were returning, slowly but surely.

They needed to be reminded of what they were fighting for--and what they were willing to give in order to get it.

He started singing again, his voice getting louder and louder as he did;

♪ “Listen you people and hear my words.” ♪ ♪ “To discard the voice of our lord,” ♪ ♪ “We rebels descend, let’s make an end,” ♪ ♪ “Of them: cannon and bullet and knife and sword!” ♪ ♪ “And lay down your lives to defeat your king,” ♪ ♪ “We’ll shore up the walls with the loyal dead--” ♪ ♪ “Spill your blood in a crimson flood,” ♪ ♪ “The wolves of war shall soon be fed.” ♪ ♪ “Now their backs are to the wall,” ♪ ♪ “Stand your ground, we shall not fall!” ♪

♪ “We go to war,” ♪ ♪ “With tooth and claw.” ♪ ♪ “Prepare your souls--” ♪ ♪ “There’s no happy ending in sight for us!” ♪

His music and song filled the air, drowning out the doubt and despair that once clouded it. Yet it wasn’t hope that filled their eyes in replace of that despair, but something different. Something accepting, yet determined.

Fight. It was the will to fight that sparkled in their eyes. Fight for freedom--all the way until their dying breath.

♪ “So reload your rifles and whet your blades,” ♪ ♪ “The midday sun calls us to fight--” ♪ ♪ “Our sacrifice shall be the price,” ♪ ♪ “Of doing our duty for what is right!” ♪

One of the patrons interrupted his singing to shout; “I’ll fight, for Gerald!”

Another stood, pint in his hand, raising it to cheer; “For Oswald!”

“For Adele!” A woman cried out.

“For my wife, Agnes!”

“For my sons and daughters!”

“--And for their future sons and daughters!”

Their determined cheers emboldened him, and Evan continued on with his song;

♪ “The names of our fallen shall long be sung,” ♪ ♪ “In ballad and poem for years untold!” ♪ ♪ “Let’s end the tale, we must not fail!” ♪ ♪ “Be stalwart and true, my heroes bold!” ♪ ♪ “There’s no refuge for defeat,” ♪ ♪ “No surrender, no retreat!” ♪

“No surrender, no retreat!” The soldiers echoed, all of them raising their glasses to Evan on the stage. His movements became a bit more chaotic and light, yet even with their smiles and cheers, there was no joy in their promises. There was only a drive--a fire burning in their chests, ready to take on the entire world.

The violin’s notes became more frantic and chaotic. There was no joy in this song. There was no joy in that room. And yet, they were smiling--Evan was smiling.

Their hearts rose and sank all at once. There was no hope, but there was determination.

Fire. They were igniting the tavern--so bright that it threatened to burn their souls into ash.

As he sang, they continued to cheer.

♪ “The end comes near,” ♪ ♪ “Face your fear!” ♪

They cheered. They cried out. He continued to sing.

♪ “Prepare your souls--” ♪

A song of understanding. A song of acceptance.

♪ “There’s no happy ending--” ♪

A song without joy. A song that destroyed sorrow.

♪ “No happy ending--” ♪

A wayward song of blood and war. A song of pure determination and fight and fire.

♪ “No happy ending in sight for us!” ♪

There was no happy ending. There was no idealism or wishful thinking.

There was only war. War, and the freedom they fought it for.

#Drabble #is this a rebellion starter or a drabble? Yes #You can count this as a starter if you really wanna tbh #I just #really wanted to write this #V; A Boy Who Flew Too Close To The Sun #Muse: Evan

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

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Humans are weird: Orbital Strikes part 1

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

"What do you mean you will not commence the invasion!?"

The high councilor's outburst caused several of the nearby bridge crew to wince in pain. Inuly vocal cords could reach a far greater spectrum of sound waves to generate compared to human vocal cords; to which the supreme commander of united forces Victor Gobbins had learned the hard way.

United forces had fought hard the last several months and had carved a deep gash into the territory controlled by the Umba Empire. Now resting at high anchor off the sentry world of Gulvan IV, the final stronghold standing between allied forces and the Umba home system, the united forces had gathered aboard the flagship Orion's Belt to decide the fate of the upcoming invasion.

The leaders of the various species each put forward a plan ranging from a wide spread global invasion from multiple landing sites to a single massive wave of troops sweeping across the planet. Casualties were predicted to be heavy as the Umba people's warrior culture engrained into them at birth had created one of the universes most proficient militaries. The body count pushing this far had already been near morale breaking and had it not been for the increasing stream of supplies and manpower from humanity the offensive would have ground to a halt three systems ago. This factor was one of the main reasons a human was, begrudgingly, placed as the supreme commander as it was the only way to ensure their continued support. So it was somewhat surprising when after hearing all of the various plans Victor announced that he would not be launching the invasion at this time.

High Councilor Veemen was particularly vocal with her objections to which only now after several moments did Victor and his crew regain a measure of their hearing.

"Admiral Brea," the supreme commander said without even bothering to acknowledge the high councilor, "bring our ships into line with the Orion at the front."

The admiral nodded and began relaying orders to the fleet. A flurry of ships icons began moving across the display in response to her orders.

"So you do plan to begin the invasion then." Victor turned to see the high councilor looking at him with an expression of smugness and gloating plainly written across her face.

"In due time councilor, in due time." His lack of stating her full title was one of the easiest ways to get under her skin and he fondly used it regularly.

"Communications, send out a message on all frequencies requesting communication with the Umba leadership."

"What is your plan?" the High councilor asked, but before she could get a reply the communications officer broke in.

"We have communication; patching it in now."

The large screen of the bridge cut away from ship deployments and shifted to reveal the striking visage of their foe.

"I am Lopono Vak, sentinel lord of Gulvan IV."

Victor stood and presented himself; his clean pressed uniform and adorned medals making for a powerful image of authority.

"I am the supreme commander of the united forces Victor Gobbins."

The Umbaan regarded Victor in silence as this was no doubt the first time the Umba Empire had seen the face of the man who had orchestrated the downfall of their recent holdings.

Lopono nodded to himself as if satisfied and continued. "I shall say this once supreme commander Gobbins; surrender to me or face your destruction."

Victor stood silently as Lopono continued. "The Umba fleet is already enroute and should arrive here within a week." This remark caused some of the leadership behind Victor to gasp as though their fleet was substantial it was not enough to slug it out with the full might of the Umba navy. This did not appear to phase Victor however and he calmly continued as if nothing was amiss.

"Why are you sharing this information with us? Surely it would have been more beneficial for you to let us begin our invasion and then attack us with our ground forces already engaged on the planet."

Lopono's mouth opened for what Victor assumed was a smile. "You have shown yourself a worthy foe, and such deceitful tactics are unbecoming of the Umba Empire."

Now it was Victor's turn to smile and surprisingly he tilted his head to the monitor. "You have my respect for such honorable behavior and so I feel it only kind to return the favor." A subtle nod from admiral Brea off screen was given before he continued.

"The sun should have just set in your capital yes?"

Lopono looked confused. "It has."

"Then I give you until the rising of it again to surrender to the united forces."

Everyone surrounding the supreme commander went silent save for the grutal chuckling of Lopono.

"And pray tell, why would I surrender when I know you will be defeated in a week?"

"Because within the next twenty hours you will be defeated sentinel lord," Victor said as he kept the grin, "we'll keep the line open for your reply."

Before Lopono could respond Victor motioned his hand and the transmission was cut.

"Admiral you may commence firing."

With that the admiral began issuing a series of crisp orders to the bridge crew that were in turn relayed to the entire fleet.

"Are we not going to talk about what you said?" Once again the high councilor cut in over the chatter of the bridge. "How do you plan to make them surrender in a single day?"

Victor turned to face the councilor for the first time, his eyes unimpressed with what he saw.

"Tell me, have you ever seen what a bombard cannon does to an enemy capital ship?"

The question was seemingly random but the high councilor recovered quickly.

"It bursts the shields and crumples the armor as if it was made of stone; what of it?"

Victor tilted his head to the display showing a line of ships now tracking the rising dawn on the planet below. "And have you ever seen what happens when a bombard cannon is fired against unshielded and non-reinforced materials?"

Before the councilor could answer a strong shudder ran through the ship. The outside void of black space lit up for a moment and a series of bright trails appeared and were now pulling away fast from the ship. From the view screen a series of red icons were likewise being shown from every ship that had formed up in the combat line.

"This was your grand plan? To fire on the surface and force them to surrender?!"

The supreme commander sat down and watched from the view screen as the bombard shells rapidly cut through the planets atmosphere, hurtling towards the surface with ever increasing speeds.

"When the people of Gulvan IV see the light of the rising sun they shall also be witness to their destruction." The first shells impacted the surface and even from orbit the light of their detonation was bright enough to be seen. "By the time the sunrise reaches the capital it will have been twenty hours and they will fully know what is coming for them."

"But where is the honor in this?" The councilor protested. "Surely this is no just way to win a war."

It was the supreme commanders turn to laugh, and as he did it rarely it was an unnerving sight to behold.

"As a wise man once said, you win wars not by dying for your cause, but by making the enemy die for his."

From high anchor the fleet could see the destructive sunrise begin to wash over the planet slowly as more and more shells were fired towards the surface.

"They will surrender, or be buried in what is left of their world."

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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shouldntcryoverit · 3 years ago

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the art of discordance

captain rex x jedi!reader

previous chapter

masterlist

CHAPTER TEN

Hope you enjoy! Might start this series up again so let me know what you’d like to see and if you’d like to be tagged! ��

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Jaida’s feet felt weighted as she plodded along the corridor. In fact her entire body did. She needed caf and, among other things, she needed peace and quiet.

But alas, as is the way of war, she’d have to settle with yet another delinquent briefing, which would most likely result in another mission for her to loose herself in. How fun.

Peace wasn’t an option as of right now, but caf certainly was. So as any ordinary Jedi going through dramatic changes to their moral code while fighting a war which had so far gone against everything they had ever been taught by their now dead master; Jaida went and got caf.

Now she stood outside the war room, significantly late, but with a half drunk cup in her hand. On any regular day, she would’ve surely rushed in; profoundly apologising for her misconduct and directing all her attention to any matters presented to make up for her tardiness.

But instead she stood and stared at the uninspiring, off-white and dented plastoid door with almost a scowl. After a second, she took a swig and entered.

“Jaida! I was wondering if you had gotten lost.” Obi-wan smiled warmly. There was a hint of a jeer in his aristocratic tone.

“Oh force I really am late aren’t I?” She tried to laugh, setting down her cup on a surface she’d found (ignoring the future ring it would leave), snapping into a character that would resemble her more awake self.

“What’ve I missed?” Jaida asked as she settled into place beside Anakin and across from Obi-wan.

The holo-projector before her displayed the usual; a barren-ish landscape with red dots across it, symbolising places she’d most likely have to risk her and her men’s lives before moving onto the next tiny red dot.

It felt fallacious to belittle that sacrifice to so little as those red dots, especially when they’d been planted like seeds as if they’re cost was unimportant. To Jaida, red dots had begun to look more like casualty reports and defeated medics; so much more than a speck on a map in a heated war room in the middle of comfortable Coruscant.

But as is the way of war, she thought.

“After the failure to capture Grievous on Salucami, we know his ships will be in this western quadrant.” Obi-wan gestured now to the map of the galaxy, the holo map had apparently changed as Jaida was blinking, and more specifically to a highlighted section of space.

Her red dots would be minuscule by now.

“Our fear is that with Grievous now in need of a place to get fuel and rations, he’ll attempt to take-over ,in effect, the next planet viable. Which in this case” The holomap zoomed into a reddish planet with a dark brown hue surrounding it, “Would be Yeon.”

“Yeon?” Jaida asked. “What’s on Yeon that Grievous could want?”

Obiwan shifted his weight before speaking. Jaida sighed; sometimes she really did regret asking questions so much, especially when the answer require a deep breath.

“Yeon used to be home to a powerful empire, though the dissolution of said empire left the planet vulnerable and corrupt. The wealth still remains, but without proper safeguarding. It isn’t unlikely that Grievous hopes to exploit this, and use their land and people to help secure more galactic wins.” He finished with a flourish. He did always make good speeches, however short or dull.

Jaida shivered. The thought of such peaceful people once again being used as pawns in the seperatist game made her stomach turn. Is this what the galaxy had come to? Perhaps that question could be answered another day.

Anakin, who had up until this point been studying his friends demeanour and desperately trying to figure out the reason for her obvious lack of clarity, spoke next.

“Our mission is to intercept their ‘invasion’ and protect the people of Yeon before Grievous can even reach them.”

“Huh, fun.” She clicked.

A few more details were flattened out, though they mostly fell on deaf ears as Jaida replayed the events of that morning.

“We’ll leave tonight, get a head start.”

Great, she thought.

The corridor felt like it would never end as Jaida carried a backpack towards her destination. It was half full of ration packs and bacta supplies: in short she had no clue what to pack for. The feeling of unpreparedness sat heavy on her chest, even as she commed Anakin to meet her in the hanger.

As she did, Echo opened the door for her, between beckoning to Hardcase that his helmet was where he’d left it. Jaida almost laughed at how mumsy Echo got the few hours before a mission; it almost matched Kix’s mother hen approach.

“Where’re we up to?” Jaida asked, hesitantly setting down the bag beside her feet as she looked over the clones all preparing for a mission.

Echo smiled softly, giving one last side eye to his dazed brothers before giving her his full attention “Almost ready.”

“Thank you.” She could always count on Echo, and a warmth spread over her expression, secure in that fact. “Where’s-“

“Hullo!” The other jedi spoke through a cracker in his mouth. “You good?”

“Where’d you get that cracker?”

Anakin swallowed. Echo had to suppress his laughter at how much they resembled begrudging siblings.

“Help me with those crates and I’ll show you.” He shrugged off, beckoning for Jaida to follow his path.

The good news was the Hardcase had managed to locate his stranded helmet, and Fives only laughed for a few minute at how he almost cried that he’d thought he’d lost it: but the bad news was that Jaida realised that she would eventually have to talk to her captain, who was standing by the edge of the hangar with Kix.

He’d showered, and his pauldron was fixed. He looked so perfectly in control as he watchfully peered over his men. Jaida felt childish almost instantly at the anxiety balled in her stomach at just the thought of having to look at his deep and piercing eyes to talk to him. This was that feeling ‘crushes’ gave you, as Anakin would explain, and Jaida didn’t get ‘crushes’. Not ever, and not now.

She began to help the clones prepare what few weapons they thought they needed. There wasn’t much to sort out and load up, but still among the Torrent company; it was a grand feat.

Jaida was counting reloads and ration packs when she sensed him. Rex, as you could quite obviously expect, was coming closer. She exhaled fiercely out of her nose and picked up the crate she’d been kneeling over. “He’s just being a captain, just be a General.” She repeated to herself like a mantra.

But when she looked up and his gaze was already on her, she froze; childish and with a crush.

“You’re coming too?” Jaida cleared her throat and asked nonchalantly, trying desperately hard to prevent a redness forming on her cheeks.

“Of course.” Rex spoke flatly. His eyebrow twitched slightly as the words left his lips, perhaps testing her meaning.

“But you’re still injured.”

Now he did raise an eyebrow, “I’ll be fine.”

Jaida kissed her teeth, slightly annoyed at her inability to calm herself now.

She nodded as no words formed on her tongue. Nothing to express the ball of emotion in her throat. The Jedi didn’t meet his eyes as she turned away.

Rex caught her arm as she went to bring her crate to the ship, but even as he stopped her pivot she was reluctant to meet his gaze.

“Jaida-” He tried.

“Don’t.” Jaida cut him off, finally glaring at him, then quickly skimming over the room to check if anyone was noticing their ‘conversation’.

“Just promise me.” Vulnerability flashed across her face as the words left her mouth, and even those crystallised amber eyes of his couldn’t make her believe he would.

Rex bit his lip and flicked back over his men across the room, before looking back at Jaida’s ask. He nodded slowly, accepting that he’d want the exact same if it were her. Whatever it was that they shared really wasn’t simple.

“I promise.”

She smiled slightly, before he let her go and she walked off to the ship.

The company left not long after, but not before Anakin and Jaida managed to bicker over who should fly the ship, then if they’d brought the right rations, then whether or not they were ready. At least it was entertaining for the clones to watch their General’s be so relaxed yet so uppity.

But nonetheless, the company all fitted into their respective places and the ship left. Jaida, after bribing Anakin, was flying the ship. She thought that it’d help her concentrate ready for the next mission, although it did also mean that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone - so, plus.

The journey was rather short, but it certainly wasn’t sweet; for each time Jaida didn’t have to plant coordinates or watch the pressure levels in the engine, her mind slipped to the events of that morning, over and over again like torture. The guilt and worry pressed heavily against her frame; it was fair to say she was absentminded.

But they made it.

“I think we’re here boys.” Skywalker spoke over the channels.

The landing wasn’t rough, but Jaida’s vision through the ship window was too clouded to navigate properly through the thick air. The ship rocked as it hit the ground, and as the men filed our, their pilot was reluctant to follow.

The company gathered outside, Anakin knocked her shoulder; something he always used to do if she was nervous before a practice or exam. It made her finally exhale the breath she’d been holding onto.

It was dark when they made it to the village: a small dwelling lit with vibrant lights around each hut and structure. There was a hum in the air of content, they were peaceful people, and their laughter and chatter floated through the company like a warm drink.

Jaida wanted to welcome it, she really did, but she couldn’t, not when her head was this scrambled. She was still tired, and still torn between wanting to stay true to her morals and protect Rex, as well as desperately wanting to give in to her heart.

Mind over matter, her master would say. Though it seemed futile now.

Jaida followed her men into the village and tried once more to be content with the sweetness of the air. The sun was hanging low in the sky, but it still illuminated the tops of houses and slopes of hills in spite of the darkening hue encroaching. It was peace, the very kind she needed. Yet it would not breach her armoured skin.

The clones had managed to settle in rather quickly, having now taken off a few bits of armour and their helmets. They were standing and laughing with locals dotted about a wide fire pit, an area which Jaida took to be the market place.

After a cheer of babbling and exuberance calling for them, drums began playing in the background as entertainment; and the villagers seemed excited to have new guests for what looked like the first time in a while. They passed out food to the solidiers, colours of orange and green mixing on platters of fruits and perfectly cooked meat. After having a drank a few of their offered drinks, of which their alcohol quantity was unknown, Fives, Jesse and Hardcase danced to the beat as Echo and Kix tried not to laugh.

Jaida watched with an absent grin. She was resting on a crate with a cup of some sweet drink she’d been given by a swirling child, happy to see them so relaxed. Her view shifted from the gaggle of men to her Captain, who was laughing handsomely at his brothers’ feeble attempts. She tried to ignore the pounding in her stomach growing at how his face was illuminated so perfectly by the evening sun, and how it made her tongue swell to see him aswell so at peace. But it was rather difficult to ignore, especially when she couldn’t not-look.

Jaida placed her cup beside her and backed away, leaving the dancing and laughter behind her.

She found herself in the main hall of their largest structure, eyes closed in her own attempt at peace. She could still taste the wafting smell of meats and breads being cooked just a little further away. It smelt like herbs and spices she remembered only faintly from her own travels with her master. Jaida stood, staring at the painting on the closest wall to her when she wasn’t instead focused on her closed eyelids. Her brain was too foggy for anything else.

It was silent. Of course the base of the drums and the echoes of her men and their hosts still made their way in and out of the open windows, but it was silent to her. So silent that when footsteps began behind her she almost jumped.

The presence made it’s way to just a step behind her and paused. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it belonged to, but still, Jaida cursed her abilities to identify the warmth and security it brought nonetheless.

“You left?“ Rex’s tone was more a question than a statement, and Jaida didn’t open her eyes as he stepped and stood next to her.

“I needed to think without Fives’ dancing distracting me.” She joked in a low tone.

“You call that dancing?”

Jaida chuckled lightly at that, meeting his smiling eyeline.

A moment of warmth spread between the two. It was as if the complications of their feelings melted away for a few seconds, and both simply relished the presence of each other. But it was short lived.

“I cant think either.”

Her eyebrows were knitted in slight pain and sadness, something he recognised within his own head. She couldn’t speak.

“Do you regret it?” Rex broke the silence between them.

“What?”

“The other night.”

Jaida paused loudly, but spoke with force after a second passed. “No. I don’t. ”

Silence again.

“I don’t know what to do to make this… better.” Jaida admitted, the vulnerability in her voice making her cringe.

Jaida sighed and fixed her almost tearful expression back to that familiar neutral coldness. “I don’t even understand it.” She almost whispered.

“Neither do I.” His words were barely there. “I don’t think anyone ever does.”

“Then how do you know it’s real?” Jaida swallowed, blinking down her rising dejection.

Rex paused again, but spoke with purpose. He had been brave before, now was no different.

“Because whenever you enter the room it feels like time stops. I always look for you, like seeing you will change everything. And you know what, it does; everything stops.”

Jaida was shocked to hear the confession, and it made her heart melt when she turned to face him. His face was just as creased as hers; just as pained.

He studied her eyes for a second, almost asking for permission to continue, or even to be dared to do so. But he took in a breath and carried on:

“I knew it when we were stuck in that cave, and you fell asleep against the wall. All I could think of was how perfect you looked. Force, I don’t think you’ve ever left my head since.”

She smiled. A wilful smile that covered all of her stern face. She knew that feeling he described and it made her stomach erupt as he spoke of it.

Her words fell as a whisper once again. “I can’t ask you to risk your entire life on this. But you can’t tell how much I want to.” She spoke louder now.

Rex’s eyes softened.

“We’re at war, Jade. Some things are just worth it.” Rex paused and looked to her. Her eyes held a silent beg. “You’re worth it.” He wanted to say, but didn’t. Perhaps a part of him knew that he didn’t need to.

In the dim light, he could hardly see her face at all, but the peace that had spread across it was blindingly clear. Jaida blinked.

And Rex closed the small gap between their faces and pressed his lips against hers; tender and gentle yet proud, as if it was their first. He lifted his hand to cup her face and she melted into his touch, allowing the warmth of his mouth to thaw the cold of her heart. The kiss was acceptance, it was emotion and it was thrill.

“I’m in if you’re in.” He demurred with lighthearted intention.

Jaida smiled softly, joy in her eyes that Rex only caught glimpses of, but she caught his lips in feeble ecstasy.

She broke away with a dainty smile, and Rex laughed.

“I’m in.” The jedi whispered.

He grinned again, wider now as a perfect laugh fell from Jaida’s perfect lips.

His fingers dropped from her cheek and found hers without question, taking her hand in his as he refused to break away from her hopeful eyes.

Rex squeezed her hand, then jolted, taking her with him as he ran out of the hall and back to where the music still rumbled.

Jaida let him whisk her away, gladly.

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lokis-army-77 · 4 years ago

Text

If You Please

Chapter six

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3280

I'm bad at writing descriptions, so this is basically a reader insert into The First Avenger and then we'll see how it goes from there.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

<< Previous Next>>

Masterlist

It had been almost five months since I had left for London. Five months without Steve and nearly six without Bucky. I knew Steve had been traveling the country doing musical numbers to help sell war bonds, something I would have to tease him about later. He was here in the camp today and I had plans to go visit him when I was finished with my work. Peggy and I had been gathering intel on the movements of HYDRA, and there were signs that Dr. Zola had been using American POWs as experiments for his own super-soldier serum. We had arrived in Northern Italy about two weeks ago, there was a Hydra base a few hours away that we were keeping an eye on. We had reason to believe that Zola had moved to the base some time ago.

I was sitting at my desk scanning through some files when Peggy burst through the tent and into the makeshift office. I looked up at her questioningly. “You aren’t going to like this,” she said and handed me a small yellow telegram. I opened it and quickly read the contents.

107th infantry captured by HYDRA. Heavy casualties. Azzano, Italy.

I felt time stop as I read and reread those few words. Bucky was in the 107th. I quickly sprung to my feet and headed for the tent opening. Before I could cross the threshold Peggy grabbed my arm. “Let go of me Carter, I have to go save him,” I said, yanking my arm away, with little to no effort.

“Would you stop for a second?” She grabbed my arm again. “You can’t go rushing into this, you need to think carefully. You can’t just waltz into a HYDRA base by yourself, it's madness.”

“Yes, I can. Now let go of me.” I yanked my arm out of her hold and reached over to the coat rack next to the opening of the tent and grabbed my jacket. It had started raining an hour ago and the dirt paths had become small pools of mud but I didn’t care. I ran quickly through the rain toward the stage on the other side of the camp, Peggy right on my tail. The mud made it harder to run as fast as I wanted to, I had almost fallen twice. When I made it to the stage no one was in sight. I jogged around to the back and looked all over until I saw Steve in a corner with his sketchbook in hand.

“Steve,” I called out, quickly making my way to him. He looked up from his sketch and smiled at me.

“Hey Kid, I didn’t know you were here. It's good to see you.” he walked toward me and gave me a hug, which I returned but abruptly pulled away. He gave me a concerned look when I stepped back. “What's the matter? You usually like my hugs.”

“Steve now really isn’t the time for hugs. We just received a telegram, Bucky's regiment has been captured by HYDRA. I’m not sure if he was captured with them but if he was I’m going to get him and I need you with me.” I watched as his eyebrows furrowed. His face contorted with emotions. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the stage tent and soon we were running to Colonel Philip's tent.

Steve barreled into the tent and went up to Colonel Philips. “I need to see the casualties list from Azzano.”

The Colonel looked up from his desk and shook his head at Steve. “You don’t get to give me orders boy. Now go on,” he said and started to go back to what he was doing.

“I just need one name, Sir. Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.”

Colonel Phillips' eyes widened a bit and he looked at Peggy and me. “I’m going to have a conversation with you two that you won't enjoy,” he scolded and shook his pen at us.

I stepped forward to be beside Steve. “Sir, we just want to know if he’s alive,” I pleaded.

“His name is B-A-R-” Steve started to spell off Bucky’s last name.

“I can spell,” He spat sarcastically. He got up from his chair and paced to the table behind him. Holding up a handful of letters he stopped. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I care to admit. I'm sorry for both of you but the name does sound familiar.” I took in a small gasp of air and my face fell.

“What about the prisoners? Are you planning to rescue them?” Steve asked with more concern in his voice.

“The plan’s called winning the war.” Philips quipped out.

“But Sir. If you know where they are why” Steve was cut off.

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. I don’t expect you to understand that, because you are a chorus girl.” A thick silence could be felt when Philips stopped talking.

“I understand it just fine Sir,” Steve said in contempt.

“Then I suggest you get going. From what I understand, you have somewhere to be in the next 30 minutes.”Colonel Philips said as he walked off.

“Yes Sir, I do,” Steve replied and stormed out of the tent. I looked past where he had been standing and looked at the map that was off to the side and realized that Steve had seen where the HYDRA base was pinpointed. I ran out after him.

I caught up to him in the backstage tent where he was packing up a bag. I started to grab some of his things and helped. Peggy arrived frantically minutes later. “Are you both planning to walk to Austria?” She asked.

“Yes, If that's what it takes to save him,” I stated.

“You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead, there’s no point.”

“You don't know that.” Steve countered.

“But you can’t go, The colonel's devising a strategy, if he finds out what,” Peggy starts but Steve cuts her off.

“It will be too late if we wait around for us to win the war, I need to go now.” He grabbed his bag and headed out to one of the jeeps. I stayed behind after spotting a rack with helmets on them. I rushed over and took one with an A painted onto it and then made my way to the jeep as well. I hoisted myself up and into the passenger seat as Steve finished talking with Peggy and she climbed into the back seat. He turned to me and shook his head. “No, get out. It’s too dangerous.”

“I will not. Don't forget we took the same serum, I’m stronger than I look. I can handle it.”

“I said no. I will not be putting you in this type of situation. Even if Bucky is our friend you can't risk your life like this.”

“What and you can? He’s my fiancé and I am coming with you to get him whether you like it or not! Now drive!” I yelled angrily, crossing my arms and turning away from him. I was so angry that I hadn't even noticed what I had let slip.

“Did you just say, fiancé?” I remained silent. I wouldn't talk to him until he calmed down and drove. He sighed and turned the key when he realized that I wouldn't break.

Peggy directed Steve to the makeshift airport a few miles out from the camp. She had made a call to Howard Stark to have a plane ready for us when we arrived. I kept quiet the whole ride, still upset that Steve thought he could keep me from coming. He tried to ask about Bucky and I’s relationship several more times before we reached our destination but I remained silent.

It was dark by the time we arrived at the airport. Before Steve even stopped the jeep I was already jumping out of the front seat, helmet in hand, and heading to the plane that was waiting on the dirt runway. We found Howard sitting in the pilot's seat smiling over his shoulder at us.

“Thanks for your help Stark, I can always count on you,” I said as I took a seat in the copilot's chair. I looked behind me as Peggy shut the plane door and took a seat in front of Steve in the cabin.

“Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t fly you into enemy territory in the middle of the night?” He laughed out, patting my left shoulder. I shook my head and grabbed the set of headphones off the dash and slid them on as Howard started the plane down the runway. When we were up in the air. He spoke again, this time to everyone. “We should be able to get you both right at their doorstep.”

Steve looked up from his hands and called out, “Just get as close as you can.” He then went back to his conversation with Peggy.

I looked over at Howard, who was flipping a few switches. “You know, we're all going to be in some deep shit when this is over and done with. I’m so not looking forward to the very long and stern talking to from Coronel Phillips.”

“Oh don’t worry, he’ll get over it. Especially if you bring back the soldiers and destroy the base. And technically I’m not here, so unless you can give him proof that I'm flying, I’m still in my private lab.”

“You always have a plan to get out of trouble don’t you Stark?” I questioned.

“Mostly,” he replied. Some time passed before he called out, “We’ll be over the drop zone in ten.”

I gave an assertive nod and took my headphones off and placed them back on the dash. Then I grabbed the helmet from beside my feet and secured it on my head.

“Also took the liberty of bringing a couple pistols and ammo for you, Peggy said you didn't have time to gather any supplies.”

I gave him a quick “Thank you” and stood from my seat and went to sit beside Peggy. She handed me the second parachute and I quickly put it on. I reached over to where two pistols in a belt holster were laid out on the seat and brought them closer to me. I undid the clasp that held the belt together and brought it around my waist. I looped the strap through the metal frame and pulled it taught. “I’m all ready,” I reported to nobody in particular.

“Okay then, Here’s the transponder, you’ll need to activate it when you’re ready. It will let us know your location,” Peggy said while handing a small almost palm-sized black box over to Steve. He turned it around in his hands for a second before he called out to Howard to ask if it worked.

“It’s been tested more than the both of you, it should,” Howard called back.

Then out of nowhere we were being shot at. We weren’t even five minutes away from the drop site. Howard started dodging bullets, making the plane shake from the harsh movements. Steve suddenly got up and threw the cabin door open. A strong gust of wind went through the plane, knocking me back into my seat.

“Stop, We're taking you all the way in!” yelled Peggy as Steve got ready to jump out.

“As soon as I'm clear, turn around and get the hell out of here!” he yelled back at her. I started to make my way over to the open door when Howard made another sharp jerk, I braced myself with my feet spread and my hands pressed to the top of the plane.

“You can't give me orders,” Peggy called out over the wind.

Steve just shook his head and said “Yes I can, I'm a captain.” Then he jumped out into the gunfire. I stepped closer to the door and took a deep breath.

“Be careful and don’t die.” Peggy gave me a pat on the back and then I jumped.

I closed my eyes and could hear the wind rushing past my ears. I could feel how cold it was on my face. I let out the breath I was holding then pulled the string to deploy my shute. The wind caught in it and I jerked up. This time Instead of free-falling I was floating down rather peacefully, considering that there were guns being fired in my general direction, but that didn’t last long. The shots followed the plane as it flew further away. I spotted Steve as he descended into a small clearing in the dense forest and maneuvered my parachute to follow. I put my legs out in front of me as I got closer and closer to the ground to get ready to catch myself.

When my feet hit the ground, I leaned back so my momentum wouldn’t flip me head over tails. I skidded to a stop and hastily unclipped my parachute from my back and stood up. Steve motioned for me to follow him into the tree line, and I did.

We walked for almost five minutes when we came upon the outside fence of the HYDRA base. It was crawling with guards walking the grounds. I ducked down behind a tree as several large trucks drove up the dirt road beside us.

I looked to Steve and whispered, “What are we gonna do now?” I saw Steve eye the last truck in the line.

“I’ve got a plan. Follow me.” He slowly got up from his crouched position and ran to catch up with the last truck, jumping into the back. I followed closely behind him and jumped into the back a moment later, landing headfirst into Steve's back.

“Ow, you couldn’t have gotten out of the way?” I fussed as I readjusted the helmet on my head.

“How was I supposed to know you’d come barreling in straight into my spine. I'm the one that should be saying ow.” He argued back. I pushed him out of my way and looked around, my eyes soon landed on the two HYDRA guards sitting at the other end of the truck.

“Uh, hi,” I mumbled. Then within a second, they were both up out of their seats reaching for Steve and me. One of them put their hand on my left shoulder and I grabbed it with my right hand and twisted. I kneed him between his legs when he fell to the ground I gave him a good kick to the head, knocking him out. Reaching down, I grabbed him by the collar and threw him out onto the road along with the guard that Steve had taken down.

I heard talking as the truck drove through the gates of the base. I felt us slowing down and pretty soon the truck jerked into reverse. We both waited in silence to see what was going to happen. I heard some footsteps coming closer to us. Steve, also hearing them, moved over to where the tarp-covered the back of the truck and positioned this shield in front of him. A guard lifted the tarp up and Steve swiftly took the guard out by hitting him with the shield. I came up beside him and stuck my head out and looked both ways, making sure no one would see us leaving the truck.

“This way,” I whispered as I jumped from the back of the truck. “I know where they probably keep the prisoners.” We headed out into the large open yard where several vehicles were being kept. Carefully maneuvering past stationary and moving guards we made our way to the back of the main building. “They’ll be keeping them in the lower levels. There should be several staircases leading to the main basement level out here, we just need to find one.” I said over my shoulder to Steve who was directly behind me.

It took no time at all to find one of the staircases and descend into the darkness. I spotted a door at the bottom of the stairs and went to open it but it was locked. I looked over to Steve who moved in front of me to look through the window of the door. He tapped on it twice and when the door was opened by a guard he slammed it onto the man's head. The man fell to the ground unconscious and I nimbly slipped over him and through the door. Reaching to my right thigh I grabbed the pistol out of the holster. They were only to be used as a last resort, but with this building being as big as it was, there was no telling what trouble we would run into.

Steve took the lead onto the large factory floor. We passed hundreds of what I assumed to be nuclear bombs, which were in various stages of development. I couldn't believe my eyes. HYDRA had been able to make multiple high-tech bombs and back in the states, the Manhattan Project was still ongoing. We kept walking until an unmanned workbench came into sight. There was a glowing circular ring on the table, surrounded by what seemed to be high-tech hand grenades. Steve and I both grabbed one, looked at it, and then shoved them in our pockets.

“Steve, I think the entrance to the basement cells is this way,” I whispered, pointing over to a set of stairs a few feet away from us. We sprinted to them and started down. After making it down three flights the stairwell opened up to a large dark room with bared holes in the floor. “This is where they are being kept. There’s one guard in here, so you take him and I’ll go down to the next floor.” Steve nodded. Slowly he crept up behind the guard and I turned to go down to the next floor where the cells were located. I heard the guard fall and the jingle of keys as Steve took the guard out.

“Throw the keys down and I’ll start unlocking the cells,” I called out and jogged down the line of cells to where Steve stood, staring down through the bars. He tossed the keys down to one of the men and they handed them to me after I put my pistol back in its holster. I unlocked a few of the doors before I took the other keys off the chain and handed them out to some of the soldiers so they could help free the others faster. When they were all out of the cells I made my way to where Steve was.

“Is there anyone else? We’re looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” Steve questioned the men around him.

The one in a red beret spoke up, “There’s an isolation ward somewhere here in the factory, but no one has ever come back from it.”

“Okay men, the tree line is northwest, about 80 yards past the gates, after that follow the creek to the clearing. You need to get out fast. We will meet you there when we get everyone we can find out,” I order out to the group of men.

“Do either of you know what you’re doing?” asked one of the men at the front.

“Sure we do, I’ve knocked Adolf Hitler out over 200 times.” Steve started then turned to run back to the stairs and I followed suit.

Tag list:

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

@underc0vercryptid-reads

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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phantom-curve · 4 years ago

Note

kiss prompts: 17, 21, and 36 for Juke!

Me: I'll write some coney island Juke for Shelly! Also me: *writes this angst heavy scene that showcases the breakdown of their relationship in that AU*

I swear I didn't mean for this to hurt so much, but I'm gonna go ahead and blame it on the prompts. Taking place before the events of did I shatter you? here is the first time Luke makes a promise he can't keep.

#17: kisses as a promise #21: "we'll face this together" kisses" & #36: kissing away tears

(I'm not gonna rate this for angst but this is your last official warning that there is no happy ending to this scene unless you're willing to slog through the emotional baggage of the fic that follows it!)

also available on ao3!

There were piles of confetti and champagne bottles scattered across the main floor of their house, the trash decorating the hardwood with pastel patches and sticky puddles. Fog hung suspended from the ground, leaking in through the windows cracked open by the smokers the night before. Colorful streamers spiraled down from the ceiling, limp and listless in the still morning air. The depressing remnants of what should have been one of the greatest nights of their lives strewn about like cobwebs in an abandoned house.

Julie carefully picked her way around the mess, dragging a trash bag along in her wake as she slowly collected various reminders of the night before into the black plastic. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, passed out in a mess of wilted limbs with a small amount of drool collecting underneath his right cheek. He had been in a mood all night. Julie had left him to his own devices around 2:00 am when the last of the party guests had been shooed out the door, and he had never made it to bed. That made three nights in a row since he’d last slept next to her. One night in the studio, one night over at Reggie’s apartment, and now last night on the couch.

It was happening again. The fractures. The distance.

She had hoped the party would help him reset. It was supposed to be a celebration, their celebration. Their big win. Their first album going platinum, a new record deal, an almost sold-out international tour. All of their wildest dreams coming true. It wasn’t enough. Because Bobby Wilson had beaten them to every milestone.

It didn’t matter that Bobby’s fame was mostly burning itself out recently. His family had plenty of money to keep him relevant enough that he was always in their periphery somewhere. It didn’t matter that their band was becoming more and more successful with every passing year. They had fought for every bit of recognition, earned it through blood, sweat, and tears. And always there was Bobby in the background, haunting their every step, like a curse they couldn’t break no matter how hard they tried. Julie was exhausted. Constantly fighting the ghost of what could have been while trying to keep the band they did have alive and well was draining all of her energy lately.

Luke wasn’t much better. The anger that always seemed so close to the surface overtook him now more often than it had before. Like the more successful they became, the angrier he was that Bobby had gotten there first. She had stopped trying to tell him it wasn’t a competition. To him, it always would be.

“Jules?”

His voice was rough with sleep, blurry around the edges as he peeked his eyes open to watch her collect discarded plates and cups. It was impossible to be upset with him like this. He was always softest in sleep and the moments just after waking up. It was easier then, to remember that his tough outer shell housed a heart made of glass, already cracked and damaged from the betrayals he had suffered at the hands of those he had loved that had claimed to love him in return. Julie never wanted to add a crack of her own, always mindful of the trust he had placed within her hands when he offered his love to her, so fragile and fleeting she still felt blessed by its presence, even in their darkest moments. She let the bag drop slowly, careful not to rattle the bottles against the floor.

“Hey. How’s your head?”

Luke frowned, carefully propping himself up on an elbow as his eyes began to open fully, studying the mess of destruction that had left been behind by the partygoers, slowly illuminated by the sun cresting above the hills to the east. Studying Julie herself, outlined by that same rising sun, breakable soul with limbs of porcelain that felt stretched to the limit of their fragility in the pale morning light.

“Hurts. Why’m I on the couch?”

Julie’s heart ached. Of course, he didn’t remember. She shouldn’t have expected him to, not after the way he had been downing champagne in between shots of harder liquor the night before. She had two options here: she could tell him the truth and break his heart alongside her own, or she could grin and bear it like she had learned to do the first time he forgot about a drunken fight.

“Too sleepy to make it to bed, I guess. It’s been lonely without you there recently.”

She couldn’t resist the last little dig. Luke was hurting, sure, but he was hurting her in the process of dealing with his own pain, and she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Luke’s frown deepened.

“Did Alex...get mad at me? Why did Reggie leave so early?”

Alex had gotten mad. Reggie had left early. Julie wished Luke had forgotten those moments, too. She moved to sit on the edge of the couch. Luke, softened by confusion and his hangover, leaned to drape his body against hers. The contact was soothing, his weight heavy and reassuring against her side. Julie kept her tone calm and steady.

“Someone made a stupid remark. You got upset. Flynn took care of it.”

Thank God for Flynn. The dumb intern that had made the quip about Bobby had promptly been removed from the party, but Luke had heard it, and it had been the beginning of the end of what had originally been a good night. Luke sighed heavily, his breath hot against her skin. Julie shivered slightly.

“I’m sorry, Julie.”

Luke’s voice sounded genuinely regretful. Julie didn’t doubt that he was sorry. He was always sorry.

“I know. I love you, Luke.”

She let her arms curl around his back, fingertips hooked into the large cut open sides of his tank top so they rested lightly against the curve of his ribcage there, his heartbeat humming strong and steady beneath her touch, his lungs only stuttering slightly as they worked to pull in a deep breath. Luke’s own arms moved around her waist, pulling her close as his face dipped into the hollow of her neck.

“I love you, too. So much. I don’t deserve you.”

He offered his statement like another apology wrapped up in different words. Julie accepted it as such, moving one hand to sift softly through his unruly, overgrown hair. Luke nuzzled into her touch like a cat seeking comfort after being rightly chastised. They were silent for a long moment, and then Luke stiffened slightly.

“I said you were just like my mom last night, didn’t I?”

The horror and disgust were clear in the way Luke breathed the words out against her neck in starts and stops, like he didn’t want to believe it but couldn’t deny the memory. Julie felt tears spring to her eyes. That wasn’t exactly what he had said, but it was close enough.

You’ll never understand or care about how much this kills me! You’re just like she is!

As if Julie Molina and Emily Patterson even came close to living on the same plane of misunderstanding Luke. She knew it was mostly the booze talking, but sometimes it was hard not to think about that stupid adage involving drunken minds speaking sober thoughts. Luke tightened his grip around her hips, pulling her as close as he possibly could like if he was able to ground her in this physical moment the memories of the night before wouldn’t feel so sour in the back of her throat.

“I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it. You’re nothing like her.”

Luke’s words were wet with the tears she could feel tracking down his cheeks to pool in the space between her shoulder and collarbone. Julie knew he didn’t mean it. He never meant it. He just also never remembered that until he was faced with it in the cold, sober light of the following day. It didn’t make the words sting any less.

“I know,” she repeated, lips buried in the top of his head, so the words were muffled against the kisses she pressed into his scalp.

Luke pulled his face out of the home it had found against her skin. His nose trailed a soft line up the side of her face, the sensation gentle and soothing, a whisper of how things were meant to be. Julie turned to meet his lips with her own, the kiss wet and salty through their combined tears. It was the quietest whisper of apology and reassurance that could be offered. Julie could feel every hurt and battle Luke had fought behind the caress of his mouth against her own; every moment of self-loathing he had suffered for the pain he had inflicted against her. It didn’t soothe as much as he wanted it to, some of his hits had burrowed too deeply under her skin for that, but she couldn’t help but cling to the promise of better days that he was trying to push them towards. He didn’t lash out because he wanted to wound her. She simply always seemed to be caught in the crossfire, a casualty of a war she had never signed up for.

“I’m so sorry, Julie.”

She felt his lips form the words against her own, swallowed his penance down like it didn’t taste like poison as it seeped into her system.

“Please, don’t leave me. I’ll be better, I swear.”

And there it was. The assurance she had known was coming. She had expected those words. Luke had said them before. She just knew better than to believe them by now. But the part of her that wanted to, the part of her that desperately begged her to, allowed them to lay like a dirty bandage over the scratches he had left behind the night before, sinking into her open wounds with a kind of dodged determination that only viruses seemed to possess.

“I love you.”

It was all she could offer. She loved him. For all the bad days and bitter words, she loved him. She had loved him for longer than she had known possible. She had loved him through every stormy day and through all the sunshine as well. It was written into her DNA at this point, an indisputable fact. Luke could cut her over and over again, and she would still love him, just as he loved her.

“I love you, Jules. Bobby doesn’t get to take this from me, too. I’ll always love you. With my last dying breath, I’ll love you, and I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be better. You and me.”

Luke offered his pinky for her to hook her own around, the feeling of their fingers interlocking grounding her more than it had any right to.

“Always and forever,” Julie breathed, forehead falling to rest against Luke’s as she finished the vow they’d been promising to each other since the day Julie had joined The Phantoms, a promise that had existed even before their romantic relationship.

Luke leaned past their intertwined fingers to press his lips to hers once more, sealing the deal with a kiss. A way to say we’ll get through this, you and me against the world, even though he wasn’t able to articulate it verbally. Julie let her own lips meet his in equal agreement, I’ll be here, I’ll love you through it all, forever, forever, forever, until there was nothing left but the potential of brighter tomorrow, the unpleasantness of the night before washed away in the dawning of a new day.

It wasn’t until later that night, house cleaned and Luke resting in bed next to her where he belonged, that Julie realized his words had clanged with the type of hollow echo that hid behind a promise that could never be truly fulfilled. For all his desire to fix the cracks he continued to create, at the end of a bad day, it was still Julie absorbing Luke’s emotional blows. She had been so worried about creating a fault line within his love for her, she didn’t notice when the first major fissure in their relationship was created by Luke’s hands alone.

For all of her willingness to bleed herself dry, she never stopped to think about what would happen when there was nothing left to give.

#mads writes #kiss prompts #Shelly please don't hate me for this😅#I really woke up today and chose pain huh?#did I shatter you?#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jatp fic #juke fic #jukebox #julie and the phantoms fic #palina

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four-loose-screws · 4 years ago

Text

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 5, Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 5: Fog of War

"Alright, that should do it! You'll probably be in pain for a while, but so long as you don't push yourself, you'll eventually be able to walk again." Ephraim said cheerfully and finished wrapping a bandage around the soldier's injured foot.

He was so skilled with his hands that you'd think he wasn't a prince at all. As the grueling battles continued on, he had mastered not only combat, but also basic first aid.

Now that he was finished tending to the man's wounds, Ephraim stepped away from the injured and walked over to Forde and a few other soldiers, who were all mending their weapons under the shade of a tree.

He sat down and let out a heavy sigh. His expression was so grim that he looked like a completely different person than the one who'd just been cheerful in front of the soldiers.

"Forde, how is our food and medicine stock doing?" He whispered.

Forde's voice was also low as he answered, "Bad. Really bad. We're really low on both. We've used up almost all of our weapons, too."

"I see…" The furrow in Ephraim's brow slowly creased more and more.

Forde and Kyle, who was sitting next to him, both looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

"If we… collect… some money from the local villages, we could probably manage to get a hold of some food, but..."

He knew there was no way Ephraim could agree to what he was saying, but he tried it anyway.

As expected, Ephraim shook his head and said with conviction, "We can't do that! We can't cause trouble for the common people just because we're in enemy territory. We need to think of another way."

"I knew you'd say that." Forde smiled.

It had already been several months since Ephaim’s army left the capital to protect the border from the Grado Army’s invasion. Ephraim’s army put up a flawless fight, but was overwhelmed by the difference in power.

The number of casualties grew by the day, and now so few soldiers were left that they could easily be counted by one person. And to make matters even worse, nearly all of those remaining were injured and could hardly move.

Any normal general would cast aside soldiers that could not move, but Ephraim would never do any such thing. He would boil plants to use as medicine for the soldiers all on his own, and even carry them around himself sometimes.

Their battlefield was currently taking place near Renvall Castle, a location that was strategically chosen to build upon because it was surrounded by a lake, and was famous for having never once fallen to an enemy. For the past few days, the Grado Army had been chasing them around the area, leaving them nowhere to run but the middle of a forest.

A sense that it was likely already only a matter of time before they surrendered had begun to permeate Ephraim’s army, but their leader had not given up hope, not even now. Forde and Kyle knew that was not just a bluff, but something he firmly believed in. It was for that reason that they admired Ephraim and had served him since they day they’d become knights.

“So then, what are we going to do now, Lord Ephraim? We’re at our limit. We can’t even run around anymore.” Forde said.

Kyle also interjected into the conversation, “From what we know, the Grado Army has already invaded very far into Renais. Rumor also has it that the capital has already fallen.”

Those words from the overserious Kyle sounded even darker than everything else they were facing.

But Ephraim brushed aside their concern with confidence in his response, “Everything will be okay. My father is there, along with Seth and his unit. They will not lose so easily.”

“Even if you say that, still…”

“If you say that the capital is in danger, then that is all the more reason to start a skirmish here and draw the attention of the Grado Army. It will give Father and Eirika time to escape.”

“A skirmish, huh…?”

Was he serious? What could they possibly accomplish with such few troops left?

Forde was dumbfounded, just as anyone else would be in this situation.

“I have returned with my report.” A tired voice said from above them.

Ephraim and the knights all looked up.

It was Orson, returning from gathering information. He was a calm and composed knight much older than them. He'd been a knight for many, many years now, and had risen to the highest position of his unit.

“I confirmed the presence of Grado soldiers in many locations. A large unit has deployed from Renvall Castle. They are likely putting great effort into searching for us as we speak. It may be dangerous for us to stay here for long.”

“Mm-hmm…” Ephraim was deep in thought.

Forde argued, “We’re at our limit, right? It would be best for us to retreat to the capital and regroup.”

“...No.” Ephraim stood up. The words he uttered were a complete surprise. “We will continue to march, and conquer Renvall Castle.”

“What!?” Forde and Kyle said in unison. Even the calm Orson’s eyes widened in shock.

Forde stood up as well, and looked in the same direction that Ephraim was. The impenetrable Renvall Castle was white as snow, striking fear into the hearts of any who dared to try challenging it.

"A-Are you sane, Lord Ephraim? What are you thinking, suggesting such a foolish plan…?"

"Hey! Watch your mouth!" Kyle quickly stood up and jabbed Forde in the side. He was always strict about manners, no matter the situation.

Ephraim appeared to be unconcerned as he said, "That's what you think, right? The enemy will have the exact same idea. No sane person would ever think of attacking Renvall under these circumstances."

"Lord Ephraim…"

"It's not that I am desperate. Renvall is a stronghold for the Grado Army, so if it falls, then the enemy will panic. The forces marching towards the capital will probably have to divide and send some units here. If that happens, then at the very least, it should help Father and Eirika."

"Yes, that might be true, but…"

Ephraim was being true to his ideals. However, if they thought about the problem realistically, then his plan was reckless.

Forde and Kyle's expressions made Ephraim laugh. "I know it is a reckless strategy. That is why it will be a good one. The enemy won't possibly be thinking that we will attack. We will strike them while their guard is down."

"Well… no matter what path we may take, we can't run around forever. And then if we run out of supplies… Alright then, shall we try it?" Forde said. When he looked at Ephraim's face, he felt that he could see a glimmer of hope in his lord's expression, that they might just be able to succeed with this strategy that no one would think was possible.

Ephraim announced with confidence in his voice, "I do not pick fights that I cannot win. Trust me."

"Yes, Milord!" Forde and Kyle nodded.

'Jeez, what a strange person he is.' Forde could not help but think.

This war marked his first experience with real combat, yet somehow, Ephraim knew how to fight extremely well. He was astonishingly optimistic, but also not to be underestimated. There were aspects of battle that only Ephraim could see.

They had a chance to win this battle. No, they would win. Ephraim inspired that feeling within him.

Forde looked up at Renvall Castle, which he could see through the gaps in the trees, in a completely new light.

Just as Ephraim had predicted, the defenses at Renvall Castle were light.

The enemy was focused solely on chasing them, and was not even thinking about protecting the castle. The gate only had a few soldiers surrounding it, and even they had their guards down.

These guards, so relaxed they did not even have their weapons in their hands, flew into a panic at the surprise attack. The way they scrambled to find their weapons was even comedic. Ephraim’s army broke down the gate with ease, and invaded the castle grounds.

“Are you alright, Orson?” He noticed how pale the knight was, and it concerned him. “Your wounds from our last battle haven’t healed yet, have they? Don’t push yourself.”

“Understood…”

“Let’s go!” Ephraim readied his lance and rushed straight into the group of enemies.

Forde and Kyle eagerly followed along after him. Orson sighed deeply and prepared to protect them from behind.

With the soldiers having been taken advantage of with their guard down, Renvall Castle fell into complete chaos. There were even panicking soldiers who didn’t understand at all what was going on.

Ephraim swung his lance as if he was a rampaging angry god, cutting down any enemy soldier who tried to stand in his way, which put immense pressure on the Grado Army, who should have been the superior side in this battle. Since they’d had no interest in trying to defend the castle, the result was clear. Those on Grado’s side gradually fell, and Ephraim’s army was unyielding in their assault. They didn’t let up for even a moment.

When Ephraim's army rushed into the throne room, with Ephraim leading the charge, all that was left of the Grado Army was the unit’s commanding officer and the handful of soldiers surrounding him. Every single one of their faces stared at them in disbelief. The commanding officer yelled “Come at me!” with a determined look on his face, however, his soldiers’ movements were stiff.

When he was defeated, Ephraim’s soldiers all shouted out a victory cry.

However, Ephraim did not rejoice, rather, his expression stiffened. “There were more soldiers out elsewhere than there were inside the castle. When they return, we will not be able to defend it with these numbers. There is no reason for us to stay here for long, so we will march for the capital as we are now.”

“Yes, Milord!” Kyle nodded.

Just then, Forde ran up to him. The moment he’d seen that the castle had been seized, he'd left to watch over the perimeter.

“We’re in trouble, Lord Ephraim! The enemy has us surrounded!”

“What!?” Ephraim’s face paled. “Reinforcements? But it’s still too early…”

“What shall we do?”

Ephraim did not falter. He immediately began to stomp off. “We will escape! Dammit, so Grado was one step ahead of us after all…” He said, words dripping with regret as he exited the throne room.

Just as Forde had reported, Renvall Castle was surrounded by a large group of Grado soldiers. Their circular formation was several lines of soldiers strong. This unit was in a completely different league from the one that had been at the castle. And on top of it all, these troops were full of morale as well.

Even Ephraim could not hide his pained expression this time. Forde and Kyle were also pale, but gripped their weapons tightly, and readied themselves to protect Ephraim. They were already prepared to die in a situation like this. In their eyes was the determination to single handedly take as many enemies as they could down with them.

Across the bridge over the lake, a wyvern unit was there waiting for them. The man riding the largest, most majestic of the wyverns noticed Ephraim and his soldiers and flew down to them.

He was an eerie man with a terrifyingly coldhearted cackle. Though his face was pale, his body was well-toned. Ephraim assumed him to be the unit’s leader and faced him.

“I’m impressed! Your army is smaller than I thought. You attacked and seized the castle with these numbers? The rumors of your military prowess are true, Prince Ephraim.”

Ephraim glared at the man.

“I am Valter, the Moonstone, a general of Grado’s Imperial Army. It took a lot of effort to track you down. You just don’t know when to give up… Although I could never hate fresh prey.” Valter mocked him. His laugh was grating and sarcastic.

"But playtime is over. The palace has fallen and the king is dead. Now, you will surrender here."

"What…? Father is…?" Ephraim started shaking, but balled his hands into tight fists. He couldn't believe a word a man like him said. Surely Valter was just bluffing to crush their spirits.

Rather than press him for more information about his father, Ephraim asked Valter another question. "How were you able to surround the castle so quickly? It's as if you were able to somehow read our movements."

"I wonder. You'll figure it out eventually. It is of no concern to someone in your position. Throw down your weapons. Get on your knees, and beg for your life."

"Lord Ephraim, we'll back you up!!" Kyle quickly shouted out. He was always so calm that he was stiff and formal, and scolded Forde often for getting carried away too easily, but this time, it was him who was worked up.

However, Ephraim did not drop his weapon, instead glaring at Valter.

Valter laughed at the panicking Kyle. "Yes, writhe, you worms, writhe! Nothing is more enjoyable for me than seeing you dare to fight a hopeless battle!"

However, Ephraim did not move. Valter raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.

"I see, so you don’t really have the will to fight. Then surrender! Bleat like sheep, and beg for your lives!”

"I refuse." Ephraim answered coldly.

"What?"

"Valter, was it? I don't have time to play with the likes of you. We will rout your army and leave this castle.”

"Really?" Valter narrowed his eyes, however, the sarcastic smile vanished from his face.

"Are you telling me you're going to break through our formation? Do you seriously think you will escape from our wyvern knights? I did not think you were such a fool, Prince Ephraim."

"Say whatever you want. I do not pick battles that I cannot win." Ephraim's gaze did not move away from Valter as he asked the two knights behind him, "Kyle. Forde. You ready?"

The two answered without even a moment's hesitation.

"I have been prepared to give my life for my country since the moment I became a knight."

"It's because of moments like these that I could never quit my position as your retainer."

Kyle was stiff and Forde was lighthearted, but the two were resolute in their responses.

Valter's face twisted in displeasure. "Of course you would have two fools beyond saving following you. Then come face me, and I will teach you the difference in our power!"

"Let's go!" Ephraim called out to his soldiers, then grabbed his lance and started running.

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #nintendo #gba #game boy advance #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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The Lord of the Rings Almost Killed Off One of the Hobbits

https://ift.tt/2THdh6D

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy’s $2.9 billion collective worldwide gross and 17 Academy Award wins (one of which was for Best Picture,) certainly make a case for the 2001-2003 films being the product of a winning formula, both production-wise and plot-wise. However, the process of getting the grandiose, once-unfathomable project off the ground naturally involved producers pressuring director Peter Jackson to implement ideas often contradictory to the source material. Apparently, one such idea would have seen one of the film’s four hobbits die!

While the more loquacious half of Lord of the Rings’ onscreen hobbits, Dominic Monaghan and Billy Boyd—Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck and Peregrin “Pippin” Took, respectively—have told myriad stories about life on the set across the past few decades through interviews and the films’ insightfully entertaining DVD commentary, the duo brought new anecdotes in an interview with IGN promoting their recently launched, Rings-heavy podcast, The Friendship Onion. According to them, there was a brief period in production during which Jackson was being “pressured from above” (presumably New Line Cinema,) to sacrifice at least one of the film’s four hobbits—of course, with the other two being Elijah Wood’s Frodo Baggins and Sean Astin’s Samwise Gamgee—for a development that would clearly contradict the text of J.R.R. Tolkien’s novels.

While the identity of the specific hobbit producers wished to see relegated to taking second breakfast in the great beyond was not revealed, Monaghan offers a theory, stating, “It’s a good job that didn’t happen, because it would have been me,” he laughed. “It definitely would have. There’s no way they are killing Frodo and Sam, and the only ones that would be left would be Merry and Pippin. They wouldn’t kill Pippin because Pippin has a really strong story with Gandalf. It would have definitely been me. I think Pete quite rightly was like, ‘This is a luminary piece of written work, and we need to stick close to the text.’ So, he stuck by his guns. Yeah, I’m thankful that didn’t happen.”

Amazon’s The Lord of the Rings Series is Focusing its Massive Budget on Huge World-Building

By Joseph Baxter

Games

Dark Alliance Reminds Us We Need a Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Remaster

By Matthew Byrd

Much to the gratitude of Monaghan and Tolkien purists everywhere, Jackson won that particular battle in the end, thereby leaving the trilogy as a more authentic take on the text. However, while the notion of actually making a casualty of one of the beloved hobbits might seem outrageous to moviegoers, especially those with intimate knowledge of the Middle Earth mythos, it was actually a sound suggestion from a purely dramatic standpoint. After all, as with Bilbo Baggins in preceding story The Hobbit, the diminutive hole-dwellers from the Shire were meant to represent average people, unprepared for the travails of life away from home, who, during times of war, find bravery within themselves when thrust into overwhelming circumstances. Pertinently, with strong bonds having been forged amongst comrades during said circumstances, the loss of one yields a dramatic payoff that’s hard to resist from a narrative perspective. Notwithstanding The Fellowship of the Rings‘ fateful death of Boromir, such a death wouldn’t even be without precedence, since, in adhering to the literary lore, 2014’s The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies famously featured the deaths of the party’s two youngest, most energetic dwarves, Kili and Fili, in the climactic moments of Jackson’s prequel trilogy.

If, as Monaghan theorizes, Merry was set to be sacrificed in the name of plot pathos, then it likely would have occurred during Return of the King’s Battle of the Pelennor Fields, during which Merry—after being forbade by King Théoden—secretly joined a disguised Éowyn to participate in the Kingdom of Rohan’s horseback counter-attack against the siege forces of Mordor orcs—and later the oliphaunt-riding humans of the Haradrim—outside of Gondor. Merry’s role in the battle was the clear culmination of an arc that saw him go from a crop-thieving ne’er-do-well to sword-wielding battlefield hero, and highlighted him at his highest point. He also proved integral to the victory when he stabbed the Witch King of Angmar in the back—injuring himself in the process—which allowed Éowyn to make the iconic “I am no man” deathblow to the head, taking the enemy’s most powerful player off the board. Yet, Merry was left in bad shape by the end of the battle, found barely cognizant by a wandering Pippin in the aftermath, facilitating one of the film’s many emotional reunions. This moment could have been repurposed into Merry’s death scene, after which a perturbed Pippin would be motivated for vengeance in the ensuing, trilogy-climactic Battle at the Black Gate, thereby completing his own arc.

New Line Cinema

While Jackson had to make several changes from the source material—mostly regarding the timeframe and segments that detracted from the main plot—to make The Lord of the Rings’s chronicle-styled prose work on the big screen, he also knew that the understated narrative in the periphery from Tolkien’s extensive lore was an intangible quality that separated this mythos from other fantasy offerings. Indeed, the appendices included at the end of the novel trilogy were a consistent source of context-setting backstories that Jackson wove into the main narrative of the movies. Case in point, in the novels, the movie-prominent romance of Aragorn and Arwen was primarily told in the appendices, outside the main content. Likewise, Tolkien crafted full fates for our foursome of hobbits, including Merry, who ended up marrying Estella Bolger and becoming a key member of the Shire’s leadership as the Master of Buckland. The backstory is so extensive that it also reveals when Merry and Pippin died, after which they were entombed with honor over in Gondor, later joined by King Aragorn Elessar himself. Consequently, it would have seemed disrespectful to dismiss such extensive stories by Tolkien.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Regardless, fans of The Lord of the Rings will soon have no shortage of new onscreen content, with Amazon’s untitled prequel series—set thousands of years before the main story—currently in production and possibly set to premiere either by the end of 2021 or sometime into 2022. Moreover, an anime feature focused on the namesake of famous fortress Helm’s Deep, titled The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim, is also in development from Warner Bros. and New Line. Given the eras in which these offerings take place, fans can likely breathe a sigh of relief for poor Merry.

The post The Lord of the Rings Almost Killed Off One of the Hobbits appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3l810TY

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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crescent-quill-writings · 4 years ago

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Swaddled in a Midnight Sun

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2785

Relationship: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/ Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette

Additional Tags: Canon Era, Alternate Universe: Angels, Angel!Lafeyette, fluff, snowstorms, near-death experiences, horses

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wicked winds blowing in from the north had frozen the earth, frost-bitten the air, and brought the world to a standstill. Those who could took shelter within their homes around the hearth, waiting for the seasonal celebrations to bring relief from the permeating dark and cold of winter. The world was peaceful in its icy, permeating silence, almost beautiful, too.

Still, there was a war that needed to be fought and won.

There was an elephant among the ice and snow of the Patriot’s camp. The conversations were hushed, threatened by the violent weather whipping around them and tension so thick it could be sliced through with a bayonet.

“Do you think the war will be over in time for Christmas?”

“Doubt it. If we’re lucky the redcoats will get us before we freeze to death.”

“I just hope we don’t run out of rum before then…”

“Ay, I’ll drink to that.”

John Laurens had had enough of the morbid, idle chatter the soldiers distracted themselves with. The war could be won before Christmas, and the British wouldn’t even know what hit them. Even though the chance to turn the tides in their favour was just within reach, apparently no one had the balls to brave the elements and bring a message to Washington. It was only a little blizzard, after all. What’s the worst it could do?

With a sharp whistle that pierced through even the howling northern winds, John’s trusted steed came trotting over to him in an instant. He mounted the spotted chestnut in one swift motion, and barely a moment later they were galloping off into the dark December night.

“If you want something done right, you do it yourself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Though he was gripping the reins with all his might, John could no longer feel his fingers. His cheeks were stinging and reddened from the frost-bitten whips of wind lashing at his skin as he rode onwards. Even the forest path offered little relief from the relentless blizzard, and his steed’s heavy breaths were like a smoking gun in the sub-zero air.

“Just a little longer, girl, we’re halfway there.”

In truth, John didn’t actually know how far they had gone. With the frost on that was threatening to freeze his eyes shut and the heavy cloak of snow and darkness he could barely see ten feet ahead of him.

Despite the deep-set chill in his bones, he fought off another shiver and forced himself to focus on the way forwards. His efforts didn’t work as well as the soldier wished. Though it was just for a moment, his vision faded and his senses dulled.

In that little sliver of time, John missed the splintering of frost-bitten wood as a great fir succumbed to the season’s savagery.

John swore with a shout as his steed reared up with a shrill cry of a whinny, “Sunny- Steady, girl!”

It was no use. There was no calming the mare’s frayed nerves against the shock of adrenaline the near-death experience caused. John barely had enough in him to stay awake, nevertheless, fight for control of his horse. His frozen fingers released the reins and with a swift kick from his steed he was sent crashing into the snow.

Winded from the impact with the frozen ground, John gasped for a breath of icy air as he pushed himself onto his knees. He could only just make out the sound of the mare’s swift hooves clambering through the snow before she too was lost to the darkness.

He never realized that the cold could burn worse than the brightest of blazes. His military coat was useless against the winds that rocked him to his very core and sapped whatever was left of his strength.

“Gotta stay awake,” John whispered through chattering teeth as another shiver wracked his body, “There’s a war we need to win, people we can’t disappoint.”

But John was fighting a losing battle.

The frost of numbness that had taken away feeling from his extremities begun to permeate his whole body and mind. He tried to fight against it, and though his will to survive was strong, the winter was stronger.

For a moment, John no longer felt so cold, only tired. So tired that he could sleep forever should the opportunity ever present itself. His body ached for something to rest upon, somewhere to lay his head, and through bleary eyes, the snow beneath him looked to be a good bed for until the storm passed.

He let himself relax, slowly unravelling as he began to fall into his deathbed. He expected to feel the soft diamonds of the blizzard’s wake to meet with cheek. He expected to slip into an eternal sleep as heavy frost froze his eyes shut. That moment never came.

*~*~*~*~*~*

John wasn’t sure when the frost finally released his thoughts, but he didn’t care either. In his moment of lucidity, he focused on the secure, welcoming embrace of another. He shifted closer to them with an unintelligible sound, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed himself into their chest for every bit of warmth they had.

He whined when he felt them shift, crowding more into their space to keep them from slipping away. He felt their chest vibrate with a quiet laugh before a pair of soft lips graced his forehead.

John finally peered up at the one holding him so dearly, only to gasp at who he saw, “Gil!”

“You gave me a good scare there, mon etoile,” Lafayette spoke, and though his tone was sweet he couldn’t hide the crystalline tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Sil tu plait, for both our sakes, never do something like that again.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at the request, though it seemed his smile brought more relief to the Frenchman than he could’ve imagined. He laced their fingers together and cuddled closer, enjoying the company of his foreign companion.

“I am just happy I managed to find you in time,” Lafayette continued with a small sigh, brushing a few of John’s curls from his face. “You do not always make my job easy.”

“Gil, what are you on about?” He frowned, unable to make sense of the Frenchman’s words.

For a moment John wondered if Lafayette was real or just a trick of his mind to turn his final moments into a pleasant dream. This realization terrified him and sent his rational thought spiralling down a rabbit hole of paranoid panic. He didn’t want to go like this, he didn’t want to be another casualty to the warring weather. He wanted to survive. He needed to survive.

“Deep breaths, mon etoile, what is the matter?”

“This… This can’t be real. You can’t really be here.” I’m dying!

John pushed himself out of Lafayette’s grasp, stumbling back into the snow before managing to get himself on his feet again. He teetered under the force of the whipping winds, a deep chill seeping into his core as he tried to make sense of his reality. It was dark, it was cold, he was lost and he was alone. I should be alone…

Unable to make sense of his situation both John’s body and mind began to crash. He lost his balance, falling into the snow as he once again gave in to a wintery grave. In an instant, he was in Lafayette’s arms, held so tight he felt like the singular reason for the Frenchman to be on this earth.

“John, you mustn’t move so suddenly!” He admonishes, though his tone was undercut with sorrow as he began to cry, “If I could not bring you home safe… Mon Dieu, I would not know what to do with myself.”

There was a distinct pang of guilt in John’s chest as he stared dumbly up at the Frenchman, watching him cry. He swallowed thickly, reaching up with a shivering hand to cup Lafayette’s cheek in an attempt to calm his grief.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” He whispered, making Lafayette focus back on him and not on what could have been, “I just don’t really know what’s going on right now…”

A silent question hung in the air, one John was sure would break both his and Lafayette’s heart if he ever put to words. Thankfully, the Frenchman seemed to understand as he gave a solemn nod and a sigh before he next spoke.

“Be not afraid, mon etoile, you are well and alive,” He began to explain, placing his larger palm over John’s hand as he pressed a kiss to his tender, frozen skin, “And I am real, though I have not been entirely honest with you…”

“Whatever it is, Gil, you can tell me,” John reassured, though he could not stop the shine of fear in his eyes. It was hard not to worry about what Lafayette would say next when he still couldn’t make sense of what had already happened.

“I am not supposed to do this, but…” The Frenchman hesitated only to shake his head and find his resolve again. “It is best if I showed you.”

John opened his mouth in a question, but Lafayette only hushed him with a gentle kiss before covering his eyes with his hand.

Though he could not see, John felt the shift in the world around him. It was silent, the howling winds put to an end by only Lafayette’s will. He felt a single snowflake land on the tip of his nose, tickling him with a moment of cold as others fell in slow-motion onto his golden-brown curls.

Then, Lafayette pulled his hand away to allow John to take in the newly calmed environment. It reminded them both of how beautiful a winter’s night could be, but John was still left with so many questions. He looked to the Frenchman for answers, only to be stunned into silence from what he saw.

Shining like a midnight sun with beautiful hues of blue and speckles of gold were a pair of angelic wings resting behind Lafayette in relaxed arches. They pulled close to his body as the Frenchman gave a sheepish smile and a tilt of his head in response to John’s reaction.

“Surprise?”

“Of all things, Gil… I never thought you were this,” John trailed off as he reached to trace his fingers along the edge of one of the Frenchman’s wings, quietly admiring their delicate strength. “I guess it makes sense, though, I always thought you were too perfect to be human.”

Lafayette couldn’t help the warm, bubbling laugh that escaped him as he brought John to his feet, leaving a wing draped over his shoulders like a cloak. “It makes me happy to see you are still well enough to flirt. Come, let’s get you home.”

John could only laugh along with the Frenchman as he took his arm like a lady accepting a dance at the Winter’s Ball. He wasn’t sure if they could make it back to camp by the morning, but with Lafayette by his side, John didn’t care.

Before they could begin their hike the galloping of swift hooves sounded in the distance, sending both the angel and the soldier on high alert.

They expected to see British calvary darting through the trees ready to take them out, but instead, they were familiar, always welcomed face.

“Sunny!” John beamed at the spotted chestnut’s appearance, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes… Didn’t think I’d get to see you again so soon.”

But the mare wasn’t the only one who approached. Following close behind was another horse, a familiar-looking bay with an even more familiar rider.

Alexander barely allowed his steed to properly halt before he leapt off its back, rushing towards John and Lafayette for a desperate embrace. “You scared me half to death! Don’t you ever going riding out into a blizzard like that again, I don’t care if your life depends on it!”

“It’s good to see you too, Lex,” John replied with a weak laugh as he ruffled Alexander’s hair.

Still, as Alexander continued to ramble on John couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to Lafayette. He looked up at the angel in question, absentmindedly running his fingers through his feather down as he leaned more into the warmth of his wings.

There were so many things John wanted to ask, about Lafayette, about what this meant, about everything. He couldn’t find the words to begin, never mind the fact that the adrenaline-filled need to survived had dissolved into the calm night, leaving a sluggish fatigue in its place.

“Hush, mon petit lion… Save your sweet nothings for the morning,” Lafayette suggested with a soft smile, placing a hand on the small of each soldier’s back. “Let us get back to camp before sunrise, oui? I believe a good night’s sleep would do us all some good.”

Despite the huff that Alexander gave in response, he still couldn’t help but grin at the Frenchman’s words. He gave John and Lafayette one more squeeze before slipping out of their embrace to mount his steed once more.

Lafayette kept John under his wing as he led him over to the spotted chestnut. He let John mount first, though as the Frenchman settled behind him it was obvious he’d be taking the reins. John didn’t entirely mind, he knew that Lafayette was a good rider and frankly he was grateful to be able to spend more time swaddled in angelic feather down.

Alexander led the way home, keeping the pace at a gentle canter. Feeling safe and secure with Lafayette behind him and Alexander only a few feet away, John allowed him to slip in and out of sleep as they rode onward.

Who knew a near-death experience could be so exhausting?

“We are home, mon etoile,” Lafayette cooed quietly as he shook John awake, “As sweet as you look while asleep, I can’t imagine a saddle would make for the best mattress.”

“It’s only a little worse than the cots they give us,” John mutters with a small laugh as he slipped off of his steed’s back.

Alexander was by his side in a moment, playfully jostling John as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Said the guy who nearly took a nap in the snow. C’mon, we’ll push our cots together so we can cuddle up, it’s the best way to avoid hypothermia.”

“Be honest, petit lion,” Lafayette chided softly as he ruffled Alexander’s hair. “You are just jealous that John has been swaddled without you.”

“So what if I am? It’s not like everyone gets to be in love with a literal angel.”

As the two other soldiers shared a laugh, John began to space out from the conversation. Having an answer to one of his many questions made him remember the original purpose of his journey; a message for the general to tip the scales in their favour.

“Wait,” He murmured, stepping out of Alexander’s and Lafayette’s hold as he stops to think. “I gotta- I gotta see Washington, there’s information from the south he needs to know!”

“Hey, Jacky, take it easy,” Alexander spoke as he took John’s hand again. “His Excellency already knows, a courier came through as soon as the snow stopped. It’s all gonna be okay.”

John couldn’t quite describe his relief at the sound of this news. He let out a sigh, the last few tensions finally leaving his body.

“That means the only thing left on the agenda is a good night’s rest,” Lafayette concluded with a small smile. “Come, my tent is not far.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

John was sure it was sometime near dawn when he blinked open his eyes. He rolled over lazily and pulled the blankets closer to him, only end up sneezing as his nose was tickled by soft feather down.

He smiled, feeling Lafayette shift next to him as he fixed a few feathers that had been ruffled by sleep. The Frenchman murmured something unintelligible in sleepy gratitude as he pulled John closer.

On Lafayette’s other side, Alexander was being held the same John was; a strong arm holding him close and a wing around his scrappy frame to keep him warm.

John closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax once more in Lafayette’s care. Even in the middle of a deadly winter and a losing war, the three always found these little perfect moments when they were together. It made sense now, and knowing that he and Alexander would be safe no matter how the war went was a peace he never thought he’d know.

Who knew all it’d take was a little blizzard to feel so safe and warm.

#hamcember #Hamcember 2020 #my writing #hamcember prompt 16 #Snow Angels #Hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #Alexander Hamilton #John Laurens #marquis de lafayette #Lafayette #canon era #snowstorms #Angel AU #near-death experience #fluff #laflams

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officialleehadan · 4 years ago

Text

Flash Steel

Hello darlings and happy Wednesday! I hope you're having a good week so far!

This story was brought to you by Kyle! Thank you so much for all your support! I've had a great time with this series so far, and I can't wait to see what happens next!

Prompt: Forest Fell

+++

The invasion was stalled, and Falmarin still hadn’t decided what to do about it. On the one hand, he now knew that the humans, or at least the royal ones, hadn’t murdered his mother. On the other hand, if he suddenly retreated with no reason why, there would be suspicion.

After all, one didn’t just stop in the middle of a successful invasion. The humans were definitively not winning and Felmarin’s troops, all but a very few, still believed that the humans had forced them into a violent war without provocation.

And so, with a heavy heart, he gave the order to move forward with the invasion. With some careful finagling of orders, he had managed to avoid taking more lives than absolutely necessary, but there were still some, and each one weighted on his heart. After the second such battle, he gave the order that the invasion was to halt until they secured their grasp on the lands they had already taken. This had several benefits, the greatest of which was the opportunity to move out of his war camp, and into one of the captured keeps within his newly-conquered territory.

It was also easier to hide a human woman among many, and the keep, although captured, still housed plenty of children and their families. Elarria surprised him on the third day in the keep when she slipped into his office, clad as a servant, with a whole stack of reports in her hands. She still refused to tell him how she got those reports, which were supposed to come directly from his spymaster to Felmarin himself. Felmarin reminded himself again that proposing more than once a day was inappropriate, and did his best not to.

Vamer couldn’t keep from snickering at them whenever they were all in the same room. Felmarin had taken to throwing things at him whenever he opened his mouth.

So, things were going passably well.

“Talk to me,” Elarria said, startling him out of his thoughts. After the incident with the reports, he quietly told his bodyguards that she was his new aide, and made sure they knew to let her into his office. “You have your thinking face on, and I doubt it’s those reports.”

“The reports are concerning,” Felmarin tried for a smile and didn’t quite manage one. “Casualty reports for the latest battle. Your people aren’t giving up without a fight, and mine want to make sure they get one.”

She closed her eyes and her lips moved in a prayer for the dead. A prayer she had too much call for over the last two weeks. “Father is trying to keep the people from rebelling, but surrender is not in our blood.”

“Nor ours,” Felmarin sighed, and looked over at the sunny window seat, where Yalla was asleep, cuddled into one of his cloaks against the chill that still lingered in early spring. “I’m working to slow our progress to a crawl, but it’s not enough. Unfortunately, the news of your capture has worked a little too well. Whole towns are rallying to your name.”

“Blast,” she muttered, and set her current pile of papers aside to consider him seriously. He was really unreasonably flattered that she refused a desk of her own, and chose to share his instead. “The spy you put on Father did what we hoped. He’s sending us copies of all of Father’s letters, including the ones coded for us.”

“Any sign that the code has been broken?” That was an ongoing concern. Avorhain was doing his best to work with them as he rooted through his own shattered army for the traitor that forced their kingdoms to war, but he wasn’t very good at spy-work himself. “Did you already decode it?”

She passed a sheaf of parchment over, her father’s letter, with the real message, translated into the margin by Elarria herself.

“It’s a game we used to play when I was a child, so it should be alright,” she explained. “Certain words translate to certain other words if the word before them has a specific meaning, or ends with a specific letter.”

“Is that why all his letters are so damned archaic? His grammar gives me hives and I don’t even speak your tongue as a first language.” Felmarin had noticed the king’s habit for strange, ramb,ling letters well before the war began. He always suspected there was a code in them somewhere, but his best code-crackers had tried and failed to break them. “I’m sure he would be pleased to know what a headache he gave me.”

“Probably,” Elarria told him and couldn’t quite hide her laughter. “Anyway, he says-”

Yalla’s scream cut through the office as a dark-clad body climbed through the window. The entrance would have been smooth and nearly silent, but the assassin hadn’t expected a sleeping child, and managed to trip over her on their way inside.

Before the assassin made it to their feet, Felmarin was there, his sword in one hand, and magic pooling in the palm of the other. Unexpectedly faced by an armed opponent when they anticipated a surprised one, the assassin hesitated. Their face was nearly completely covered, but what Felmarin could see of their face looked male. His suspicion was confirmed when the assassin came at him with an angry snarl and oil-wet blades. It took all his speed for Felmarin to keep those blades away form him, and he longed for armor, or even a leather vest that might turn a glancing blow.

“Guards!” he yelled as he fended off the assassin, whose eyes were narrowed and furious. He stole a glance, and sighed when he saw Elarria, her knives in hand, had made it to her sister and gotten them both into a protected corner, as far form the fight as possible. “Attack!”

The door slammed open and Felmarin spared a second look to see where they were, but the moment of distraction cost him. The assassin, spotting a split-second opening, lunged forward and managed to get a blade up against Felmarin’s throat. Vamer threw a hand out to stop the rest of the guards, but paced with them, step by step, until the assassin hitched the knife higher and Felmarin hissed.

“They shoot me, they shoot you,” the assassin snarled in his ear as he muscled them both backwards towards the window, and the rope that was surely how he manage dto get inside in the first place. “No sudden moves, Magician King.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Felmarin muttered back, all too aware of the poison on his skin, and the knife-edge that was too close to drawing blood. “Vamer, stand down.”

“You kill him, you die badly,” Vamer told the assassin shortly, but he slowly knelt and set his sword on the floor. At his nod, the rest of the guards did the same. “I’ll hunt you to the ends of the world.”

“You’re all blind,” the assassin laughed, high and manic. “Your evil words mean nothing. I am immortal!”

“No, you’re not.”

Felmarin felt the body behind him tense all at once, and took the opportunity to dive away, narrowly missing the blade of the very knife that left a barely-there scrape over his skin. It stung, but it was better than a cut throat.

When he turned it was to the sight of the assassin sinking to the floor, gurgling his last breaths around one of Elarria’s little blades, buried almost to the hilt in his throat.

For a long minute, there was silence, and then Vamer sighed.

“Well,” he said, and walked over to nudge the dead assassin with the toe of his boot. “Good to see that one of you is going to be easy to keep alive.”

“Get him down to the necromancers,” Felmarin ordered, all his energy gone at once. Ellaria came over to him, one arm around her sister, and cupped his cheek. At her light touch, he bared his throat to her so she could check the long scratch, thankfully not deep enough to break skin. He brushed his fingers over her cheek reassuringly. “Find out what he knew. Perhaps we finally have a clue as to our mysterious enemy.”

+++

Forest Fell:

Felmarin never expected to be ambushed in his bath, and never expected for his attacker to be the princess of the kingdom he had just conquered.

Oath and Offer

Enemy Met (Subscriber Only!)

Plan of Kings

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More Stories!

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (131/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

ETA: Now with actual content behind the cut!

[14 October, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

The Saiyan Free Company was a loose alliance of Saiyans seeking an escape from the misrule of King Rehval III. For over a century, the Rehval Dynasty had sought to unify the Saiyan species into a proper nation state, but the Saiyans were unruly by nature, and many of them bristled at the heavy-handed policies of the monarchists. Tensions between the kingdom and the expatriates came to a head when Rehval III tried to destroy the Super Saiyan Luffa. His scheme backfired, forcing him to abandon not only his throneworld of Saiya, but his second home on Pflaume, an influential hub of commerce and diplomatic channels. With his disappearance, decades of careful statecraft were wiped out in a single stroke. The Planet Saiya was deserted, her allies bewildered, and her embassies on other worlds completely isolated.

In the midst of this political vacuum, the Princess Seltiss stepped forward to pick up the pieces her father had left behind. At only sixteen, she possessed a talent for leadership that was rare among politicians three times her age. Her secret was something her father, grandfather, and great grandfather lacked: flexibility. The Rehvals before her had relied on overwhelming displays of force to convince their subjects of their right to rule, and they reserved politics and gladhanding for the aliens they wanted to do business with. It made sense, but only if one had the power to pull it off. Seltiss was fairly weak by Saiyan standards, and in a galaxy dominated by the Legendary Super Saiyan, no one could claim to be the strongest anymore.

Instead, Seltiss listened. Her followers were disillusioned with the monarchy, or they outright despised government of any kind. So she played down her royal title whenever possible. They didn't trust her at first, because of her father, or her inexperience, or her multicultural education. So she didn't bother giving them orders directly. Instead, she used her more loyal followers to tend to their needs, and she found that they were usually more cooperative once their bellies were full and their ships were repaired. When she needed stricter military discipline, she got it by delegating command to her closest advisers: older Saiyans who respected her abilities, and were strong enough to command respect from those who wouldn't listen to her.

The end result was a strange admixture of political theory that would have probably made her great-grandfather furious. Some of the Free Companions with monarchist sentiments respected Seltiss as the rightful heir to her father. The antimonarchists saw her as the opposite: a leader who proved her worth instead of relying on a birthright. Others only followed her because she got results. Some saw her as nothing but a provider of food, supplies, and battle to fight. Many sided with her out of necessity, fearing the growing influence of the Jindan Cult and Luffa's Federation. Then there were some that saw her as a figurehead. These Saiyans only respected her advisors and generals, and viewed her as more of a symbol for keeping the whole group united. And the beauty of it was that it worked, because each of them were a little bit right about her.

It wouldn't last, of course. Eventually, Seltiss would need to transform her motley crew into something more unified, with a more obvious rule of law. Eventually she would be their Queen, or their Dear Leader, or their Chancellor, or whatever other title they could all agree upon, but for now she was satisfied that they all followed her. She would adjust as the situation called for it. There were simple relationships that governed everything in life. Cold equations that could be managed, but never ignored. Too many failed regimes in history had treated rebellions like foreign invaders. Protests, riots, revolts, these were all the result of societal pressures. The goal was to vent the pressure and find ways to redirect and release those energies before they upset the system. That usually meant changing the system itself, and those in power often loathed to do this. Change could be difficult, and some leaders took change personally, like an affront to their past authority. Those who wielded power had to be able to adapt to the times, or they would find their power taken away from them. Those who failed to vent the pressure would be destroyed in the explosion. It was inevitable.

At long last, it seemed like her father had finally failed to adapt. She knew the day would come, just as the day came when her father replaced Rehval II. The Saiyan Free Company was part of her plan to assure a smooth transition of power. She was proud to see it work so well, but it was all happening much sooner than she had expected.

It was a relief to retire to her quarters. Her command ship was one of the best in her fleet, but the accommodations were still very modest compared to the dorms at various private schools she had attended in her short life. She had decorated the cabin with a few posters and alien souvenirs she had picked up during the war. Her favorite was a lamp she found that contained a suspension of wax and some unknown liquid. The heat of the lamp would melt the wax and make it float up and down through the liquid, and the whole thing was dyed in her favorite shade of pink, which made it perfect. She shut off the other lights and sat on the couch to admire the rosy glow. It was something she had started doing lately to relax.

It wasn't working.

Just when she was about to shut off the light and try to sleep, the door chime sounded, and she answered it to find Xibuyas waiting to come inside.

"I... didn't mean to disturb you, my lady," he said, in that adorable way where he tried to make his voice sound a little more mature.

"It's fine, Xibuyas," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"Good news, I think," Xibuyas said.

"If it's about the fleet that's going to the Jindans' base, I've already heard about it," she said.

"No, better than that," Xibuyas said. He handed a computer pad to her. "I had the crew run a tactical simulation for me. There's a very good chance we can destroy Luffa's ship during the battle."

Seltiss looked down at the pad, then back at Xibuyas. "Um, what?" was all she could ask.

"It's safe to assume that when we reach the enemy stronghold, the allied fleet will begin a bombardment of the surface," he explained. "Once that's complete, we'll have a narrow opening to turn our weapons on Luffa's engines. The Federation ships may turn on us, but the projections on that pad show a casualty rate no higher than sixty percent. Acceptable losses, as far as I'm concerned."

Seltiss took a deep breath and looked at the pad to review his findings. She didn't go over it very closely, but seeing the word "Luffa" and the number "60" was enough to tell her this was not a joke. "Wow. Like, you really want her dead that badly, huh?"

"She's an abomination," Xibuyas growled.

"We're allies, Xibuyas," she said.

"That alliance will be over once the cult is destroyed," he countered. "Our best chance to destroy her is to strike while she's on a spacecraft, where her powers won't save her."

"What happened to all that bluster about getting stronger and defeating her in battle?" Seltiss asked. "Because this plan sounds like it was drafted by someone who's given up on that."

He looked her in the eye, then turned away from her. "I... was forced to re-evaluate my strategy," he said.

"You can't beat her," Seltiss said. "You think you'll never be able to beat her."

"It won't matter," Xibuyas insisted. "Either way, she dies, and this way it will be over that much sooner. Then the Saiyan race can move forward again."

"This isn't about the Saiyan race, Xibuyas," Seltiss said. "This is about your pride. You're still wound up over the idea that you might be Luffa's son--"

"I am not her son!" he seethed.

She no longer believed him. Her father had raised Xibuyas like one of the family, claiming that he had been an orphan. Xibuyas grew up with astonishing powers, which her father claimed to be the results of his own alchemical enhancements. It all made perfect sense at the time, but now that she had met Luffa in person, Seltiss could see the resemblance between them. Ironically, Xibuyas looked even more like Luffa when he angrily denied any relation to her. But there was no point in saying any of this out loud.

"Chill out, " she said. "We've been over this already. I need you, Xibuyas. I need you to help me make this Free Company work. Your bio-parents aren't important to me. But we do need Luffa, at least for a while longer."

"Why?" he demanded. This was the closest they had ever come to a genuine argument. Growing up, he had always revered her like a queen. He took the Saiyan royal family very seriously, even when she did not. It hadn't been easy to convince him to side with her against Rehval, but in the end his love for her won out. Now, she was beginning to worry that his hatred for Luffa might prevail against her.

"Look, we have to win this war, sure, but we've got to win the peace that follows," she explained. "Right now, Luffa makes things easier for me. She gives Saiyans everywhere something in common. They're all afraid of her. Even the ones that respect her know she could kill them whenever she wants."

"And this is helpful?" Xibuyas grumbled.

"Look in every generation, one of us is the strongest, but we don't always know who it is," Seltiss explained. "A lot of times, even the strongest Saiyan is outclassed by some monster or alien. My father claimed to be the strongest, but it wasn't exactly obvious, not like it is with Luffa. Or you."

He tensed up at this, so she reached out to put her arms on his shoulders. She'd learned a long time ago that affectionate gestures like these helped to calm his stormy moods, and it always reinforced his loyalty to her. Xibuyas had a glowing yellow aura when he used his full power, and while his hair didn't change color, it wasn't hard to notice the resemblance between his aura and Luffa's transformation. He had been self-conscious about it ever since their first encounter on Pflaume.

"Look, big guy," she said, "you've been stronger than my dad for a while now. Maybe you've always been stronger. And I need that, for sure, but if Luffa's out of the picture, that makes you the strongest Saiyan, no question. And you've seen how everyone feels about her. If something happens to her, they'll turn that resentment on you next."

"It would be different for me," Xibuyas insisted.

"Maybe, but they're still not ready," Seltiss said. "Not all of them, anyway. It helps that you're a man, but some of them would still resent you. For now, they see you as a counterbalance against Luffa, and we need to cement that idea for a while. And once they're used to you, then we can think about where to go in a world without Super Saiyans."

"But this may be the only chance we get!" Xibuyas said.

"Don't be so sure," Seltiss said. "You may not believe in your powers, but I do." She patted him on the cheek, then turned to approach a small refrigerator on the other side of her room. "You want a soda?"

The offer might have angered him a moment earlier, but her flattery had taken a lot of the fight out of him. Now, he seemed to remember where he was, and the awkward anticipation he felt from spending time in her quarters. The boy was madly in love with her, and sharing a snack in her room was like a sneak preview of being married to her someday. When he finally remembered to answer her question, she tossed him a bottle and directed him to sit down. Then she took a seat beside him, draping his right arm over her shoulder like a scarf.

"Look, if we have to kill Luffa, we'll figure something out," Seltiss said after they each took a few sips. "I'm not saying we rule it out completely. But maybe we can work out something that, um, won't kill two thirds of our forces? You want to be king some day, right? Well, a king needs subjects."

He tried to hold his right arm still, like he was afraid of accidentally groping her somehow. He kept his fingers in as natural a pose as he could, but she could feel the tension in his muscles. As for his left arm, he wiped his mouth and sighed.

"Then... you still plan to be my bride," he said, as though he were just making idle conversation.

"Well, duh, how else can you be king?" she teased. "I'm the one with the royal blood."

"I just... I thought..." he took another sip as he put the words together. "It was King Rehval's plan that we marry," he finally said. "And you told me that we had more leverage by sticking together, because he needs us. In case your schemes failed, we could always go back to him and he would have no choice but to let us return. But now, we're preparing to kill him, and when that happens..."

She giggled softly. "All bets are off, is that what you're worrying about?" she asked. "My father's made a lot of mistakes, Xibuyas. Big mistakes, if you ask me. But pairing us off wasn't one of them. Sure, he only saw us as good breeding stock for making more Saiyan elites, but besides that, we make a good team, don't we? I need something to keep you around, don't I?"

"I see," he said, doing his best to hide his relief. "I didn't want to presume--"

"Of course, if you've found someone else, I can't exactly stand in your way," Seltiss joked. "Maybe you met some Federation farmgirl in one of the border systems."

"Absolutely not!" Xibuyas said. "I'd be lost without you, my lady. The only place for me is by your side."

Which was exactly the sort of response she had come to expect from him. In whatever society Seltiss would eventually build, Xibuyas would be its first citizen. Her father had found him, or stolen him from Luffa, or he grew him in a test tube, or whatever. Xibuyas revered him as a father/creator, but Seltiss had become his friend, his true love, his princess. Winning his loyalty from her father had been the first proof that she was capable of surpassing King Rehval III and staking claim to her own place in history. It was comforting to know that she still had Xibuyas wrapped around her little finger.

But not comforting enough.

"It must be difficult for you," she said after a long silence. "We've been plotting against my dad all this time, but I didn't think we'd reach this point so soon."

Xibuyas shrugged. "I only followed him because of you," he said. "It's a pity that things had to turn out this way, but he brought this upon himself."

"Yeah," Seltiss said. "But even so, he was like a father to you. It must be tough going into battle against him like this."

"Not at all," he said. "The man I respected, the man who was your father, that man died some time ago. If he ever really existed at all. I didn't want to believe the reports, that this 'Trismegistus' was actually King Rehval, but the intelligence reports are clear. He's not even trying to hide his madness. Killing him will be an act of mercy. Better than letting him live out his days as some pathetic wizard."

"I just always imagined things going differently," Seltiss said. "I wanted to build the Free Company into something bigger, and then reveal it to him when the time was right. Maybe ten years from now, or even fifteen. Then he would see what I'd accomplished, and he'd have no choice but to turn over his kingdom to me. He'd have to admit that I was ready, that I was better at this than he ever was."

"You already are better than he is," Xibuyas said. "Much as it galls me to fight alongside Luffa, your alliances and planning have all paid off. We stand ready to crush your father with overwhelming force. What more could you ask for?"

"Yeah," Seltiss said. "I guess I just wanted something more personal. You know, Luffa told me that Rehval's not even his real name. She said the real Rehval III was my uncle, and dad killed him and stole his identity."

Xibuyas made a loud harrumph. "I wouldn't put too much stock in anything that woman says," he grumbled.

"Is it any harder to believe than this cult leader scene he's into now?" Seltiss asked. "The point is that we'll never know for sure, because we'll never see him again. And it's a good thing. The Saiyan race can't move forward until he's out of the picture, sure. But... it's still tragic, you know? Things could have turned out differently."

He looked at her and smiled triumphantly. "It is tragic, for him. But it's like you've always told me. One man's tragedy is another's gain. You should be thrilled, Princess Seltiss. Killing your own father is a dream come true for most Saiyans. And at your age! You'll go down in history, with all the other old heroes."

Xibuyas stood up, and for a moment she thought he was going to lift her up from the couch and hold her in his arms. Instead, he took a step away from her, and knelt before her in supplication.

"I did have some attachment to the old man. I admit it," he said. "But his time is over, and his usefulness to you is at an end! We'll throw him away and never look back, just like you've always promised. I... I've always been in awe of your brilliance, Seltiss. And you're right about Luffa. I shouldn't let her get in my head. We have our whole lives to rid ourselves of that wretched beast, and with your genius, I know we can do it."

She didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him to get up, to hold her in his arms and tell her it would be all right. She wanted to tell him how conflicted she felt about killing her father. Necessary as it was, she still found it hard to face the reality of it. It had been easier before, when no one knew where King Rehval was, or that he had anything to do with Trismegistus' cult. But now there was no denying that Rehval was a menace to the Saiyan species, and it was her duty to destroy him. The cold equations demanded it. Her political career, the welfare of her people, the welfare of the entire galaxy, they all depended upon her father's death.

But she would still miss him when he was gone. Perhaps this was part of the equations that Seltiss hadn't considered until it was too late. It wasn't that Rehval had been a good father to her. He had probably lied to her more than she would ever know. It was likely that he saw her and her sisters as little more than breeding stock. But he still mattered. She kept thinking of one morning when she was a little girl. He cooked breakfast for her. There wasn't anything particularly important about that memory, but it was enough to make her regret what was going to happen to him.

She always thought Xibuyas felt something similar towards her father, but apparently not. Or perhaps he chose to hide it, the same way she was hiding her own feelings. She couldn't show weakness at this crucial moment. Everything she knew about leadership told her that she had to be steadfast and unwavering. She didn't love Xibuyas. "Love" was just a word she used to keep him on her side. She couldn't allow herself use him as a source of emotional support. It would only teach him that he had leverage with her. The boy was too powerful as it was.

"On your feet, kiddo," she said, forcing herself to smile. When he stood, she got up and gave him a playful kiss on the cheek. She hoped that the low light in the room would keep him from noticing the sadness in her eyes.

"I keep telling you," she said. "You don't have to bow to me, okay? You're going to rule by my side one of these days, remember? We'll be equals. So as far as I'm concerned, we already are, got it?"

"You're so much more than I could ever aspire to be," he said. "I... I should go. You need your rest for the battle to come."

He always excused himself this way whenever he began to get emotional. He thought he was being subtle, but she could tell from the change in his voice, and the way he suddenly wasn't sure what to do with his hands.

And she let him go, since she felt the same way. It would have been nice to have him stay, to hold her as she cried over her father's lamentable fate. But Xibuyas wouldn't understand, or worse, he might see her indecision as a vulnerability. She had to be strong, even in front of him. Especially in front of him.

So she waited for him to walk out the door, then sat alone in her room, watching the light from her pink oil lamp dance across the walls. Soon enough, the tears came, and she wondered if her father had ever felt so alone.

NEXT: The Homefront

#dragon ball #fanfiction #seltiss #xibuyas #lssjluffafic #huh i guess that's it for the tags #g'night folks!

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

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Fly Away With Me // AIRFORCE7

Summary: After falling from the skies in an active war zone, Jinyoung hadn’t expected to be healed by your laughter and love.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader (ft. GOT7 in AIRFORCE7)

Genre: pilot au / 1940s era / romance

Warnings: Due to the era it’s set in, this will contain minor war conflict in some of the stories. I will not be making the war-zone my main focus in this series however.

A/N: Here’s the next instalment in this series. It’s going to be the only one in the series based in active war, but I promise it’s not that dark. Please note: I just edited this fiction before posting and if there are any errors, I will edit them out in the next couple of days :)

Word count: 5333

This series will continue every Thursday until completed at 10am NZST.

Nothing had prepared Jinyoung for the war. He hadn’t been foolish to think he would be invincible; he had kept up with news and casualties overseas for some time before the fight reached him. And with all the missions he had done so far with his squadron, Jinyoung had believed it would be hard.

But not nearly as hard as this.

Days blended into night and there was barely any time in between the moon rising and the sun shining again to rest within. He didn’t even know what day it was, and vaguely could remember the month now. He spent more time within his plane than anywhere else, and the soundtrack of his day kept him awake at night, unsure if the guns firing were simply flashbacks from earlier in the skies, or an actual raid was happening above his place of rest.

Some of those who he flew out with didn’t come back home and his attitude was no longer motivated, now bleak. The only thing that was keeping him going was knowing the rest of his team not only felt the same, and was flying out beside him. Yet when that changed, Jinyoung stumbled for the first time during his service in the Air Force.

“Sir, you can’t separate our team up, we work best together,” he argued the orders handed to him and his Lieutenant, Jinyoung glancing at his best friend and at how tight Jaebum’s jaw was now. Jinyoung stepped forward towards the Corporal, seeking answers.

The official looked just as exhausted as the rest of them did, and dragged a hand down over his face at Jinyoung’s statement. He then looked at him, his eyes sad yet firm. “Son, I need you up in them skies protecting us down below. I don’t care what formation you fly in, who you fly with, so long as you take out those bastards that keep coming for us, and make it home as safe as you can. We can’t keep losing pilots as we have been. I need you spread out, fighting from all angles and keeping those who aren’t as good as you in the cockpit safe, you hear me?”

“Understood, sir,” Jaebum replied, saluting before heading out of the office. Jinyoung glanced between the two, saluting the Corporal as well, and then ran after Jaebum.

“You know very well that if we split up, we lose our power.”

“We’re losing as it is. The government talked up a big game. Our nation would win the war. And we will, but at what cost?” Jaebum shook his head, scoffing loudly at the mere thought. Jinyoung agreed, the hope propaganda had never been something he believed in, but in the very least, it kept the air force united and strong. He glanced around at the faces of those who remained, looking haggard compared to newcomers.

“She can’t train them fast enough either,” Jaebum continued, his gaze out in the field to where his wife and the AIRFORCE7’s Captain stood. Jinyoung knew Jaebum held more burdens on his shoulders now; the ring upon his finger was put there just before the war broke out here. A simple promise that their love wouldn’t part no matter where in the world they were. It made Jinyoung’s argument weaken. He had nothing but his youth to keep fighting for.

“So we’ll get up there and give Cap time then.”

Jaebum glanced at Jinyoung, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Thought you were against splitting up?”

“Oh, I am,” Jinyoung retorted, sighing heavily as he saw a new cadet struggle to land his plane fast enough. “But if we’re what the skies need right now, who am I to argue with that?”

Jaebum smiled and clapped him on the back. “Know that flying away from you will be one of the hardest missions I take on, Park.”

“Just one request,” he started as they headed back to the office, Jaebum’s eyes crinkling up with amusement before Jinyoung could finish his sentence. Even though he knew they were on the same wave-length, Jinyoung grinned before continuing. “Just don’t leave me with BamBam. I don’t need to protect his ass when he has a meltdown too.”

When the teams were assigned, Jinyoung hadn’t gotten much luckier with not landing BamBam. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jackson, when not up in their planes, he got along with his comrade well. Yet, much like the name of his metal stead, Jackson was too bold, and some would even use the term crazy. It made him resilient in the face of enemies, though he was pig-headed too.

“Back off for now, Wang, we need to get back to the base.”

“There’s only four of these suckers left. Orders were to take out the enemy. We haven’t finished that yet.”

Jinyoung cursed at the reply, knowing all too well that turning his back on the pilot had been too risky. He saw Jackson’s Crazy Horse speeding towards the west, where enemy planes were just picked up on.

“Turn back you idiot! The rest of our squad is going back and it’s not time to play the hero. We need refuelling and rest.”

“I see one! I’m going to take it down!” Jackson radioed back through and Jinyoung cursed again, propelling himself back into the action. He couldn’t let Jackson do this alone, and maybe his friend was right. If they took out four more enemies, then their team would be the one with the highest tally for the month. Somewhere along the way, how many planes you could take down became the game to keep the soldiers entertained. Jinyoung tried to remember there were people within the enemy cockpits, yet there were far too many faces and crimes of the war that he wasn’t ready to put weight upon.

“There’s one on your flank, I’ll take him out,” Jinyoung told Jackson before targeting the enemy, shooting until it fell away from his side. Jackson had already taken two of the four planes down himself, and Jinyoung scanned the area for the remaining fighter plane. He couldn’t see it anywhere. “Wang, what you seeing?”

“Nothing, I’m seeing nothing.”

“He was here a moment ago,” Jinyoung radioed back, feeling uneasy all of a sudden.

“Maybe we got him in the crossfire, let’s head back.”

Jinyoung was about to agree when he finally spotted the lone fighter, hitting the throttle to try and get to Jackson fast enough. The pilot fired at them both, Jackson using his nimble flying skills to his advantage to roll out of the way. And this left Jinyoung in the prime spot to become a target. He saw the pilot up close, his face just as weary, just as angry with this endless war. And that was the last thing Jinyoung saw within the clouds, the sudden blast spiralling all control out of his hands.

He had prided himself on being one of the best pilots, who never put himself in the wrong place. However, the only one Jinyoung could blame for this mistake was himself.

When his senses returned to him, he couldn’t hear gunfire. And he was certain he was no longer falling, instead, he was laying on something far more comfortable than the seat of the cockpit that he last remembered ejecting from. Was he laying on a soft bed of grass? Jinyoung took a tentative sniff, and wasn’t met with earthy smells.

“Why am I in a hospital?” he groaned, his throat feeling too dry to have said so many words all at once. Before his eyes opened, he heard the low chatter stop in the corner, feet rushing towards him. Finally, he blinked back the heaviness of his eyelids, groaning again when the lights above him made his blurry vision suffer further. He tried to sit up, or at least turn away from the blinding light, but his body was soon held down and someone thankfully blocked out the harsh brightness above. Jinyoung instantly relaxed against the bed again. “Water.”

“Of course,” your voice mentioned and soon you were guiding a straw into his slightly parted lips, the effort of swallowing a small sip hurting just as much as that first sentence had. It felt cool going down his throat, however, and Jinyoung bared the pain as he sipped more of the liquid down, quenching some of his thirst.

And then he finally got a proper look at you. He blinked again, your white outfit with the light illuminating above you made him smile lazily. “Did I die?”

“No, soldier, you’re very much so alive.”

“You look like an angel,” he told you and you smirked.

“And you’re still feeling the effects of those heavy drugs. I sure am no angel.”

“What happened?”

Your humour left you as you stood up, and he immediately clamped his eyes shut again until he had managed to turn his head. His gaze followed you as you reached to fluff his pillows. “What else? You were shot down, found by a farmer by the wreckage of your plane. You know you got very lucky. Had the part of the wing gone any higher, you might have been grounded for good.”

“Grounded?” Jinyoung looked around himself for answers, stopping when he saw his right leg propped up on pillows and the ankle held up in a leg sling. He let his head fall back onto his pillow, defeated.

“Now there’s no need to be that dramatic. You’ll need some weeks for the initial healing stage, and a bit of stabilising when you go to walk until it’s stronger, but you’ll walk again, soldier, don’t you worry.”

“How long until I can leave here?”

You frowned, throwing your hands up a little. “Didn’t you just hear me? You have some weeks.”

“You don’t understand,” Jinyoung complained, and then sat up with a start, a hiss leaving him as his body reacted to being jerked around like that. You scolded him immediately, but he craned his neck all around, looking for another familiar face. He then glanced back at you. “Wasn’t there another soldier?”

“Afraid not, there was just you. Now would you lay back down and rest? You’ve only just woken up and you can afford to take some time to let your body heal. You’ve done enough for our country as it is, I’m sure.”

The next day passed by doing just that, sleeping in and out. He would listen to the conversations you and the nurses held sometimes, and others he was just thankful to sleep undisturbed. He hadn’t rested like this in months, and although he needed to get word out that he was okay and find out if Jackson was as well, there was a small positive in sleeping without worry of the next air raid siren going off.

When he had his fill of slumber, Jinyoung propped himself up, smiling as you busied yourself with another patient. The ward he was in wasn’t very large, and as he looked around the equipment, he realised he must be in a countryside hospital.

“You look to have some questions today,” you mused as you came over to check the IV bag beside him and the line that was attached to his arm. “But I have one for you. Your dog tags were missing, soldier. Now I’ve done all the best I can without a name, but if you could do me a favour and remember it, that would make our interactions a lot better, don’t you think?”

“Jinyoung,” he uttered, and you smiled. “Park Jinyoung.”

“Well, Jinyoung, that was easy enough. Now, how would you like some proper food instead of the liquid diet?”

He nodded happily, and with a melodic laugh, you patted his arm and left the room. Five minutes later, you returned with a tray of food, shrugging lightly as you placed it down. “You slept through breakfast and lunch, so I hope you don’t mind my catering skills. A sandwich should be fine enough to swallow now. Tonight, you can enjoy dinner from the local cook.”

“Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. So, those questions?”

“How do I get word out from here? Where am I?”

You smiled again. “In the middle of nowhere. Frankly speaking, the war hasn’t been all that busy around here, though it has made our phone lines unreliable. Mail is the best we’ve got, but the roads are damaged so it’s taking its time. Do you need me to write for you?”

“I need to message my team to let them know I’m alive. They’ve probably reported me MIA by now.” Jinyoung stopped to think of Jackson, the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach making the sandwich he was eating stick to the back of this throat. He choked a little and you handed him a cup of water, which he silently thanked you for. “I need to know if my friend is okay.”

“Is it easy to have a friend in the war?” you asked, sitting down on the side of his bed. Jinyoung frowned as you sighed. “I hear more men fall out of the skies than stay up in them these days. Can you afford to have friends?”

“It’s what keeps us going on,” he admitted and you nodded softly. “I have lost a lot of friends though, so the ones I have left are more precious than before.”

“I’ll help you with that letter as soon as I’m done with my rounds then. Which won’t take too long, given this hospital is rather small,” you mentioned, cheering up the mood again and standing back to your feet. “We’ll make sure everyone knows you’re still alive, Jinyoung.”

Once the letter was sent, his mood lightened. He spent the next week talking with everyone he came into contact with, craving a sense of the outside world. He was sick of lying here day in and out, and the leg he had momentarily thanked for giving him a well-needed break, was now the bane of his existence.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing?” you asked as you found him loosening off the sling holding his injured leg up. Jinyoung froze for only a moment before he continued what he was doing.

“I need to get up before my leg becomes too weak.”

“You already know the leg is weak and cannot handle bearing any weight, Jinyoung.”

He nodded and gestured to the wooden crutches across from him. “Lend me those.”

“Now why would I do that?” you questioned, folding your arms across your chest.

“Because I need to ensure circulation is still flowing the entirety of my leg. Moving it for short bursts during the day will ensure I have a faster recovery rate.”

Your annoyance lessened and you tilted your head. “Are you trained in medicine?”

“I might as well be. My father is a doctor, my mother a nurse. And I even was working towards becoming an army medic before the war broke out.”

You sighed heavily, though you played with a smile on your lips. “I knew you would be trouble for me.”

“Well, I’ll be far worse if you don’t assist in handing those crutches over. I’ll just get them myself, and there could be a serious risk of me falling on the ground trying.”

“A little humility goes a long way,” you retorted and Jinyoung flushed with colour, shaking his head firmly.

“Isn’t it enough with all the bedpans? I fear you’ve seen too much of me and there’s not enough there for you to like.”

It was your turn to blush and Jinyoung liked the colour you turned. He smirked; it was always you who seemed to hold the control over him. You cleared your throat and jarringly walked over to the crutches. “There may be plenty there to like, and yet I feel as if that might be trouble in itself. I’m taking these, and I’m going to ask the doctor before both of us do something stupid.”

Jinyoung grinned after your hasty retreat; your words healing him in ways he thought wouldn’t ever be possible during this time in his life. When you returned, you were more composed and still held the crutches. You watched him carefully. “Any sign of instability and we go back to bed, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He managed five minutes on the first attempt. And the next day, it accomplished ten. He was thankful for his military training and working out on his upper body a lot before the war. He had never thought he would need upper body strength like this, and admittedly, he liked the way that you would sometimes look towards his arms as he hopped along the hallway. He was glad about that too.

By the time two weeks had passed, Jinyoung had almost forgotten how he had come to this small township or his worries about anything. He was lost in a world of recovery and laughter, your own giggles brightening his days further the longer he was in your company. He was certain you had healed him more than the drugs and rest had by now.

“And so, BamBam came running out of the room, stark naked and screaming at the top of his lungs,” Jinyoung managed to say in between fits of laughter, and the three nurses surrounding him were equally as helpless.

“This man sounds ridiculous.”

Sarah giggled. “I don’t know, I think I find him rather charming. Is that what all soldiers are like, Jinyoung?”

“Have you seen him parading around here naked yet?” you asked the girls, who all gasped and giggled some more. You then shot Jinyoung a hard look. “I saw your hands just now, keep it on or I’ll find you a sedative to calm you down.”

“It’s getting late, we should head home,” Amanda mentioned with a pout, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. “Y/N, will you be alright doing the night shift?”

You nodded. “Of course, thankfully I only have Jinyoung and two others here at the moment. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep her company,” Jinyoung assured and the girls giggled again.

“Don’t tell any more stories until we’re back!”

“My lips are sealed,” he promised with a chuckle and watched as you followed the girls out to lock the front door. When you returned, you did so with two mugs within your grasp.

“I thought you might like some tea. The other patients are already asleep.”

“If you want to sleep too, I can lay down and try as well,” he offered but you merely shook your head, curling back up into the chair you had dragged over.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

You stared into the mug you held, your eyes richer in colour when you looked up. “Flying.”

“Well, it can be a little scary at first, because you go faster than you could ever do so on the ground. But it’s freeing too. You get to see the world up close and then from far away. I like that.”

“I always wanted to fly, at least once. To know what it’s like to escape the world you have around you. Growing up here, everyone knows everyone. There are no real opportunities for surprise, to feel excited.” You sighed, looking back at your drink. “I thought becoming a nurse, especially with the war, would get me transferred to a city, someplace that would need my assistance. The war wasn’t ever going to come this way so they said, and I didn’t really sign up to nurse the few patients this township would have. Yet, here I am. Born and bred here, working here, stuck here.”

“You want to fly away?” he asked and you nodded before shaking your head.

“Not now, if I fly away, I might end up like you.”

He chuckled, taking a sip of the drink and then stared back at you. “I’ll take you flying one day.”

“You need to walk before you fly, Jinyoung.”

“You told me I’d walk again too,” he reminded and you couldn’t help but widen your smile then. “I’ll help you escape here if you want to.”

“You know, ever since you came here, I’ve felt excited again.”

“I do that to you?” he murmured, edging closer to you. “Excite you?”

“Because you’re someone new, we don’t get that often.”

“Liar.”

You placed down your tea and took his from his grasp as well, before pushing him gently back into his bed. Jinyoung’s arms wound around your waist and pulled you along with him, you both staring at one another for an immeasurable moment. Your gaze then darted to the door, knowing the other two patients were sound asleep in the female ward.

“Y/N, are you going to do something about this excitement we’re both feeling?”

You turned back to him, easing yourself into a comfortable position within his grip. “You said those lips were sealed.”

“I won’t tell a soul if you don’t.”

Jinyoung had relaxed too much here. With every step he took, it was towards you, and your smiles only enticed him further to reach for your lips and hold you close. The romance he had anticipated after his service to the country ended had arrived early and he wanted to hold on to it for as long as he could. He had been here for a month, and although he only knew of this hospital and the grounds it was kept upon, he finally understood the way Jaebum stared at his Captain all those years.

As selfish as it was, he wanted to hide here forever, until the war was over and then run away with you to wherever you wanted to go. He craved setting up his new life with you.

Instead, he got a different answer. You hovered by his bed as he read the letter, bouncing around agitatedly. “Well, what does it say?”

“Let me read it first,” he urged, his eyes scanning the handwritten message from his Lieutenant. He let out a shaky breath as his emotions rose to his eyes. “Jackson is alright. I was the only one shot down.”

“That is great news!”

Jinyoung glanced up at you. “They want me back as soon as I’m fit enough to travel.”

“Oh.” Your smile erased just as easily as it had appeared. “So soon.”

“Come with me.”

“I don’t have much savings, and you’re living in an air base, where will I stay?”

“Those friends of mine you ask of, they have partners, they have people in their lives too. You could stay with them. Or we could get a house together. I have some money saved up, we could do that.”

“You want to do all that with me?” you wondered and Jinyoung nodded, pulling you into his arms.

“Fly away with me.”

“We can really fly together?” you asked again and Jinyoung kissed you, uncaring that anyone could walk through that door any moment now.

Instead, the doors began to rock on their hinges and your kiss broke apart as you were jostled around. Your eyes widened. “What was that?”

“Get down!” Jinyoung cried, diving off the bed and covering you as the all too familiar sounds of guns and planes flew above the hospital. The windows shattered and he could hear screaming from the other rooms. The birds that had been chirping through the window just previously were now silent; much like everything was after the moment passed. And then he heard the indefinite sounds of screaming all around.

With a hastened limp, he followed you around the hospital, everyone shaken and unable to focus on the situation. Even Doctor Hong was crying. Jinyoung looked around himself and cleared his throat. “Sarah, get all the patients away from the windows. Move everyone into the middle of the building. Amanda, ready the supplies, people will be coming here quickly for aid. Y/N, we need to set up camps for the injured, and rank them by severity. Everyone needs to focus on the task at hand.”

“I’m scared!” Amanda cried and you grabbed her in your arms, comforting her briefly before repeating Jinyoung’s instructions.

“Even in the middle of nowhere, the war has hit us.”

As predicted, the doors soon opened, and the noise was deafening. Some were only coming because they were scared and stressed from the attack, whilst their neighbours were bleeding or dying in the middle of the entrance. It was chaotic, with every abled person in the hospital trying to work through the aftermath. What had become normal for him to witness as a pilot, was frightening to the staff who were used to treating the common cold and old Daisy’s Alzheimer’s. Jinyoung constantly stopped to help refocus the nurses, Sarah crying as she poured a solution onto an open wound to help with the bleeding.

Jinyoung couldn’t just keep moving people around to their zones, he needed to help further and when a middle-aged woman dropped at his feet, Jinyoung lifted her up and placed her up on the first surface he could find, screaming out for appropriate tools and drugs. The woman glanced at his attire and started shaking her head. “I don’t want to die! Get me a doctor!”

“You’ll die if I don’t treat you right now!”

“You’re a patient.”

“As are you right now and you need to calm down,” he replied sternly, the woman fighting him off with what little energy she had left.

“A doctor!”

“He is a doctor, Beth, he’s a doctor who was hurt. He’s part of the army, just let him help you,” you told her rapidly, handing him the tools he called for and looking at Jinyoung determinedly. He nodded and set to work, treating the woman efficiently and stabilising her before moving onto the next person he could save.

“Do you think they’ll come back again?” Sarah asked into the small hours of the night, her voice feeble. The screaming had mostly stopped, yet the air was still brimming with terror. You moved to hold her within your arms, Amanda was already asleep from exhaustion in the chair beside Jinyoung.

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t think we were a target initially, I believe those pilots had too many rounds left and not enough of us up there to spend them on.”

“You saved six people today,” Doctor Hong mentioned and Jinyoung nodded slowly. “When this war is over, you should continue with your training. You’ll make a fine doctor.”

“I just don’t know when it’s going to end.”

“And they’ll need you to continue with bringing a stop to all of this,” you whispered, your own emotions slipping down your cheeks. “Maybe it’s time for you to fly back to where you came from, soldier.”

It was different now. Jinyoung had lost some of his drive as he flew up in his new Mustang. It wasn’t his first plane change over the war, and he wondered if it would be his last. All the same, he couldn’t ease back into the role of being an elite pilot. Of course, he was thrilled to see the faces of his comrades, the hug Jackson gave him as he sobbed all over his shoulder had eased some of Jinyoung’ pain leaving you behind. But he missed you more than he missed flying. For the first time in his air force career, he would quite happily have his wings clipped if it meant he could be with you forever.

Jinyoung knew though, to keep you safe he had to do his job well.

The allies were growing in strength, and one after the other, the countries battling against them surrendered. The war was won by them after all, just like Jaebum had said.

“Where are you off too so quickly?” Yugyeom, a member on his team enquired as soon as the medal ceremony was over. Jinyoung grinned as he packed his bag, picking up the photo he had of you and placed it on top of his things.

“Lover boy is off to bring back his girl,” Jaebum mentioned and slung an arm over the youngest member of their team. “The war is over; it’s time for us to move on.”

“We’re still assigned to our team, what are you talking about?” Mark mentioned, gesturing to everyone in the room. “Airforce-Seven hasn’t disbanded yet.”

“Well, it’s about to become Airforce-Six for the meantime,” Jinyoung announced, ignoring the jeers from BamBam laying on his bunker.

“Airforce-Five actually,” another voice corrected and everyone glanced at Youngjae sitting beside BamBam. “I’m going home for a while.”

“So that’s it for us?” Jackson whined and Jinyoung shook his head.

“I’ll be back, once I have Y/N with me.”

“We won the war, but the need for us will still be there,” Jaebum agreed, moving to slap Jinyoung on the back again. “Go get your girl. We’ll be here waiting.”

The trip to get to you was longer than Jinyoung would’ve liked. The air force wouldn’t very well lend him a plane of his own to pick you up in, and the train seemed to stop far too often for his liking. Eventually, Jinyoung was ambling up the gravel driveway to the building he knew all too well. It was a sunny afternoon and despite his rush to see you again, he took his time, looking at all the parts of the property he had memories with you in. It was comforting to be back, but he had bigger plans than this township could handle with you.

Eventually, he opened the front door and waited in the lobby, wondering who would greet him first. He grinned when Amanda appeared, a squeal emitted from her mouth before she dashed off again. He could hear the ruckus she was causing without so much as saying truly what was happening. Jinyoung chuckled, dropping his bag to the ground at his feet and watched the ward door in anticipation.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Amanda. Breathe!”

“If she stops, at least we’re in a hospital and can resuscitate her,” Jinyoung told you as soon as you stepped out, smiling widely and cocking his head to the side as he opened his arms. He had hoped you would run into them, but you surprised him, walking over slowly, but that smile he loved of yours was prominent on your face the whole way over.

You stopped before him. “Is it finally over?”

“I believe so.”

“You’re really here?” you wondered, taking another step towards him. Jinyoung closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his body. He held you tightly as he felt your tears soak through his shirt. “I had only hoped you would come back for me.”

“I made a promise to help you fly away, remember? I couldn’t not fulfil it now, could I? I’m pretty sure you would have found a way to bring me back to life if I died before coming back for you.”

You thumped him on the chest in your embrace and Jinyoung chuckled heartily. “Don’t talk about it like that!”

“So you are glad to see me again.” You pulled your head away from him to glance at him, pouting slightly. “I got on the first train I could, you know.”

“I think you were more excited to see me again,” you teased and Jinyoung nodded.

“Are you ready to fly away with me now?”

“You don’t want to stay here again and let me change your bedpans for you?” Jinyoung rolled his eyes as you laughed and then he stopped, smiling at the sound. “What?”

“I’ve missed your laughter.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“So I did offer you more than enough, huh?”

You nodded sincerely. “I’m hoping you’ve got a whole lot more for me in store too.”

_________________

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird: Cyber Warfare

The shift back to real space was never something one became used to. It was a feeling as if the bones in your very body were being ripped from your screaming flesh while you remained fully aware of every nerve and pain cluster in your body as it screamed out in mind numbing agony.

High Marshal Volgrim had performed the process so many times he had stopped counting as he deemed it hardly worth his time and effort; but what he did remember was the pain of each transition. That, was something he could not easily forget nor repress.

“Navigation, give me location and baring.”

“Coms, I want our command beacon broadcasting for every ship to hone in on as they exit the jump.”

“Weapons, I want the guns unlocked from storage and primed within the next forty seconds”

“Engineering, give me a report on ship wide systems and then raise shields to maximum if permissible.”

“Radar, give me contacts a full sweep of the surrounding space.”

Though the High Marshall was still rubbing his closed eyes to ease the pain his orders were crisp and direct. He knew his crew would need a moment as well to recover but a moment was all he could spare them.

“Star charts coming in now; we’re at the edge of the Hyperion System.”

“Readings confirmation codes from the Shveron, Mulbo, Tapis Dawn, and Kalbrum fleets now emerging alongside us now.”

“Gunnery teams report arc cannons are primed and ready to fire. Javelin batteries are still connecting coolant pipes now. ETA 60 seconds till ready to fire.”

“Engineering reports all systems are showing positive. Shields raised at full power, no fluctuations.”

Volgrim nodded with every reply as if checking off a list in his head. The rhythm of the checking was interrupted by the noticeable lack of reply from the officer radar station.

“Radar, report.”

The commotion on the bridge of his flagship would have deafened lesser captains but to Volgrim he had become so used to it he could even hear a pin drop over the murmur and be able to point which station it had fallen from. So when the radar officer failed to reply once again volgrim opened his eyes and looked directly at the officer.

“Officer Murbak,” he began with his voice rising, “re-”.

Officer Murbak held up a hand to the High Marshall and continued observing his display.

Having trained each of his bridge crew himself, Volgrim knew full well that one of his men would not act in such a disrespectful manner unless it was something urgent.

Without saying a word Volgrim rose from his command throne and slithered over to the Murbak’s station, his thousand tiny feet across his segmented body pattering against the metal body sounding like rain atop a roof. He leaned over Murbak and took note of the display console.

“What do you see lad?”

Murbak’s dozen arms were twisting and adjusting a handful of knobs on the console as the image in the display shifted over and over.

“Shortly after we came out of our jump we detected several enemy markers.” Murbak replied as he continued to adjust the knobs.

Volgrim looked over the display. “The radar shows nothing there lad.”

At this Murbak broke his gaze at the display and turned his worried eyes at his high marshal. “I know what I saw sir. They’re out there.”

Turning his gaze to the main view port Volgrim took stock of what lay before them.

The fleet had arrived at the very edge of the Hyperion system, home to a newly founded human colony that had imprisoned traders of Volgrim’s people, known as Vukori, after a dispute at the space port turned violent. Naturally the Vukori government had seen this act as a direct act of aggression and dispatched the High Marshall with several fleets to punish the wayward humans.

The Hyperion system was surrounded by a thick nebula of gases that were now playing havoc with the sensor equipment. Volgrim trained his eyes on the swirling masses of green and orange clouds as they danced in space.

As the clouds drifted apart for a moment Volgrim’s eyes shot open as he saw for the briefest of moments the reflection of a metallic object in the gas.

“All hands to battle stations!” Volgrim cried out as he returned to his command throne.

He had no need for his radar officer to give him a confirmation, his concerns had been vindicated. The humans had hidden their fleet inside the nebula to hide it from sensor readings and no doubt had planned to ambush the Vukori fleets as they entered.

“Assemble the fleets into a wedge formation. I don’t want us being picked apart one by one.”

Though he had only seen one ship in the clouds he was sure more were hiding. With his fleets dispersed from their jump exit they could easily be picked apart one by one, but by concentrating them they would be able to fully bring their might to bear.

As if sensing their plan had been discovered the first of the human ships began emerging from the nebula. Their hulls were of a steel grey that reflected the green and oranges of the clouds around them like a patchwork of modern art and their frames resembled sea faring vessels of their primitive years without the sails of fabric and masts.

“Give me a count Mr. Murbak.” Volgrim called out as he watched each new enemy vessel pull forward.

“I count five battleship class, 7 cruiser class, and fourteen destroyers.”

“Keep an eye on that nebula Mr. Murbk, there could be more hiding in there.” “Aye, aye!”

Volgrim cradled his head between his arms and pondered the situation. The human fleet was roughly half their total fleet size but also was at the disadvantage of lacking heavy ships compared to the Vukori fleet. Yet Volgrim was well aware that humans had an annoying habit for implementing unconventional tactics when outnumbered that often saw them win the day or at the very least inflict serious casualties against their foe. This was the first step of the war with the humans and Volgrim was not sure if he could replace any losses he sustained so early on in the campaign.

“Mr. Huckval,” Volgrim called to the communications officer, “ order all ships to keep their distance from the human vessels and turn their scanners to maximum range. I want them reading everything within a 300km distance from us.” He leaned over and gave a hard gaze at Huckval. “If so much as a asteroid the size of a finger floats this way I want to know of it.”

Huckval relayed the high marshalls orders fleet wide as the Vukori fleets finished arranging themselves into formation.

“High Marshall, we are receiving a communication.”

“From which fleet?”

Huckval shook his head. “It’s not from one of ours but from the human fleet.”

“Interesting. Put them through, fleet wide.”

After a brief moment a picture appeared on the view port and for the first time Volgrim saw his enemy; or so he thought.

The image on the screen was constantly shifting and only ever holding image steady for a few moments before shifting again into a blizzard of static. When the image was holding steady Volgrim could barely make out the image of a human figure in a deep blue uniform with short cropped hair.

“Mr. Huckval, what is the meaning of this?”

The comms officer looked embarrassed and hurried back to his station just as the human figure began to speak.

“THIS IS ADMIRAL PYRE OF THE 3RD FLEET.” The voice was drowning and at such volume that it hurt the ears of everyone on the command deck.

“Cease your shouting human!” cried Volgrim as he covered his ears in pain.

Admiral Pyre looked confused when the image steady and looked off screen as if talking to someone.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” The admiral continued. “ I AM TALKING NORMALLY.”

Volgrim brought his hands down hard on the arms of his command throne. “You are shouting at the top of your tiny lungs!”

Pyre looked off screen once again before turning back. “THERE MUST BE A PROBLEM WITH THE TRANSMISSION BEING SO CLOSE TO THE NEBULA.” Pyre said, taking a apologetic look. “I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.”

Volgrim turned to Huckval and motioned to end the transmission with a wave of his hand. The picture on the view port was instantly cut and replaced again by the view of open space and the human fleet.

The crew were slowly recovering from the audio assault on their ears. Volgrim was turning to Huckval when the engineering officers voice rose up in alarm.

“High Marshall! We are reading arc cannons charging up!”

Volgrim spun around. “I gave no such order!” he barked. “Whose ship is daring to defy me?!”

The engineering officer looked scared at his commanders anger but continued his report. “Shveron and Mulbo fleets are showing increasing energy readings.”

Volgrim was confused at this. Both fleets were commanded by commanders he had served with on numerous campaigns and neither had ever shown such defiance before.

“Confirm readings and contact-”

The engineering officer cut him off. “We are now reading energy spikes from the Tapis Dawn and Kalbrum fleets as well!”

“Something is wrong.”

Volgrim put his thoughts to words as the new report came in. “Mr. Huckval, get me the commanders of all fleets on the line this instant. We need to find out what the gulgut is going on!”

Huckval turned to his console and began dialing in when suddenly a spark of energy discharged from his station. Huckval was able to jump back in the nick of time but the energy discharge fried the console entirely.

“Repair crew to the bridge!” Huckval called out.

Things were spinning out of control one after another and all Volgrim could do was watch.

All of a sudden a red warning lights began flashing across the bridge and the radar officer pushed people aside to get to Volgrim.

“Sir! Three ships of fleet Shveron just exploded!”

“WHAT?!”

Hammering in keys into his command throne Volgrim brought up the display of his fleet and indeed saw that three ships were gone.

Volgrim roared and grabbed Murbak by the neck and hoisted him into the air.

“Why wasn’t I told the enemy started firing on us!?”

Murbak was shaking and clawing at his neck.

“The humans didn’t fire! They didn’t fire!!”

Four more ship icons flared red and vanished from the screen before Volgrim’s eyes. “Status report, now!”

Murbak scrambled back to his console and keyed in several commands.

“The ships were destroyed from internal explosions, not enemy weapons fire.”

“Explain!” The confusion was only adding to his continued frustration as Murbak continued reading the scrolling information.

“From the readings it looks like their arc cannons detonated from a build up of ene-”

“FLEET WIDE BROADCAST!” Volgrim shouts in alarm realizing the danger they were now in. “DISCONNECT POWER SUPPLIES TO ARC CANNONS!”

“Communications are still fired sir, we can’t send a message out.” Huckval called as the repair team arrived and began quickly disassembling the burnt out communications console.

Volgrim watched as more and more ships in his fleet began blinking out as their arc cannons reached critical mass and detonated.

Another sound of alarms began ringing out and to his mounting horror Volgrim knew instantly what they were. He turned to his gunnery officer to see him sprinting out of the bridge.

“Where are you going?!” Volgrim shouted over the blaring alarms.

“I have to disconnect the cannons or we’re all dead!” the officer shouted over his shoulder as he scuttled as fast as he could out of the bridge to the nearest access hatch and descended to the gunnery decks.

The flagship was beginning to shudder as the mounting energy in the cannons became increasingly unstable. The energy was meant to be fired outwards in an arc when at critical mass and trigger immense damage to enemy ships. But without firing coordinates the weapons muzzles had remained shut as more and more energy was being poured into each cannon.

Consoles now across the bridge were sparking and exploding as the crew darted back and forth all the while Volgrim sat upon his throne.

He knew his gunnery officer would never make it to the gunnery deck in time and so resigned himself to his final moments.

With vengeful eyes he gazed out at the human armada before him and cursed them with his final breath just as the arc cannons exploded and ripped his ship in two.

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“Confirm, enemy flagship is down.”

The human radar officer confirmed the readings once more and nodded. “Half the enemy fleet has been destroyed. The remaining portions appear on the verge of detonation or attempting to flee out of system.”

“Permission to fire?” the gunnery officer inquired, eager to get the final blow in.

Admiral Pyre shook his head, a faint grin crossing his face. “Save the ammunition for another day.”

Pyre looked away from the view port and stepped over to a special portion of his bridge. The area was filled with consoles and screens reading off seemingly endless streams of data that the staff present monitored and altered as needed.

He stepped behind one officer who promptly turned and saluted smartly. He returned the salute crisply. “At ease.��

The officer lowered her arm and motioned for her staff to disperse. “I would say your program was a success.”

To Pyre’s surprise he saw her shake her head. “Hardly. We were only able to implement it through the transmission because of the audio distraction and even then it took nearly twenty five seconds to spread fleet wide. We were lucky that they did not employ any tactical ai programs otherwise they would have detected the cyber spike and contained it.”

She handed him a large folder. “This is a list of all the features we can improve upon and requisitions for better equipment for future engagements.”

He took it and skimmed through a few of the front pages before closing it and tucking it under his shoulder. “I shall give it a more detailed inspection later tonight but rest assured you will be provided with everything you need.”

She looked puzzled at this. “But you haven’t even read what I’ve asked for.”

Pyre nodded and smiled. “True, but I have already seen what you can deliver.” He motioned her to the view screen as dozens of enemy ships exploded in the distance. Bright blue arcs of energy shooting out and ripping metal hulls apart like paper as the remaining ships made futile attempts to jump away.

“Do you have any idea how many lives of my sailors you saved today?”

Pyre gazed out at the destruction and kept his smile. “Because of you and your teams work you have delivered a critical blow to our enemies without endangering a single one of them.”

He turned to her and fixed her with a serious stare. “Not. A. Single. One.” He said the words slowly to let that sink in. “They will not only go on to serve the navy in future battles and wars, but also be able to one day go home to their loving families because of your hard work; and I think that is worth more than a few million dollars of computers and cable.”

She coughed and tapped her leg nervously.

“It will, uh, be roughly a billion dollars in computers, and, ugh, cables; sir.”

Pyre looked at her, then back at the destruction she had wrought.

“I’ll see if we can cancel a battleship production to divert the needed funds once we return to port.”

Before she could reply Pyre turned and left the bridge to report the victory they had achieved back to the homeworld leaving the human fleet to watch the destruction of their enemies unfold from the stroke of a few keys.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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