#I refuse to accept that Law is a spotted seal

[trafalgar-law-ask]

//If the other members of the heart pirates had names, I would have drawn them too//

Heart Pirates

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Linzin Week 2021: Day 5 - Satomobile

Linzin Week 2021: Day 5 - Satomobile

Here’s another one of my late contributions. This was quite fun to write. Hope you enjoy it too.

One-shot, AU Lin x Tenzin Note: Set in the same universe as my other stories – Contentment and The Airbender’s Wife.    You can read this in AO3 as well.

Lady Lin Beifong and Guest

You are cordially invited to the unveiling of the latest luxury model of the Satomobile.

The next lines were on the event details.

Tenzin flipped the invitation close; he had read enough.

Lady Lin Beifong and guest indeed.

If he did not know any better, he would have thought that the invitation was harmless enough. Just the standard generic invitation a local company was sending out to the influential people of the city.

Unfortunately, he did know better. This was a smarmy way of Hiroshi Sato to remind him how insignificant the airbender was to modern society.

“Well?” Lin’s voice cut through his internal monologue that was all about disparaging thoughts on the industrialist. “Are you free on that night?”

“Oh, are you asking me to join you?” Tenzin feigned ignorance. “Do you mean to say, Lady Lin – I will be your lowly guest for the night?”

Lin flicked a small pebble to this forehead. “Don’t be daft, Tenzin. Of course, you’re my plus one. There was never a doubt about that. So, how about it?” She took back the invitation and envelope from him.

She grabbed the pen that he had on his office desk and was poised to respond to the RSVP.

Tenzin pretended to go through the calendar and the planner his assistant had on this table. Lin flicked another pebble at him, knowing his tactics. Despite being engaged with each other for more than a year, Tenzin still regards Hiroshi Sato as a sore spot in his and Lin’s relationship.

He huffed when he confirmed from his calendar that the night of the launch was marked free.

Of course, he had some misgivings. Hiroshi and Lin had dated before they had and had been engaged for longer than they were.

Well, if he, Tenzin, had his way, they would not be engaged for longer than Lin and Sato. He would make sure to seal the deal soonest.

Plock!

“Stop with the pebbles, woman. Where are you even getting them? I’m free to attend the Future Industries gala.”

 ---

Tenzin had to acknowledge that Sato had pulled out all the stops in his latest press event. The venue was spacious and shiny, with overhead lights that sparkled. The food spread and drinks were lavish and decadent. The people were colorful and elegant, reeking of affluence and influence.

However, none of these people held a candle to the Lady Lin Beifong.

All eyes and all cameras were on them when Tenzin softly airbended them down Oogi, assisting Lin to alight as gracefully as she possibly can from the sky bison.

He knew that Lin had several formal dresses in her wardrobe (all part and parcel of being a Beifong lady) but tonight’s dress was one of his favorites. It consisted of a form-fitting silken bodice that tapers off to a flowing tulle skirt. The sleeveless canary yellow top with blue embroidery accentuated her figure and her toned forearms. And, to his chagrin, the slits of shimmering tulle skirt of yellow and sienna highlighted Lin’s smooth legs when he bended them down the bison.

While he was proud to arrive with her on his arm, he was feeling a bit awkward now as he stood by while Lin talked shop with a visiting high-ranking detective from Omashu.

The airbender excused himself by offering to get a refill of Lin’s drink. He extricated himself and went off to the bar, trying to recall which one was Lin’s drink.

“…She looked lovely, didn’t she? Resplendent and I bet that gown of hers is worth a fortune.”

“I agree. Such a pity she needed to get transported about with that beast.”

“Oh, come on now, darling, there’s no need to be rude using the term beast.” The speaker paused. “And the sky bison didn’t add to their overall charm either.”

Tenzin felt his face heat up as the guests from a nearby cocktail table gossiped and tittered.

Another guest piped up. “Well, who knows, maybe Lady Beifong will put in an order for latest satomobile tonight. No doubt she is capable of buying one.”

“Indeed.” A snooty-sounding foreign man agreed. “However, we do have to take account of that monk of hers. Don’t they have a vow of poverty or aren’t they against worldly comforts?”

The first guest, the one who talked about the dress being expensive, spoke up again. “Probably, I mean, he probably only has that one set of formal robes that he wears on every occasion.”

“Lady Beifong wouldn’t have to stand for all that inconvenience and disgrace had she not broken up with Hiroshi Sato.”

There was a chorus of murmuring agreement.

“Well, until they are wed – it could still change…”

Tenzin decided he had enough of eavesdropping and selected the brightest fruit punch before hurrying back to Lin’s side, keen not to be seen by the snobbish group.

To his dismay, while the Omashu detective had left Lin, it was Hiroshi Sato himself who was now conversing with his fiancée.

“Here’s your refill, dear.” Tenzin thrust the glass in between them, drawing a startled reaction for both Lin and Sato. “Hope it hasn’t gotten tedious; I’m sorry for taking too long.” He stared pointedly at Sato, who took a step back.

“Don’t worry about it, Tenzin.” Lin thanked him and took a sip. “Hiroshi was just telling me more details about his latest model.”

Sato cleared his throat. “Yes, Master Tenzin as I was telling Lin, this model is a little bit more environmental-friendly than the earlier model. The cushions are likewise more comfortable and would offer more protection in the event of an impact.”

Tenzin simply nodded with disinterest, subtly taking Lin’s unoccupied arm and hooking it around his. Sato was droning on more features and the airbender decided to tune him out. Until he heard…

“…In fact, let me offer you a large discount, for old time’s sake.”

“I can afford your satomobile!”

It took Tenzin a few seconds to realize he was the one who blurted out the last statement.

Lin and Sato looked at him oddly, as did four people within hearing radius.

“Yes, dear, we know you can.” Lin leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest. “But this is about the bulk purchase order for Headquarters. The contract made between RCPD and Future Industries has lapsed so we were talking about drafting a new one.”

“While I’m sure you can buy a satomobile,” Sato had the gall to poke his nose into his faux pas. “I don’t suppose the Air Nation would be pleased if you bought a fleet for the police department.”

“Of course, I knew that.” Tenzin bit out, then took a swig out of whatever swill he had chosen for his drink. “I was just saying -.”

“Oh, Hiroshi – I think that’s your master of ceremonies calling for you?” Lin suddenly pointed towards the stage, where, true enough, a man in bright blue formal wear was scoping the crowd.

Sato immediately excused himself and asked them to enjoy the libation.

“What was that?” Lin untangled her arm from his and turned him so that they were face to face. “Do you really want to purchase a satomobile?”

“Don’t you?” Tenzin threw back at her. “You seemed pretty fascinated by all those add-ons and features -.

“I was being polite.”

But Tenzin continued as though Lin has not spoken. “–And then, maybe at least you won’t have to arrive at fancy gatherings on a large hairy beast.”

“I’m fine with Oogi. He grew on me even if, I do agree with mom, that sky bison tends to smell during long trips.”

“Oh yes but this satomobile – it has all the works. It’s fancy, it’s rich, it’s comfortable, and it’s accepted by the upper-class. Not at all shabby, an embarrassment or out of fashion.”

“Hold up,” Lin raised a hand and wave the glass of fruit punch. “What is this really about? As I’ve said - I’m fine with Oogi and I barely need to transport myself around the city unless it’s for work.”  She tilted Tenzin’s chin so he was looking at her. “Are we still talking about satomobiles?”

“Of course.” Tenzin could be stubborn too, and he does have his pride. He did not want his woman to be ashamed of him. He can provide for her, after all.

“Oh, Tenzin. Dear.” The earthbender’s lip quirked up to the side, revealing her amusement, but Tenzin refused to drop his serious countenance. “Well, true – this satomobile might be a bit more comfortable, it might even have more amenities and yes, it is quite showy.” Tenzin shifted uncomfortably. “But – with Oogi, he’s a beloved sky bison. I’ve known Oogi since I was a child. I trust Oogi with all my heart and I know that Oogi will not let me down. Ever.”

Tenzin did not even think twice and leaned forward to capture a quick kiss on Lin’s lips.

She always did know what to say to assuage his doubts.

“Thank you.” Tenzin murmured, his forehead on Lin’s.

Lin pulled back with her eyebrows raised. “Why are you saying thanks? Shouldn’t Oogi be the one doing so?”

He swallowed Lin’s laughter with another kiss.

He did not even mind the sudden camera flash to the side, knowing that this would be part of the double spread in tomorrow’s news feature on the satomobile launch.

Oogi would definitely receive a double helping of the special hay from the Fire Nation tonight.

 ---

Present day.

“…And that is why, Korra, I’d rather that you do not accept the satomobile that Tarrlok has sent over.” Tenzin finished his retelling at the Avatar who looked non-plussed.

“Or I could simply say I don’t feel right about taking something that luxurious coming from taxpayers’ money – assuming of course that he did charge it to city hall.” Korra drummed her fingers on her cheek. “Or that it’s not right accepting something that expensive since it would be misconstrued as a bribe.”

“Huh.” The airbender blinked at the teenaged avatar. “You’re right.”

“Yep,” Korra grinned, eyes crinkling. “I do read the materials you told me to, even if it was so boring. That constitution and by-laws of Republic City is one snooze fest. But I figured I need to be familiar with it in case Chief decides to land me in jail again.” She added cheekily.

Tenzin stood dumbfounded as Korra excused herself to head on to training.

“Oh, by the way, thanks for telling me that story, though honestly, I could do away with your descriptions of Lin’s ‘figure’, ‘toned forearms, and ‘smooth legs’.” Korra used air-quotes and hurried off with a laugh at the airbending master’s reddening forehead.

[stiltonbasket]

chancellor of the morning sun: burdens, mingjue (youth)

In which being a woman in the cultivation world is difficult, and Nie Mingjue comforts a friend.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | | Part 8 | Part 9 | AO3

On the night after the welcoming banquet, Nie Mingjue wakes to the sound of someone crying outside his door. 

This was by no means unusual when he was younger; Huaisang often had night terrors after his mother died, and refused to sleep without Nie Mingjue for the next three or four years. But A-Sang is thirteen now, far too old to come crying to his da-ge after dark, and the person on the other side of his door seems to be a woman. 

“Who’s there?” he calls, lighting one of his dream lanterns before getting out of bed. “A-Sang, is that you?”

“No, it’s me!” a familiar voice shouts, nearly sending Nie Mingjue to the ground as he scrambles to keep his footing. “A-Jue, let me in!”

Nie Mingjue drops his lantern and tries not to panic. The crying is still going on, but the person who called his name was Lan Xichen, without a doubt; and if she had come to his chambers this late, with the Unclean Realm full of foreign cultivators who would gladly take any chance to see her reputation ruined, then she must have come to seek his help with some kind of emergency.

And Nie Mingjue has not forgotten that the son of his father’s murderer is sleeping under his roof, or that Wen Ruohan openly sought Xichen’s hand in marriage for Wen Xu, and would have forced the two to meet if Nie Mingjue’s own fuqin had not intervened.

“I’m coming!” he says frantically, throwing the door open and grasping Lan Xichen’s arm the moment she crosses the threshold. “Lan Huan, I’m—”

And then he looks over Lan Xichen’s shoulder, blinking at the miserable line of young maidens trailing down the corridor behind her. Jiang Yanli is standing at Xichen’s side, crying into her sleeves, and Qin Su and Jin Zixuan’s first shimei are there, too; and Wen Ruohan’s young niece is standing in the back, holding Qin Su’s arm to keep her from falling over. All five girls smell of liquor, even Xichen, and Nie Mingjue gapes at them in bewilderment as Xichen fists her hands in his tunic and shakes him from side to side.

“Jiang-jie won’t listen to us!” she complains, sobbing drunkenly into his chest: which sets Jiang Yanli off again, and then Luo Qingyang starts weeping, too. “A-Jue, tell her!”’

Mingjue frowns. “Tell her what, A-Huan?” he says gently, wiping his intended’s face. It will be ruin for them both if anyone spots her here in the middle of the night, let alone with four other girls in front of his private quarters, but Nie Mingjue would rather cut his own hands off than turn the girl he loves away in such distress. “What’s wrong?”

“Jiang-guniang thinks she’s not worthy of Zixuan,” Luo Qingyang wails. “But just look at him! He prances around like a prize stallion, and he keeps making a fool of himself everywhere he goes! It’s pathetic! And he keeps talking about how wonderful he is, almost as much as Zixun! Nie-zongzhu, I have to beat him up twice a month to keep him in line, and it’s not even working!”

“Not worthy of Jin Zixuan?” he snorts. “Jiang-guniang, it’s Jin-gongzi who isn’t worthy of you. A-Huan, didn’t you tell her so?”

Jiang Yanli only cries even harder, and Xichen gives him a reproachful look and pinches his stubbly cheek. “She won’t listen to us when we tell her she’s more than enough. Yanli thinks we have to say so, since we’re her friends, so I brought her to you so you could tell her instead!”

“Jin-gongzi should count himself lucky that a maiden like Lady Jiang would give him the time of day,” Nie Mingjue says promptly. “He’ll get over himself in time, and Luo-guniang will beat him into the ground if he doesn’t. Right, Luo-guniang?”

Luo Qingyang nods fervently before listing straight into one of the walls. “I will!” she yells, as Wen Qing reaches over and puts her back on her feet again. “‘N then I’ll put itching powder in Jin Zixun’s pants, and, and…”

“Steal his wine again,” Qin Su suggests, letting out a loud burp. “That peach-blossom brew was delicious. Don’t you feel any better after drinking it, A-Li?”

“No, I don’t,” Jiang Yanli murmurs. “Good night, Nie-zongzhu. I’m going back to bed now.”

“Yanli!” begs Xichen, throwing herself at the shorter girl and almost knocking both of them backwards onto the floor. “Yanli, don’t go! You’re worth a hundred of Jin-zongzi, you—A-Jue, help!”

“What am I supposed to say?” he asks, thoroughly bewildered. “I can go challenge Jin-gongzi to a duel myself, if you like. Would that cheer you up, Jiang-guniang!”

But to his surprise, Jiang Yanli only goes to her knees and trembles like a kitten left out in the cold, sobbing about her fears for her future at Koi Tower and her dread of being bound to a man who will never respect her, her terror at the prospect of having no allies past her wedding day save for her mother-in-law, and then about having to spend the rest of her life within reach of Jin Guangshan. 

“Mother keeps telling me that I should try to do better, so that Jin-gongzi likes me,” she chokes. “And one of my Yu aunties told me once that Jin-gongzi has to like me, since that’s going to be the only thing keeping me safe from—from—”

“Why haven’t you spoken to your parents about this?” Nie Mingjue demands, aghast. He knows very little about how his own engagement was settled on Xichen’s side; but not long after his ascension, he discovered that neither she nor her uncle were consulted on the matter, and that the sect elders only informed Lan Qiren of his niece’s engagement after the betrothal papers were sealed and signed and the bride price was already paid. 

Nie Mingjue’s father made the agreement believing that Lan Qiren was amenable, and would have dissolved the betrothal in a heartbeat if Lan Xichen ever said she was unhappy with it—even in the months just before his death, when his greatest regret was that he would likely not live long enough to see his grandchildren. But he never disapproved of Lan Xichen’s decision to remain unwed until Wangji was at least eighteen, though the wedding was originally set to take place just after Xichen turned eighteen, and he would even have accepted a divorce if his daughter-in-law initiated it. 

And Jiang Fengmian is widely known to dote upon his daughter, just as Nie Mingjue’s father doted on Lan Xichen, so why would he not offer the same choice to his child that Nie Huangyin gave to A-Huan?

“Father would break the engagement if I asked, but Jin-furen is mother’s best friend,” Jiang Yanli weeps, in answer to Nie Mingjue’s unspoken question. “It would make things so difficult between them if Jin-furen ever knew I felt this way. And A-Xian and A-Cheng already hate the idea of me marrying into Lanling, Nie-zongzhu. It would be so much worse for them both if they found out I was afraid.”

“It is better out now, than ten years from now, when you are wedded into that house and bound there by a husband and children,” Nie Mingjue says somberly. “Jin Zixuan is not a bad sort, but if he can look upon a maiden who spends her days tending to her family and teaching in orphanages and finding apprenticeships for street children, and call such a girl unworthy because of her looks and low cultivation—then he is not worthy of any wife, let alone one like you, and I pray he will come to recognize it without some great tragedy to bring him to his senses.”

“But—”

“If A-Huan were to lose her cultivation, I would still count myself as the luckiest man in the world to be her husband,” he declares. “And if she were not beautiful, that would be nothing to me. Whatever the strength of her golden core, and whatever she looks like—her heart has nothing to do with either her face or her jindan, and I love her for that above all things.”

Jiang Yanli’s jaw drops open, and she stares up at Nie Mingjue in open disbelief. Xichen is far too drunk to register what he just said, and Wen Qing seems to have stuffed bits of cloth into her ears to keep herself from listening to anything Jiang-guniang would not have confided while sober—but the word love still burns on his lips like the hot filling from Lan Xichen’s sweet bean cakes, flooding through every inch of his body until he can think of nothing else, and he spends a good two minutes in a kind of stricken trance before wondering if saying such a thing before Maiden Jiang might have hurt her feelings.

“It didn’t,” she says softly—because apparently, Nie Mingjue said that last aloud. “I think I see now, Nie-zongzhu.”

Nie Mingjue opens his mouth to ask what she means, but a small purple blur interrupts him before he can get the words out. The blur skids around the nearest corner, screeching in indignation at the sight of Yanli’s tearstained face, and then it turns upon Nie Mingjue and demands an explanation. 

“What did you say to my Shijie?” Wei Wuxian cries. “Shijie, did he bully you?”

“Silly A-Xian,” Jiang-guniang smiles, ruffling Wei Wuxian’s hair. “Nobody bullied me, but Nie-zongzhu made me feel much better.”

“By making you cry?” Wei Wuxian says doubtfully. “Should I get Suibian?”

“A-Xian, no!” Jiang Yanli is giggling now, kissing her brother all over his puffy cheeks. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Wei Wuxian drags her off down the hallway, casting suspicious glances over his shoulder, and Wen Qing charges herself with the duty of escorting Luo Qingyang and Maiden Qin back to their own quarters. However, she declares in no uncertain terms that managing three drunk girls is beyond her, and that leaves only Nie Mingjue to look after Lan Xichen. 

“Your uncle’s going to kill me if he finds us,” he whimpers, as he struggles up a flight of stairs with his betrothed yawning in his arms. “And then A-Sang will spend the rest of his life on birds and fans, and never catch up with his lessons in time to attend your clan lectures.”

“Shufu likes you,” Xichen assures him, patting the tip of his nose. “He would never do such a thing.”

“He would if he thought I’d been improper towards you,” Nie Mingjue groans. “A-Huan, have you had anything to eat after you started drinking?”

“Mm, A-Su brought snacks. And Wen Qing kept slipping headache medicine into my wine.”

Nie Mingjue sighs in relief and hugs her a little tighter. “Good. Will you try to drink a little water after we get back to your room?”

Xichen nods drowsily, nearly stopping Nie Mingjue’s heart as she nuzzles against his shoulder, but he manages to get her up to her bedroom in one piece and helps her get into bed, making sure she lies on her side to prevent choking in the morning. He also puts a few pieces of rice candy on her nightstand since he always carries a handful in his pocket for Huaisang, and fetches a glass of water for her to drink when she wakes. 

Lan Huan is fast asleep by then, breathing quietly in her nest of blankets with her hand tucked under her cheek, and Nie Mingjue makes it as far as the door before remembering that she is still too drunk to be left alone.

But she doesn’t have a maidservant, Nie Mingjue thinks desperately, staring wildly out of the room as if one might climb out of the nearest cupboard. And Wangji didn’t come along this time, and I can’t wake Lan Qiren—

Oh, no.

Oh, this is very bad. 

Anything could happen to Lan Xichen with so much alcohol in her blood, and she might even stop breathing during the night and smother. But there is no one to fetch except for Lan-xiansheng, and that means Nie Mingjue will have to stay with her until she wakes. And given the fact that Lan Qiren will be looking for his niece by mao hour tomorrow, while Lan Xichen will probably sleep a shichen longer than usual—

Nie Mingjue sinks down beside the bed and puts his head in his hands. 

Well, that settles it, he despairs, pulling the thick blankets away from Xichen’s face. Lan Qiren is definitely going to kill me. 

But he would be lying if he said that the sight of Xichen’s peaceful face was unworthy of death by uncle-in-law, so Nie Mingjue accepts his demise with grace and starts planning his funeral instead.

___

When Lan Xichen opens her eyes, the first thing she notices is the dull pain in her head. 

The second thing she notices (after gulping down the water and candy on the nightstand) is that someone seems to have left a heap of something dark near her bed; probably a bag, or a pile of clothes, though she can’t see well enough to tell what it could be. 

And the last thing is that her uncle is sitting on a chair by the door, tapping his foot loudly enough to make her head pound. 

“Shufu,” she croaks, struggling upright with the aid of one of her pillows. “What are you—”

“Disciples of the Lan clan must not consume alcohol,” he says, strangely calm despite the enormity of her transgression. Her clothes still smell like Baling mead, sweet and spicy and fruity all at once, and she nearly dies of shame at the thought of how shocked Shufu must have been when he found her. “They must not go out of doors after haishi. And they must never share chambers with any member of the opposite sex to whom they are not married, unless they are a relative.”

Lan Xichen freezes. “What?”

“Should I not be asking you that?” her uncle reminds her. “What is Nie-zongzhu doing in your bedchamber?”

Thunderstruck, Lan Xichen stumbles out of bed and stares at the dark heap on the floor, which yawns at her touch and stretches like a cat before springing up in horror. 

“Lan-xiansheng, it’s not what it looks like!” Nie Mingjue cries, making Lan Xichen shrivel at the memory of how shamefully she must have behaved last night. “I only wanted to make sure Xichen was safe, I would never—”

“And you did not think of waking me?” Lan Qiren lifts his eyebrows at them. “Even if you wanted to ensure that my niece was well, how could you risk being seen leaving her rooms in the morning? My own quarters are just on the other side of the hall.”

Mingjue ducks his head in shame, and Lan Xichen suddenly wants nothing more than the comfort of his hand in hers. “I didn’t want her to get in trouble, xiansheng,” he mumbles. “She only came out last night for someone else’s sake, and I couldn’t have borne to see her unhappy just for that.”

“You are a sect leader, Nie Mingjue. Don’t look down when you speak to me,” Shufu scolds. “As it is, I am glad that you did not leave her. But as her uncle, I must order you to go now before the breakfast bell, lest you ruin both of your reputations at once and force her to marry before she is ready.”

Mingjue takes the hint and flees, leaving Xichen and her uncle alone. Shufu says nothing more for a while, merely studying the ceiling as if the laws of the Lan sect were inscribed there, and then he clears his throat and points to the stack of parchment on her desk.

“Copy each precept you broke, a hundred times each. The tenth, eighteenth, and seventy-first laws. Go.”

And then, after a moment’s lull:

“I think he will be a good father someday, A-Huan,” Lan Qiren reflects. “Your little ones will want for nothing, what with how he cares for you and how much he coddles Huaisang. I could not have found you a better husband if I chose for you myself.”

Lan Xichen drops her paintbrush.

“Shufu!”

[secret-engima]

Yknow how the Cloud-Prom thing is a thing? Yeah well I was thinking of it in reverse. Prompto reborn as Cloud.

FINALLY FOUND THIS ASK.

It’s been buried so long I thought I’d never find it again.

BUCKLE UP NEW AU RAMBLE TIME AND IT’S A LOONNNNGG ONE.

Also before we begin *yeets canon FF7 timeline because it MAKES NO SENSE*.

There.

...

-Prompto wakes up when he’s 4 and he falls into a stream tainted with a LOT of mako while fleeing from bullies.

-Well technically he wakes up two weeks after that little mishap because mako poisoning plus sudden memory reboot is an Ouch and took a while for his tiny body to acclimate too. His mom (he has an actual non-adoptive mom now, that’s weird) is so relieved he’s okay and Prompto feels ... really bad that now he doesn’t entirely feel like her kid.

-He IS her kid and he knows it, but he remembers a time when he wasn’t, when he was an escaped science project and a Prince’s friend and a Crownsguard who saw the world end and then pick itself back up afterward. It’s impossible to go back to being ... well ... who he was before he Remembered.

-His mother accepts his new personality changes and “quirks” and Prompto loves her all over again for it.

-Cloud Strife is now a strange mix of too old and mature for his age and a bubbly, cheerful sunshine child. The residents look down on him because he “has no father”, but Prompto has suffered worse than their petty scorn and refuses to let it bother him.

-The local bullies learn to leave him alone pretty fast too, because Cloud may be small, but he has all of Prompto’s memories to back up his techniques, and bullies dislike pain. His mother just scoffs at the angry parents who complain about twisted wrists and black eyes and says maybe if they controlled their own children, hers wouldn’t have to resort to violence to defend themselves. It makes them no friends in Nibelheim, but there are a few neighbors who don’t buy into the town’s cliquish nature and they keep trouble away from the Strife home.

-Cloud is 7 when his mother finally stops letting him just handle her unloaded rifle with constant supervision and actually teaches him to shoot it. It feels young to Prompto, but Prompto had grown up in the sheltered city of Insomnia. This is Nibelheim, and Nibelheim’s wildlife don’t care how young he is or that they aren’t “supposed” to enter the town when they are young and dumb and hungry. Nibelheim also doesn’t have much in the way of a grocery store, and if the table needs food, someone is going to have to go shoot it.

-This at least, is familiar. Even in a world where he is no longer Prompto, and he’s pretty sure the world has been taken over by an evil Niflheim empire knockoff pretending to be a power company, he’d long gotten used to having to defend a settlement from things with teeth and go hunting to provide food.

-But back to the Evil Empire Pretending to Be A Power Company that he’s pretty sure has taken over most of the world- yeah. That was a nasty shock to figure out when he was 6. It’s nothing overt ... sorta. Just- you know- the way the elders grumble over how they were always small, but they were never ABANDONED until the reactor came and everyone started to work there rather than learn the old trades. The ivory carving and fur-tanning, the jewelry made of bones and fangs and shed dragon scales and the parkas made from wolf fur and rabbit hide that were second to none in quality. It hadn’t been the most thriving trade perhaps, but it had been something. Now all there was was the reactor, and that ... sat wrong with Prompto. There was also the rampant propaganda that was always pro Shinra, the news that this power company had just started a war (???) using their super soldiers (??????) and honestly why no one saw anything wrong with that was a mystery to him.

-Cloud is honestly glad that he’s living in such a backwater town. The farther away he is from That Nonsense the better. At least until he’s old enough to be able to properly fight and wield dual pistols like he used to.

-His mother buys him his own pistol when he’s 10. He’s responsible enough for it, and Nibelheim doesn’t really care about things like age laws that city folk do. Every child here knows how to safely use a firearm of some kind out of sheer necessity, even if most of them are not allowed to have their own until they’re closer to 12 or 13. He still primarily uses the family hunting rifle, since hunting for supper with a pistol is stupid, but he carries the pistol everywhere he goes in case something decides to try to make a meal out of him. It’s a battered old revolver, but Prompto spent ten years keeping equipment functional with minimal supplies, and soon his little Quicksilver is as fast and reliable as any “new” model.

-His mother doesn’t ask how he already knew how to disassemble and clean the pistol. She never asks when he knows things he has no right to, and he’s glad for that.

-Cloud is 11 when the abandoned Shinra Mansion stops being abandoned and those instincts that kept Prompto alive through the Long Night start screaming. It could be something innocuous, but those military trucks pulling around to the back of the mansion don't look like they’re only carrying supplies, and he’s not the only townsperson who thought they heard pained sobbing and smelled burnt flesh from inside some of those vehicles. Cloud thinks about keeping his nose out of it, he’s physically only a child after all, but the rest of him knows that if something goes wrong with ... whatever this is, then his entire town could be at risk of “disappearing” if Shinra is as bad as he thinks they are.

-The townsfolk aren’t supposed to go in there, too many monsters and it being private Shinra property after all, but the kids like their dares and their scary stories, and all of them know the secret ways to get inside and out again that bigger monsters can’t fit through and adults don’t notice. Cloud creeps around cautiously, pistol loaded just in case, and he can’t get INSIDE the actual building without being spotted, but he sees enough.

-This mansion isn’t a mansion. It’s a LAB. Those trucks were carrying lab equipment and supplies.

-And human victims.

-Cloud rushes home and throws up in the back yard and all he can think about is how two weeks ago the news mentioned a “radar malfunction” or something that led to an entire town being bombed out of existence and oh wouldn’t that explain the smell of burned skin?

-Cloud tries to stay out of it, but he CAN’T. He can’t in good conscience, so he keeps sneaking around, avoiding the guards and wondering what, exactly, to DO.

-He finds the ... disposal area and Regrets™, but every time he sees someone being thrown down there, he creeps over to check for a pulse. Just in case. Just in case.

-He’s thinking of stopping for his own sanity, because all of this is bringing up every trauma and nightmare he tried to forget from Prompto’s life, when he-

-Finds a little girl. Bloody and injured, with something imbedded in one frail hand that looks like shards of materia, and he expects her to be dead like all the others except she’s not and Prompto breathlessly carries her away on his back to hide in one of the tiny mountain caves he’s turned into a hideout over the years. He keeps a lot of stuff in there that his mother would never allow if she knew, things like a restore materia he won off a drifter in poker (and oh the man’s face at being outmatched by a 6 year old), and a surgical kit he ... found out in the wilds (it wasn’t like the man would need it anymore, the wolves had seen to that).

-He uses the restore materia five times before he’s sure the girl is as stable as she’s going to get on such short notice, then he stuffs a rag in her mouth and ties down her arm, because he may not know a lot about this world, but he knows shards of materia in her hand CAN’T be good for her health, long term or short. Materia absorbs magic from people on skin contact, so even in shards, there’s a high chance it will absorb her magic until there’s none left and then start going after her life force.

-Two hours later, he uses one last restore to seal shut the hand he just extracted the last bits of materia out of, throws the materia shards into the nearby mako spring that has been providing his light out of sheer spite to whoever imbedded the things in the first place, then passes out because he’s an 11 year old who just used six restore spells and performed field surgery on someone’s hand using his own tools and the bottle of alcohol he smuggled up here a long time ago as disinfectant.

-He wakes up a long time later, and by the time he gets back down the mountain to find his mom, the town is looking for him. He tells no one what really happened, but he needs SOME cover story because he’s kinda covered in blood from that whole- rescued a child out of a death pit and then did surgery on her hand thing. He makes up a story of a hunt gone wrong and hiding in a small cave until the wolf pack left and is grateful no one asks to see if his pistol is out of ammo or not. They just buy his story and move on to talking about hunting down this supposed wolf pack.

-When his mother takes him home, he tells her the truth. It’s the first time she’s doubted him since he was 4 years old. Shinra has already left again as suddenly as they’d come so it’s safe to take the bigger of the hidden entrances into the mansion grounds. He shows her how to get in, and while the death pit is a pile of smoking ash now, the signs (the bones) are still there and she is horrified. She is more horrified when he lets her into his secret cave and shows her the little girl, huddled up in his secret hideout’s fur blankets, still unconscious and deathly pale but at least not actively dying anymore.

-She agrees that this must remain a secret, for when Shinra eventually came back.

-They keep her hidden up there for three months with only a handful of other people in the know (all folk who Claudia has trusted with her life before and who she knows won’t go blab to the mayor). They feed her and care for her and discover she’s lost all her memories. They know about Kalm, it’s not hard to guess that her parents are likely dead and burned by now.

-Claudia names her Storm and says she will take care of Storm now, and Cloud hugs the stunned girl close and whispers that he’s always wanted a little sister.

-Six months after Kalm’s burning and Shinra Mansion’s return to empty haunted building status, Claudia lets the rumors spread that her cousin has died and left a child to be sent to Nibelheim to live with her. Since Claudia has always been closed mouthed about her family, this rumor is believed wholesale, and when one of those other folk in the know sneaks Storm down to the next town over a few hours before Claudia arrives in her battered old truck to “pick her up”, their alibi is as complete as it’s gonna get.

-They estimate that Storm is 9 years to Cloud’s 11, and she takes to being his cousin/sibling with a desperate sort of fervor. Cloud throws himself into being an older brother with equal devotion, even as he trains harder with his guns and survival skills and passes them on to Storm too.

-Cloud is 14 and maybe going a little stir crazy in his small town life (he’s grateful to be away from most of Shinra’s nonsense, but it does get REALLY BORING out here, especially with everyone his age leaving to go work for the Evil Empire In Disguise) when Storm tentatively asks what happened to her in the mansion. Cloud doesn’t know. But he’s got two pistols now and he’s not afraid of the local monsters, so he kisses her forehead and treks off to the mansion to find out.

-He fights his way into the mansion and finds all the creepy science papers and learns ... a lot.

-Apparently Evil Empire was playing god with things they knew little about, surprise surprise.

-Cloud tucks away Storm’s file (Felicia was her old name, interesting), and keeps digging. It takes a couple days of repeated visits (in between which he updates Storm and his increasingly alarmed mother of what he’s learned), but eventually he finds the files on Shinra’s golden boy Sephiroth and learns he’s had his DNA combined with a dead “ancient” (and if that’s really an ancient cetra and not some kind of horrible alien Prompto will eat his own shoes because there’s a picture of Jenova in the file and yeah, NOTHING HUMAN IS THAT SHADE OF BLUE kthanks). He digs even more through the mad ramblings, used to it after having to decipher ancient texts and Besithia’s mad rants with Ignis during the Long Night, and finds...

-Oh.

-That could be useful.

-Prompto treks down to the basement, then further down to a room filled with coffins. He wanders around until he finds the right one, flips it open, waits until the guy with Intense Vampire Vibes starts to wake up and ask who has disturbed his slumber, then interrupts with a cheerful, “I’m Cloud Strife. I’m going to steal everything in here I think is useful and then burn the rest to the ground. Do you wanna leave now or leave later when your cape is all crispy?”

-The man stares at him, “...What?”

-Cloud grins a little too wide and knows he looks very insane and ghoulish with the monster blood on his clothes, the dust and cobwebs in his hair, and the fire materia he’s juggling in his hands as he perches fearlessly on the edge of the coffin and simplifies, “Mansion go fwoof soon. You staying or leaving?”

-The man doesn’t seem to believe him, or even believe that he isn’t some kind of bad dream, so he just nudges Cloud off the coffin edge and shuts the top again. Cloud shrugs mentally, too frazzled and angry to care right now about Vampiric Drama Queens.

-He removes the relevant files that he’s found as well as any materia and weapons (and the diary of this one lady named Lucrecia who is apparently Sephiroth’s REAL mom and Mister Vampire’s former lover), then “borrows” a gas can from his mom’s shed and ensures that the dry, rotten floorboards of the mansion are thoroughly soaked in the stuff before wandering outside the back way, getting to a safe-ish distance and throwing a fireball through the broken window.

-The mansion does indeed make a loud and eager “fwoof” sound as it goes up in flames. Cloud watches the inferno with possibly too much maniacal laughter (hey he’s STRESSED okay? He’s getting the impression that HE’S the one the lifestream has decided to make it’s errand boy to save the world and he DOESN’T LIKE IT so just let him VENT), then laughs harder when a wall breaks open and out storms a slightly crispy and very unimpressed Vampire Drama Queen. Did Cloud maybe take too much glee in ensuring the gas had gotten into the basement too to make sure ALL  of the mansion went up? Probably. Did he regret it?

-No. Not in the slightest.

-One very unimpressed Vampire stare down that became genuine alarm when Cloud’s laughing fit turned into childish bawling later (stupid child stress hormones turning everything to tears when he least expected it, then again he’d always been a crybaby as Prompto in his own eyes) and Cloud leads Vampire Man home because he isn’t sure what else to do. He also makes Vampire Man (Vincent Valentine, the man sighs after the seventh time being called a Vampire) carry the diary and the most relevant papers down to his house. The other ones he hides in his cave for now, just in case.

-His mom breaks out the strong stuff halfway through Cloud’s story and shares sympathetic looks with Vincent over Cloud’s pyromania. Then he explains what he’s found and thinks about “Jenova” and while Vincent is skeptical, his mom has seen too much of Cloud’s weirdness not to believe him at this point. Cloud mentions that there are hints that at least some of the thing is up in the reactor. Storm cuddles up to her brother and solemnly asks if he’s going to go set the blue alien on fire too.

-Cloud says yes, Claudia sighs, and Vincent looks like he has a headache.

-Two weeks of preparations (and waiting out Shinra’s investigation of the fire, which they SOMEHOW deem an accident), a long hike, and some angry swearing from Claudia as she shorts out the security cameras (since when could his mom do that) later, and they have indeed found part of the blue alien woman. Their plan is interrupted when Vincent unexpectedly transforms into some kind of mini- dragon- monster- THING and aggressively fills the entire glass tank Jenova is in with blood red fire, but after THAT little episode is done, the Thing in Vincent’s skin eyes Cloud, starts laughing, calls him “the Chosen’s Little Argentum”, and cedes control back to one very dizzy Vincent.

-They all decide to call it a week after that.

...

Gonna wrap this up soon because ow my hands but some other thoughts on this is-

-Cloud and Storm start traveling to get answers and also to stay under Shinra’s radar, Vincent goes with because for some reason Chaos finds Cloud amusing and is willing to be quiet around the boy and also because this child CLEARLY needs a keeper and his pseudo-sister is his old partner’s DAUGHTER who was experimented on by Hojo and saved by Cloud so he can’t just leave now can he? Also the Lucrecia diary enlightens him to some things, like how Sephiroth is still alive and kicking (and currently sane!).

-Also Claudia comes with because she is a Good Mom and not about to let her 13 year old, her 11 year old, and a quasi-immortal Turk galavant around the countryside without adult supervision.

-Claudia and Vincent bicker like an old married couple and honestly Cloud is content to ship them so long as Vincent treats his mom right, and the ex-Turk would be amused by the Shovel Talk he gets early on if not for the sneaking suspicion (read: Chaos’s cackling) that this tiny blond menace guising as sunshine could actually pull it off, science immortality or no.

-Storm takes to swords like a duck to water and Cloud teaches her what he remembers, which is around the time Vincent asks about why Cloud Is The Way He Is and Claudia tells him that her son is a reincarnation. Honestly Cloud is just as flabbergasted as Vincent because since when did his mom know that?

-”Since you started talking in ancient forgotten languages during your hyper moments when you were four,” is the placid answer.

-They eventually wander into Midgar because What Is Self-Preservation and find Aerith. Aerith gloms onto Cloud and smiles a teary smile and calls him “Prompto” and that’s when he learns that Aerith is LUNA.

-They meet Zack outside of Midgar where Zack is playing Hunter rather than joining Soldier. Cloud and Zack stare at each other for like- twenty seconds before hugging for dear life and crying all over each other because it’s NOCTIS and THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH.

-Zack still has armiger magic and gives it to everyone involved save Vincent, who looks like he might actually have an aneurysm if anymore Weirdness gets attached to his soul. He already has two (now three and one absentee sort of fourth) crazy children to look after, please keep the ancient magic away from his already battered soul.

-Not sure who/if Iggy and Gladio are reborn as, I’ll think about it.

-Fixit shenanigans ensue. The Turks get converted to the cause because 1. Veld’s old partner is back and 2. his supposedly dead daughter shyly turns up decidedly NOT dead and with proof that Hojo experimented on her (he nearly flips a table and the scars on her hand from Prompto’s field surgery hurt Veld’s SOUL).

-Claudia is Team Mom of the Turks now, she’s not sure how.

-Zack and Cloud put their heads together and decide the PERFECT way to infiltrate and ruin Shinra’s hold on Sephiroth is to-

-Have one of them become his secretary/assistant. Cloud loses the coin toss, so now Sephiroth has a personal ray of sunshine and good morals following him everywhere like a stray kitten. It’s working WAY more than it has any right to.

-Someone (read: the newly converted to the cause Turks and a gleeful Vincent) start slipping Reeve data on what the mako reactors are really doing to the planet. Also Hojo ends up dead. So does Rupert.

-Also also Claudia is Rupert’s sister, so Rufus gets an aunt figure to imprint proper morals into his skull through love, sarcasm, and good food.

-There I’m out of thoughts on this AU for now.

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

@devintrinidad I meant to react to this earlier but . Anyway

Akudama Drive does wind up asking the question "what makes someone an Akudama?"

Is Takoyaki Lady doing anything illegal? Probably not, or not that we're aware. Though her practice of only taking cash is shady in and of itself. Is she trying to pay less taxes? And in that case - is she taking advantage of a loophole in the law (dubiously legal but legal nonetheless), or is she evading taxes (very illegal)?

Or perhaps is her shop unauthorised? Though there's another option... being that she can't afford the technology to take seal payments.

So we don't know for a fact that her practices are based in something shady. What we do know is that Courier goes to her shop for two reasons. One, he loves octopus balls. Two, he needs to shop in places that take cash.

Do the other shops all accept cash? That's an interesting question, but ultimately, it doesn't change that Takoyaki Lady's shop also has the advantage of being situated in a small street, somewhere without huge holographic posters plastered with Courier's face everywhere. Because of that, and her accepting cash, she has to know for a fact that her shop attracts Akudama.

Of course, the funniest take would be that she knows it and wants to encourage it, and as such did not hesitate to get a girlie sent to jail. What is most likely however is that she wants to be a proper seller, but is aware that her shop is a perfect spot for Akudama. In that way, she is presented as "an old lady in denial" or "an old lady with a bad sense for business", as she assumes that the vile Akudama coming to her shop are going to try and steal from her, rather than treasure it and keep it afloat.

This presents her as someone who probably isn't an Akudama, or if she is (via tax evasion, for example), doesn't believe herself comparable to "actual Akudama". She fears the stereotype of the Akudama and tries to keep herself extra safe by calling the police the second someone tries to swindle her.

A seller who acknowledges that their clientele is one of Akudama and takes advantage of it would likely be an Akudama themselves, for example for not denouncing them to the police; for being complicit. Takoyaki Lady teeters on the brink of being an Akudama herself, as she is probably highly aware of the likelihood that her clients are Akudama, but refuses to acknowledge it. Courier's face is easy to find on a Wanted poster, but he is able to purchase something from her in person easily.

The irony of the situation remains, of course, that Courier pays for his balls completely legally, and some random citizen is the one to be taken for a criminal. (So you don't have to take that supplementary shot for every time I say the A-word.) Takoyaki Lady is another one of these people who are at risk of being Akudama, and yet believe in the anti-Akudama propaganda which paints them as horrible, unrelatable beings.

tl;dr: worldbuilding

The complete irony of that takoyaki seller who only takes cash, which makes her shop a hot spot for Akudama who can't use their seal, having an innocent woman arrested for not having cash. Now that I think about it, maybe she was trying to turn her into a loyal client from lack of other options

[amazonswin]

Heather

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney (Total Drama)

Word Count: 2k

A/n: I really wanted to do a ‘Heather’ song fic so here it is! I guess you could says it’s total dramarama verse? But they’re all just in high school together. This is a lot sadder/angstier than I thought it would be, but I hope you like it!

—————

Me in your sweater

You said it looked better  

On me, than it did you 

Courtney didn’t usually like being outside in the middle of the night. There were too many bugs and too many things she couldn’t control. But somehow Duncan had convinced her to sneak out at 1am and drive to the most remote part of town. Out of all of his stupid spurr of the moment ideas, this was the only one she couldn’t seem to regret. Courtney wasn’t a calm person most of the time, there was too much she had to do. However, just the presence of Duncan melted that away, leaving her feeling absolutely perfect. 

For someone who built their reputation on being a bad boy, Duncan surprisingly knew a lot about the stars. Mainly, the best spots to sit and watch them. That was how Courtney found herself sitting upon the hood of his car on the edge of Arid cliff. There they sat pointing out various constellations, completely impervious to the outside world. 

Goosebumps prickled her skin as the night grew colder. As if on cue, Duncan took off his sweater and handed it to the brunette. It smelled exactly like he always had. Courtney quickly slipped it on, leaving the collar just above her chin. 

She smiled softly as she tucked her head on his shoulder. If anyone saw them, they’d be certain they were a couple. It was easy to get lost in each other, neither would have it any other way. Covered by a blanket of stars with the smell of the person she held closest to her, Courtney couldn’t help but to feel herself begin to drift off.

Only if you knew  

How much I liked you

One thing was clear, Courtney was hopelessly in love with Duncan. However, she absolutely did not want to be. They were so different, he was too reckless. There was no way she could tell him. Why risk ruining everything? 

The first time she laid eyes on him, he had kicked over her block tower. The tower she had planned out so meticulously, the one she had spent an hour carefully placing every block upon. He apologised, but she didn't buy it. Even at 4, she knew falsehood when she heard it. Then came that damn nickname. Every time she spoke her mind she was greeted with a smug smile and the word, “princess”. And yet, somewhere along the way they became inseparable.

When they were 12, Duncan snuck Courtney through his bedroom window because her parents had extended their business trip another week and she couldn’t sleep alone again. When they were 14, they stayed out all night after Duncan had yet another blow out with his father and needed to forget for a while. They were always together. He was her everything, her safety, her home.

I watch your eyes

As she  Walks by

Courtney knew she had to tell Duncan how she felt. Whether he liked her back or not, she couldn’t go on hiding it anymore. Her plan was perfect, she’d approach him before class and invite him over to her house later. This wouldn’t raise too many flags, as he’s usually there anyways. Once they were alone, she’d lay it all out, every response had already circled her head and she had a reaction planned for each. To seal the deal, Courtney decided to wear her favorite light pink sweater that fit just right. The one that was cut a little too low, that highlighted all the right curves, that Duncan had never been able to keep his eyes off of. 

His car was already in the lot as she pulled in. At the beginning of the year, Duncan had conned some Senior out of his spot so he could have the one right next to Courtney’s. It was their routine to bring each other coffee every morning, and today was Duncan’s turn. Courtney waited in her car for a few minutes, ensuring her makeup was to perfection. He didn’t show. As first period approached, she knew she couldn’t wait anymore. 

The lesson passed by like background noise, her mind constantly shifting to Duncan. As unreliable as he could be, he had never stood her up before. Even if he decided to play hookie, he had always texted her. He’d beg her to come with him and Courtney would always refuse, jokingly calling him a ‘ delinquent ’. But today there was nothing. 

She was at her locker when she saw him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. His eyes glued to another. Gwen joined Duncan at his locker, Courtney couldn’t hear them and couldn’t seem to look away. Gwen laughed as he ran his fingers through his hair, a telltale sign of his flirtatious attempt.

She's got you  

Mesmerized  

While I die

It had been a few weeks since Gwen and Duncan made it official. He had stopped hanging around as much as he used to. First it was slowly, their nightly get togethers consisted mainly of outgoing phone calls followed by complete silence. Courtney had never felt more alone.

Bridgette hated seeing her like this. Though it didn’t show, Courtney had always been one of the happiest people she knew. Bridgette couldn’t sit around and see her friend destroy herself. So, that was how Courtney ended up agreeing to an after school hang out.

She didn’t know it would be a group thing, or that it would include the two people she least wanted to see. When she reluctantly accepted Bridgette’s pizza invitation, she really hoped it’d just be the two of them. Yet here she sat in a booth, right across from her biggest regret. Courtney tried to focus on the slice in front of her, but her eyes felt desperately drawn to Duncan. Gwen sat snuggled up to him, nearly but not quite on his lap, his arm wrapped around her. Their constant laughter and little whispers scattered about. Duncan was completely mesmerized by Gwen, his gaze only set on her. 

It didn’t matter how much time they had spent together or what secrets they knew. Duncan had moved on, he wasn’t hers. Courtney wanted to vomit, to just stand and run. Her thoughts shouted at her to flee, but her legs didn’t budge. So there she sat, quietly dying.

Why would you ever kiss me?  

I'm not even half, as pretty

Courtney found herself entranced by the bathroom mirror, the fluorescent lights highlighting each and every blemish. She had spent the weekend alone again, with the sole intent of studying. People knew not to bother her when she got like this. Even if they had, she wouldn’t have noticed. 

To combat feelings of helplessness, she would push herself. Being in control meant never feeling so small, so worthless. Courtney had forced herself to focus on her studies completely. Law was her favorite, it was set in stone and nothing about it surprised her. So she pushed herself further, trying to learn, trying to forget.  

Tears began to stream down her face, her suppressed sobs making themselves known. Every past insecurity seemed to emerge all at once. She felt empty and forgotten. Her knuckles paled as she gripped the sink tighter. Duncan had never been hers. He had always been there, but he didn’t belong to her. For so long he had been her best friend, her constant, her everything. But now it was if she was nothing to him. How stupid could she be? Gwen had always been the obvious choice. She was exactly his type, they had everything in common. 

How could Courtney have been so oblivious to something so obvious? Why would Duncan ever have chosen her?

 But how could I hate her?  

She's such an angel  

Courtney wanted to hate Gwen. She had every reason to. After all, Gwen was the reason she wasn’t with Duncan. Hating her was easy, Gwen had never been her friend anyway. Before Duncan, she wasn’t even in the same friend group. There simply wasn’t any reason she would ever have to talk to her.

That was until Mr. Parker insisted the two pair up for the most recent history report. Courtney offered to do it herself, after all she knew the material like the back of her hand. But Gwen had refused, which was how they found themselves directly across from each other at Courtney’s dining room table. 

Courtney had decided this would be strictly business oriented, something Gwen had been completely oblivious to. 

“Do you think if we copied it straight from the textbook he’d even notice?” Gwen asked.

“Considering you're on a chapter about the Canadian confederation and the report is on World War II, probably” Gwen snickered, but Courtney barely looked away from the book. She had to keep her dignity, she had to hate Gwen.

“Yeah but Mr. Parker doesn’t have the best eyesight. We smudge a few words and maybe he’ll give it a B.”

“I’m not interested in getting B’s.” She turned the page, pressing the pen harder as she compiled the notes. 

“Okay, a C then” 

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh. As much as she hated it, Gwen was funny. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t be too agonizing.

With the ice a little thinner, the project flew by. She already had it planned out, of course, but Gwen did make some nice additions. As the hours flew by, laughter was much more present than work. Neither of them seemed to mind.

“Your house is so quiet.” Gwen pointed out, noting the stillness of the surrounding rooms. 

“I guess so.” Courtney quickly ducked her head downward, she had really hoped Gwen wouldn’t notice that.

“I mean it’s almost nine. Shouldn’t your parents be home or something?” It was meant to sound like a joke, yet she couldn’t deny the hint of worry.

“Oh, no. They don’t come home.” The words slipped out of her mouth, “I mean, they’re away on business so it’s okay.” Courtney wished she could escape this moment. She felt her protective shield slowly slipping away.

“Wow, I’m so sorry. Are they away a lot?”

“I’m used to it, It’s nothing I can’t handle.” There was no denying the tears forming in her eyes. 

She barely had time to wipe them away as Gwen reached over, pulling her into a tight hug. Courtney felt her face turn red. She had to hate this, she had to hate her.  Not knowing her made that so easy, but now? How could someone who cared so much about someone she barely knew be anything but angelic? There was no way she could keep blaming Gwen, that was clear. Yet, a small part of her still yearned to go back to before. Before Gwen existed, when Duncan was hers and hers alone. 

 You gave her your sweater  

It's just polyester, but you like her better

Courtney still tried to avoid the couple, though in less ways than before. As summer quickly approached, the group decided to go to the drive-ins to catch a movie they all wanted to see. As usual, they all brought camping chairs and blankets to huddle outside of the cars. They’d always discuss what was happening in the movie, just quiet enough to not disturb others. Gwen sat on Duncan’s lap. His hands fiddling with her hair, her occasionally feeding him popcorn. 

Courtney tried to ignore them, instead trying to focus on the movie. No luck. She wasn’t sure if it was love or obsession, but it consumed her. He was all she could think about. Risking another glance, the glass was shattered. Duncan took off his sweater and handed it to the goth. The same stupid sweater he lent her on their last perfect night. The sweater that smelt so much like him.

 It was just a sweater, just pieces of thread. But it was so much more than that, it was a symbol he was Gwen's. A symbol that Courtney wasn’t his whole world anymore, that someone new had taken the throne. She had to release him and let him be happy. Didn’t they both deserve that? 

Wish I were Heather

———

Tags: @savalc69

(Want to be added to my tag list for future fics? Let me know!)

[inviouswriting]

I Refuse to marry you! - Butler!AU

Aymeric x Kiya

Some triggers in mild eating disorder. 

Kiya blinked awake, she had gotten so use to the ceiling at House Fortemps she forgot where she was. She was back at her “home” she sighs as she thought she was finally free of this lifestyle. Being bartered with, for business, and all hinged on who she married. Her parents hope to bind contracts with Scaeva, what better way than marriage to ensure a permanent foot in their world.

Kiya had one maidservant who she trusted, Kivera. The maid had been there long before she was born, she always looked as if she never aged pass twenty. She never had the courage to ask her what her age. The question came up once, and she recalls Kivera pinning Lolorito to the wall with knives.

Kivera helped dress Kiya in silence, reading the air that she did not want to talk about her capture. Rather she didn’t feel like talking at all, so Kivera respected the silence and curled and braided her hair in a fashion she was told to do.

“Breakfast will be ready soon. I’ll bring it to you.” Kivera says and only gets a nod out of Kiya. The miqo leaves her ward be, not missing the way her eyes brimmed when she was alone. She had helped her escape, and seeing her returned to the house made her mad that her eyes turned a lovely shade of red.

She prepared a favorite of Kiya’s something she knows she’ll eat. As she cut food for it, she notes Ilberd coming into the kitchen.

“Are those plates ready? The masters are waiting.” Ilberd stands near Kivera, she simply ignores his voice. She was busy in her own world, and taking care of Kiya’s needs were higher than the masters. She had steadily seen the neglected meals, retrieved them since Kiya’s return. 

“The masters are your responsibility are they not? Why haven’t you made them their plates.” Kivera finally answers him.

“For a maid you have some real attitude. Be a delight to see that change after Kiya is married off and you go with her.” Ilberd doesn’t see the way Kivera grips her knife or the side eye his way. She let’s him continue to talk.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Kivera asks, venom already in her voice.

“You seem to be attached to her, it would only be fair that you go with the girl once she is married. She’ll of course need help with child-care. Lest the masters get a few out of her to seal their foot into Scaeva’s house.” Kivera feels the knife in her hand, a favorite she gotten from a tonberry, she knows its sharpness.

“So you know the whole plan for her? Married off, and to have children with someone she doesn’t love?”

“It doesn’t matter what she wants. This was decided for her when she was thirteen autumns. She would be married off to wealthy, then be a wife. That’s it. It’s a good thing we got her back before she gave herself to the first guy that took interest.” Ilberd speaks as if it was common knowledge, he doesn’t see the anger in Kivera’s face.

At that last bit, Kivera leaps and stabs the wall next to his head. She had taken four more knives and quickly stabs four points, two under his arms, one by his head, and one knife to hold close to his chest. She drove the knife next to his head deep into the wall behind him to where only the hilt poked out. 

Ilberd is shocked at her action, her normally green eyes a bright red. He wondered why and how they changed. He swallows hard as that knife is pointed towards his chest.

“Do not ever speak of her as a whore. Do not speak of Kiya in my presence like this. Or so help me, they will never find your remains. I’ll make sure you are left as chum bait for the pirates to use out there. She should be able to choose her life, like the other heiresses.” As she speaks, she takes the other knives and drives them deeper into the wall emphasizing her rage at him.

“If I ever hear you talk of her like that again. You will lose your manhood, and all the bits with it. More important. I will make sure that girl has escaped long before that happens. Now, you will wait like a good little boy for the kitchen to make the masters food. Get out of my sight!” Her voice was low in a growl, she pulled each knife out slowly and brandished the tonberry knife to his chest earning a mortified expression out of him. Ilberd scrambles out after getting one more threat with the knife, her slashing the air between them.

Kiya was sitting in the vineyard when Nero approached her. Kiya didn’t look up to greet him, just saw his boots. She rather be anywhere but trying to be courted by this man. The feeling was mutual, Nero actually had less desire in her. however he is a man of business, and she was the deal between houses. Enough support and publicity for his own house.

So there they are, reluctantly engaged for different reasons. He sees the anger in her eyes. He could end this whole charade, dismiss her, label her free. Yet he keeps her because her family has marketing trade through Lolorito. He does not. Lolorito said to marry into the wine house before he would even consider his wares and trades.

“Look, Kiya. I know you dislike me. If your house had other daughters we wouldn’t be here.” Kiya narrows her eyes at him, and Ilberd fresh from his encounter with Kivera stumbles onto them.  Kiya remains quiet, preferring not to talk to any of the house save for Kivera. Who actually listens to her pleas. 

Ilberd tries his luck, Kiya had not spoken since her arrival, and he noted her losing weight from lack of eating. Her silent defiance completely withdrawn from the men of the house. All she does is glare at both of them.

“It is best you forget the Fortemps house. Soon enough we’ll be announcing your engagement at the banquet at Ala Mhigo’s halls. You’ll be able to see them there before your marriage.” This earns her eyes narrowing to near slits she looks away from him. 

The last thing she would want is Aymeric to see her being married to another person. At least a glimmer to see him. But she wonders if he just went back to his own life. They didn’t know each other enough. Yet she finds herself missing his face, and those she had grown to like in their simple ways of life than these elaborate schemes, parties, and she yearns for that life. 

“I won’t forget them, nor will there ever be a day I’ll accept this.” Kiya gets up and starts to walk back to the house. Not without giving Nero a glare and raising her hand to point angrily at him.

“I refuse to marry you!” Kiya storms off, her tail twitching angrily as she walks back to her room. She sees the meal left for her by Kivera, and something else. A unique little teacup, a blue rimmed one. A note attached.

“Kiya, I found this within your belongings. I am guessing someone left you a secret present. Please eat something... If you want your prince back, you need to be well. Also there is a letter for you, I placed that in your nightstand eat before you read it.” Kiya smiles at the cup, and takes a bite of the food given to her. Cherishing the cup as it has a warmth to it more than the tea in it.

~~~~~~~~House Fortemps~~~~~~~~~

Aymeric sighs as he skims book after book, looking for something to use. He knows there is something, he had Matoya give him all the documents Kiya had signed before she entered into the world of the maidservices. Haurchefant was reading through books on the same subject. 

“Any luck?” Haurchefant asks. He puts the book he had with the pile that had grown on the floor. Aymeric was seated while he stood. He sees Aymeric’s eyes scour through text, how he looked so calm. He had asked his friend Lucia who was the head of the law division about the situation.

“If she had signed something, it could hold, but remember she was a runaway. From a well prestigious house no less. We have a few days before that engagement party. We need to give her something when we see her.” Aymeric answers as Haurchefant sits on the edge of the desk. 

Haurchefant was about to say something when Aymeric’s eyes widen and a huge grin spreads across the normally stoic face.

“You find something?” He asks, and Aymeric nods while pointing to a passage in the book.

“I did. And it holds. Let’s go show Lord Edmont. To clarify, she signed Ishgardian maidservants right?”

“Look at you bending earth and heaven for this girl. Yes she did.” Haurchefant passes Aymeric a bookmarker and ink to highlight the spot to not lose it.

“You would do the same for Laurelis.” Aymeric earns a grin from Haurchefant. 

“Says here, that women who enter into Ishgardian services forfeit their claims of their households so that they’re treated as equals among their peers. I signed the same thing a long time ago from House Borel. By this, she belongs in Ishgard, in her house she is assigned to until the house deems her either unfit, or she marrys out of it. No wonder they’re so hot for her to marry now.” Aymeric recounts this to Edmont, who beams at both men.

“You did your research well. Now, remember the engagement party is just an announcement. Not a wedding, this is our opportunity to expose this. But be prepared for backlash there.” Both nod, and go on about what they should do.

~~Letter~~

“Kiya,

I heard you are not enjoying your home. To be expected when your real home is with us at House Fortemps. I write to you, because a curious letter came to me asking for help in giving you some uplifting thoughts. Myself and Haurchefant are reading book after book to find something to break your arrangement. I do ask that you stay strong for me. I do not know if you found my gift for you. Keep it safe, it is the one I use. I hope for the time being it brings you comfort. 

Aymeric~” 

[scribeofmorpheus]

The Rebel Queen (i)

Chapter One: Immolation

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 6k | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: We finally get to meet our new protagonists and have a little bit of Poe towards the end. I had a lot of issues with this first chapter. I wrote and rewrote it three times before scrapping it and starting again. I was also anxious no one would want to read something that’s 90% OC’s. If you want to read the original version lmk, I’ll add it as a deleted scene. Expanded lore linked below:

Epilogue | About Thesmora

"Always find the courage to stand, my child," a beautiful smile graced over Lenora's timeless features, her hand reaching down. "For as long as you believe you have the strength to keep going, then you will have the strength to keep going.“

Young Calista rubbed at her cheeks, wiping hot tears away as she dusted her trousers and accepted her mother's outstretched hand. The sounds of her brother’s laughter tickling at her ear.

“Remember Calista, just because you got knocked down, doesn’t mean you belong there.” Lenora helped her daughter to her feet, glancing over at the golden shores of the beach, a content look in her eyes.

 Karas the Ancient City on Thesmora…

Ash rained down from the smoke-blackened sky, a shadow cast over the white and gold flag that stood crooked in the courtyard.

Dark purple flowers trampled by lifeless bodies, the polished silver and gold armour of the Royal Guard was covered in specks of uprooted soil and soot.

An explosion in the distance heaving sand and dirt and roots out from the ground.

Princess Calista Ordell stared at her mother's funeral pyre, the flames long since dead. The smoke dancing like a sickly phantasm weighed down by gravity, trapped by the heavy air filled by a melancholy that clung to everything. Today was meant to mark the first day in a hundred days of mourning, but instead it had turned into the first day in a long number of days to be plagued by violence and turmoil.

Calista was numb to the pain. Numb to the distant sounds of explosions and boots crushing over the ancient city’s stone steps. Thesmora had lost a queen and she had lost a mother and on the eve of Lenora’s burial, the planet had lost what little hope there was for peace. Then Duchess Maligma had made a rallying cry. Traitors became patriots, brother took up arms against brother and now Thesmora was under the iron fist rule of a power-hungry tyrant.

Martial law was declared, what was once a monarchy in transition for Calista’s rule, was now a military state ripped apart by infighting and bloodshed.

All it took was one day for the galaxy to change. One day for Calista's life to fall apart. When the First Order unleashed the might of its arsenal against the Alliance, no one had been prepared for the devastation that followed. Seven planets -spinning, revolving, evolving- there one moment and gone the next, billions of lives lost succeeded by a fallout of immeasurable proportions.

Fearing for her people, the Duchess had killed her own sister after she had refused to side with the order. And even though the resistance had destroyed Star-Killer base, they had been too late to stop the panic and fear from spreading across the galaxy.

"Princess," the faint sounds of a trusted voice forced its way into the crevices of Calista’s foggy mind, shaking her from her stupor. "Princess, it isn't safe. We must get you to safety!"

Calista looked up, dazed and confused, eyes red from the salt in her tears. Her protector and long-time friend, Koa Kiddé, grabbed onto her shoulder and shook her fiercely. The wind blew her long silken hair furiously, the sunburst orange ends flickering like an open flame around her face. A look of determination turning her beautiful features stone cold. Her honey-coloured eyes drawing narrower with every wasted second.

"Now, princess!" Koa yanked her to her up.

Calista looked down at her feet planted atop the flower bed and remembered a phrase her mother would always mutter in trying times, "Find the courage to stand."

Koa held out her hand, the other armed with a viro-blade, urging Calista to take it.

Hand in hand the girls ran out of the courtyard and away from the only home they knew. Soldier's clad in black armour filing into the once lush and colourful space, covering it like ants on an anthill. Calista’s crown sinking further into the dirt as synchronised marching lifted the weak soil off the ground.

To win this war they would have to lose this battle.

 Calista’s feet began to blister, her breathing ragged and shallow.

"If we hurry we should be able to catch a shuttle heading to Yotai, from there it will be easy to find ourselves a pilot willing to smuggle us out of the Outer Rim," Koa strategized.

"We won't get far dressed like this," Calista pointed at her ceremonial robes and Koa's Royal Guard attire. "And we'll need credits."

Koa hummed in agreement.

"We have no choice," Calista sighed. "We head for the race tracks and speak with Banden Murray."

"I would rather die than watch you sully your reputation by getting into business with that thug," Koa spit in distaste.

Calista looked around the housing complexes in search of clothes or material left out to dry. She spotted a purple poncho with a hood and pulled it over her clothes, obstructing the royal seal embroidered onto her breastplate.

"That may very well come to pass sooner than you think," Calista warned. "Our allies are scarce, Mokk-Toh has vanished and there are whisper's that Maligma is in talks with the First Order. My options are limited. Murray is the only option."

Koa clicked her tongue in distaste, "the thought of being bantha fodder is more comforting, but you are right. Without resources, we'd be shooting in the dark."

"Then we're in agreement," Calista nodded before heading away from the transport station and towards the race tracks.

 The Shallow Pits…

The sound of pod-racers whooshed past, dust picking up and filling the air with the scent of grease, smog and engine fuel. The harmonising soundwaves of pods whirring in stasis trembled out through the orange and red rock depressions. The stands which were always filled with up-roaring fans were all but deserted. Posters and flyers advertising for a big race blowing about like unattended children.

Calista kept her head low as she manoeuvred through the sparse crowd of derelicts, gamblers, mercenaries and smugglers that frequented the race tracks. A few strange faces would occasionally do a double-take once they noticed her fine shoes didn't match her worn poncho, luckily Koa's frightening glare and imposing demeanour would scare any potential whistleblowers away.

"Hey, hey, hey, only Thessi with invitations are allowed beyond this point," a mercenary held up his hand, guarding the back entrance to the observation decks. He was an inch away from touching Calista's shoulder.

Koa unsheathed her sword with lightning quick reflexes, the heat from the plasma charge bathing the mercenary’s neck in a yellow glow, "Lay a hand on her and you lose it." Koa threatened.

"Stand down," Calista calmed her before looking up at the wide-eyed mercenary, sweat trailing down his neck -the viro-blade still painfully close to his artery. Koa's disciplined stance barely allowing for the long sword to sway.

Calista lifted the poncho to reveal the sigil, "I have a feeling your boss will make an exception about the invite rule."

The merc gulped and hit the wall panel with his elbow. The door opened with a hiss and a gust of air. "Go on ahead."

Koa sheathed her blade, yellow glow subsiding from the mercenary’s pale neck before following after Calista.

 "A visitor to see you, boss," one of Murray's assistants introduced Calista. "And her bodyguard." Koa walked in right after.

Banden Murray was a tall, muscly man with thick hair the colour of tar. His skin paled in comparison to all his compatriots, making him stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town, but he didn't mind that. Murray was more outsider than native, but he had declared Thesmora his home after retiring from whatever occupation he had before.

He was widely respected by the public for being the head of the mining union with connections to various peoples of power. What few beyond the senate seat knew was that he was also an information broker with a vast network of spies who had dealings with both the Resistance and the First Order. Many believed he had amassed this network after the first rebellion ended, though none knew for sure which side he had been pledged to at the time, or if the story held any merit considering no one knew his age. If the lines on his face were any indication, he was probably past his prime years.

"Ah, I never thought I'd see the day when royalty would walk into my establishment of their own volition," Murray smirked as he leaned further into his chair, a multi-coloured poncho draped over his heavily tattooed arm. The only legible tattoo was of a name scribed over his chest: Ashani.  "Please, sit."

Calista accepted his show of hospitality, Koa, however, made it a point to stand in defiance. Murray cocked his head at Koa before bringing his sights back on Calista.

"So, princess," sarcasm dripped from his tone. "How may I be of service?"

Koa's hand balled in a fist.

Calista brushed his brazen attitude aside, "I need a favour."

"Do go on," he encouraged with a wave of his hand.

"We have a contact waiting for us at Yotai who will get us out of the Outer Rim. All we need is safe transport off-world."

Murray chuckled under his breath, "Your contact wouldn't happen to be Senator Kiddé by any chance?"

Calista's eye's flickered to Koa's instinctively, her guardian, in turn, clenched her jaw with a bitter expression.

Murray had gotten his answer.

"I suspected as much," Murray snapped his fingers, ushering one of his drones with a heavily tattooed face to bring a box into the room. "He was taken captive by the Thessi Garrison a few days ago. We were able to… re-appropriate several of the personal belongings he had on him."

"Need anythin' else boss?" She asked, eyeing the two outsiders.

Banden shook his head, the rings on his fingers knocking against each other when he weaved them together, elbows propped up on the table. "I'm told he and several other outspoken supporters of yours are being transported to Illis –to the Cairn- on a shuttle tonight."

Koa's hands began to shake and Calista caught on cue, asking Murray the question that was undoubtedly plaguing her friend's mind, "Any news on his wife, the Baroness?"

"We've heard chatter underground that she fled to the safety of Naboo not too long ago," Banden replied.

Koa's shoulders relaxed slightly upon hearing the news.

"With the senator no longer at our disposal, we may have a harder time getting off-world," Calista said gravely.

Banden let out a low rumble, "Then I suppose its fate that you came to my door." He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, his tall frame leaning against the desk with folded arms. "I know a good pilot. Trustworthy. Man of his word. He can get you where you need to go, for a fee of course."

Calista sized him up, "I suppose you have conditions of your own for helping us?"

"I do indeed," Banden pulled out a lighter and burnt the ends of his pipe, filling the light deprived room with puffs of white smoke. "Wars are a tricky business. Lucrative, but tricky. I believe you'd be worth the gamble though. I can help you, be your eyes and ears on the ground. Pass information to and from. I could be your inside man, help topple this totalitarian regime your devious aunt has erected." A wicked leer pulled at his thin lips.

Calista's fingers began to drum against the chair's armrest, one of her nervous ticks.

"What's the trade?" Koa said bluntly, her voice sharp as glass.

Banden blinked as though he hadn't the slightest clue as to what she was inferring.

"Men like you, you covet one thing: power. How does helping us get you what you want?" Koa took a step forward, challenging as was her nature.

"It's simple. If you manage to overthrow this current uprising and restore balance, I want a seat on the senate… and the deeds to the prison," his steely blue eyes fell back onto the princess.

Calista's gaze snapped to his, their eyes clashing like mud and crystal. "That is no small ask."

"Neither is helping two wanted fugitives escape from the clutches of a power-mad warmonger," Banden's voice was no longer gentle, his lungs sucking in air through his lit pipe. The scent of burning sticking to everything.

"How do we know you aren't in Maligma's back pocket?" Koa asked through a narrow glance.

"I am," Banden admitted freely. "I'm in everyone’s back pockets. The resistance, the order, the cartels… everyone. I even did the odd job for the late queen now and again."

"Lies!" Koa barked, jaw muscles working hard.

"It makes sense," Calista said regrettably. "A man of your connections is an invaluable asset." She stood from the chair, determination pulling her brows together. "I cannot promise you the rights to the prison, Murray. Nor am I inclined to believe you won't just betray us once we get on a ship… but, I can assure you, that once I take my throne back, all of Thesmora will know of your role and perhaps that would be evidence enough for the senators to allow you to slink your way into a seat of power." Even though her words were low and controlled, it wasn't enough to fully flatter the mobster.

"If you succeed, we'll bring this discussion up again at your coronation." Banden held out his hand.

Calista knew she was making a deal with the devil, but she had few good choices left. She accepted Banden's hand tentatively, a new alliance forming under the roof of a desolate betting establishment.

"We'll be needing disguises," Calista informed him.

Banden whistled, ushering a skittish droid into the room. "Cory will handle any of your needs."

"And the pilot?" Calista asked.

Banden chuckled again, "He's down by the docking ramps off-loading cargo. I'll let him know you're on the way and I'll handle any remunerations he may require..." Calista motioned to leave when Banden informed her, "For now at least. There are no free favours in this world. I will come knocking if you live through this." 

"You'll get what you're owed," Calista's voice was smeared with venom, no longer playing the composed little princess.

“Trust me, I know.” Banden returned to his seat, boots resting on his desk. “Oh and princess, if you run into Felix, tell him his loan is overdue.”

The mention of Felix’s name caused Calista’s breath to hitch, the first sign of her level of distress.

 Calista changed into the bright orange mechanic overalls Cory had given her while Koa riffled through the crate with her father's belongings.

"You know," Calista pulled the cloth that separated them. "I think I'd make a good mechanic." Calista tried to smile in the hopes it would ease Koa from her worries.

Koa looked up at her, fishing out a small blaster rifle and holster and tossed it to her, "A gift from our gracious business partner.” She was dressed in tattered clothes. Tears and holes peppering the purple cloak that obscured her viro-blade's sheath behind her back. Black boots scarred by scuff marks.

Calista buckled the worn holster around her thigh and waist, "You don't approve."

It wasn't a question, Koa hadn't tried to hide her feelings about this plan from the start.

"That's why you're the diplomat and I'm the shield," Koa said flatly, her fingers running over the knot-work ridges of an eye-catching necklace.

"It's beautiful," Calista moved closer, tying up her long hair into a professional bun that hid her auburn tinted ends.

Koa held up the chain to the light, the octagonal metal charm scattering the beams of light into an artificial rainbow. "I've never seen it before. I don’t think it belonged to my father." Koa tossed it back into the crate, her hands gripping the edges until her knuckles turned pale.

"Hey," Calista placed her hand over Koa's, urging her to let go. "Maligma won't hurt him, he's too valuable as a prisoner. We'll save him. I promise."

Koa ground her teeth together, before lifting up the box to carry, "Let's focus on getting you somewhere safe."

Calista glanced at their distorted reflection on a polished surface. With their hair concealed and their normal clothes cast aside, they shared a remarkable resemblance. Inattentive eyes would easily mistake them for cousins, even perhaps sisters. Despite their similar bone structure and eye slant, Koa was the more beguiling of the two, with her enviable height and toned build.

Koa pulled an old cap off a hook and fixed it over Calista's head, the brim shielding her eyes from view, "Now you look like a crew member on a pirate ship." 

 The ship hanger housed three star-ships. One was an old Mon Calamari cruiser that looked to be a former warship, probably salvaged by Murray and his thieves after the war. The other was a beaten up rust bucket with only one working engine, parts pulled from it for salvage and left to gather on the floor like a machines graveyard. The final ship was also a relic of the past, but the colourful paint job slapped on made it look a little newer, a little shinier. Bold letters ran across its side spelling out the word Somnambulist.

As Calista and Koa got closer, they heard the odd ramblings of an unfamiliar dialect. A stout, burly man with an extended belly, greasy hair and an unkempt beard was shouting up at someone working a plasma torch. Calista guessed by the grease-stained medals pinned to the man's small jacket that he was most probably their pilot, Odhen Boro.

Murray told them Odhen used to be one of the best pilots on their side of the quadrant, a veteran in the Resistance too, but he had quit right around the time the First Order popped up.

"Don't give me excuses, one-eyed wonder, you said you'd have the tailpipe fixed hours ago!" Odhen shouted up at a small creature standing on a ladder that had been wheeled under an engine thruster, his miniature frame dressed in a brown get-up.

"Is that a Jawa?" Koa leaned close to ask.

Calista hummed in thought, "I've never seen one, but the fiery attitude and loud shouting would seem to back up that assumption."

The Jawa moved his arms frantically about, his voice small and high pitched. It would have been adorable if not for the flesh searing torch he wielded recklessly.

"Yeah, yeah, don't give me that crap. Just get the damn thing fixed," Odhen ran a hand through his beard, curly follicles falling away at the contact. He stared down at the shed hair strands and groaned in disgust. "Great… next thing I'll start going bald."

The Jawa shouted something else and this time Odhen's nostrils flared, "Yeah, well you aren’t getting’ any younger either, pip-squeak!"

"Odhen Boro I presume?" Calista startled the two hot-tempered males.

Odhen scratched at his beard as he tried to place the strange women standing before him. The Jawa sighed and threw a bolt at him, shouting again in quick, unintelligible words.

The pilot grumbled something under his breath before wiping the engine fluid from his fingers onto his less than white shirt, "My mechanic over here tells me you're our haul. The princess and her bodyguard, right?"

Koa kept her eyes fixed on the Jawa, the initial wonder from seeing a new species still working its way through her mind.

"That's Ton-Ton, my mechanic who's living up to his title less and less with more time wasted. His chatterin’ droid is around here somewhere -lookout for anything that rolls," Odhen's voice was nonchalant as he made his way to the entrance. "I'm guessing the princess has never seen a Jawa before?" he asked as he started lugging crates to and fro.

"Uhh," Calista glanced in Odhen's direction, realising he had mistaken Koa for her. "Actually, no. Koa has never seen a Jawa before. Neither have I. I didn't think they ventured out so far from their homeworld."

"Usually not," Odhen grunted as he lifted another crate. "Ton-Ton has a penchant for getting into trouble. You all set?"

Koa walked past them, setting the crate down in the cargo hold.

"I should think so," Calista told him.

"You hear that Ton-Ton?" Odhen shouted out into the hanger. "We're all waiting on you!"

The Jawa replied in his native tongue and Odhen tugged on his sleeveless jacket in frustration, "What do you mean I can't afford a real mechanic? You're supposed to be a real mechanic!"

"Is this thing safe to fly?" Koa asked, staring up at the ceiling and the leaking pipes.

"This beauty hasn't killed me yet," Odhen said passively.

Koa and Calista shared a troubled glance. Their looks were deterred by the rumbling of unfastened items placed recklessly about the cargo hold. For a moment, everyone stood still, watching, waiting. Then the walls of the ship began to shake and the Jawa cried out as the ladder started to roll, his plasma torch falling to the ground and igniting a tarp on fire.

"What was that?" Koa asked, hands held out to steady herself.

Calista kept looking around as the shaking intensified, "They feel like micro-quakes."

"Seismic charges!" Odhen's eyes grew wide as shouted after the Jawa, "Ton-Ton get your scrawny little ass in here, we're about to have some very angry guests!"

The Jawa scurried on stunted legs dragging a red trolley filled with tools along with him, the flaming tarp left to itself. Ton-Ton shouted after Odhen just as the hanger bay’s ceiling caved in and a troop of Elites rappelled down, firing off rounds from their hand cannons. Their black armour forming one uniform black line in the distance.

"Forget about it, as long as we can take off without blowing up, it's not important!" Odhen waved the Jawa into the ship as he pressed the button for the cargo bay doors to close. A plasma round scorching a heated circular hole into the wall next to the pilot. "Hurry up, spanner head!"

The Jawa waddled faster, managing to get on board at the last second, his red trolley banging against a set of crates.

"Can one of you fly?" Odhen asked.

"I trained for three years but only with smaller fighters," Calista said.

"That don' matter, a seat is a seat," Odhen jogged heavily to the cockpit. "Come on."

Just as Calista made her way to follow, she noticed the Jawa pulling Koa below deck. A sign pointing down to the gun turrets was placed right above the maintenance hatch that Ton-Ton pried open with a wrench.

Odhen didn't bother strapping himself in as he flipped switches and spun the Somnambulist to the side so the turrets would face the advancing militia.

"Sit down, strap in and do as I tell you, kid."

Calista slid into the seat, buckling the seat belt. The ship groaned and shook as several blasts bombarded the outside walls.

"Easy there girl," Odhen smoothed the flat surface of the dashboard with his free hand while the other pushed the navigation stick to the side. He snapped on his headgear and tuned the station until the static turned into rapid-fired words coming out in Jawaese. "Stop clogging up the channels, Ton-Ton! I hear ya! It's not like I'm trying to get shot at on purpose!"

Odhen pressed the ignition button and the whole ship thrummed with new life. A spray of blaster fire hit at the windshield, "Hey shorty, try shootin' at somethin' will ya? I can't be the only one doin' the heavy liftin'." He barked into his headset, snapping his fingers at Calista. "Hey kid, turn us starboard to 45 degrees and then push down that switch so our flaps descend."

Calista followed his instructions, breathing deeply through her nostrils so she wouldn't lose her composure. The sound of the ships cannon's firing off was loud enough to send trembles through to her spine. She felt like she was inside the belly of a giant turbine.

Even though the advancing soldiers were out of view, the sound of explosions signalled that several of the Elite's forces had just been taken off the board. Calista squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, refusing to allow herself to feel any pity or remorse.

"Nice going buddy," Odhen cheered in the headset through shaky laughs. He tried the button for the hanger bay doors but it was unresponsive. Swearing under his breath, Odhen chimed into his headset. "Ton-Ton, I need you to blow up the hanger doors. The receiver isn't transmittin’."

More Jawaese filled the radio and Odhen simply pulled his headset over his ear. Noticing Calista's hand was shaking over the nav-stick he tapped her arm with two fingers. "Hey, kid," he snapped his fingers at her and she pried her eyes open. "I need you to stay focused. You're my co-pilot now. Can you handle that?"

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Calista nodded tightly, screwing her lips into a stern straight line, eyes focused on getting them out of the hanger and towards the horizon peaking over the blown open doors.

The Somnambulist took a hell of a beating as its parking legs folded into the base of the ship, its weight no longer grounded. The force of the attacking Elite's made the ship shake, the old bolts and screws groaning out.

Odhen punched the nav-stick as far down as it would go and the ship burst from the hanger at impressive speeds.

"I need you to keep a steady grip otherwise the torque will pull us into a tail-end spin," he informed Calista.

The ship tilted to the side, threatening to spin out just as he had warned, causing an animatronic scream to burst through the ship. The sound of tires rolling uncontrollably prompted Calista to peek at what was going on.

In the back, a legless droid seated atop another red trolley, rolled from an open compartment and into the stacks of boxes in the cargo hold.

"Woah!" The droid shouted as a crashing noise erupted.

Odhen clicked his tongue, "Damn droid..." He pulled his headset back over his ear. "Hey shorty, you forgot to secure your damn droid!"

In frustration, Calista peeled her headset off, trying to remain concentrated with flying instead.

Odhen raised a brow her way and she simply shrugged.

"He talks a lot."

"I hadn't noticed." Odhen laughed. "Alright kid, I'll take over from here. Hold on, I'm punching us into hyperdrive. Got any requests?"

"Anywhere as long as it's not here," she offered, palms running across her face as she let out a huff.

 The stars raced across the screen like a thousand shooting stars raining around the ship. The Somnambulist had stopped groaning from all the offensive fire and was now groaning from the intense speeds it was flying at. The sounds were similar but also different, less nerve-wracking.

Calista sighed as she stood from the co-pilot seat, staring longingly at the dashboard. There had been a time when the prospect of flying a ship as large as this one would have brought her joy, but right now her heart was too heavy to allow anything other than despair in.

"You aren't such a bad shot," Koa's voice praised out to the waddling Jawa. Ton-Ton said something in his native tongue in response. Koa hummed flatly before answering: "I'll pretend I understood what you said."

"He said he thought you weren't so bad yourself," the animatronic voice spoke out. "I hope I'm not being too imposing but… would one of you help me up? I'd do it myself but I have no legs."

Koa looked to the droid in the cargo hold and walked towards him, disappearing from Calista's view. Following suit, Ton-Ton hobbled over, his arms waving about.

Odhen sighed before pulling off the headset and standing from the seat with much effort, his belly brushing against the dashboard.

"Let's go see what that’s about."

 "I am immensely grateful... Miss?" The droid asked Koa as she pulled him into his trolley. The Jawa pulled out some tape from his long cloak and tried to affix the droids severed torso onto the trolley more securely.

"Knight-Captain Koa'lianu Kiddé." she greeted overly formally. “Koa for short.”

“Knight-Captain?” Odhen mouthed to himself.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Protocol Droid M8-T7 but my master calls me Watts and so does the Captain," Watts saluted at Odhen. "I must extend my deepest apologies to you both," Watts continued.

Koa squinted her eyes in confusion, "Why?"

"When my mobility device rolled away, I accidentally crashed into your box of personal belongings. I landed on this data chip storage device and crushed its outer casing," Watts held out the necklace from before. "I hope the casing wasn't sentimental to you."

"Data chip?" Koa asked, glancing at Calista with a bemused appearance.

Ton-Ton snatched the necklace from his droids hands before Calista had the chance. His small hands bringing the shiny metal object up to his singular eye, his voice muttering something in thought as he snapped the rest of the casing off.

"Hey, hey," Odhen pointed disapprovingly. “We talked about this. Don't go stealin' shiny things. That's the reason you ended up on my ship remember? Give it back to the princess…“ Odhen pointed at Koa who in turn looked at him with a furrowed brow, “So you can get to work on the lower hull, we may have a leak to fix remember?"

"A leak?" Calista asked frantically.

"Don't worry, the most damage it could do is--" Odhen was halted from his speech when the ship suddenly fell out of hyperdrive, the momentum of the sudden stop forcing everyone to jolt forward and brace onto something for support. "Drop us out of hyperspace. Damn." He finished with a glum expression and a snap of his fingers.

Ton-Ton rambled something, his tone indicating he wasn't about to do as Odhen asked.

Watts, seeing that Koa and Calista were unfamiliar with the ships dynamic, started translating, "Ah, it seems Master Ton-Ton believes I may have damaged the data chip, but he thinks he may be able to salvage whatever was on it if you give him permission."

"Well, Princess?" Koa cocked her head to the side, staring at the hyper-active Jawa. "The choice is yours."

"Princess?" Odhen sounded shocked. "Did you know she wasn’t the princess this whole time?" He asked Ton-Ton pointing at Koa again.

Ton-Ton replied with a dismissive wave as he started tinkering with the data chip.

Odhen gaped at his small friend, "And you didn't say anything?"

Calista knelt next to the Jawa, looking him in his one good eye and nodding hesitantly, "If this data chip was with your father, stands to reason there's something important on it. Play the message."

Ton-Ton pried a panel on the back of Watts's head, moving some wiring around before slotting the data chip into the droid's head.

A hologram of a miniaturised dancing Twi’lek appeared a few feet away, her body translucent and blue. The Jawa knocked Watts on the head with a spanner before shouting at him disapprovingly.

"Oops, terribly sorry, wrong recording," the droid apologised.

This time a new hologram filled the room. It was life-sized, blue and equally translucent yet somehow more alive than the one before.

Calista let out a chocked gasp as her eyes fell on the recorded version of her mother. She was just as beautiful as she remembered and even more regal in her favourite blue gown. Her long hair falling to her elbows, a blue pin the shape of a bird clipping two braids together.

Odhen whistled in the air, his eyes widening as he shifted to get a better look at her face. Koa walked over to place an encouraging hand on Calista’s shoulder.

 "My daughter," the hologram began. "If you are watching this, then it is too late for me. I failed to see my plans come to fruition. Thesmora has always been peaceful, even during times of war and we have taken pride in that. But, I fear we may no longer be allowed to remain a neutral planet in this ever growing conflict. In truth, I do not believe we should.

I watched, helplessly, during the first war that ravaged his galaxy. I had the power to shift the balance and I chose not to do so. Yes, I had a responsibility to my people to keep them safe from the ravages of war, and I did that, but as a result, an entire planet was destroyed and we allowed a force of evil to continue its reign of terror on others.

Now that evil has returned, different and yet the same. My spies tell me the First Order is building a weapon of mass destruction, much like the one the Empire used to destroy Alderaan. I cannot in good conscience allow this evil to grow, I cannot stand back and use the safety of my people as an excuse again. We must declare allegiance. Maligma disagrees, I've never seen her so frightened before. I fear she may do something rash in her blind ambition to keep Thesmora out of this war."

Lenora's chin touched her collarbone as she took a strong and purposeful breath before looking up with steeled conviction and continuing on: "I have entrusted this data chip to Senator Kiddé, he is one of the few I trust unequivocally. The other is with Mokk-Toh. I sent him in my stead to be my voice and negotiate our terms with the Resistance. There is no one else I would trust to carry my words more."

A smile appeared on Lenora's face, "The data chips work as a set. Put them together and they reveal the location of several bomber star-ships intended for General Leia, as a show of good faith. Get this data chip to Mokk-Toh, the two act as beacons once separated. Follow the signal to his location… In case I'm not around to tell you this, know that I love you, always."

 The hologram stopped and Calista stared into her mother’s face for what felt like an eternity, the silence disturbed by Odhen's dry coughing. Koa side-eyed him as he beat his chest, trying to clear his airways.

"Stop the recording," Calista's voice was feather-light.

Watts's mechanical eye stopped projecting the recording. The blue glow dissipating from the walls of the ship.

"Can you trace the location of the other beacon?" Calista asked the Jawa.

Ton-Ton nodded before going to work behind Watts. A spark and fizzle popping out before a new projection painted the room blue again.

Koa walked closer to the map to get a better look at the location of the beacon. Her finger hooked in a circle around her chin as she examined the map further. "I'm not familiar with these co-ordinates but this section of the map looks familiar."

Odhen grumbled when he looked at the map, "I don't know why it would. That's Takodana, a pirate haven. One of the few places free from the Resistance and First Order's squabblin'. It's not governed by the Cartels neither."

"Set a course, Captain," Calista said confidently, no longer kneeling on one knee.

"It'll take us some time since we can't initiate the hyperdrive without blowin’ ourselves up," Odhen rubbed the skin on his neck. "You may want to grab some shut-eye on the way, I'll go make sure we don't fly into any debris. Space is littered with broken chunks since they fired that Star-Killer... Ton-Ton come on. I don't pay you second mate rates for nothin'."

Ton-Ton spoke in his usual hurried tones.

"What do you mean I don't pay you?" Odhen banged on the roof of the cargo hold with a closed fist. "You got shelter over your head don't ya?" Odhen rolled his eyes and headed off. "Pssh, I don't pay you. Maybe I would if you didn't have a stomach the size of a bantha, ever think of that?" He grumbled to himself.

Ton-Ton fixed up Watts' exposed control panel, handed the necklace back to Calista and placed a long piece of piping in the droid's hands before going off to join Odhen in the cockpit.

"Master Ton-Ton says I am to show you two to the crew’s quarters," Watts pushed his trolled using the pipe as a rowing stick. "This way, follow me please."

 The Resistance Base on D'Qar...

Poe was on the ground, his back pressed to a maintenance trolley, a torch held between his teeth as he worked on the modifications for Black One.

BB-8 beeped and chimed in happy tones as he rolled about next to the X-Wing.

Poe pulled the torch from his mouth when he said, "Hey BB-8 can you pass me the '44?"

BB-8 rolled over to the toolbox, clamping arm reaching out from its hidden compartment to grab the spanner but failing to get a grip. The droid beeped worriedly before a set of boots walked up to the toolbox and picked up the spanner instead.

"Here you go, Black Leader," Paige Tico's distinctive vibrato filled the empty hangar bay.

"Thanks," Poe smiled under the X-Wing, his hand reaching out to grab it. "When did you get back?"

Paige tapped her boots on the floor, "A while, I've been spending time with Rose. She worries."

Poe fixed the nut tighter and then dropped the spanner next to the toolbox, "Gimmie a hand?"

Paige wheeled the trolley out from under the jet, tossing him the rag that was on the stool.

"Thanks," Poe nodded, whipping the grease from his hands and under his fingernails.

"Missed a spot," Paige wiggled her eyebrows at the oil stain on his overalls.

Poe dabbed at the dark stains and sighed when he realised they were already dry, "Perfect." He drolled sarcastically.

Paige laughed.

"Don't laugh," despite his serious tone, a smile of its own was spreading across the Commander's face. "This is my second pair this month. The Resistance doesn't have the budget for it." He joked.

Paige rolled her eyes, "Sure, they can afford fancy X-Wing's but not a washing machine."

Poe huffed, dropping the rag in his toolbox, "You here for a reason Tico or just to eye my baby?" Poe patted his jet affectionately making BB-8 chirp and beep, "Don't worry buddy, I can have two favourites."

"Ah, the delusions of men," Paige hummed with a smug look on her face. "And no, you caught me on one of the rare occasions that I'm not trying to pester you into letting me take Black-One for a test run." Paige pointed her thumb in the direction of the exit. "The General sent me, she wants to see you in the CC."

Poe frowned, "You couldn't have gotten to that tidbit a little faster?"

Paige shrugged as she watched him and BB-8 race down the hanger, "Eh, it's more fun watching you sweat for it!" She shouted after them.

When she was alone, Paige allowed her eyes to look over the black X-Wing with a hungry expression. A whistle of appreciation leaving her cheeks as her hands glided over the cold metal. She whispered hopefully, stars in her eyes, "One of these days, baby."

 Poe slowed his pace to a slow jog when he neared the command centre. An overlapping noise of voices and machinery and buttons being pressed bombarded his ears. It was starkly different from the isolation of the hangar bay. Poe was beginning to miss his time working on his star-fighter already. He was also a little disappointed he hadn't had the time to get cleaned up before seeing Leia.

"You wanted to see me, General?" Poe announced himself into the room.

Leia turned and smiled at him, her fingers beckoning him closer, "About time Commander."

The hologram of Maz Kanada died out just as he stepped into the room.

"An old friend tells me that some new allies may require our assistance," Leia informed him. "I need you to gather a handful of your best men and head for Takodana." Leia's brow crinkled as though she had forgotten something important. "Oh, and take one of the ships we salvaged after the incident with Hosnian Prime. Don't want to arouse any unwanted suspicion."

Poe pressed his palms to the table, leaning in closer, "Mind if I ask who exactly these new allies are?"

"Maz didn't say, but something tells me they'll be revealed to you when the time is right."

"Do they know we're coming?"

"That is also yet to be determined."

Poe had to restrain himself from sighing, his head drooping down as he tried to keep his wits about him, dark curls cascading around his face and skirting across the sensitive skin right above his brow.

Lieutenant Connix walked in with a data-pad in hand, "Mission reports, General."

"Have faith, Poe. Things unravel the way they're meant to." Leia glanced over her data-pad, streams of information scrolling past her eyes as she brought her knuckles to bear the weight of her chin while she assimilated the new information.

Poe nodded, lifting his weight off the table as he made for the door.

Leia's eye twitched when she read a section of the report.

"Commander," she called after him.

Poe swivelled in a fluid motion, eyes wide in question.

"Take Ensign Tico with you. Something tells me she could use a change of scenery." Leia smiled again, "And don't dally."

"By your orders General," Poe excused himself from the room and headed for the living quarters to fetch his men and clean the grease off his fingernails.

 To be continued…

Taglist is open, just ask.

Permanent Tag List: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

THE REBEL QUEEN: @carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 41 Interlude: The Drake At Bay

Read on AO3

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

Denerim stood mired in autumn, miserable with the fog and lashing rain that always arrived with the beginning of Harvestmere. People hunched under their cloaks as they walked the streets, gnawed at by the cold and by the worry of the coming winter, the war, and the blockade of Clayne ships that kept the harbour locked to any new supplies. Loghain shuttered the king’s study against them. He drew the curtains across the windows to fox prying eyes, kept the lamps low so that the details of his plans could not be read from a distance. He muttered to himself as he pored over maps and diagrams and letters. The guttering flame of the tallow candle at his side gleamed against the deep green of the locket stone ever-present around his neck. The raids on their supplies from the north, Cailan’s use of Orlesian mercenaries, the banns defecting to the flank of his upstart pet Falcon – all required countermeasures, and his forces were running out of resources to provide them. Why could they not see what he was trying to do? Was the Occupation so long ago they had forgotten what Orlais had done? Even the people now grumbled their discontent, when their argument should not be with him but with the teyrna and the king’s bastard brother who had convinced the Clayne to turn against them. Caladrius, now robbed of his business in the alienage, had gone to bolster the defences at South Reach, but even so, the shadow of defeat hung heavy on his mind. Only Erimond’s repeated cautions and his own failing health kept him from taking to the field himself, but for the good of Ferelden, he would see the war through. He must.

The door of the study groaned open, spilling daylight across the desk.

“Close it behind you,” he snapped, without looking up.

“Of course, Sire.” Howe. The man only ever brought him bad news, or excuses.

“What is it this time?” He looked up, finally, to see his counterpart watching him, in the manner a cat might watch a snake. It brought a flare of anger to the pit of his stomach. If he was unkempt, it was the incompetencies of his adjutants that forced him to sacrifice his personal comfort. He was well aware of his three days’ scruff, his rumpled clothes, and the flyaway braids at his temples, but what did they matter when everything he had worked for was falling apart?

“Am I interrupting?” Howe asked.

“If you were, I’d have you thrown out,” he retorted. “What news?”

The arl pursed his lips. “South Reach has fallen, my liege. It seems that His Majesty preferred for it to be levelled entirely than to stay in our hands. Or, I should say, the Cousland girl preferred it.” The sour note in his voice did not go unnoticed, but Loghain let him have his moment. “Bann Garric of Rillside fell in the attack, and there’s been no word since. It’s likely that his son will turn back and throw his weight behind the king.”

The headache pulsed harder behind Loghain’s eyes. “Let him. He is a coward like the rest, and blind to what we are trying to do. We can do without him.”

“Sire, I’m not sure you understand. Our forces are dwindling, and without supplies from the north we will have to –”

The teyrn rounded on him. “Did I not prevail at the battle of River Dane?” He snarled. “Was I not the one who saved Maric’s rebellion from failure and drove the Orlesians out of Ferelden despite the overwhelming odds against us? You might have sat out the Occupation as an invalid, but I did not. Do not presume to think you know more of battle than me. We have more powerful allies than one panicked Bann who cannot see beyond his own comfort.”

Howe bared his teeth in what might generously be called a conciliatory smile. “Then I hope they avail themselves soon, my liege, because I have other intelligence. The Cousland girl should not have been at South Reach. Our previous accounts had her at Hestley. It is uncharacteristic for her to leave an engagement before the dust has settled, and yet matters in the bannorn were barely settled before she was moving.”

“If you have a point, reach it quickly.”

“Yes, my liege. Such behaviour would suggest intelligence reached them of Caladrius’ plans. It seems your suspicions about a spy in our midst have proven correct.”

Frowning, Loghain returned his attention to the papers on the king’s desk, teeth gritted against the surge of pain in his temples. A spy. Betrayal. Such a discovery explained much about recent events, the defeats and the turn of backs to the cause. He should have listened to the voice in the back of his mind that told him to root out the traitors, to make examples and take vengeance on those who could not see the scope of what he was trying to accomplish. With so much held in the balance, leniency had been a mistake. But, he reasoned, there were times when errors in judgement might present new opportunities.

“You would only bring me this information if you knew who it was,” he said, narrowly regarding the man before him. He was a polecat, slippery in his machinations, never direct when he could twist around a subject to his best advantage. Even now he hesitated, chewing over his words with a venomous little smile playing over his mouth.

“A name, Howe, before I take your silence for an admission of guilt.”

Howe licked his lips. “I have reason to suspect it’s the queen, Sire.”

“You expect me to swallow the idea that my own daughter would betray me?” Loghain snarled, reaching for the comfort the locket provided him. It was cool to the touch, grounding. “Anora is the one person whose loyalty I would never question. Yours, however...”

“Your faith in her is an entirely understandable sentiment sire,” came the silky reply. “But I fear she has taken advantage of the – uh – blind spot where she is concerned.” He held out a square of thick white paper bearing the cracked seal of the Dove in gold wax. “An agent of mine observed her giving this to a servant. When questioned, the boy confessed that this same exchange had happened on a number of previous occasions.”

Scowling, Loghain accepted the letter. The front was addressed formally, to His Majesty Cailan Theirin, in the careful, flowing lines of Anora’s hand, and when he unfolded the sheet within and held it to the light, that script too was unmistakeable. She spoke freely about the situation in Denerim and the alienage, and the new requisition laws in place across Amaranthine, Highever, and Dragon’s Peak. The details were incomplete, but if this were only the latest in a string of letters, it might be enough to paint a full picture of the army’s movements for the enemy to exploit. Still he held out hope that perhaps the letter was an elaborate forgery, a subterfuge by the real traitor to implicate his most loyal supporter, but the further he read, the sterner his brows contracted, the tighter he gripped the paper until the edges creased under the pressure of his fingers.

Every day here the situation grows more restless. My refusal to participate in the Landsmeet and approve my father’s measures results in ever lower moods. He is a man stretched beyond the limits any should endure and I pray you will think of this when the time must come for reconciliation. As always, I write in hopes of a swifter end to this war and a surer peace beyond it.

“What of the servant you interrogated?” he asked, to distract himself from the signature looped at the bottom of the page.

Howe sighed. “Unfortunately, he was reticent, and succumbed before my questioning was complete.”

“Then you were careless.” He reeled back to his maps, the letter scrunched in his fist so the warmed wax squelched between his fingers. His blood roared in his ears as his mind cast back to conversation after conversation with his daughter, his pride in her eloquence before the council of advisors and his annoyance whenever she tried to coddle him. And all this time... was there nothing left Cailan had not poisoned against him?  

“And what else?” he snapped when he realised Howe was still standing behind him. “Have you yet to tell me my horse plots against me as well? Get out of my sight.”

“Sire,” the arl began, “this is a matter that requires action. My information hints at a whole network of spies within the castle and the city, people whose loyalty lies with Her Majesty and who would work against you. Simply barring her from your war councils will not be enough to stop this.”

“And what would you suggest, that I send her back to Gwaren? I would not risk her there, to be dangled in front of Cailan’s pet like a mouse.”

“Of course not.” The answer came measured, rehearsed. Sly. “But moving her out of the city and away from her support would be wise, for her safety as well as for our peace of mind, now that South Reach has fallen. Somewhere more thoroughly under our control, perhaps?”

Loghain did not answer. The plot unfolded before him perfectly. Howe wanted Anora in Amaranthine, surrounded by people loyal to the Bear before the Drake, who wouldn’t hesitate to harm her if given the word, where she could be held to ransom against either side depending on which way the tide turned. When he had encouraged the arl’s attack against the Couslands, it was the man’s cowardice he had manipulated to bring him to heel, the sour greed that had festered in the shadow of his neighbour’s prosperity. It had never been true loyalty, but then it was far more predictable.

The map of the North lay before him, the rebellion’s continually shrinking territory marked on it like the growth rings on a felled tree, and to the west, the line of the Frostbacks holding back the wolves waiting to devour whatever remained when the dust cleared. If his dreams for a free Ferelden were to be saved from the quagmire of blood washing across the Bannorn, he needed the king, and the Teyrna of Highever. They were the supports holding the royalist side; without their clear leadership, their cause would crumble. Afterwards, Maric’s bastard – this Alistair – would fall into step easily enough.

“I will think about this,” he said to Howe. “You may leave.”

He didn’t pay attention to the rustle and creak behind him as he was left alone. His mind was already turning over the potentials of the problem. What he needed was a trap, with bait too tempting to be ignored by either the king or the teyrna. Caladrius’ failure at South Reach was unfortunate, but a good commander never put too much faith in a single outcome, and instead learned to use even defeat to an advantage. His enemies’ victory would make them bold, liable to be pushed into an engagement.

And then there was Howe. His spiteful ambitions had already clouded his judgement once, permitting Fergus Cousland’s survival for the sake of vanity when the whole too-good family should have been put out of its misery in the beginning. How ironic that the only thing keeping him leashed to the cause now was the consequence of failure, the knowledge that if the rebellion failed there would be no barrier between him and the unassuageable wrath of the Falcon. Her defeat would prove troublesome, though it was necessary – perhaps she might be turned, persuaded of Cailan’s folly in return for vengeance and her brother’s life.

A thought for another time. For now, there were other plans to set in motion, ones long-brewed and long hidden from even Anora. Erimond had planted the seed of the idea, pointed out that Cailan’s mages were under the command of Templars who answered to the Orlesian Divine.

“It always, always comes back to Orlais,” he muttered as he scrawled a new letter in the candlelight. “Untrustworthy then, untrustworthy now.”

Once the note was finished he dragged his fingers back through his hair and folded it under the black seal of the Drake and left the wax to cool while he tidied away the rest of the papers. In his head, he calculated. A day and a half for the raven to reach its destination, five days to muster; seven more and he would have a force ready to march out and bring Cailan to ground, and put an end to his resistance once and for all.

[the-dark-fantastic]

@hollowsart let me “borrow” her idea for a Steampunk/Natural World vs Cyberpunk/Enhanced World pair of Pokémon villain teams, because I am possessed of steam-powered dreams and might actually have been sitting on plans for a Poké-themed steampunk costume already. (I would’ve done it this year, but I had not the time nor the money nor the motivation until it was faaar too late to start.)

(Also, I kinda wish now we didn’t have the Aether Foundation, because Team Aether would be a great steampunk name. >.> But since we do, please allow me to introduce you to -)

TEAM VIRTUE - A PROPER TODAY FOR A BETTER TOMORROW!

- Team Virtue believes that to protect the future, humanity must learn from the past. This includes not simply holding on to what it knows, but what it knows to be good.

- Team Virtue isn’t wholly opposed to technology or innovation - they’re opposed to unchecked technology that causes equally-unchecked damage and carries as-yet-unknown risks.

- The primary goals of Team Virtue are education and the passage of laws that protect not only nature, but people and Pokémon as well. However, they will physically intercept those who present an immediate danger or continually refuse to accept their mission statement. They may also cause ‘behind the scenes’ interference for more troublesome adversaries.

- Members of Team Virtue, whether a grunt, an admin, or the leader, are expected to be gentlemen/women (or the equivalent thereof, for members who identify another way). This doesn’t mean shying away from violence - it means treating everyone, whether friend or foe, with courtesy and respect, even during and after a battle. Opponents should be shown mercy when requested, offered assistance when defeated, or acknowledged for their skills when the Virtuous are on the losing end.

(Team Virtue understands that sometimes, a particularly infuriating individual may push too far and cause ideals to be temporarily forgotten, and that’s okay. Mistakes happen because we’re human, but they provide us with learning opportunities, and you can always try to make amends for it later. Forgiveness is a virtue, too.)

- Team Virtue supports steam-based technology, with the acknowledgement that it’s a double-edged sword: In the wrong hands, it can be incredibly dangerous, but used correctly, it can cleanse, seal, and power the world. Accordingly, most of their battle-ready Pokémon are of Steel, Fire, or Water typing.

- Team Virtue also employees Galarian Weezing due to their ability to produce clean air from pollution (the rumour that it’s because they match the team aesthetic is surely quite untrue). Because Koffing remain toxic even in Galar, Team Virtue manages their breeding and training in a secure facility with experienced handlers. Once they evolve into Weezing, they’re introduced to potential partners and encouraged to choose the person with whom they feel the most comfortable. Happy Pokémon are healthy Pokémon!

(Team Virtue does allow members to maintain collections of personal Pokémon, as long as these Pokémon are attended to in the member’s free time and the member does not carry them on official missions.)

- Grunt-level members, especially those new to the team, are often sent out in pairs, one with a Fire-type partner and one with a Water-type partner, who will then combine their attacks. The resulting steam can be used to obscure an opponent’s vision, force them back, or even cover an escape. While using such tactics may not make for a truly honourable duel, Team Virtue considers this an acceptable trade-off when the world itself is at stake.

- More experienced members, and all admins, will generally have a multi-type team and are expected to be able not only to use combined attacks, but to change up and invent new tactics on the spot as needed.

- The vandalism of facilities that cause harm to people, Pokémon, or the environment is considered a similarly-acceptable evil. Such actions should reduce or eliminate the facility’s ability to function, but may not cause additional harm by doing so. (For example - a facility that abuses Pokémon should not be invaded until proper care and housing for the rescued Pokémon has been arranged. A facility that produces toxic chemicals should not be breached if doing so may release those chemicals into the air, water, or soil.)

- Team Virtue does not prohibit its members from seeking medical care. They may take whatever medications are necessary to maintain their physical and mental health, or use traditional prosthetics such as artificial limbs or hearing aids. They may even indulge in purely-aesthetic body mods like tattoos or piercings. What they are not permitted, under any circumstances, are cybernetic enhancements, defined in the team charter as “including but not limited to surgically-implanted devices that integrate with the human body, draw power from questionable sources, and ultimately make a person more machine than man.”

- Team members who are found to have cybernetic modifications, to be using other unapproved technologies, or to conduct themselves in manners unbefitting expectations, will be expelled immediately. If they have received a Weezing from the Team Virtue breeding program, they are requested to return it so that it may be assigned to a new partner.

- There are rumours of Team Virtue members having been captured, anaesthetized, and given cybernetic enhancements against their will; perhaps a plot of Team Vision to ensure a weakened force. Supposedly, these members are allowed to leave Team Virtue without being publically disgraced and even to keep their partner Weezings - however, neither the admins nor the team leader will so much as comment on the rumours, let alone confirm them.

NEXT TIME: Team Vision - Do you see the future I see?

LATER, OR MAYBE SOONER, DEPENDING: Team symbols & uniforms

EVENTUALLY: Team Alloy - Stronger Together

[statusquoergo]

Part I

Oh, dear; it seems that Harvey and Louis didn’t check with Faye before they offered that settlement, and she is pissed.

Apparently “a settlement makes [her] look weak,” even though about 95% of suits end in them, because even though settlement negotiations aren’t admissible at trial, she’s confident that Mike and Samantha will “just say it anyway and have it stripped from the record.” (Stricken from the record. For fuck’s sake, are they being careless on purpose?) Harvey says that if she really wants them to win, they’re going to put her on the stand, she says no, and he argues that she specifically wants Harvey to be the one to beat Samantha, for some reason, so he’s gonna prepare her for trial whether she likes it or not. She accepts, leaving in a huff, and Louis wonderingly asks how Harvey “always [knows] when they’ll back down” to set us up for the third major callback of the evening: “It’s called playing the man, and it’s what I do.” (I’d say that’s been debatable of late, but it sure is good for the nostalgia factor.)

Alex stops by to tell Donna that not only has Faye dismantled a law firm before, she’s also…done something else. And Harvey needs to know about it ASAP. Then Mike catches Katrina on the street to complete the division of the firm into Red and Blue teams, and she agrees to do what she can, but she won’t collude against her own firm.

As part of that preparation Harvey threatened, the entire firm of SLWW gathers for a mock trial, which is a bad idea for a couple of reasons, particularly that the members of the firm are hardly impartial observers and the outcome is therefore highly likely to be biased and not at all helpful in emulating real-world conditions, but it doesn’t actually matter because this is basically just an excuse for Harvey to humiliate Faye in front of a large-ish group of people by bringing up that other thing she’s done before: “This isn’t the first time [she’s] been sued for wrongful termination.” He submits a sealed statement as evidence, which is questionably legal at best, but Judge Alex allows it, and this is exactly what I’m talking about when I say this farce is in no way representative of what a real trial is going to be like. Faye storms off the stand, accusing Harvey of executing a hit job on her, and to his credit he only spends about two seconds pretending that he really was preparing her for trial before admitting that he was taking shots at her as revenge for trying to regulate the firm. She calls Louis a sheep following wherever Harvey leads, and, uh…

“Don’t you say another word about my partner. When you stripped him of his title, you almost cost this firm the best lawyer it’s ever had. You want to know why I did that in there? ‘Cause you come after someone I love, you’re gonna get it back like you’ve never seen before.”

Louis looks up at exactly the right moment to convince me that this scene was written by a Larvey shipper, and I mean I personally am not, so the suddenness and sheer blatancy of it make me a little uncomfortable, but if that’s your jam, hey, enjoy. Oh, then Faye says Harvey had “better bring some of that A game to court tomorrow” because “a spot just opened up on the docket,” and. No. Just, no.

Samantha’s getting tired of Mike over-preparing her for trial, but Mike refuses to go in unprepared, warning her that “[he’s] been on trial before” and she “[doesn’t] know what it’s like.” I feel like they could’ve done more with this during the actual trial itself? Back in Season 5? Oh well, missed opportunity; if I went around complaining about all the opportunities this show has let slip by, I’d never shut up about, I don’t know, let’s say the prison arc.

The writers must’ve gotten an APB that this is their last chance to show how close Harvey and Louis really are, because they’re going hard as Louis finds Harvey in the bullpen (role reversal, get it?) to tell him how much it meant to him to hear Harvey say he loved him. Harvey denies it before he doesn’t, reasserting that Louis is “the best lawyer [he’s] ever seen, and…an even better friend,” and I mean, based on all of his behavior for the entire series, I don’t believe a word of that, but at least we have…a form of evidence that Harvey cares about someone other than himself. And Mike. And Donna. And Jessica. And I guess his mother. Anyway Louis says that in order to win the trial, they’re going to need to make the jury hate Samantha so much that they think they’d want to fire her, too, and he volunteers himself to do the dirty work because Harvey’s mother just died and he’s all vulnerable. The whole scene is very…cute. Sentimental. Shippy. Weirdly overtly shippy.

Then Samantha goes to Robert’s to ask him to be her plus one to the trial, and of course “nothing in this world would keep [him] away.”

But speaking of shipping, remember that unmailed letter Harvey got from Marcus? It seems that while they were “talking about her coming to meet Donna,” Lily decided for some reason that an appropriate thing to do would be to mail him a ring, and given that the accompanying letter mentions that Lily knows “[his] grandmother would have loved Donna,” I’m guessing it’s a matriarchal family heirloom, but my main question about all this is, if Lily was planning to come out for a visit, why was she going to mail this rather than give it to him in person? And if it was just in an envelope for safekeeping, why write the letter? The message isn’t especially long or complex or deep, it’s not exactly the sort of thing that requires crib notes. (”I don’t want to miss my chance. So I wanted to make sure you have this, just in case,” was she anticipating her own heart attack? Is there some kind of genetic cardiovascular disease in the Specter family line that Harvey should be made aware of?)

Either way, he’ll tell Donna what’s in the envelope someday, “but not today,” because right now it’s time to go to court. Donna suggests getting out the can opener, but Harvey doesn’t want to forever sully that sacred ritual with the memory of “going against Mike and Samantha,” so instead Donna tells him to practice his opening statement on her because she needs to be all involved with every single thing that happens to him all the time.

Finally using the courtroom set for its intended purpose—you know, a trial—we begin the scene with that overlapping switching back and forth thing the editors are so fond of, moving between Harvey’s and Mike’s opening statements as they argue that Faye was and wasn’t justified, respectively, in firing Samantha. Louis begins the examination portion by calling Samantha as his first witness, trying to frame her as hostile and argumentative in the workplace, and apparently one witness examination is plenty for the first day, because in the very next scene, Katrina confronts Louis to accuse him of behaving cruelly and he defends himself by hedging that “sometimes doing the job means doing something we hate.” Harvey and Louis anguish over not being able to tell everyone what’s going on before we smash cut to Samantha pacing Mike’s apartment and ranting about how Mike didn’t object enough to Louis’s character destruction (true), blaming him for all of this because if he’d never come back, none of it would’ve happened. (I don’t recall anyone holding a gun to her head to fabricate that evidence…) Mike tells her to hold onto that anger for tomorrow as someone knocks on the door, and Mike wasn’t expecting any visitors, “but if that’s who [he thinks] it is, [they] might finally have some answers.” Very mysterious.

More trial shenanigans! It’s Faye’s turn to take the stand today as Mike’s witness, and he wastes no time in finagling her into admitting that Samantha “wins cases” before claiming that Faye hates her, which she obviously denies, and then…Mike hands questioning over to Samantha? I must’ve missed the part where she registered as his co-counsel; in fact I distinctly recall him making a point of referring to her as his client. Violation of procedural conduct notwithstanding, Samantha brings up that last time Faye was sued for wrongful termination and then produces her termination paperwork (without submitting any of it into evidence, naturally) and accuses Faye of firing her without proof because she thinks she’s an asshole, which Faye of course denies ever having said, because…she didn’t. Mike then takes over to point out that Harvey just road tripped with Samantha to Pittsburgh and Louis invited her to his wedding, meaning that “[she] has friends at [Faye’s] firm,” whereas “two days ago, [Faye’s] own lawyer publicly stated that [she is] a bitter, vindictive woman who is hated by everyone at [her] firm.” (Two days ago? Yesterday, right after Samantha’s testimony, Mike said they were going back to court “tomorrow.” It’s like there’s one writer on staff who tries to establish a vaguely realistic timeline but they keep getting written over as soon as someone else notices.) Mike then asks whether the person who deserves to be fired is “the lawyer who wins cases and has friends or the one who lied about why she let [his] client go,” and I mean A for effort, man, but when you need to fabricate evidence to get that win, is it really worth it? (Maybe we should get Cameron Dennis on the line, I bet he’d have some thoughts about that.) Also having friends at the firm isn’t exactly relevant to her job retention, unless we’re talking about preferential treatment, but that’s another discussion entirely.

Not that it matters as we skip straight to Faye yelling at Harvey and Louis for leaking the sealed lawsuit and also the contents of the mock trial to Mike and Samantha, which they deny, but she “[doesn’t] give a shit” and tomorrow they’d better prove Samantha “crossed a line” (ugh…) or else. Louis and Harvey decide the best way to appease Faye is to “prove without proving it” that Samantha fabricated evidence (what) but the only way to do that is with Mike, who can’t testify because he’s bound by attorney-client privilege. Except “not according to Kern v. California, he’s not,” except that Kern v. California is either a misprint for Ker v. California, which is a search and seizure case that has nothing to do with privilege, or they’re just making shit up because it’s easier than writing a narrative that actually makes sense, but it doesn’t matter anyway because Harvey’s “not putting Mike through the wringer.” Louis fumes that they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if “someone hadn’t slipped [Mike and Samantha] this shit” and accuses Harvey, who in turn accuses Louis, who’s interrupted from his conclusion that it must’ve been Alex by Katrina appearing out of nowhere to confess that it was her, but she only did it because she thought Louis wanted Samantha to get a win and she was just trying to help them maintain plausible deniability. Harvey goes totally off the rails at her because, oh yeah, his mom just died, and he “can't even talk to the one guy who could understand what the hell [he’s] going through,” and Louis tells him he needs to give himself a break; he knows Harvey “[doesn’t] have Mike now, but [he does] have [him],” which is both very kind of Louis and also probably the sweetest and most touching acknowledgment since the end of Season 7 that Mike leaving really has been hard on Harvey, so I appreciate that very much. Even if it’s all shrouded in the obfuscation of his mother’s death.

Has it come through terribly clearly that I’m really fucking sick of Donna in this episode? Here she comes yet again to remind everybody that she knows what’s best for everyone all the time as she asks— I’m sorry, as she tells Mike to have a drink with Harvey, who “needs a break, and he needs it to be with [Mike],” because Mike is “someone who’s lost both parents,” and I mean yes I definitely want Mike and Harvey to go out for drinks and be supportive best friends, obviously, but she’s just so goddamn sanctimonious about everything that it’s driving me up the fucking wall.

So Katrina confesses to Faye and asks her to understand that people make mistakes and to please not punish Harvey and Samantha for her actions, and Faye respects her owning up to her mistake but fires her anyway, and Faye had a good run for awhile there, but she’s definitely the villain of the piece now. Grey area, what grey area? This is Suits, we have no time for subtlety.

At least we get to close the episode on a high note; sharing drinks and reminiscing a lot less ham-handedly than their last big reunion, Harvey and Mike remind us and each other of some of the highlights of their time together, including “keeping [everyone] from finding out all that time” that Mike was a fraud—and I know I literally just went off about this, but they specifically cite the fact that they didn’t have to hide it from Donna because “she knew from day one… Because more than anyone else, she gets [Harvey],” and I have had it up to here with this fucking bullshit. Has anyone on this show’s writing staff ever actually seen the show they’re writing for? Donna found out that Mike was a fraud because she was in the room when Harvey said, quote, “I just got reamed for lying to a client and if they find out that I lied about you going to Harvard, they’ll take away my license” (s01e01). There was no magical soulmate-level connection that clued her into Harvey’s insane recklessness; he literally told her what he’d done, and her response was, quote, “You what?” She was as surprised as anyone else, the fact that she found out first does not make her special.

Anyway they shoehorn in some clumsy references to Rachel that are super awkward considering that they can’t mention the whole “Duchess of Sussex” thing, Mike makes a joke about Harvey moving to Seattle and becoming a junior partner at his firm that Harvey blows off as ridiculous but makes me all kinds of suspicious about the finale, and Harvey apologizes as he serves Mike with a subpoena to appear in court tomorrow as a witness for the defense. Mike, making great strides toward figuring out Harvey’s secret plans but still a couple yards short of the finish line, demands to know what changed their plan and when Harvey stopped trusting him; to his credit, Harvey looks absolutely tormented at not being able to explain himself, but Mike misses the hint and concludes that “this was a nice break, but it’s over,” informing Harvey that he’ll see him in court and leaving him to finish his drink alone. Side note, the timing of the music cue here is really on point, but “Natural” by Imagine Dragons is…not the right song.

Well, that friendship is over forever. Or maybe they’re going to work together to pull “one last con.” Who knows. Not me. Tune in next week for the last episode ever.

[mikawa-province]

The Nile

Title: The Nile Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad: Party/Tenka Touitsu Koi no Ran: Love Ballad Pairing: Tokugawa Ieyasu x MC Rating: PG-13 Word Count (MS Word): 4,545 

現状否定　（げんじょうひてい） [genjouhitei] (n) refusal to accept the present situation; denial of the existing situation

Happy Birthday, Tokugawa Ieyasu!

This was not how he envisioned his evening to be.

All Matsudaira Motoyasu wanted was a nice dinner and a bath before he retired to his bedroom, in preparation for a hectic morning ahead, which would consist of heading to the airport to make it in time for his morning flight. Business trips were the bane of existence, especially when it involved flying out of his home country to meet with clients.

Frankly, while he loved his day job, this was one aspect that he thought they should do away with, as he has never been the type to mingle and be nice. Within his workplace, he was known as the sarcastic one who had to be told to stop cursing out, lest he offended the people around him with his foul mouth.

… Not like he cared, really. His workplace could tell him to tone down his cursing all they like, it's not like he would cave in. Rather, his current career choice was something he was doing to tide him over until his dream job became stable enough to be a career.

And just like every dream job, he was still not at that level where he could abandon his day job for the one he had been dreaming of ever since he was old enough to understand what he wanted to do in life.

“Huh, never realize you'd be the type to cohabit with a woman, Motoyasu. Or is she your wife, as the rumors say?” came the familiar drawl that made him want to cringe openly.

Was there any law protecting citizens from getting sued if he slammed the door and claimed that any injury that resulted from said action was simply an ‘accident’? His unwanted guest’s fingers were on the door frame, the most perfect spot for what he was planning, and he was so very tempted to close the door with as much force as he could muster. That should be enough to get his point across.

Then again, no matter how much he tried, Oda Saburou never bothered listening to him.

That, and the man was such a huge gossip, nothing escaped his notice, his hearing, and his network.

As expected of a politician, Motoyasu thought to himself darkly before smiling at his childhood acquaintance.

“She’s neither. The woman is my housekeeper.” while he did not want Oda to know what she really was to him, he figured that telling the partial truth would be enough to satisfy the other man’s curiosity.

Oda, unfortunately, did not thinking that was all there was to the story and pressed on, the notorious busybody that he was. “Really? Just a housekeeper? Yet she lives with you?” [1]

He felt his eyes glare at the direction of the shrewd legislator giving him a sly look. “The arrangement I have with her is none of your business.”

Motoyasu wished that this scenario had never happened.

It was one thing for Oda to confront him about this… unusual setup without her within earshot. Conversations like these were done at expensive restaurants, specifically private rooms that were confirmed not to have been bugged nor tampered with.

Now, with her standing by the doorway beside him… this was the worst scenario he could ever think of. Not only because it did not make sense that member of the National Diet was visiting him on a whim, but Oda was being too persistent with his line of questioning and seemed way too interested and invested with his personal life.

The look on her face said it all: confused, incredulous, and most of all… shock.

Representative Oda Saburou of Aichi Prefecture’s First District [2] was at the front door and acted with so much arrogance, it seemed as if he owned the place.

The blond man resisted every urge to roll his eyes at the sight of the most irritating man in existence. “... Can you leave? I have an early flight to catch tomorrow—” before he could tell the man to fuck off and get lost, Oda raised a hand, as if to greet her and winked!

To his own surprise and anger, she blushed.

Blushed.

Fucking hell.

“Hey you, why don’t you work for me instead? No doubt Motoyasu’s pay rate is shit, and you probably don’t even have your own room.” Oda said, referring to his apartment setup that was definitely not up to a politician’s standards. “Can you really stand to live in a place like this? I’m sure I have more to offer than he does, no offense.” the last part sounded like he had randomly thrown that in to soften the blow, but Motoyasu knew better.

Oda was a demon in his own right, and was subtly trying to provoke him, in an attempt to test his patience.

… Maybe this was the sign he was waiting for.

Oda would still be able to live normally, even after losing a few fingers, right?

Then again, he didn’t need fingers if all he did was use his personal seal [3] to stamp everything in approval.

Just before he could take a single step towards the entryway to slam the door shut, she finally found her voice.

“I-If I may, Representative Oda…” she began hesitantly, wringing her hands before looking directly at the politician. “I would like to respectfully decline your offer. I am happy with what I am doing right now, and Motoyasu has been nothing but kind to me ever since I started working for him.”

Did she just… call him by his first name…?!

He shouldn’t be that surprised, really.

Given that his western upbringing had made him immune to getting surprised when people called him by his given name [4], her calling him by his name other than ‘Matsudaira-san’ for the past few months since she moved in… something akin to ‘fluttering’ made its way to his heart, which horrified and puzzled him at the same time.

Was he really that desperate to hear his name from her lips?

He was more deluded than he thought he would be.

The office teasing was getting to him so bad, he was starting to overthink of matters that he should not even be thinking about.

Nishina Sanae was his housekeeper (not officially, but she referred to herself as such), and he was her employer and boss (according to her, anyway); such a setup shouldn’t bring such crazy ideas to his mind.

Yet… it did.

If they were living overseas, he would have been sued for harassment if he dared to make a move… however, in his home country, their current setup was one of those scenarios that people who wrote fiction for a living made millions of yen from. It was absurd, really, how the master of the house would somehow fall for his housekeeper, courtesy of either clumsy writing or a rather believable storyline that got the masses hooked.

Even so, he never did see her as his housekeeper. She did more than just housesit for him whenever he was away at his day job, or when he did his gig late in the evenings that would last until the early morning. Too exhausted to do his chores, which was brought about by his late-night job, she did it all to help around the house in order to, according to her, pay her share of the rent in lieu of monetary payment. While it sounded so sleazy that she was doing almost all the household work, as he had been used to the notion that chores were done on a give and take basis between two individuals living together, she informed him that she was more than happy to do the chores as it distracted her from falling into a mess.

Until now, she was still unable to secure another job to replace the one that had let her go, and was desperately searching for anything that would allow her to earn the exact same rate that her old job gave her.

“After all, I need to have my own place as soon as possible. It’s gonna be awkward if I’m here and you bring a lady over. I’ll be in the way and she might get the wrong idea.”

He resisted rolling his eyes upon hearing her say that. Dating was far from his mind, especially since he was focusing on his side gig, and, at the same time, trying to keep his head afloat with his day job. ‘Exhausting’ was one way to put it, but there was also the matter of his family to keep in mind.

If only his family was normal, they probably would not bat an eyelash over his personal choices, but they weren’t… exactly what the population would call ‘normal’.

Far from it.

“Really?” Oda did not look convinced. “You find him ‘kind’ when he’s forcing you to make him a lunch box everyday for the past few months?”

This fucking guy was seriously going to get stabbed one of these days. If the yakuza wouldn’t do it, he would definitely be first in line to go through with it.

How long would he be in jail if he ‘accidentally’ stabbed this guy?

… And how the hell did he know about the bentou boxes? Did Oda seriously have spies at his workplace?

He made a mental note to be careful from now on.

“No way, it’s not like that!” she said. “I don’t mind making lunches for him!”

How awkward that what he ate for lunch was becoming a point of intrigue in his company. He had hoped that when he started bringing her home-cooked meals, his co-workers would not notice it; it had been barely two minutes since he began eating when one of them did and straight-up asked him if he already knocked up a woman and married her.

At that time, he found the notion ridiculous. He had no time to ‘knock up’ a woman, with the way his schedule worked, and how exhausted he was day after day.

“Whatever you say, man, but if you’re that oblivious with the way your wife puts a lot of effort in that bentou of yours, I won’t be surprised if she finds someone else who would appreciate her more than you ever will and divorce you.”

… Maybe he really was more exhausted than he thought. His brain was giving him stupid ideas from all that romantic-related nonsense his co-workers were telling him.

Death from overwork was a thing [5], and he had to be careful not to tire himself out too much.

But before all of that, first thing’s first: Oda had to go, either as a corpse, or as a living human being.

“Interesting.” the politician was smirking from ear to ear now. “A home-cooked meal, huh… haven’t had one in a long time.”

Just before the blond man could tell him to simply go home and have his own meal prepared by his personal chef, she just had to do the most annoying thing possible.

“If you’d like, I can cook for you sometime.” she volunteered readily.

Motoyasu did not know why, but he was suddenly seeing red, and the fact that he was feeling rather murderous when Oda’s taunts and teasing did not used to affect him was very alarming. Either way, by the looks of it, it was either he ended up ‘accidentally’ stabbing the man or he shoved the guy out of his apartment, all the while acting as cordial as possible while doing said shoving.

As he still had dreams to fulfill, one of which being his side job becoming a full-time job, he opted for the latter, and made a move to close the door. While doing so, he had accidentally hit her hand as he swung his own to grab the door frame.

“Sorry.” he muttered, wondering why his cheeks felt hot all of a sudden at the contact.

“N-no worries…”

Oda Saburou rolled his eyes upon seeing the red-faced woman and shook his head. “Yeah right, you’re totally not married.” he remarked sarcastically.

“I already told you--”

“Whatever you say, I’m leaving.” before he removed his hand on the frame, he winked at the lone female among them. “I’ll take you up on that offer sometime. See you around.”

Motoyasu slammed the door as hard as he possibly could, rattling the shoe cabinets by the door. Upon seeing her wince from the noise, he sighed heavily before heading off to his room.

What a stressful day it was, having to deal with Oda, and now, the possibility of him visiting more often all because his roommate (was that how he should start referring to her?) had volunteered to cook.

Though… there was also that possibility that Oda would invite her over to his place and…

He thought he had suppressed every emotion related to wanting to kill that man decades ago; why was it making a comeback all of a sudden?

“Matsudaira-san, I’m sorry…”

He was so caught up in his rage that he had forgotten that she was still there, trailing behind him.

“... You did nothing wrong.” he said as calmly as he possibly could, despite the rage in his blood. “Go to sleep. And just so you know, I don’t need breakfast tomorrow.”

“You’re clearly angry at me.” she stubbornly pressed on, somehow misinterpreting his request for no breakfast. “Won’t you tell me what I did to offend you?”

As much as he wanted to not deal with this stupidity caused by his inability to control his emotions, she was forcing him to face the problem head on, which was something that he has been avoiding for the past few weeks.

Damn it all.

Damn Oda for taunting him.

Damn her for being so stubborn.

Damn her for being so damn nice that she was willing to cook for just about anyone who asks.

And lastly…

Damn all of his co-workers for making the things that he never thought deeply about turn into a sick fantasy that had been haunting him for months.

He was really going to regret what he would be saying next, but he had no choice. She had to back down before he did something idiotic. “... You did nothing wrong. Ask me again and you'll regret it, I guarantee you.” he threatened.

He should have known by now that she would never be one of those women who listened to him. Rather, she got defiant at times that he wondered how she could get away with that kind of attitude at her workplace… and how he was amazingly able to tolerate all of it.

It was either that, or she only became impertinent while in his presence.

He had half a mind to discipline her, but backed down immediately, knowing that she really was more of a roommate than a housekeeper, and he had no authority over her.

Still… maybe spanking her wouldn't be such a bad idea.

He stopped himself before his mind wandered off to place that shouldn't even be worth considering, yet his mind did, and conjured images it didn’t.

Ugh, this was such a pain in so many different ways, and he was feeling the effects.

“Tell me.”

That fucking did it.

He turned around and glared at her.

“... Don't say I didn't warn you.”

She didn't realize she had followed him to his bedroom until he turned around and gave her a look that told her she was in big trouble.

Why couldn't she had just kept her mouth shut?!

Time and again, her mouth was the very cause of the various problems that ended with her always getting scolded or, worse, fired from her job for ‘insubordination’. While she would rather have a roof over her head for an indefinite period of time until she could pay the deposit for her own apartment, it was still well within her roommate's right to tell her to pack up and leave.

There was always the option of going back home, but she would rather not.

Tokyo was much more fun than her hometown, which was already so overcrowded with tourists.

That, and her roommate was not at all unpleasant to look at.

Not at all.

… Unless he was glaring at her and he was looking like he wanted to pummel her.

She never knew what ‘paralyzing fear’ was until this very moment, when he slammed a hand to the side of her face as she shrieked from the loud noise and found her back pressing against the bedroom door, feeling herself shrink from him looming presence.

Was she seriously that distracted moments ago that she actually closed the door behind her, forgetting that she was not going to clean his room, and was not at all supposed to be in her ‘housekeeper mode’?

Hell, did she just potentially entrap herself in his room?!

A thousand profanities ran through her mind as she felt her heart race in panic.

He was seriously going to punish her.

‘Why did you even do that?!’ her mind screamed at her. ‘Are you seriously asking to be thrown out in the streets? And on winter even!’

She really, really needed to keep her mouth shut from now on.

That, and having the common sense to know what to say and what not to say during certain situations.

Before she could open her mouth to beg for forgiveness, all of a sudden, her peaceful world violently spun away from its orbit.

Oh. My.

The profanities that her mind was shouting nonstop had ceased, and was replaced with… dead silence.

How was she supposed to reach over the fact that her boss, no, her “roommate” was… well… to put it simply, he was pressing his mouth against hers while he leaned closer to her…? While she have had encounters like these, this was one of the only times wherein she did not recoil at the physical closeness of both their lips and their bodies.

It also did not help that he was not at all unattractive. No doubt, there were probably women who have tried to pick him up over at Roppongi in the hopes of getting noticed, but failed to do so. His angelic-like features belied the sarcasm that he kept in check, fooling nearly everyone around him. She, too, had also been a victim, both with lacking the oversight to notice the little devil behind the charming smile, as well as his rather colorful vocabulary.

Underneath it all, however, was an awkward man who had a hard time saying his true feelings. Despite her situation, not once did he force her to clean his apartment in lieu of monetary compensation.

… Was that why she was totally okay with him kissing her…?

She was seriously losing her mind.

The last thing she wanted was to get into some kind of situation that would make everyone, including her, very awkward and uncomfortable.

Roommate, boss… whatever the hell their relationship status is right now, she would rather not get involved with someone like him.

… Well, maybe after a few minutes, she would have the courage to tell him to stop.

This man was seriously too talented with his mouth. It had been a struggle not to moan as he coaxed her with his lips to open up, but as soon as a throaty moan escaped her lips, she felt her face flame in embarrassment.

He pulled away for a bit to take in some air, and she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Too damn cute…” before kissing her once more. This time around, his hands were slowly making its way down her torso before wrapping his arms around her waist to steady her.

It was now or never.

She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tip of her toes, her tongue slipping within his parted lips.

There was no turning back.

He was such a deluded good-for-nothing maniac.

He was seriously going to get sued for taking advantage of his housekeeper, roommate… whatever the hell their relationship is at this point in time. Not to mention, if she does sue him, he could say goodbye to everything he had worked hard for in the past year, all because of his uncontrollable urges. Embarrassingly, something snapped in him, and… well… she had somehow thought it was a good idea to close the door behind her when she followed him to his room.

Then again, who was he to talk? At first, he thought it would be a good idea to threaten her, jokingly, and look at where it led him.

They were close to making out at this point, with her fingers unbuttoning the dress shirt he wore for work.

Fuck that, he would never see his plain old boring work outfit the same way ever again.

No doubt, his mind would associate his work shirt with the current scenario and…

God help him if he would be unable to concentrate with his day job after this—

Thinking about his day job had snapped him out of his lust-filled thoughts.

This has got to stop, he thought to himself.

Abruptly, he placed his hands on each of her shoulder and slowly pulled away from her.

“S-sorry…” why was he such a wimp, stuttering while apologizing to the person who had been supporting him for the past few months, only for him to suddenly assault her? He was such an awful person, he wouldn’t be surprised if she ran away after everything that had happened.

Hell, even he could not process everything that had happened just now.

“I mean… my apologies, I did not mean… for this to… happen.” he ended lamely, knowing that he had no reason at all for doing what he did, other than him acting like a hormonal teenager.

Before she could say anything, he turned the handle of the door to open it. “... See you around, I guess.”

All of a sudden, he was so looking forward to flying out of the country for a couple of days.

He needed to stay far, far away from her.

The sooner, the better.

He was such a mess, and so was his mind.

 Was he… telling her to leave his room, or his household in general?

As if on auto-pilot, she found herself bowing her head, muttering ‘good night’, and leaving his bedroom. How she had managed to do it so calmly, she would never understand.

It was difficult to think straight immediately after getting kissed as if she mattered, and that he could not get enough of her. Every gesture made her knees unstable that it had really been a good idea for her to hold on to him.

Which was why it had hurt when he told her that he did not mean for it to “happen”.

Just what exactly did he mean by that?

Was he regretting making out with someone like her, a nearly-penniless girl who was both his roommate and his housekeeper…?

She wish he didn’t; she didn’t regret any of it.

… Besides, it had been somewhat a wish come true, at least, for her.

Hell, maybe it was time for her to openly admit the fact that she was thoroughly attracted to the man who had been kind enough to take her in when her whole world came crashing down one day. He wasn’t perfect by any means, but he was not awful as he made himself out to be, nor she found him unpleasant to deal with.

That, and… well… there was also that one incident that had cemented the whole foundation of her infatuation towards him.

At that point, she was still in denial with regards to her feelings towards him, as she knew that the odds between them actually upgrading their relationship status was rather low. He never really interacted much with her, and vice-versa, as it had been all professional and rarely casual.

… Until that incident.

She had been minding her own business that Saturday morning when something else better than coffee woke the ever living daylights out of her for two days straight: the sight of her naked boss.

At that times, she was busy cleaning the wash basin of his second bathroom when, at the exact same time he exited the bathroom, she happened to catch a glimpse of him from the mirror placed above the very basin she was cleaning.

If there was one thing that she discovered that day, it would be that overworking one’s self was always a bad idea, as it led to poor decisions and judgments, and that the man she was living with was… well…

If she had to be honest, what she saw on the mirror was definitely… impressive.

The very memory of that impressive sight had been forever burned both in her retinas and in her mind.

That had been the very first time she had found out that Matsudaira Motoyasu was a workaholic, as he had been going home very late that week, only for him to crash and burn that Saturday morning. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she could never decide, but for him to actually admit that he could not remember going into the shower that morning and exiting it as naked as the day he was born and passing out after he put his underclothes on, it was a conundrum, really.

On one hand, he did not know that she had caught a glimpse of him.

On the other hand, that incident had forced her to confront her feelings for him all of a sudden, which had kept her up all night for several nights.

After all, how was it even possible for her to see her ‘boss’ in such an… intimate way? The man had been nothing but forgiving in every sense, even if, at times, she wanted to hit him for his callous remarks about everything.

His sharp tongue aside, it was getting incredibly difficult for her to continue to ignore her growing feelings.

While she had been very good with running away from her problems, now was not the time to be doing such, especially since her current situation afforded her with little to no options of doing so.

The best thing she could do, for now at least, was to act as if nothing happened, and that she was totally not shaken to the core with what had happened.

Yep, that was the best thing she could do with her current predicament.

With him going overseas, that would definitely make it easier for both of them. Some separation time was needed, and she would be glad to have a few days all to herself, as the last thing she wanted was to make a fool out of herself in front of him by becoming too flustered over their interactions.

Hell, she had some growing up to do.

It was just a kiss.

People kissed other people all the time… right?

She grimaced at herself, knowing that it was always a struggle to convince herself to feel the opposite of her true emotions.

The worst.

Notes:

[1]  “Really? Just a housekeeper? Yet she lives with you?” - If there’s one thing that’s odd with this phrase, it’s that it’s extremely rare for Japan households to have a live-in helper. If they do live in the same household, it means that the family that employs them are very rich and can provide lodging and such.

[2] Aichi Prefecture’s First District - good old Wikipedia helped me out on this one. First District includes Naka Ward, which happens to be the area where Oda Nobunaga was born. He was born in Nagoya Castle, by the way.

[3] Then again, he didn’t need fingers if all he did was use his personal seal to stamp everything in approval. - while some transactions in Japan can be completed with simply a signature, some traditional banks require you to use a stamp. Personal seals (私印) are used to complete transactions, and you do need to have one in case they don’t accept signatures.

[4]  Given that his western upbringing had made him immune to getting surprised when people called him by his given name - Calling people by their first name implies closeness that can range from ‘we’ve known each other all our lives’ to ‘s/he is my lover’. Most of the time, that rule applies. There are exceptions to this, as always.

[5]  Death from overwork was a thing - it’s called karoushi (過労死), and it’s very real.

Bonus: as for the title, remember, denial is just a river in Egypt. ;)

Oh wow I actually made it in time for Ieyasu’s birthday this year lmfao Happy Birthday to the Tanuki of Mikawa!

Apologies if my writing was all over the place. I’ve rushed it a bit to make it in time but I hope it was tolerable at least.

Lastly, this is the first of many planned one-shot/s involving modern AU and Tokugawa Ieyasu/Matsudaira Motoyasu x MC. Depending on the reception of this fic, I may or may not expound further.

Once again, thank you for reading!

[thejokersenigma]

Loki x Reader - Runes - Part 6

Ok guys, next parts ready-ish. I’m not a huge fan of this chapter, but I was desperately trying to find a way to worm in a half-decent explanation of my rune idea into the story. It doesn’t flow great, but I hope it clears a few things up? (Though I’ve probably missed some stuff out so let me know if you have any questions on it and I’ll try and answer if it doesn’t give away the rest of the story haha)

I have based the runes off real runes - the Younger Futhark runes. I haven’t used all of them and I know very little about Norse mythology. I have vaguely used their meanings, but everything I am doing with them is completely fictional and I don’t mean to disrespect them or their meanings in any way so I hope no one takes offence if I mess this up in anyway!

(I actually only came up with his whole fan fiction because I own a necklace like the ones in the story with one of the runes on it!)

Let me know what you think!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

MAIN MASTERLIST

RUNE MASTERLIST

The Asgardian tradition of a women’s rune necklace was something that had been around for longer than anyone could recall, and its reasoning long since lost to time. You were unfamiliar with anyone ever having challenged the custom in history – or anyone even questioning why it had only ever extended to the female population – but this mostly likely due to the varying wives’ tales that surrounded the soul binding.

And that was what the necklaces were, a part of a girl’s soul trapped away at birth until they were able to unlock it on the day of their marriage. You glanced down at yours now as you sat, your knees pulled up to your chest – a position you had often be chastised for by your mother – in the graveyard garden, the smell of smoke and smouldering wood still lingering on the air. You lifted the antler tip off where it always rested on your chest, now rotating it between your fingertips to examine, for the millionth time, the rune shape carved into it.

You knew the etching in the bone was made by using a piece of sunglass, and the antler then stained in beeswax to seal it, but the actual binding that took place between a person and the rune was a heavily guarded secret that even your extensive reading on the subject could shed very little light on. This was for good reason of course, binding a person’s mind to a vessel was powerful magic and not something that should be accessible to learn for any layman, hence why a small council had been formed that oversaw the practice for each girl’s birth, their methods secretive and their recruiting limited.

You fiddled with the antler piece, scowling at it. The soul runes were a subject that had frustrated and tormented you for most of your life. The bare basics of them were taught to a girl at a young age – they formed questions pretty quickly after all about the leather thong that was placed around their neck at birth – but you had taken a special interest in the topic, educating yourself further than any other girl would care to go. Most just accepted it. You had wanted to know why.

You put down most of your intrigue to the fact that your parents – unlike other children’s families – had refused to explain your runes meaning to you. You remember the other girls running around thrilled and proud about what their rune meant, how they would be this or that when they grew up. Of course, they would then ask you what your rune was – what you were destined for – and you hadn’t known. Neither had they though, when they demanded to see your rune – they had never seen the odd symbol before. That evening, they had run home, bursting with questions about the odd rune on their friend, seeking the answer of its meaning from their parents, but they too refused to speak of it and instead strongly advised that the child stay away from the girl and offered the same advice to any boy as well.

There were few who rebelled enough to ignore these words of wisdom, and before you knew it, your friendship pool had diminished to only a few chosen few - Yuliya always having been the one by your side consistently.

So, you kept your rune hidden from then on – quickly having pieced that together as the source of people’s discomfort around you – and quickly changed the subject If it ever came up. Your grandfather was the one who had helped you discover the true meaning of your rune.

You glanced to your right at the stone statue next to you. It was barely over two-foot-tall but the stone crow – its wings thrown open - was carved with such detail that it looked as though it might take off from its little dais at any point, or at the very least turn one of its cold eyes on you. It was the work of Yuliya’s courter – a blacksmith who dabble in stone work on the side – and you’d paid him with every coin you had and promised him several weeks wages despite his protests. It was a work of art after all – a thing of beauty - and exactly what you had wanted to place in memory of your grandfather. Since it had been laid a little over a year ago, a few weeks after his death, you always visited the spot once a week – more if you needed to. The garden was not a popular place like it once was, but even so, you had chosen the most private area for your memorial, a little hollow in the western corner which a tall willow largely obscured. You and your grandfather had always enjoyed peace and quiet – often not saying whilst you helped him, simply enjoying each other’s company – and you felt it was only right that his earthly reminder be kept away from the business of the world beyond the shrubbery and it, in turn, offered you a sanctum to hide at as well when you needed it most.

Your grandfather had been the one to point you in the right direction to discover the truth behind your rune. He was subtle about it, giving no answers outright - so not as to disobey your parents - but instead suggesting you peruse a certain book you would be able to find at the palace library where your studies took place alongside the other high-ranking children close to your age, including the two princes.

So, you sought the answers for yourself, using your free time to seek out the few books you could find on the runes and their translations. It became clear to you - as you had run your eyes over the pages - why certain runes suggested certain occupations and personalities and you soon made it a hobby of yours to learn and observe different types of runes and their behavioural affects.

There were ten different types of runes in total - some more common than others - and each predicted a certain path for an individual, foretelling their future personality and natural skills. It wasn’t that you were forced by law down these paths laid out for you, but more that these rune around your neck were in fact you – a part of you at least – and the reconnection with that part of upon the ceremonial burning of the necklace unleashed an area of your mind that you didn’t know existed – the part of you that was maternal, or judicious or a voyager, and then you understood your predetermined future.

It was whilst you poured over these books - scribbling notes whenever you found the slightly ‘new’ piece of information amongst a repetitive babble - that you had first met Loki in fact. You had seen him around the palace and in lessons, of course, but never had the two of you acknowledged each other’s presence. The prince had seemed almost as surprised as you upon discovering someone else in the library aside from himself. He had said nothing at the revelation however, but merely grabbed the book he had been searching for from the shelf and taken a seat directly opposite you at the central table.

You had fought the urge to glance up again, knowing for certain you were blushing a bright red, but you had felt Loki’s eyes on your face and the pages you now pointlessly turned. Eventually he had turned his attention to his own book and the two of you had sat in silence together for the rest of your study period. After that though, you had always made sure to hide yourself away in the deepest recess of the library where you definitely could not be found and your studying took on a almost desperate fever, the eligible age of marriage fast approaching and you praying to every god that the more you knew about your rune, the more you stood a chance of fighting against it and your so-called ‘destiny’.

“Look how that turned out.” You murmured to the crow, brushing a hand quickly over your eyes. You weren’t sure whether you regretted knowing about your rune or not, it had permanently altered the way you lived your life after all, but at least now you could stop it – or at the very least try to make up for it.

You glanced back down to your necklace where it just hung as a constant threat. Not everyone kept their rune as a necklace – although it was the most popular style it seemed – where occupations or job made a necklace cumbersome or annoying, some would merely keep the token in their pockets or adjust the leather into bracelets for their ankles or wrists. Anything was generally acceptable really – as long as it remained on your person. Not that there was any law that forbade the removal of a rune though, but it was strongly frowned upon - Gods forbid it break before your marriage after all. Not that anyone knew what would happen if it did – no one even considered damaging their rune – no one except you. You had never done it though – you did not even know if it was possible outside of the matrimonial flame - but you had considered it. You always wondered if it you broke it before your marriage, would that part of you simply disappear into the ether? Or, maybe the rune’s secret would simply be unleashed on you earlier than it should. That was the fear. That was the thought that had always stopped you from trying.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path to your left now pulled you out of your thoughts. It was a public garden, it could have been anyone, but you knew who it would be – the only person who knew that this is where you sought sanctuary away from reality. You didn’t bother to lift your gaze though, your eyes still on the small tip of bone in your hand, noticing the branches of the willow being pushed aside out of the corner of your eye.

“Sol. Go.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, the croak in our voice giving away the tears you had wiped away.

“The rune. Its meaning. I know you still know it - go.” Yuli urged. You raised an eyebrow at her. Yuliya hadn’t always been thrilled with your obsession for the rune necklaces, but she had found the occasional entertainment in how she could question you on any other them and you were able to quote the translations straight back to her.

“Yuli, do we ha–“

“Call it a distraction, come on.” She insisted.

You sighed quietly. “Rune of victory,” You murmured, “Success and spiritual control. Often predicts a warrior’s heart.”

“Tyr?” Yuli suggested down to you. You rolled your eyes, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulder at the evening wind chill.

“Rune of law and order.” You recited, “Foretells a passion in the legal system and ensuring justice through judgement.”

“Reid.”

“Rune of riding. Predicts wanderlust, a need for journeying – found most commonly amongst travellers and traders.”

“Oss.”

“Rune of communication, songs and words. Prophesises a scribe or bard occupation.”

“Ar?”

“Rune of timing, of knowledge and skill. Very general, can envisage anything from crafter to scholar to farmer. Presents the least direction and is seen as the most freeing rune.” You always added.

“That’s a personal opinion, not a quotation – keep it to yourself.” Yuli scolded you playfully, scowling like one of your old, stern tutors. You smirked. “Bjarkan?”

“Rebirth and purification, common amongst those in the medical profession – especially midwives.”

“Madhr.”

“Means man, family and/or clan connections. Predicts a caring personality and occupations reflect this…” You trailed off, craning your neck as you searched the recesses of you mind for the last part of that particular paragraph. “Can also been seen amongst seafaring folk.” You said quickly, nodding as you suddenly recalled it.

Yuli nodded, “Logr?”

“Water, cleansing. Another popular rune amongst sailors, but also in those that find strong devotion to the gods.” You said, fiddling with the collar of your cloak, the information easily flooding back now.

“Yr.”

“Rune means bow and iron. Also known as the death rune.” You quoted, “Often seen in those babies that die at birth and so often strikes fear in a parent. Despite its tendency to suggest a weak child, it can also suggest a stronger than average child both mentally and physically and predicts an archer or smith’s future.”

You didn’t miss Yuliya’s slight pause before she spoke the final rune, nor the flicker of concern in her eyes, nor the fact that she had purposely chosen to leave the particular rune till last. “Purs/Thurs.” She finally said, keeping her eyes firmly on you now as she waited for your answer.

The mere mention of the rune’s name always made your heart drop in your chest and your throat constrict slightly – always able to recall it, and all the extra information you had ever read concerning it, with ease. “The rune of power, strength and brute force.” You finally answered stiffly, “Used for bindings or magic staves to increase their power. Means torturer, cliff-dweller - giant. Foretells a future of harm and destruction.” You listed.

“Wrong.” Yuliya stated quietly but firmly after a pause. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes in exasperation, knowing what was to come next. “You always get that one wrong.” Your friend reminded you gently.

“It’s not wrong, Yuli,” You sighed tiredly, “That is, word for word, what every book states.”

“That is half of what the books says.” Yuli pointed out, “You always forget that the rune has i meanings. Two opposite meanings.” She stressed. “It may mean destruction. It can also mean protector.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation and exhaustion, letting your head fall back against the willow you sat against. “I thought you said this was a distraction.” You growled. “That we weren’t to talk of it anymore.”

She sighed, sitting down next to you on the damp grass. “In an ideal world…” She admitted sadly, gazing out over at the garden visible through the trees drooping branches in front of you before turning her eyes back to you. “You could say yes, you know.” She murmured.

You closed your eyes, not about to question how she knew about the proposal, “Yuli, I could not do this to someone I did not love, let alone to someone that I do.” You groaned, “This rune is my burden now, but when I marry it becomes Loki’s as well - I cannot do that to the prince.” You insisted despairingly.

“[Y/N], you have to allow the prince the choice to carry that burden.” Yuliya explained, “He may well refuse,” She continued quickly before you could refuse, “and then you may carry on with your current state of self-pity –“ You scowled, “- but the prince may agree, [Y/N] - and then you could have your happily ever after.”

All you could do was shake your head hopelessly. You didn’t know what to say. Yuli was right, no one could predict the prince’s reaction to your rune, but if he was like anyone else he would simply turn and flee.

But there was a tiny chance he would not.

But that would require you confessing to Loki, and that in itself seemed like a near impossible task. You did not think you could stand the look you knew you would see on his face when the realisation hit him. “Yuli, I – I don’t think I can do it - tell him I mean.” You clarified, “I – I can’t see –“ the look of horror, you wanted to say - the look that confirmed to you he could not love you – not all of you. Not the part that had yet to show itself. That he could not marry you, in fear of what you would become. And, if he couldn’t marry you, you knew that he would not be with you period. He was a prince after all, which meant that no matter how much fun he may find with various ladies each night currently, one day Loki would be forced to settle down and marry. And it couldn’t be with you.

Whether your heart broke now or in a few years, it would have to break.

You groaned, covering your face with your palms now, pressing the back of your head harder into the bark behind you. Why had the prince proposed to you in the first place? In your mind it made no sense. None of the past few days did. Why had he insisted on accompanying you through the market? Why had he kissed you at the wall? Why – why on that very first day of all this, had Loki come to the tower and asked for something he could damn well have made himself?!

Loki’s behaviour was just as puzzling to you as yours likely was to him. “I just don’t know.” You groaned miserably, dropping your hands from your damp cheeks and glancing across to the stone carving again. It felt like its eyes were on you, telling you that you knew what to do, you were just too scared to do it.

“What would he have said?” Yuliya asked gently next to you, nodding to the raven.

“Probably the exact same as what you have said.” You admitted with a weak laugh, “Though, he would call me princess.” You added with a small shrug, a sad smile playing on your lips at the fond memory.

“You see,” Yuliya pointed out gently, “he thought you were princess material.” You smirked feebly. “He also knew what your rune was and didn’t shun you.” Yuli pointed out, “and neither do I.” She reminded you. “There are people like that out there, [Y/N] - like your grandfather, like me, and maybe like Loki – that do not care about your rune.” She insisted earnestly. You sighed tiredly. “I promise you, [Y/N], the prince is different around you - more genuine, honest.” She explained. “Maybe it is time you are that with him.” She pointed out.

You glanced at her in surprise. She was right really. Wasn’t she? You closed your eyes, grimacing as you looked away again. Were you truly considering this? You jumped slightly when you suddenly felt a hand on your own - a warmth against the cold skin of your healing frostbite still hidden under your bandages. “Stop trying to prove yourself to him,” Yuliya urged, “And give him a chance to prove himself to you.”

Tags for everything: @thatwriterizzy @arkhamsurviour @sheldonsherlocktony @beautifulbows924 @angelicshinigami @wanna-see-my-lease @minahraven @adaliamalfoy

Tags for Loki: @drakesfiance @vanyali07 @frostymoon11 @hakuoyuki @imagine-that-100 @lexiiiii28 @vgurl18 @jungwencantdie

 Tags for Runes: @l0kisbitch

[ladamab]

Gossamer Fate

[Chapter 1] [>] “My religion is kindness.” - Dalai Lama

Meditation was impossible on this helicopter. The decision to come into Watchpoint: Gibraltar by chopper was simply a necessity. Without a hoverplane or a helicopter, the base was essentially inaccessible. They were flying in from Madrid after a 12 hour flight. One would think that omnics could not become fatigued; that simply wasn’t true. The very soul of this place exhausted him. Against Mondatta’s better judgement, Zen had downloaded the history of Gibraltar before leaving. Perhaps it was just a trick of the burning sun setting in the west, bathing the limestone in crimson, but he could swear the very air here was steeped in blood.

Since the classical era, these cliffs have stood witness to the bloodiest battles in history and now Overwatch attempted to bring peace from their shadow. There was a certain poetic irony in it. A bastion of peace abreast the Mare Nostrum. The pilot began a gentle roll, pulling them around to the mouth of the base cut directly into Europa Point and decreasing the yaw to start lining up their landing. Zenyatta felt his synthetic skin sweating lightly. The programming provided with the top-shelf skin allowed him to 'instinctively' chew on his lower lip and beginning to shift around. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that The omnic held onto the bare steel rib nearest to his seat, the suit even helpfully produced a white-knuckle effect as it sensed the amount of power in his grip. It could tell he was scared.

The bald-headed monk shifted again, once again rubbing the strange coating on his head as he began to shift around and let pressure out of his over polarized pneumatic joints. Causing them to hold a perfect locked position too long was bad for the seals and would cause him to require maintenance sooner. The last thing he wanted to do was spring a leak and start oozing mechanical oil through the pores of the skin. Zenyatta had been with the Shambali monks for nearly three years and he still wasn’t accustomed to being able to access a trained technician readily. Not only did he have a technician here at Overwatch, his original designer was here. Regardless, the humans barely trusted them to begin with--if he began to sweat demonic ooze through his skin, he imagined they’d shoot first and ask questions after.

Even the nature of the Shambali being here seemed like a dream, a nightmare, or possibly a curse. The UN had leveraged their influence to hand select two monks to come and become the religious and spiritual counsel for those who didn’t have a kindred soul in the already existing colorful cast around base. They’d requested Mondatta and him.

Why him? Zen had never been anything special. He was barely a monk. Barely anything--he'd only been off the line for only a few months when The Crisis had hit. Tucked into a dark and secluded alcove of an unused subway line, a freshly minted OP-816 had powered down for what he assumed would be the last time as the continued assault of voices had broadcasted through his mind. It had called, he had refused to answer. The chaos of Shanghai, fires and screams and the blood of innocents running like a river through the streets of the metropolis as the other Omnics became one with Shangti. Flames and corpses and whispers that only he could resist. He couldn’t run, he could barely resist, so he chose to power down with no promise that anyone would ever wake him up.

‘Come to me, Zenyatta. Come, join your brethren. Rise up and spill blood in my name… Join us--’ "Zenyatta.." A gentle voice called, a similarly synthetically skinned hand coming to rest on Zen's tanned shoulder, the one that wasn't covered in a golden sash, bringing him back to the present. It was so fascinating how these skins could pick up such subtle cues like the coolness of Mondatta's hands or the weight of the heavier-than-usual omnic hand contained inside. He allowed himself to focus rather on these small details than to let the pervasive memories seep into his consciousness. His eyes flicked up; Sweet, almond shaped and settled beneath six cerulean spots on his forehead. Few people questioned the glowing marks that all the Shambali monks had, as if being a monk from the mountains was reason enough to defy the laws of human biology. He was thankful for their oblivious ignorance. "Yes, Master?" "Worry not.." Mondatta’s gentle chide soothed Zenyatta’s invisible demons, his face at eternal ease as they swayed along with the helicopter making first contact with the tarmac. It was their internal gyroscopes function at their finest. The humans along for the ride surely assumed it was their unnatural ability to keep poised, however beneath the sweating, crying, feeling skin laid an AI and a lot of spare parts. Zenyatta looked down at his bare feet, gold painted toes peeking out from under his white linen pants and red sash. The feeling of worrying the fabrics together, provided by the new skin that the UN had forced them both to wear, was surprisingly soothing. This was just another step toward hiding what he was, who he was, and accepting that humans needed to be lied to for Omnics to be safe. He didn't like it--Mondatta liked it even less--but right now it was dangerous for them to try and live in a base full of Crisis veterans without them. "I will try, Master. I aspire toward tranquility always." "Aspire, my student, that is all anyone can ever ask of you." The older monk replied, offering him a gentle smile and pulling a golden bangle from his own wrist and offered it to the younger bot out of solidarity.

‘Join us.’

The skins could sweat, they could bleed, and, in rare instances like this, they could even cry. Zen would never get used to the feeling of artificial saline rolling down his cheeks. The Shambali monks had been the ones to find him nearly twenty years after he’d originally powered down. Mondatta’s faceplate had been the first thing seen his optics had fully processed and the man was his close friend and father figure. The person who had named him ‘Zenyatta’. "Thank you master." Zenyatta bowed at the waist respectfully, pushing the bangle onto his wrist and rubbed his face as the airlock blew open with a loud 'woosh'. His optics scrambled to adjust to the glare of the setting sun, struggling to increase their contrast until a pair of figures came into focus. They were standing just inside the darkness provided by the stone where the base was cut directly into one the historic Pillars of Hercules. His skin’s programming engaged and Zen’s left arm lifted to shield his eyes from the still circulating clouds of dust kicked up by the huge double rotors on the martial helicopter they’d just disembarked.

Two, one about seven or eight centimeters taller than the other. A shock of bright blue hair; red eyes behind a mask. They both seemed to have some kind of branding on their shoulders that he just couldn’t make out from this angle and distance with the dust in the wind.The more he squinted to really focus on the pair, the more Zenyatta felt their positioning specifically out of the bounds of human sight was strategic… and he’d already outed himself by straining to see them.

“Hello, hello! Sorry!” Zen’s attention had only been diverted to the blond jogging up to them for a split second but when he turned back the pair of watchers were gone. “Sorry I’m late, I got caught in a call.” The blond man smiled, leaning on his knees as he caught his breath for a second before putting a hand out to Mondatta for a shake.

“Worry not,” Mondatta replied, smiling a bit wider so the eyes on his skin closed fully to match the way his faceplate usually appeared, “We have not been waiting long. Are you Strike Commander Morrison?” He asked, taking the hand politely and shook it. When it was offered to Zen, the smaller omnic stepped closer to Mondatta but returned the shake. His hand was surprisingly firm but not strong enough to roll the joints together like some handshakes.

“Yeah, that’s me. You can just call me Jack.” Morrison replied easily, not allowing Zen’s obvious unease affect his sunny expression. He gestured with his clipboard toward the main portion of the base, using that motion to try and coax the pair of monks off the busy flight deck so that the helicopter could be serviced and sent back out. Zen gently pressed his fingers between his mentor’s shoulder blades to coax him into following after their apparent guide. The fear between them was nearly palpable but that didn’t mean they could afford to loiter here and cause a delay. The more compliant they were, the less likely people were to ask probing questions.

“Jack-ji,” Zenyatta’s called with a slightly tense timbre to his voice, watching for the blond to glance behind to ensure that they were both following. “We’ve had a long journey,” He said as the three of them passed beneath the shadow provided by that stone canopy. A quick glance around was all that was needed to ensure the watchers from before weren’t there as the neon-blue hair would be immediately visible. “Is there any way we could postpone the grand tour until after we’ve had time to rest and unpack?”

It wasn’t as if they had much to unpack or even a large need for rest like humans had, but they’d both benefit from time to power down and restart their processes. The servos were overdue for a cooling period as well. Mondatta had a joint that leaked hydraulic fluid; Zen needed to refill it and ensure that the skin wasn’t leaking or damaged. Maintenance.  

“Oh yeah, I--” Jack cursed under his breath in a way that the pair of them shouldn’t have been able to hear but quickly fixed another hospitable smile on his face and altered his course to start for the dorms where the monks would be staying. “I completely forgot. It’s been a busy day.”

“That’s fine,” Mondatta chirped pleasantly, walking along at almost a glide--In fact Zenyatta realized it was a glide. His master’s knee must have locked up. He continued pressing the other to guide his now hovering teacher behind Jack. It was lucky he was wearing long robes or the humans would have likely questioned the ability. “How are we so lucky to have you as our greeting?”

Mrs. Morrison hadn’t raised any kids dippy enough to not see that comment for exactly what it was: Zenyatta had already heard of him. Jack took it well enough in stride, smiling over his shoulder and then waved to the guard house beside the door so that it would be unlocked and opened. These large doors were a precaution against the huge storms that battered the Atlantic sea. Right here on the cusp of the Atlantic and Mediterranean, Gibraltar caught the brunt of both of them. 140mm of rain in November alone, on average. Zen shook his head, setting a reminder to purge his databanks of that sort of needless knowledge later when he had more time to sift through it.

“The dorms are right through here. They asked me how we should accommodate you both and I, honestly, wasn’t sure.” Jack explained, taking out a keycard to open the door manually. “The first passcode is Mondatta’s birthday. It’ll then prompt you to make a new one.” He explained, sliding the keycard back into his long, blue jacket. “Once you’re both situated, consider maybe coming out for dinner? I know there are a lot of people who are very excited to meet you.”

Zenyatta gently pushed the floating monk through the door and dropped into a quick half bow before rising back to full height. The American was an imposing 6’1”, according to the biography available on the PR page of the Overwatch website. As one of the major figures, he had an entire webpage dedicated just to himself as if he were some kind of superhero.

6’1”, 73 inches, 185.42 cm. Jack Morrison: Omnic Crisis veteran, SEP program, prefers Heavy Pulse Rifle and Sonic Missiles. Hometown: Bloomington, Indiana, USA. Projected Weaknesses: Close range agility, Immobilization, Knees.

Honestly, the fact that Americans were still hanging onto imperial measurement after all this time was astounding. “I will consult Mondatta after we have both had time to rest. I imagine that dinner won’t be a problem, though we do usually eat in our quarters at the monastery.” Mondatta wouldn’t have had the heart to lie; Zenyatta didn’t have the heart to get them both killed. That little voice that helpfully reminded him he wasn’t actually a monk was squashed with great prejudice

“Oh,” Jack’s smile faltered a bit and he fiddled with the lapel on his long jacket, “Is that some kind of religious thing?”

“Something like that.” Another white lie; another tarnish on his already non-existent honor.

“Oh well, I can send somebody to deliver your food. It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure Lena would love to do it.” Morrison seemed more than willing to volunteer his subordinates.

“I appreciate the accommodation,” Zenyatta’s attention was stolen back inside as Mondatta quite literally dropped all of his steel-chassis onto the bed and caused it to groan and creak in protest. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wha--” Jack stepped back a bit in surprise as the door was closed quickly in his face without even giving him the opportunity to respond. He finally allowed the cheerful smile to melt off his features. Honestly, his face actually hurt some from maintaining it for so long. Morrison worked his jaw, rubbing the muscles as he turned to walk down the hall toward the elevator to take him up to the offices.

“What do you think?” One of these days, Gabe was going to scare him directly out of his skin. It was almost as if he just metamorphosed directly out of the shadows into being.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what to think.” Jack frowned, watching Gabe push himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against and start to walk beside him. “I didn’t really even talk to them that much. They just got off a 14 hour journey and they wanted to rest… I can’t even say as I blame them but now thanks to your stupid idea, I look like an idiot.”

Gabe got these little crinkles beside his eyes when he was truly amused by something, a side-effect of time and age, and they were on full display now. “You’ve legitimately forgotten about travel time before. It wasn’t even my idea, it was Ana.”

Jack uncrossed his arm and pressed the clipboard into Gabe’s chest with an unamused frown. “Name one time that I’ve done that.”

“Aw, Capo,” Gabe grinned, doing his best impression of a Newark accent, “Ain’cha got any sympathy? I been on a plane fer 10 hours ‘n youse guys ‘r just gonna--”

“Alright, alright, enough.” Jack grumbled, shoulder checking the Blackwatch Commander with enough power that he had to fight to right himself before he became intimately acquainted with the wall. “So I forgot Max. That’s once. You’re terrible at that accent, by the way. Just so you know, don’t ever--” “Evah.” “--ever do that again. Particularly near Max. He’ll shit a kitten.” Morrison finished, finding himself smiling despite himself at the terrible mimicking of their resident hacker. The accent didn’t show up unless he already knew you pretty well but when it did, it came on thick. Nearly worse than McCree’s and that was really sayin’ somethin’. Jack winced and looked over as Gabe began to laugh loudly into both hands. “You thought something in his voice, didn’t you?” Gabe cackled, returning the shoulder check as they stopped to wait for an elevator. “You think it’s bad for you? I have to listen to him in my ear on missions all the time. You’ve never had him swear your mother into an early grave in Italian yet. That’s a fucking riot.”

“Sometimes I really worry about you.” Jack chuckled, conceding defeat as the elevator doors opened with a cheerful ‘ding!’

“Only sometimes?” Gabe asked, waiting for them both to get in the elevator and the doors to shut before he reached out to snag Jack’s hand in his.

“Only sometimes. The rest of the time I worry about the people who have to deal with you; chiefly me.”

“Ay, you married me. You brought this on yourself.”

[shadcatmastered]

Vampire Law x Werewolf Kid - Fanfiction -  A Toy

Kid could go. He could just go out the door anytime ... He should really go. He would die if he stayed. But he did not do it. Kid sighed softly as he spun around in his bed. His red coat had become dull and rough. Again and again, large tufts fell out. If he were still in his pack, the other werewolves would take care of him. Actually, Kid often thought of his pack. He missed them all. He missed his home. There was only the smell of vampires around him now. The evil smell of death. He should go. He could just go out the door anytime ... He should really go. The redhead sat up in bed. He looked sadly at the red wolf hair on the bedsheets. Was he sick...? At that moment, the door in his dark room opened. It was this moment that made Kid forget everything. His suffering, his pain. Kid smiled as he looked at Law. His pale skin shimmered in the moonlight. His black hair looked thick and healthy. And those beautiful blue eyes, looking straight into him. When he smiled, you could see the long vampire teeth. "My little wolf..., I'm hungry." Law's grin was so seductive that Kid looked at him like a dream. Without his noticing, Kid reached out for Law. Meanwhile, Kids smile became a luminous expression of joy. "Law ... I missed you so much." The vampire came closer. He sat on Kids lap and put his hands on his chest. Gently, he pushed him down to the bed and Kid saw his gaze only look at the throbbing vein on his neck. "I really left you alone too long ..." Law whispered his words and Kid just nodded. "Way too long." But the black-haired did not seem to listen as he opened his mouth. The white vampire teeth grew even longer as Kid felt him put it on his scarred neck. The next moment the sharp teeth penetrated his skin and the pain made him wince. He turns under Law and feels the discomfort. It hurts. It seemed to hurt more with every bite. It almost felt like the dream-bubble was bursting around him. A wail, like a dog's whimpering, escaped his mouth. Kids hands laid on Law's shoulders and began to press against it. No no...! He wanted to stop it ...! This was not right, or ...? Law had never hurt him in the past ... His heart began to throb faster, but suddenly Law's hands were there. Laws hands stroking his chest. Devoutly they stroked through the fur and ran his muscles along. The black-haired man also began to rub his abdomen against his and a gasp escaped the werewolf. A wave of lust flooded his body and Kid did not notice how Law's magic took him back. How he forgot his worries and pains when Law's hand wrapped around his cock. The gasp made an eager moan as the vampire began to rub him hard. "My little wolf, you always stay with me. I am the only one you love, right...?" The voice of the vampire was a whisper as he briefly interrupted his drinking. So seductive that Kid wrapped his arms around Law's neck. Instead of pushing Law away, he pulled him even closer to him. Kid even heard Law chuckle maliciously, but this warning no longer reached his stupid soul. "Yes! I’m yours! You'll remember me again! I'm sure... you just need more time...!"

Long ago, Kid had fallen in love with a human. A doctor from the city, who had come into the deep haunted forest to collect medicinal herbs. The redhead had not seen a human being for a long time. He was intrigued by the sight and amused how he tried to be brave, when Kid showed himself to the man. He could smell the sweat of fear so clearly. The werewolf seduced the man on the spot. After that he left confused and full of doubts. Kid had done something with him, which the man longed for, but was forbidden among humans. Werewolves did not look so strict. Why should it be bad if two males or two females mate with each other? It was all about the fun! After that, the man came again and again. At some point, Kid noticed how he felt a strange attraction to him. All the things that Law said, that way of dealing with him and acting that way among the werewolves fascinated Kid a lot. Law was just a human and yet he moved among them as if the black-haired were a born werewolf. At some point they started talking about each other as 'their male'. That made Kid very happy. He suddenly knew what it meant to love someone. To feel like belonging to someone. It was wonderful. At some point, Law moved to the pack. He did not leave the humans permanently, but he spent most of their time with the werewolfes, and of course: Most of the time with Kid. Kid kissed and loved him before he startet his journey to bring Law the sign of eternal loyalty. A plant that grew on the highest mountain of a distant mountain range. Only a few werewolves took the risk of this almost deadly journey. But he did it. After two weeks, he returned with the plant. Kid was full of wounds and dirt, yet infinitely happy. Law accepted the gift and that sealed their affiliation. Kid never wanted to have anyone else but Law. But one day, the human was gone. Disappeared as if he had never existed. The werewolf looked for him everywhere. He was desperate and felt he would go mad if he could not find Law anymore. Fear and pain made his heart and body completely numb. Kid got the feeling that he could not live without Law. It passed a week. Kid had returned to the pack. Beaten and full of grief as he retired to his hut and refused to speak to anyone. At night, he suddenly heard a gentle knock on the door. The werewolf had not been able to sleep anyway and then opened the door. It was like a dream. Law was in front of him. White as the snow, full of dirt and the smell of death surrounded him. Law's blue eyes looked at him without recognizing him. All the instincts in Kid screamed to drive the undead out. To kill him, as long as his claws were still sharp and the black magic did not work yet. But his stupid heart only saw Law. "Law...! My Law...!" His voice was a whisper, but without thinking about it, Kid embraced Law. He hugged Law and wept with happiness to have him back. He hugged the vampre, even as he attacked him like a hungry animal. The vampire teeth cracked his throat and he drank so fiercely that Kid fell to the ground. That was the beginning of the end. Kid knew what vampires were. He knew that they went to their loved ones after their awakening. They would drink their blood until there was no drop left. He also knew that vampires were no longer the persons they were as humans. They had no memories and no emotions. They were completely different beings, with the faces of those they were before. Kid knew it all. And yet he only saw Law. His Law, which he considered lost. The smell of death blew around his nose like a scream. His fur struggled and his muscles burned. But it was Law ... his Law ...! Kid kissed and kissed him, even as he approached death. Law drank and drank, and if he were a human, he would have died long ago. But werewolves did not die so fast. The black-haired did not leave him until he was full. Then the vampire teeth slid out of his throat and Law sat down on his chest. That look in the blue eyes ... Kid often had nightmares about it. Law looked him up and down. Appraising, questioning and ... despising? From above, as if he had just discovered a puppy and was now considering whether he should kill him immediately ..., or whether he should kill the puppy after he had abused him again and again. That look scared Kid. "Law ... Law, what's going on..? Everything's alright! You're back, you came home!" Kids voice was desperate and his body trembled. He wanted Law. He wanted his Law back. "Home...?" Even Law's voice sounded different. And yet ... it was Law's voice ...! "Yes!" Kid rejoices in a desperate joy, but those strange dead eyes continue to study him. "... it's me ... your Kid…! You recognize me...? You did not forget me...?" The claws of the werewolf drove off automatically. They scratched the wood beneath him and his golden eyes eyed the vampire. His mind finally reached his heart. If that was not Law anymore ... then he had to kill him. Suddenly the vampire started to smile. It was an uncertain, sweet smile. "Kid ... of course I recognize you ...!" Law put his icy hands on his chest and looked him in the eye. Kids head shouted: 'HE'S LYING! VAMPIRE ARE CLEAN LIARS! ' But his heart was warm and happy. A smile and pure relief spread over Kids Face. He reached out his trembling hands and stroked Law's cheeks. He had retracted his claws. Law has always been something special. He would not become such a vicious, dead creature. No way. "Oh Law...!" The vampire smiled. The white teeth still smeared with his red blood. "But Kid ... something happened to me ... I hardly remember anything ... I need your help ...!" The black magic of the vampires seeped into Kids mind. Law's soft voice tightened around his limbs and the werewolf fell into the hands of the vampire. If only one other werewolf had been awake, they could have saved Kid. They would have seen the magic of the vampire steal the werewolf's mind. But nobody was awake. It was just Kid and Law. "I'll help you ... Everything will be fine with you again! You'll remember everything again! I'll take care of that!" Kids hands stroking Law's hair. He wanted to console and reassure him. In his eyes, Law was scared and needed help! But the vampire sat calmly on his chest. A wicked smile played on his lips. He had found a toy so soon after his birth. How nice. Law leaned down and kissed Kid tenderly. The redhead sighed and kissed the cold lips with fervor. "Kid, we have to go. When the other werewolves wake up ... they will not understand ..." What...? "But Law ..." They lived here in this pack. This was her family! But suddenly the vampire got up. Kid was startled and followed quickly. He almost fell to the ground as the loss of blood became apparent.No! Law could not leave him alone! NO! Full of fear, the warm werewolf pressed against the cold vampire. Law then grinned smugly. "Are you coming with me?" Law extended his hand. A cute smile on his lips. Kids doubt disappeared. He would never lose Law again! He would take care of him! Much better than ever! And he would help him! Everything will be the same again! Even better! The werewolf grabbed the hand of the vampire. "Of course, I'll never leave you alone!" Law smiled. He kissed him and Kid was happy. Just happy. Law held his hand as they left. When the other werewolves awoke a few hours later, Kids Hut was empty. The whole floor was covered with blood and torn pieces of skin and fur. The smell of death was in the air. Mixed in the fading smell of Law. Grief and pain spread in the pack. They knew what had happened. The death had taken Kid with him. They would never see him again.

written by Shadcatmastered

- I’m sorry for mistakes. English is not my native language.-

[barpurplewrites]

A Direct Proposal - Chapter 2

Chapter (ONE)

Lady Belle is not going to stand by and simperingly accept the husband her father has chosen for her. Her plan to prevent her marriage is bold, and full of dangers. The plan the knight she wants to marry suggests is no less fraught with danger, but it will give them the chance to truly come to know each other. 

-x-x-x-

Maurice was strolling through the castle observing the preparations for the Harvest Celebration when he spotted a gaggle of giggling maids mooning over something in the courtyard. He smiled to himself, the Harvest always raised spirits and caused more marriages then the First Bloom of Spring. He ambled over to see what had caught their attention, he always liked to be aware of the courtships of his household. He’d been expecting to see a page or squire doing some heavy lifting or such, so the sight of his own daughter, clad in her nightgown and robe caused him to stumble.

What the bloody hell was going on? He strode forward only to stop dead in his tracks as the masked man a few feet from her came into view. A masked man wearing a tunic striped of the emblems of his house, holding the reins of two horses.

A memory, some twenty years old rose in his mind. At that time, he had been stood where masked man was now, with his darling Collette standing by his side, wearing a pair of britches beneath her ballgown, ready for their flight from her father’s castle. He squinted at the fella, trying to discern his identity, for he was far too slight for Sir Gaston, besides the Southlands had never adopted this tradition. He had honestly thought that this would never happen, Marriage by Abduction had never been in vogue in Avonlea, or the larger kingdoms of Misthaven, but he remembered well the part he was honour-bounded to play now.

“Halt! What is the meaning of this Sir!”

The masked man swivelled on his toe and suddenly Maurice knew exactly who was Abducting Belle; Sir Rumplestiltskin. The revelation filled him with some sense of calm, he at least understood the rules of this particular courtship.

“I abduct your daughter with a view to marriage, if she consents.”

Maurice bit back a smile at the shrill, twittering cadence the knight had given to his voice, it was a damn sight better than his own attempt to disguise his identity. His darling Collette had developed a sudden coughing fit when he’d spoked similar words to her father in his best impression of a Frontlands’ accent.

“And how can I be assured of my daughter’s honour and virtue Sir?”

That wasn’t quite what Collette’s father had said to him, but there had never been an exact script to follow for this, as long as certain elements were observed then any words were acceptable. Collette’s father had pushed that to the limits with a hefty dose of vulgar insults thrown at him, but he wasn’t going to subject Belle’s would-be suitor to the same. The masked man drew his dagger, and several of the men that had gathered to watch the spectacle moved forward with their hands on their swords.

“Halt! No one will move against this man without my express permission. There will be no interference. Is that understood?”

Maurice’s bellow was obeyed by all, he inclined his head slightly to Rumplestiltskin, who gave no acknowledgement of his permission to continue. He swivelled again to present the unsheathed dagger to Belle hilt first.

“By mine own blade she shall draw my blood should I or any of my house offend her,” – a slow gesture of his free hand beckoned Belle’s maid Ruby forward, - “and a lady she trusts will be present at all times, this I swear to you my Lord.”

Maurice held his breath waiting for Belle to take the dagger. If she refused it, he would let the guards tackle the presumptuous knight and beat him, he might even go as far as unmasking him and locking him in the stocks for a day if Belle voiced a single word against his conduct. Belle’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade and she extended her other hand to Rumplestiltskin.

“I accept your dagger and grant you seven days to convince me of your worth.”

With Belle’s consent the masked man took her hand and pulled her in close. There were a few startled gasps at the boldness, but they turned into sighs as he gracefully swung her up onto his horse while controlling her gown in order to protect her modesty. Maurice was impressed that he spared Ruby a glance and ensured that she was seated on her horse before he swung himself into the saddle behind Belle. He wheeled the horse and trotted over to Maurice, this is where he would find out if he assumption that the masked man was indeed Rumplestiltskin. A folded scrap of parchment was dropped into his hand and Belle and her Abductor galloped out of the courtyard followed closely by Ruby.

Maurice looked down at the parchment and smiled at the spinning wheel pressed into the pale blue sealing wax.

“Oh Collette, if only you could see how much like you our daughter is.”

He had no time for fond reminiscing as the nobles descended upon him demanding answers for the strange events of the past few moments.

“My Lord! Why did you allow this?”

“What is going on, mi’lord?”

“An Abduction, oh I’ve not seen one in decades!”

One voice that was absent from the general clamour was that of Sir Gaston. Maurice frowned, surely someone would have run to him and told him what was going on? Perhaps he was out on an early ride. He raised his hands and when that didn’t silence the gabbling mass he raised his voice.

“Silence. My council will meet in half an hour to discuss this matter,” – he waited a beat as the disappointed mumble ran around the crowd, council meetings were closed matters, usually, - “The meeting will be in the great hall and open to all.”

He turned away and walked inside. The meeting was going to be a riot, but at least the court would have a first-hand explanation of the Laws governing Marriage by Abduction, with any luck that would prevent some of the more scandalous rumours from developing further.

As the thrill of his announcement ran around the rest of the castle Maurice hurried away to his chambers. He needed time to collect himself before the meeting. He took the portrait of his darling Collette from the desk and sat down heavily in his chair.

“I always hoped you would be watching over her my love. Is Gaston such a bad match that you had to interfere from beyond?”

He stoked his finger over the portrait, and sighed. He tried to be a good father to Belle, but as she had grown he’d felt more adrift. Belle had become more and more like his lost love; she devoured books just like her mother. It was her love of books that had caused his council to suggest Sir Gaston as a suitable match.

“After all, mi’lord, at the rate Lady Belle consumes romance novels, her expectations for a handsome hero will be very high, and none is so handsome, nor as beneficial as the son of the Southlands.”

Maurice huffed to himself, he had known in his heart that Belle read more than novels, but she was older than most brides and he had allowed his worries for her future to cloud his judgement. He pressed a brief kiss to the portrait.

“I am sorry my folly disturbed your rest my darling. I will see that Belle has the marriage she wants. Although is looks like she has taken matters in hand herself.”

He returned the portrait to its place and rang for his page.

“I need to speak to Widow Lucas privately before the meeting. Oh, and find out where Sir Gaston has gotten to, and inform him of the meeting, please.”

He was lost in his own thoughts and did not notice how the page’s face fell at the instruction to find Sir Gaston.