#Slaughtering every alternate version of yourself?

[spider-on-your-soap]

something something Bill and Ford. something something Kayne and Arthur

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 17

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Max Phillips x Female Reader

Word Count: 1900+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, canon divergence, lots of blood, reference to murder, Dark Max--seriously, he deserves a stake through the heart, nonconsensual kissing and touching, panic attack symptoms, horror elements, mention of sex at the very end

Author Note: And we’re finally back to this fic! Ahhhh so sorry for the long delay! Please pay attention to the warnings since this chapter is a bit darker than previous ones. And thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝

PART 1 / PART 16 / PART 18

After meeting Dio, you think there’s nothing that could scare you anymore. What could be scarier than the Devil, after all? 

Still, there’s something a bit unnerving about finding yourself curled in a ball inside a poorly lit janitor closet without knowing why. Worse, a look down at yourself reveals an awful amount of blood spatter on your shirt–the lack of wound your frantic hands fail to find means it’s not your blood which you don’t know whether to feel relieved about or not. And even worse still, you see the cube sitting on one of the shelves directly across from you next to a tool bag and yet your body remains paralyzed in place, refusing to move. 

Flickers of memories from this universe slip through your fragile wall of defense. Flashes of dead bodies with gaping wounds and echoes of horrified screams have your stomach recoiling, bile rising in the back of your throat. And the blood on your shirt suddenly has a new and significant terrifying meaning.

Outside the closet door, a massacre has taken place. All your coworkers–slaughtered and torn to pieces. No survivors. No one to call for help.

Your breath starts coming out in faster pants. Oh shit. You’re trapped here. Alone. And you can’t leave this nightmare until you meet the Brown Eyes of this universe. 

Your head snaps up, a small candle of hope burning away the dark thoughts.

In the past your Brown Eyes has always been there for you, always saved you when you needed him most. If anyone could rescue you from this closet, it would be him.

You cradle the precious feeling, its tiny flame fighting against the cold chill of fear. And for a minute you think you’ll be alright, you’ll be safe here despite all the odds. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Everything’s going to be o–”

Then the door handle jerks, an explosion of sound in the otherwise quiet space, jostled by somebody on the other side attempting entry, and you forget how to breathe, lungs seized by panic.

“Babydoll,” a dulcet and suave voice croons from behind the door, “be a good girl, won’t you, and let me inside?”

Recognition hits you like a wave of ice water, snuffing out your hope and leaving you a trembling mess. Everything feels so very far away all of the sudden because that voice, you’d know it anywhere–and it’s, it’s supposed to be a comfort, a reassurance of love and support, not strike terror directly into your soul. Not a siren song luring you to your doom.

“Come on now, doll.” There’s a hint of irritation now, a crack in the charming facade, followed by a harsh fist banging against the door. “Let me in or I’m going to break down this door.”

Sucking in a strangled breath, you push yourself further into the corner nook between the wall and storage cabinet, curling your limbs into a tighter ball, praying the trash cans and massive yellow cart of mops and brooms hide you from view. All you can think is please, please, please in sync with your frantic heartbeat. 

The door bursts open, slamming so intensely the handle punches a hole through the wall and gets stuck there. You bite back a scream, tasting blood on your tongue. Light from the hallway pours into the closet, outlining Max in all his spine-chilling glory. 

You peer at him through a sliver of a gap between the cart and cabinet, hands clammy and chest tight like your ribcage is on the verge of collapsing. 

Max is bathed in blood. His gray waistcoat and white dress shirt look as if they’ve been dyed crimson, so soaked with blood the fabric grossly sticks to his torso and arms, a sickening parody of those wet t-shirt contests one of your boss’s secretaries always bragged about winning back in high school. Your eyes slowly trail up over the smeared streaks of scarlet on his neck to his chiseled face. He could pass for a younger Marcus so easily if not for the glint of fangs you see as his upper lip curls into an irritated snarl.

In comparison to Max, Dio resembles a baby lamb. 

You’re terrified to breathe, to even blink and risk taking your eyes off him for a second. He hasn’t seen me, you keep thinking, desperate to keep yourself calm despite every cell in your body screaming about the danger you’re in. He hasn’t seen me, he hasn’t seen me, he hasn’t–

Max’s head slowly tilts, nostrils flaring. 

You dig your nails into your palm so harshly there’s sure to be crescent shaped scars in the aftermath if you survive. 

There is a moment, an impossibly long second, where Max’s gaze drifts along the closet’s contents–toilet paper bundles and garbage bags and the abundant amount of cleaning supplies–slowly, but gradually heading in your direction. 

Oh no. No, no, no! Leave me alone, your mind pleads. The roaring of blood in your ears almost blocks out the sound of glass breaking from somewhere down the hallway. You flinch back against the wall reflexively when it registers, and when your eyes open up again, Max is gone.

You suck in a much needed breath of air, then slowly push yourself up on shaky legs, one hand braced on the wall. The cube is still there on the shelf when you look. You’re still unsure whether to believe Dio’s claim that the cube wants you to solve it or not. With the way it’s just sitting there, waiting for you to come pick it up, you think the damn thing could care less whether you survived this universe or not.

Creeping around the janitor cart as quietly as you can manage, you keep your eyes locked on the cube and your ears pricked for the slightest of sounds indicating Max’s return. 

No matter the universe, you aren’t a fan of horror movies. You’ve never liked the gore or the jump scares, worst of all the ones involving demonic possessions where the character loses all control of themselves. At least in your universe, you had Marcus to cuddle with when the nightmares plagued your sleep.

Here, Max is the nightmare you can’t wake up from.

You don’t allow yourself to wonder what will happen to this universe’s you when you leave, if she’ll end up a corpse just like everybody else. You just keep inching forward, closer and closer to the cube. 

A noise from outside–the squeak of a shoe on tile–has you freezing. 

Your brain goes haywire, a hundred thoughts rising up all at once and colliding with each other, leaving you trembling in place. And through it all, the cube still sits there. Waiting for you to make a choice.

The instinct to live kicks in, white-hot and impulsive, propelling you forward in a desperate lunge to close the last foot of distance. Your fingertips brush against the gold metal a second before something tackles you from behind, crowding you against the shelf with such brute strength you can’t stop yourself from yelping upon impact, the edges of the shelf digging painfully into your torso. 

Max growls, a low, pleased noise deep in his chest that vibrates through your backside from the proximity, and then the vampire’s large hands turn you around to face him. This close, you can see tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes, reminding you of fireflies. It’s strange, the things people think of when they’re scared and seconds away from having their throats ripped  out.

You inhale short, shuddered breaths through your nose, fighting not to squirm as he leans even closer, nose trailing along your jawline, still growling. His hands squeeze your hips, not tight enough to bruise but enough to warn you against attempting an escape. If you really enraged him, he could shatter bone with his enhanced strength as easily as snapping a pencil. The thought sends another bolt of paralyzing fear through your limbs.

Your frantic heartbeat skyrockets when a warm, wet tongue licks at your pulse point on your neck. Recoiling backwards, you knock your skull against the shelf hard enough you see stars.

“Oh, babydoll, my sweet tasting girl,” Max rasps, humor laced in his tone like he finds this whole situation extremely entertaining. He caresses your cheek with the backs of his fingers, fangs bared in the semblance of a smile. “I promised it’d be you and me in the end. And I always keep my promises.”

“M-Max,” you whimper, throat clogged with emotion and tongue swollen from biting it.

Eyes flick down to your mouth, pupils expanding with arousal, fireflies swallowed by blackness.

“Don’t–”

Your voice is stolen by lips smashing against yours. There’s nothing loving or gentle about the kiss. It’s a mess of sharp fangs and an insistent tongue eager to taste your blood, selfish and abrasive. Pressed against the shelf by the full weight of Max’s bulk, the small part of your mind not drowning in terror takes a chance and seizes control, instructing one hand to rake through his hair, eliciting a moan as his lips disconnect from yours with a lewd, spit slick pop.

Your other hand, uncomfortably stretching behind your back during his moment of distraction, bumps into the cube and latches onto it immediately.

“You’re one in a million, babydoll. Never met anyone who tastes like you,” Max praises, speaking against the tender skin of your neck, sucking and kissing and nipping. “You survive the change, I’m never letting you out of my sight. I promise.”

It takes a moment for your oxygen-deprived brain to understand what he means. Change? What does that–? 

And then with gut-wrenching clarity, it hits you.

He wants you to become like him. A bloodsucking bastard.

Another sloppy kiss is pressed against your neck right before soft lips are replaced by pointy teeth breaking skin, a flare of pain immediately bursting from the area as blood seeps down your collarbone in rivulets.

You wail out a hoarse and agonized “No!” and then, faster than you’ve ever moved before, you wrench your arm forward and grab hold of the cube with both hands, twisting it without hesitation before he can stop you.

You arrive in the next universe with electric currents of fear still coursing through your body. You collapse onto the ground, limbs too jittery to properly hold you up, teeth clacking painfully against each other. Tears drip down your cheeks, one after another, but your hands refuse to relinquish their death-grip on the cube to wipe them away. 

There’s no wound on your neck, no blood stains on your clothes. You’re in a whole new universe and yet you can still feel his lips and hot breath on your skin.

He…He almost…

You close your eyes and shake your head, fiercely cutting off that line of thought. 

Never again, you make a vow to yourself. Never again will you allow any version of Brown Eyes to treat you like that. Never, ever again.

“There you are.” Your eyes fly open, looking up to lock with a pair peering down at you over the rims of sunglasses. This version of Marcus is a bit scruffier than you’re used to seeing him, curls an unruly mess, stains on his t-shirt and—is he wearing a bathrobe of all things? “Are you okay, angel?”

“I’m just dandy, Dieter.” Your reply is just a touch sardonic as you scrub away the lingering tears with your sleeve. Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you ask with a sniffle, “What’s up with you?”

“Well, since you asked.” He claps his hands together, looking at you straight on with an expression of pure hopefulness. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

You raise an eyebrow, hesitant to agree to anything until you hear the actual request.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

[siswritesyanderes]

Would you be willing to write yandere Loki from MCU? I like this character very much and I love your writing. I would be very grateful if you could write this.

Ohh, I definitely would, but at what point in Loki's life?

So many options.

(In all cases, Reader is for Earth, as far as I'm concerned; he could've found someone on Earth anytime.)

Pre-Thor Loki is a mishievous, magical prince with no particular emotional baggage, but he does feel that he lives in his brother's shadow, advising against rashness and seemingly less impressive, to a society fond of war. Yandere Loki in this stage of life would be sweet, and not quite as possessive as he would be later in life. He would be very hungry for acknowledgement and praise. You would pretty much have to compliment him all day long, but he would give you a nice, palatial room and a flowing Asgardian wardrobe and a banquet table full of the best foods, and he'd be very affectionate.

Thor-era Loki learns about his true lineage. This could go a few different ways: three, I think.

1. Broken Loki. He's inconsolable, and you're his only comfort. He tells you what he is, and what happened with Odin, and you have to tell him that he isn't a monster, that everything will be okay. He doesn't believe you, but you have to keep saying it, because if you don't, he'll go mad. He brings you everywhere with him, to keep him anchored.

2. Close-to-the-chest Loki. After such a disruption to his self image, he can't bear to lose you. He keeps you in the dark about everything, kind of like he does Frigga. He doesn't tell you what transpired with Odin, and he makes sure to frame his own actions, with regards to Thor, in a way that paints him as helpless to contest Odin's laws, or justified in maintaining them. He's much more controlling towards you, though. After all that's happened, he can't risk letting you around other people; Sif and the Warriors Three resent him, and what if they start whispering in your ear? Making you hate him? He can't let that happen. He can't let anyone talk to you but him. You don't even have servants anymore; he'll make sure you're cared for, with magic. He needs to maintain your love for him, at all costs, now that he can't love himself.

3. Lashing out Loki. He tells you that he's a Jotunn, and he tells you that he is a monster, and he tells you that it's his fault that Odin is in the Odinsleep, and he confesses to every bad thing he's done in his life, and he tells you about the bad things he's planning on doing next. He appears to relish in giving you every reason to hate him; it's a way of punishing himself, kind of. He almost demands that you hate and fear him, while fearing that you really will. Whether you respond with hate/fear or not, he'll keep pushing. He needs to show you his worse self, needs you to see him as he is. If you (justifiably) want to leave at that point, he'll make you sound unreasonable for doing so. What, you can't love him like this? Would you prefer the polished, silver-tongued, Asgardian prince? Or perhaps you would prefer Thor? Everyone would. No matter how monstrously Thor acts, he'll never be as much a monster as Loki, will he?

Avengers-era Loki is more sadistic. If this is the point where he takes an interest in you, that's real unfortunate. This one could go two ways:

1. He scepters you. Your eyes turn a misty blue, as he takes control of your mind. He makes you walk by his side and call yourself his, with a proud smile on your face. He caresses your cheek fondly. The Avengers are very unsettled by the display of power and ownership, telling him to let you go, and that you have nothing to do with this. He asks them, "What difference does that make?" You're like a flower that he picked on a whim and put in his lapel. It isn't until they see how resistant Loki is to letting you be rescued that they realize that he's serious about keeping you. He found a Midgardian he wants, and he will have his Midgardian, even if you pose no strategic advantage for him, and even if he has to expend effort to keep you.

2. He doesn't scepter you. It amuses him to just kidnap you, and surround you with eerie, mind-controlled people, and see your fear and helplessness. When the Avengers see you (and you're not as on-display, in this version, as you are in the other), they're puzzled as to why he hasn't sceptered you, and what his plans are with you. When Hawkeye isn't needed for a mission, he's guarding you. He's fairly personable, but he only talks about how great it is to be mind-controlled and how lucky you are that Loki abducted you, and it's very creepy. When Loki himself is around you, he's very teasing and malevolent. He doesn't go so far as to actually touch you in a licentious way, but he doesn't really have to; you're trapped among his mind zombies and can't escape, and his vibes toward you are ominous enough.

Alternate ending post-Avengers Loki, just because a Loki who wins would be very spicy indeed. You're like...the spoils of war. And he'd give you lots of gifts; he'd drape you in the crown jewels of England and house you in whichever palace he likes the most, but that's more a matter of his ego (decorating something that belongs to him, like buying clothes for a doll) than your comfort. And he's still in sadistic Avengers-era mode, so he mocks you for your powerlessness and how your planet succumbed to his will. And obviously, you have to kneel to him a lot. Everyone you interact with on a daily basis (your servants and his, mostly) are sceptered, but you are not.

(In this kind of alternate ending, there would also be questions about Thanos slaughtering half the planet and the remaining infinity stones on Earth, but for the sake of this we're ignoring the lore implications.)

Post Thor: the Dark World Loki: king of Asgard, but in a chill way. Super playful, but also with absolute power. Less sadistic than Alternate Avengers Loki, less sad and dependent than Thor-era King Loki. This Loki is maybe a mischievous stalker type. He just messes with your life to prove he can do it. He doesn't even have to kidnap you, because he's so in control. (Eventually, he will anyway, though, just because it's inconvenient for you to be on Earth while he's on Asgard, and he's tired of using the bifrost. But he'll only transport you to Asgard; you don't have to live in the palace. Screwing with you is more fun when you have some freedom.) He tinkers with every aspect of your life, while you're on Earth. He finds it fun and satisfying, to know that he's left his metaphorical fingerprints on everything.

TVA, series Loki: Too soon to tell, but opens up a lot of possibilities.

[eldritch-bf]

The Blackwater Anomaly: Antagonists From Another Universe

These are the primary antagonists in TBWA! We have to explain some lore and science but the short version is: they are alternate versions of the main characters from a different reality. I have the antagonists, who are generally referred to by their last names, on the left with the main character on the right.

The main characters are all from the same parallel reality, designation: χ-E8036 (χ = Greek letter chi). The formal, more sciencey version of that code is: Cluster Chi, Sector E, Strand 8036. The antagonists are all from different realities.

All humans are within the Chi Cluster, as outside this Cluster are realities where human life never developed. Sectors have significant differences between each other, such as Franz Ferdinand not being assassinated. Sectors A-Z are those where all five of the main characters exist in some iteration, but there are other sectors, designated with the Cyrillic alphabet, where these characters are never born. Strands have moderate to minute alterations, from choosing a different major to turning left instead of right, and are assumed to be infinite, although this has not been entirely proven.

Franz Kauflin: χ-S99

In his reality, Franz picked this name instead of "Rainer", a choice which signifies an abandonment of Judaism. Whereas Rainer is reasonable and calm, Franz is impulsive, vindictive, and temperamental. His youth was very similar to Rainer's, however the major divergence for them is that, while Rainer was heartbroken over his friend choosing his girlfriend over him and now exists in a state of perpetual pining, Franz took a more hands-on approach and strung his friend's girlfriend from the ceiling fan by her intestines.

Franz prides himself on his extensive reality-hopping and systematic slaughter of his alternative selves and the subsequent cannibalization of their corpses, something all reality-jumpers must do if they wish to remain outside their own reality without succumbing to Corrosion, a very painful disintegration of your atoms and slingshotting of them back to your original reality, where they are reassembled.

Side note: Because people only age when within their own reality, and because universes must have every one of its original atoms for time to continue to flow, when a person leaves their reality, time stops, and when they return it immediately begins from the moment they left, and because death in an alternate reality just transports you back to their original reality, it is theoretically possible to be immortal by hopping realities and cannibalizing alternate versions of yourself.

However, there are a few problems with this solution. Franz has a theory on how to achieve immortality: cut the thread linking yourself to your original reality. This would, as best Franz and the others can tell, would destroy your original universe, but when there are infinite ones, what does it really matter if a couple of them are obliterated?

Holly Sansen: χ-L7296

Sansen is much more prone to violence than her counterpart and is cruel, bitter, and sarcastic. She suffered a mental break when she was thirteen and killed her father. Instead of psychology, she pursued surgery, but was more interested in unethical human experiments, which she was able to readily do in other realities where human rights weren't as strict. Eventually she grew bored with humans and continued with alien species. Sansen ultimately got frustrated with repeatedly getting ejected from realities once Corrosion overtook her, and when she met Franz, who said he had a plan to make them immortal, Sansen joined him.

Isaiah Messier: χ-K11

This version is more rude and hardened than his counterpart. Messier participated in an anarcho-communist uprising in his reality which unfortunately failed. His versions of Rainer, Holly, etc. were all killed by the government. Messier spent much of his time reality-hopping, toppling governments, and assisting versions of himself from different realities, before joining up with Franz. Of the five of them, Messier is the most righteous and upstanding. He is clever and particularly keen on doing whatever he can to spread his own ideals of a perfect world to other universes. Once an idealist, he has now become a pragmatist and readily accepts the cost of human life may be extreme in the now if humans are to survive long-term, free of capitalism and government. He carries a large amount of quiet rage inside that only violence seems to quell.

Eva Castellano: χ-J839

Castellano is much more bubbly and hyperactive than her more subdued counterpart. She is sweet, but sweet like antifreeze. Unlike her coutnerpart, who is paralyzed by indecision and unknowing of the future, Castellano is liberated by it and has spent most of her time since discovery the anomaly in her reality jumping from universe to universe being a space marauder, an assassin for hire, and a cult leader. She invents a new version of herself in each new reality she settles down in. She is also hoping to become truly immortal and joined up with Franz.

Pax Hoffield: χ-X460

Much more science-minded than their counterpart. Hoffield devised most of the laws of traveling between realities through systematic experimentation. Unlike Sansen, who is typically actively immoral, being cruel for cruelty's sake, Hoffield is simply neutrally amoral, ignoring any ethical lines without delighting in their trespass. They are interested in science and answers at whatever cost. Hoffield also dedicates a significant amount of time to philosophy and the study of alien religions; they work too much and sleep and eat too little. Hoffield has decided to stop attempting to make themself more relatable to other humans, unlike Pax, who still craves a certain level of acceptance by their peers. Hoffield is certainly happier albeit more isolated.

[sserpente]

As a deposit | Part (1/2)

Synopsis: “Come now, don’t be like that. There must be something else I can appease you with. How about an alternative? A deposit? Be a guest in my house. You’ll get your own room, your own bed and as much beer and ale as you like. Beef, chicken, pork… I can get you everything. You must have appetites like any other man.” Geralt remained silent, making your father clench his fists. “What about a woman?”

With a start, he looked up. You frowned. He would never invite a whore to his home, now would he? He cared too much about his reputation. But to your utter shock and surprise, he suddenly glanced at you. “My daughter is still untouched.”

A/N: Finally! I realised 2000 words in that this will need a Part II at some point but for now… please enjoy my first Geralt of Rivia Imagine! I hope I managed to capture his character, I love how pensive he always seems. Have fun reading and—if you haven’t seen “The Witcher” already, please do so now! Find the Spanish version of this story translated by @along-the-lines-of-space here!

Words: 2537 Warnings: mentions of prostitution and violence, bad parenting

The rumours had been true. He was here. You had heard so many stories about him—terrifying yet breath-taking stories. His appearance… Geralt of Rivia had been described to you as a tall and intimidating man. Some even said he had horns, and claws instead of hands. No one had ever compared him to a Greek God. He was… stunning.

Long blond, no… white hair, muscles which surely could make you feel safe in his embrace, an angular jawline, dark eyebrows… and a pair of piercing, yellow eyes. You gulped. They had not been entirely wrong though. He did look intimidating.

Taking a deep and shaky breath, you gathered all of your courage and stepped closer. He was tending to his horse, a beautiful brown stud. You gaped at it in awe, your sweaty fingers clutching at your cheap dress.

“I’m sorry… are you… you are… you are Geralt, of Rivia.” He peered at you from the corner of his eye.

“I am.” A shiver went through you. His voice was dark, low… menacing.

“I need your help. Please.”

“I don’t have time, I’m just passing through.” He grumbled, eyebrows slightly raised as he fiddled around with one of the battered leather saddlebags, turning his back to you.

“No, wait, please!” Your eyes caught sight of the tavern in front of him. “I’ll buy you a drink!” Vigorously, you rummaged through the pockets of your dress. The old widow living across the bridge at the other end of the forest had given you a coin for helping her digging over her garden for the upcoming season this morning. It would be just enough for one pint of ale.

Geralt’s mouth twisted, a sigh making him halt. For a brief moment, he seemed to contemplate his next words.

“Fine,” he eventually growled. He headed straight towards the tavern, expecting you to follow him without looking back.

-

“My father is devastated. If he loses any more men, he will have to close the mine. They…” You swallowed. “…keep finding new corpses every day. One night he came home drenched in blood, traumatised… whatever monster is in there, it’s savage and it’s bloodthirsty.” You shivered only thinking about the horrors unfolding inside the mine. And of course, there was a fear residing deep within you that eventually, it would grow tired of the cave and slaughter the entire village… but that was not why you had asked Geralt of Rivia for his help.

Your father was a cruel man who despised you deeply for your mere existence. Unlike his other daughter, your half-sister, you were not of his blood—and when your mother died, it had been her last wish for him to care for you as much as he would care for his own flesh and blood. You had long been of age now—and he had already threatened to sell you off to the nearest brothel if he truly had to close down the mine.

“So you want me to kill the monster in the mine.” Geralt concluded, his big hands playing with the bulbous jug. You nodded sheepishly.

“Please… I’ll take you to my father’s. He can tell you a lot more about it than I can.” Licking his lips, his gaze drifted away for a moment, almost as if the entire situation displeased him. It was a moment you wished to look inside his head to find out what it really was he was thinking. When his captivating yellow eyes met yours again, your heart jumped involuntarily.

“Take me to your father then.” With one last big sip, he emptied his ale. Upon his question of why you had not gotten anything to drink for yourself, you had simply claimed you were not thirsty.

-

“Father? Father, I’m back! Father—“

He stepped in sight mere seconds after, eyeing the Witcher behind you suspiciously. Hideous man, Geralt thought. Full of spite, hatred, self-righteousness and selfishness. Nothing like… you.

“Have you lost your mind now?” He snapped. “Bringing strange men into my home?!” Geralt crossed his arms before his broad chest behind you, observing your father with a scrutinising gaze—like no movement would escape him.

“No! Father, this is—“ You were cut off by a sharp slap on your cheek, your head forced aside as a stinging and burning pain spread on the left half of your face. You gasped. But it was not the first time he cuffed you for your alleged disobedience.

“F-Father, it’s not what you think. This is…”

“Geralt of Rivia,” he interrupted you with a powerful voice—it seemed to echo through the entire room, shrinking it down to make him look like a giant. “Your daughter begged me to help you with your monster. In the mines.”

Your father’s watery eyes widened.

“You? You’re the… Witcher?” He swallowed, pausing for a moment. With a start, his entire demeanour changed, a feigned politeness and hospitality supporting a fake and eerie smile. “I’ve heard tales about you… songs… Come on in then… you must have had a long journey. I have food and drinks.”

Geralt replied nothing as he followed your father into the kitchen were your half-sister was already waiting, at the served table. It was dinner time already. Bread, meat and cheese had been spread on it, along with some beer from the brewery whose owner your father had befriended, inviting you to sit down and dig in.

Your half-sister’s eyes widened when she spotted Geralt enter, hands folded in her lap intimidated.

“Please sit. Eat with me—I’ll tell you all about my misery.” The Witcher hesitated but sat down at the table regardless. You joined him only reluctantly. Suddenly, you wanted to be as far away from this awkward and stifling situation as possible. Had it been a good idea after all, to ask such a dangerous man for help?

“So tell me, Geralt. Are all those tales about you true?” Your father began, pouring himself some beer and biting into a piece of meat. The crunchy sound made you shiver rather than your mouth water.

“Some of them are… others are not.” He responded dryly. One piece of meat was all he took to eat.

“I hope you’re the man for the job then.”

He hummed. “If the payment is right.”

“How much?”

“Three-hundred.”

Your father snorted. “A proud price for someone who remains a mystery even with his feet under my table. But be that as it might. My daughter already told you that ugly monster made itself comfortable in my mine. I keep losing my men. You’ll get the money as soon as we can start harvesting coal again. Should be a few days at most.” He suggested carelessly.

“I can’t wait that long,” Geralt grumbled fast, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He clearly felt as uncomfortable in this house as you did. “You either pay me when the job is done or you find yourself another Witcher. Good luck with that.” He concluded, a hint of sarcasm playing in his dark voice.

He clearly didn’t like your father—and you could not blame him. He was a despicable man. Mutely, you kept listening to the tense conversation, hope drifting away from you with every word spoken.

“Come now, don’t be like that. There must be something else I can appease you with. How about an alternative? A deposit? Be a guest in my house. You’ll get your own room, your own bed and as much beer and ale as you like. Beef, chicken, pork… I can get you everything. You must have appetites like any other man.” Geralt remained silent, making your father clench his fists. “What about a woman?”

With a start, he looked up. You frowned. He would never invite a whore to his home, now would he? He cared too much about his reputation. But to your utter shock and surprise, he suddenly glanced at you. “My daughter is still untouched.”

No… You had brought the White Wolf to your father to save yourself from prostitution, not run straight towards it and receive it with open arms.

“Do we have a deal?” Geralt gave your father a dark look.

He couldn’t possibly agree to this. You had heard so much about him but… but you knew he respected women and their strength, didn’t he? He wouldn’t…

“Fine. Three days.” Your heart skipped a beat.

-

Your father didn’t have a spare room. Instead, he had offered Geralt yours—since you would be sharing a bed with him tonight anyway. You had been shivering ever since, excused yourself from the table and given in to your tears and terror in the small bathroom in the house.

You did not want to lose your virginity to a man you could barely trust, regardless of how attractive he was. Should you run? Where to? Your father knew the whole village. If he didn’t catch you and brought you back… then wat if the brothel owner did? And if you stayed… who said your father wouldn’t just keep selling your body to strange men after Geralt had left for good anyways?

You considered the alternative—homeless, cold, starving, begging and hiding from the man who was supposed to protect and raise you.

With your heart in your mouth, you entered your bedroom about an hour later, when the voices in the kitchen had finally ceased. Would he be upset if you slept in your dress? Naked skin against naked skin… it felt too intimate. You wanted—if you were going to do this—preserve at least some sort of dignity and privacy, some sort of distance from him.

Geralt was already in your room. He had taken off his black shirt, leaving him naked from the waist up. You blinked, unable to stop yourself from admiring the many muscles and scars on his body, along with that fascinating silver necklace—the Witcher necklace.

Your eyes met—yet he did not say a word.

You were not ready to do this… With a shaky breath aiming keep yourself from fainting, you climbed in bed, fingers clutching at the soft bed sheets. Then, having closed your eyes for a moment to gather your remaining strength, you nodded at him.

Geralt approached the bed so slowly you tensed up, swallowing thickly; when the mattress sank, so did your pounding heart.

He did not look like someone who would be gentle in bed… or would he? Still trembling, you reached for your skirts. It was only then Geralt finally spoke again and much to your surprise, his voice had grown… mellow.

“No. Stop.” Taken aback you froze, looking up at him insecurely.

“I don’t rape women.” He explained seriously. “And you’re not doing this of your own free will.” He was perceptive—incredibly so, probably had to be as a Witcher. Most men would not have cared, even if they had noticed.

Geralt lied down when you responded nothing, only gazed down sadly at your hands in your lap as relief crushed over your body like a tidal wave. He didn’t want to ravish you tonight…

His body felt so warm next to yours, made you feel so secure. Just as if, with Geralt by your side, you were actually safe. Protected.

“My father… he’ll think we, um…” You paused.

“Don’t worry about him. I’m leaving town tomorrow.”

“W-what?” Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? You… you won’t help us?”

“No,” he growled quietly.

“But… I thought… is it because my father can’t pay you? Please, he will. He might not be a very decent man but he never breaks his promises.” If anything to uphold his reputation. “He will pay you.”

“It’s not that. The monster your father described to me is not a monster.” You frowned. “It speaks, it’s intelligent. It lives in the mines and your father and his men are carving out the entire cave for coal. He’s defending his territory.”

“But he’s still killing people! Innocent people! What if he gets angry, what if he leaves the mine and wreaks havoc in our village?”

Geralt sighed, his bare chest heaving as he turned in bed to face the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Geralt, please… at least… at least go talk to it… he… whatever it is. You must have dealt with… creatures like this before. Please…”

You were shivering again—not just from the usual chilliness in this room, but also from the growing fear returning to your body, clawing at your guts. Finally, the Witcher opened his yellow eyes again, his forehead decorating an almost disturbed frown.

“Why are you so keen on helping your father? He obviously treats you like shit.” He spat. You flinched.

“He’s… he’s not my real father. He is… was my mother’s new husband, before she passed. My half-sister is his only child.”

“Then why are you helping him? Are you afraid you’ll continue to live in poverty?” You snorted. If only that was the case.

“No. He… last week he suggested to sell me off to a brothel for a ‘nice sum’ to make up for his growing losses with the mine. He knows the bordello owner, he’d… he’d be very interested in having me.”

Geralt breathed in audibly. Your eyes locked.

“And now he offered you to me.” He concluded. You nodded sadly, your trembling intensifying. With a shaky breath, you buried yourself under your covers. Geralt was right. Your situation was pretty hopeless. Swallowing, you turned your back to him, biting back the stinging tears forming in your eyes.

Your shaking did not cease—not until you suddenly felt his strong arms around you, his muscly chest pressing against your back. His bare skin on yours seemed to be singeing yours wherever it made contact with your body.

“Thank you…” You whispered, another wave of security and comfort washing over you, making you tired. If he wasn’t going to help you… you would at least accept his offer to keep you warm for the night.

And then the last thing racing through your mind before you fell asleep was that maybe—just maybe, having Geralt of Rivia take your innocence might not have been so bad after all.

-

When you woke up the next morning, Geralt was gone. Blinking right into the rising sun fighting its way through your curtains, you sat up, looking around your sparsely decorated room without expecting to find him.

Your sister was staring at you curiously by the time you entered the kitchen. When did not respond to her gaze, she beamed at you.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“How was it? I heard it hurts the first time. How did it feel? Did you bleed? He’s a Witcher, I doubt he was very gentle with you.” You remained silent. Before she could urge you on to reply to her, your father joined you at the breakfast table.

“Where is Geralt?” You asked instead, even though you feared you already knew the answer. Surely that was why his response caught you off guard.

“Well, where do you think?” He snorted. “He left for the mines before sunrise. Slaying that fucking monster killing my men.”

 -

A/N: Cliffhanger. I know. No, I’m not sorry. *giggles* I hope you enjoyed that! Let me know what you think! Part II can be found here!

Also, check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Peace Talks, Pt. 1 (3/5/2021)

Alastor #1 (@usedhearts) contacts Alastor #2 (hi there) to ask #2 about why he intervened in #1’s fight with Sir Pentious (who #2 happens to be dating secretly). They meet up to discuss the fight, why that Alastor & Pent hate each other, and potentially how to reduce hostilities between them so these fights don’t keep happening.

(Part 2 where my Alastor goes and gets Sir Pentious’s side is here.)

usedhearts

🩸Alastor, I think we need to have a chat.

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 What luck, I've been telling myself the same thing for a couple of weeks! Let's do lunch. I know a very discreet little café that loves to leave me alone and would be twice as happy to do so with two of us there.

usedhearts

🩸Send me the address, I'll meet you there.

dontasktheradiodemon

[Sends an address, as well as a picture of a map with the location circled in sharpie.]

usedhearts

🩸See you soon.

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I'll be waiting!

–––

dontasktheradiodemon

The café was an ugly place, in Alastor's opinion—concrete floors and walls, black-painted wooden booths, naked bulbs hanging from simple pipes—but attempting to look like abandoned warehouses was the fashion of cutting-edge restaurants these days, wasn't it? And anyway the coffee was decent and the employees didn't run out the back door when Alastor showed up, so it would do. He got a cup of coffee and some ridiculous fancy toast, claimed a booth, and waited.

usedhearts

He didn't have to wait long-- but a few minutes later and Leclerq was  walking in as well, receiving more than a few double takes. He'd swapped his glasses back for his monocle, and his coat was on-- the only thing differentiating him from his alternate his slight longer, wavy hair. Leclerq's smile turned a bit mischievous as the staff looked between him and Alastor, trying to be sure they weren't seeing double. He made his way over to the table and sat, ordering a cup of the strongest they had, black, from a passing staff person.

"So, my dear self, how's things?" He asked, looking at his gloves nails, feigning nonchalance.

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor smiled innocently at the staff's baffled glances. What, never seen two radios at once?

He beamed a little more brightly at his alternate—although there was wariness underneath it. He knew full well what this was about; what he didn't know yet was how, exactly, his alternate had taken it, or how bad the consequences were going to be.

"All going well! I can't complain." Walking on cloud nine and head a little foggy, in fact, but he was sure his alternate didn't want to know the details and even more sure he didn't want to share them. "And how about you—doing well, I hope?" With a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, "Recovered from those snake bites, I hope?" No point beating around the bush for *too* long.

usedhearts

The beaming grin was normal for Alastors in general, but considering the reason they were there, seeing his alternate looking at _him_ like that was a bit...strange. Leclerq  crossed his legs, and took a sip of the coffee set in front of him as soon as it arrived.

"Yes, recovered. Only took me a day to get back into working order. I suppose Pentell is doing fine now, considering he posted about his successful shed." He took a breath, smile firm as he folded his hands in his lap.

"Why did you interfere? You could've let someone else stop us. Charlie could've taken care of it herself, even, if she hadn't been panicking. Why not talk her down and get her to do it, instead of showing up yourself? And so _quickly_, too. We'd hardly even maimed each other by the time you showed up." Leclerq's eyes narrowed a fraction. "I simply must know why go through all that trouble? Explain it to me."

dontasktheradiodemon

“Glad to hear it!” He didn’t respond directly to the comment about the shed, only offering a vague shrug as if he wouldn’t know. He didn’t even flinch at the revelation that his alternate knew Sir Pentious’s real name... although he was certainly going to ask Telly about it later.

And his alternate had given him room to wiggle around with his answer. How very polite. They’d dance around it a bit. “*If she hadn’t been panicking.*” He scoffed. “That’s quite a big ‘if,’ isn’t it! Sure, I could have wasted three minutes of my time talking her down, and then twiddled my thumbs while waiting to see what she’d do—waste even more time trying to talk down the both of you? Join the fight herself and cause even more property damage? Or, I could resolve the whole thing with no further trouble in a mere fifteen seconds.”

usedhearts

Leclerq leaned in, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. His head tilted at an odd angle and he picked up his coffee and took a drink.

"Yes, that's probably how it would've gone. But why stop it in the first place? Not like either of us can actually kill the other. Surely you weren't worried about _me_. If it had been me, I would've shown up with popcorn and a lawn chair. Fights between demons are free entertainment after all."

He sat back, arms crossing over his chest. "So, I'll ask again. _Why_ did you interfere?"

dontasktheradiodemon

“I have a question for *you* first.” He sat forward, lacing his hands under his chin, fixing his alternate with a keen, genuinely curious look. “It’s relevant, I assure you—but why fight him at all? It can’t be because he’s a challenging opponent—without his tin cans, there’s nothing stopping you from tying him in knots. And I don’t know about *your* policies, but *I* don’t tend to attack the physically weak unless I’m starving and don’t think a total stranger will miss a few pounds of meat—*or,* they’ve done something so outrageously offensive as to earn it. Now, he’s clearly no stranger, so the first explanation doesn’t apply—but for the life of me I can’t imagine *what* he could have done to warrant that kind of response? Or what *you* did to make *him* attack first, if that’s how it happened—but that seems even less likely to me, I can’t see him picking a fight without a dozen lasers at the ready.”

usedhearts

"He _does_ start it sometimes," Leclerq said, immediately. His smile twitched and his eyes narrowed again, before he gave a small huff and looked away.

"I suppose I knew it would come to this eventually, what with the both of us making friends in the same circles." He moved his monocle, taking it off to clean the lens, or so it seemed. "We used to be friends. When I first dropped in, he was an Overlord, and my massacre helped him gain some more ground, inadvertently. I started getting invited to all the big Overlord parties, and I went because I was still new to Hell and all. We met and hit it off, became friends and whatnot. About a decade later, we hardly spoke, and then V[BEEP]x dropped in and started his rise to power. Pentell was already washed up by that point, desperate, so he..."

Leclerq sighed and shook his head, putting his monocle back on, his smile turning wane. "He helped V[BEEP]x secretly convert some of the old radio stations to broadcast tv instead-- I don't know if it's the same for you, but for me, it felt like someone was tearing out pieces of my soul and roasting them with ten thousand volts. I don't know why or what V[BEEP]x promised him, but obviously he never got it, considering his standing hasn't changed since then."

Leclerq shrugged, feigning nonchalance again. "That's why I hate him."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up. “And a fair reason to hate him!” He himself didn’t hold any radio stations—had *never* held any—but just *imagining* stations slaughtered like sacrificial animals on the altar of network television made his heart squeeze in pain.

That long ago, stations had often broadcasted both radio and TV simultaneously. Hell, well into the seventies Alastor had considered a smattering of TV stations under his own protection because they shared a roof with a radio station. For the stations to be converted to broadcast TV in a way that *killed* their potential to broadcast radio—that wasn’t just the new guy in Hell wanting to increase his own power; that was a deliberate effort to decrease the Radio Demon’s. That was far worse than simply trying to get in good with two different overlords and accidentally screwing over one in the process.

“You said you hardly spoke—had you had some falling out...? Not that it’s any sort of mitigating factor, not for an action on *that* scale, but—well, nothing of the sort ever happened *here,* so I’m simply trying to understand the narrative! The treachery is self-evident, but depending on if it was motivated by hot vengeance or cold ambition... well, it certainly changes the *flavor* of the treachery, doesn’t it?”

usedhearts

He hadn't expected sympathy, or understanding, but then again, this was himself. If anyone would understand his pain, it was another version of himself. Leclerq felt himself relax, at least fractionally, and he picked up his cup for another sip of coffee.

"Yes, there was. Around, oh, '45 or so, Pentell was gearing up for a big push to conquer more territory-- he had a whole plan and everything, you know how he is, prepared every meticulous detail. _I_ was one of those details, of course. He was counting on my support when he set things into motion and I....well, I didn't show." He shrugged a bit, taking another sip.

"I'd gotten bored of waiting, I was still relatively new to Hell, and a decade still seemed like a long time-- especially for one such as us, you know how it is, don't you?-- and so I'd picked up some other hobbies, started doing other things. And I just didn't want to help anymore. I was _bored_, I never wanted to conquer Hell! But Pentell had been banking on my power backing him, and when I didn't arrive, well...."

His smile twisted a bit before he sighed. "It all sort of blew up in his face. He lost almost all of his territory and his Overlord title was stripped-- he became a laughing stock overnight. So, I suppose I betrayed him first, but this IS Hell. Who can you trust in Hell, except yourself?" His smile twitched into something wry for a moment as he met his alternate's eyes, then looked away.

dontasktheradiodemon

And his eyebrows twitched higher. He’d gotten *bored*? Bored of Sir Pentious, of all people? How in the world was that possible? How does one get *bored* of having a front-row seat to the greatest drama in Hell since whatever the hell happened in *Paradise Lost*?

Would he himself have left as quickly and carelessly if he’d gotten bored? Even if he couldn’t understand how *that person* in *particular* had bored his alternate—yes, if he *did* get bored of someone, he’d leave like that. Would he himself have stayed long enough to get as enthralled as he did if he’d met Sir Pentious in, what, the ‘30s, rather than in ‘51? He didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d have lost interest, but he didn’t know. Learning to exist in Hell had been a process. Maybe those eighteen years had made a difference.

“Well! If I were him, I’d want to hit you where it hurts too!” He laughed wryly. “And if I were *you*, I’d never forgive him for it, either.”

usedhearts

Leclerq took drained his coffee the rest of the way, holding his cup out for a refill-- which a staff member came over to give him as quickly as demonly possible. He set the new cup on the table, holding it between his hands.

"Yes, so, as you can see neither of us can forgive the other, and now we're expecting to exist near one another more regularly and tempers flare at the slightest provocation, etcetera, etcertera." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his smile tight and close lipped.

"I know that many of you are now mutual friends with the both of us, and I've been trying to be on my best behavior when at the Hotel, as we've a truce there, but the old resentments bubble up and we go at it. Generally, it's me blowing up his ship but since we've been seeing one another in person, it's just gotten to basic brawls." A small growl slipped out and he clenched his hand, cracking the cup and spilling hot coffee all over, though he didn't seem to care.

"I should have better control, but with him I just-- I see red--" A snort. "Or more red than usual at least-- and then we're tumbling around like feral animals."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor watched without a twitch of his expression as his alternate’s cup cracked. Yes, he certainly could comprehend the anger.

But when he tried to imagine the anger behind that shattering grip turned on Telly—his blood boiled.

“Yes, well. That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

usedhearts

Leclerq grabbed some napkins, wiping off his gloved hand and sitting back, watching the coffee spread across the table. He put some more napkins between him and the coffee puddle-- no use letting it get on him-- and sighed.

"That's the problem, yes." He looked over at him and arched a brow. "And you still haven't answered my question-- why did you intervene?"

dontasktheradiodemon

His smile tightened. “Well, like you said—quite a few people are mutual friends with the both of you now! And while it’s an utter delight to watch *strangers* fight, there’s nothing pleasant about it when it involves friends! Particularly if one friend is at risk of being reduced to bone toothpicks and flesh confetti. And that’s even *more* the case when, from my perspective, the fight simply came out of nowhere! Who knows what will happen in a fight like that?” He shrugged broadly. “Now, typically if a friend’s in a fight, I’m happy to lend a hand—but it’s tricky if I’m on good terms with both combatants. The best thing I can do then is ensure they’re separated.”

usedhearts

Leclerq hummed, the noise droning in his static, his arms crossing again. His finger began to tap against his upper arm, and his foot tapped again-- fidgeting tics that were showing themselves in his alternate's presence.

"I suppose you're right. Fine, I accept that explanation." His cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "But I don't know how Pentell and I are going to co-exist when we're at each others' throats. The Hotel's been a test run and we've had at least three fights since he started making repairs and renovations there. Any bright ideas in that big bulb of yours?"

dontasktheradiodemon

*Three fights.* He tilted his head as he thought. “No, not yet.” Maybe he could persuade Telly to stop helping with the hotel upkeep. There were so many more important things he could be spending that time and effort on, anyway. Sure, Alastor was at the hotel, but only because he *wanted* to watch a train wreck happen in action—but there was no reason for Sir Pentious to waste his time tightening the bolts on the locomotive engine when it was chugging toward a fiery crash. “But I’m sure we both agree that this can’t keep happening, don’t we?”

usedhearts

"Yes, I agree. Especially if people are going to get in the middle now-- I can't even think if it was Valera next time, while she's, well..." He motioned with his hands to pantomime a pregnant belly. "I don't want her trying to get between us while we go at it-- we're both vicious in the moment."

His foot tapped a little faster and he huffed. "Perhaps I can just avoid him for now...and I'll try to doubly make sure I have a tight leash on myself if he is around. And perhaps you could talk to him, you two are chummy now, aren't you? We just need to learn to....keep our heads better."

dontasktheradiodemon

Oh right, this alternate had been getting chummy with Valera, hadn’t he? About every alternate but himself was. Just his rotten luck, wasn’t it.

“If you haven’t *already* been trying to avoid him, yes, I recommend it.” He scooted his unfinished coffee over to his alternate. Here, you look anxious, have a little more caffeine and calm down. “No promises, I haven’t the foggiest idea what he’s going to say about *you*—but I’ll see what I can do.”

usedhearts

He took the cup gratefully and downed it, taking a breath after. "Probably something along the lines of--" His own voice cut out and then, in a perfect imitation of Sir Pentious's voice, he said. "HE DESSSERVED IT!"

Leclerq snorted and his own voice was back when he spoke again. "I may have cast the first stone, but teaming up with V[beep]x is just.....scummy."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor huffed. “Not to defend the unforgivable—but ol’ blockhead had only just died, hadn’t he? In my neck of the woods, it took until the seventies before he started showing his true colors. Taking down stations, sure, Sir Pentious should have known better—but doing it with *him*? There was no way to know what kinds of things he’d do *before* he started doing them.”

And who knew what promises Vox might have made? No doubt the sort of promises he made to every business and network he added to his growing mega-corporation. Fame, wealth, power, a treasured and valued position in his inner circle.

Alastor thought he was beginning to detect a pattern, here. Pentell, lonely and unappreciated; and then one man after another, charismatic and compelling, telling Pentell how much they adored his brilliant inventions; each of them using him—for sex, for entertainment, for power—before losing interest and casting him aside.

It was only when he heard something crack that he realized he’d started squeezing one of his fists in the other like a stress ball. He stretched his fingers and surreptitiously repaired the damage. But in his head, over and over, all he could hear were the words *how dare—how dare—how dare—*

usedhearts

"Yes, he had, and he's a cunning rat even moreso than that boyfriend of his." Leclerq sneered at the thought of the VVVs, and held the empty coffee cup, just to have something to hold on to. "Though he started being really ruthless once he found Valentino-- that was in the 80s here, I'm not sure when it happened for you. They really bring out the worst in each other, and not in the fun way."

His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the crack, looking down at his alternate's hands. "You alright there?" He asked, a little quieter than before.

dontasktheradiodemon

“About the same time, late seventies or early eighties. I wasn’t paying attention to celebrity gossip at the time. All I know is they’d made it into the toxic end of things by the mid-eighties.”

He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers, all fine. “So sorry, I know, knuckle-cracking, nasty habit to get into. Mother would be scolding me.”

usedhearts

"I only know because I was friends with Madame by that point and Valentino started out as one of her's." He tapped his fingers against the cup, still fidgety despite the caffeine.

"Well, since we hashed that out, is that it? Or did you want to brainstorm ways to get me and Pentell able to coexist in the same space without biting each other's heads off?"

dontasktheradiodemon

And Alastor only knew because he’d witnessed the results of their toxic sides up close and in person. He decided to keep that to himself. As much as he hated Vox, that wasn’t his dirt to dish.

“I’m not sure what there is to brainstorm,” Alastor said wryly. “If you’re in the same space, don’t be; if you have to be, don’t interact. If you haven’t been doing even *that* much before, I’d say that’s a good starting point, don’t you?”

usedhearts

"We have, since we made the truce, at least when inside the Hotel. But the second one of us steps outside, it's on." He leaned back in his seat a bit.

"We never made an official deal for our truce, but I gave my word, and I keep it, to the letter. We never fight inside the Hotel now-- we take it outside. Though the lawn isn't much better. I suppose I can try to keep the truce up outside the Hotel. If I think about it like that, perhaps it'll be easier to keep myself in check..."

dontasktheradiodemon

He fights a grimace. “Well. ‘Do what you’re already doing, except even more so, and hope sheer willpower makes up the difference’ doesn’t exactly sound to me like a winning strategy. Especially when what you’re already doing has resulted in three fights.”

usedhearts

"I'm not sure what other options we have, at least for now. Avoidance and sheer willpower will have to do for the time being." He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Talk to Pentell, I'm sure he's got insight from his side of things for you. Perhaps there's...something that can be done, to at least make things less hostile between us. You can tell him I'd be open to negotiations-- for the sake of our mutual friends. But for now, I think I need to go-- I need to kill something."

He stood, dusting off his jacket. "Is there anything else, my dear other?"

dontasktheradiodemon

He stood as well. “Yes, one thing—who’s going to pick up the bill?” Studio laughter. “Hah! No, nothing I can think of. Just try not to start any more brawls. I don’t want to make a hobby out of refereeing.”

usedhearts

"That'd be terrible! You'd look horrendous in horizontal stripes!" His own studio kicked in with their laughs, and Leclerq reached a hand to pat his alternate's shoulder.

"Speak again, soon, my dear me! So long!" And with that he faded into the shadows.

dontasktheradiodemon

He offered his other a half-bow in farewell—and then headed for the exit the more conventional way. Seemed like he needed to go have another conversation.

[razieltwelve]

The Babysitter (RWBY AU Snippet)

“I’m amazed that you’re okay with this.” Death shifted slightly as the toddler in her arms tried to poke her in the eye. It wouldn’t have done any damage to her, but the toddler would definitely have injured her finger thanks to her divine durability. “Most people wouldn’t be comfortable having Death babysit their children.”

“Most people aren’t an alternate universe version of Death,” Ruby replied. “Besides, it was either you or Crescent Rose.”

“Ah.” Death nodded sagely. “I can see why you asked me to do it then.”

“Look,” Ruby said. “I love my dragon. Don’t get me wrong. Crescent Rose is fantastic. I would totally die for her, and she would totally die for me. In fact, that’s how you and I met, isn’t it? But let’s be honest. She’s not exactly mature. If I left her to watch Luna, I’d come back to find the house on fire with Crescent Rose and Luna cackling about how quickly it’s burning.”

Outside, the red dragon snickered. She wasn’t offended. If anything, she thought Ruby was understating how bad a babysitter she would make. It was better to leave the babysitting to Gambol Shroud or Ember Celica. The shadow dragon was incredibly lazy, but she had a knack for keeping kids amused and out of trouble while the solar dragon was just fantastic with kids.

“True.” Death smiled as Luna began to rummage through her pockets for a cookie. The girl looked so much like Weiss except for the silver eyes she’d inherited from Ruby. “But you’re not the least bit worried about her being around me?”

“Is she going to die if I leave her with you?” Ruby asked bluntly. “Because you’d know, right?”

“I would.” Death grinned. “And you can rest assured that she is completely safe with me. Her time will not be for many years yet... but that’s assuming she acts sensibly. If she starts throwing herself off cliffs and in front of rampaging dragons, well, I’ll be showing up for her sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll tell her that once she’s old enough to understand.” Ruby tilted her head to one side. “Out of interest, don’t you normally have a dog with you?”

“You mean Zwei?” Luna giggled in delight as she mysteriously found a cookie in one of Death’s pockets. Ah, the wonders of nigh-limitless divine might. “He’s currently enjoying Zwei Day on one of the worlds he helped save.”

“Zwei Day?” Ruby raised one eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

“He may have slaughtered an invading army of demons by barking at them, so every year they like to throw a celebration in his honour. It’s the hundredth one this year, so he decided to actually show up. He’ll let them spoil him rotten for a few days before he heads home. In the meantime, Drei will be helping me.”

At the mention of his name, an adorable three-headed corgi appeared.

“Okay...” Ruby leaned forward as Drei nudged her leg and then began to chew on her shoe. “I kind of expected something more menacing.”

“Oh, Drei can get way scarier. In fact, other than me, he’s probably the most powerful thing in this world at the moment. However, he’s still very young, so he usually doesn’t transform unless he has to since he kind of, well, breaks everything.” Death moved forward to poke Drei with her foot. “Come on, Drei, no chewing on Ruby’s shoe.”

The three-headed corgi huffed and then trotted over to the couch before jumping onto it and moving around a bit before finally settling. 

“That’s his spot now,” Death explained. “Whenever he shows up, you can expect him to sit there.”

“Is he going to show up a lot?” Ruby asked. Weiss was still getting ready for their night out. If she knew the other woman, it was probably Myrtenaster’s fault. Weiss was already very picky about how she dressed, and consulting with the frost dragon typically made it worse since they were both perfectionists. It was one of the reason Ruby loved Crescent Rose. Her dragon’s approach to fashion was simple: anything that stopped Ruby from dying from exposure was okay since human skin sucked compared to dragon scales.

“He’ll be in and out,” Death replied. “There are a lot of little anomalies in this world, so it might be good to have a Divine Beast poking around in case there’s anything untoward going on. If there’s anything he can’t handle, he’ll tell Zwei. And, really, if there’s anything that Zwei can’t handle here, you’re in real trouble... but don’t worry because I can handle it.”

“And if you can’t handle it?”

“Ruby, I’m Death. If there’s a problem I can’t handle, then all of Creation is probably screwed.”

“Good point.” Ruby turned as she heard Weiss emerge from their room. “You look awesome, Weiss!”

The other woman did indeed look awesome. Like most dragon riders, she usually favoured practical clothing - flying in a skirt was a rookie mistake - but there was still a vast difference between combat clothing and the sort of clothing designed for aesthetic purposes. Weiss’s form-hugging trousers, finely-fitted blouse, and shimmering, dragon-scale mantle were all designed to catch and hold the eye. The mantle in particular was striking. It had been woven from scales Myrtenaster had shed, which meant it was the same colour as polar ice, a white so intense it made the blue of Weiss’s eyes look like cerulean flame. Ruby had grown up hearing legends about the snow maidens that haunted the high peaks were only dragons dared to go. They were supposed to ensorcel climbers and travellers with their beauty.

Weiss was her snow maiden, and Ruby was most definitely ensorcelled.

“Are you two done chatting?” Weiss said. “We’re going to be late.”

“I recall Ruby being ready almost half an hour ago,” Death replied with a grin, ignoring the crumbs that Luna was leaving on her cloak as she munched on her cookie. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Weiss replied archly.

“I’m sure that was it,” Ruby said. She took Weiss’s hand. “Shall we, milady?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Oh, good grief.” She sketched a curtsy. “Very well, Your Highness.”

“Technically, you’re the princess,” Ruby pointed out. “Whereas I am but a mere commoner.”

Weiss snorted inelegantly. “Ruby, you’re a dragon rider. You’re nobility by default. And let’s not forget the whole war hero, living legend, and Slayer of Fell Beasts thing that you’ve got going on.”

“To be fair, Crescent Rose did most of the slaying. I was mostly along for the rider for that one.”

“Ruby you jumped off your dragon and stabbed a demonic beast the size of a whale in the eye while Crescent Rose was grappling with it in mid-air. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall to your death, and you more than did your part.”

“Yeah... I guess I am pretty awesome.” Ruby nodded at Death. “We should be back before midnight. If not...”

“Then I will assume you two have found a nice, quiet spot to enjoy each other.” Death chuckled. “Fear not, your child is safe with me.”

X    X     X

Death bit back a grin at the horrified face Luna made as she ate her vegetables. The toddler was acting like she was being fed poison as she cringed and slowly but surely finished her meal. 

“You know,” Death said. “I asked the other gods if we could change Creation so cookies were healthy, but I got outvoted.”

Luna made a disgusted sound but continued to eat her vegetables.

“But since you’ve done such a good job of eating your vegetables, I’ll have a surprise ready for you when you’re done with the rest of them.”

X    X     X

Luna’s eyes widened as she took in the giant cookies floating around in the sky.

“Behold,” Death said. “The cookie dimension... which only two worlds over from the mango puree dimension.” She pulled Luna closer to whisper into her ear. “Just don’t tell your mommy about this place. Otherwise, she’ll never stop bugging me until I take her here.” She pointed. “We can start with that one. It’s chocolate chip.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Are you worried about the safety of your children? Why not have an alternate universe version of yourself with essentially limitless power watch them for you? Sure, you’ll have to put up with the occasional Divine Beast sleeping on your couch, but you couldn’t ask for a safer, more reliable babysitter than Death herself. The Ruby’s in this story are DragonRider!Ruby and Death!Ruby.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as three audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems, Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire, and The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company.  If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out!

[jewishzevran]

look upon the Light so you may lead others here through the darkness

After the Herald of Andraste has some choice words for him, Cullen and Leliana have a talk about faith. [ao3]

A/N: I originally published a different version of this, which was less specific to my canon and took place in Leliana’s quarters. I have deleted it, but kept the title of the piece for the update. I like this version a lot better.

The Herald frowned at Cullen, and spoke with a tone that he couldn't quite place. "But... the Templars have served the Chantry for ages.”

“And in that time, they’ve come to take the Order’s services for granted–" Before he could continue, the Herald made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, before turning and walking away. 

"Wait where are you going? What's the matter?"  

She wheeled on him. "Seriously? After everything, that's your reason for leaving?"

"You're a Dalish elf, what do you know of the chantry?"

The Herald blinked, and her mouth curled into a snarl as her hands balled into shaky fists. She crossed back to Cullen and stood inches from him, her anger letting her tower over him despite her stature.

"How dare you. Are you so selfish and blind that you don't think it affects us? You think we were all born out of holes in the ground completely isolated? I grew up in Kirkwall. I know plenty of the Chantry, and their supposed peacekeepers. What do I know of the Chantry? What do you know of peace? You wield fear and cruelty like a slavemaster cracks a whip and expect your charges to survive unscathed? If you cage a dog and beat it for years how can you be surprised when it bites? And your "harrowings?" You take young mages, barely old enough to be adults and send them into the Fade with no warning, no training, no advice and expect them to fight demons? If they fail, you kill them, without so much as blinking. Do you write letters of condolences to their families? Do you even remember their names? And if you decide that one of them isn’t fit for the trial, you hold them down and forcibly remove their emotions! Have you not once considered how abhorrent the idea of a tranquil actually is? How egregious threatening people with psychological torture is? And don’t even try to justify it with “it’s for their own good”, whose good? I've heard stories that some poor families promise their children to the Order from BIRTH. Preying on poor and vulnerable families so their children can be groomed to hate an entire subset of the population? Discouraging circle mages from having relationships in case they have mage children? Any children born regardless are ripped from their mothers and given to a chantry orphanage to raise and then recruit as Templars. The most frequent cause of death in circles is suicide, did you know that? Do you care? I had friends in Kirkwall that were raped and beaten, and it doesn’t matter that you didn’t personally participate, you were silent while others systematically abused their charges. The Chantry doesn’t make peacekeepers or protectors. It makes soldiers. You say Anders started a war, but you never even thought about the alternatives. It wasn’t ‘start a war or maintain peace’ it was ‘rebel or spend a lifetime in slavery and enduring abuse at the hands of our oppressors’!  And you would kiss their feet in servitude."

She stalked off, then turned round, stalked back and punched him square in the jaw, with a resounding crunch. The force of the blow sent him staggering back several paces. 

"What do I know of the Chantry, shemlen? I know they massacred my entire people in the name of your God. Andraste spit on your skills being taken for granted. You want to be part of the Inquisition? To work side by side with mages? You need to do a lot of fucking soul searching about why you're really here, Commander Rutherford."

The Herald was crying as she walked away, wiping angry tears from her eyes.  Cullen was left standing dumbstruck. He spent several minutes quietly fuming. 

Maker, she can throw a punch.

His jaw was going to bruise and he could feel it. Then he started thinking about what she said and every angry word attached itself to a memory. He headed to the training grounds. Sword drills would hopefully clear his thoughts.

What do you know of peace?

He thought back to Kinloch. To the words he spoke to Nina Cousland. He begged her to slaughter anyone she saw in case they were possessed.

He thought about psychological torture and the screams and pleas of mages undergoing the Rite of Tranquility being abruptly cut off as that blankness took over their faces. 

He thought about his lessons as a boy, the pride in his teachers' voices as they spoke of the glory of the Exalted Marches and never used words like "massacre" or "genocide". How the elves deserved it. How it was their fault for being savages that denounced Andraste. 

He thought of the mothers who cried and begged when their children were taken to Circles. He thought of the mages that had panic attacks before their harrowing. He thought of the mages he'd personally seen use blood magic or turn into abominations - the mages he then helped kill.

For the first time in his life, he realised that in the moment before they cut their veins open or let a demon burst forth from their chests, every last one of those mages wore the same expression.

Fear. Desperation. Pain.

He remembered one young woman who had run away from the circle because her mother was dying. They'd tracked her down in a barn. She backed into a corner begging them not to take her. There were five of them surrounding her in full armor, and she was alone. Unarmed. 

"Blessed are they who stand before The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter."

He remembered repeating those lines to himself when he was fighting mages. When he was killing them. He felt sick.

"Commander? Are you alright?" 

He blinked, coming back into focus, and realised the dummy in front of him had no head anymore.

"Excuse me," he muttered, and walked briskly to his cabin.

He once visited a prison on templar business. He realised it didn't feel any different to the circle.

"Mages are dangerous. Any one of them can be corrupted." 

Those were the words spoken to him when he joined the order. The ones he repeated to himself over and over. Even here. Even at the Inquisition. He wasn't raised to do good. He was raised to kill mages. 

He once told Hawke that mages weren't people. Her sister was a mage. A Warden now, but–maker no wonder she looked at him with disgust.

"If you cage a dog and beat it for years how can you be surprised when it bites?"

He almost vomited as he remembered the Commander who calmly explained to him and all the other recruits that making a mage Tranquil was like neutering a feral dog - unpleasant, but necessary to tame it.

He remembered someone at Kinloch telling him how some of the Templars left books about blood magic around deliberately so they could apprehend anyone that read them.

He remembered a mage being beaten in Kirkwall screaming in pain and using the blood on the whip to conjure a protective shield around herself. Which they broke through. And killed her.

How did he spend so long utterly convinced that he was doing the Maker's work, when all he did was cause pain and violence? How did he convince himself he was in the right? 

Mistress Lavellan was not the first person to shout at him about this. Maker knows Hawke did it enough. What's different? What's chang–

The lyrium.

He staggered in his pacing around the room, almost falling over as his eyes went to the pile of belongings in the corner that the box he'd had since he was 18 lay at the bottom of. 

The first time he'd taken lyrium he'd hated it, it was disgusting - he remembers his friend Pip vomiting, asking if he had to take it, and the furious Commander threatening to beat him for insubordination.

Do we even need it? Is it even necessary? 

His thoughts turned to Alistair. Oh Maker. He'd never really thought about it, but Alistair left for the Wardens before he took his vows. He’d never taken lyrium, and Alistair could use his Templar abilities without it. He'd seen it. At Kinloch.

Cullen roared in anger and threw a glass at the wall where it shattered.

Lies. His whole life, his whole belief system was built on lies. He'd caused so much pain. So much evil, and he’d never once questioned it. 

How did he even begin to undo his wrongs? He could ask for forgiveness from Andraste, from the Maker, but what good did that do in the here and now?

There was a knock at the door.

"Not now!" 

"Bur sir, you asked for this report as soon–"

"I said NOT NOW!!"

The poor scout scurried away. A minute or two later, a familiar voice sounded outside, accompanied by a gentler knock. 

"Cullen, it's Leliana. Can I come in?"

"Fine." He tried to spit the word but his voice broke, betraying him. He didn't look up as she slipped inside.

"You're bleeding, Cullen." She gestured to her mouth, and Cullen mirrored her. 

Oh. Mistress Lavellan must have split my lip.

"I, ah, had a run-in with the Herald. It probably looks worse than it is."

"Let me–"

"No! I deserve it."

Leliana arched an eyebrow. She glanced deliberately at the shattered glass on the floor and then back to him. "Is there something you'd like to talk about, Cullen?"

"You have far better things to do with your time," he mumbled, turning away, but she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.

"That is not what I asked."

"I am a grown man Leliana, I can–"

"What? Self-flagellate in isolation and bottle up your emotions until they fester?"

Tears pricked in his eyes. He couldn't meet her gaze. 

"I understand not wanting to burden others with your feelings, Cullen, but shutting yourself away helps no one, least of all yourself. How is it better to break things and shout at our scouts through doors once you can't keep a handle on yourself any more?"

His cheeks burned with shame. He started to shake, the compassion in her voice stabbing through him deeper than any sword could.

She frowned a little. "Would you like me to pray with you?"

Cullen couldn't stop the hysterical laughter that burst out at that. As if prayer could fix what he was. What he'd done.

"Sit. Now." Cullen knew better than to ignore the authority in her voice, and as he collapsed into a chair, Leliana knelt in front of him, and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. Her face was dark with worry. She reminded him of Mia.

"Talk to me Cullen. Tell me what's wrong."

"Everything!" He shouted, unable to stop the tears that started falling from his eyes. "She was right! She stood there and shouted and wept and said the word Templar like it was poison and she was right! I killed innocent people because the Chantry told me my whole life that it was my duty to do so! I helped torture and murder children! And it took someone punching me in the face and calling me an idiot to make me even realise that that was wrong! If the Chantry is what the Maker truly wants then I want no longer want any party in it!"

Leliana took his hands. "And if the Chantry is not what the Maker wants?"

"Isn't it?" Cullen retorted bitterly, pulling his hands away. 

"Has He personally told you it is?" She was watching him calmly, as though his whole world wasn't spiralling into the abyss, and he wanted to scream.

"The Chantry speaks the word of the Maker. Everything they do is in His Name."

"That doesn't mean they are right."

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration, and stood, beginning to pace again. "Pray tell, then Leliana. What IS His will, hm? What DOES the Maker want? Did He put me on earth just to suffer? Is this my Trial? Am I failing?"

"The Maker does not make you suffer, Cullen. That is the fault of men."

"Stop being so cryptic!" He was shouting now, he could hear his voice getting louder and louder, and his face going red with anger and grief. "The Chantry speak for the Maker. They are His Church!"

"The Maker did not pick up a pen and write the Chant himself!" Leliana raised her voice too, standing defiantly in front of him. "He did not make the circles, or the Templars. Humans are fallible Cullen. They make mistakes, and words and intentions can be twisted!"

"But-"

"Who is your God, Cullen? Is it the Maker? Or is it The Chantry?"

The question stunned him into silence. His ears rang and he actually staggered backwards under the force with which the implications hit him. For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence, and his own ragged breathing as everything he ever learned fell apart and reformed into something new.

He stared at Leliana in wild disbelief, and she nodded, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

The Chantry and the Maker were not the same.

...the Chantry was wrong.

The Chantry was wrong.

The Chantry could be wrong. And he could still follow the Maker. 

Except.... Could he?

"Leliana..."

She waited patiently.

"How can I ever follow the Maker when I did such evil in his name?"

"I will be blunt, Cullen. There will be people that will never forgive you. Nor do they have any obligation to do so. But that should not stop you. It is never too late to change, or to start anew. True faith comes from action. Be vocal. Be compassionate. Treat mages with kindness and trust, but understand why they might not want it. You keep saying you are not the man you were in Kirkwall? Prove it. Repentance is hard, and will make you uncomfortable. You must work for it, and keep working for it. Remember it is not a goal, but a constant journey."

The words settled over him like a weighted blanket - heavy, but somehow comforting despite the solemnity of the moment.

"Thank you." He hesitated for a moment, staring at the ground, still wiping away the last of his tears. "...will you pray with me?" he asked quietly. "Not the Chant, just -"

"Of course."

Praying in silence was different. He was so used to speaking the words of the Chant and feeling them flow through him. Still, despite the quiet, it made the air in the cabin warm and light.

He felt a calm begin to settle inside him in the wake of his turmoil. He still had questions, and doubts, and guilt... but for the first time in far too long, he also had hope. He wanted to see the Herald and apologise. But that could wait. 

Leliana kissed his head and said " I'll tell everyone you are feeling unwell and you're not to be disturbed. Take some time to yourself. Rest. Start fresh tomorrow. When you want to talk about this some more, you know where to find me."

As she left, she smiled back at him. "Andraste watch over you, Commander."

It was a surprise that his returning smile came so naturally. "And you, Leliana."

[stone-man-warrior]

October 30, 2020: 2:55 pm:

I am seeing evidence of a calling to terror soldiers to attack in large groups, but with the specification of not using a nitrous gas tank to hold and carry the nitrous has weapon, the attack without a tank is called “natural”, and suggests that the targets of such “natural” terror soldiers, are those of high security, where concealing nitrous tanks is not possible without risk of detection.

This is in response to what I am seeing, I wrote these ideas and thoughts on my suspended Twitter account, cannot send it anywhere. The result of that kind of writing in the Twitter text boxes, has proven to be interesting, but the remedy for the outcome of such writing is beyond what I am able to combat. Begging for help here.

There is not much time.

I need help personally from ongoing attacks at my home, and the nation needs help from ongoing attacks throughout the USA, and the world needs help to maintain freedom for the people on it.

Please send help.

Send US Military to Oregon.

Please send medical services.

This Pontifex Tweet fits the "natural" commands that Trump seems to be saying.

If Jesus is a sail on a mast, he uses wind to move the boat where the mast is attached.

Some sails differ.

A sail with a tank to carry nitrous, differs from a similar sail, but one without a tank of nitrous.

Put the difference aside. Become "Natural". In that way, draw near to others, to use wind to move the boat. No tank, no questions asked.

Look for ideas presented on Twitter that present low pressure conditions, or, low wind speed, or, foul odor, perhaps cows and bovine ideas, stampede, brief gusts rather than long sustained wind, or acceleration. Short burts of power created with many parts.

The story about the "walking building" today fits into these kinds of terror commands. The building was moved a short distance by virtue of many RAMS, each one taking a small step, moving forward in unison, and with alternating steps.

Many terror soldiers, each one armed with a small quantity of nitrous gas, working in unison, alter-nately... alter-neatly... alter naturaly, in effort, to gain some ground.

In the field where this attack plan is to be deployed, it is likely a highly secure area, one where concealing an internal nitrous tank could be detected.

Air Port. Government facility. Large corporate technology research & development offices, facilities. Military installation. Voting booth? I think not.

Bigger, more, complex.

Vote counting, yes.

Vote count facility in your county: "Hi, we are with NBC Universal, and we are interested in showing the TV viewers, the voting public, just exactly how secure and proffessional the vote counting and verification process is done. We would (pssssss) like to get (hissssss) your permission to (HISSSSSSS) have access and follow the proceeesssssssss as you count votes here. There are only 27 of us in our production team, we (hissssss pssssss) won't be in the way, we are NBC Universal, the trusted source for US voters (hisssssss)."

Something like that might happen. After NBC Universal gets inside, anything could happen.

I think bigger, and more secure an area though. The vote counts are correct historically in my view, it's the voters who are imposters, millions, and more millions of Canadians who killed and replaced the majority of the voting public over the course of fifty years. The vote count is already been dealt with by the Pope Bergoglio and his pirate navy.

What else could they be after, something very useful as an "end game" guarantee of sustained and eternal power after the last blow is dealt?

Absence of Freedom, is the presence of captivity.

They will be wanting every guarantee that once the last drop of freedom is squeezed from USA, that there can be no possible means of restoring the freedom.

So, prisons, jails, hospitals.

Those kinds of things are what they need.

US Military bases on all continents, they need that, and have already successfully taken many of them, so, which US Military bases are left un-sacked?

Those are the places where small sparking devices should have been installed years ago, at and around US Military bases. Small candle holders in those areas. The towns where bases are at, need to have sparking devices installed throughout the towns. Attach them to the street lamps, cross walks, along the guard rails on the freeway.

It only needs to make a small spark and be distributed around a geographic area.

USA is not worth the cost of a set of spark plugs, so, no one listened to what I have been warning about for so long, and, USA remains wide open to the Bergoglio and his pirate navy. USA is being beaten by a group of church lady's and TV entertainers. We are getting our asses annihilated, and no one is noticing what has been happening. We, as a nation, are still not seeing that the corona virus is not a virus. It's a gas attack, and it has "gone viral". It's not a medical virus, it's a slaughter. The gas attack is viral by the way it is carried out, by attacking individuals, regular citizens, capturing them, torturing them, so they will provide information that leads the terror army to other family and friends of the captured victim. The contacts in the cellular phones of victims alone, is enough to cause exponentially increasing numbers of victims hourly, each one replaced with an imposter from the Canadian terror army, or, from SAG casting rosters.

Either way, the replacements happen, are cast into their roles in place of murdered victims, stacked on top of one another over time, every day, each cellular phone obtained leads to dozens more victims, daily, hourly, and compounded by the minute exponentially.

We are still not seeing that the virus is only viral by the way the terror army is attacking.

We are still refusing to use simple elementary physics to combat the virus. In the event that there is a virus, or, in the event that it's a nitrous gas attack on the world, either way, the small flame that clears the air of both germs, and nitrous gas, is being tossed into the water, discarded.

A hundred thousand years of humans using a flame to survive.... forgotten about.

I don't think there is much of a threat at the voting facilities, I think other targets are what they are going to take. Look at this way... there are two choices on the ballot, each one is a piece of shit, there is no choice.

It's like that intentionally. Both are on the same team, they act as if they are enemies, but their goals are the same, so, the vote will not change anything. The change if Biden is selected, only amounts to the difference of volume. It will go from loud and obnoxious, to quiet and secretive. There will no other real change. They both work from the same SAG Screenplay. They are both staring roles in the same soap opera.

The point is that the vote result, either way, serves the Pope Bergoglio and his pirate navy the same way.

They are after other, bigger, more important targets. The kinds of targets that ensure USA loss of freedom, loss of nation, loss of constitution, will remain a loss.

French North American Republic Territory is the goal for all of North America that the Bergoglio's crusades are after. He works in unison with British House of Lords, and they use Screen Actor Guild to command the Canadian terror army that was provided to the SAG, by the British Throne, for them to command with marching orders, here, on Twitter.

FNART replaces Canada, USA, and Mexico with a new Communist Kingdom. Clearly, you can easily see that ingredients used for the set up, NAFTA, then USMCA.

Add Trump's Wall, and then see that Brexit is the other side of the coin in Europe. The British used the Euro Dollar as a weapon, one that allowed anonymous easy travel between the European countries, easy access for the Pope Bregoglio's pirate navy. Meanwhile, the UK never accepted the Euro Dollar. They won't allow that freedom of anonymous movement, you need Pound Sterling while in the UK, so, you need to ID yourself at an currency exchange house. But not in the EU. Just load up on that monopoly toy money that the Brit’s arranged, and start hopping fences.

A global attack.

Having said all of that, some clarification:There is a difference between Trump and Biden in the White House, however, that difference won't affect the outcome, the way I see things.

Like I said, the Brit's use the Christian church to build a base of crusading terror soldiers. Both Trump and Biden are loyal to the Brits, loyal to the Vatican, neither are loyal to USA.

There is a complication as mentioned in other things I have written, and that is Trump is, like Biden, a British Knight, however, secretly Trump is loyal to the German parts of the Vatican, the remnants of Pope Benadict. On other hand, Biden is loyal to the current Pope, the Bergoglio.

With the Bergoglio, comes Amazon, Google, Tesla, Facebook, Twitter, Space X, The Boring Company, and all of the so called "Unicorns".

With the Pope Benedict parts of the Vatican, the Trump parts, also comes those same things. The difference is that the Bergoglio Unicorns don't know that the Benedict parts of the Vatican have been undermining them, while riding on all of those long coat tails they made. The Trump/Benedict Vatican, is in conflict with the Bergoglio/House of Lords Vatican.

It's complicated.

None of that complication changes the outcome, that USA will be replaced with a new nation. The difference seems to be, whether Canada and Mexico is included in both versions of the end of the soap opera. Trump built a wall. That does not really fit into the Bergoglio/House of Lords plans for North America. That plan had no wall, to my knowledge.

How does all of that affect the Brexit part of the global takeover?

I don't have an answer or speculation for that. As far as the Corona Virus is concerned, it's as if we have become too fucking stupid to save our own lives.

3:15 pm.

[fuwafuwamedb]

The Treasured Dragon (Saber! Gil, Hakuno, Gil Collective)

“You know, it surprises me.”

Archer and Enkidu both looked over at the woman nearby, watching her frown at the doorway nearby. Her book was lowered at the moment. Her attention seemed focused on one door in particular.

The two servants glanced at one another before Enkidu shrugged.

“What’s on your mind, Hakuno?”

“I keep thinking that it’s weird with Saber Gilgamesh. Saber seems to get worried every time he sees little Gula. This morning she gave him coffee and he nearly dropped the cup.”

The woman glanced over at the two of them, shaking her head.

“I’m sure it’s probably just odd to see one of your selves having kids, but his reaction was a bit more than Rider and Ruler’s responses. I thought there might be a reason behind how he acts.”

“I doubt it,” Gil Archer replied, setting down a few cards and watching Enkidu laugh. “The only thing that’s ever on Saber’s mind is simply bedding anything that moves. He’s an atrocious version of me… I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. I have stated that before.”

“You have.”

The man turned those eyes to her. “Then you should listen better, Hakuno, and stay by my side.”

Still, it just didn’t sit well with her.

Saber had been dodgy with her since the start.

He was still very insistent, very bedroom friendly. He was good and pulling others to his bed and getting them under him. Between the smooth talking, the bedroom eyes, the lip nip he did when he was in the mood, and his arms wrapping around a person; it was incredibly difficult to turn him down.

“I’ll be back,” she told the two, heading from the room.

The man was sharpening his sword when she entered, his eyes drifting over to her only to pause.

“Is there something you need… master?”

I really want to know why you never really call me Hakuno if we’re alone.

She couldn’t ask that though. Instead, she just smiled a bit and moved to sit down near him on the bed.

“I came to see you. Gula said you were a little awkward this morning.”

“She imagined it.”

His attention returned to his weapon.

Considering that Gula was their child, she had no doubt in her mind that she could notice things far more easily than most. Along with that, she knew Gil enough to know that he would rather entertain himself with a person more than anything else. Even when they were doing something or on a mission, Gilgamesh paid great attention to those around him.

Saber’s eyes were focused on his blade.

Right.

“I was thinking that you and I could go train a bit in the rayshift. I’ll let you pick the place,” Hakuno offered.

“Hmm?”

Those red eyes lifted, staring at her.

The hyperfocus had her hesitating a moment.

“You and I could go train… anywhere in any time.”

“What about the others?”

She gave a small shrug.

Whatever was going on in his mind, he needed time to beat some enemies up. Gudako wanted more materials anyway. This way, they could kill two birds with one stone.

The man opened his gates, tossing his blade in before he stood up.

“Alright, but you must remain at my side the entire time.”

“I have nowhere else that I would rather be.”

He hesitated at that, a small smirk playing on those lips a moment before he turned and headed for the door. The two of them were heading down the hall, all the way to the command room.

His hands went to the computer keyboards for a small spell, his typing filling the room as Hakuno found herself giving the restroom a quick try. When she came out, the man was waiting, leaning against the door.

“Ready?”

“I am.”

The man motioned into the room.

“You’re going first,” he told her. “I will follow after you in a moment.”

“Are you sure?”

“I must make sure communications and everything works for being able to get back to Chaldea.”

That… was quite a smart way of doing things. Maybe they should have grabbed someone to watch the monitors. Then again, whomever they got to help would be quick to tell the other Gilgamesh where she’d gone.

This also could have been about trust.

I wouldn’t put it passed Gil.

“Let’s head out then.” She gave the man a smile before moving into the other room.

“Hakuno!”

The man hurried after her a moment, handing her a set of odd gloves and boots.

“They’re meant for you to wear.”

Yeah… She could gather that.

Gilgamesh waited as she changed her shoes, handing him hers and testing the new shoes out gingerly.

“These are a bit…”

He glanced her way, making her stop before she said something foolish like that they felt uncomfortable.

They’re for one go around.

She’d tell him when they got back.

Hakuno waved him off, watching him leave her in the room. She placed her gloves on and frowned more at the needle-like parts in the things. Actually, looking a bit closer, it kinda felt like there was mana in these-

The moment the machines began to whir, she could tell something was going on. The machines were never this loud. The shoes and the gloves suddenly tightened a moment before she felt herself being shifted to their target location.

Pain shot through straight to her mana circuits. Mana poured heavily into her system, knocking her from her feet and onto the ground.

Her breakfast was lost as she felt a wave of nausea hit her system. She peeled off the gloves and shoes immediately, but that did little to help. While there were no longer needles piercing her person, there was still the mana.

So much mana…

She could barely breathe. The mana needed to be used.

There was nothing else she could do but use it somehow. If she could just have an enemy or-

“Breathe,” a familiar voice purred. “You need to breathe. Let yourself create as many flowers as you need.”

Flowers…

Like Merlin?

Hakuno glanced over at Saber, watching him as he rubbed her back.

“What… what did you… do-“

“I gave you the mana that you were missing. My Hakuno had much more mana than you. She also had memories of this world, but one cannot have everything, I suppose. We are here to retrieve something important to me.”

Important?

“The key to your treasury… is in my room… in Chaldea.”

The man laughed, shaking his head.

What the hell was he after?

“Breathe, Hakuno. The mana will not kill you.”

He did not know that.

Essentially, he’d shoved a thousand needles into her, injected gods only knew how much mana into her system, and now was pretty much telling her to walk it off.

“We should get the others.”

“You don’t need them.”

Like hell she didn’t-

Saber sighed, hauling her up into his arms and carrying her along the grassy plain. They moved to a small cottage and found the man smirking softly.

“…What?”

The smirk vanished. “It’s nothing. We should hurry. I imagine he is probably in here.”

He?

Gilgamesh was knocking on the door though, finding the place opening and the woman inside pausing.

“…It’s about damn time.”

“Is he-“

“Sleeping. I see you managed to save her.”

Saber said nothing, carrying her into the small place.

The woman at the door looked almost like Scathach… If it wasn’t for the black suit, she would have sworn it was her.

Hakuno turned her attention to the room and paused, finding Saber setting her on a cot in the corner before moving to the hearth.

His hands pulled the small bundle from the rug, pulling back the fabrics a bit to see the little one’s…

Was that baby Gula?

“Usumgal,” Gilgamesh murmured. “Did you watch over the mongrel here?”

“Watch your mouth,” the Scathach looking lady growled.

“Silence, Aife. I have no use for your nonsense… I saw your lover while I was away, by the way.”

“Eh, keep him. He’s no use to me.” Aife shook her head, yawning. “If you both are back, then I’m leaving. I’m sure my sister is being a fool in the mountains.”

The man waved her off, leaning in towards the small baby as Aife let herself out.

She wasn’t sure if she should say anything or remain silent.

“Hakuno,” Saber glanced over at her. “Come here.”

She tried moving. Her stomach hurt.

“Hakuno-“

“Can you bring her here?” Hakuno asked. “The mana infusion was painful as hell.”

Gilgamesh flashed her a look before standing up, carrying the little one over to her side and settling the little one into her arms.

“This is Usumgal,” he told her. “He is your son. Your eldest.”

He would be the youngest compared to the five she had in Chaldea, but she wouldn’t say that. Her eyes drifted down to the brunet, noting the red eyes.

Her hand brushed at his cheek a bit.

“Do not exert mana at him,” Gil warned.

“I’m not! I’m just looking at him. He looks like Gula.”

“My Hakuno went to fight Mordred in this time to protect the two of us. She thought she could either talk sense into the woman or kill her.”

“And?”

Saber glanced at the little one for a bit.

It must not have gone as well as one had hoped.

Her eyes drifted down to the infant, holding him a little closer.

“What does his name mean, if anything.”

“Dragon.”

“Dragon?”

Saber leaned in, smirking a bit as he bumped his head against hers a bit and looked at the bundle in her arms more closely.

“You described his kicking like a dragon getting ready to unfurl from your stomach and slaughter our enemies… and mentioned my temper was about as nasty as a useless creature like a dragon. The moment he was born, you used the word you got from me that meant dragon and tossed it upon the boy’s shoulders without a second thought. I tried many alternatives and you wouldn’t hear of it.”

“The name is cute.”

He rolled his eyes.

Dragon…

No, Usumgal.

She could probably have Saber keep the little one in his chambers at Chaldea. At this point, Chaldea was big enough that it probably wasn’t a problem.

“Saber,” Hakuno glanced over at the man. “Let’s go back… We’ll take Usumgal with us.”

They made it back in record time, leaving her to throw the gloves and boots that fell into the room in a trash bin on the way out.

Her stomach still hurt, but she moved slowly, letting Gilgamesh hold the small bundle in his arms.

“…You will get accustomed to the mana soon,” he told her easily enough. “Perhaps that will jog memories of what happened between us.”

Was that why he’d done-

She paused at a restroom, slipping through the door once more as another bout of nausea hit her.

She could hear Gilgamesh coming in behind her, standing by the sink.

“Your mother is no good with her mana right now, Usum. She’s going to end up learning how to control her mana after you.”

“I’ve never handled this much mana before,” Hakuno growled.

The man shrugged. “You did once. If I recall correctly, you had a voracious appetite to go with it.”

Voracious…

“You’re in front of our son!” Hakuno hissed.

“Never stopped you before.”

His eyes gleamed in amusement, leaving her to glare at him.

She had never, in any capacity, succumbed to those kinds of things with a ‘voracious’ appetite. She had a regular libido, unlike this golden asshole.

She doubted her other self was that way too.

“Hakuno, you’re making-“

The door was held open as Caster peeked in. The man’s eyes met Saber and his tiny infant.

“…What do you have there, Saber?”

“Evidence of Hakuno’s undying devotion for her favorite servant.”

She leaned over the toilet more.

I’ll just remain here with my head like this, she thought to herself. I’m not going to look back at Caster.

“Hakuno,” Caster’s gentle, deceptively calm voice purred. “Explain why there’s another infant in Chaldea with your hair color.”

[flyswhumpcenter]

Keepsakes [Whumptober 2019 - Day 15: Scars]

Summary: Serena asks questions about Shun's scars, bringing them on the path of memories.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V (post-canon, implied alternate ending) Ship: Established Serena/Shun

Wordcount: 1.171 words

Content Warnings: Brief mentions of surgeries. Some references to a near-death experience. Consensual love.

Notes: It's whump if I mention how the scars happened, right? Because otherwise this is all fluff lol Nano and I got the same idea when I mentioned to her the next Whumptober prompts on my list being, back then, "Tear-Stained" and "Scars" : Peregrine stuff. We need more of it. I'll provide, I don't care how or when, I'll provide. I didn't intend this oneshot to have such a sensual tone, but I'm not against it, I've barely written any intimacy lately. The most sensual thing I've written aside from that was, like, a hug in BWI maybe? (spoils spoils) This is meant to be post-canon where the dimensions have fused together, but the Bracelet Girls and Yu Boys are free and not stuck in one mind because that was bogus/20. Bracelet Girls rights. (this story isn't the right place to complain about Arc-V disappointing us). And of course these two are a little older than they are in canon, they're young people who know what they're doing and can consent. I absolutely self-indulgently slipped a reference to a former work of mine, "Birds of a Feather, Fall Together". I've also included a modified reference to an older Arc-V fic I absolutely love, "placeholders" by harezora (who's most likely never gonna read these notes, but in case they do: I love this story so much it was great and better than canon holy shit). 

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

------

The stare she was giving his chest was a bit too intense to his liking, as if her eyes were deciphering some ancient writing on a wall, scrolling from top to bottom, gliding from the left to the right. For a first night sharing a bed in peaceful condition with so little clothing on either of them (it had taken ages for him to even get comfortable with the idea, let alone putting it into place), it was a weird thing for her to do.

Not like he was any better, considering his own eyes couldn’t seem to unglue themselves from the bits of exposed skin left alone by her pyjamas, trailing from her slender shoulders to her hands, focusing on the few imperfections left on her skin by time and experiences, the easily seen and the barely visible, the memories’ physical form laid before him.

 “What are you staring at like that?” he still asked, right as he himself didn’t look quite exactly into her gaze.

“Your scars”, she bluntly replied.

He found himself puffing.

“They’re terrible, right?”

“They’re scars, really,” she continued, crossing her legs on the bed. “You’ve got a lot of them, but they’re a part of yourself. We wouldn’t be the exact same without them.”

That was a bit too deep for his late-night brain, truth be told.

“I suppose so.”

She must have been right, he silently figured, considering the number of scars he could see on her body.

 Serena’s eyes didn’t deter. In fact, her gaze only grew in strength as it continued deciphering the foreign inscriptions in front of her eyes. Her hand twitched on her tight, fingers in a dire want to move, as if she was preventing them from taking off somewhere else.

“I see that you too have a lot of-”

“Can I ask you about them?”

The question surprised him beyond his mind.

“…Come again?”

“Can I ask you about your scars?”

His eyes were furiously blinking.

“Sure, I guess…?”

 What was so interesting about these? They were just ugly, abhorrent traces left behind by wounds of all sorts. And yet, and yet, he found himself with her fingers dancing around his chest, her touch almost sending shivers down his spine (it was closer to a fluttering feel he wasn’t very familiar with, at least not yet), her eyes shining with the light of the bedside lamp.

He didn’t mind, frankly. It had a weird sense of comfort to have her explore him like this, curiosity filling her every move. It made it far less awkward for him to do the same, his own hands brushing against her shoulders, questions coming to his mind. How had she gotten herself these blemishes on her shoulder blades, as light as they were, near a crescent-shaped birthmark right over her breast? Where did the little scars on her arms came from?

Serena was right: they wouldn’t be the same without their scars. This much he could only realize, now that he was actually discovering someone else’s body for the first time in his life.

 Her fingertip stopped on the freshest scar on his skin, laying right under his ribcage.

“This one is from what I think, right?”

“Our first meeting,” he commented. “Well, the aftermath of it, at least.”

“I remember you trying to escape the hospital right before your surgery. Reiji had to send Tsukikage to stun you before you did because Yuya didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her laugh made it worth the embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just… remember your reaction to it. It wasn’t funny at the time, but now that I think about it… It’s kind of funny.”

 Her eyebrows then slightly frowned, making her smile bittersweet.

“…we didn’t start on the best first impressions, did we? You know, being on the opposite sides of a war, my people wanting to slaughter yours and the opposite way around, the Lancers…”

“I wouldn’t have said that. You were the best first impression I had in that dimension.”

“Was it because I looked like Ruri?”

“Maybe.”

 She smiled as her finger left its spot.

“I’m just glad we’re at peace now.”

“Same here.”

 Silence fell between them, albeit only for a short-lived moment, as her finger was still dancing around, eyes following it, before it found itself another spot to ask about.

“And this one?”

Her touch landed on his abdomen, on an old scar he had almost forgotten about from how used he was to seeing it every morning, every evening, every day, every night. Her eyes were sharp, to notice such a faded-out line.

“An old surgery from when I was a kid. I tried ignoring it, but it wasn’t an option. The best thing I remember about it was Ruri sitting by the bed asking me if it hurt.”

“And, did it hurt?”

“It was just sore, really.”

“What surgery was it?”

“Appendicitis, I think.”

“Ah… Never got it myself. Sounds rough.”

“Don’t,” he laughed, looking back at his younger self lying frustrated in a hospital bed. “It was a terrible time to be alive.”

It wasn’t funny, but she giggled back anyway.

“I’m sure it was.”

 Her irises continued their dance, accompanied by her lips shaped in a soft smile. This was a face he could have never resisted, the one who had won him over when he was refusing to show more skin than his arms to her. She’d be the death of him, now that the people trying to kill his entire kind were gone and on the path of redemption – but what a desirable demise she’d be.

“Oh, and this one?”

Her finger gently pressed against a deeper, much more visible scar on his left flank. That one displeased him much more than he’d have wished to admit.

“I got stabbed by an Obelisk Force jackass back in Xyz, before Yuto and I came to Standard, right in front of Ruri too. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have bled out there.”

“That’s horrible…”

“Wasn’t a cosy time to be alive either. Just shows you how strong my sister actually is. Heh, I was blind back there.”

Serena was quiet, her five fingers now flat on his abdomen.

“Hey, don’t make this face. I’m still here, alive and kicking, and so are you. That’s what matters.”

This managed to bring a small smirk back to her lips.

“You’re right.”

 She eventually sighed, cupping his face with her hands, her slender fingers brushing through his hair.

“I’ll have to tell you about mine someday. I don’t have as many, or with as much history, but…”

“That’s wrong. I’m sure they have more meaning that you’re trying to imply.”

“You think?”

“Try me.”

They exchanged mischievous looks, smiles and gazes swapped.

“For another day, then. We got to make the fun last.”

Peace meant they finally had time before them to enjoy life and all the things it brought with it, good and bad.

“Of course,” he said, before they closed the space between their lips.

[fridge-reviews]

Nier: Automata

Developer: Square Enix Publisher: Square Enix Rrp: £39.99 (Steam, Square Enix Store and Humblebundle) Released: March 17th 2017 Available on: Steam, Square Enix Store and Humblebundle Played Using: An Xbox 360 control pad Approximate game length: 30 ish hours You know I tried to come up with a preamble for this review, but I kept coming up blank because to be absolutely honest nothing I can write will be both relevant and not a spoiler in some way, and believe me this is a game that you really should go in blind and experience for yourself. The problem with trying to define this game is that it flicks from one genre to another quite often. One thing I can definitely say is that the game is 'usually' a third person open world RPG. You definitely gain Xp through completing quests and killing enemies does grant Xp as well as money. However sometimes the game is a twin stick shooter, or a top down shooter or a side scrolling platformer... or a number of other things. This is actually very much how this games predecessor played as well, which was Nier that I played on the Xbox 360 (sadly it was never released for PC or I would play it on here). It should also be mentioned that you don't need to have played any of the other games in the series to understand this one. If you did though you'll be treated to some nice call backs, quite a few of which I never expected.

You play as an android and its your job to destroy the Machine Lifeforms that were sent to conquer the Earth by aliens. This is done by hacking, slashing, shooting and err... hacking (of the computer variety). That all sounds pretty straight forward right? Sure it does. Now lets not waste time asking pesky questions about morality. Seeing that Platinum are involved it's of no surprise that the combat is an absolute joy to not only perform but also behold. Each movement is smooth and even a button masher like myself was able to pick up a few combos here and there. It was a little tricky to get used to controlling and firing the pods while also dodging incoming attacks as well as performing moves myself. But the game eases you into it very well and by the time you reach a major climax of the game you'll be dodging, firing and slicing like a seasoned player.

Even though your combat capability is pretty incredible even at a base level you can always increase those damage values and refine or even add to those already impressive abilities. This is done through 'chips', as you play through the game you'll find and purchase chips that can be installed into you on the fly. No, seriously if you really want to you can switch out mid-battle. Something to take note of though is that even though these chips are listed as skills quite a few of them affect the HUD. For example you have to purchase and then activate the Xp bar to actually see what Xp you're earning. You can also deactivate and sell chips, so if you want to play a game with no mini map or objective markers you can and you'll even make a little money too. This level of customisation is great that anyone who loves to micromanage their stats will love since you can try and optimise the perfect build for your android with their chips. However if you don't have the time or inclination to do that you can also just select automatic and the game will give you what it deems is the best set up with what you have.

Of course, we can talk about adding skills without mentioning weapons. There are quite a few of those to pick from in the game and depending on what combination of weapon you choose you'll have different moves. Weapons can also be upgraded adding extra damage as well as effects, some increase the chance of stunning and enemy others add damage in the form of a charged attack. Now its almost a certainty that at some point in the game you will die. In the even of that your body is left behind which, if you die again (or take too long) before retrieving it, will disappear. However if you do get manage to find your body you have a choice to make you can retrieve it which will give you back and re-equip all the chips you had or alternatively you can choose to repair it which takes a bit longer but will give you back all your chips but also gives you a temporary ally.

In order to get the full story of Nier: Automata you have to play through the the game multiple times using the same save file, with each new playthrough things will change. And with their being twenty six different endings you will definitely need to play a fair few times to get the full scope of it all. Though it must be said that most of those twenty six endings are intentionally silly and are not considered 'canon'. As was mentioned earlier this game features an open world, but as open worlds go this one is quite compact cramming a lot of detail and feeling to the world in a small handcrafted space. Due to Nier: Automata being an open world game it's expected that there are side quests for you to complete and in this regard Nier: Automata is no slouch, there are missions scattered all over the place (none of which involve a radio tower). However since this is a game that wants you to play through it multiple times some missions don't appear on the first or even second go. Some of the missions however continue from one playthrough to the next with the quest giver acting as if nothing at all had changed.

I do have a lot of praise to heap on this game. Honestly I only really have one thing that annoyed me. For some reason every time I booted up the game or there was a major transition within the game the mouse cursor would appear in the centre of the screen. Sure moving it to the side was no issue but I don't see why I should have to do that when many of this contemporaries manage to not have that issue. The music is fantastic being simultaneously unobtrusive and catchy (though I have no idea what the actual lyrics are). But what I really love is the way the songs transition not from one song to another but from one version of the song to another depending on what is going on. If I have a flaw at all it's that some of the music is a bit too calming for me and I'd find myself nodding off to it.

I highly recommend turning on the network features (which I believe is set to off as a default). On the surface this feature works similarly to the ability to collect your body except now you can collect other peoples. If you retrieve a body you'll gain some short term benefits and a little money, alternatively you could repair the body for a temporary ally. This feature does more than that but.... well that would be telling. Get it. This game is really, really, really, really good well worth the asking price. I've had a blast just slaughtering enemies with the slick combat but I've also been touched by some of its more poignant and heartfelt scenes. If you like RPG's do not pass this one by. If this appeals to you perhaps try; Nier Grandia 2 Final Fantasy 15

[insane-control-room]

Ice Trip

A little ice skating never hurt anyone, especially when you go ice skating with an alternate version of yourself! 

A sweet and humorous story I had worked on for quite a while for @halfusek, featuring their Magenta and my Johan going ice skating.

You can find the companion art here!

“Hey, Mag!”

Johan’s voice eagerly (and slightly terrifyingly) wavered into Joey’s office, the sound of it revealed before the man was fully formed, ones and zeros depixelizing getting into place. Magenta put down his pen to look at him, noting how his eyes shone and he beamed.

His mirth was infectious, and Magenta felt his lips slowly inch into a smile at his… friend? Companion? Attempted murderer? Boyfriend? Doppelganger? He did not know, so he shrugged it off and smiled at him in any case.

“Hello, Johan,” he greeted with a nod, Johan nearly bouncing his way over his desk, a (shrunken to size) sweater on, clearly not originally his own, rather a certain animator’s. Magenta rose an eyebrow, leaning back. “You look happy today.”

“Not happy, mi rey,” Johan sweetly remarked, Magenta feeling his smile broaden slightly as he squirmed from the hypocoristic. Johan bounced on his toes. “I’m just rather excited!”

“For what?” Magenta questioned, tilting his head, intrigued. Johan’s grin shrank slightly, he becoming nervous. “Johan?”

“Well, I, um, you see,” he began, stumbling over his words and blushing. He opened a pocket dimension (how, Magenta wondered), and pulled out two pairs of ice skates. Magenta squinted at them. “I wanted to know if you’ll come skating with me.”

“I… I don’t know,” he answered, shifting in his seat. Johan looked off to the ground, biting his lip in thought. Magenta had been out of any sportsmanship practices for a long time, never having the use for once honed skills and letting them fizzle down. He looked back at his alternate self. “I really… I haven’t skated in a very long time… I don’t really know.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Johan insisted gently, plucking on Magenta’s sleeve carefully. Magenta still seemed unconvinced. Johan’s eyes lit up. “It’s just like dancing, but on knives!”

“What are you waiting for!?” Magenta demanded, taking him out of his office by the wrist, not a tight hold, but a firm one. “Let’s go!”

Joey had overestimated his skills. Not Johan, no, he spun gracefully, his long limbs swaying like willow branches, lithe and flowing, years of practice allowing him to move with ease. Magenta, who had not ice skated in a good decade, give or take a few years, was not focusing as much on performance, rather, he was concentrating on maintaining a semblance of balance.

He sighed, pouting as he watched Johan spin. He called to him, and preformed a pattern, making a small leap, Magenta realizing he was writing something in the ice.

Te amo, followed by a heart.

He stared at it, blushing lightly, his wobbly knees now not just from the skates.

A light laugh nearly sent him crashing to the ground.

“Mi amor, you’re shaking!” Johan softly pointed out, sliding up to him. Magenta’s scarf was wound around his neck, he only realizing it then that it was even missing. Johan took him by the hand, using the other on his shoulder to steady him. Magenta swallowed, trembling on the ice. “You’re as unstable as my mental health.”

“I’m not shaking!” Magenta denied, staring at his wobbling feet. “I’m fine, I just need to find my balance!”

“Oh, for that, you just need to relax…” Johan soothed, slowing his motions more, gently guiding Magenta in their dance. He exhaled, smiling. “Take it easy.”

“I am trying to,” he gritted out, gripping Johan’s hand tightly. Johan chuckled, making a curving circle with him. “I mean it!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied, smiling, slipping away and twirling, returning to his hands, and continuing, “You’ve done this before, right? You just need to recall it….”

They glided over the ice at a smooth and slow pace. Magenta let himself loosen up, exhaling. Johan’s hand was warm on his, and he held him up, not tightly, but enough to support him.

Johan’s quiet little laugh bubbled over his ears. He blinked, opening eyes he did not even know were closed. Johan beamed at him, an affectionate glow in his eyes and a soft blush blanketing his cheeks, slightly shielded by pink lenses.

“See?” he looked so nice, like a cinnamon bun with fresh coffee, just the perfect pick me up. Magenta did not realize how refreshing it was to be with someone who treated him as an equal, or even as a superior. He liked it best when Johan treated him just as he was, not embellished or degraded. Just who he was. Johan moved slightly back, giving Magenta the option to pull away from him and skate on his own. He did not. Johan laughed, a little louder, and god, he had such a beautiful smile. “You’re steady already, there’s no need to hold onto me like el gallina!”

“Like a what?” Magenta asked, blinking. Johan merely winked. Magenta looked over Johan taking in his long features, that giddiness he had, his unsuspecting expression. Joey felt his desire for the new and unexpected well up. He smirked, yanking Johan to him, too quick to let him ask what he was doing. “Nevermind that now. Johan, I think I found my footing.”

With a burst of speed, he propelled them backwards, Johan unable to suppress a shriek as they accelerated rapidly. His eyes widened and he gripped Magenta like a lifeline, shook from the suddenness. Magenta felt himself grin.

“Who’s shaky now?” he teased, making a sharp turn. “Hm?”

“I am!” Johan nearly shouted, “Cause you’re gonna kill me!”

“I thought you didn’t mind that,” he hummed, twisting his way down a crooked path. Johan gasped as he rose their interlocked hands and spun him, dipping him down even as they continued to move. “Isn’t that what you came for?”

“You are going to trip!” Johan yelped. “Then you’re gonna slaughter us both!”

“I won’t trip,” Magenta retorted, rolling his eyes. He dashed with him on the ice, too stuck up to say that he actually had lost his balance a long time before, and was not in control of their path, using Johan as a crutch to hopefully not collapse. He turned them, their velocity long out of his ability to change. “See? We’re fi-”

Thunk.

Magenta’s skate had embedded itself in the ice, and they were pitching forward.

The snow falling around them seemed to slow.

Johan smiled, the smile of one knowing death’s swift approach.

Magenta opened his mouth to speak, but Johan beat him to the action.

“Don’t you dare tell me that you tripped.”

“Fine,” Magenta scowled. “I won’t tell you.”

Thud.

Johan felt the wind being knocked out of him as Magenta pushed him onto the ice beneath him.

Magenta looked some form of… embarrassed? Apologetic? Dead inside?

Then he noticed the rather compromising position they were in (as though two men dancing would not raise any eyebrows), and his expression blankened. Think think say something c’mo-

“I blame society,” he stated, unable to figure out anything more intelligent to say. Johan pursed his lips, unimpressed.

“Really now?” he asked frankly, sarcastically, eyes half closed in silent reprimandation.

“Not really,” Magenta mumbled, glancing off to the side, noting how their hands were still interlocked. He looked back to Johan, smiling slightly. The funny side of the situation appeared, and Johan’s lips twitched into a grin.

He chuckled, trying to keep down his smile, trying and failing to be taciturn, his attempt adorably young and sweet. He frowned as Magenta grinned.

“What’s wrong?” Magenta questioned. Johan’s smile genuinely reappeared as he shook his head. “Nothing?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you happy,” he answered, blushing. “Really happy. I’m… I’m glad that I could make you smile. It’s really… really something else.”

Magenta flushed at the compliment, ducking his head and muttering how it was nothing.

“It’s something alright,” Johan crooned, his smile tinged with a slight pride. “My something.”

Their eyes met, and they found that they could not stop laughing.

It was absurd, they were absurd, one of two of one of a kind, a disaster squared, and yet here they were, fallen on the snow from ice skating, a fall one warned of.

Johan’s forehead met Magenta’s, and he had not even realized he had leaned toward him in his muted guffaws. He laughed harder, and Johan’s merriment reverberated and merged with his own, a positive feedback loop. They both simply laughed, until Johan started coughing, whether from his laughter or from the ice on his back unclear. Nonetheless, Magenta pulled them both up, eventually getting them to a warm room with blankets and hot drinks.

They were on the couch, Johan’s back pressed to Magenta’s chest, and they spoke of youth and energy. How both seemed in so little supply for them.

“You make me feel energized, Mag,” Johan admitted to Magenta. “When I see you, I feel like I could run around the world.”

Magenta wrapped his arms tighter around him, unable to talk, melting in his skin.

“I love you, you know,” Johan whispered. Magenta flushed, wriggling under him. Johan smiled. “Mi amor. Mi rey. Mi cariño. Mi precioso.”

Every endearment brought Magenta further and further to an unknowing bliss, each word a direct, loving blow to his heart, dissolving him.

When he finally managed to fall asleep, Johan curled up on his chest, wrapping the blanket around them tighter.

“Merci, mon amour,” he whispered, kissing his cheek, a soft smirk tweaking his lips as he put emphasis on the pronoun. Magenta stirred, a smile lifting the corners of his own mouth.

“De nada,” he breathed, his arms squeezing lightly.

Johan smiled, yawned, and fell asleep.

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8/10 (226 votes) - Download Age of Empires 3 Free. Download and play Age of Empires 3 on your PC and enjoy the full game collection the Asian expansions and the revolution of Amerindian civilizations. Jun 16, 2018 If you’re into the RTS genre and enjoy games like Age of Empires, you might also appreciate downloading Starcraft for free for Mac and Windows which is another free blast from the past, and if you’re a Blizzard fan you might also like installing Warcraft 3 on the Mac which still works great if you download the latest version from Blizzard. Aug 04, 2016 Age of Empires is a civilization-building strategy game with few competitors. Last update 4 Aug. 2016 Licence Free to try OS Support Mac.

Age of Empires 4 is the strategy game that mix the wonderful clicks of this War-Craft with the technical modernization of this civilization, combining them in a real-time strategy video game bigger, more intense and smarter than most of its competitors. Age of Empires IV has been developed at the studios of Relic Entertainment.

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Age of Empires IV certainly has some sort situations, landscapes, characters, cultures, creatures and modalities. In more diverse and bigger maps, the visual effects would be certainly enriched by having a range of units. Scenarios, inhabited by buildings and characters of various shapes, have certainly benefited from the graphic enhancement. More elements that act on screen — waves in motion, more energy, furrowed by a wide range of ships plains adorned by areas and chunks, flocks of animals moving, waiting to be slaughtered for supplies.

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Age of Empires IV on PC is a strategy game that belongs to the strategy saga that is famed. You will be able to get involved in conflicts with armies owning their particular traits. Empires will rise, history will be made — this is actually the motto of the epic game. Playing with this strategy game will provide you the experience it has been giving since years by the time of its sequels. Each time it provides the impression that you are fighting to your empire.

PC Requirements

OS: Windows 7 SP1 with Platform Update. Processor: AMD FX-4350, 4.2 GHz / Intel Core i5- 2300, 2.80 GHz. Memory: 6 GB RAM. Graphics: AMD HD 7870, 2 GB – Nvidia GTX 660 2 GB. DirectX: Version 11. Storage: 40 GB available space. Sound Card: Any. Internet Connection: Any.

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When talking about strategy games Age of Empires II has to be one of the most played of all time. It was first released in 1997 and it has been growing ever since. There are over ten different titles, but all of them have something in common: you are in command of a civilization and you are responsible for making it thrive and conquer. The storylines are based on history and cover almost 10,000 years starting from the Stone Age.

The second installment of this game (The Age of Empires II: The Age of Kings) comes with new maps and other added features. You can choose between playing on your own (against the computer) or be joining in a multiplayer experience that will let you test your skills as a leader of any of the civilizations included in the game, 13 in total. This version covers a historic period that goes from the fall of the Roman Empire up to the Middle Ages.

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Years after the release of the original one an HD version was created just for Steam. This means that it includes new features like the possibility of adding content created by you or others from the Steam Workshop.

Of course, this is not a newly released game and as such you might find its graphics and some features a bit dated, but if you can dismiss that you’ll surely spend quite a few hours discovering and enjoying its possibilities. Also, a piece of good news in that respect, Microsoft just announced it will release renewed versions of Age of Empires II and III. This will surely bring back some of the old fans eager to get a firsthand view and find out if they have indeed improved on the classic games.

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Don’t rely solely on combat and confrontation; you can also use diplomacy to help your civilization advance.

Use trade as an economy boosting alternative. Engage in commercial exchanges that work to your advantage.

Each civilization has distinctive architecture and technology. Find out what sets them apart and learn the particulars of each one, like their different forms of combat.

It includes maps of the real world.

Great multiplayer experience.

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Be one with history, choose one of the campaigns that are based on historical characters and walk in the shoes of the likes of Genghis Khan or William Wallace.

There are many ways to play and win the game; there is even a pacifist option. You don’t have to exterminate anyone to win; you just need to complete a wonder before everyone else does.

The HD version of the game includes options that are Steam specific like access to features from the workshop or matchmaking.

System Requirements

For the PC version of the game you’re required to have the following:

Windows XP or later.

At least 1GB of available RAM.

DirectX 9.0

2GB of available hard disk space for the install.

A processor with speed 1.2 GHz or higher.

Pricing

As with almost everything else in life, the price depends on the vendor. The PC version of Age of Empire II: The Age of Kings sells for USD 24.99. You can also get the gold edition of the game (also for PC) for USD 33.99.

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Pros

It’s a great real-time strategy game. You will find yourself learning the particulars of every civilization to use it in your favor.

There isn’t just one way to play or win it, you can find different alternatives depending on the civilization you’re playing with and the style of play that you choose.

With the release of the HD version, which was released for Steam, you can take advantage of some features as matchmaking.

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When you compare it to more recently released games, you’ll find that the graphics look really dated.

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As it happens with games that have been around for so long and that have such a massive fan base, this is one of the cult games around. A leader on its category and also among games in general, this might not be the most recent version (Age of Empires III was also released) but you can still find people developing modes for this one. The fact that the mere announcement that a “remastered” version would be released raises so much interest should give you an idea of how popular this game really is.

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Granted, it doesn’t have the best graphics around, especially considering how far we’ve come in that respect in recent years. Also, there have been complaints about bugs in the first releases, but if you can get passed all of that you will find that this is a very enjoyable and entertaining game that will provide hours of fun while wiping out entire civilizations on the way.

An appealing feature that was included in this release was being able to take on the persona of a historic character. Wouldn’t you like to lead your troops as William Wallace? That is just one of the options that you get. Also in this version the more diplomatic pacifist gameplay; you can win by using your engineering abilities and finishing a wonder before everyone else instead of just vanishing them from the face of the Earth. You can even use your trading capabilities to win games, so it’s not only about pure military power; there are different nuances that will make every playing session different from the one before.

As we mentioned above, a new version of this game is on the works. This is the kind of things that happen when you have a product that even years after its original release maintains its following. Now you have a choice, if you have never played before, you can either get started with the original version or wait for the new one and find out what Microsoft will do to give this beloved game a refreshed look. This move will sure make it current again and we will have Age of Empires II for years to come.

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Wifikill

Download the WifiKill No Root APK, by clicking here. Install the App on your android phone. Restart your Android Device & Reconnect to Wifi. Enjoy using the app now! There are also many alternatives to the app which allow us to monitor our wifi network and kick users without rooting the phone. Using WifiKill without Root. When WiFiKill PRO APK FREE is running and your mobile is connected to a public wifi network, this app will make other devices in the same network think that your device is a router. So they will try to connect to the internet through you. WiFiKill then drops the connections of these other devices easily.

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You can easily kill the devices which are using your WiFi using WifiKill software for PC. In this post, we will discuss what is WifiKill, how to download WifiKill for PC and how to use WifiKill on PC.

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What is WifiKill for PC

Features of WifiKill for PC

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Requirements to use WifiKill on PC

How to install and use WifiKill on PC

Contents

3 NetCut WifiKill for PC Features

5 How to install NetCut WifiKill for PC

What is WifiKill for PC?

WifiKill is an application which you can use on your android devices to stop others to use your WiFi for PC. It is one of the best WiFi controller app for any android phone. You can download the WifiKill app from Google Play or you can also download from the link given in the later section. The latest version is 2.3.2 and I have provided here the APK of the software.

WifiKill was developed by XDA app developer and has been proven as one of the best apps to reduce bandwidth misuse of the internet. You can also monitor the data uses of your connection by various devices connected. Here are the details of the WifiKill APK software-

Package Name: Netcut for PC.rar

Version: 2.3.2 (2032)

Size: 2.46 MB

Supported OS: All versions of Windows operating system

MD5: f54ad796016ec35bceefde9fc5e10cc7

There is only one issue while downloading and installing this WifiKill software on your android device. It requires the rooting of your android phone. And the drawback of rooting is, your warranty will no longer be valid.

And so, I personally don’t suggest rooting the android phone. The alternative is, to use NetCut. You can easily install and operate Netcut on any windows system.

And that is the reason, in this post of WifiKill for PC download, we have tried to cover the steps to download and install NetCut WifiKill on Windows PC for free.

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Netcut is another free software for windows system that can help you kill any device from using your WiFi connection. The software is run perfectly on the new operating systems like- Windows 10, 8, 8.1, and 7.

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I have already told that out of all available WifiKill for pc download, NetCut WifiKill is the best. Let’s see some of its features so that you can use the most.

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Before you move to download WifiKill for pc, let’s check if you have the requirements needed in your system to install this software.

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WifiKill software for PC is simple software and a lightweight as well (just around 2MB). You can download this from the link given and install it like you do for any other windows software.

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As you have downloaded WifiKill for PC, let’s understand how to install the downloaded software. Just follow the below steps to install the software.

Locate the downloaded software in your PC. Ideally, it should be in your system download folder Extract this file and you will find an installer file there • Now simply double click on it and it should open a dialog box like below-

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Wrapping it up!

These were the detailed guide on WifiKill for PC download, install, and use. You can easily kill the connected devices from your WiFi network.

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everybody wants to rule the world [1/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air. 

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 9.8k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

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“This is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” With a dramatic groan, Peter threw himself down onto his mattress like a ragdoll, limbs sprawled out far enough that he could almost touch all the corners of his enormous four-poster bed. “And I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve had some pretty bad ones myself.”

“At least you’re acknowledgin’ it. And maybe ol’ Ego’s doing you a favor. Not like any girl’s gonna wanna marry you of her own free will,” Yondu teased. He leaned over Peter’s motionless form and gently poked him in the gut with the back end of his yaka arrow. “Quit whinin’, boy, you don’t even know what she’s like yet.”

“It don’t matter what she’s like,” Peter mumbled. His voice was muffled by the mountain of gold-fringed pillows he was currently face-planted in. Ego sure did have an affinity for decorating every square inch of everything - ever - in gold. Even Peter wasn’t this ostentatious. “She could be the most amazing woman in the entire galaxy, and I’d still hate this. I mean, what is this, the medieval ages? Do I have to joust some other dudes to win her hand or somethin’? Because from what I’ve heard about her, I think she’d rather kick my ass instead.”

“I understand just about none of what came outta your mouth just now.” Yondu sat at the foot of the bed, resting a hand on Peter’s ankle in sympathy, then immediately regretting it when he noticed Peter was entirely barefoot. “But you gotta suck it up, Quill. You fight your daddy on this, he gonna string you up like vermin, get you with that ‘light’ of his. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Peter turned slowly, propping himself up on his elbow. “D’you...do you think he’d make Mantis do it instead if I didn’t?” He sat up very suddenly, wrapping his arms around his knees, staring off listlessly into the distance. All he could see was his sweet, upbeat little sister, being forced into something she wouldn’t be able to escape, all because he decided to be a little selfish. No, he couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not to her. “Crap. I really do have to do this, don’t I?”

“If you’re asking me as your advisor, I’m telling ya, marrying this girl means an alliance with the Titans, and that’s a good thing. Get some of the most powerful forces in the entire galaxy on our side.” Yondu let out a slow exhale, shooting Peter a rueful smile. “If you’re asking me as your friend, I’m tellin’ you, now’s not the time to argue. Pick your battles, boy. In due time, we’ll be able to get you offa this cursed planet for good.” He grinned wider in what Peter suspected was meant to be in reassurance - though his gold teeth were only adding to the garish decor of Peter’s quarters - before standing and striding over to the door. As he was leaving, he turned to call, “Your girl’s gonna be here in two days, alright? So buck up! Maybe she’ll be more interesting than ya think.” ______

“Do you know why I’ve called you here, Gamora?”

Her dark eyes fixated on the back of the makeshift throne, zeroed in on the crevice by the crease of his elbow, a sight she had become so accustomed to that it was practically burned into her eyelids. “No, Father. Do enlighten me.”

“You watch your tone with me, girl, or you’ll force my hand.” The throne slowly began to rotate, the shadows moving across Thanos’s face to partially conceal the near-permanent scowl he was currently sporting. She flinched a little at the sight of the Infinity Gauntlet, fingers tapping idly on the armrest as if it were nothing more than a common glove. “It has been a long time coming, but we have finally made an agreement with the Celestials. You will be descending upon Ego in two days.”

“And what task do you have for me this time? And who will be accompanying me? My last job under Ronan did not end so well, through no fault of my own,” she added, folding her hands neatly behind her back, fingers intertwined. She hoped he couldn’t detect the way they were trembling. Shoulders back, chin up, she mentally reminded herself, as Thanos finally came into full view.

“Ronan was unworthy of calling himself an accomplice of mine. A subordinate, maybe. Vermin, more like. I had him taken care of,” he replied, grinning rather maniacally, though his eyes remained as coldly emotionless as ever. “Your task, Gamora, is to wed the Celestial prince.”

Gamora blinked. She wasn’t sure how else to respond. Had she fallen through some sort of wormhole and noticed? Stepped into an alternate dimension, perhaps? “I apologize, Father, but I believe I’ve misheard you,” she said slowly. “You want me to what?”

“Ego believes we have the completed Infinity Gauntlet, and I’m not about to correct him,” Thanos continued as if he hadn’t heard her. He held up his arm, turning his wrist slowly as if to admire the artifact, despite the fact it was currently empty. “And his Celestial abilities...they intrigue me. But we have never been able to come to terms until now, when we agreed on your marriage to his son. His only son, with Celestial abilities of his own, I might add. We’ll work together in the beginning, of course, so I can observe what he can do and how to dismantle him. Then, you and Nebula will slaughter Ego, and force the son to use his powers for our means.”

“There must be another way to do this,” Gamora protested, abandoning all pretense of her posture, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Why marriage? How could a wedding possibly benefit us? Am I not meant for more than this, Father? This seems below me...below everything you have prepared me for.”

“You think so little of marriage, do you?” Thanos sneered, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. For a moment, she felt like a small child again, thoroughly chastised for not being quick or clever enough. “This marriage is for political gain, for trust. We have to be smart about this. Not everything can be won by force, but by cleverness. It’s time you learned that. Your attitude is abhorrent, Gamora. And you will go to Ego in two days’ time.”

“And if I don’t?” She folded her arms across her chest, staring up at him, stance defiant. He only chuckled in response.

“Then I will send Nebula in your place.” With that, he turned away from her, but not before giving her one last horrendously unsettling smirk. ______

Peter was half-sprawled across his seat in the palace’s throne room, one leg hooked up over the armrest, his elbow on his knee, using his fist to prop up his head. He had been sitting here for at least two hours, and was irreversibly, undeniably, dreadfully bored.

“I see Dad couldn’t be bothered to show up,” he grumbled, looking over to Yondu. He immediately felt bad for complaining - at least he was sitting down. Yondu, as always, was standing by his side, though he had abandoned proper stance long ago, leaning against the throne so casually one would think it was his.

“You know he don’t care that much about all this business. He expects you to be the one to receive your future wife,” Yondu shrugged. “And it ain’t like her daddy’s coming with, so why should he hafta be here?”

“Because this is boring as hell!” Peter exclaimed a little too loudly, his voice echoing off the walls and ceilings of the enormous chamber. He shrunk a little in his seat at the sound. “I almost want Thanos to show up at this point. Can’t make things any worse, right?”

“Please, Peter.” Mantis reached for him from her throne, delicately setting her hand down on his forearm, wrapping her fingers around him and squeezing. “Be patient. I believe I can already sense their presence. There is much emotional turmoil in the air, something I do not usually feel.”

“What do you mean, ‘they’? I thought it was just her. And no one’s even told me her name yet, by the way,” Peter added.

“She brought an entourage of her own, of course,” Yondu said, baffled at Peter’s ignorance. “And hell, I don’t even know her name. Ego didn’t tell me shit, and I’m not about to start asking. She’ll introduce herself, I’m sure.”

As if on cue, the giant doors of the throne room swung open to reveal, to Peter’s surprise, just two young women, entirely alone aside from being escorted in by Kraglin, the palace’s head of the guard. He quickly sat up in his seat, leaning forward to get a better look as they began striding towards him.

Peter had, of course, heard about the Titans before. They weren’t so much a kingdom in the traditional sense as they were a dictator-led regime, what with all their leader’s adoptive children (the loose definition of ‘adopted’, anyway) being suited more for the battlefield than for any castle. So, he wasn’t surprised to see both women were decked out in full armor from head to toe, with leather padding at their shoulders, elbows, and knees, complete with hooded duster capes and masks that obscured the entire lower half of their faces. They were both relatively tall, at least six feet in height in their combat boots, an unparalleled fierceness in their dark eyes as they approached the elevated platform.

The herald, the poor brave soul, quickly stepped in front of them before they could get too close, and loudly announced, “Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, of the Celestial throne.” Peter couldn’t help but cringe at the descriptor - he hated hearing it, every single time, without fail. It might have sounded cool the first time he had been addressed in such a manner, when he was eight and the idea of being a prince had excited him to no end, but now it just felt oddly presumptuous, and moreover, undeserving.

“Your highnesses,” Peter said as calmly as he could, though inside, his heart was racing with anticipation. He bowed his head in grace. “Forgive the informality - we don’t usually have guests. And by usually, I mean never. So, uh. Hi.” He could practically hear Yondu face-palming beside him. “Um, introduce yourselves. Please.”

The women exchanged dubious looks, carrying out an astonishingly long wordless conversation with just their eyes to the point of making Peter squirm, until they finally turned back towards Peter and Mantis, their gaze considering. In near-perfect synchronicity, they pushed their hoods away and pulled their masks down around their necks, fully revealing their faces. The green-skinned girl took another step forward, her dark ponytail swinging slightly as she did. “My name is Gamora, daughter of Thanos, heir to the Titan throne, and your supposed future wife.” Her lip curled in distaste at the last one.

“Are you technically a princess?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. Mantis elbowed him in warning.

“That may be part of my title, but I am no princess,” she retorted, a hint of a snarl in her voice. She gestured at the other girl, who looked equally as irritable, sporting a rather impressive scowl. “This is my sister, Nebula.” Nebula grunted in what Peter supposed was meant to be a greeting.

“Hello!” Mantis said as cheerfully as she could muster, though even she looked hesitant about the whole ordeal. It didn’t help that both Gamora and Nebula were resting their free hand over the weapons holstered at their hips - Gamora appeared to have a sword, while Nebula had a pair of electrified blades. Nebula in particular looked like she was itching to use them. “Welcome to the planet Ego. Our father is a bit busy at the moment, as he is tending to some business off-planet, but I am sure we can work out all the details of this arrangement by ourselves.”

“This is a farce,” Nebula snapped very suddenly. “I’ve seen black market dealings more tightly run than this sham of a kingdom. What makes you so special?”

In lieu of answering, a rumble began rippling through the ground, causing Gamora and Nebula to tip precariously, stumbling over their own feet as they yanked out their weapons. A beam of white light shot out of the floor beneath them, spinning and twirling like a ballerina.

“I believe this is what you wanted to see, isn’t it? The Celestial power? So here. I bring you a peace offering,” Peter said patiently.

The beam of light came to a stop a few feet in front of the girls, flipping over to reveal two beautifully carved marble blades, the handles turned towards them. Cautiously, Gamora took a hesitant step forward before picking one up, surprised to find it quite light despite its notoriously heavy substance. She glanced back at Nebula, who also looked unusually aghast at the display.

“What is this really made of?” Gamora said suspiciously, looking up at Peter.

He chuckled, finally getting to his feet and making his way down the steps of the elevated platform. As he did, she could finally get a better look at his face - she knew nothing about him aside from his name, knew he possessed the Celestial genes of his father. Peter appeared to be younger than she initially thought - she’d heard all sorts of unappetizing stories about women even younger than she was getting married off to men at least twice their age - but he appeared to be no older than nineteen or twenty at the very most, like herself. He was handsome, she supposed, tall and broad, artfully disheveled with his haphazardly wind-blown hair and roguish, yet perfectly sculpted stubble. He was wearing a deep red, floor-sweeping leather cape over what looked to be otherwise normal clothes - a snug-fitting long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans - as if he had no inclination to keep up the appearances required of his title. He was unlike any other royalty she had ever seen, though admittedly, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to begin with.

“Some sort of compound I came up with myself. I dunno the science behind it, but it’s nice, right?” he grinned. The warmth of his voice was a little unsettling. “So. Let’s cut the crap about me sitting up there while you guys stand down here. I feel like I’m literally looking down on you guys. Dinner? You hungry?”

“As long as one of your people taste-test each of our dishes in front of us to prove its lack of poison,” Gamora returned, eyes narrowing, though he couldn’t help but notice her tucking the marble blade into her belt alongside the plethora of other weapons she had stowed with her. “This is an arrangement of professionalism. Not friendship. So lead the way.” ______

Peter and Mantis were somewhat surprised when Gamora and Nebula swept into the dining hall accompanied by three other figures they hadn’t seen before - an incredibly muscular man (perhaps too muscular, in Peter’s opinion) with swirling red tattoos all over his greenish-grey skin, a creature that looked to be an exact replica of a Terran raccoon, and a...tree?

“Drax and Groot lead our security detail, not that we need one,” Gamora smirked in response to Peter’s confused glance. “Rocket is our...aide. That’s his official title, at least. He mostly helps with our weaponry and tech. Father doesn’t know he’s here with us, however. It’s best he doesn’t know at all.”

“Ri-i-ight.” Peter decided it was best not to ask any more questions, instead gesturing for everyone to take a seat. He sort of hated the dining hall - like the rest of Ego’s palace, it consisted of glittering gold walls and floors, floor-to-ceiling curving windows, towering arches and columns covered in ornate patterns, and yet the very barest of furniture - just the excessively long table, enough chairs to seat fifty quite comfortably, and a few potted alien plants in the corners. They almost never ate here, considering how over-the-top it all was, but after Nebula’s biting remark, he wanted to at least try to provide some hospitality, or more accurately, show off just a little bit. His pride was at stake here, after all. “Would you like to discuss the terms of our, uh, arrangement over dinner, or would you rather leave it for another time?”

“Leaving it for another time requires us to remain in each other’s presence for longer than we need to.” Gamora pursed her lips. “Does that sound ideal to you?”

He frowned, offended. “Hey, I’m not a huge fan of this, either, but you don’t have to be hostile. If we wanna make this work, we gotta act like adults.”

“You really are unlike any other regime we’ve ever come across,” Gamora snorted. “The informality of both your reception and your speech are hardly good starting points for negotiations.”

Before Peter could open his mouth with what he was sure to be a clever comeback, the servants entered with trays of appetizers, setting them down delicately in front of each person and removing the cloches with a flourish. To his surprise, the guests appeared truly impressed for the first time, oddly fixated on the food for all of five seconds before they started digging in with great enthusiasm. “I dunno what this is, but it’s way better than what they served on Sanctuary,” Rocket said between bites, practically letting it spill out of his mouth as he spoke. Mantis wrinkled her nose a little in disgust.

“All our food is grown here,” Peter replied, smiling a little uncertainly. He was still unused to looking at Rocket and Groot especially. Having encountered many a strange alien every now and then, it was odd to see creatures that strongly resembled Terran biology. It made him ache for a brief moment in memory of his home planet.

They were mostly silent throughout the appetizer, something Peter and Mantis found uneasy. They usually ate alone together in one of the smaller sitting rooms whenever Ego wasn’t home, chatting excitedly about their days. Peter especially liked talking, was even considered to be relatively good at it. As far as his people were concerned, it was made him a more personable leader, made them feel like they were talking to a friend instead of their ruler.

By the time they got to the main course, Peter finally spoke again, as he could stand the quiet no longer. “What’s it like, being a Titan?” He glanced around at the others, hoping that one of them, any of them, would reply. The tree didn’t seem too talkative - he had enthusiastically introduced himself a few times when they had first walked in, but since then had just been sitting in silence, a pleasant (if a little vacant) smile on his face. Nebula hadn’t said a word since she yelled at him earlier, and Drax seemed content on stuffing his face with as much food as possible in the shortest amount of time.

“Does it have bearing on our arrangement?” Gamora returned easily.

“Well...no. I was just making conversation.” His eyes narrowed a little. Was she really that disinterested in talking about anything other than their so-called marriage? It was like pulling teeth with her.

Twisting her mouth in displeasure once more, Gamora slammed her fork and knife down on the table. “Fine. You really want to know what it’s like, being a leader of Titan? Nebula and I were taken from our homes as children, raised to be weapons of mass destruction. We were taught how to kill another being in a hundred different ways by the age of ten, have slaughtered both criminals and innocents by the dozens on never-ending paths of terror. Our beds are rock, and our insides are steel. We are no princesses, like your sister here. We are warriors.” Gamora got to her feet, her chair sliding abruptly across the floor with an uncomfortable screech, and promptly stormed out, her hair and her cape swishing behind her.

“Well done,” Nebula said sarcastically after a moment of stunned silence. “You really are as useless as you look.” She stood as if to go after her sister, but Mantis got there first, holding out a hand towards Nebula in warning.

“I will take care of it,” she said, her voice low. For the first time since the Titans’ arrival, her antennae began to glow, bending towards Nebula in a hypnotizing dance. Slowly, in a dream-like state, Nebula sank back down into her chair, her usually narrowed dark eyes now blown wide with fear. “Do not leave this room.”

Once Mantis had left the room in pursuit of Gamora, Nebula shook herself a little, the fog lifting from her head. “What was that?” she hissed. “What did she do to me?”

“Don’t underestimate my sister,” Peter said, tilting his chin somewhat triumphantly. “Mantis is an empath. I’m sorry it had to come to that - she never uses her powers without permission - but we don’t exactly condone violence here. Dad doesn’t want us to ruin the lovely decor.”

A few awkward minutes later, with everyone banging their cutlery and cups a little louder to cover for the silence, Mantis returned with Gamora in tow, who also looked just as abashed as her sister had. “I realize my outburst was unhelpful in continuing our discussion,” she said, returning to her seat. “If we are truly to carry out this...arrangement of our respective fathers, then we need to at least know the very basics about each other. So please, tell me about yourself and your kingdom.”

Smiling easily, it was now Peter’s turn to put his fork down. “Well, for starters, it’s not really a kingdom? This planet is Ego himself. The humanoid form you’ll be meeting is more of an avatar, a physical body he uses to communicate with people. He used to be entirely alone out here until he found Mantis when she was a baby, orphaned on her homeworld. Me, I was born on Terra. I lived with my mom until I was eight, didn’t even know my dad wasn’t human. She...died, of cancer, and Dad sent Yondu to pick me up and bring me here. After he convinced me to stay, I managed to convince him it would be easier to maintain the planet and his creations if there were people living here, doing some honest work. So we looked for people like Mantis who had been lost, looking for purpose. Ever since then, the place has really become its own. We have a population of two billion people from all over the galaxy. They aren’t really Celestials - the only living Celestials, as far as we know, are me and Dad - but we kinda call them that because there really isn’t another name to give ‘em.”

“It appeared quite vacant when we first arrived,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. The tightness in her voice was fading away in favor of curiosity. “This territory...is it only for your family?”

“Yes,” Mantis said, nodding enthusiastically. She, too, had lost the hardness in her eyes from confronting Nebula earlier. “The only civilians allowed in this area are those who work in the palace.”

“And what of their families?” Gamora prompted. “They must live quite far away from here, then.”

Peter and Mantis exchanged nervous looks. “Most of them don’t really...have family,” Peter said tentatively. “The ones who work here are usually the ones who have already lost their families. We find that giving them work renews their outlook on life, despite the fact that their loved ones are gone.” Drax twitched so suddenly that Peter was almost certain he had imagined it. “Many of them manage to find new families in those they work with - friends, significant others. And if they have children, they’re allowed to live in their parents’ quarters in the palace. I know we might seem disorganized, but I promise, it’s just because we haven’t been around for very long. We don’t have the centuries of history that other kingdoms have, but we kinda have an idea of what worked and what didn’t by observing others.”

“And your father never uses his abilities on your people?” Nebula quirked an eyebrow in doubt. “I don’t believe that.”

“Only for good. We provide what we can,” Peter nodded. “Dad does most of it, though it kinda drains him. He usually gets Mantis to use her powers to help keep him sane. Me, I’m still not great at it. I’ve only got about ten years of experience under my belt. Still learning.”

“Interesting,” Gamora drawled, leaning back in her chair. She pulled the marble blade from her belt, holding it up to eye level briefly before pressing its tip into the surface of the dining table, twirling it with one finger resting on the hilt. “We’ve been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Heard tales of the Celestials, what they were capable of. Rumors, of what they could do. What they might do, given the chance.”

“If you’re implying that my dad’s doing something wrong - ” Peter began, but Gamora interrupted him instantly.

“I’m in no position to judge. Look at our father,” she said with a derisive snort. “Look at what he’s asked of me. And let’s not be naive here, Peter Quill. Thanos and Ego didn’t set this up to play matchmaker. They want to unite our powers. They want something far beyond anything we could imagine alone. The real question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Do about it?” Peter echoed rather dumbly.

“Absolute power,” she said slowly, leaning across the table (well, as best she could. It was unreasonably wide) to stare him down. “Do we let it happen, or do we make it go away entirely?”

“Well, this conversation just took a turn,” Yondu commented dryly, the first time he had spoken since dinner started. Gamora and Nebula were surprised to see him speak out of turn, but Peter, as always, only poked him in retaliation before turning back to observe the girls.

Before Peter could properly gather his thoughts, the servers came back to remove their plates and bring out dessert, elaborate puddings and cakes topped with heaps of fruit and sugary crystalline structures. It was the bare bones of a distraction, though, as he instead began to wonder what the Titans had really come here for. Gamora’s words implied that she wanted to go against Thanos, to stop him before it was too late. He wasn’t sure whether to interpret Nebula’s silence as agreeance, or at least, compliance, but she seemed to be something of a wildcard, guided more by self-preservation than logic. And okay, Peter knew that his dad wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, either - there were places he and Mantis were never allowed to go within spitting distance of, and they’d been punished by the light before, enough times for Peter to comfortably refer to it as abuse (in his mind, anyway. There was no telling what would happen if he said it out loud). But was it enough to justify defiance? Or, more accurately, treason? Was it treason?

“What are you proposing here, then? I’m guessing it’s not marriage,” Peter said, half-teasing, though his insides were beginning to twist unpleasantly at her insinuations.

Gamora cast yet another glance at Nebula, who nodded sharply at her in a surprising show of support. When she looked back at Peter and spoke once more, he was surprised to hear a hint of desperation in her voice for the first time. “I’m proposing an alliance, between my people and yours, that do not involve our respective fathers, before anyone gets hurt,” she said. “You have no idea the kind of horrors Thanos will unleash upon this universe, should he succeed in his plans.”

“And what is his plan?” Peter felt Yondu place a hand on his arm in warning, but he shook him off. He wanted to hear this, wanted to know where this was going.

“To pretend that this marriage is only that,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble. “We are to observe your father, find out the full potential of a Celestial and how to use it to our advantage. Then, kill him to take control of this planet, and manipulate you into working for us.”

Peter, stunned into silence, felt his spoon slip between his fingers. The clattering sound it made upon striking the bottom of his bowl only intensified the persistent ringing in his ears. Heart racing, his eyes flickered over towards Yondu, who had also frozen at Gamora’s admittance. “Mantis?” Yondu finally said. “What do ya think, girl?”

Mantis cocked her head in observance, her face utterly blank aside from her eyes roaming Gamora’s face, her antennae moving gently as if to bow to the other girl. “She is speaking the truth,” she finally said. “Thanos does intend on killing Father. Or rather, having her kill Father.”

“Then they should know our truth,” Peter said, standing abruptly.

“Don’t be stupid, Quill,” Yondu warned, once again reaching for his arm and getting shaken off instantly. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air in defeat and leaned back. “It’s your funeral, boy.”

“You speak quite freely for a subordinate,” Drax interjected. “Have you no respect for your master?”

“Oh, so you do talk!” Yondu retorted.

“Only when it is required of me,” Drax replied irritably. “I see no use in yammering on like a schoolchild, with nothing of importance to say.”

“That would imply what you just said was useful!”

“Hey, leave Drax alone,” Rocket snapped, jumping up onto his chair and pounding a fist on the table, rattling the dishes around him. “What the hell is this ‘our truth’ business about, Quill?”

“Do not talk to him like that,” Mantis snapped, her antennae angling themselves towards Rocket as she, too, shot out of her seat. “You will address him as ‘your highness’ or ‘Prince Peter’ - ”

“No, don’t - everyone just shut up!” Peter yelled. Silence immediately fell across the table. He wasn’t sure when everyone else had stood up. “You guys need to know...if Dad dies, this planet dies too. Everyone on it dies. Children...families. And I’ll lose my Celestial powers.”

“Quill!” Yondu hissed, but Peter only flapped a hand at him to shut him up.

“The only way that your dad can get what he wants…” Peter trailed off, hesitant to finish the sentence. He wasn’t liking his odds.

“...is if we kill you instead,” Gamora finished, sinking back down. “Hit your father where it hurts, but not lose the chance for a Celestial slave. Well, we’re not doing that.”

“Really?” Peter exclaimed before he could stop himself. After her whole spiel about her and Nebula being experienced killers, he almost expected them to take him down where he stood.

She glared daggers at him in return. Okay, fair. It did sound rather judgemental, now that he thought about it. “Does it look like Nebula and I want to carry out Thanos’s plans? We’ve been discussing what to do while on our journey here, and we’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to prevent certain death is to work with you. To stop Thanos from committing genocide with your father’s powers.”

“You’re kidding.” Peter looked once again to Mantis, who shook her head in affirmation. “You know, a little warning would’ve been real helpful. And what were you gonna do if Dad was here?”

“I would have asked for a private meeting,” Gamora said, shrugging. Her face softened. “Quill, please, don’t make me beg. Billions will perish if we choose not to interfere. If we do nothing, we are helping Thanos succeed. We are helping him hurt people...torture them...in the ways that he did to us.” To illustrate Gamora’s point, Nebula wordlessly lifted her arm, disengaging her robotic hand to demonstrate the cybernetics inside, the twists and turns of the wiring and metal that now made up the majority of her body.

Once again, Peter found himself speechless, unsure of what to say, as he fixated on Nebula’s display of vulnerability. “Listen, I...I don’t know what you were expecting from me. Because you’re asking a lot here, and I’m no hero. But...if I can help...if we can help…” Mantis nodded encouragingly, though Yondu continued to look concerned. “...then we’ll do what we can,” he finished, giving Gamora a weak smile in return. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Gamora finally smiled as well, a genuine warmth beginning to spread across her face. Peter’s breath hitched a little at the sight. “Well, first of all…” ______

“You must be crazy,” Nebula said snidely, half-stomping into the bathroom without warning, hopping up onto the counter - gold-laced marble, of course, to match the rest of the garish decor.

Gamora barely glanced away from the mirror, still vigorously brushing her teeth. Admittedly, she hadn’t felt this clean in months - her last mission had her hiding out in the lush forests of Dervani, and Sanctuary lacked the facilities that Ego’s palace boasted in spades. It was refreshing to not have a thin layer of ash covering her skin for once. “What is it this time?”

“After all that, you’re still going to marry that idiot?” Nebula scoffed. She picked up one of the bars of soap from the bathroom counter, snorting when she realized it was in the shape of a rose.

“I already explained this to you.” Gamora let out a long-suffering sigh. “We can’t give away our betrayal to Thanos until the opportune moment strikes to kill him, once and for all. We must pretend for everyone’s sake that Quill and I are oblivious to his and Ego’s plans. And Quill, he isn’t as naive as I expected, but he seems quite adequate at pretending to be. We just have to pretend we don’t care.”

“And I don’t,” Nebula snapped. Gamora shot her a dirty look in response. “Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do,” she said, relenting. “Still, you’re really going to follow through with this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Gamora rinsed her mouth, taking a moment to observe her reflection. And really, they didn’t. ‘Only choice’ - an oxymoron. It was a risk, saying anything at all, assuming that Peter, Mantis, and Yondu were indeed going to keep to their word, and not go to Ego and tell him of her plans. But despite the dubious nature of their kingdom, its undecided role in the cosmos, she felt like she could trust them. Either that, or all three of them were incredibly gifted actors. “We’re trapped, Nebula. If we choose to look the other way, the entire universe could get wiped out. If I refuse to marry Quill, Thanos will begin with killing us. We must take the narrowest path, and navigate with great caution - I marry Quill, we remain here on this planet and work with our new allies. When Thanos decides to strike, that’s when we take him down, and escape our old lives. Forever.”

“I do like the sound of that,” Nebula admitted. “Though you seem rather optimistic about being able to take down our father despite having no idea how to do so.”

“Someone has to be,” Gamora murmured. “The other three are about as confident in my plans as you are. Though I can’t say I’m enthused myself - Quill seems competent, but his attitude worries me. And I don’t know how rational he’ll be in battle, but...I was quite rash earlier myself. I don’t like disclosing our histories to just about anyone.”

“Well, he’s not just about anyone, he’s your future husband,” Nebula said with a smirk. “Let’s just agree that you’re both crazy. What a match made in heaven.” ______

The next morning, Peter found himself pacing up and down his study, nerves rapidly fraying, glancing at the clock every so often as if it were going to make a difference. He had arranged to have a private meeting with Gamora, but she was already ten minutes late. Had something happened to her? Or, more likely, did she decide not to come after all? He could practically hear Yondu’s voice in his head - “Quit pacin’, boy, you’re gonna wear holes in that carpet!” - but he couldn’t help but worry.

Gamora had certainly turned out to be more - complex wasn’t quite the right word, but he wasn’t sure what else was - than he thought. Peter was familiar with Thanos’s reputation, knew of the great and terrible horrors he had committed across the galaxy. Ego had chosen to look the other way, as he often did (“We can’t concern ourselves with the affairs of others, Peter, they’re far beyond our help”), but every single time he heard of yet another devastating event, Peter couldn’t help but think about what he could have done, had he been there. He had truly meant it when he told the others yesterday that he was no hero. He used his powers for menial tasks - lifting heavy objects, creating things out of thin air, reaching for the television remote when he couldn’t be bothered to get up. He knew he could be capable of so much more, though he couldn’t help but blame Ego a little bit for holding him back.

But yes, back to Gamora. She was intimidating, that was for sure. Almost frightening at times, the way she held herself, and he still had yet to see her famous fighting prowess. There were stories of her that transcended the entirety of space - daughter of Thanos, the deadliest woman in the galaxy, so on and so forth - but he had never heard her actual name until now. Seeing her in person, he was admittedly in awe. She was constantly in control - even when she had stormed off, the entire room had fallen silent, as if her presence commanded everyone to look and listen to her without her ever having to actually ask. There was true power behind every move she made, every word she spoke. Secretly, Peter also found her quite beautiful - captivating, even, but he was most impressed by her show of humanity. He would never have expected it from a person with her reputation, but maybe that was what made it all the more genuine. Her concern for others, her insistence on saving them, was a sign of maturity that Peter couldn’t have anticipated.

His musings were interrupted when the doors of his study abruptly swung open. Gamora stood tall, in a lesser version of her armor (though still no less impressive), sans cape. “This palace is impossible to navigate,” she informed him haughtily.

“Hello to you too,” Peter said, gesturing at the plush armchairs in front of the ornate brick fireplace. “Please, have a seat.”

“You speak of servants, and yet I’ve run into almost no one on my way here,” she continued as she sat down. “That man who led us to your throne, Kraglin, he said he was the head of the guard, but I’ve seen almost no ‘guard’ the whole time we’ve been here.”

“You’ve been here for less than a day,” Peter reminded her as he settled into the other chair. “And like I said, we aren’t that old-school. The guard only really exists for the off-chance that someone declares war, which probably isn’t gonna happen, aside from Thanos. Most of them are just stationed among the population to protect the people, act more as police than security for planet-wide threats.”

She nodded, folding one leg neatly over the other, staring into the crackling fire. She briefly wondered if it was real, or if it was manufactured by his Celestial abilities. “Why have you summoned me, Quill?”

“Our post-dinner discussion went kind of nuts yesterday when everyone kept wanting to talk about what they thought. Or maybe we all just like to talk too much,” he chuckled softly. “Anyways, I thought, y’know, maybe we could try to figure out a plan ourselves, without everyone else’s ‘input’.”

“Fair enough. Where do we begin?”

“Well, this might be a good start.” Peter opened the palm of his hand and extended it towards her. She watched as his fingers were swathed in white light, weaving and winding their way up his arm in ribbon-like formation. A small, completely smooth sphere of white marble suddenly appeared, levitating a couple inches above his hand, turning over and over and over again until it had transformed into a perfectly-shaped ring. In its very center was a large, pale green diamond, ensconced in an intricate carving of two blades with a double helix hilt. Gamora, at a loss for words, could only stare as the ring floated over to her, hovering in front of her face. She held up her hand in uncertainty, splaying her fingers outwards, and the ring delicately slid itself onto her finger. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit eccentric for an engagement ring,” she said, her voice hoarse with an emotion she couldn’t name. “But I’ll accept it.”

“Cool!” he said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the indefinable expression on her face. “So, we tell our dads we’ve agreed to get married. I’m guessing they both want it to happen as soon as possible, so they can start taking over the galaxy together or whatever while simultaneously figuring out how to screw each other out of the deal. In the meantime, while they’re busy playing mind games, we start figuring out the best way to stop them. We also have to play nice in public as well. My dad likes to do all these over-the-top events for our people - he’s a real show-off - so I doubt our wedding is gonna be anything less than insane.”

“That sounds horrendous and I want no part in it,” Gamora replied, frowning.

“Well, we gotta make the best out of a really bad situation. You might be used to doing stuff like this, but I’m not, and it just seems really freaking dangerous.” He leaned back in his seat, his hands beginning to glow again, though he had no intention of creating anything.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to escape my father, let alone kill him,” she said gently. “But yours…”

“He’s not...it’s...it’s complicated.” He continued to twist his fingers together. “I’m never really sure how to feel about him. You probably don’t feel that way about Thanos, considering what he did to you and your sister - you know exactly how you feel. But Dad...I hated him when we first met, because he was never there for me, never there for my mom, until she was already gone. Then he showed me the kind of power I was capable of. And I was a kid back then, so I went along with it, loved what he could show me. I don’t know if it means I love him, you know? And he gets really mad at me and Mantis sometimes, punishes us with this ‘light’ if we don’t obey him. But he always acts like he’s some kind, loving father most of the time. And...maybe that’s the scariest part of all.”

Gamora fell silent, unsure of how to respond. She still knew so little of this man, and yet she could already tell that he was an open book. She wasn’t sure what had spurred him to tell her something so intimate, but she was glad to have heard it, grateful, almost, to know he already trusted her enough to share such a story. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly. “Will he be returning soon?”

“He passed on the message this morning - he’ll be back by tomorrow evening at the very latest. We’ll have to be really careful around him, but I think I can convince him to let you stay in my quarters instead - I’ll make something up about how I really like you - wait, that came out wrong - ” He let out a panicked breath. “I mean, I don’t know you well enough to say whether I like you or not? You seem pretty cool, but - ”

“Quill, are you always like this?” Gamora interrupted, exasperated, though she was secretly sort of amused. She hadn’t been so tempted to smile around another person that wasn’t Nebula in a very, very long time. His ability to switch from an emotional monologue to babbling nonsense was rather entertaining.

“Pretty much,” Peter admitted, laughing. “Anyways, I’ll tell my dad that I want to keep you close by, you can move into the spare room in my quarters, and that way, it’ll be easier for us to have private conversations. It would also make it easier for your people to come under the guise of wanting to see you, and we can have all our big discussions right here. Hopefully we can fly under the radar that way, avoid making Dad suspicious.”

“Understood.” Her eyes wandered around the rest of the room for the first time, taking in the bookshelves and desk, the multiple tables and chairs. It was so unlike the furnishing she had seen more than enough of in other parts of the palace, lacking the gold she had already become so accustomed to. Everything was, for lack of a better word, old-fashioned. Dark woods, scratched and marked, a ding here and there. Linen and cotton trimmings in place of silks and velvets, mismatched colors and stains that looked like they had been there for years. It was quite homely compared to the arrogance of every other room. It was surprising, considering Peter had such confidence, such a swagger in his step that exuded, well, ego. She had been expecting the same amount of exuberance, but instead, there was something humbling about his quarters, warm and inviting. “If my people and I are to live here for the time being, however long that may be, I request a proper tour. Nebula and I would specifically like to see your training facilities, as we have a very strict exercise regimen to adhere to.”

“Of course. We could do it now, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Have you no duties to attend to today?” she asked.

“Uh, well, Dad...he doesn’t really trust me or Mantis to do anything but sit around and look pretty,” Peter confessed, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck as he stood. “We have a decent amount of say in the politics, as long as he’s actually present. But when he’s gone? The place sort of...runs itself.”

“That sounds improper, but it somehow seems to work for you,” Gamora acquiesced, also getting to her feet. “Let’s go.” ______

Mantis was thrilled when Peter asked her to lead the tour with him, though Gamora’s people seemed less enthused. The Celestial siblings were already showing their hand at being quite capable of talking fifty miles per minute if it pleased them, and it certainly did.

“The abridged version would have been sufficient,” Gamora commented, though not unkindly, when they arrived at their last stop, the gardens at the very back of the palace. “I was aware this place was quite large, but I wasn’t expecting it to take two whole hours.”

“You have somewhere better to be?” Yondu snorted. Offended, Gamora scowled at him, though he seemed unmoved by her display.

“Play nice, Yondu,” Peter chastised.

“I am Groot.” They all turned towards Groot, who had settled down on the edge of the fountain, his beady dark eyes staring around in wonder at the lushness of his surroundings. Peter had to admit, the gardens were his favorite part of the palace, especially as a child - twelve-foot tall hedges surrounding them in every direction, winding stone pathways interwoven with crushed glittering crystals, hundreds of enormous flower bushes blossoming to their very fullest, neatly trimmed grass that was as green as far as the eye could see. Stone benches that were artfully worn and carefully placed, the occasional tree bursting with ripe fruit and flowers, the idle chirp of a bird gently piercing the air every now and then. And of course, the enormous fountain in the very middle of it all, made of - what else? - gold, boasted a statue of Ego, his cape suspended halfway as if it were fluttering in the wind, and atop his shoulders, eight-year-old Peter and six-year-old Mantis. They were both wearing crowns dripping in jewels and intricate scroll-like carvings, which they had never worn in real life. Aside from the fountain, the Titans were surprised to find the gardens rather tasteful.

“How gaudy,” Nebula said of the statue. “Your father’s name suits him, Quill.”

“Yeah, it’s a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?” Peter laughed. Nebula looked taken aback at Peter’s agreeance with her. “Anyways, I hope we managed to entertain you for the last couple hours, and that you’ll be able to find your way around here a little easier now.”

“You didn’t, and we won’t,” Rocket drawled, though he softened somewhat when he joined Groot at the fountain. “No, don’t drink the water, you d’ast idiot.” Groot appeared to be offended at being caught.

Continuing to chuckle, Peter moved to join Gamora as the others began wandering off among the foliage. “So? Impressed?”

“‘Satisfied’ would be more accurate,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “It’s a better sight than Sanctuary. My bed...I feel as if I could have sunk right through to the floor.” Looking almost remorseful, she added softly, “I almost slept in.”

Surprised by her admittance, or rather, the fact she felt it was worthy of guilty admittance, he gave her a gentle smile in return. “Hey, you know you don’t have to stick to a schedule or anything, right? Like I’ve been saying, this kingdom is pretty damn lax. Aside from, y’know, my kinda violent dad? But he only does that to me and Mantis, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You seem unsettlingly nonchalant about that fact,” she said firmly. “It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not, but...what can you do?” he shrugged. He took another cautious step closer so they were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, gazing out to the gardens.

She looked up at him. “You can do something,” she said quietly. “Which is what we’re going to do. And if it were up to me, we would have an army standing behind us. But something tells me your so-called ‘guard’ isn’t exactly up to the task.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve got perfectly good soldiers,” Peter protested.

“It’s hard to believe you when you also tell me that you and your sister apparently do nothing of importance all day. That can’t possibly be a good influence on your subjects. How do you better your minds, your bodies? How can you be so sure you’re ready for impending war?” she whispered urgently, casting a nervous glance at their people, who were now all gathered around the fountain, making conversation. Rocket seemed to have said something that made everyone laugh.

“You think I don’t know how to fight?” he replied, teasing. He was hardly offended by her insinuation, considering her violent background in contrast with his cushy lifestyle, but hey, he couldn’t help but want to show off a little in response. “Oh, I can fight. Pretty decently, actually.”

“I’d like to see that,” she said, a smirk beginning to form. “I need to know who I’m fighting alongside, after all.” Gesturing for her to lead the way, the two of them walked to an open field of grass not too far from the others, free of the excessive amounts of foliage and rocks that occupied the other areas of the gardens. “I’ll be lenient,” she continued, removing her utility belt and tossing it aside. “No weapons. Hand-to-hand only.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank - oof!” Gamora had almost instantly roundhouse-kicked him in the gut as he spoke, causing Peter to stumble back several feet, nearly tipping head over heels right from the start. “Oh, it’s that kind of fight, hey?”

He swung, aiming for her shoulder, hoping to at least disarm her, only for her to catch his fist immediately and shove him downwards, slamming his head into the ground. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” she said tauntingly, straddling him, her hands wrapped firmly around his biceps to hold him there.

“I’m good when the other person doesn’t fight dirty.” Trying to ignore the press of her hips against his, he wrestled his arms out from her grasp and reached up to yank on her ponytail, causing her to cry out in pain, arching her back as he pulled. He took the opportunity to strike her now-exposed torso with his elbow, and as she rolled off of him, he pounced, pinning her to the ground, forearm braced against her throat, pushing her chin upwards.

“Pulling my hair? That’s the act of a child,” she chuckled weakly. “What was that about playing dirty again?” There was a brightness in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before, a sort of joy that he suspected didn’t come easy to her. He could only hope that she was already beginning to feel comfortable around him, or trust him, at the very least.

“Peter! I do hope that’s your future wife you’ve got underneath you there, and not another one of your trysts!” A booming voice from no more than fifteen feet away suddenly made Peter’s blood run cold. He and Gamora turned their heads to see Ego standing before them, hands on his hips, cape billowing behind him (Peter was at least ninety-five percent sure that he had created a permanent wind that followed him around for moments such as this). “Care to introduce us?”

Peter scrambled to his feet, bowing his head in submission. “Dad. This is Gamora of the Titans, daughter of Thanos. And yes, she is. She accepted my proposal.”

Gamora stood as well, bending fully at the waist before extending her left hand to shake, allowing the green diamond to glint spectacularly in the sunlight for Ego to see. “It is an honor to meet you,” she murmured. “Your planet is unlike anything me and my people have ever seen before, and we have been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.”

Peter couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t actually a compliment, but knowing his father, he would certainly think it was. “Powerful, kind, and beautiful,” Ego chuckled, clasping her hand between both of his. “I chose wisely, didn’t I, Peter?”

“You’re home early,” Peter replied in lieu of answering the slightly creepy question. “Something go wrong?”

“On the contrary, my boy. Just checking up on one of my projects, and it went pretty well. Too well, in fact, which is why I’m back now!” Ego grinned, letting go of Gamora’s hand. “I see you’ve fashioned quite the ring for your girl.” Gamora’s eyes narrowed at the nomenclature, though she chose not to comment, instead opting to move back to Peter’s side.

“She’s not - Dad, come on,” Peter sighed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I do have one request, by the way. I’d like for Gamora to stay in the spare room in my quarters.”

Ego raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that, son?”

“I’d...like to get to know her better. And I see no reason for her to remain in the guest wing when she’s going to be more than just a guest,” Peter said, giving her a tentative smile. Her eyes met his, a little more warmth returning, though her mouth remained downturned at the corners, stiff.

Ego’s eyes twinkled with mirth, clapping his hands together joyously. “Do I sense something in the air, Peter? Love, maybe? Or should I ask Mantis what she thinks?”

“Let’s not be hasty here,” Peter said, panicked, looking back to his father. “C’mon, Dad, don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m your dad, Peter, it’s my job to embarrass you,” he laughed, stepping forward to throw an arm over Peter’s shoulder, not-so-subtly guiding him away from Gamora. “Now, tell me all about what’s been going on since I left…” ______

Peter and Gamora weren’t alone again until nighttime, when she packed up her bags (or rather, bag) from the guest wing and accompanied him to his quarters, making their way through the eerily quiet palace, the open-air corridors bathing them in a wash of moonlight. “Sorry about my dad,” Peter said. “Like I was saying - not the most stable guy in the world.”

“Do your people know of his actions against you and your sister?” Gamora asked.

“You kidding? Of course not. Can you imagine what it’d be like if they did? Total chaos. Everyone would go running for their lives to Xandar or something.” He opened the door to his private quarters, motioning for her to enter. “Plus, it’d probably just open up the possibility of him doing it to anyone he wants to. Turn this place into a damn nightmare.”

“Considering his abilities, I’m surprised he chose to run his planet with generosity instead of coercion,” she added. “I suppose it must be your and Mantis’s influence. You have been very hospitable, if a little unorthodox. I’ve seen no signs of instability in either of you.”

“Well, I dunno about that. We all have our demons, don’t we? Things that drive us crazy?” Peter led her into the sitting room, which was every bit as cozy as his study, with large plush couches and modest furnishings. There was a sunken area in the back, which featured a few bookshelves flanked by identical-looking doors, and in between, a large set of gold-embossed double doors. He pointed to the door on the very left. “Your room is through there - has a private bathroom and everything. The big doors here are to my bedroom, so just knock before you come in. Everything else is open to you if you’d like, not that you’ll find anything interesting. It’s just a lot of books, keepsakes, random junk, that kinda thing.”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Quill.” She moved to open the door to her room, though her fingers lingered on the doorknob in hesitation as she turned to glance at him one last time over her shoulder. “Also, your fighting methods are unconventional, which may come in handy against disciplined warriors such as myself, but perhaps not the most effective way of doing things. I could help train you if you’d like. For our future endeavors, of course.”

His smile deepened, though he ducked his head away from the intensity of her gaze, feeling unusually shy. “Yeah, that...that’d be awesome. Thanks. Uh, night.”

“Goodnight.” She nodded curtly before disappearing behind the door. Peter chuckled to himself in wonderment at what exactly he’d gotten himself into as he made his way into his own bedroom.

a/n: hello lovelies, and welcome to a fic that is not my 20 questions 'verse for once! i really liked the idea of playing around with a modern royalty AU while still keeping it pretty close to their MCU selves, since that's apparently how i do my AUs. i also wanted to have a celestial!peter since i low-key wish they had explored that a little more in gotg vol. 2. like, concept - peter using his celestial powers in infinity war against thanos. is it just me that wants to see that, haha

this was originally gonna be a three-part oneshot but i'm unexpectedly going back to school in january, so now it's an eight-chapter fic to give me more time to work on it. i hope this will also give me a chance to get feedback from you guys as i write. unlike my other fic, i don't have a set schedule on when i'm posting updates, as i'll probably go days without writing once midterms come around, but i do know i'll be posting chapter 2 on december 15th, so i hope y'all are looking forward to that :)

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it. likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and see you in the next chapter!