#also another thing they have in common . they both burned to death. and live at One point in timelines where they died

[nexkoyotl]

Warriors dump facts pt.2

I'm so happy you guys enjoy the first list so I brought another one.

Again, these are facts from the movie/Comic and the Rockstar video game, that are not canon to each other.

(I also include some facts from the original script)

Starting with the most common one, Cleon actually dies, beaten to death by the Riffs

Rembrandt and Fox were said to be best friends

Cleon and Vermin kill the leader of the Destroyers by burning him

Ajax dislikes not only Swan but also Fox, and they have a rivalry in the original script

Before meeting the Warriors, Mercy knew they were being hunted because she was listening to the radio

Different from the album Rembrandt is the youngest one of the ones that go to the meeting, not Fox

Cleon "hires" some homeless people by giving them licor if they fight their new members to prove them

In the game, the Warriors recover health by taking a drug called "Flash"

Luther beat a cop to death and wears the badge in his vest

He also got the gun with which he shot Cyrus from that same cop

Ajax and Swan were the 2 considered by Cleon to be Warchief, they decide with a fight that Swan wins

Cowboy got in a fight with a Destroyer because he made fun of his hat

Swan has a pocket knife that is really special to him. It's a keepsake, and he used it to fight Luther at the end

Fox real name is Francis

The Warriors have a youth worker like most gangs had

Having a youth worker hints that the Warriors were probably mostly young people either teenager or young adults

Snow didn't talk In the original idea of the film

The Warriors have an "alliance" with a gang called the Saracens, they are the ones to help them put the Warriors under the riffs radar

Difference from the Album, in the movie and game the Rouges are very loyal to Luther even when he's a dick to all

The Turnbull AC's (Yes the first gang that goes after the Warriors) have a band

Like I said before, Cleon gets killed at the meeting, instead is Fox who sees Luther shot Cyrus

Besides Fox there was someone elese who saw this (We never know who it is) and this person tells the Riffs, saving the Warriors

The person with whom Luther talks in the phone is unknown but is called "The Boss", it has never been revela who it was or why

Some believe "The boss" actually hired Luther since he's crazy enough to do a thing like kill the most respected leader for fun

The Bizzies are based on the gang The Lizziez, which is technically the same, but women since the og warriors were male

After the events of THAT night the riffs send a gang called the hi-hats to mess with the warriors in Coney

Cochise was supposed to die in the original plan of the movie, killed by the baseball furies

The name "Masai" is not a name from the movie, he wasn't named until the game

Both Ajax and Snow enter the gang at the same time

And in that same night, they lose their Vest and have to go get them back

The gang the Boppers own a strip club called the black cat where the Warriors go even tho the Boppers have beef with them

Vermin has a crush in a stripper from this place

The game puts Snow as the muscle besides Ajax, but in a deleted scene, it is said to be Cochise and Snow, the music man

With that Vermin is the "bearer" but he never bears anything, most of the time is Snow

Ajax gets stabbed by a baseball fury in Jail

Cochise was supposed to be killed by the baseball furies

Vermin was supposed to be killed by the Lizzies

Fox was supposed to live

And Swan was supposed to be kidnapped by a gang of gay men called the Dingos, tho he escapes and makes it back to Coney

Rembrandt was convinced by a friend to join the Warriors, this friend was Ash, another warrior

Before that this both friends admired the Destroyers

Warrior dump facts.

As a teenager, The Warriors was my special interests and I LOVE the movie and I used to play the Rockstar game when i was younger and now I LOVE the Lin & Eisa album so, here are some facts from the movie (+the comics) and game (Not canon to each other) to give you guys ideas for fanfics, fanarts, etc.

I'll refer to them as their masculine counterpart since I'm talking about the movie/comic/game, where all (except Mercy) are men.

Warrior facts.

The most known fact, 2 warriors weren't included in the album, Vermin and Snow

The Warriors get their money by mugging, and selling Stereos they steal from cars

Cleon has a Girlfriend named Lincoln, she was supposed to appear at the start of the movie but they deleted the scene

Mercy hated that his then boyfriend Sully (Yes, the guy from the Orphans) care more for his car

The warriors and the riffs brake Ajax out of prison

Cochise lived in Harlem until he and his mother moved to Brooklyn

Rembrandt is gay

Ajax has like a few girlfriends

The warriors started as part of another gang "The Destroyers" they had problems with the leader so Cleon and Vermin left and formed the Warriors

(Not sure if this is true) Fox was supposed to be Mercy's love interest at first

The warriors make some Coney businesses pay them for protection, 25$ weekly I think

Their hangout is an old abandoned building that, to me, looked like a storage for the amusement park

Cochise lived in Harlem, yes but didn't join the boppers 'cuse he thought they weren't tough and he didn't like their colors.

In a deleted scene, Cleon said there's like 120 warrior members

Mercy dated a rich guy. He gets her an apartment and other stuff. This, of course, causes trouble between her and Swan

Ajax sucks at pinball

Rembrandt can use both hands, he's ambidextrous (dunno if I wrote it right)

Cowboy is really protective of his hat, and calls it buddy

Rembrandt also goes to an art class

Swan was a destroyer too, but him and Cowboy left the gang before Cleon created the warriors

Then Cleon ask Swan to join the warriors, and he accepts only under the condition of them accepting cowboy too

Only Cleon, Vermin, Swan, and Cowboy were Destroyers first. The rest arrived directly to the Warriors

Mercy dated the rich guy to get her apartment because she thought the Warriors life was no way to live

Technically, Mercy and Swan are not really together, tho Swan insist for her to go back to Coney with him

They (Mercy and Swan) end up reconciliating, and she goes back to living with him in Coney

Rembrandt sprays paint on his enemies faces as a fighting attack

Before Fox, they also lost a member named Ash, the leader of the Destroyers killed him

He (Ash) was also really close to Vermin, and his death affects him pretty deeply

Rembrandt's art teacher tries to convince him that the gang is only using him and to leave it so he drops his class

Mercy was not only Sully's girlfriend but also the Orphans' prostitute

Rembrandt gives Swan a drawing of Mercy that he made for him

After Cyrus' death, everything went back to the "normal". The truce was off, and the gangs went against each other again

This is not an IN movie/game fact, just a movie/game fact, but still interesting

You may know the movie symbol, a skull with feathers. Well, this symbol looked too similar to an actual gang that sued them, so it changed to a snake in flames

These are some of it, if I remember more, I'll do another list, but I think this are the most important. Do with this information as you guys pleased.

[meowsticmarvels]

ok one more thing. absolutely criminal that phi and akane don't interact more in ztd because to me they could be besties...... if you even care

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 3]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 13.7k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Mentions of smoking. Hospitalisation and medical stuff that will not be accurate (I have no experience with that other than TV shows). Blood and various injuries. Suggestive content & sexual conversations. Gang typical content: threats, violence, torture (including with water), weapons, injury, blood, morally fucked up characters, mentions of past forced sex work, death. Mentions of being branded. Degrading language, including mental disability slur. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Mentions of past forced medical sterilisation. Mentions of nightmares. Discussion of past murder-suicide.  🐢Summary:“In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Finding Yourself Part 2

A/N- Here is it! The third and final piece to Finding Yourself. I just want to take the chance real quick to say I genuinely never expected this story to receive the love it has, and I truly appreciate every single one of you who has commented/reblogged. Thank you for supporting this story.

Also, a giant thank you to my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for being so supportive throughout the entire process of writing and posting this, and of course, taking the time to read this all and correct my often-atrocious grammar and dumbass way of speaking being reflected in my writing. Love you bby 💗  

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Accidents happen, especially around children; you’re very aware of that and you’ve always said that you won’t blame anyone if Chan gets hurt due to a genuine accident. But saying it is one thing, remembering the words when faced with the sight that makes your heart momentarily stop beating is another thing entirely.

“Oh, come on, I’m the boss, baby, if I say that you can take five minutes off to make out with me in the backseat of my car, nobody can say shit,” Seungcheol murmurs against your ear, both of his hands firmly holding your hips to keep you pressed back against him, even as you try to return to work.

Roughly twenty minutes ago, you had joined Jihoon out the front of the garage as he took a mid-morning smoke break when Seungcheol happened to arrive to get his oil changed. You had taken charge of the simple task while the pair talked between them about the new cars due to come in any day now, as an upgrade for the current ones used to travel around the estate. The whole time, you could feel Seungcheol’s eyes glued to your ass as you bent over his car, and Jihoon obviously noticed too and wasn’t subtle about leaving you two in peace.

Now, Seungcheol is pressed against your back and trying to convince you to stay with him, which honestly, you want to do. But seeing the big, scary gang boss all whiny and needy just for you is very entertaining; so, you keep wiggling away, only to let him pull you back.

“Jihoon’s my boss,” you remind him with an innocent hum. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Seungcheol grins against your neck. “Yeah, I am,” he confirms, then abruptly turns you to pin between his body and the side of his car. “And you haven’t kissed your boyfriend yet today.”

“Haven’t seen my boyfriend until now,” you point out while running your hands over his arms in his leather riding jacket appreciatively. “Why are you wearing your bike jacket when you’re not going out on it today?”

“Because I’m a considerate boyfriend.” You raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “You very blatantly checked me out when I was wearing this the other day. You like me in this.”

“Like you out of it too.”

“Babe,” he complains. “Don’t wind me up; you know I wanna fuck you a fucking ridiculous amount, but we haven’t had the chance.”

“Almost a whole month together and you haven’t put your dick in me.” You tut disapprovingly. He makes a suffering sound and presses closer to you, while his hands smooth around your body to your back to pull you in at the same time as he gets nearer. “Haven’t even tried to either, but you always stop me.”

“I don’t want our first time to be rushed or anything, baby. I want to lay you out and fucking worship you,” he reasons in a quiet voice while leaning down to brush his nose against yours gently. “I want to be certain we’ll have no interruptions so I can focus entirely on you, like you deserve.”

“That does sound nice,” you concede in a thoughtful murmur that makes him hum approvingly before pecking your lips sweetly. “But also, so does getting fucked in general.” He sighs and slumps while giving you a flat, unimpressed look. “What? You never know what could happen! What if last night in the locker room was the only chance we have?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll get another chance that doesn’t involve fucking you against the lockers, sweetheart.”

“How sure?”

“Shut up,” he chuckles then tilts in to kiss you, uncaring for who is around or that his phone starts to vibrate in his jacket pocket pressed between your bodies.

Before you can even push him away to tell him to either answer the call or reject it as it’s annoying you, Jihoon bursts out of the garage frantically. “Pearl!” He runs over with his phone against his ear. “You need to get to house right fucking now.”

“What? Why?” You worry, nudging Seungcheol aside so that you can give Jihoon your full attention.

“Squirt’s hurt and-” he doesn’t get to finish talking before you yank open the driver’s door of Seungcheol’s car to start it up.

Seungcheol barely manages to run around and get in the passenger side before you’re pulling away, kicking up dust and gravel in your rush. With one hand, Seungcheol slams his door shut as he calls the gate security for the inner wall with the other hand and tells them to open the gate right now. 

When you approach less than a minute later, you don’t have to slow down and can speed right through thanks to his forethought.

As you pull up to the house, the front door pulls open and Hansol’s terrified screaming reaches you despite the car still being tightly closed up.

Neither you nor Seungcheol think before getting out without putting the car into park or the handbrake on, so that you can run over to where Junhui is carrying a small figure towards you. Your whole body comes over cold as you register that it’s Chan in his arms. Your little brother, covered in blood. 

Your little brother laid motionless in a hold that should be your own.

Seungkwan is rushing along at Junhui’s side while holding a wad of blood-stained cloth to Chan’s head, with his hands coated in your brother’s blood too. Though you barely register him, or Jeonghan on the porch with a screaming, writhing Hansol in his arms as the little boy tries to follow after his best friend.

All you can see is your precious little brother. Your too pale little brother. Your too still little brother.

“What happened?” You ask weakly as your shaking hands lift to touch Chan’s tiny dangling hand when Junhui passes by you to climb into the backseat of the car once Seungcheol opens the door. Seungkwan tries to follow, but you grab him by his jumper to shove him against the back of the car so he’s facing you. “I said what the fuck happened to my brother, Seungkwan?!” You demand, your gaze burning into his wet, scared one. You don’t know what your expression is doing but it must be something evil as the fear in Seungkwan's eyes grows when he takes in the fury on your face.

“H-he fe-fell down the fr-frame,” he stammers, blood-soaked hands trying to remove your grip on him but you’re holding on too tight, and his hands are too slippery; all he’s doing is smearing blood over your exposed arms. Your little brother’s blood.

“How?! Why the fuck weren’t you watching him and doing your fucking job, huh?!”

“That’s enough, baby, that’s enough,” Seungcheol says in a placating tone as he tries to pull you away from Seungkwan, but he’s being too gentle and refusing to use his strength against you. “I’m sure it was an accident; it wasn’t Kwan’s fault.”

“You wouldn’t fucking say that if it was Hansol!” You snap, shoving Seungcheol away and not paying attention to the fact he stumbles back having not expected you to push him so harshly. You turn back to Seungkwan and find him crying against the car, scared; both of your wrath, and for the little boy he truly utterly adores.

“I-I’m sorry!” He sobs. “I-I didn’t m-mean to le-let him get hurt! I’m sor-sorry!”

“You fucking should be,” you hiss and finally let him go to shove him aside, not caring that he falls to the stones harshly on his hands and knees. You don’t look at him and instead look in the car at Junhui. He nods at you, silently confirming that he’s got Chan safe in the back and allowing you to move to the driver’s door with the knowledge that your brother is as okay as he can be right now.   

But before you can pull the door open, Seungcheol grabs you and opens the back door again to sit you inside. “I’m driving,” he declares and shuts the door before getting in the driver’s seat and immediately pulling away, even if his heart yearns to comfort his distraught, screaming son. 

At least when he glances in the rearview mirror at the manor while driving away, he sees Seungkwan joining Jeonghan in trying to calm Hansol, and Seungcheol knows that his son is in good hands.

Seungcheol’s gaze flickers to you where you’ve taken Chan into your own arms, looking down at him with tears on your cheeks and whispering to him, pleading for him to wake up and not leave you alone. He presses down harder on the accelerator.  

It’s hours before you leave Chan’s room; only once Jisoo has triple checked everything that the other doctors have done to stabilise your still unconscious brother and has run all possible tests, plus some more just to be safe.

Jisoo hadn’t been available when you had arrived at the hospital, he had been in the middle of assisting a surgery on another child, so although you wished the man had been the one to initially look after your brother, someone else had to do it.

Yet the moment Jisoo had checked his phone after the surgery and noticed Seungcheol’s text stating what had happened and the room Chan is in, Jisoo had rushed right over and took over from the others. All those he dismissed were grateful to not have to face S.Coups where the man remained in the corner, watching everything intently and only talking to tell the staff that he’ll foot the bill.

Still, it takes a while longer for you to feel able to leave your brother. Only once he has most of his colour back and Jisoo promises that Chan’s more than stable enough for you to get some air, do you step out of the room and leave Seungcheol to watch over your little brother while you go outside.

You’re barely out of the doors of the building before your legs grow weak as the adrenaline leaves you and takes all strength with it.

It’s quiet at this entrance as it’s not near the garden or main wings, so there’s no-one to watch as you drop to the ground and drag yourself a few metres over to the wall to lean your back against it as tears stream down your cheeks.

Not that you’d care if anyone saw you cry right now; you’re too worried that Chan won’t wake from his head wound, or that when he does, he will be permanently affected in a way that will make his life even harder. You’d do all you could for him, of course, and you’d love him all the same, nothing could make your love for your brother lessen. But you don’t want him to have to suffer more than he has from simply being born to parents who chose to abandon him due to a disability he never asked for.

All you want for him, all you’ve ever wanted for him, is a genuinely happy, healthy life and now you’re not even sure he’ll wake and get the chance to make one.

You have no idea how long you’re sitting there, crying into blood-stained hands, and getting smears of red over your cheeks, before you hear another person.

At first, you think nothing of the footsteps nearing from down the path and ignore it entirely. But then you hear a distinctive click and something hard presses against the top of your head firmly. Instantly, your tears cease as you’re faced with the reality that there’s a gun held to your head.

“Been looking for you,” the newcomer announces. Your blood runs cold as recognition settles in your mind and fear in your heart.

Why did he have to show his face now? You could deal with him at another point, in another place, but not right now. Not when your brother is so vulnerable. Not when you can’t take him and run as far and fast as you can until he’s hidden away somewhere safe.

Slowly, you lower your hands to your sides and start to tilt your head upwards. “Dad,” you mutter when he removes the gun to let you look up at where he’s standing in front of you, backlit by the early evening sun. Even with the light behind him and shadowing his face, you can see his sick grin.

“Oh, so you do know what fucking family you belong to, huh?” He moves aside his suit jacket as he puts the safety back on his gun, to tuck the firearm back in the holster and instead pulls out his favourite knife from the pocket he has sewn into all of his tailor-made suits to allow him to carry the lethal blade.

“How did you find me?” You ask, glancing around quickly and noticing the figures standing on guard at the other end of the path at the side of the building; the only entrance to this little area other than the building itself. You know he must already have men standing inside too, so that nobody walks out into the small yard while he’s here, confronting you with a knife.

“Got men posted all over,” he reminds you as he squats down in front of you and taps the knife against your bent knee mindlessly. “You know that. And I know that you’re the only fucking person other than me and Jisung who has access to as much information as someone’s clearly been giving out lately to have Centaurs fucking destroying my men, one group at a time. Gotta admit, kid, didn’t expect you to turn on me.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he’s shoved you roughly against the wall and presses the sharp side of his blade against your throat. Even with the minimal pressure he’s using, you can feel your skin splitting under the knife’s edge, your blood trickling down to mix with Chan’s already staining the collar of your overalls.

“Fucking say that again, bitch,” he hisses in warning. “See where it fucking gets you.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t wait around,” you point out, talking carefully to not jog the knife against your throat and risk drawing more blood. “What do you want from me?”

“You are going to come back home and tell me every fucking thing you know about S.Coups and his pathetic gang.”

“What makes you think I know anything?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, bitch. You fooled me for thirty years, letting me think you’re stupid and unable to retain or understand important information, just to fucking stab me in the back and hide away.” He sneers at you and pulls his hand back, only to lift the knife and touch the tip against your left cheek just below your eye. “I didn’t fucking believe you would betray me. I thought family meant something to you, but my men sent me photos of you with S.Coups himself; being held in this hospital by my fucking enemy and I realised you have no fucking family loyalty.”

“You’re no family to me.”

“Mm, I can see that,” he watches as he lets the weight of his knife tilt enough to drag the blade down your tear-sticky, and already blood smeared, skin; scoring a thin line an inch or so long as you try not to wince at the pain of being cut over delicate skin, before he pulls the knife away entirely and looks at you properly. “But I know that idiot fucking child in there is.”

“He used to be important to you too.”

“Then I realised he’s a retarded little fuck and will never be of use to me. Except, to blackmail you.”

“If you hurt him-” you start to warn, glaring at the man as he gets up with an amused chuckle that makes you cut off.

“I won’t, if you come with me. I’ll pull back my men and even forget that the man I want dead is here without any guards and I could easily go in and spray the room with the motherfucker’s blood.”

“He’s a far more competent fighter than you’ll ever be, much younger too,” you goad, only to get his knife stabbed into your shoulder in retaliation. You immediately slap your hand over your mouth to stop the yell of pain leaving and being heard inside the building. The last thing you want is for an innocent person to hear and try to help only to get hurt. You’d rather just grit your teeth and bear the pain alone.

“Keep talking shit and I’ll go up there right fucking now and slit both their throats, and even that skinny fucker with them too. And the pretty doctor doting on your dumbass little brother,” he threatens, pulling the blade from your shoulder slowly, just to prolong the pain of the serrated edge of one side of the blade catching and dragging through the shallow amount of skin and flesh he imbedded it into.

Once the blade is out, you take a second to catch your breath, then lower your hand. “If I leave with you right now without fuss, you swear you’ll have all of your men retreat and not harm them? That you’ll leave them be until Chan has been discharged and is safe at home again?”

“Swear on your mother’s grave,” he retorts with a smirk as his empty hand presses over his equally empty heart.

“You never gave a fuck about her,” you hiss. “Swear on your own mother’s grave, or better yet, your own life; you’re the only person you truly give a fuck about, anyway.”

He sighs but concedes. “I swear on my life that I will pull all my men back and leave the retard alone if you come with me right now; I have no interest in him anyway.”

“And the others? Coups, the other man, and the doctor? You won’t touch them until Chan is home?”

“Yes, yes, whatever, just get your ass up now, I’m done talking here. I fucking hate hospitals.”

“I’m well aware,” you grunt as you get up, doing your best to not use your left arm as you don’t want to exacerbate the shoulder wound you feel oozing blood down your torso. “You’re the reason I almost died from a chest infection.”

“You got better.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Get over it, you’re a grown ass woman.”

“And I was eight fucking years old then!” You exclaim as you reluctantly take a step forward to walk at his side down the path. You’re glad that the weakness has left your body now, either thanks to the rest and air, or that there’s a much more imminent threat hanging over not just Chan’s head and forcing your body and mind to toughen back up to endure it and do what you need to.

As you get into the car with your father, you can only hope that Seungcheol will do what he once promised to and look after Chan without you around.

It’s strange being back in your family home. Strange to be marched past men you once worked with and trained alongside, only to now be strapped to a chair in the basement as your father watches his right-hand man pull out all the stops to torture you for information that you refuse to give.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jisung grunts when he gives up trying to get you to tell them how to work around the Centaur estate’s security in hopes that Vultures can sneak inside and slaughter the members in their sleep, something at least half of them will be doing right now.

You have no idea what the time is exactly, there isn’t a clock down here, or a window to see the progression of the sun and moon in the sky, but you know it’s been hours.

Vultures are known for their sick joy of slowly pulling apart their victims; it’s part of the reason for the name, after all. The other part is the tendency to cause havoc amongst other gangs to have them do most of the hard work, then swoop in at the last minute and take over. Like a vulture circling a struggling animal in the wild only to finish the job when the animal is too weak to go on. It’s a fitting moniker for your father, you think.

Although the man is more than capable of getting his hands dirty, he’s proven that many times, he often lets his right-hand man do most of the work and only steps in to finish the job if he deems it worth his time.

Up until now, he hasn’t deemed you worth his time.

Something about seeing the man remove his jacket, gun holster and shirt to leave him in his plain white tank top makes a sick sense of pride travel through you. For your dad to remove not just his suit jacket, but his shirt too so that they don’t get dirty, you know it means he has no intention of going easy on you and deems it necessary to get as dirty as possible. You’ve only seen him remove his shirt to work someone once before, and that hadn’t ended well for his victim.

You know that you won’t come out of this in one piece, if you even come out of it at all; but you don’t let that scare you, only strengthen your resolve to not give him a single piece of information about Seungcheol and his gang. There’s only so much torture he can force you through before death is the next step. At this point, you fear death far less than the thought of putting the family you’ve been making for yourself the past months at risk. It’s a no brainer, but your father is too pissed off to realise that.

“You trained me well, Uncle Jisung,” you tease as blood drips down your body from various open wounds, saliva, and blood blending together and spilling from your open mouth, nose too broken and swollen to be possible to breathe through. Though you think that maybe your jaw might be broken too, or at least fractured, based on the searing pain when you talk. Still, you persist.

“She’s right, you know,” Jisung comments as he drops down to sit on the stool your father previously occupied to watch.

Now, your dad is standing by the rack to decide which tool to use against you. There are a few new items hanging on display compared to when they took turns forcing you through torture training as a teen, but you’re not worried; you’ll withstand it all for the sake of those you love.

It’s only now, as you feel the sudden burning pain of a heated blade carving into your palm and sealing wounds shut to make sure they scar under your father’s guidance, that you realise that you do love the group of men and the little boy who have shown you what it means to be a family.

You love Mingyu for being the first person to ever truly be kind to you and Chan.

You love Junhui and his tendency to feed everyone at any chance he gets while cracking stupid jokes.

You love Seungkwan and his ability to remain calm even when Hansol has his energy bouts and Chan gets overloaded and has a meltdown. You regret how you treated him earlier and hope that he doesn’t hold it against you; you’d hate for the last time you saw him to taint his memories of you forever.

You love Jihoon and his straightforward method of talking and teaching you everything you’ve never before been allowed to know about mechanics and every tool he can get his hands on.

You love Seokmin and Soonyoung, for their endless optimism and joint skill of making everyone laugh.

You love Wonwoo, Minghao, Jisoo and Jeonghan, even if you don’t see them that often; but they’re always such gentle, supportive presences when you do, even with Jisoo and Jeonghan’s joint endless teasing of Seungcheol.

You love Hansol so fully that he was the first to enter your heart and make you realise that you want to extend your family to include him. You love how he has been the single best thing to happen to Chan in, perhaps, his entire life, and you know he will continue to be. You love him for being so gentle, yet not condescending, as he guides your little brother through life. You love him for loving Chan, and you truly hope with everything in you that the pair will always remain together and have one another to rely on.

And you love Seungcheol, maybe not in the romantic sense yet, but you think if given the chance, you would’ve fallen head over heels for the beautiful man with a heart so big and warm that you’ve never felt like there isn’t space for you there. You wish that you have more time with him, more time to learn how to love him with everything in you, but you don’t. You’ve never been a person to have regrets, but you think you will end your life with just one before a new day dawns.

You don’t scream as the knife drags through your skin; it truly doesn’t hurt that much, not when you think the pain centre of your brain has mostly shut down after these hours of torture. It hurts more to see the winged V being crudely carved into your skin as if the old brand on your thigh isn’t enough to prove the years of pain and suffering forced onto you from the man who was supposed to love and cherish you more than anyone in the world.

“I think she’s done,” Jisung comments, watching with a frown as your eyes glue unseeingly to your palm with no sign that you’re being carved and burned at once in the rest of you. “She’s shutting down, boss.”

“I’ll wake her the fuck up,” your dad seethes and throws the knife aside before walking behind you to the back of the room.

You don’t bother trying to follow him with your eyes, you can hear him running the tap and the water filling the bucket. You know what’s coming, yet when he stands in front of you and throws the bucket of ice-cold water at your face hard enough it stings, you’re still shocked by the temperature and sudden liquid.

Before you can finish gasping from the onslaught, he pulls your head back by his fist in your hair and shoves a soaked cloth into your mouth; forcing you to inhale freezing water, sucking it into your lungs and causing your body to shake and shudder as your lungs fight to expel the water yet only succeeding in gaining more cold liquid from the cloth. It’s not much water at all, only a little really, but you can’t breathe without dragging more droplets into your lungs and giving yourself no relief.

You try to force yourself to stop breathing, to calm down and press the cloth out of your mouth with your tongue, but you can’t. Your body is panicking from being unable to breathe, and you can’t tilt your head up with your dad’s fist in your hair, leaving your throat at an angle so awkward that you can’t even swallow to get the water down the correct pipe.

Just when you think you’re about to pass out as your vision grows blurrier than your facial and head injuries already have it, your dad lets you go and rips the cloth from your mouth.

Immediately, you double over as you try to suck oxygen into your lungs while drooling saliva and blood over the already blood-stained concrete between your spread feet.

“Now,” your father starts as he condescendingly pats the back of your head too harshly. “You’re going to tell me every fucking thing you know about Choi Seungcheol and his Centaurs, or you’re going to spend the rest of your life fighting for breath.” He walks away to grab the bucket from the floor ready to refill while you try your best to get enough breath to respond.

The moment your lungs are no longer screaming for oxygen, and you can breathe somewhat normally, you start to laugh and slowly look up, gaze locking with Jisung’s where the man is staring at you as if you’re some kind of unidentifiable creature he wishes he can escape and never see again.

“What the fuck?” He whispers. “Boss…I really don’t think she’s human.”

“Stop with your fucking bullshit!” Your dad exclaims and throws the first thing to hand, which isn’t the bucket of water, at Jisung. The man doesn’t move and accepts the wooden scrubbing brush to his head without complaint knowing that your dad would certainly punish him if he tried to dodge. You all learned that a long time ago and wear scars for proof.

“Just let me exorcise her, just once. You should’ve let me when she was a kid and then all this wouldn’t be happening,” Jisung reasons a little desperately, making you laugh harder.

“She’s not a fucking demon, I’d prefer she was one than a fucking retard,” your father grunts while resoaking the cloth with water from the bucket as he approaches you.

As he tips your head back ready to shove the dripping cold rag into your mouth, you grin as best as you can at him when your whole face hurts to move in any way. “How does it feel to have a retard be the reason half your gang’s dead, Vulture?” You taunt.

Just as he roughly presses the cloth to your open mouth, there’s a noise so loud from somewhere upstairs that all three of you look towards the ceiling in shock.

“Was that an explosion?” Jisung mumbles as he gets up to his feet, then steps back while ducking down instinctively when there’s another explosion, followed by the sound of gunfire. “Fuck, we’re under attack.”

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, go find out who dares to come to my home!” Your dad demands, thankfully removing the cloth from your mouth as he uses his hand to gesticulate.

“I don’t need to go outside to know,” Jisung declares and turns to look at you. “They’re here for her.”

“No, there’s no fucking way S.Coups would launch an attack for a retarded whore,” he argues and lets you go to walk over and shove Jisung towards the door. “Stop being a pussy before I strap you to that chair and let her get her own back. You trained her yourself, remember.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung concedes and rushes out of the room, making sure to lock it behind him to protect his boss as much as possible without being present.

“If you believe his words, you’re as stupid as I initially thought,” your dad taunts as he moves over to his belongings to retrieve his gun from the holster and tuck it into his waistband ready to use if the fight makes it down here.

You know that a part of him must think that there’s weight to Jisung’s assumption, that your father also believes, even a little, that Seungcheol has launched an attack on the Vulture’s headquarters to get you back. The realisation that he’s scared makes you laugh.

“Oh, daddy dear,” you sneer through blood coated lips. “I don’t think I’ve seen you scared before.”

“I’m not fucking scared. There’s no fucking way it’s Centaurs, just some pissy little gang with too much fire power for their own good. My men will deal with it while I finish what I started here.” He pulls the stool away from the wall and over to your side before sitting with the bucket between his feet to soak the cloth in the freezing water.

“Better make it count, you’re on limited time,” you remind and drop your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

He stares at you for a moment too long; the silence makes you glance at him and notice the growing fear on his features. He knows that if you’ve accepted him causing you to almost pass out with water tickling your lungs, that he truly is at the end of his time, both in regard to getting information from you, and his life.

“Cold feet, daddy?” You taunt, smirking when you hear yelling and gunfire getting louder, getting closer. “Tick tock, there’s no numbers left on the clock, time to make a decision.”

“If only I knew you’re this fucking tough and relentless, I would’ve rated you higher,” he mutters in stubborn admittance.

“If you had rated me higher from the start, things would be very different right now.”

“How different? You would’ve remained and not sold me out?”

“Only if you rated Chan the same.”

“That boy is fucking worthless; the sooner you learn and accept that, the better. You could be something special with your resilience and skills without him weighing you down.”

“Finally admitting that I’m useful for more than just seducing your enemies into a false sense of security?” You scoff a laugh. “Too fucking little too late, old man. I know my worth, always have despite how much you tried to literally beat me down, and it’s more than you’ll ever be worth.”

He glares at you. “You’ll never inherit all this; everyone who knows you’re my daughter is too loyal to me to let you take over.”

“Why would I want anything to do with this poor excuse of a gang when I’m by the side of the Choi Centaur?”

“So, you admit it, you’ve fucking sold yourself to him like some cheap, nasty whore.”

“No. He doesn’t own me in any way, but he’s accepted me and Chan entirely. He’s shown us what it’s like to have a real family.”

“He’s not your family, he’s not blood.”

“Blood means nothing when it’s spilled by the hands of those who are supposed to love you.”

With all of your injuries, you don’t hear anyone nearing the room, but your father clearly does as he pulls out his gun and aims at the door before there’s a loud bang and the door rattles in the doorframe.

“Time’s up,” you whisper tauntingly and only laugh when he brings his hand around to hit you hard enough in the face with the side of his gun that your head jerks back and your chair tips a little before falling forward again with a loud clunk. And something loosens.

While your father moves forward slightly and steadies the gun in both hands with eyes glued to the door, you blink through the blood trickling into your eyes and lean forward to peer down at your feet. It takes a lot of concentration and sheer will power before you can see clearly enough to realise that your limbs are no longer tied to the chair legs. The chains are still circling your ankles and pooling around your feet, but they’re no longer attached to the wooden legs of the chairs.

The pounding on the door doesn’t stop; someone is clearly trying to break it down, and judging by the way you can spot your father shuffling his weight from foot to foot just in front of you, he can tell that whoever is on the other side is close to getting in.

Part of you hopes it’s Seungcheol, but the other part of you hopes that it’s not; you don’t want him to be here risking his life when he’s got two young boys to look after.

Though you know that logically, Seungcheol will be right here with his men if this truly is the Centaurs skipping a whole bunch of steps in the plan that the two of you had made to destroy the Vultures. You both had wanted to make sure that by the time your father is dealt with, there is no chance of his underlings rebuilding up what he once had, so Seungcheol has been making carefully curated moves for the past two months to be thorough.

Although storming the Vultures’ headquarters and home was never part of the plan, you think it can be forgiven if Seungcheol has made the order to be ruthless with whoever they cross paths with and leave no man alive by the time the dust settles.

You wish you can see the look on your father’s face, that you can see the realisation setting in that it’s over for him as the door crashes to the floor to reveal the seething head of the Centaurs.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Seungcheol demands while stalking into the room. He’s covered in blood, some of which you can tell is his own based on the injuries on his body, but he’s upright and able to go on, so you don’t let yourself focus on it and worry. You need to keep your attention down on your own task, otherwise you fear you will lose the last grip on your consciousness that you’ve been fighting to hold onto since your father’s gun clad hand collided with your face.

“Come closer and I’ll shoot,” your father warns.

“Fucking do it, I’ll still rip your fucking throat out,” Seungcheol growls threateningly and steps closer, yet stops frozen in his tracks when your father moves his gun into his left hand and points it at you blindly.

You only notice because the barrel suddenly comes into your vision where you’re leaning forward with your head bent to watch as you wiggle your bare feet out from the chains as quietly as you can to not draw your father’s attention. The sudden weapon in your face makes you lean up a little and raise your head to look at your father, who is still looking at Seungcheol, and then the man himself, who is staring at you with pain and fear on his features; not for himself, but for you.

You don’t know what you look like, but your body has reached a cold numbness that you know means that you’re only conscious out of sheer spite; the moment you’re done, you know you’ll pass out. And frankly, at this point with all the injuries that have made a home of your body, you think you’ll be lucky to wake any time soon, if at all.

Although it takes more energy than you’d like to expel when you have other things to be doing, you do your best to smile at Seungcheol reassuringly. Somehow, it only makes his expression worsen.

With a little frown at your attempts to soothe the man failing, you turn your head back down, both to focus and because honestly, even holding your head up is too much for you to handle any longer. Your energy and strength are rapidly depleting. 

You don’t have much time left.

“Just-just let her go, you’ve hurt her enough,” Seungcheol suddenly pleads, reluctantly looking back at your father. “Please, just don’t hurt her anymore.”

“Oh, are you weak for this dumb whore, S.Coups?” Your father mocks, gun wavering as he laughs.

You hear Seungcheol respond; hissing at your father about something or other; you assume he’s defending you, but everything sounds too muffled all of a sudden that you couldn’t make sense of his words even if you tried.

It’s now or never. There’s no time left.

Even though there’s still some chain left around your swollen ankles, you lift your legs as quickly as you can, ignoring that the rattling will alert the man in front of you of your movements, and bring your soles down against the back of his knees, knocking his legs out and sending him to his knees with what you’re sure would be a sickening crunch if you could hear clearly.

As it is, all you hear is a muffled bang before your legs wrap around him, to force his neck into the crook of your right knee and then your other free limb traps your own leg to keep your grip tight to choke the man.

There’s another bang and you see blood spurt up from your left knee, making you realise that both bangs were gunshots. As Seungcheol drops down in front of you to wrestle the gun from your father’s grasp, you rapidly look him over in concern as best as you can when your vision is rapidly turning black and your head spins.

“Baby,” he breathes out upon turning to you, tossing the gun away and pressing his hands against your stomach with wide eyes of fear. You blink at him and try to discern what he says next but he’s talking too fast, and a buzzing is growing in your ears. He removes one hand from your stomach to untangle your legs, prompting you to look at the lifeless figure with the bleeding hole in his head.

You hadn’t even heard the bang of Seungcheol shooting your father, ending the life of the man who spent three decades making your life a living hell. You always assumed you’d feel something the day your father died, relief, joy; but you don’t feel anything right now.  

You let Seungcheol move your legs until your father’s corpse drops to the ground, and then Seungcheol is kneeling directly in front of you and pressing on your stomach again. Your head drops heavily to look at what he’s doing, and you now realise that the first gunshot must’ve entered you, even if you didn’t notice it. You’re too numb after everything to feel the pain, even now as you see your blood spilling out over Seungcheol’s hands.

“Oh,” you slur and force your head up with the last of your strength to ask the one thing you need to know before succumbing. “Chan?”

Seungcheol responds, opens his mouth to talk but you can’t hear a word he’s saying. His eyebrows furrow with worry before he nods rapidly, telling you that Chan is okay.

You just about manage a relieved smile before you let go.

The Choi estate hasn’t been this quiet in a long time.

The Centaurs haven’t faced such loss in so long that it touches every inch of the estate; from the entrance gates to the centre of the manor, no-one is left unaffected.

Although the Centaurs came out on top and entirely wiped out the Vultures two weeks ago, nobody has been able to celebrate the win when their numbers have dwindled enough to leave homes empty and rooms unoccupied all over the estate.

News of the battle at the Vultures’ estate had spread quickly, and although it’s not hidden information of the losses suffered amongst Centaurs, there has been an added respect and fear for the surviving gang members.

Seungcheol had gone in guns blazing and eradicated a giant pest from the country, not just the city. Vultures had their grimy talons all over the country and now, although Seungcheol hadn’t managed to send his men out to all of them to deal with them before the battle, nobody has heard anything about any Vulture since; and many have even switched sides to other gangs in hopes of gaining protection from Centaurs knowing that should they remain in their affiliation with Vultures, they won’t have their lives for much longer.

Many gifts and signs of support have arrived at the Choi estate over the past two weeks, but none make it to the manor; with Seungcheol not showing his face on the estate once in the two weeks, nobody has had the permission to send anything to the manor.

Although Mingyu is in charge when Seungcheol isn’t around, he hasn’t wanted to deal with any of that and has been entirely focused on handling everything for the gang itself; arranging funerals, overseeing the still ongoing work, supporting the men as best as he can with a guilt in his heart for not having been at the battle, even if it had been Seungcheol’s orders for Mingyu to remain and protect the estate. Mingyu thinks he’s the wrong person to comfort the men who returned when he hadn’t seen the bloodshed and faced injury himself.

At least Wonwoo, who had been at the battle, returned with only a few injuries and has been standing as Mingyu’s right-hand man, while the tall man is the pseudo leader until their true leader can face coming back when he saw so much loss that day. When he is still suffering so much.

They hope and send out prayers to deities that they don’t believe in that their leader will return to them soon; his son has been crying every day, begging for his father and little brother back while they can only do their best to soothe him and try to convince Seungcheol via call to come home, at least to hug Hansol.

But he doesn’t. He makes sure to tell Hansol that he loves him, and he will be home as soon as he can, but it’s not possible yet. Then he doesn’t answer another call until the same time the next day just to talk to his son and tell him he loves him. It’s a small relief, but a relief all the same that Seungcheol isn’t too gone that he won’t talk to his son.

It’s better than nothing, at least.

After a month, the Choi estate has healed enough that things are almost back to normal, at least as normal as they can be without the Choi Centaur around.

He came back once, just to fetch Chan’s turtle while Hansol was in a fitful sleep curled up in between Seungkwan and Jeonghan in his father’s bed. Seungcheol hadn’t possessed the strength to even look in on his son as he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave if he did, and he couldn’t risk it.

But now, after a month of watching Hansol get worse and worse with every passing day; refusing to take his medication and vitamins, barely eating or sleeping, and only talking to sob out pleas to bring his family back, Jisoo can’t let it continue and picks him up one day, even with the boy weakly fighting the hold, and carries him to his car.

“What are you doing? You know we can’t take him anywhere,” Seungkwan worries, but he’s not stopping Jisoo and climbs into the back of the car at Hansol’s side to strap him in while the boy cries and tries to go back into the house to wait for his father to return, but he’s too weak to do anything more than slap his hands against Jisoo’s strong arms as he’s held in place for Seungkwan.

“I’m doing my job as his godfather,” Jisoo grunts and moves back to shut the door and get into the driver’s seat.

“It’s okay, Solie, it’s okay, Uncle Soo is taking us somewhere. It’ll be fine, we trust Uncle Soo, don’t we?”

“Bu-but d-daddy!” Hansol wails, scrambling at the door but Jisoo has already put the child lock on so Hansol’s little fingers tugging at the handle doesn’t do a thing.

“I’m taking you to him,” Jisoo informs as he drives through the grounds.

Hansol immediately falls quiet and looks at Jisoo with wide, wet eyes. “T-to daddy?”

“Yes. It’s about time he sees what he’s doing to you; I should’ve done this already.” The doctor sighs regretfully, guilt heavy in his exhausted tone. “And I’m going to make you healthy again, okay? But you need to promise me you’ll eat, Sol.”

“I wi-will! I j-just wan-wanna see my da-daddy,” Hansol sobs.

“I know, buddy, I know.”

Seungkwan wraps his arms around the little boy to comfort him for the rest of the drive out of the estate and through the city.

Seungkwan doesn’t recognise the building they pull up to and grows confused yet remains quiet and simply gets out to follow Jisoo inside as the doctor carries the little boy.

It’s not until they’ve passed a few security checks and Jisoo has signed them in, that Seungkwan realises that this building is a very private hospital; so private that he didn’t even know that it exists until now.

Although Jisoo works at the main public hospital, he clearly has experience here as the staff greet him as Dr Hong and he walks confidently through the halls to a wing that is full of men who are somewhat familiar to Seungkwan. Some are in hospital wear and recovering from various injuries, and some are wearing dark clothing with obvious weapons attached to their bodies as they patrol the halls and stand alert at various intervals throughout the wing on guard.

“Who-who are they?” Hansol whispers, clutching Jisoo tighter as many of the men look in surprise at the little boy, clearly knowing who he is yet not having expected to see him here, before looking away respectfully.

“They’re part of daddy’s team; they’re here to guard everyone,” Jisoo answers without slowing as he leaves the busiest part of the wing behind and walks further away from the various men until the section that he stops in only has a couple of guards at the entrance of the hall at the opposite end. Jisoo puts Hansol down, then knocks on the door in front of them before sliding it open and leading the pair into the large room.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol mutters from where he’s sprawled on one of the two hospital beds in the room with Chan laid on his chest fast asleep. His wide eyes dart from Jisoo to his son, then back and forth as Hansol rushes over, already sobbing and calling for them while tries to climb up. “Sol.”

“Daddy!” Hansol wails and crawls over to lay against him with his arm over Chan’s back to hug them both once Jisoo lifts the boy up onto the bed.

Seungkwan remains back, almost by the closed door, knowing that it’s not his place to be here and he certainly can’t go against his boss’ strict orders to keep Hansol at the manor and not disturb Seungcheol. But Jisoo has always been perhaps the only person, until you, who can dismiss Seungcheol’s words where Hansol is concerned.

Jisoo has been Hansol’s godfather since stepping into his life and it’s a position that Seungcheol respects too much, even if he’s not religious, that he will accept Jisoo’s actions knowing they’re what the doctor truly believes is best for the boy.

“Look at your son, Seungcheol,” Jisoo demands and Seungcheol winces, already staring at his son with pained, guilty tears in his eyes and his hand gripping onto his small body as tightly as he can without risking hurting the slim boy. “This is your fault; he’s not eating or sleeping because of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Seungcheol whispers brokenly.

“You need to come home.”

“I can’t,” Seungcheol replies as he looks over to the other bed where you’re laid perfectly still as your body fights to heal while your mind refuses to come back. He doesn’t know if you will return to him, but he knows that Chan won’t leave your side and as the only adult the boy truly trusts, he can’t leave, as much as he wants to be with his son.

You trust Seungcheol to do right by your brother and he can’t let you down. He needs to show you that Chan has recovered from his head injury, and although the boy has withdrawn a lot and mostly just stares at you silently in wait for you to wake, he’s alive and healthy. You need to wake up and see that.

Seungcheol knows that if he went home and saw Hansol, he wouldn’t want to let him go. Now that he’s tucked up against him and already almost asleep just from being in his father’s safe hold and able to see Chan sleeping safely under his own hold, Seungcheol knows that he’s not going to be able to let him leave. He’s missed him too much; his heart has ached too much, but now it hurts a little less seeing Hansol.

Though the gaunt condition of his son does grip Seungcheol’s insides with guilt, more than he already feels from just knowing his son was suffering without him.

He knew it was an impossible decision to make, staying to support you and Chan, or going home to his son. He had tried to be logical about it; that Chan only has you and him to trust so much, whereas Hansol has ten men ready to do everything and anything to make him happy. But seeing Hansol’s condition now, Seungcheol wonders if he should’ve let his heart win, not his head.

“Get another bed in here and go get Hansol’s favourite blanket and supplies for him,” Seungcheol orders, looking at Jisoo and then Seungkwan, who nods quickly and backs out of the room.

“Finally, you’re not being a giant dumbass,” Jisoo sighs in relief and reaches out to squeeze Seungcheol’s arm in approval. “I’m getting him hooked up though, I don’t know the last time he ate a decent meal.”

“Thank you, Jisoo, seriously.”

“Just being a good godfather.”

“And friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m always that, I think it’s time I focus more on the godfather duties like I should’ve been. I should’ve brought him here much sooner.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I would’ve accepted it so easily. I fucked up here, big time.”

“I think no matter what you chose to do, you would’ve fucked up. Abandoned one child for the sake of the other when neither deserves that and both need you.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and blink away the tears that trickle down his temples onto the pillow. “What do I do?” He whispers desperately, broken. “I-I can’t make the boys live in this room for the rest of their lives, but Chan won’t leave her and honestly, I don’t want to either.”

“It’s another impossible situation. But have faith, her vitals have been stable for a week straight; she’s breathing on her own and I have a feeling it’s only going to get better.”

“If you’ve jinxed it, I’m going to make you pay,” Seungcheol promises while turning his head to look at Jisoo, who just chuckles and pats his arm again. “I mean it.”

“Typical of you to only be superstitious when it suits you,” Jisoo tuts as he turns and heads to the door. “I’ll get that bed, and everything ordered, then I will be back.”

“Thank you.” Seungcheol watches Jisoo leave before he turns his head to kiss each slumbering boy on the head, then turns his head even further to look over at you. “Please wake up soon, sweetheart. I need you; our family needs you.”

It’s not dramatic when it happens, there are no racing monitors, no sudden jolts, just a flutter of eyes and a steady chest.

Everything aches and you’re oddly tired for just waking up, but you feel okay, all in all.

The sound of soft giggling draws your attention to where the two boys are sitting on the bed a few metres on your right. Hansol is reading to Chan, using all of his best voices and dramatic gestures to act out the story he’s reading from the book. Chan is utterly entranced, staring at Hansol with his mouth open in awe and big eyes glued to the older boy.

You can see the scar on Chan’s forehead, a scar that wasn’t there the last time you saw him conscious, and it makes you frown as you recall the condition you last saw your little brother in. Though, at least he’s awake and seems like his normal self now, judging by the sparkle in his eyes as he watches Hansol make fishie faces at him while pretending to swim.

Suddenly, Hansol glances past Chan to you and straightens with a gasp while dropping the book on his lap. “Aunt Pearl!”

Chan spins around and shrieks at the sight of you looking at them. He tries to rapidly get down but luckily, Seungcheol is already on his feet between the beds despite having been dozing on the other bed across the room until Hansol’s exclamation, so he grabs Chan before he can fall and carefully deposits your brother onto your bed to allow Chan to scramble forward to hug you tight.

“Careful, Squirt,” Seungcheol reminds, gently pulling back Chan with one hand as he stops Hansol climbing onto your bed with the other. But you weakly bat Seungcheol’s right hand away to pull Chan as close as humanly possible with the monitors attached to your body.

“I wanna hug her too!” Hansol whines.

“There isn’t space, she isn’t well enough to have you both on her right now,” Seungcheol reminds and picks up his son to hold and hug himself to try and comfort the seven-year-old’s sad frown away.

You want to argue with Seungcheol and tell him to hand over Hansol too, but you’re already feeling too weak just from wrapping your arms around Chan and you know you really don’t have the strength any longer. You lace your fingers together behind Chan so that your arms won’t fall when your eyes flutter closed, and sleep takes you seconds later.

“Aunt Pearl!” Hansol exclaims in worry, trying to lean forward towards you, but Seungcheol holds him tighter.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Seungcheol promises, putting one hand to Chan’s back when he starts to writhe and make distressed noises seeing your eyes closed again upon leaning up. “She fell asleep. Her body and mind need lots of rest to get better. Look, the monitors say everything is fine,” he reminds them while pointing to the monitors above the bed on the wall, prompting both boys to look up.

After spending the past two weeks in this room, they are both familiar enough with those monitors to know what they should look like, and seeing them now, they both relax.

“She’s just sleeping?” Hansol checks.

“Yeah, she’s just sleeping. How about you finish reading that book, yeah?” Seungcheol suggests as he puts Hansol down on the bed the boy has been sharing with Chan for two weeks now. Though he doesn’t try to remove Chan from you and instead carefully rearranges him into a position that he hopes won’t cause you any problems while still allowing Chan the range of motion to look at Hansol.

As Hansol picks the story back up from where he got to, Seungcheol climbs up onto the bed behind him to lay down with his gaze glued to you. Relief fills his chest from seeing you awake for the first time in six weeks, since he saw you pass out in the basement as he tried to stop the wound in your stomach from bleeding out.

There’s hope mixed in with that relief filling his body, hope that this means you will be able to return home soon; return to where you all belong, together.

Almost three months after last stepping foot in the manor, you finally return, though not on foot, much to your dismay. 

Although you can walk, you’ve been put on rest by the doctors, Jisoo included, until your knee recovers more. You can’t truly blame them considering the fact you had been shot through it and your kneecap shattered to the extreme that they entirely replaced it with a synthetic one, leaving you with a consistent strange sensation in your knee and general constant aching they said may never leave. But still, you really wish you didn’t have to be wheeled around.

Though, having your strong boyfriend carry you when you refuse to use your wheelchair is a happy little advantage you discover over the first few days being home. You’re pretty sure that he knows you refuse on purpose sometimes, just so that he’ll pick you up in his strong hold and move you to where you want to go with a little smirk on his face as your hands appreciatively smooth over his bulging arms.

Part of you thinks that whatever happened to your head that day in the basement has seriously altered your brain chemistry because your libido has never been so active. What makes it worse is that even though Seungcheol is around the house more than he ever has been to keep an eye on you; while also making up for lost time with his son, he still refuses to have sex with you.

So, you endlessly pine, admittedly not so silently when you pout at him whenever he pulls away from a kiss too soon, but it falls on deaf ears, so you may as well be complaining to a brick wall.

Despite the never-ending simmering in your veins, you get better and better with every passing day.

But Chan, on the other hand, seems to be suffering in your place.

Since the four of you returned home, you’ve been sleeping in Seungcheol’s bed with him and the two boys in Hansol’s room. At first, all four of you had shared the bed, but then the boys moved into Hansol’s room and always seem to be so excited to share the bed and have endless sleepovers.

Yet, every single night, Chan wakes a few hours after going to sleep; screaming and writhing in fear that only settles once Seungcheol has fetched him and brought him to tuck up against your chest. Your tear-stained brother falls back to sleep only once he’s gently patted his hands over your face as if to check it’s really you and has his head resting on your chest to be lulled into slumber by your healthy heartbeat.

Come morning, Chan never remembers what happened or how he got to the bed, or Hansol sleepily joining at his father’s side not wanting to be alone and also to make sure that Chan is okay. So, as much as you want to ask Chan what happens, what his nightmares are about, you can’t because he truly doesn’t remember. Though, you think it’s pretty obvious that they’re always about losing you.

Seungcheol had told you that Chan had a lot of nightmares at the hospital; some were really bad and Seungcheol couldn’t calm him no matter what he tried, even putting Chan at your side hadn’t helped. So Seungcheol could only pace, bouncing Chan in his arms and rubbing his back like an unsettled baby until the boy wore himself out and passed out on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Your heart aches for your little brother, and you wish you could do something to help, but other than giving him sleeping medication to make him sleep deeply enough that he isn’t plagued by nightmares, which is something you don’t want to do if you can help it, the only option is therapy. Though with Chan’s refusal to be far from either you or Seungcheol at any given point, you don’t think it’s a viable option. Plus, Chan has stopped talking to even Hansol, so you know that there’s not a chance in hell he’ll talk to a stranger.

You’re at a loss and can only hope that with time, your brother’s fear of losing you will lessen, and he can go a single night not at your side without waking in petrified tears.

At least Hansol is back to himself now, entirely healthy and sleeping as best as he can when Chan wakes him almost every night screaming. But at least he sleeps in on those mornings, both boys do, to catch up on the sleep they missed overnight.

Those few hours with the boys fast asleep morning and night are the only times you and Seungcheol get to be entirely alone, which doesn’t make much of a difference as mostly, you simply carry on like normal, just with more kissing as you don’t have to worry about the boys seeing.

But sometimes, it means Seungcheol wakes you with soft, minty kisses to your cheek and coaxes you into the bathroom half asleep where you let him brush your teeth then strip you down to place into the large bathtub of perfectly warm, soothing scented water.

At first, he had been shy about stripping with your sleepy, yet very interested, gaze stuck on his body. But after you’d pointed out that he’s now seen you naked many times from being the one to wash you at the hospital for almost three months, he sucked it up and quickly got naked to join you in the tub to hold you and enjoy the peaceful early mornings with you.

Of course, you had tried to initiate some physical intimacy a few times, but by now, you’ve given up and just enjoy the calm of a quiet house with him as you softly talk about things that neither of you think to ask or bring up at other times.

It’s like these mornings in the tub leaning into one another open you both up, heart and mind, and allow you to discuss topics that are usually silently left out of sight. Mostly, you talk about your pasts, your families, and the fucked-up shit you’ve both done being raised in ruthless gangs. Comparing scars both figuratively and literally.

“This one,” Seungcheol murmurs, tracing his fingers over a scar barely visible behind your left ear.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you admit; a worryingly common response for both of you when the other questions scars that you can’t recall the root of. You both have too many scars, too much trauma to remember it all clearly. “How old does it look?”

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully and leans in closer to peer at the scar. “Very.”

“Maybe from torture training.”

“I hate that they did that to you.”

“So did they, in the end. The very thing they taught me is the same thing that made me able to withstand all the shit they did that day in the basement.”

“They didn’t even want you, why did they fucking punish you like that for leaving?” He grunts and nuzzles into your messily tied up hair for his own comfort. He does that a lot; gets closer to you when he’s upset about your past, how you were treated. He knows that you don’t hold on to anything in the past, and those things that linger in your mind you fix however you can; like how you treated Seungkwan that day even if Seungkwan had tried to bat away your apology and insisted you didn’t need to say sorry when he didn’t hold it against you. So Seungcheol doesn’t do it for your sake, but entirely his own; to soothe his aching heart at the thought of all you were forced to endure, all the scars on your skin that he wishes you never had to gain.

“They weren’t punishing me,” you point out, earning a confused noise. “They wanted information on you, the estate.”

“What?” He straightens up and holds your face to turn you to look at him. “They tortured you like that to get information out of you?” You nod. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine, I’d endure anything to protect my family.”

Seungcheol’s expression softens before he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips. “I hope you never have to face anything like that again.”

“Me too, I don’t think the doctors will be impressed if they have to give me another fake kneecap.”

Seungcheol laughs and shakes his head a little yet says nothing more and just settles back down with you in his arms.

You sit for a little while longer before a question you’ve been wondering for a long time comes to your mind. “Cheolie?” He hums to show that you’ve got his attention, not that it was anywhere but on you already. “What happened to your parents?”

“Ah, I guess you were bound to ask one day,” he understands with a sigh. “I don’t know the details, nobody does really, and I really don’t want to know either. I just know I came home one day and found my dad’s body on the floor outside of the kitchen with the door closed, his gun in one hand and a note in the other addressed to me.”

“What did it say?”

“That he had to take his own life because he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without my mother, or the guilt of knowing that in a moment where his mind had run away, he killed her. He told me not to go into the kitchen and to call his right-hand to deal with their bodies, and that from now on, it’s all mine.”

“Oh…”

“Mm, yeah, despite what people think, I didn’t murder my own fucking father to get all this quicker. I didn’t even want it really. I always wished they would pop out another kid and last long enough that the kid would be an adult by the time I had to take over, just so I could pass it right over to them. But I was twenty when they died and no kid in sight.”

“You didn’t want the gang?”

“No, I knew what all this meant; the danger and pressure of leading the Centaurs. I never wanted it, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Couldn’t you have passed it to his right-hand, or someone else who knows how to run it all?”

“Technically, I suppose I could’ve, but my family started this gang centuries ago; back when they used to ride horseback and gained the name for how in tune with their horses they were, how no-one could beat a Choi on horseback. It’s a legacy and even though part of me hates it all, all the blood on my family’s hands, I’m also too proud of all my ancestors built and kept going for these years that I can’t let it go.”

“Hansol will inherit it.”

“Oh, I purposely misspelled his name on his birth certificate, so he has a valid excuse not to if he doesn’t want to.”

“You did what?” You sputter a laugh and look at him. “You misspelled his name?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“I’ve never seen his name written down.”

“Oh, well, yeah, Choi is C-H-O-I but his is C-H-W-E.” You can’t help but laugh again. “It’s kind of stupid, huh?” He chuckles and pulls you back against his chest, tucked up under his right arm side by side.

“It is, but it also makes sense. Has he questioned it?”

“Yeah, I blamed his mother being American and barely knowing Korean.” You can only laugh harder. “He’s asked for me to change it to the correct spelling, but I told him I can’t do that, I only get one chance to name him, and I used it up so it’ll have to wait until he’s an adult and can do it himself.”

“Oh, that’s kind of evil, but also genius.”

“I have my moments.”

“You do,” you agree and shuffle around so that you can face him. “I was wondering if you’ll do something.”

“What?”

“Adopt Chan with me.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise. “I don’t want either of us to be associated with our father anymore so I want to change his surname and well, I’m going to adopt him anyway, so he’s legally under my care and if you adopt him with me, he can take your family name. We can spell it C-H-W-E and Hansol can officially have that little brother he wants.”

“Are you serious?” He whispers and you nod. “He would legally be our son.”

“Well…legally I guess, but I’m his sister and I have no intention of changing my title to mama, I think that’d probably be a little weird. You’d still be his Sunny.”

“His what?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you that?” Seungcheol shakes his head slightly, looking a little baffled. “He struggles to say Seungcheol, so he’s been calling you Sunny since pretty much the start.”

“Oh…that’s so fucking cute.” He grins.

“It is,” you agree. “Suits you, cutie Cheolie.”

“Ah, shut up,” he blushes and tries to turn you away from him so you can’t see his shyly pinkened cheeks, but you refuse and instead climb onto his lap. “Baby,” he warns, gripping your hips to keep your body on his lower thighs and prevent you getting closer.

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent, you can’t sit on me when we’re naked, it’s too risky.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you don’t wanna fuck me.” You roll your eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

“That’s really not the issue here. I’ve given up on getting to make our first time how I wanted to back then, we never have time to. And you were right, we never know what’s going to happen and I’m not going to blue ball myself for the sake of being a romantic sap.”

“What?” You deadpan. “Are you saying that there is no viable reason we haven’t already fucked?”

“It’s risky, we only have alone time and privacy in here and it’s not possible to put a condom on under water, not that I have any in here anyway.”

“We don’t need that,” you wave a dismissive hand and try to move closer, but he grips you tighter. “Cheol, come on, before the boys wake.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what? You know my health; you know I don’t have anything transmissible!”

“I do,” you immediately lean back from him with a concerned expression. “Not like that, I worded that really fucking wrong. I have no diseases or anything either, all good to go in that sense.”

“Okay, then what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have another baby.”

“Great, I don’t want one either, glad we cleared that up.”

“Baby,” he groans and pushes you even further away when you try to get closer, making you give up and slump against the side of the tub on your right.

“I just want your cock, why are you so mean to your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?” You complain forlornly.

“Trust me, I want to give it to you, but I don’t want to risk getting you pregnant, baby.”

“Ohhh,” you finally understand what he’s been trying to say and straighten up. “I’m sterile.”

“What?”

“Medically, dad sent me to do it as soon as I was old enough, he didn’t want me to breed and sully the family name further than my existence already does.”

He gawps at you appalled. “What the fuck? Your dad forced you to have that done?”

“Yeah, but I’m honestly glad now, even if I hated him for it as soon as I realised what he had done to me. I used to want kids, but then I realised that I’d be bringing a child very likely like me into this world and I don’t want to force that on anyone. I’ve faced enough shit being born with a disability I have no control over that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially another innocent kid.”

“Oh…I see.”

“Yep. So, gonna fuck me now?”

“Fucking hell,” he exhales and slumps a little as he closes his eyes for a moment. “You really do have a one-track mind when sex is mentioned.”

“It’s you, I’ve never cared for it before, but I really want your cock, Cheolie.”

“What time is it?” You look over at his phone on the counter beside the tub and read the time out to him, letting him know that you definitely have time before the boys should wake up.

Before you’ve even turned to face him, he’s pulling your body right up against him with every intention of finally giving you what you’ve been wanting for months now.

Over time, Chan’s nightmares lessen, and he opens back up.

It starts with him talking to Hansol one day out of the blue; almost a complete sentence that makes Hansol bounce excitedly and run to tell you as soon as Chan is occupied again.

Then a few weeks later, Seungcheol walks into the playroom while you’re sitting with the boys playing a board game and hears Chan talking away and tries to leave rapidly so as to not discourage your brother, yet he falls and draws attention. Chan simply gets up and walks over to check on Seungcheol with a soft “you okay, Sunny?” and ever since, he’s talked to Seungcheol at every opportunity and the man never fails to give him his attention with big, awe filled eyes.

The very first time Chan talks to Seungkwan, the man has to leave the room, overcome with emotions and cries happily into Junhui’s chest as the cook pouts, wishing to be blessed with Chan’s voice too.

And Junhui is the next person Chan talks to, then Mingyu, then all of the other men one by one until his voice can be heard happily yelling and giggling with Hansol all around the house with no fear of who will hear him.

Though, he still goes nonverbal sometimes, so everyone in the house learns sign language. With everyone trying their best and often opting to use sign language instead of talking, you all pick it up quickly. It becomes so natural to walk past rooms with silent conversations happening within, even without Chan present.

So much has changed in the house and although you had been worried that it would be too much for the occupants, you can’t deny that everyone seems to be so happy and content with the changes, enough that you even admit to them all over dinner one day that you’re autistic too, which most of the men are simply pleased that you trust them enough to tell them.

However, Jihoon is utterly bewildered by the news. Apparently, he thinks you two are very similar in many ways, so he truly didn’t expect to hear you say as much, yet his own words just lead the men to teasingly suggest he see a professional and get his own diagnosis.

Then a few days later, Jihoon approaches you with some papers shyly and asks you to sit with him in his office, where he shows you the papers: print outs and research about autism in adult males. There are a lot of sections highlighted or circled and when you ask, he tells you those are the bits he relates to, so he thinks that maybe the guys might be right and he’s autistic too.

Though even after talking to him and walking through it all with Jihoon and telling him some bits of what it’s like for you, much of which he relates to, he decides not to get an official diagnosis. He says it’s enough to just know and have you to talk to and finally understand why his mind works in ways he once thought were normal yet discovered in his adult life aren’t typical for every person like he assumed.

When Jihoon tells the group a few nights after making his decision to not get a diagnosis, they all look at him in surprise and admit they were joking but they’re happy for him and glad he finally feels like he knows himself better.

Which is something you think is constantly happening with you too; that every now and then since moving into this house all those months back, you discover something new about yourself, something you had never been allowed to learn before coming here.

You now know that you do love cars; the mechanics of them and working out how to fix them all like a giant 3D puzzle that you could spend hours mulling over with Jihoon without either of you noticing the time fly by.

You now know that despite what your father tried to drill into you, you are fully capable of loving and being loved; your found family proves that every single day just by accepting you in your entirety.

And perhaps most importantly, you now know that even if you’re still figuring things out, even if you spend the rest of your life finding out who you are little by little, it’s okay. No matter what version of you wakes up in the morning, there can be another version of you by the time you go to sleep.

Some days, the version of you that you wake with struggles a lot, and some days you don’t struggle at all. Some days you think you’ve got yourself all figured out only to realise the next day that you don’t know yourself as well as you thought you did.

But every day, you know that it’s okay; it’s okay to struggle and to not understand, it’s okay to have days where you don’t feel right in your own skin and where you feel like you never will feel right, because they don’t last forever. They come and go, just like the sun and moon, they rise and fall, leave and come back; sometimes they’re gone for longer, other times they remain for longer. But you know that for every bad day, every struggle, there will also be good.

You’re learning a lot about yourself and the world around you and you hope that through it all, through all you discover, you will be able to remember at your core that every version of yourself is completely valid, and no matter what you were once told and tricked into believing for so long, you are not worthless in any way.

You are worth more than the cruel words of an irrelevant asshole and so long as you remember that and keep those words burning bright in your chest, you will always be able to rise above whatever life throws at you and keep moving forward to learn exactly who you are.

No matter what this big, often painfully cruel world forces upon your weary shoulders, as long as you stay true to who you are, you will always be okay in the end.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

Finding Yourself taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @gaslysainz, @whoisbaek15, @cherry-zip, @minhui896, @choco-scoups, @coupsvi, @reiofsuns2001

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS: WILLIAM’S LETTER

╔═.✾.═══════════════════╗

To my beloved (name),

I do not know if you will ever read this letter, considering the hurtful things I said to you. Nothing I can say on this measly piece of paper will ever get you to forgive me, nor do I expect that you will. I've instructed Sherlock to give you this letter, but if he somehow never receives the instructions to do so, I've also asked Instructor Jack to do the same.

I apologise for everything I have ever done to both you and those around you. I'm sorry for telling you I do not love you, that was a lie. Possibly the biggest lie I have ever told you or anyone else for that matter. I adore you with every inch of my being. I could never even imagine another universe where I do not love you. I don't remember when I had come to this conclusion, but I believe it may have been a gradual thing although my heart burned for you all the while.

From the moment we first met, I felt we were one in the same. We were the only two students who were both sixteen years of age in that library, although I doubt you'd remember such an encounter. I told you I wasn't very fond of the tempest, which you were reading, but each time since then that I encountered the play, it would remind me of you. Our entire university experience together remains my most fondest memory, each study session was a safe haven, allowing me to forget how truly terrible this world is and how I am even worse.

I have hurt you and although I can explain my actions, they can never be excused. I was selfish and I should have been honest with you. If I am to regret anything I have done, it would be making you cry the last time I saw you. The last time I would ever see you.

I more than anyone knows what you are capable of. Anything you put your mind to, you receive. It is common knowledge considering how many extraordinary things you have done. I had known you would attempt to convince me to stay and perhaps go as far as to follow me to my well deserved death. Pushing you away through hurting you was effective, but never right.

I wish that I could go along with your plan, go to (home country) with you, my brothers, our friends and be there for you as you have our child, take care of you and forever remain in your loving arms. I would embrace you and be affectionate with you as much as you'd like. I'd be by your side. I'd be able to love you freely

That isn't possible though.

I would like for you to move on and love someone who will be able to love you how I never will be able to. Selfish though I am, I do want you to be happy, even if it is not with me. Perhaps you will find a good man who can cherish you and our child.

I have declared my love for you multiple times in this letter, but that is all meaningless when there is so much I must apologise for.

I'm sorry for insulting you and making you cry, which is possibly my worst sin. I'm sorry for not being able to be present in our future child's life. I'm sorry for forcing you to live a new life that you weren't prepared for. I'm sorry for not informing you thoroughly of my plans, even though I promised to. I'm sorry for breaking that promise.

Most of all, I'm sorry for ever meeting you, you didn't deserve that at all. You deserved a good and happy life. Had I not met you, you would've been much happier, marrying a man who would be able to love you how I never will be able to. You would have been able to return to (home country) like you planned and you would've been able to live to your greatest potential as the best duchess the world would have ever known.

For a significant portion of my existence, I dedicated myself to protecting my heart. I took such great care that I could easily pretend not to possess one. Even till my death, it remains a worn-out, infested, and blemished entity, yet it belongs to you, only you. My entire being is yours and forever will be. It aches for you, for your love and graciousness, even to be merely held by your soft hands. I adore you, with every inch of my being, and it is my greatest sin, not that I had killed so many, but that I was unable to give you what you deserved, the marriage you wanted, with love and respect rather than the one I gave you, with it's lies and deceit. I fear I may have used you for my own purposes, from the moment I had pleaded with you to join me and become my wife to when we had conceived the child I wish I could have met.

I love you, and I will think of you constantly in my last hour. Even after I take my final breath, after my heart gives its final beat and I cease to exist as both the Lord Of Crime and your husband.

With regret and love,

Your husband, William or rather _____.

╚═══════════════════.✾.═╝

[sazandorable]

akai shuuichi

For nearly a year now I have been plagued by awareness of and lust for Akai Shuuichi from classic manga/anime series Detective Conan, of all things. It never stops. It keeps getting worse. My friends with me in the fandom are angels of patience, indulgence and gentle teasing, but for everyone out of that loop I need to explain.

Akai Shuuichi.

He's got striking green eyes and identifiably long lashes.

He is so tall, wears leather jackets, and often has one or both hands in his pockets.

He's left-handed.

He smokes.

He drives cool cars.

He has lived in the UK, in Japan, and in LA.

He used to have princess long hair he was super proud about. He chopped it all off after "a bad breakup" (more on this later).

Most of the time he looks like death badly warmed over in a prehistoric microwave oven. Bags under his eyes, sharp boney facial structure that makes his face look like a skull, an entire scene dedicated to him dropping a can of shitty coffee in dramatic slow-mo, apparently out of exhaustion. I want to bundle him in a huge duvet and spoonfeed him chicken soup.

He is so fucking smart.

He is so fucking funny in a deadpan way.

He looks so serious but does the wildest shit like it's a normal (and easy) thing to do.

He is a sniper. An absurdly good one.

Also excellent physical fighter. He's so cool, he doesn't do karate or judo like the protag's close allies or even boxing like Sherlock Holmes -- he does Jeet Kune Do like Bruce Lee.

He is good at everything.

He's FBI, one of their best.

He doesn't say shit but understands everything.

At any given point you have no idea where the fuck Akai is and what he's doing, but he'll always be where he's needed.

Hottest trait: reliable. Unfailingly reliable.

He infiltrated the big bad meanie shadow organisation at the heart of the series' overarching plot and became a very high-ranking member of it.

Now that he's been found out and burned, the common reaction to Akai Shuuichi from members of that organisation is "shit, he's our biggest threat, kill kill kill".

A guy from the organisation once realised he was being chased by the Akai Shuuichi and immediately shot himself in the head rather than deal with him.

Another shot himself after having been dealt with by Akai Shuuichi.

To be fair, it's apparently the guideline of the org to not leave loose ends and not get caught alive, but still. This doesn't happen with other characters.

He was a honey pot.

His seduction method was to let his target hit him with her car and then hit on her when she visited him in the hospital.

He ended up catching genuine feelings for her. Then she got killed, so now he has angst about that.

He refers to wanting to avenge her death and kill the guy that killed her as "I'll make my girlfriend cry tears of scarlet blood in regret for ever dumping me".

He says to himself "Hi, my precious, precious lover ❤" while sniping at the man who killed her through that guy's own sniper scope from over 700 yards away.

Hits him, too. 600+ episodes later the guy still has the scar on his cheek and touches it occasionally.

He also dated a FBI colleague, whom he first met when they bumped into each other and he pointed out she should apologise too because "the blame was 50/50".

She was super offended. And then she dated him.

Another, male, colleague once referred to Akai Shuuichi as "my wife".

The official resident Pretty Boy fanservice man is obsessed with him because he believes Akai caused the death of his own childhood friend(/boyfriend).

It was actually the pretty boy's own fault. For incomprehensible reasons, instead of ever telling him that, Akai "the blame is 50/50" Shuuichi takes on that responsibility and even tells him he still feels sorry about it, and lets this incredibly dangerous man repeatedly try to out and/or kill him and put so, so many people in danger in an attempt to get his revenge. It is all incredibly homoerotic.

He still humiliates this guy every time they meet, and sometimes when they don't.

He's so sweet about so many upsetting things like this or his own honeypot girlfriend incident, but also so ruthless about others. He'll do anything to get a foot into the shadow organisation. He'll use himself as bait. He'll use a colleague who idolises him as decoy (with his knowledge and consent). He'll use a 6yo as scout. He'll use a comatose woman, her little brother, your crush's dad, your dad, his ex, himself again.

"No, Conan-kun, don't get your loved ones entangled into this, what we do is dangerous and sometimes we get people killed. Anyway let's use this entire hospital full of injured civillians for a high-risk trick." - Akai Shuuichi

He's so sweet and also such a dick.

He also has daddy issues because his father was MI6 and seems to have died on the job in mysterious circumstances.

He's an oldest brother.

Because of his choice to start a dangerous job after what happened to his father and various other plot reasons, he is estranged from his remaining family they don't even share a last name anymore.

He and his little sister barely know each other, but she's emulating him and looking for him and trying to know him and it's so sweet. He can't let that happen for both of their safety, but also he's being a dick about it.

He faked his death.

So he's currently on his 4th name (that I know of).

He's now pretending to be a 5 years younger phD student with pink hair, glasses, and turtlenecks.

The turtlenecks are for hiding the fact that he's constantly wearing a voice-changing device. The device is a metal choker.

He's now living his best domestic quiet life at the hero's parents' manor-like house, reading their books and drinking their booze.

The hero's dad, who is a very popular author, wrote a book inspired by him. The book inspired by him got adapted into a movie and won an award.

The hero's mom, who is an incredibly talented and famous actress and a total hottie, has a crush on him. She taught him to cook.

Sometimes he drops by the neighbours' to share a meal he cooked with the old man and little girl living there and the kids often visiting. The kids told him his curry was not that great so he's working on it.

For another meal that failed to satisfy, he read cookbooks then asked an old lady to teach him the special recipe that had emotional value to her.

Man who is good at everything is not good at cooking. So he's learning that. From the women in his life. For the kids in his life.

He's so fond of the hero. They get each other and they don't usually run into anyone who does. They like each other so much. Autistic to autistic communication.

The hero is in the body of a 6-year-old. Akai is so impressed with him and thinks he's so cool and talks to him like an equal.

One time they went fishing and for a cover the hero called him "daddy".

Akai Shuuichi knows he's a weapon of destruction and can do pretty much anything. He's not a brag about it, just practical. He is basically the hero's on-call guard/attack dog now.

When the hero needs help, he calls Akai-san, and Akai says yeah, I followed the situation, I was waiting for your call, I know what you're going to ask me to do. Point me at the target and I'll take care of it.

And then he just does that.

In the latest movie, the hero needs to take care of an armoured submarine that is currently underwater and doesn't get picked up by radards. Akai goes "ok, I can handle that".

He shows up in a helicopter with an American rocket launcher and is like "ok, just show me where it is". The hero just has to light up the submarine for a couple seconds. Then Akai one-shots it. From the helicopter. While it's still underwater.

Then he goes home.

(To the hero's parents' home.)

This is Akai Shuuichi with little resources and lots of constraints, such as being an FBI agent in Japan not supposed to be there or do anything, certainly not use weapons, and by the way legally dead and cannot let the organisation know he's still alive because that would endanger several other people.

He plays the accordion.

[nthspecialll]

The survivors

Sometimes I think about the survivors of the Van Der Linde gang scattered across the map and beyond, each of them carrying the same wound that was left with the break of their family and how they try to remember them.

Both Trelawny and Tilly lives in Saint-Denis, I wonder if they ever bumped into one another a few years later, looking at each other across the street, just trying to process the face before them and the time and people that it pulls them back to. The happiest yet the most tragic time for both of them.

They probably crossed the road, meeting half way, their respective parntners holding eye contact for a moment and knowing immediately "oh, they know each other from... that" allowing the two the moment.

I wonder if Tilly cried to Trelawny , telling him how it felt to be there in the end after he left, finally having someone who understands her, and I wonder if Trelawny offered to hunt the others down like he used to. One last chase, one last time searching for the Van Der Lindes, whatever remained of them.

Mary-Beth was probably shocked when she saw Trelawny standing there in Valentine, waving at her with his usual charm, yet a bit of sorrow hidden in his voice. He probably strolled up to her, told her about Tilly and asked her to come visit as they walked together down to Horseshoe Overlook, Mary-Beth telling him about the adventures they had there.

Trelawny probably didn't struggle to find Pearson in Rhodes either, the hollow man with the picture of the old gang on the wall, who could barely look down the street without thinking of the hole in poor Sean's head and who would daily walk down to Clemens Point just to remind himself.

Pearson agrees to meet with Tilly and it becomes a monthly thing, often joined by Mary-Beth. They were held together by their common trauma, their unusual common past.

Trelawny was probably the one who found out about Karen and the fact she had drunken herself to death and had to hang his head low and let Tilly know.

Strauss was beaten to death, he had read that in the newspapers, Uncle was a bit harder to find, staying out of trouble yet also ending up in debt with some ugly men Trelawny could call in favour with. They talk and he brings him to TIlly, but they don't keep in touch.

For the remaining it took years, Trelawny searched up and downand at some point, early 1907 he found Charles fighting in Saint Denis. He told Charles about Tilly and was visibly able to see a weight being lifted off the man's shoulders, but he was too scared of brining back any bad luck to the happy Tilly and stayed away.

John had covered his, Jack's and Abigail's tracks from the law and him. Sadie he found out too late had been in the country but made her way to South Africa to work.

Trelawny stands left, he found them, just like he had done for years, except there is none left now, only John, John who has disappeared into thin air, a bad dream with a bittersweet aftertaste. He doesn't know what to do so he does the one thing he is good at, searching. His wife tells him to stop and although he shortly tries he can't, he too misses the past and wants it back no matter how much the words Arthur spoke to him telling him to leave and not look back had burned themselves into his skull. Searching is what he does, he can do nothing else.

At some point he finds John, after years he finally finds John's name in the newspaper, except it is too late and the only thing that remains of the man is two headstones with his and his wife's name, Abigail's last name replacing Roberts with Marston.

Jack is there too, he doesn't remember Trelawny, but Trelawny remembers him. He sees John's features in the young man who used to have twenty people there to care for him but because of one man now stood alone, the young man who would hopefully outlive the rest of the gang, except he probably wouldn't as he carried a gun and John's hat.

Trelawny knew then that the boy would suffer the same fate his uncle hat and he knew that a few years from then his search would lead to yet another early grave or a name scratched in the book of a jailor.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Afterlife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Fire On Fire - Sam Smith

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon thought that staying with you would be giving you a death sentence, he thought breaking up would protect you better than he ever could. He was so wrong in the end and regrets it deeply.

Word count: 6.966

Masterlist

Flashbacks are paragraphs in italics!

TW!! Mention of character death, suicide.

If this triggers you then please don’t read it!

Simon has never been easy, he has reminded you of that fact countless times. He doesn’t open up easily, he rarely shows affection, and rarely says ‘I love you’. But on the other hand, he’s insanely loyal. Willing to go to impossible ends to stick with you. He’s so incredibly protective, he’d go to any means necessary, especially in this line of work, to keep you safe from danger. Even if it means sacrificing his happiness, and letting you go. He’d never meant to just take your love for him for granted. No, that was never his intention. But when his identity gets leaked to the enemies, and they’re threatening him with you? Common sense flies out the window and he has one thing on his mind. Keeping you safe. Even though he knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself and others, he isn’t looking at this matter from a soldier’s point of view. No, he’s looking at it as your lover.

So when he goes home to pick some stuff up for you two at the barracks. For once, he’s actually in shock. His apartment, your shared apartment has been ransacked. No doubt by the people wanting to watch him burn. They have figured out where you live. Your safe sanctuary has become unsafe, and he hates it. This is his last straw. He’s doing this for your own good, he keeps telling himself that. He takes his time in the apartment. He grabs the stuff you’ve asked for and whatever he needs. But he also looks at every single object that reminds him of you. He glances around your shared bedroom. All of the little things remind him of the time you spent together. He looks at your guitar that is resting on the wall next to your dresser. You’ve always loved music, in all shapes and forms. You loved making your own music. Composing and singing songs for him. You loved listening to your playlists while working out. Playlists you made him listen to and he slowly grew to love. Now he can’t start his workout without having the music blasting in his ears.

His favorite song of yours though? Definitely the first one you wrote. You called it ‘Fire On Fire’, and you explained that it sums up your relationship perfectly. Both are insanely protective of each other, in the field you use it as an advantage. Always make sure to be paired up, you two get the job done efficiently without any casualties. When you two work it’s like a choreographed dance. You always know what the other is thinking. He remembers the times when he had nightmares, and let's face it, it happens frequently. You would softly sing this song to make him go back to sleep. And he would sleep without nightmares those nights.

You walk into his small office in your shared apartment happily and excitedly. “Simon!” He looks up at hearing you call his name. He casts a look at the papers waiting to be signed by him on his desk. He shoves the papers aside. Ready to give you his undivided attention. “What is it, lovie?” You grin at him, “I finished it! I finally finished it!” You say happily. He looks at you confusingly for a moment, “what did you finish?” You chuckle, “the song! Do you want to hear it? If you’re not too busy of course.” He casts another look at the papers before smiling up at you, “I’m never too busy for you, lovie. Let’s hear it.” You clap happily, “great let’s go!” You drag him by the hand to your bedroom. Where your guitar is resting on the bed. You grab it and sit down on the bed. You smile at him sheepishly, “I’ve figured out the lyrics for the whole song but I still need to figure out the melody I want to use. The chorus, however, is done. I’ll sing and play it for you.” He nods at you for you to continue. You play a few chords before starting.

“Fire on fire, would normally kill us.”

You start with a shaky breath. Slightly nervous of what he might think. As if he can read your mind. He smiles at you and motions for you to continue. He mouths, ‘you’re doing great.’ This sparks your confidence and you sing with a brighter tone.

“With this much desire, together we’re winners.”

You close your eyes as you let yourself get carried away by the song.

“They say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners.”

“But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms.”

“Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me.”

“And look in my eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at Simon, who’s staring at you with an awestruck look on his face. You smile at him.

“You are perfection, my only direction.”

“It’s fire on fire,” you hum, “fire on fire.”

You close off the song as you slowly stop playing. You put the guitar down, “so what do you think, my love?” Simon is still staring at you with an awestruck expression. “It’s perfect lovie. You outdid yourself.” You give him a shy smile, “I wrote it for you, to remind you of the love that I feel for you. That I’m always there for you, no matter what happens.” He stays silent before engulfing you in a tight hug. You widen your eyes but hug him back nevertheless. You could get used to this warm fuzzy feeling.

He sighs and leaves the bedroom. He enters the living room. He looks sadly at the overturned furniture and broken glass everywhere. Yet despite all of this, this is still your home. No matter how run down it gets, the memories will stay and be there forever. Serving as reminders from the once-happy couple. He looks at the pictures that are, surprisingly, still hanging on the walls. Pictures that have his face hidden, in every single one. You’ve respected his wishes by not putting up pictures with his face revealed. He looks at one particular picture.

Today the 141 was granted some time off. Bonding time for the team, as Price calls it. You’re all dressed casually. No one would guess that you’d be highly trained individuals looking like this. Well except for Simon, for he’s still donning his iconic skull balaclava. You’ve come up with the idea to have an outdoor picnic so that you all can relax and share food. Everyone prepared a little something for the picnic. John brought some sandwiches, Kyle brought lemonade, Johnny brought cupcakes, you and Simon prepared various fruits covered in chocolate. Your spot is surrounded by all different kinds of flowers. The big wide smile that you’re wearing on your face has made Simon’s entire year. After you’ve eaten. You decide that running around the flower fields will be a great idea. You beg Simon to run around with you, saying that it’ll be fun. Knowing Simon has a hard time saying no to you, you give him a small pout and he instantly agrees. Albeit a little begrudgingly. You drag him through the fields as you let out loud boisterous laughs while Simon is smiling behind his balaclava. You can tell by the way his eyes crinkle and sparkle in delight. Johnny takes a picture of you two sneakily. Knowing Simon would beat his ass if he found out. But in the end, it’s worth it, this will be one of your most cherished memories.

He smiles fondly at the memory that comes through when he stares at the picture. His smile slowly fades from his face. Maybe he doesn’t need to break up with you, you’re fully capable and he can protect you if anything were to happen. But what if something does happen? He could’ve prevented it all if he just didn’t let his resolve break. No, he has to do it for your sake. He’d rather have you hate him and be alive than you still loving him and dying because of him. He heads to the front door and takes one last look around. You’ll have to be relocated, and preferably far away from him for your safety. Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. He nods and closes the door behind him. He’s not ready to close this chapter but he has to. It’s the right thing to do. He heads back to you, reciting in his head what he’ll say to you in the meantime. Yet every time he chokes up and can’t think of what to say. He’ll have to wing it and hope he doesn’t look as pathetic as he sounds.

Once he makes it back to base, he’s on a hunt for you. He can feel his gut twisting in ways that make him nauseous. He wants to back out, so fucking bad. But then he sees your dead figure and then reminds himself you’d be happier and safer without him. Without the constant figure of death looming behind him. Following him everywhere he goes. He eventually finds you in the commons room with the rest of the team. You didn’t notice him walking in until he stopped in front of you. “Simon! You’re back, did you get the stuff?” He shakes his head, “can we talk, privately.” You give him a worried look but nod and follow him to wherever he’s leading you. He eventually makes it to his office and holds the door open for you. You step inside as he walks up behind you. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. “Did something happen?” You ask him. He nods his head, “our place got ransacked. Probably the same people who found my real identity.” You widen your eyes before narrowing them, “okay. We’ll deal with them swiftly then. The faster the better, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath in, it’s now or never. He opts for now. “I don’t think they’re stopping there. And let’s be honest, our progress is slow.” You raise a brow, “we can push the mission, maybe the higher-ups will let us focus on them.” He shakes his head, “that’s not happening. Listen, I think it’s better we go our separate ways.” The distraught look on your face makes his heart shatter. “Wait what? Why? We can go through this together! You can’t just throw away what we have now!” He shakes his head, “they’ve already breached my privacy. How long will it take for them to find out about us? Do you know how dangerous that is for you? It’s for your own good.” He refuses to tell you they’ve already threatened him by using your name. You can feel anger flaring up. “So what?! I’m fully capable of defending myself! You of all people should know this, Simon!” He can feel his temper rising, “I know! I am fully aware! Don’t even think that I doubt you because I don’t.” He says the last part softly. Not wanting to argue with you, not like this. You cry out desperately, “then tell me Simon! What are you so afraid of?!” He looks you in the eye, “you!” You get stunned by his answer, before you can retort he continues, “I’m afraid of losing you.” He says with a small voice. You stare at him with an incredulous look, “yet you want to break up?! You know how ridiculous you are sounding right now?!” He stays silent. You scoff, tears welling up in your eyes. “So this is it then? Just like that?” He nods, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to get hurt if you stay with me.” Hearing that he’s determined in his decision you nod, accepting it. “I’ll see you on the next mission, lieutenant.” You turn around, ready to leave his office. He reaches out for your arm, grabbing it softly, “please, it doesn’t have to be like this.” You whip your head around, tears falling, “then how do you want it to be? You want to stay friends? Fine! I’ll see you around the base then.” You ramble out, not letting him speak before storming out. A few tears fell from his own eyes. He rubs his eyes aggressively, rubbing his black face paint everywhere. ‘Good job, Simon. You’ve ruined the only good thing you had in your life.’ He thinks to himself. ‘It’s for her own protection’ is ringing through his mind like a mantra, torturing him with the thought of you.

The next few months are hell for the both of you. You’ve been drowning yourself in work and composing more music, while Simon has been drinking his mind away. Wanting to forget the immense hurt look you had on your face when he said those regretful words. The rest of the team isn’t blind. They can see something happening between the two of you. They’ve tried talking to you both about it but only to get the same words back, “he broke up with me.”, “I did it for her protection.” Johnny having enough of both of your sulking moods, decided to try and fix whatever’s been broken between you both. He knocks on Simon’s door before turning the knob and letting himself in. “I think the point is to wait for an answer before you let yourself in.” Simon slurs out his words as he holds a glass of whiskey. Johnny frowns and takes the glass from him, “you’re out of your mind L.T.” Simon scoffs, “tell me something I don’t know.” Johnny raises an eyebrow, “you need to get your shit together. You’ve been miserable without each other. Everyone can see it, fucking hell even the birds can see it, except for you guys.” Simon chuckles dryly, “thanks for the pep talk Johnny, you can leave now.”

He frowns at Simon’s response. “Leaving her in the name of protection is so fucked up on so many levels, Ghost. If anything she’ll be in more danger without you by her side than without you. So I’m not requesting you. I’m demanding you to get your shit together, apologize to her, and get back together already.” Simon stays silent, thinking about it. Knowing he finally got through to the lieutenant he leaves to let him figure it out on his own. All he needed was a little step in the right direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve been summoned by Price. You walk into his office, which happens to be next to Simon’s. “You’ve asked for me Price?” He nods and motions for you to sit. “We have intel on a secret base to the north of here,” he says while pointing to a location on a map. “We need someone to quickly get in and out and retrieve more intel.” You nod along, “I’m guessing you want me to go in?” He nods, “that’s correct. I’m warning you, this will be a solo mission. The lesser the better, unless you want Ghost to come along.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ll go solo.” You state. He nods, “you leave tomorrow at 8 in the morning with Kyle, he’ll be your exfil.” You nod and leave, wanting to prepare for the mission.

Morning comes and you gear up together with Kyle. You head to the small heli that’ll bring you to the site. You can’t help but have a sinking feeling in your gut, you can’t tell whether it’s the pre-mission nerves or if it’s the heartache you’ve been experiencing for the past months. You load up into the heli and close your eyes as you listen to the rotors whirring. Trying to shut down so you could shake off the feeling but to no avail. Usually, Simon would help you. But this will be the first time in a while that you’d have to do without.

You sit in the chinook nervously. Nervous for the upcoming mission. At this rate, you’ll make yourself sick. Johnny is sitting to your left, giving you a worried look. You wave him off saying, “I’ll be fine in a minute.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push it. You close your eyes as you try to calm down. You can hear a heavy thud coming from your right. You ignore it as you’re more concerned with your nerves. Suddenly a hand engulfs your own and squeezes it. You crack open an eye and smile once you’ve realized who it was. It’s Simon, who’s staring at you with warm eyes through his mask. He doesn’t need to say anything, he can convey it all with his eyes. Instantaneously you can feel the nerves leaving. All you need is Simon and you’ll be alright.

You open your eyes. The sinking feeling has not left at all, if anything it only increased. Making you feel slightly nauseous. You notice Gaz looking at you concerned. He crouches in front of you and takes a hand of yours in his own, squeezing it like Simon did. You give him a small smile, appreciating his attempts. But in the end, it just isn’t the same. The helicopter lifts off and soars through the air. As the base gets smaller and smaller in the distance, you can’t help but feel that it might be the last time you’ll see the base. You feel your phone vibrating in your front pocket. You open up the pocket and fish out your phone. You frown once you see the lit-up screen. It’s Simon, of course it is. You choose to ignore it for now. Whatever he needs to say can wait until you return. Right now, you need to focus and get yourself and that intel home. Eventually, the heli slows down as it prepares to descend. The doors open as you leave the safe space. You check your comms once more before nodding to Gaz. “I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t do anything stupid.” He tells you. You chuckle at him, “as long as you don’t get into trouble I won’t either.” He rolls his eyes. You give him one last look before leaving.

As you make your way to the hidden base stealthily you can’t help but feel like something is not right. ‘Come on. You’ve been on countless missions like this with the team. It’s been fine then, it will be fine now.’ You think to yourself. You close off your mind as you trek through the dense vegetation. Eventually, the base emerges from the treetops. You lay down as you pull out your binoculars from your side. You spot a less guarded spot, that’s where you’re going to sneak in. You get up and make your way down from the overlook. While keeping watch of the guards around the spot you want to infiltrate. You notice they don’t have a set patrol, which might work in your favor later when you start taking down guards.

You approach the spot and hug the wall. You grab your grappler from your pack and launch it onto the railing of the wall. As you ascend the wall you take another look around, if you’re not careful they could see you and raise the alarm. You quickly ascend to the top and take out the guard hanging around that area. You shoot the next two with your silenced gun. You don’t bother hiding the bodies, it should be a quick in and out. You lean over the wall as you look around for the next entry point. From what you remember of the map that Price supplied you with, the office with the documents should be near your position. You quickly scan the main building looking for the office. Your eyes land upon a room. Bingo, that should be the office. You figure you could quickly make your way to a side entrance and make your way to the office from there. Any other entry point would be too risky, resulting in you getting caught.

You make your way down with a rope and head for the fire escape staircase. No guards are stationed there so it should be a quiet way in. You ascend the stairs and quietly open the door that leads to the building. You keep your gun up in case. Noticing no visible threat you let out a sigh of relief and start heading towards the office. Luckily you didn’t come across any guards on your way to the office. You entered the office quickly and closed it quietly behind you. You lower your gun and look around. ‘Right, any important papers and any other valuable intel is what I came for.’ You remind yourself. You head to the computer and start downloading files from it to a stick. Laswell can analyze that data later. You start making quick work of the drawers. Pulling out any important-looking documents and storing them in your pack. Once you’ve run out of stuff to take, you unplug the stick and store it as well. You take one last look around the office. You hold a finger to your comm, “Gaz. I got the intel. Heading to exfil now, eta 20 minutes.” You hear a ‘copy that.’ from Gaz as you swing the door open.

Only to be greeted with a pistol aimed at your head. You recognize him as one of the leaders of the organization. “I’ve been expecting you, sergeant.” You notice he’s alone, essentially you could make a move and make your escape. But he would likely try and shoot, thus alerting the whole base. It’s either that or get captured by them, which would lead to your demise. Preferring your chances with the first option. You raise an eyebrow at him, “well you aren’t expecting this.” You quip as you shove his arm upwards, making him shoot in surprise. Not even 5 seconds pass and you can already hear footsteps thundering in your direction. You shove him and make a run for it, knowing if you try and go for the kill, his henchmen will surely kill you. You leap through the door and close it shut behind you. You take a quick look at the positions of the guards. They’re all swarmed around you. There’s no way for you to get past them without getting injured. And you definitely don’t have the stopping power to brute force your way through.

You quickly radio Gaz to update him, “I’ve been made!” A bullet whizzes by your head. Gaz surely heard it too. Well shit, your position is now known. Shortly after more bullets are flying your way. You duck down, you try to come up with solutions. You can’t think of any right now. You’re just going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best. You shakily bring a finger up to your comms, “I need to make a run for it, there’s no other way!” You inform Gaz. You hear rustling on his end, “negative! Stay there and preferably out of sight. I’m coming to get you out of there!” He shouts out. You widen your eyes in shock. That’s a horrible plan. You voice out your opinion, “are you insane?! What is one person going to help?! There are hundreds of them versus us two!” You can hear him cuss. “Fuck! Okay, you listen to me right now! Take as much cover as you can, I’ll try and provide covering fire. I’m not far from the overlook, give me 1 minute.” You peak over the cover, and grimace. You might not have a minute. Some are getting ready to storm your position. You think, the main entrance is going to be full of them. They haven’t found out where you came from so they’ll expect you to exit via the main entrance. The way you came in is going to be your only option.

“Okay, I’m in position, whenever you’re ready.” You hear his voice crackle through the comms. You inhale and exhale. ‘Now or never.’ You think to yourself. You point your gun at the small squad at the base of the stairs. You open fire at them, mowing them down successfully. You quickly run down the stairs and make your way to the wall. You feel a hot pain in your shoulder. You’ve been hit. You don’t even need to look, you were going to get hurt one way or another. Not feeling much from it you continue running to the wall, using trucks and containers as cover. Not staying too long behind cover otherwise you’ll get overrun. Sometimes you can hear thuds around you, signaling that Gaz is doing a good job at providing covering fire. You make it to the wall in record time and start climbing the rope. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t get more injuries while scaling the wall. You brace yourself for whatever might come your way. You make sure the rope is still secure by tugging on it a few times. Satisfied with the sturdiness, you start climbing up. You can hear multiple rounds go into the wall next to you. Sooner than later bullets start embedding themselves all over you. Your legs, torso, and shoulders. You wince in pain as everything starts to burn with every move you make. You grit your teeth until you make it to the top.

You rest for a minute as you assess your injuries. You count at least five bullet wounds. You’re not making it out alive, that’s for sure. You grimace as you face the harsh truth. “You got to move! They’re closing in on you!” You can faintly hear Gaz’s voice ringing through your ear. You move through the pain, you have to at least try to make it back. You grit your teeth as you pull yourself up. You grab hold of the grappler again and start descending. You run as fast as you can away from the base. Shit, it burns. It burns badly. You just wish you didn’t have to sit through this pain for long. You make a safe distance away from the base. You rest against a tree. You definitely can’t make your way to the exfil point, at least not on your own. You slowly sink yourself to the floor. Your vision starts to blur, and gunshots get quieter and quieter. Either they stopped firing or you’re losing your hearing. You bet it’s the latter.

You start coughing. You’re coughing up blood. Internal bleeding. Great. As the pain starts fading into the background, your mind runs rampant. You lean your head back as you stare up at the sky. You chuckle weakly, “I’m sorry Simon.” You say to no one in particular. You just somehow wish that he could feel that you’re sorry. You know it hasn’t been easy for him either. And part of it is your fault. You’ve been pushing him away. Drowning in your own grief, that you failed to consider his feelings. Tears slowly start trickling down your face and into the muddy ground below you. “I’m so sorry Simon, I still love you, so so much.” You whisper out. Not having any strength anymore. You slowly close your eyes, losing the battle between you and the blood loss. Little did you know that your comms were still open and Gaz heard everything. If you can’t say it to him yourself then he will make sure he passes your message to Simon. In your stead. But first, he has to find you. He runs around, desperately trying to find you. Eventually, he spots a faint trail of blood. Knowing it has to be you, he follows it. Once he finds you he shouts your name. You being unresponsive worries him. He holds two fingers to your neck. Trying to find a pulse. To his relief, he finds one. It’s faint, but it’s there. He picks you up and carries you to the heli and demands for medics to be standing by at base, ready to receive you.

***

Simon heads to your room and knocks on your door, “(Y/n)? Can we talk?” It feels so weird to call you by your name. He used to always call you ‘lovie’. He frowns as he hears no answer. He’s about to knock on your door again until Johnny speaks up, “she’s gone.” Simon whips his head around to face him. “What do you mean she’s gone?” He asks. “She went on a mission that Price assigned her to.” Simon stares at him, “when is she supposed to be back?” Johnny checks his watch and frowns, “she was supposed to be back 15 minutes ago.” Simon frowns, a late arrival usually means bad news. He storms his way to Price’s office. “Why did you send her alone? Why didn’t you send me with her?!” He asks coldly. He sighs, “she can get in and out quickly, that’s why I asked her. And I did ask her, she said no. She said she’ll go solo. Gaz is with her to provide exfil.” Simon gives him a hard stare and leaves the office. He has no choice but to wait for you, and hope for the best.

Multiple minutes pass as he waits anxiously for you. Eventually, a commotion stirs him out of his zoned-out state. Several members of the medical staff run by in a frenzy. They’re shouting medical stuff at each other that he doesn’t understand. All he hears are, “critically injured inbound!”, “bring blood bags!”, and “prep for surgery!”. Suddenly everything goes in slow motion. ‘Critical, surgery, blood bags’ those are the words that are swirling through his chaotic mind. He closes his eyes and curses to himself. You can’t die. Not you. Anyone but you. He regrets many things in his life. But this will probably be at the top of his list if you don’t make it. Fuck. Why is he just standing here? Why can’t he do something useful for you, not even for one second? He has let you down continuously, and he hates it. He hears more commotion. It’s you being wheeled past him in a gurney with the same medical staff by your side, with a blood bag hanging over you, and more of them in the arms of a medic. He watches as you get wheeled into the infirmary. The state of you almost makes him gag. How the hell did you even get out of there alive? After being so long in the military, he knows someone with those injuries will not make it back, or stay alive for much longer. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing, no matter how weak it is, you’re still breathing.

He heads to the infirmary to wait for you. He wasn’t there for you during the mission, the least he could do is sit and wait for you. That if you’re alive after surgery, he could give you a heartfelt apology. Something that he rarely does. He sits in a chair and holds his head in his hands. A few minutes pass and he notices Gaz sitting next to him. He sighs, “what happened?” Knowing Gaz is the only one who can provide him with the answers. Gaz winces, “Ghost, I don’t think you want to know.” He feels growing frustrated with Gaz’s answers, “I fucking asked, didn’t I? Tell me, I want names.” Gaz sighs but resigns to his wishes, “it’s the same organization. She needed to get into an office to gather more intel. Turns out this whole thing was a trap. They were waiting for her outside the office door. One thing led to another and the whole base was sent upon her. I tried to give as much covering fire as I could. But she still got shot, multiple times. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “not your fault, I should’ve been there,” he mumbles out. Gaz scoffs, “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. There were way too many of them.” Simon gives him an empty look, “I would’ve gotten her out of that situation, at all costs.” Gaz shakes his head, “mate. I know how capable you are together but there’s no way you would’ve gotten out of there together in one piece.” He shrugs, “I never said I would get out of there, did I?” Gaz catches on to what he means, “are you saying you would lay down your life for her?” He nods, “she deserves to live more than I do.” Gaz can sense he doesn’t want to talk anymore so he drops it. Gaz eventually leaves, needing to debrief with the captain. Thus leaving Simon all alone.

Torturous hours pass by. He feels like her chances of surviving are dropping by the hour. Eventually, a trauma surgeon pops out of the double doors. He looks around before meeting Simon’s gaze. “Are you here for sergeant (Y/l/n)?” He nods, confirming his intentions. The surgeon drops his mask, showing Simon his grim face. “She’s alive, but she’s far from stable. We put her in an induced coma, to help her body recover from the injuries she sustained. It could last a couple of days up to weeks or several months. You may visit her if you wish. Try talking to her, it might stimulate her brain and thus make her wake faster.” Simon gives him a nod, “thank you.” The surgeon gives him a pitiful smile before leaving.

Simon enters the small room you’ve been put in. He frowns once he sees you lying on the bed. His breath gets caught up in his throat. He’s never seen you look so frail, fragile, weak, almost dead like. The only signs showing you’re still kicking are the monitor beeping and your chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He pulls up a chair next to your bed. He takes your hand in his. He has a million words to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he loves you, and how he took your love for granted. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, that he’s wrong for thinking breaking up would protect you. When in fact it’s the opposite. Every time he tries to convey these words to you, he can’t. The words get choked up, causing his sentence to become incoherent. So instead he opts for a simpler option, one that hopefully conveys all of his regrets in five words.

“I’m so sorry, for everything.”

The monitor beeps faster in response. He widens his eyes, you can hear him. He squeezes your hand. “I never should’ve let you go, lovie. It was a mistake on my part. When you wake up, I’ll take you to all of your favorite places. If you’ll have me back.”

During the next few days, it seems like you’re only regressing. Your body can’t keep up with all of the demands it needs to properly heal. Simon has been there, every hour, every day. The team has tried to drag him out to at least take a shower, but he refuses. Multiple what-ifs run through his mind. What if you wake up? And he isn’t there for you. Or what if you die? And he’s not there with you. It would break him. He’s not a fool, he knows your days are limited. He knows your chances of pulling through are close to none. So he stays there, talking to you and holding your hand. Squeezing it in intervals, to let you know he’s still there. He suddenly gets an idea in his head. What if he sings your song to you, would you appreciate that? Probably, he knows how much you love that song. So he sings.

“My mother said I’m too romantic. She said, “you’re dancing in the movies.””

“I almost started to believe her. Then I saw you and I knew.”

He starts tearing up, he might never hear you sing this song again. He might never hear your voice again. Your laughter, your giggles, your excitement. All of it. He might never hear them again.

“Maybe it’s ’cause I got a little bit older. Maybe it’s all that I’ve been through.”

“I’d like to think it’s how you lean on my shoulder. And how I see myself with you.”

He thinks of the domestic life you have behind the scenes. Away from the military. Where you would have movie marathons, forcing him to watch with you. He would pretend to hate it, but secretly. He adores the time spent with you. He thinks of all the times you would lean on him, no matter where you are. You would fall asleep on him, it’s the sense of safety that he gives you that puts you at ease. He starts choking up.

“I don’t say a word.”

“But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know.”

“There you go, saving me from out of the cold.”

He can’t continue anymore. His tears are not stopping, they continue to fall and get soaked up by his balaclava. He hasn’t cried in years, and yet here he is. Crying like a baby. He doesn’t want to let you go, but he knows it’s the right thing. If you’re not in pain then you will be when you wake up, if you wake up. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he cries. He pulls away and tries to compose himself, “it’s okay to let go if you’re hurting, lovie. I won’t be mad, I promise.” He notices that the beeping is slowing down. He gives a weak smile, even though you can’t see him. “I’ll love you forever and always, my love. Rest well, I’ll see you on the other side sometime. Hopefully, I get to properly apologize and take you around to all of the places you want to go.” He sobs as your heartbeat continues to slow until it ceases to beat. “I’ll be okay, lovie.” He whispers.

He was not okay. He was far from being okay. He thought that he’d be okay after your funeral, that he’d get the closure he was craving. It’s been weeks, and the pain is still there if not stronger. He can’t stand it. Sometimes his mind is playing tricks on him. Sometimes he can feel a cold air embracing him, as if you’re hugging him. Sometimes he can hear you say, ‘I love you.’ Or ‘I forgive you.’ He’s losing his mind, that is clear to anyone. His aim has been shakier, not as fast on his feet anymore. Fuck, he’s losing his touch.

Everyone is concerned, he sees the worried glances they throw in his direction. The way they avoid the topic of your death at all costs. He hates it, he hates how weak he’s become. He hates how they’re pitying him. One day he gets an idea. There’s a way for him to come see you sooner. Not a pretty one, but it’ll do. He dwells on it for the next few days. Not wanting to do anything rash. He has no family left that he gives a shit about. He only has the military going for him. But going at this rate, he’ll most likely get discharged because of his mental health. How he’s falling apart at the seams. Funny how he’s been alone for most of his life. Yet the instant something good enters his life it gets taken from him. He can’t function properly anymore after you died. Like taking candy from a baby.

Later in the evening. He skipped dinner, not bothering anymore. It’ll only be a waste on him. He writes a short note addressed to the 141. He explains that it’s not their fault. That he’ll be happier than if he stays here, without you. He places the note neatly on the corner of his desk. Knowing someone will come running once they hear the bang. He grabs the handheld gun he stores in his bedside drawer. He stares at the gun. Weapons have never felt heavy on his hand. Let alone handheld guns. Yet now it’s like the heaviest thing he’s ever lifted. He brings it up to his temple. He gets the easy way out, you had to suffer with at least five bullets in you. He closes his eyes and thinks of you. He smiles at the image he has painted in his head. A genuine smile, one that hasn’t appeared on his face in a long time. Again, he feels cold air engulfing him once again. He laughs, that has to be you comforting him. As you always do. He rests his finger on the trigger.

“I’ll see you in a minute, my love.”

He pulls on the trigger. In one second three things happen. A loud bang. Blood splattering. A thud.

One second he’s seeing black. Before he knows it, the next second he sees white. A figure slowly approaches him. He squints his eyes, trying to make out who that figure is. A smile creeps up his face once he realizes who it is. His lovie. You smile at him as you walk closer to him, “hi Simon.” Tears start welling up in his eyes. He says nothing as he pulls you into his strong embrace. You sigh but return the embrace, “it’s okay now, Simon. We have all of the time in the world.” He nods as tears start falling on your white clothes. You pull away as you chuckle. You wipe his tears away, “come. I’ll show you around. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so peaceful here.” You hold your hand out to him. He lets out a little laugh but nods and takes your hand in his, “okay. Show me, lovie.”

[postcrashcurly]

I don't know much about 'skin things' but I do have a little bit of information on it for those who are interested! (I hope you don't mind me using your comment). I'll be supplementing my knowledge with some research under the read more.

Skin grafting is a dermatological procedure utilized to facilitate wound closure.

We'll talk about some commonly used techniques:

1. Split-Thickness Skin Grafts (STSG) are composed of the epidermic and a superficial part of the dermis. These grafts are commonly used to cover large wounds, burns, and areas of skin loss. They are thinner than full-thickness grafts, which allows them to cover larger areas.

2. Full-Thickness Skin Grafts (FTSG) contain both the full epidermis and the dermis. These grafts are typically used for smaller wounds in areas where aesthetics and durability are essential, such as the face, hands, or neck. Since FTSGs retain the full dermal layer, they offer better cosmetic outcomes, including improved texture, pigmentation, and reduced scarring compared to split-thickness grafts. They also tend to resist contracture better, making them ideal for regions requiring flexibility. - FTSGs are more complex because they require a well-vascularized wound bed to survive and heal. - FTSGs are the most commonly used graft.

3. Composite Skin Grafts are usually small and include a combination of skin and underlying tissues, such as fat, cartilage, or muscle. These grafts are used to reconstruct areas where multiple tissue types are needed to restore both form and function, such as the nose, ears, or fingertips. - Composite skin grafts which combine allogeneic dermis and an expanded autologous epidermis can effect rapid wound closure.

It is further broken down by the following:

Permanent Skin Grafts

1. Autografts (autologous graft): skin collected from the patient 2. Isograft (syngeneic graft): skin collected from a genetically identical donor (twin)

Temporary Skin Grafts

1. Allocrafts (heterologous graft): skin from a cadaver (living donors are possible) 2. Xenograft (heterograft): skin from another species

Can be Temporary OR Permanent

1. Synthetic skin substitutes: use of manufactured skin - The only technique that is permanent is cultured epithelial autograft (CEA), which is essentially a skin graft grown from a patient's own skin cells.

NO NON-SELF TISSUE IS GUARANTEED TO COMPLETELY AVOID DEATH OR REJECTION.

Transplant Rejection: a patients immune system identifies the graft as a foreign body, which triggers an immune response to get "rid" of the tissue.

Skin implant compatibility is based on three highly polymorphic MHC genes (HLA-A, HLA-B, and HLA-C) that encode proteins and are a part of the Human Leukocyte Antigen (HLA) system. This system identifies foreign bodies.

Knowing this, the use of modified donor animals, such as pigs, to provide transplantable organs, is gaining some renewed research. It involves excising the genes in the pig that are most responsible for the rejection reaction after transplantation. However, finding these genes and effectively removing them is a challenge.

The use of autologous skin grafts is the most common approach in the treatment of chronic wounds. However, in the case of deep and/or large wounds or with extensive severe burns, the use of autografts is limited, and either allogeneic (from cadaver) or xenogeneic skin grafts are used for transplantation.

The use of allogenic/xenogenic tissue carries a high risk of graft rejection, limiting their clinical applications.

Tissue Engineering

Advanced therapies for chronic wounds involve application of bioengineered artificial skin substitutes to overcome graft rejection as well as topical delivery of mesenchymal stem cells to reduce inflammation and accelerate the healing process.

Photo shows potentially ideal artificial skin graft:

Modern treatment includes skin tissue engineering aiming to produce bioengineered biomaterial-based artificial skin grafts. Therefore, the main roles of bioengineered skin grafts is to supply oxygen (by being oxygen permeable), keep the wound from dehydration, promote healing, and prevent infections. - Depending on the type of biomaterial used for the production of artificial skin grafts, they may function as skin equivalents providing temporary wound covers or permanent skin substitutes. - When the biomaterials are pre-seeded or have cells incorporated within their matrix, they are classified as cellular artificial skin grafts, whereas biomaterials without or deprived of cells are defined as acellular artificial skin grafts.

Here are some current commercially available synthetic skin grafts I found applicable to Curly's injuries:

Definitions for Clarity: 1. Epidermal: Pertaining to the outermost layer of the skin. 2. Cellular Content: the complex structures and biomolecules that make up cells, the smallest units of life. 3. Acellular: not consisting of, divided into, or containing cells. 4. Fibroblasts: a cell in connective tissue which produces collagen and other fibers. 5. Keratinocytes: an epidermal cell which produces keratin (a fibrous protein forming the main structural constituent of hair).

Articles to Reference

Organ Transplantation and Rejection by Libretexts biology. LINK

(CW: Images) Skin Grafting by Joseph Prohaska and Christopher Cook. LINK

A Concise Review on Tissue Engineered Artificial Skin Grafts for Chronic Wound Treatment: Can We Reconstruct Functional Skin Tissue In Vitro? by Agata Przekora LINK

Composite skin graft: frozen dermal allografts support the engraftment and expansion of autologous epidermis by E L Heck, P R Bergstresser, C R Baxter LINK

[magic-is-something-we-create]

just got to write some very fun religious world building into fateweavers

i've kinda been thinking since a little before writing whispers about how like. yes the six Main Goddesses are 100% irrefutably confirmed to be real in the eyes of pretty much all of ehl. but that doesn't mean religion is always going to be the same everywhere. not only because only prophets can speak to them and they very very rarely get to ask questions of them and how they think religion should be done, but also because like. people are people. they wont all believe the same things, even and often especially if they're presented as fact

for the most part so far that has been having different places worship differently right

BUT

i think i stumbled on something really genius in whispers when i made them worship a bunch of what they call demigods as well as the main six. because i decided to also make some of them into real people whose legends long outlived them, and whose lives got turned into fables and warnings and the like. like hio, the demigod of the sun, was an Actual Guy who was one of the first to translate things of historical importance into Common, exposing a whole shit ton of rewritten history to the wider public of emarye and resulting in him being caught and tortured to death by the rulers of the (at the time) empire. and that translated to a fable kind of like prometheus? of like a guy who tried to bring knowledge from the goddesses down to mortals. and now he is The Light In the Void, Burning Forever in order to Give Us Knowledge. this difference brought to you by 5000 years of cultural development.

anyway. i've been sitting on the idea that the name Amony (which is the name for both a historical and current character, both of whom are dwarves, who are usually named after rocks and gems and metals) is actually a shortened form of the word Antimony for a while

and the historical figure named Amony was the first Starsmith, so she opened the world up to the knowledge of the magical metals that fuel 99% of the world's industry now. and she actually lived at a time when the name would have been Antimony

and so i decided to portray this fact as one of the engineers that Andy is working with talking about "Starbeard herself" and now Antimony Tell is also considered by some to be a minor goddess of Starsmithy, and Nimian smiths often have small shrines to her by their forges made of their best pair of tongs and best hammer, because Antimony worked with second-rate tools to make magic so they should be able to, too.

all this comes about because said coworker who brings up Starbeard is teasing another one about an airship model that went so fast it almost broke the sound barrier. she thinks said coworker was cursed by Amony Tell from the heavens for using the best tools in her workshop

[doomed-era]

For the chapter title thing, I'm curious about Apotheosis! Tbh had never heard of that word before reading that chapter, so thank you for expanding my vocabulary haha

Oh yeah! It's a very fun word, and not commonly used (for good reason; people don't ascend to divinity just every day)

This is the chapter where Link tries to stab Zelda. So, the reason for naming the chapter "Apotheosis" is twofold, based on two common uses of the word. In Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey (haha hero. HAHA), the apotheosis is the peak of the action, where the protagonist comes to a realization that changes everything. Then, of course, there's the standard definition, a person ascending to godhood or being revered as a god. Both uses of the word are ironic, in this chapter's case. The fic isn't following the structure of "the monomyth" at all, though it is where the protagonist makes an important realization, and there is no ascension-- rather, there is the opposite, as Link is forced to see Zelda for the human being that she is, and has his own apparent "godhood" taken from him. It ties into some of his primary flaws: his inability to see anything but "the big picture," his obsession with his own "purpose," and his refusal to see himself as a person.

Okay I am not going to go into a full breakdown of Link's mental state in this chapter I PROMISE but I really do have a lot to say about it and just. the chapter. Mostly about the Ganon battle and the thing right after. So uhh more under the cut. (Mental illness/suicide mention as well)

Still, he could not let it live, for the good of the kingdom and its people. But what good did the kingdom do? He had never seen it, and though its ruins were everywhere, the people he knew were happy without its dominion. They admired the vessel, they adored her, even, but what did she provide them with? ...Above all else, Hylia and her kin wanted control. If the power of the gods could be replicated, then what was a god? The technology was blasphemy: a challenge to an ancient order engraved on their souls, so it was discarded, left to rot...

This is actually one of the few paragraphs where I sort of (?) agree with my own protagonist. Uh...surprise, I guess? There are a few key things to see here, namely that he's noting the negative impact of both Ganon and the Royal Family, the two other members of the "cycle." He fails, of course, to see his own contribution to their destruction. Link may be under Hylia's control, and he is a victim of abuse, but he is still responsible for his own actions (which is a major theme of GBoH!!! victims are rarely perfect people and it doesn't make them less of a victim!! victims can hurt people and become the people who hurt them cycles of violence etc etc etc frothing at the mo)

His head burned. This monster had taken everything away from him. It would never land another blow on anyone he knew, in this life or the next. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for another life. What if he could stop it for good? Link pulled himself up and jammed his sword into the eye on Ganon's shoulder, twice for good measure. The voices shouted orders, praise, goading him towards the finish. They clanged and clanged and clanged, the frantic cacophony blurring together until it became nothing but nonsense. Today this would end. The cosmic gears would crack, then shatter, and finally everything would be at peace.

He's doing the thing again, but he's MUCH more clear about his intentions here. Guy wants to end the cycle. He's aware that Hylia and her vessel will probably put up a fight, but he doesn't care anymore. He's The Hero(tm), and he's going to finally put an end to all this suffering because He's Important and He's the Only One That Can, Probably. But yeah he kind of wants to die. Ish. Link's never really been suicidal, but at this point he's very apathetic about death. It's why he lets himself fall later in the chapter; he just...doesn't care anymore. There's also his thought that if he dies he'll just reincarnate and have to go through this all over again which has prevented him from being too doom and gloom in the past about it.

Link saw the vessel's hand around his wrist. It was shaking. He blinked, and their eyes met, gold on green. He had never seen her face before. Her features were soft, but her nose was slightly pointed– a gentler version of the king's nose, and with the same pride he had in his facial features, stifled though it was. Black ooze stuck to her cheek, and traveled down her right side, where it sagged on the tips of her fingers.

Zelda :^) I wanted to mention she had Rhoam's nose (even though she doesn't in canon, I know) because it adds an extra level of humanization to her in Link's mind. There is a slight layer of me griping at Nintendo for making Zelda too much of a pretty princess damsel after her arc in BOTW and also just trying wayyy too hard to make her cute and conventionally attractive in general but we'll save that rant for another time. you have all of these interestingly designed npcs (yes even girls) but the main characters stick out like plastic surgery'd sore thumbs. god.

After I chose you. I told you that you had a purpose, to encourage you, and you twisted it, because in the end you were nothing but a murderous little wretch. Well, I'll tell you the truth. The spirit of the hero left you long ago. The only reason that sword accepted you was that I willed it to. Touch it again, and you will feel its righteous fury. 

Last Hylia lines as of now YAY!! Anyway this wasn't planned until pretty late in the writing process and I think it's pretty fun. It also mirrors some abusive religious institutions and how they will say you were a faker all along if you leave :)

Okay that's probably enough I know I love to yap!!! But thank you for bearing with me if you read this far lmao I enjoy putting a lot of thought into this kind of thing

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Working with Earth

Welcome to the fourth part of my elemental series! Today we will explore some aspects of working with earth like offerings, devotional activities, common lessons, aspects, and more! With all that said lets get started!

To preface: I am a devotee to water itself, I am a west witch practioner which means I work within the domain of water, the past, divination, and psyche! I also am a general elemental practioner and have experience working with all of the elements and their aspects!

What is working with Earth like?

Per usual: Things can depend on gnosis and the cultural lens we are looking at, however some things are consistent! In general earth is considered a constant force, something you can always tap into because you are always within it, on it, or in the case of astronauts near it. Earth represents consistency, slow but meaningful changes, and perseverance. Earth doesnt have a gender (same with all the elements) so asking during a working relationship can be a great way to bond! In general, Earth is primordial being the very first to be created even if it was just a ball of flames and liquid stone. Earth is considered but also not considered to be the first element to house life! People debate if it was water with the primordial soup or if it was earth giving water a space. However it is clear earth is a major life giver regardless. Earth has many aspects from rot, biomes, to just pure grounding energy, and working results change depending on who you are interacting with.

Some people work with earth as a whole, and we see this with the 'mother nature' archetype! This energy tends to be balanced, loving, and full of trial and error. Another aspect may be with specific biomes like navigating loneliness and introspection with desert, or managing your energy levels with rainforest! In any case, earth has major emphasis on love, grounding forces, but also cycles. All energy you use earth will eventually take back from the living. In this case, earths personality is not set in stone, often times changing and reflecting specific nuances. Another important thing to note is earth has frequently been described as both powerful but also sometimes a push over. We can observe this in mundane life with the invention of GMO's, pollution, etc. Earth allows us humans to do a lot of awful things to earths natural systems (evolution, balancing, etc) however Life will always find a way. It is important to remember you are an animal like any other deer, fish, or bear! Respect the earth as it speaks to you. Earth is a lot more direct because of the heavier role it plays on us. Patience is the best virtue when interacting with earth.

UPG: Earth is an extremely kind spirit to commune with, often happy to speak directly to all of its creatures. Earth usually presents 'slow burn' lessons usually being carried out over seasons, years, or decades. Working with earth is all about taking things one step at a time and learning indirectly not what it means to be human but what it means to be animal. Earth is all about establishing your place within the world, and encouraging you to leave this place better than you found it. Earth represents the present, pausing, and setting up long term goals no matter the weather or struggles we face. Its about unity and learning to love others with the short mark we leave on our home.

A thing to note is earth has a common 'womb' and 'mother' element often being nicknamed mother nature, dirt to life, etc! Most cultures observe earth to be the ultimate womb because of our history. Compared to all the elements earth has the heaviest association to life and birth, just as much as it does death and recycling. This has lead to the darker element of 'rot' being an aspect taking. Rotting and Decay takes time, much like all things.

What are common offerings?

Most people place altars to earth by windows, on the ground floor, and by living rooms! Earth tends to enjoy pretty much all offerings because it not only can represent advancement but also returning to roots. However: There is heavy emphasis on ethical offerings like with crystals, locally sourced items, and growth. So I would hold off leaving a red bull on the altar for now. Earth enjoys going place, so travel altars, smaller altars, or collapsible ones are a great choice! Dont feel limited to one point in your home

In earths case, there is heavy emphasis on longevity! So common offerings usually include dusting and cleaning, taking care of a plant, and things that may require repetition like preparing a meal or drinking water. In my water post I talk about net positive, neutral, and negative offerings and earth is no different. A lot of workings can be done outdoors in forests, prairies, and more. Make sure you are researching what hurts flora and fauna before you go out, for example: Leave the salt at home! Salt can hurt the salinity of the soil and hinder growth.

Some ideas include hosting forest or highway clean ups, going on hikes and nature walks, collecting flowers or just communing with nature, foraging, helping others, and getting crafty!

What are the correspondences?

Crystals - Smokey Quartz, Amazonite, Obsidian, Jasper, Malachite, Aragonite, Super Seven, Moldavite, Unakite, and Septarian Herbs - Dandelion root, Hawthorn, Linden, Oak, Red clover, wood sorrel, Rasberry Leaf, Food plants (nuts, berries, gourds, etc), Pacholi, Ivy, Fern Colors - Green, Brown, Gold Energy Centers - Root, Sacral Zodiacs - Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn Tools - Terracotta pots, Coins, Plants, Plates, Crafts Scents - Musk, Soil, Moss

Resources:

Tip Jar

[buscaminas]

Bipolarism made into a manga (Oshi no Ko) and other illnesses…things that children should not go through.

Because that illness is linked to the manga (I will explain it with facts and theories) and in fact it is hereditary. Ai Hoshino

Ai's mother was not well, probably she is one of the most hated characters in the series, in fact I have the theory that she conceived Ai, a music producer (it's ironic, really), she put glass in her rice, she physically mistreated her by burning her, hitting her or telling her that she was worthless (Ai's mother was a prostitute) and she was bipolar, the situation was so serious that the mother robbed a supermarket to lose custody of Ai and another curiosity is that she collected 500,000 yen insurance and squandered it on parties and revelry with her lovers. Ai knew about that. The worst thing of all is that the reason for his contempt towards his daughter was because his clients considered his daughter prettier than her mother 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 The curious thing is that bipolarity does not mean changing to the opposite emotion, for example hate-love, anger-happiness, it can be any emotion at any time and with different intensity, it is a shame that he never sought help and sought happiness in such superficial things (parallels). Hikaru Kamiki

He is a particular case, his parents abandoned him (I have no idea why and I don't want to know, I don't want to understand those things, they just make me angry🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 I want to break those parents' faces). One thing in common with Ai is that having grown up without any affection he thinks that no one cares about him so he doesn't care what he does. Also a bad experience with women (that shi**** woman who took advantage of him and makes me want to kill) and partly Ai who already wanted to sleep with him very quickly (something very common in victims of physical abuse and their desire to have a family) that's why she invites him to her house. But he really couldn't have that will to tell Ai that he loved her because both were good liars apart Ai didn't want to give him more burdens with his other son although I recognize that that situation felt somewhat forced, but well that's not bad with this manga. Hikaru was the mastermind of all this, he was very clever, he even became a millionaire, but he never loved again. I also find his bipolarity to be very forced, it's more crazy. I know he tried to go against Ruby, but he's not 100% responsible for Ai's death, and what Aqua did is stupid. I just hope that wherever he is, he has found peace.

Aqua and Ruby Aqua and Ruby's situation is summed up in that they saw their mother die, and Gorou Amemiya and Sarina Tendouji didn't have proper paternal or maternal figures in their lives.

Kana, Mem-Cho and Akane Here it's not so much bipolarity, but the pressure of being famous at such a young age and believing that you're only worth something when you're successful is a very cruel capitalist concept. Tell me how much you have or what you've achieved and I'll tell you how much you're worth. Speaking of that, something that is already confirmed is that Ichigo did exploit Ai because they falsified documents to change her age since the age to work in the entertainment world is 18 years old or older. But I will not deny that I did appreciate her as her father, I wish that good concept had been maintained in the manga. I also notice that the fantastic part of the series about reincarnation and the crow goddess Tsukuyomi or something like that is forced because it came out of nowhere that Hikaru and Ai are gods I don't see much sense in it (it's an idea without head or tail) the same as the story and the manga are already disappointing. And I hope the ending is leaked… I must upload it. In the end, may everything be God's will.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Eight

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.4k

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K’uk’ulkan had kissed you deeply one last time, not being able to help himself after staying away from you for so long. You thought you were going to pass out from the heat burning beneath your cheeks at the intensity of his kiss… but no, you were just left in a daze. Then he guided you out of the tent, eager and looking forward to seeing you in the traditional wedding attire of his people. He had only ever seen you in the simple clothes you wore while living in your hut, and dressed in the clothing Namora had prepared for you? He had an almost impossible time taking his eyes off your beautiful form, let alone keeping his hands from wandering. K’uk’ulkan could only imagine what you would look like dressed in the traditional ceremonial garb. Calling for Namora, he spoke a few quick sentences in his native tongue, informing her of what he needed her to do for you. Namora was shocked to say the least, but she was pleased that you were making an effort to end the violence between your people. So with a promise to take good care of you, Namora bowed her head and guided you back the way you both had come.

You didn’t speak Yucatec Maya and didn’t have Griot with you, so you had no idea what had transpired between Namora and K’uk’ulkan. At the very least when you were brought to the room you had woken, you were surrounded by more blue skinned women, and not hardened soldiers. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? More rapid fire illusive words were exchanged, the faces of the women soon glowing with excitement and happiness. You felt more reassured by their reactions and your shoulders relaxed. Then two of the women approached you, taking your hands and tugging you in the direction of another hall. You glanced back at Namora with wide eyes, but she only nodded her head at you.

You trusted Namora, so you would trust these women.

The women had led you to a hot springs that bubbled and gurgled with steam and mist, inviting and making your body ache. You needed a moment to relax. You were going to get one because the women, Zyanya and Tlalli as they had told you, were carefully stripping you out of the dress you wore and motioning for you to step down into the warm water.

You had long since gotten used to bathing naked around other women, it was a common practice at the hot springs in Wakanda… but you couldn’t hold back your nerves this time. Not when you were such an outsider. You felt self conscious of your body, of your skin, of your being. Neither Zyanya nor Tlalli made any inclination at being judgmental over what they saw, busying themselves around you as you submerged yourself into the water. Wrapping your arms around your folded knees, you closed your eyes and took several deep and calming breaths.

You were alone, surrounded by the enemy of Wakanda, whose leader you had just shared a very intimate kiss with, and without a plan. You had also just agreed to a ceremony you knew nothing about.You might as well have sold your soul to the devil… but it if prevented needless death, you would take it. Yet you had thoughts of doubt, you were the ordinary one in the family. The black sheep whom T’Chaka and Ramonda had welcomed with open arms years ago. You didn’t know the first thing about how to make an alliance or be diplomatic, you never had the need to learn despite it being your choice of action. It wasn’t like you were ever going to be an influential figure from the royal family. At least you were smoothing things over with K’uk’ulkan, that was good. You were doing something right.

Hands gently stroked your hair and began to run scoops of water over the strands, soaking them and combing them. You were reminded of the times Ramonda had lovingly washed your hair for you when you were but a child, combing your hair neatly before braiding the strands in one of the many traditional styles of your new home. For a moment, you felt a flicker of homesickness. You had spent so much time trying to get away from your family to lesson your hurt, only to start wanting their company the moment you had the space you desperately craved. Were they even looking for you? Or were you simply assumed to be running from confronting the pain you had been stewing in for an entire year?

Those thoughts made your lip wobble and you harshly pressed them together to stop yourself from being consumed the sadness you had battled for so long. You were stronger than this, you had burned your funeral clothing. It was time to let go. Fingers began combing something that smelled nice, into your hair, lovingly tending to your hair and overall treating you with respect and reverence. Then Tlalli began massaging perfumed oils into your skin and you loosened up, letting her maneuver your limbs and treat every inch of your skin with devotion. You let them. It was probably part of a ritual, such as cleansing your body for the ceremony, or preparing your spirit in one way or another.

By the time your skin was buttery soft and a pearlescent sheen for being massaged and treated so delicately, your hair was fully washed and combed and you were being helped out of the hot springs. A beautiful stitched and embroidered robe was held open and you happily allowed them to cover your naked, damp skin with it, relishing the softness of the material. Led back to the cavern full of women, your jaw went slack.

While you had been bathing, they had been very busy. There was now a space where several women were fussing over white fabric, needles and silver thread in hand. A corner now had a table with several jars and brushes, squabbling women standing in front of it with scrolls of symbols… your eyes then caught a few boxes of jewelry, all a bright and vibrant jade that matched the ones K’uk’ulkan wore. Your hand was taken and you were led over to the jewelry.

You curiously looked around at the beautiful pieces, wondering how you were to wear some of them as they were obviously body piercing pieces. Then a women turned around and brandished a needle. Your eyes went wide and you gulped, panic washing through your body. Apparently you had unconsciously stepped backward, as you backed right into Namora. She gave you a soft smile and gestured for you to sit down. You wanted to whimper but held it back as you reluctantly sat down and nervously eyed the woman with the needle.

Less than a minute later, after one of the women had demonstrated that they could, in fact, pierce your body with little to no pain, you were allowing them to pierce the places they wished. The Talokanil had created a compound that numbed the surrounding flesh almost instantly, enabling for fast and painless piercing. Your ears were the first to be done, an industrial bar, much like Namora’s being placed along with an orbital, several helix and cartilage ones. You were fairly sure most of the argument the ladies ended up embroiled in, were about what jewelry would look best on you. You took comfort in the fact that they cared about placement.

Then they had wanted to pierce your septum. You had to resist screaming when the needle drew close to your face, but again, you felt no pain, and a beautiful vibranium ring had been placed. You had to admit that you liked the look in the mirror. The patterns in the metal reminded you of those you saw in the mayan murals and upon the fabrics around you. Shuri was going to like your new look, that you knew. Your mother? She was going to do a double take and possibly balk at your appearance. That wasn’t to say she would hate them, but she would probably want you to have piercings from Wakanda, not from the people who she was convinced were a threat to both you and her people. But what had you on edge the most, was when they moved to pierce your lip.

You panicked once more and Namora had come over, soothing you and reassuring you in the language you didn’t understand. You hated that you needed to hold her hand as they pierced your lip, adding a lip ring that divided your lower lip in half. When it was done, with no pain which you once again felt silly about, you were left staring into a handheld mirror in wonder. You looked like a completely other woman, with a tribal elegance. You looked different, more mature, regal, elegant in an ancestral way… but you felt that you now looked more like yourself than you ever had.

Someone took your hand, and you were tugged to your feet. Brought over to the women who had been arguing over markings on several scrolls, you were sat down once more, only this time, you were confronted with paint brushes. Your right foot was grabbed and held out, and then you watched with wide eyes as they started painting swirls of crimson on your body. You didn’t understand what the purpose of the symbols were, but you could figure out that they were probably a part of their culture, so you let them paint to their hearts content. Even when they tugged at your robe to get to your upper thighs, back, and stomach. They wouldn’t put so much time and effort into it if it wasn’t important.

You were perfectly fine with the paint, it just itched as it dried on your skin and you had to force yourself not to scratch the flesh where beautiful lines of red had been artistically drawn. Before they moved onto your back, your hair was once again brushed out before being braided back from your face. Once your hair was out of the way, the paintbrushes descended onto your back, and it tickled. You found yourself biting down on your lip, which only made you remember that you had a lip piercing now. Your mother was going to do a double take when she saw you, you were now certain. You also entertained the idea that she wouldn’t take kindly to you going off and doing some ceremony you didn’t know anything about, just for the sake of peace. But at the same time, hadn’t she lost enough family, enough people, already? Someone had to do something.

That happened to be you. 

While you were staring off into space, wondering what your mother would think about what you were about to do, the Talokanil finished up their work and began fussing over the outfit you were to wear. It was a handmaid of course, embroidered with equally white thread to accentuate the red and green adorning your body. When it came time to dress you, you were herded behind a screen and the robe tugged from your body. Your cheeks blazed with fire while you cradled your arms to your painted chest. The moment you saw white fabric you were relieved to be dressed in something.

The white gossamer material was dropped over your head and blue fingers were quickly holding onto your arms while they tied the sleeves and the neckline of the fluttering fabric against your skin. While they were fussing over the ties and plucking at white fabric, you came to a realization: undo the ties resting off your shoulders, and the dress could very easily be pulled from your body… you weren’t going to have to do anything naked… were you? You might draw the line at that.

“Really should have thought this through,” You fretted to yourself. Desperation for peace had convinced you to jump the gun so to speak, but if this worked, you would have no regrets. So you let them fuss over you until they were happy and chittering in Yucatec Mayan. The screen was pushed to the side and you picked at the cuticles of your left hand.

“In reina,”(My queen) You took in a deep breath, realizing that you could no longer stall. You twisted on the ball of your foot to see Namora standing next two others holding a large mirror. Your reflection caught your breath. You recognized yourself, your reflection, but this was the first time you had felt like you were someone. Not necessarily someone important, but someone. You didn’t feel like you were going to fade into the background, forgotten like so many times before. Between your plentiful new piercings, the pure white gossamer of the off the shoulder dress, and the red markings upon your skin, you found yourself staring at your reflection with a faraway expression.

“Ki'ichpanech,”(You are beautiful) One of the women murmured, the others nodded. Your skin prickled from the chill in the air and you finally looked to Namora.

“K’uk’ulkan?” You asked softly, knowing that she would at least know what you were indicating with his name.

“Chukpaxten, In reina,” (Follow me) She responded with a nod. The women who had helped you made the hand gesture you were now associating with a sign of respect. You felt compelled to return the gesture and did so, carefully raising your hands and copying their actions. Bright smiles appeared not heir faces and you turned to follow Namora, grabbing the skirt of your dress so you didn’t trip. As you walked, you saw flashes of red from your legs, bright and vibrant compared to the white skirts you held away from them. You hoped that you didn’t get any of the paint on the dress. It’d look like a bloody mess.

The path that Namora followed led back to the cavern where K’uk’ulkan was working on murals, that you knew… but there was a change of scent in the air. As if someone had burned incense. It tickled your nose and you forced yourself not to sneeze. Upon entering the cavern with the murals, you stopped short, your eyes widening. The space was clouded with the smoke from what had to be incense. There was now what looked like an alter set up with several items placed on a table. Colored flowers were placed at four points, red, yellow, purple, and white.

“Mayor,” (Elder) Namora spoke, bowing to an older looking Talokanil who stood draped in traditional garb.

“What am I getting myself into,” You whispered as the eyes of elder Talokanil gazed upon you. This all looked very… official. Fear crept into your veins.  Of course it did. This was a serious alliance you were negotiating/commencing, you had to respect their traditions. If you screwed this up, you felt like you were dooming your nation to certain war.

Date Published: 4/23/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

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