#and adding pyro would take out about half.

[transgender-scout]

my holiday bonus kicked in today for work and im torn between saving that money to go towards stuff for the house, or finding somewhere to buy the ugly scout plushie

[theriddlettesblog]

Home Runner, a Team Fortress 2 fanfiction

Chapter 1

Scout sits in the Teufort base’s resupply room, on one of the benches, thinking to himself about the choices he’s made that led up to where he is now.

“Hey, Scout,” Engie begins, walking up to the resting Jeremy who is now looking up at the genius and no longer at his shoes. “Yer soda’s in the fridge if ya need any.” He says gesturing over to the minifridge.

A week prior, Dell had noticed that Scout was out of Bonk again and added it to the shopping list. Demo picked up a case of the carbonated punch, albeit small, when he went to the store. The Scottsman only bought six cans of the soft drink because he wanted to use the majority of his strength and paycheck to bring back the most alcohol he could. The rest of his purchase consisted of three crates of beer for him and Dell to share, three bottles of whiskey for himself, and one bottle of vodka for Heavy which the Russian man drinks much to Medic’s protest with the giant’s health in mind. If Tavish had more arms, he would have gotten more booze, not pop.

“Thanks, Engie.” Scout replies to the builder.

“No problem. Round’s ‘bout to start, so git caffeinated and ready to cap the intel.” The mechanist tells Jeremy, grabbing his wrench and shotgun then leaving the safety of the base.

Jeremy breathes a big sigh then proceeds to gear up, grabbing his favorite hat-headphones combo, scattergun, and swiftly downs one of the half-a-dozen cans of Bonk in the fridge before walking out of the room. Stepping out of the resupply, he straightens the collar of his polo and adjusts his untinted Value of Teamwork prescription Graybanns. The man goes on to cock his scattergun, ejecting an empty shell out of the chamber all while closely observing its descent to the floor. Through his specs, Scout’s gaze is locked on the shell resting on the ground.

“Empty.” The young man says to himself, still staring. A loud gunshot followed by an explosion breaks him out of his trance and he walks onto the ledge Mick often uses as a sniper’s nest. As one would guess, the New Zealand native is indeed there, scoped in and carefully searching for a head to liquidate.

“Joinin’ the fight now, Scout? ‘Bout time, we need a fast recovery, heh heh.” Sniper says, taking a moment to unscope to ask and chuckle at his own jab.

“You got it, Mick.” Scout responds, unenthusiastically and without looking at the other assassin. The runner jumps down off the ledge, trying his best to keep his balance after landing. Before he gets a chance to look up at the other side of Teufort, his Bottle Cap’s headset starts buzzing.

“Scout?” Pauling asks, gaining the speedster’s attention, “Before you say anything, or if you are saying anything, stop, I’ve got a contract for you.”

“Sure.” Jeremy answers, without any shock from the fact that this is the first time Miss Pauling has said anything to him in months.

A moment of silence goes by before Pauling breaks it. “Are you not going to say anything else?” the woman asks, confused that Scout is not shamelessly embarrassing himself nor reciting a used pick up line that won’t work on her, or anyone, for that matter.

“No?” Jeremy asks back, not understanding her confusion with his lack of idiocy.

“Oh, okay, uh, I just need you to kill a few Pyros and you’ll get a new weapon skin, well, new to you, not actually new, Minimal Wear at best.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Scout quickly replies before hanging up without another word between them. He sighs again and jumps into the water between the two bases, heading into the BLU team’s sewers.

As he makes his way through the water, he begins thinking to himself again, about something that’s been tugging at the back of his mind for the past few weeks. For those past few weeks, Scout hasn’t been able to shake an odd feeling, a feeling that was unusual and unfamiliar to him. It was a feeling that bogged down his cockiness and made him more tame as well as fade into the background. It prevented him from being the loud showy kid from Boston, but rather, made him quiet which everyone on his team noticed, but no one batted any eyes toward. Not even Jeremy himself noticed he was acting a little out of the ordinary, he just went about flanking every Soldier and Heavy that was unfortunate enough to not notice the skinny guy with the shotgun coming up behind them.

Why he’s been feeling this way for this long was unknown to him, usually, it takes three cans of the atomic punch to lift his spirits and he’s right back to being the most annoying shotgunner on the field. But for some reason, no matter how much pop he chugs, he can’t get out of this fog. Jeremy almost has half a mind to ask Medic about his atypical string of emotions, but he rationalizes the thought by realizing that the mad Doktor will either write it off as nothing or perform some kind of procedure that wouldn’t change anything except his number of exotic hamster kidneys. Scout is brought back to reality when he hears the Administrator exclaim that his team’s intelligence has been taken.

“Scout!” Engie calls out to Jeremy on his headset. “A Spy’s taken the intel! He’s goin’ through the sewers! Meet ‘im halfway and blast ‘im to hell!”

“On it.” Scout replies, once again, unenthused while rolling his eyes. He heads out the few feet he made it into the BLU base and swims across to the sewers of his own. He stands guard at the entrance out of the sewer system, waiting for someone, RED or BLU to enter his sight. Several moments pass by with absolutely nothing coming into his view.

“Crap, he’s probably invisible.” Scout says to himself, trying to listen for sloshes in the water. Several more moments pass by without a single break in the silence.

Scout gets tired of waiting so he presses the button on his headset, “Engie? Did that Spy leave the base?”

“Not with the intel, he dropped it and vanished. But we got theirs.” As soon as the Texan finishes that proud statement, The Administrator’s voice comes over the intercom and congratulates the REDs for capturing BLU’s intel.

“Come on back,” Dell begins again, “we got three cases ‘a beer so one fer everyone who’s not an alcoholic bomb maker.”

“Sweet.” Scout breathes out without cracking a smile, keeping the same face as when he first called. Before moving his feet, Jeremy lets his arms fall to his sides and then slowly makes his way into the main part of his team’s base.

When Scout re-enters the resupply room, he sees all of his teammates celebrating with beers in hand, save for Tavish, he has three in each. Before anyone could realize Jeremy was there, he grabs the tiny case of soda out of the fridge and heads home for the night.

Home, for Scout, is a small rundown apartment complex just outside of downtown Teufort which he would be more than overjoyed to move out of and find a nicer place, but seeing how the Administrator docs and suspends his pay for mouthing off to her, what he does make barely covers the costs of his ammunition. The building is curated by an elderly blind man named Talor who rocks a tricked out wheelchair, is shockingly modest, but most importantly, is kind to Scout. Jeremy is Talor’s only tenant but he keeps the power and water running for him as the speedster has nowhere else to go. Scout makes a silent entrance into his room, trying his best to not let anyone know he returned home; though Talor is very warmhearted, Scout doesn’t need anything to further complicate his day.

The light-footed sprinter tosses his cap and glasses onto his dinner (coffee) table before finishing off the last five cans of Bonk he took from work. He throws off his shoes, pants, and shirt and nearly collapses into the pullout couch he uses as a bed. After three hours of dreamless sleep, buzzing comes from his resting headset. This awakens Scout and in a half-asleep daze, gets up and brings the single headphone to his ear after laying back down on the throw pillow he uses as a regular one.

“Yeah?” Scout asks, mildly annoyed, but too tired to care, that someone is calling him in the dead of night.

“Scout? It’s Pauling.” the purple-shirted secretary answers the speedster.

“Miss Pauling? Look, it’s late, I gotta be up at six tomorrow, I don’t got time for another contract.” Scout tells her with only one eye open, locked on one of his many mold-ridden walls.

“No. Scout, this isn’t about a contract, though, you didn’t complete my last one so either way it wouldn’t be. Uh, anyway, I was just calling to ask why you left work early. You usually never pass up an opportunity to show off your weird dance moves.” Pauling inquires, trying to piece together the answer to this mystery.

“I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.” Scout answers, scratching his head which is still laying on his pillow.

“Engie says you haven’t been feeling it at all.” Jeremy’s half-shut gaze squints even further. The young woman continues, “I’m just a little concerned is all. I know we haven’t been talking a lot lately, and people’s lives tend to move on whether or not they keep in touch.” Pauling says, trying not to let her voice crack under the weight of her words. Jeremy sits up in his cot, looking down at his half-blanketed body.

Without anything else to say, he simply replies, “I’m still doin’ okay. Thanks for the call, Miss Pauling, goodnight.” and with that, Jeremy hangs up, allowing the mountain of guilt resting on his back to force a breath out of his lungs. He then slips back into sleep.

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

Next

Masterlist

[spiderpider]

can you hit us w some hcs for what the mercs do in their spare time maybe? :0

YES!!!! I'll put it under the cut because I'm gonna get elaborate

What Mercs do in their spare times!

Scout - Scout is really the only member of the team that isn't satisfied doing the same thing over and over again. He gets antsy fast- he's the first to suggest dumb excursions and the first to accept them. He loves visiting new places to scope out the best bars, and of course to set the world record in getting kicked out for flirting with the bartenders. Batting cages and running tracks are also high on his priority list! When he feels like spending a day at home, he'll pour over comic books, and maybe vandalize the base with scribbles and graffiti.

Soldier - Taking inspiration from his career as a tour guide, I think Soldier really likes visiting museums. Of course, he's an absolute nightmare to bring anywhere. He's enthusiastic, but Jane will explain just about anything, anywhere, ad nauseam. Go to a history museum? Soldier's gonna tell you how the was actually weaponizing raccoons and weapons made out of garbage. When he isn't terrorizing Teufort, he's probably at the base bossing everyone else around.

Pyro - Honestly probably setting forest fires. And stealing shit from campsites right before they set said fires. Teufort officials have yet to explain the rise of arson/robberies in the woodlands, but they're close. The current theory is a picnic-basket loving bear that just happens to have a penchant for arson. When they're not terrorizing campers, Pyro loves sewing! They make their own plushies, and they're getting pretty good at it!

Demoman - Weirdly enough, Demo loves going to the beach / desert to look for treasure. You can usually find him with a dingy old metal detector. It started off as a secret santa gift that blossomed into a genuine hobby! When he's at the base, he loves watching soaps on TV. Doesn't matter if it's the middle of a season, or something he's never seen before. He'll get really invested really quick. He's kind of a hopeless romantic. You'll usually see Demo, Medic and Spy surrounding the TV yelling at it.

Heavy - I think Heavy really does enjoy reading! That PHD in literature isn't just for show, he probably journals his thoughts and essays on the stuff he's read, too. Weather permitting, he'd like to sit outside and maybe even garden? Something calming and most importantly: quiet. His favorite things to garden are definitely hearty leafy-plants, and vegetables. He likes flowers, but they mess with his allergies. There's something extremely relaxing about being able to tend to-and protect- little baby-plants from the elements.

Engineer - Surprisingly enough, he likes fishing! On his days off he'll go down to the nearest lake, plop on the edge of the dock and fish for a few hours. He also loves solving puzzles, he routinely finishes the crossword before anyone even gets a chance to look at the daily paper. He's also the go-to repair man around the base (though he doesn't consider this much of a hobby, he has to admit that nothing feels better than solving problem, even if it is a leaky pipe.) He's dabbled in woodworking, too. Definitely has built a chair just for the heck of it.

Medic - The scientific pursuit of knowledge drives him- but you can't do science 24/7, even Medic would be burned out within a few years! He's definitely a workaholic, but when he's forced to have spare time, he really likes practicing the violin. He's one of those people that can pick up a hobby and won't set it down until he masters it (or, gets frustrated that he can't pick it up immediately and abandons it after about a week of work. There's a ton of half-knitted scarves shoved into drawers.) Taking care of his birds isn't exactly a hobby, but he does give them extra care and love when he has more spare time.

Sniper - Definitely going on hikes, hunting game and going on "vision quests". The dude is weird. He likes solitary activities, and rarely "hangs out" with anyone else. Really, really has a knack for taxidermy. He's one of those guys that doesn't try to go campy or kitschy with it though, thinks the little taxidermy squirrels in top hats are for serial killers and psychos. He sticks to trying to make them as realistic as possible, thinks it's way more respectful that way. He's spent more than a few weekends testing his wilderness survival abilities, too.

Spy - Honestly, it depends on his mood. He's definitely spent sour afternoons just smoking, drinking and reading his Dapper Cadaver magazines for hours on end. When he's not pouting, Spy is traveling. Anything to get out of a town made of 90% gravel. He likes visiting art museums, wine tasting, anything that he can brag about to the other Mercs. Secretly, though, he loves going to see B movies in theaters (obviously disguised). Cheap thrills are a guilty pleasure that he is incredibly embarrassed about.

[coffee-writesthings]

I wrote an essay for my English class about a tf2 x the crucible crossover. I copy+pasted it below the cut while I pray my teacher doesn't have a Tumblr.

So welcome to how I think soldier Tf2 would change the crucible

Team Fortress 2 (TF2) is a first person shooter with a small plethora of external content in the form of comics and videos made in the world’s worst animation software. It tells an incredibly wacky (unfinished) story with 9 lovable mercenaries, where canonically, rocket jumping was something created before stairs. The Crucible (TC), on the other hand, is a very serious allegory about McCarthyism, set during the witch trials. Its characters are mostly forgettable, save for the major ones (John Proctor, Abigail Williams, Mary Warren, and a couple of the judges). I thought that it would be very interesting to drop one of the nine mercenaries into the story of TC, and vice-versa for one of TC’s Characters.

I believe that the most interesting character to put into TC is the Soldier, also known as Jane Doe. Within TF2’s comics, we’re shown that he befriends an enemy (RED team’s Demoman), cares a lot about his teammates on the condition that they’re American (half of the team is from Europe) and he takes people’s words at face value. He’s also very intense as a person, and rather paranoid. I think that whenever he was introduced to the conflict (say, at one of the first hangings) he would be very confused, and nearly hanged himself. TF2 being TF2 though, he has a very strong neck and would be fine. I think he would find himself confused about the concept of witchcraft, because he’s met a wizard (the great Merasmus, canonically indebted to every mafia by the way) and they can do actual spells, with pretty visual effects. Pretty much immediately he would team up with the “witches” and he would disprove time and time again (without hurting anyone too badly) that they literally can’t be witches. I could see him staging a revolt against the church, and then being taken home after everything turned out okay. And then, if anybody saw the portal, the whole thing would begin again ad infinitum (a major theme within TF2, if a leaked description of the unfinished final comic on 4chan is to be believed, is that the cycle of violence is very continual)

Now, as for being dropped into TF2, I think Mary Warren would have a great time. Her ability to be deceptive when the need comes makes me think she’d be great as an understudy of sorts for Spy (like when she read the room out at that lake, and burst Abigail’s bubble about Mary being in a bird form). On top of that, the Sniper, Engineer, Heavy, and Demoman are probably the most normal of the mercs. I would bet that those characters would try to keep Mary away from characters like the Pyro, Medic, and, well Soldier doesn’t matter if these happen at the same time. I do think that Mary could be very good in the battles, but would not be allowed to go much further than the Engineer’s sentries. I think at the end, when she goes home, she would be forever changed and then she would be the new person to believe that witchcraft is real, repeating the cycle but slightly different.

[hankwritten]

A Tavern Named Keep [3/6]

Demoman-centric Modern AU

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

In a small uni-town in New Mexico, DeGroot Keep serves liquor and succor to an eclectic yet loyal group of patrons, and has for many years. The Keep owes its success to its equally colorful owner, who always seems to know what you need—whether that be a stiff beer or a word of advice. But, between setting up his patrons or sifting through his friends’ problems, will Tavish remember to take care of himself?

Above the façade front door of DeGroot Keep is an unreachable third floor, its purpose assumed by those who walk the streets below to be some sort of attic or perhaps storage space, if they wonder about it at all. What Tavish conceals above the stairs in the back of the kitchen is actually, in fact, his apartment, boasting one room and a claustrophobic little bathroom added sometime during the 20th century. It’s space enough for him: there’s a desk computer, a bed, a half-sized bookshelf crammed with fantasy paperbacks, and a tinkering table whose purposes are better left undisclosed. (Privacy is not the only reason the kitchen stairs are hidden. Such is the lot of men with less than legal hobbies.)

If you were to ask if he wants for anything, he might complain that he isn’t able to move the coffee maker upstairs, but requests for further elaboration would be met with a dispassionate shrug. The kitchen isn’t so far, and what he lacks in elbow room he makes up for in convenience; everything he needs in the morning is only an arm’s length away. The way Tavish usually starts his day is by getting his shower in, shaving, and dressing all within the span of a half-hour, barely moving outside a few cubic meters.

The way Tavish does not usually start his day is with the unhallowed ringing of the landline he uses to make international calls to his mother every Saturday. The digital clock reads 6:46 in the watery light from the circular attic window, but it could be the witching hour for all Tavish wants to get out of bed. But out of bed is the only place he can silence the infernal thing, so up he gets.

“Hello,” he grumbles his barely contained contempt into the receiver, rubbing rheum from his eye.

On the other side, there is heavy breathing.

A sterner man would have assumed he was being punked. A less stern man would have gone and grabbed the rosary from his dresser drawer and warned that he feared no evil spirits and he was well trained in the art of dispelling the profane. However, Tavish merely lapses, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but his boxers, listening as the heavy breathing is intercut by the occasional apologetic mumble and several egregiously incomprehensible attempts at explanation.

The cold floor is biting him through his socks. He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me the station number, I’ll be there in a few.”

There is a grateful keening noise, and the morning is sacrificed to a long and troubled drive that does not help the barkeep’s ever-present hangover. He’s been told once or twice that a businessman shouldn’t sample his own wares, but in all fairness he’s been an alcoholic a lot longer than he’s been a bar owner. On the ride back to the Keep, he hushes Pyro several times, assuring them he’s not mad and can we just save the explanations for when we’re back home, aye?

However, as soon as they reach the tavern Pyro chooses that moment to clam up entirely.

“Oh come on now duck,” Tavish tries to coax. “We’re already bleeding Mayor Piggycorn dry here, the least you can do is tell me what went wrong.”

Mayor Piggycorn—originally named for the construction paper horn taped to his head, and then renamed by the sticky note saying ‘Pyro Bail Fund’—still has a few quarters jingling around in his belly, but only just. Tavish slips the bank back onto the shelf.

“I’ll tell you what went wrong!” Jane, present when they’d arrived despite the fact that both people with the authority to open the bar had been gone all morning, says as Pyro futzes with their hands. “Your cook lights things on fire when they’re in a bad mood, and they also light things on fire when they're in a very good mood.”

Accuracy notwithstanding, this is clearly not the time, and Tavish shoots Jane a withering glare. To Pyro he asks, “can you at least tell me what sort of property you damaged?”

They mumble something. It sounds like ‘dumpster’.

“Ah well that’s not so bad.”

Silence hangs for a few seconds. Jane is right though, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out this isn’t a good mood sort of burning.

“Pyro,” he says firmly. “What’s eating you.”

As though the words can’t contain themselves anymore, it all bubbles out, hand waving and muffled cursing like this morning’s phone conversation. They quickly grow frustrated with the inadequacy of this mode of communication, and switch to sign language.

“<It’s Scout! He’s been avoiding me and I don’t know what I did wrong!>”

Tavish sighs. It’s a sighing sort of day apparently. He should have known Jeremy would be the source of more Pyro troubles.

“<He’s just stopped…hanging out with me. Whenever I go home and he’s there he pretends he doesn’t see me unless I say hi first. And then he’ll say hi but he’ll just go back to playing whatever and he never invites me to join anymore and I feel really awkward asking for a ride so I’ve just been walking everywhere.>”

They take a moment, shoving their hands in their armpits as they try to calm down. Tavish walks over to put an arm around their shoulders, glaring at Jane until he looks properly abashed.

When they’re breathing steadier they try again. “<Last night I asked him if he was mad at me. If I had said something to make him angry, and he got really defensive and said nothing’s wrong. When I said all that stuff I just said to you, he did get mad, and said that he needed to…Think about things? And then! He just left! He went out and didn’t come back to the apartment last night and I was pissed at him for lying to me but also scared that he’d never come home and so I went to the Lecture Valley Dolphin Shack and set their dumpster on fire.>”

Tavish shares a look with the outside of Jane’s hat. “Ach, well…it wasn’t right of him to lie, but sometimes we tell our loved ones nothing’s wrong when we don’t want them to worry.”

“<That’s stupid.>”

“Aye, but Scout’s a stupid kid.”

Pyro looks at the ground. “<He’s my stupid kid. I just want things to be normal between us and not weird and awkward.>”

That phrasing clicks something into place in Tavish’s mind.

“<I don’t want to go to class today,>” Pyro admits after a while.

“That’s fair. Why don’t you go sleep it off in the back room, alright? I’ll bring you something in a bit.”

Pyro collides with his stomach, wrapping him in one of their famous hugs with a muffled thanks Tavish to his chest.

“Ah, no need for that. Off you go.”

Pyro does, and Tavish sets about making the forcibly delayed breakfast, though now for three. He may not have his chef’s talent, but there are plenty of things a bachelor can make that can’t be screwed up too badly.

“…You come away from that thinking the same thing I did?” he asks, cracking six eggs into a well-oiled pan.

“Unless it is a composition of the national anthem as sung by the Western Meadowlark, I find that unlikely.”

Jane, who’s followed him into the kitchen, leans against the countertop. The place is neater than Tavish left it last night, the man to blame playing with the raccoon-shaped salt & pepper shakers as he waits for the eggs to cook. Every once in a while he breaks into the Keep—the untidiness of Tavish’s ‘fortifications’ apparently driving him crazy—and attacks the place in a frenzy until it can pass muster. It was disconcerting at first, but after a few times of finding the back of the bar perforcedly reorganized, Tavish figured that it was worth the small security flaw. Plus, Jane always hangs around after. Tavish pities any real burglar that tries to storm the place.

“I mean Scout and Pyro,” Tavish says, pushing down the toaster. “You remember how Scout went with them to that club the other week?”

“My memory is that of a hippopotamus, but I do not see the relevance.”

“Just thinking.” Tavish idly chews the inside of his cheek, a habit his dentist has railed against on more than one occasion. Tavish’s reply is always that moriscatio buccarum is probably on the kinder end of things he does to his body. “Scout went on a lark it seems. I can’t imagine what would drive a wedge between the two of them, you know how they’re like together.”

“Hooligans, bordering on hippie-dom.”

“I mean they’re affectionate,” Tavish says. “Do you ever get the feeling…maybe there’s something more there?”

Jane shrugs. “Possible, I guess.”

“And he said he needed to go think about something,” Tavish muses. Now that he’s on this train of thought it’s hard to stop. “Ah, poor kid. Must be rough thinking you’re straight this long and then suddenly discovering you’re in love with your best friend.”

Soldier grumbles something that Tavish misses. Before he can ask him to repeat it, the toaster pops, and Tavish runs over to arrange the finishing touches. When he slides the platter in front of Jane, the ranger immediately attacks it with the salt.

“What?” Tavish balks, the highest offense in his pitch. “You’re nae even going to try it first?”

The accusation is met only with a grin. Jane lifts the peppershaker (a black raccoon with white stripes, to differentiate it from the saltshaker’s white raccoon with black stripes) and proceeds to upend it over the eggs as well.

Tavish huffs, then turns to where he knows he’ll have at least one connoisseur with taste.

“Feeling better, duck?” he asks, sliding a plate and a glass of orange juice on the back room’s lone folding table.

They mumble something through blankets and gasmask. Nothing will get better with Jeremy gone, it seems.

“Don’t worry mate. I know just what’s got to be done.” With that, he leaves so that Pyro can eat in privacy.

Jane narrows his eyes as soon as steps foot in the kitchen. “What’s got to be done? You better not be up to what I think you’re up to! That crap with Mikhail and Ludwig was supposed to be a one time thing.”

“Ah…overheard that did you.” Tavish resists the urge to rub the back of his neck: he’s got nothing to be ashamed about, this is a good idea. “Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? They love each other to bits, maybe they just need a nudge in the right direction.”

Jane still looks unconvinced.

“At the very least you got to admit this time is important!” Tavish says in exasperation. “Pyro’s heartbroken, Scout’s gone rogue, and I’m not resting until I get them to make up.”

“…”

“Nothing you say can convince me otherwise!”

Soldier dips his toast in yolk.

Tavish makes a noise of disgust, and leaves to get his tavern ready for another night of romance.

The first, and most important, preparation is to get Jeremy to show up. He shoots the boy a text, aiming for the weakness that he knows all college students in general—but athletes in particular—share: the promise of free food. There is technically an event happening at DeGroot Keep tonight, and Jeremy can have the leftovers if he comes. None of it a lie, per say, but Tavish fails to mention that the event in question is a date between him and his roommate.

“This looks familiar,” Dr. Ludwig says as he sits at the bar and marvels at the candles. “You’re not setting up another pair of your patrons, are you?”

His chuckle dies on his lips as Tavish quickly passes him his beer and says nothing.

“You are? Mein Gott. You never let up, do you DeGroot?”

“Oi, it worked out for you, didn’t it?” Tavish says. In a careful change of the subject before Ludwig can ask which patrons, he adds, “where is Mikhail, anyway? You two are going somewhere tonight, right?”

“Indeed we are.” Ludwig puffs up. “We’re heading to see the opera in Las Vegas.”

“…Las Vegas?” Tavish raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, you caught me. Las Vegas, New Mexico.”

“I take it the opera was Mikhail’s idea?”

The offense on Ludwig’s face is clear. “I happen to quite enjoy opera music. We planned this together.”

“Didn’t mean anything by it, Doc.” Tavish holds up his hands. “It just seems like neither of you would have the, er, temperament for it.”

“Then perhaps you know less about us than you think.” Outside, a pair of headlights flash. “Ah, that’s him. Auf Wiedersehen DeGroot, good luck with… whatever the hell this is.”

Shaking his head, Tavish is just about to scoop up the doctor’s empty beer when Pyro tugs on his shirtsleeve.

They look despondent, their mask-lenses are one step away from drooping like a cartoon character. A finger points at the kitchen, then at the side door, the universal expression of, “I’m heading out now.”

Tavish glances at the (limited edition, Birds of the Southern United States) clock and sees that it really is getting late. But Jeremy still hasn’t shown, and Tavish rushes to stall.

“…Actually, I was hoping you could run the lower bar for a bit? Just to take some of the pressure.”

Somehow, Pyro’s shoulder’s drop further, and Tavish fends off a wave of guilt. But, loyal soul that they are, they plod down to the street-level.

Only needed on truly busy nights, the inventory of the lower bar is locked up tight since it can’t be watched from all angles. Usually Broderick, (Tavish’s authentic DeGroot heirloom suit of armor) mans the area, which means Pyro has to shove him aside in order to unlock the liquor cabinets. They do all this with the grace of the mortally condemned.

This isn’t going well. Tavish checks his phone to see that Jeremy never even responded, not even one of his indecipherable emojis. Before long he’s become glued to his screen, checking it every thirty seconds as the hour hand slowly moves towards the Belted Kingfisher, and one by one the late stayers trickle out. Tavish has never had a problem with barflies, (it’s not the most lively part of town), but for once he very much wishes he’d have some sorry slob that he can’t unstick from the bar with a spatula, if only for the excuse.

But enough time ticks by that Pyro approaches him again, and the bar’s now empty enough that he can’t deny them their request. They slink out the door, and a blue pick-up truck rolls to collect them.

There has to be some way to fix this. After closing the tavern he retreats to his quarters, desktop illuminating his face as he fails to turn on any other light in his bedroom. He hunts for Jeremy’s Facebook, though right away he can tell it won’t bring him any luck. The last post was months ago, a captionless picture of he and Pyro with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. They look happy.

He sends a you alright lad? text. Though, when he sees the timestamp reading 3:01 AM, he realizes that’s an auspicious statement. He lies in his bed and fails to go to sleep.

Whatever time the knocking starts is far too early. Having only gotten a total seven hours of sleep the past two days, he’d been planning to open the Keep late to recuperate, but another repetitive auditory signifier of modern home living has thrown that out the window. Speaking of windows. Tavish’s mood is not improved when he looks out the porthole and sees that the knocking is coming from a lone police officer at his stoop.

“Christ, what did they do now,” he murmurs.

Hair of the dog, he reminds himself. Hair of the dog. He pulls out a spare scrumpy bottle from underneath the bed.

“Not even at the right door, there’s a bloody sign- canae help you, officer?” Tavish yells out the true entrance. He’s still in his raccoon slippers (he’s known Jane for many Smismasses now), and he has no interest in going outside. If the idjit wants to ignore perfectly readable advisories, that’s his business.

The officer sticks his head around from the front. “Excuse me. Are you the owner here?”

Owner? Probably wouldn’t be asking if Pyro had gotten themself in trouble again. Keeping his general distaste for coppers out of his voice is easiest done with one word answers, so he says, “aye.”

“We’ve received complaints about an improperly parked vehicle on your premises. It appears someone is illegally habitating within it.”

Tavish feels habitating probably isn’t a word, but he’s already getting worked up. “Complaints? Is it that Classic Rock ‘n Roll bar down the street? Bloody goat-humpers. Those Classics have always had it out for me and my lads.”

Whether it’s the fact that Tavish burps halfway through his tirade or the volume of the denouncement, the officer looks quite pained. “We’ve had complaints from a variety of sources, sir.”

Tavish grumbles something about pain trains in station town, before the cop’s opening line finally catches up with him. “Someone’s living in a car in my parking lot?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What in blazes-”

Slippers or no, Tavish charges into his rarely used back lot, usually traversed only by delivery trucks and the odd trash collector.

In it, is a camper van.

“Oi, open up!” He slams on the camper’s door. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but if you’re going to squat at my house-” With the creaking of someone swaying the suspension with each footstep, the door opens. “-Then you- Mick?”

Mick Mundy does an adequate impression of Tavish a few minutes ago, and blinks groggily. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing in that thing?”

Mick looks behind him briefly. “Livin’ in it.”

“In my yard?”

The cop cuts in, “Sir you can’t take up residency, regardless of the nature of the vehicle, on businesses lining Main Street or Teufort’s six main thoroughfares."

“Really?” Mick asks. Tavish facepalms.

“ ‘Fraid so,” he continues, surprisingly straight-faced. “With the exclusion of national and state parks, parking an RV for more than 48 hours is similarly not allowed.”

“Hm,” Mick nods. “Guess I’ll go to one of those then. Is a camper van after all.”

Tavish facepalms with the other hand.

He can’t even bring himself to chew Mick out before he packs up his van and leaves. The incident with the traffic cop was hardly a good start to his morning, and it doesn’t improve with the opening of the Keep’s doors. He goes for the harder, close-to-paint-thinner stuff he keeps in the custodial closet just to stave off the mounting stress of dealing with law enforcement. Jeremy has texted him at some point in the night, a noncommittal assurance he’s fine. Tavish again asks if he wants to swing by the Keep tonight, to which he gets a yeah sure, whatever.

There’s little time to plan. Tavish has to make sure things go right this time, has to make sure Pyro stays long enough, has to get Jeremy to stay long enough, has to also find a way to get Jeremy to admit his feelings. Which, easier said than done. It depends entirely on whether he’s come to terms with things or not, and if he’s just shutting down and shutting everyone out it might not even be possible.

Too many variables. All these unknowns are killing him.

Jeremy didn’t say when he’d swing by and Tavish has finished off his good stuff. The candles are back, and Pyro’s mopily tending the kitchen, but-

Fuck. Someone’s vomited on the bathroom floor. He doesn’t have the heart to ask Pyro to do it, even with the wonderfully convenient rubber suit, not when he made them stay late yesterday for basically no reason. So instead he has Pyro take his place at the main bar and goes to face the music.

It smells awful. The bathroom’s décor is one of his prouder works; it’s all vintage advertisements, wallpapering not only the walls but the low, sloping ceiling as well. Normally it’s a pleasant little place to have a pit stop, but right now it’s just-

Eugh. Words don’t do it justice. It’s-

Guh-

Very difficult to breathe in. His head is starting to feel light and the mop keeps slipping out of his hands as the booze rises to his cheeks-

Tavish wakes up.

He is in his bed and the blinds are drawn and it seems like it could be anywhere in that ephemeral hour between the end of sunset and the beginning of sunrise. He can, after all, see and he can most certainly feel, and what he feels is pain.

“Ach, me head…”

The voice that says these words is coming from his head, the central locus for all his pain. It was a mistake to say them, for any reaffirmation of the self is overshadowed by the revelation that his throat is also worthy of commentary.

“Here.”

Jane is handing him a glass of water. The time to question is not now, because Tavish has never seen anything more beautiful than the glass he flimsily takes out of Jane’s hand. The cool rush of water does a little to ease the pain. His mind can wander now, to realize that he’s wearing the same pair of pants but a different shirt, and the only reason he can assume is that he threw up on himself. That or he landed in the other drunkard’s sick. He doesn’t want to think about the latter.

“I’m guessing that was a real bender I had just now?” he dares to ask once the water is gone.

“If by ‘just now’ you mean ‘last night’.” Jane’s mouth is a thin line, and Tavish groans. In an attempt to reassure, Jane adds, “we cleaned and closed the tavern up. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Nothing but the loss of income from a night’s work, but even Tavish knows that’s too bitter to fling at the man who helped his sorry arse through a binge, especially when any outgoes are his own damn fault.

Memory does come crashing back to him though. “Damn it, urch, did- did Scout come in last night?”

“For a little.” Jane’s frown only deepens with this line of questioning. “He left with all the hubbub going on.”

“Damn it all,” Tavish groans. “I’m still trying to fix things with him and Pyro. If I can just get them in a room together-”

The feeble attempt to sit up is cut short, Jane moving the short distance to the bed and pushing until he falls back down. The firmness in his voice is unmistakable when he says, “this is not a nudge.”

“I…” But that’s all Tavsih can muster. He averts his gaze guiltily.

They’re still like that for a moment, frozen in the orange-tinted light that now more obviously asserts itself as dawn, Jane with one knee on the bed and Tavish knowing that he’s right.

“I just want everyone to be okay,” he admits finally. “That’s not so wrong, is it?”

Jane retracts his hand, but now won’t look at Tavish either. “I know you do. Dammit, it’s impossible not to know that you want to make everyone around you happy, with your smiles and your jokes and doing everything in your fucking power to light up the whole damn world. I know you want to solve all their fucking problems. But you need to remember to take care of yourself too.”

Tavish hesitates. He takes care of himself plenty, doesn’t he? At least as well as he always has; it’s not like this particular scenario of drinking himself to unconsciousness while on duty is all that unusual.

He doesn’t want to entertain that that’s exactly what Jane means.

“I will,” he says because it’s the path of least resistance. “But you can’t tell me this whole situation isn’t an issue.”

Jane growls, but acquiesces, “…I don’t like seeing Campfire all put out. It’s a bad look on them.”

“So I need to find out what’s up with Scout. If only to get my cook back from blues town,” Tavish reasons.

“Then why don’t you just talk to him,” Jane says, throwing up his hand. “Don’t bring Pyro into it at all! Damn it Tav you’re good at talking to people, it’s what you do all damn day. Just ask him what’s wrong.”

Again, Tavish hesitates. “Do you really think it’s that simple?”

Jane shrugs. “Could be. If anyone can make it simple it’s you. Not as evidenced by your actions today, private.”

Oh hell, now out come the privates. That’s Jane’s equivalent of a mum using your middle name when you’ve gone and done something dumb.

“Alright, I’ll try it.” He tries to sit, and is pushed back again.

“Not now,” Jane tells him. “Now you are going to catch up on sleep, and open the bar late. Am I understood?”

Tavish grumbles, but there’s no arguing with him. “Understood.”

He does feel monumentally better the next time he wakes up, though it’s nearing noon by the bedside clock. Jane’s gone, but he has several messages from Pyro asking if he’s alright, one from Dell who probably who heard from Pyro, and one from Pauling saying she’ll be dropping his cook off at six. Tavish rubs the bridge of his nose. As though he needed the extra guilt, somehow Pauling’s been roped into this as well. Poor lass has enough on her plate.

However, there’s one person Tavish needs to check in with more than anything.

Jeremy’s hoodie is uncharacteristically disheveled as he comes peering in through the front door, not the least because it’s still far too warm to be wearing such outerwear. He checks around each individual corner, making sure they’re as alone as it appears they are. Maybe he really is avoiding Pyro.

“Ey there lad, you’re looking glum,” Tavish greets when Jeremy finally slinks up to the bar.

“Mmm. Yeah.” He folds his arms and rests his chin on them.

Well, it’s better than yelling nothing’s wrong and running off into the night. Tavish slides a drink toward him. “Something new I’ve been working on. Tell me how you like it. Oh, I almost forgot.”

Next to the club soda he keeps several cans of room temperature Bonk!, which he saves when he knows Jeremy needs a pick-me-up. After pouring a toxic layer on the top of the drink, Tavish adds a crazy straw (the straws are technically Pyro’s, but Tavish knows which of the two of them enjoys them more.) Blithely, Jeremy eyes the concoction before him. Then he slides his whole body to meet the crazy straw and slurps.

“Hey, pretty good man,” he finally concludes, and to Tavish’s relief there’s a bit of warmth back in his voice.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah it’s like…spicy. But not like hot spicy, more like uh…”

“It’s probably the ginger beer.”

“Oh yeah, yeah that’s it. The ginger.” With the termination of this statement, his thoughts catch up with again, and the contemplative half-smile is chased from his face. Instead, he lowers his gaze to the mahogany wood beneath his palms, and begins to trace patterns in the condensation rings.

“…Okay lad, you got tae tell me. What’s eating you?”

Jeremy flinches. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing that…nothing that I want you to know about anyway.”

Tavish dries a glass. The squeaking of water on wood continues. He tries, “c’mon lad-”

“Stop,” Jeremy hisses. “Just stop with the lad crap. It’s. Freaking hell it’s too much to talk about all at once. And I can’t even think when you keep…”

“Just start at the beginning.”

“Okay, fine. You know what? Fine. So Pyro’s gay president or whatever and they finally get me to come to their stupid school club and…I meet people there. Lots of people, and it was kinda weird at first but then it got easier and this one girl started talking to me and it turned out she was really cool.”

“And you, what? Have a thing for her?”

In the fastest turnaround, Jeremy’s eyes narrow, staring daggers into the barkeep. “What the fuck man? Just because I make jokes sometimes doesn’t mean I’d actually ever step out. Jesus. I ain’t that kinda-” He makes a frustrated growl. “Anyway, don’t be an asshole, alright?”

“…I have to admit, you’ve lost me.”

“How could I have lost you? I started from the beginning like you said!”

“For one thing I thought this story was going to end with you realizing you have feelings for Pyro.”

To describe it as ‘incredulity’ would not be doing it justice. It was more like Jeremy had just walked into his home only to find that every single piece of furniture had been nailed to the ceiling and a group of cats were asking him what he was doing in their house.

With the cautiousness of a person who senses they’re being tricked, Jeremy says, “Pyro and I have been dating for six months.”

“I…what?”

“How did you not freaking know that?” Jeremy sounds as flabbergasted as Tavish feels. “You helped us move in together for crying out loud.”

“Move in to be roommates, I didn’t know it was a…” Tavish makes a vague gesture.

“We do all the couples shit, though. We’re always hanging out, and going to movies together, and I drive them to work, an’-” Ticking them off on his fingers, Jeremy stops abruptly, guilt wrinkling his features. He shoves his arms back against the bar and buries his face in them. “An’ I run out on them. And I’m an ass who yells at ‘em when they’re just trying to help.”

As delicately as he can, Tavish says, “I’m sorry lad. I guess I er…didn’t understand the situation as well as I thought. But hiding from me isn’t going to help either.”

“Psh. Ain’t you just proved you don’t know anything?”

There’s some mild indignation at that. “Well when Pyro takes you to meet their gay friends and you come back with an identity crisis, what am I supposed to think?”

Jeremy grits his teeth. “It’s not a sexuality thing.”

“Then what the bloody hell else could it…”

When Jeremy looks up, there is jaggedness, laced by the angry tears that are pricking at the corner of his eyes, and once again Tavish realizes what colossal idiot he’s being.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

There are many sounds Tavish has grown used to when tending the Keep all alone: the tick of the clock, the water heater jumping to life every now and again, the various strung-up seashells that rattle sometimes even though there’s no draft. Now, midday light filtering through the frosted windows, he hears a drip where the kitchen tap hasn’t been turned all the way, and the scrunch of Jeremy running his hands fruitlessly through his hair.

Tavish throws aside the rag he was using to clean, and makes the long walk around to the other side of the bar. He slides a stool closer, wraps an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, and squeezes them together.

They don’t shake. Or if they do, it’s with frustration.

“Freaking…” Jeremy croaks eventually. “Freaking unbelievable. Like I can’t be, for fuck’s sake. You’ve met me. I can’t be, you know. That.”

Tavish does not want to upset this, not when the walls are just starting to come down. Gently, he asks, “and why can’t you be?”

“Because everyone would freak!” Jeremy lurches to a sitting position. “Everyone I know, all my classmates, my family, the guys on the team…oh fuck.” He groans and rubs his face. “I didn’t even think about that. I…I can’t get kicked off the team. I’d lose my scholarship, and my grades are slipping and Ma already threatened to sick my dad on me if they didn’t pick back up and-”

“Hey, hey calm down…mate,” Tavish is quickly realizing dropping haphazard lads into this conversation hasn’t been helping. He squeezes a little tighter. “That’s all a bunch o’ maybes right now. Don’t think that far ahead. Just breathe.”

Jeremy does, out slower but shaky. “I can’t. I can’t not think about it. The more I think and the less I’m sure and…would they even let me play on the girls’ team? Ah Christ.”

His hood has come down at some point in the panic. And his face may never have gotten to the point of true tears, but his eyes are still red. Still furious.

Tavish squeezes him tighter, and to his surprise, Jeremy hugs him back, snapping on like a barnacle. “I’m usually better at not thinking about whatever I don’t want to think about. Shit, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you mate. You can work through this. You got lots of people who want to help.”

Jeremy draws in a breath. “…Yeah.”

“Why are you avoiding Pyro?” Tavish asks. “I don’t mean to be cold, but all things considered they’d have much more insight into a gender crisis than I would.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. Shit.” Jeremy draws back, retreating again to guilt and a focus on the tavern floor. “This…this is going to make me sound like a huge asshole okay but, when they first came out to me I wasn’t…I’ve been a real shithead at some points in my life, you know? Not always this cool and awesome ally and stuff. When that was first going on I said something like ‘haha me too’ and then like…fuck I don’t know. Made an attack helicopter joke or whatever.”

“Attack…helicopter?”

“Never mind,” Jeremy waves him off. “Anyway when all this started I didn’t want them to think I was…making fun of them again. Somehow. Or just playing around.”

There’s a beat. When it’s clear that he isn’t going to continue, Tavish says, “no offense mate, but that’s total malarkey.”

Jeremy grimaces.

“You’ve been friends for how long? And you’ve changed a lot in that time, they know you’re not that person anymore. If you talk to them, really talk to them instead of pushing them out, they’re not going to abandon you during something this serious.”

“I know, you’re right, I know.” Rubbing his face, Jeremy finally straightens his shoulders. “I was just scared. Not that I’m scared now or nothin’!”

At the return of the more familiar bravado, Tavish chuckles. “O’ course. The Scout I know isn’t afraid o’ anything. If I were from where you’re from I’d be dead, ‘n all that rot.”

“That’s right.” A bit of a smile passes across Jeremy’s face. Then it twitches, spinning more contemplative. “And…as long as we’re saying things about being Scout…uh. Just um. Just don’t call me Jeremy right now. I’m still like figuring things out, but since you guys always call me Scout anyways…”

“Can do. Anything else I should keep in mind?”

“I…no. Not yet. If that changes I’ll let you know. But you can spread that first thing around, tell the other guys and stuff. I’m sure they’ll…”

Tavish claps a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll understand,” he finishes the thought.

Scout smiles, and Tavish makes him promise to go talk to his partner before they start moving on to burning whole restaurants.

[pysoch]

Hey guys I have scout angst for you all :3

So one of my favorite musical artists is a fella named Matt Maltese. He's most recognized for his song "As The World Caves In", but he has some absolute bangers in his discography. There's specifically one song from one of his upcoming albums that's been encasing my mind these past hours of my life.

It's raw, which I really like about Matt's music. He doesn't loveslick lyrics like a lot of other songs, but they also have metaphorical meaning occasionally. Usually they're blunt, like this one. However blah blah I can rant about music some other damn time, here's my lil Scout headcanons!!!!!

For maximum experience listen to song. It might make some of these see my vision behind the song.

(t/w for angst and sensitive topics, as usual)

_______________________________

- Scout doesn't like Pauling just because of her looks, duh, but also because she does some things that his mother would do (do not bring Freud into this). Like snorting when she laughs or having a plan C, D, etc for everything. Blunt and humerous, but kind regardless. I guarantee he sends letters to his ma about her.

- Sometimes in battles he completely turns off his voice communications and listens to the muffled chaos around him. It brings him an odd sense of peace when he doesn't have voices interrupting it.

- Although he's still kind an extroverted bragger, and the obvious self esteem issues behind that, he also wears the shield of overconfidence because his ma before he left said he's her favourite soldier of the family.

- Even though in the comics Scout seems to be abrasive towards talking about his dad, he in the hours of the nights talks about it freely to either Engineer or Pyro.

- Adding to that, Engineer is definitely a fatherly figure towards Scout. Scout clings to every time Engie calls him "son" like the southerner he is, and though it's just a nickname, Scout takes it to heart and in his head imagines it as an endearing title.

- Sometimes Scout still goes under his blankets at night and puts a pillow behind his back to pretend its his ma holding him when he's scared or sad. He gets homesick a lot.

- He'll yap about how he's more successful than his brothers but will defend them from other people with his life. Knows em all by name, too, and I like to envision they all write alongside the letters his ma sends. He keeps every single one.

- When he first experienced respawn whilst in the medium, he cried out for his mom and sobbed. Not because of anything to do with death, but because he realized she would've then lost both her husband and her baby boy.

- Once he came back, he crossed his fingers and whispered a "love you" to the ground because of a superstition he has that if you do that then look to the ground, the words will find their way to the recipient's hands and to their ears. He always does it with his ma in mind :)

- Scout has only physically self harmed once, and it was before he was recruited because of ongoing depression. He vowed to never do it again after waking up to his ma holding his arm and crying out small "sorry"s.

- After the comic "reveal" of Tom Jones being his "dad", Scout acts as if he's honored to be his son, but has slowly gained a small resentment towards the singer and can't quite listen to his music the same.

- Heavy and Scout often argue, but Heavy inside really has the brotherly instinct of wanting to protect Scout. Scout semi-recognizes this because he sees Heavy's demeanor like one of his older brothers, but denies that Heavy is intentionally doing it because of resentment.

- BLU and RED scout are the only doppels that still aren't used to each other, and will do whatever it takes to avoid even so much as hearing one another in battle; sometimes avoiding direct instructions from administrator to do so.

I'm really tired so I'm gonna head to sleep for the next half hour before morning classes begin goodnight my lovely followers!!!!!!!!!!!

[for-yoongi0309]

Suga live in New York: a show-stopping statement of artistic intent at the BTS rapper’s debut solo tour

Suga’s first solo tour starts with a bang – quite literally. After rainy graphics pour down on the screen at the back of the stage, accompanied by the sound of continuous showers, a loud crash and an explosion of pyro jolts the UBS Arena into action. The attention-grabbing opening is a nod to the motorcycle accident the BTS rapper experienced during his trainee days. It’s depicted vividly in a video that plays before he takes the stage, featuring the star lying in a rain-soaked street, visions of the past and future cutting over shots of his prone body. Dramatic stage-setting complete, the time comes for Suga – or Agust D, the name his solo work has been released under so far – to enter the spotlight for real. But instead of the usual route of bounding up onto his platform, he’s instead carried on by dancers, who lay him on his back on the stage, recreating the pose we’ve just seen on screen. Mystery abounds as lightning flashes across the screen, and the sound of traditional instruments reverberates in the background until the first notes of ‘Haegeum’ resound around the arena and he leaps up, accelerating the energy in an instant.

“I dare say it’ll be a totally different tour from previous BTS tours, and a tour beyond what everyone can imagine,” Suga told NME recently and, on the second date of the run (April 27), it soon becomes clear that was no exaggeration. It differs from the group’s concerts in its pacing and structure – two main segments that blaze and simmer and an encore, rather than multiple shorter sections – but it’s the latter half of his comment that really hits home.

The rapper’s stage is unlike anything NME has seen before. It is divided into nine panels that, one by one and at different points throughout the show, lift up to the ceiling. Every removal diminishes the space he has to jump about on, but each reveals a new hidden prop or allows a new element of showmanship to be added. When the first four elevate skywards during ‘Give It To Me’, spurts of fire shoot up in the gaps. By the end of the set, no panels remain, returning the star to floor level for an encore that, based on the preceding VCR, strips away the alter egos of Suga and Agust D, leaving just the person Min Yunki to close things out

This might be Suga’s first solo tour, and though he’s used to being flanked by his six bandmates and sharing the spotlight – not to mention entertainment responsibilities – he looks instantly at home and unflappably confident. He jokes with fans that they “slay” and looks amusedly perplexed when the arena unites in barking at him. There’s not a moment on stage where he looks nervous or uncomfortable. While those gathered would likely be satisfied with just seeing Suga rap – and it would be much easier for him to stay in that lane – he uses the concert as a chance to show off his musicality. First, he remakes ‘Trivia: Seesaw’, his solo track from BTS’ 2018 album ‘Love Yourself: Answer’, on an acoustic guitar signed by the other six members.

Later, he sits down at a piano, revealed when another panel moves up to the roof, to perform ‘D-DAY’’s ‘Life Goes On’ and ‘Snooze’. The latter is preceded by a clip from his Road To D-DAY documentary with late composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who features on the recorded version of the song. After the video of the musical legend plays, a message shows on the screens: “I wish you peace on your long journey. RIP Sakamoto Ryuichi.”

There are also chances for Suga to display his underrated vocal skills, adeptly nailing the hook of ‘Life Goes On’ and, in a surprise move, taking over collaborator MAX’s lines in a fiery, fierce version of ‘Burn It’. No matter how flawless these performances are, rap is still his forte and his bar-spitting abilities are second to none tonight. The quick-fire delivery of ‘Agust D’’s second verse – with barely a pause for air – is jaw-droppingly impressive, while a ferocious medley of ‘Cypher pt.3: Killer’, ‘Cypher pt.4’, ‘UGH!’, the deep cut and fan favourite ‘Ddaeng’, and ‘HUH?!’ goes so hard it feels like the entire venue could combust at any second.

A bruising version of ‘Amygdala’, in which Suga sings in increasingly raw and urgent tones, brings the main show to a close, flames licking at the feet of the final panel that forms the remainder of the stage. After a brief intermission, he returns, bathed in orange light that gives the impression he is rising like his own phoenix from the ashes. Where ‘Amygdala’ centres on pain and trauma, his encore opener ‘D-DAY’ brings a positive outlook: “D-Day is coming, it’s a fucking good day,” he raps at one point, while the chorus adds: “Future’s gonna be OK.” It’s an (almost) optimistic closing note to a show that brims with artistic intent and pulls off an ambitious production with ease. “I promise, I guarantee you, I will come back,” Suga tells the audience before the powerful final one-two of ‘Intro: Never Mind’ and ‘The Last’. Let the countdown begin.

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT/FEDERATION MAGAZINE: May 2008

SMACKDOWN INTERVIEW

UNDER THE HOOD

Rey Mysterio sounds off about his nagging injuries, his finisher (which appeared on Heroes), his love of the King of the High Seas and the disappearance of his pyro-tastic pop-up entrance.

BY JEREMY BROWN

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVE HILL

Recently, the injury Gods have not been kind to you. How are you handling the bicep tear?

It’s definitely put me on the back burner again, which I didn’t want. What happens now is that I have to suck it up and try not to think about things too much. I need to get the surgery done, go to rehab, be as strong as I can and then come back–just like I did from knee surgery.

When returning from an injury, do you ever feel 100 percent?

After knee surgery, I struggled at first. I don’t know if the fans noticed, but I definitely felt it, and I tried to improve my ring ability and focus on things I knew I could do. I tried to keep myself from putting too much weight on the knee, and sometimes I'd overcompensate and risk injuring the other knee. But no matter how much you want to change your style, it’s hard to because you’re so used to going out there and performing your best. I always say, “I’m not going to do this or that anymore because it’s hurting my knee,” then two weeks later, in the heat of the moment, there I go again.”

Does this mean no more “pop-up” ring entrances?

That doesn’t strain my knees as much as you’d think. There were some problems with the system that used to pop me up and they haven’t been able to replace it or come up with something similar. I don’t think my current entrance is the best. Don’t worry, we’re working on something.

[Manta-Rey.]

Since returning, you’ve sported increasingly elaborate ring gear. Is that part of this new Rey Mysterio?

I’ve always liked to be unique in my ring attire and stand out from everybody else. I think I picked that up from my uncle, because he always had the best costumes when he stepped into the ring. It’s something I learned early on, you know, to have good presence inside and outside of the ring.

We noticed at Armageddon that you began wearing a hood over your regular mask. What’s that about?

I’m a big fan of skeletons, and I incorporated the half-skeleton/half-mask, and added the rosary to the right side of the pants leg. [PULLS HOOD OUT OF HIS BAG] Before, I had the Aztec cross there. I wear a hoodie on top, which I take off and give to one of the little kids in the front row. I always like to be different. That makes Rey Mysterio, that;s who I am, and I think it keeps the fans always wondering, “What’s he gonna come out with next?”

At SummerSlam you rocked the Silver Surfer look. Before that, The Flash. Which comic book character will we see next?

I think my next one is Iron Man. Hey, I already have the mask!

Speaking of superheroes, on the NBC series Heroes, a character who has the power to mimic anything she sees performed the 619 after watching your match on TV. [REY’S EYES LIGHT UP] Did you know you were going to be featured so prominently on the show?

It caught me completely off guard. I didn’t realize I was going to be on the show. I actually got a kick out of it. You know, when Nacho Libre came out, the little [person] did the 619. And when the latest King Kong came out a few years ago, Kong did a version of the 619 when fighting the dinosaurs. I wonder if they picked that up from me, as well?

Of all the superheroes, whom do you hold in the highest esteem?

I love Aquaman. I haven’t got that outfit, but I need to. There was something about him that really stood out. 

Let’s look into the future: Your bicep is fully healed, and you’re rockin’ a totally sweet Aquaman outfit. Who’s the first Superstar you’d like to square off against, mano a mano?

Triple H. Believe it or not, we’ve never had a one-on-one match, and I think WWE fans would agree that that match would be very, very interesting.

[Uh, Rey, you’ve got something taped to the back of your head.]

[azaenya]

Alright, I'm going to hit you with a

La Signora Headcanon

So. There's a personal question I wanted to answer: Why does La Signora not feel like 500 years old?

I mean, you could just say, because her character was only meant to be a surface-level villain, with a sad backstory added after she's fucking dead, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the headcanon yearns for consistency, and I must deliver.

So my answer is, she doesn't remember.

During her time between the Crimson Witch and La Signora, she disassociated so much, she lost decades, or even centuries, of time. There's a quiet terror in that.

She can recall her life before the Cataclysm, but only in blurry half-memories. Of course she remembers graduating from the Akademiya, her thesis on pyro magic, but her classmates are gone, the exact wording of her paper is on the tip of her tongue before she swallows down a growing nausea.

Rostam.

The person who her heart burned for. The person who she burned for. The person she burned the world for.

She remembers the Wolf Pup of Mondstadt, how he was the origin for the Knights of Favorius's (frankly, watered-down) sword technique.

She remembers the many escapades they went on together, ducking responsibilities and curfews to spend hours with in each other's presence, gazing at the stars, and reciting, honestly, horrid poetry.

She remembers his kindness, most of all.

SHE DOES NOT REMEMBER HIS FACE

She tries not to think about it.

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

So yeah, there's more that could be done. Like for example, we are told by artifact lore, that she became the Witch because of the loss, but honestly, because she can't remember, the reality could be SO much worse than we were told. How worse? Well, that's a question for the little trauma chemists in my brain to figure out. They're working around the clock to find the formula for peak angst, so that will take a while. Bless these little gals.

I'll be honest, they did Signora dirty. She has the capacity to be written as a dark foil to the Traveler, like what will you become when you lose the person you love. But instead, she was just evil woman, and then she died, to the shock of the fandom for, like, a month. Sure, there have been postmortem attempts to characterize her further, and as much as I love it, it's just that: postmortem.

While it would be nice, I heavily doubt she'll come back. It feels like that ship has long since sailed.

But that is why fanfiction exists. To explore the possibilities canon can not. And I gobble up Signora Lives fics.

Also, Signora is transfem.

*runs off into the woods~*

[mrneighbourlove]

Glass Love and Desire: Ch 2. Return to Home

A week went by with Malakath healing his injured body. He took his medicine for the first few days, then added workouts, physically getting in shape again. Soon he’d have to practice his pyro kinesis again.

Chione had been keeping a close eye on Mally. On the following day, when she had found him trying to do push ups with an injured arm, she had chided him severely, and somehow managed to convince him to wait another day. The second day, there was no stopping him, so Chione sighed exasperatedly and informed him if he made it worse, she was not fixing his arm again. Yet, it was an empty threat. The third day, Mally seemed like he was bored and wanted something to do. Chione put him to work, showing him how to pull weeds out of her garden. Mally had balked at first, scowling and giving a small rant in his own language. She did not relent and thrust the basket into his hands, insisting he pull weeds if he wanted something to do. He sulked at first, but then pulled up the weeds with her. 

Half the week had passed. The fourth day, Chione had found him looking through some of her books. She did not have many, most were about plants, but a few were on Naran culture. When Mally would point to a figure, she would give him the word in her tongue. He seemed especially interested with the pages about Daidan Drakes, eagerly pointing to the giant reptiles and then a map. Chione supposed he wanted to know where the drakes lived. The botanist could not help but laugh at his boy-like wonder over the drakes, but there was no chance she was pointing out where the reptiles lived on the map. A drake could swallow him whole! Drakes were not pets. The fifth day, Chione dragged Melly into the kitchen with her. She was trying to show him how to make fresh bread. He stood there, confused, until she showed him to beat and knead the dough. Once again, her efforts were met with a bit of protests, until she pointed sharply at the dough. Yet, he seemed to enjoy beating the dough like it was a punching bag. After the sweet bread came out of the brick oven, Chione offered him a piece with homemade jam. She wondered if he ever had jelly bun before as fast as he ate the treat. It was rather cute.

The sixth day was a bit different. Mally kept trying to walk to the river, and for a moment, Chione thought he would return to Nuabi's homeland under the water. Yet, it seemed he just wanted to take a bath. She had tried to keep him as clean as possible, but ultimately, she understood the desire to have a relaxing bath. When he suddenly stripped with intention to show off his body, Mally had stood there, almost like he was a preening peacock in the Patriarch's Palace. Chione was no stranger to a male's body and sat there on the bank, waiting for him. Yet, Mally was not having that. No, he had splashed her with the water, earning an outraged squeal from the botanist, before he tried to drag her into the river. Chione ended up dunking him under the water and scowling since her clothes and hair were soaked. Later, the smug man kept pointing to his hair and holding out a comb to Chione. Grumbling, the Nara took the comb and worked out the tangles in his hair before braiding it, calling him an insufferable brat the entire time, saying he was lucky he was still healing.

Now, Mally was almost healed. It was shocking to see his arm recover from being broken so fast, but then again, she assumed water sprite biology was different than botanist. As Mally proceeded to test his body's strength again, Chione sat on a bench nearby and sliced the fresh mangoes from the trees she grew.

Malakath had enjoyed some of his time here. Whole house work was normally beneath him, it did help him gain his strength back. More so, he was becoming more and more enamoured with Chione. She was a fine specimen of a woman in his eyes. Yet, he was still frustrated by a few things. First off, no one had seemingly come to find him. Yes, they were on foreign lands to hunt down Waku that spread out like weed's roots, but he was a prince. He was sure his father was frantic in finding him. Or at the very least his sister. 

But perhaps that was the point. Was his defeat a weakness they couldn’t stomach? Perhaps his twin would take advantage of that to have the throne for herself. 

Even if his family wasn’t looking, what about the army? Not knowing this foreign land wasn’t an excuse. They should have at least followed the river. 

Then there was the language barrier between himself and Chione. All this care and attention and he couldn’t even hold a conversation. Sure they had communicated well with physical gestures and common sense, but Malakath wanted to speak to her openly. Although, it did, for now, have one advantage. He could speak plainly to her about anything with a straight face and he was sure she didn’t understand.

Grabbing the mango, he bit a large chunk of it. “I wonder if your lips are sweeter than this fruit.”

"Hungry again? I never knew Nuabi's children could have such appetites." Chione watched as he eagerly ate the mango. Peeling another, the botanist was usually careful with the knife as she sectioned the fruit into pieces. Yet, this time, her grip slipped from the juices and she managed to cut her index finger. Hissing softly, Chione shook her hand and then noticed the blood. "Damn it."

Malakath watched the blood closely. He found himself frowning at her pain. Wait, why should he care? He was a prince. Yet he did. Walking forward, he grabbed her hand, then held her finger. 

“Hold still.”

Focusing intently, he allowed his fire to gently laser in from his palm into the cut. There was a warmth from a source she couldn’t see, but a bright yellow glow like the sun came out from his clenched hand. When he was done, he let go and her finger had stopped bleeding. 

It looked as if her finger had been gently cartelized. Malakath let out a breath once he was done. “I believe that should suffice.”

"What are you doing?" Chione asked as he took her hand in his, inspecting her cut finger. She noted him frowning and staring at the blood. A small cut like this was not enough to maim her. Mally was acting as if she was terribly injured. It was rather endearing. "I'll be okay, it's just a cut---what?!"

The Naran woman was shocked when she felt his touch grow warm. The yellow radiating from his touch was unexpected. Yet, she did not pull away, too stunned to do so. As Mally released her hand, Chione did not realize he had fire magic, but rather thought it was some sort of healing technique. Her flesh looked slightly different around the cut, but it did not hurt. Perhaps this was why he could not heal himself, he was too weak, but now, his power had returned?

Blinking, Chione looked at her finger, curious, "How did you do that?"

“I am a prince. A lord of fire.” Malakath saw her point at her finger and assumed she wanted an explanation. He would reveal himself fully, he felt the power coming back to him. “Behold and witness me.”

Stepping back, he raised both hands into the air. Breathing the hot air around him and feeling the heat of the sun, he channeled and showed off an incredible display of fire. Rising high into the clouds, a tower of fire burned, a beacon of his power. With some alterations, he had it spread out to look like a Phoenix. Fitting, seeing he felt reborn.

Whoever Mally was, he most certainly was not a child of Nuabi, the water goddess. Startled, Chione stood up from her bench and backed away from the man, dropping her basket of fruit and peeling knife. What was this?! Was he a demigod? A fallen deity? A powerful magician? Answers eluded Chione for now, but she was more focused on not being turned into a pile of ash. While Mally had not threatened her before, she could not help but be cautious now.

Malakath stopped his display, all the flames dissipating. When he saw her reaction, he frowned. Was she afraid? She should be in awe!  Stepping forward, he held out a hand. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Chione glanced at him, and then at his hand. The botanist still felt a little unsure. Though, she supposed logic would argue if he wanted to hurt her with such fire, Mally could have potentially done so earlier. Slowly, Chione extended her hand to take his, still cautious, but also curious. She looked at his palm and then turned it over to look at the top of his hand. Where did the fire come from? Did he just... summon it from nowhere? While the Nara was initially a little frightened, her inquisitiveness was also getting the best of her. If this man was not a child of Nuabi... what was he? 

"What are you?" Chione knew he could not understand her, but still voiced her questions. "... who are you?" Surely someone with such power was of great importance. Even so, what force could have washed him up at her doorstep in such a terrible state? "Are you a child of Atanna? Part of the blazing sun?"

He held her hand, another reaching to hold her by her shoulder. “I’m sure you’re fascinated by me. How I wish I could speak to you.”

Malakath felt his groin area burn looking at her. She was gorgeous and it was becoming harder and harder for him to deny. “In some ways it’s been nice the way you‘ve treated me without knowing who I am. There’s an honesty in that. But I’m selfish I suppose. I want you to know who I am. I want to know more about you.”

Was Mally trying to assure her with his hand upon her shoulder? It was a simple gesture, but a sweet one from such a powerful man. Chione gave Mally a soft smile as he spoke, not understanding, but figuring there were words of reassurance. Perhaps she could obtain a partial answer in regards to his fire magic.

"Atanna?" Chione pointed to the sun, trying to mimic being hot by waving her face. "You're a child of the sun? The fire in the sky?"

“Atanna?” Was that a god? He pointed to the sun and all around him. “My people were crafted by a God called Exodrum. The Father of Fire and Power. I am an avatar of power.” He pointed at himself. “I am a Hasai.”

"Ha... sa... e?" Chione had never heard of such a name before. How could clarify the meaning? Was it the name of his people? Or the name of his divine parents? She thought for a moment, then spoke. "Nara." She gestured to herself, making sure to note her horns and tail for emphasis, and then to him. "Hasai?"

At last. He had a name for her people. Assuming she wasn't a unique one of a kind. His hand went down her shoulder to around her waist. With his other hand, he gestured towards her horns. "A Nara. Hasai don't have horns. May I feel them? I'm curious by the texture."

"Nara, yes." It appeared Mally understood what she was trying to insinuate. "We are the descendants of Daidan, the first drake to rule the desert and his lover, the sorceress, Aliyah."

The sudden touch on her hip nearly caused her to jump. Chione was not expecting him to touch her so casually. Being a... Hasai, Mally left no thoughts to personal boundaries, did he? Maybe this was normal in his culture. Then once more, the man motioned to her horns and Chione turned slightly red. This was going to be harder to explain.

She tried her best, "Sensitive. Um..." Chione remembered how he grabbed her tail. She motioned to her tail, then to her horns with a bit of a flustered face. "Sensitive. Like my tail, okay?"

Was she blushing? Malakath felt a sense of pride. Of course she was. He was a specimen of his man and he would be well suited and cared for in his hands. Grinning like a scoundrel, he put on a polite face. "I'll be careful." 

Gently, his hand went to her horn.

"Rrrrrrrrhhhhrrrrhnnnmmm." Chione could not suppress the purr rumbling up from her throat when Mally suddenly touched her curved horn. It was almost an automatic reaction from the pleasurable sensation. Snapping back to her senses, a shade the color of blood flooded her cheeks as she removed Mally's hand from her horn. "I told you my horns are sensitive, okay?"

Malakath was stunned by the *noise* that came out of her. All the bravado sucked out of him. Stepping back, he gulped down that insecurity. He then turned side ways, hoping she wouldn’t know his growing ‘Royal Rod’. “That was some reaction.”

"Oh, I'm not growling at you!" Chione noticed his surprised expression, and apologized. "It's just... a Nara's horns and tail are very sensitive, okay? It's an... erogenous zone." She wanted to smack herself. Sighing, the flustered botanist ran a hand down her face, hiding the blush. "I'm trying to explain this to you and you can't even understand me."

Taking a few breaths to calm himself down, he pointed to the outside world. “I can walk. I want you to show me where I am. Can you do that?”

"... you want to walk around?" Chione was grateful he was changing the subject per se. "Sure, we can do that."

Malakath strode out towards the smell of the river, not having a worry in the world.

"Is there something you want to see here?" Chione asked, noting him looking out over the river. "Be careful. I don't want to have to fish you out of the water again."

Malakath looked around, trying to see if there were any high peaks he could look from. “There has to be other Hasai around. I’m sure of it.”

"Are you looking for someone?" Chione noticed him glancing about the landscape. Was he trying to... figure out where he was? Maybe he did not know. She did live on the outskirts of the kingdom's capital. Maybe if she showed him on a map, he would have a better idea of where he was. "Here," Chione always took a map with her when gathering plants. It was easier to mark where spots were for gathering Kamazu plants or others for selling at the market. Opening her map, the Nara pointed to the river upon it. "Aaru. Aaru River."

Map seemed to be the size of the country. Or at least the territory. He gestured his arms out to have a larger size. “I need bigger.”

"A world map?" Chione noticed the gesture of his arms indicating he wanted a larger view. "I'm sorry. I don't think I have one, but..." She picked up a stick and started to draw in the mud from the riverbank. Firstly, Chione outlined the shape of Al-Daidan. Then, she etched Danjur. After that, she drew the borders which met her home of Omisha and Malus. Labrynna and Hyrule were last. Though, the writing was in her language. So, Chione did her best to clarify for Mally. "Al-Daida. Omisha. Malus. Danjur. Labrynna. Hyrule."

Malakath watched closely. He had names now for every country on the continent! So much territory! So much land outside the empire. And there it was. He pointed to a beach that was right on the border of Omisha and Al-Daida. “This is where we made landfall tracking the traitors. I was able to travel inland, to this jungle top. I must have fallen into the river here, and traveled all the way… here. To you.”

"Oh... here? The Kemet Beach?" Chione recalled the beautiful beaches with black sand. She tried to think of how many days it would take to get to that location from her home. The Nara held up three fingers, hoping he would understand. "Three days."

Three days? Or three weeks. Either way, the prince frowned at the information. Was that by mount? Or by *walking*? The thought disgusted him. Nevertheless, that was his reality. “I suppose we have quite the journey then.”

"Kemet Beach," Chione marked the spot Mally had indicated. She tapped her feet with the stick and imitated walking, following the river. Then once more, she held up three fingers. "Three days by foot."

Though, it begged the question, why did he want to go there? Nonetheless, if Mally deserved to leave, he was free to do so. Chione glanced upward at the sky and noticed the angle of the shadows. It was time to go to the markets! She had to hurry to set up her stall or her customers would be most dissatisfied.

She told Mally, "I need to go to work now. It's time to sell my plants." This would be difficult to explain. Well, it was best to make use of the riverbank's mud while she was here. The Nara jotted a picture of the market, and her selling plants. It was noticeable that the figure was her, due to her curved horns. Then motioned to herself. "I need to go to work."

“You need to help me.” Malakath pointed to himself, then her. He then realized something. Grabbing a stick, he drew a crown in the sand. He then pointed at himself more confidently. “I am royalty. You will be greatly rewarded for your time spent helping me.”

"You... want to see the Patriarch?" Chione blinked at the drawing of a crown, misunderstanding his meaning completely. She drew a Nara with long, angular horns underneath the crown, and gave Mally a look of puzzlement. "Patriarch of the Nara? I doubt he'll see you. He won't see us common folk."

Yes! She was finally clueing into who she was! “Yes! I’m royalty! I’m Prince Malakath! Come on, we can leave now!”

"...?" Chione heard him say his own name and then gesture to the crown. Wait, was he saying he was a noble? Perhaps the Hasai were demigods and lived a mortal life, even with such power. When Mally gestured to the beach again, the realization finally struck Chione of what he wanted. "Wait, you want me," She gestured to herself, "To take you," She then pointed to the spot on her crudely drawn map. "To Kemet Beach?"

The prince nodded his head with a great amount of enthusiasm “Yes! You know the land! You will be my guide!”

Chione busted out laughing at his enthusiasm to travel to Kemet Beach. At his expression of displeasure, the Nara uttered one word with a shake of her head.

"No." Chione shook her hand in dismissal. "No, no way. There's drakes, crocodiles, and venomous snakes along the river and I don't have a boat. There's no way I'm walking there."

Malakath had certainly learned what her word was for ‘no’ over the week. He took her hand again. “I can’t afford to wait. I need to go to my people now. They need me.”

"Crocodiles." Chione etched the reptile in the mud alongside a huge drake. Then, she shook her head once more. This was the only way to get him to understand. He seemed sincere, but she was not taking him into a death trap of a landscape. "Drakes. Not safe."

“I’ve killed Dragons.”

"Are you really that insistent upon going?" Chione sounded exasperated. 

This was going to be difficult. She tried to think of a way to get him there without the river. There were sand rays, but that was a long shot. Sand rays were really picky about who they allowed upon their backs to be carried across the desert. Not to mention, sand rays required a token for their efforts. What could she offer? 

Touching the jingling adornment one horn, it was all the jewelry Chione had left. Her family was gone. It was just her now. To part with it was nearly an unbearable thought. Sand rays adored shiny trinkets and she was sure it would be accepted. But... if Mally had to go, she could not deny him. After all, with that kind of power, he had to be someone important. Perhaps his Hasai deity would look upon her with favor.

It appeared she would not make it to the market today. The desert was just a short walk away from her own humble abode. Chione silently motioned for Mally to come with her. Returning to her home, she packed him a bag full of food to last the journey. Instead of three days, the sand rays could get him there in one. Once she was finished, she urged Mally to follow.

Malakath was pleased by this course of action. She was doing the correct thing in helping her. Once she was prepared, he followed her lead. Like it or not, she had part of his safety in her hands.

It was an odd structure to approach. There was a set of stone stairs leading to nowhere in the beginning of the vast desert. Chione stood still for a moment, taking in the surroundings. Then, she whistled as loudly as she could. A few minutes passed, but she waited patiently. It was only when the ground started rumbling horribly that she noted Mally's alarm.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Chione assured him. It was not long before the sand ray rose from the ground with a deafening echo emitting from its mouth. As the massive sand ray urged from the desert, Chione quickly knelt on the stairs to nowhere. Tugging Mally's shirt insistently, she nearly dragged him down as well. Sand rays were noble creatures, back from the times of the ancient nomadic days of her people. It was an incredible creature, larger than most dragons, but docile to most.

The gargantuan sand ray stared at Chione with those black eyes and then at Mally. It was waiting to see who summoned him. Taking off the adornment from her horn, she held it in her upturned palms as an offering with her head slightly bowed. She made sure to speak with the most elegance she could muster. 

She asked, "Please, oh guardian of the desert, will you take my friend, Mally, to Kemet Beach? I believe there are some like him there and he wishes to return home. I offer you this trinket, adorned with black opals, as a tribute for his passage."

The sand ray clicked in response, eyeing the horn adornment. Pleased with the offering, the sand ray then extended one of its long whiskers to grasp the jewelry. Then, in a flash of an eye, it had absorbed the minerals from the gold and opal. To the sand rays, precious gems or jewels were a source of energy. Then, the beast lowered its head so Mally could walk onto his body.

Malakath watched in wonder at the creature. As he walked on, he turned to Chione, offering a hand. “Come on. We need to continue forward.”

As Mally extended his hand, Chione gave a sad smile and shook her head. It was rather sweet that he wanted her to come, but she could not. She held up one finger, then pointed to her horn, then to him. The trinket was only good for passage for one.

"I'm sorry," Chione gave a soft wave to him as the sand ray started to move. "But this is where we part ways. If you come back to Al-Daida again, come by to see me. I'll miss your company."

Malakath stared like a reptile, his gaze eying the gem she sacrificed to the creature. Was that what was required? A trinket? 

Looking at his hand, the prince pulled off a Ruby ring that had been given to him by his father as a gift for his 18th birthday. He could simply get another one. He walked forward and placed it in her hand. “Use this. Come with me.”

"...?! What? No, no, no, this is yours!" Chione protested, not wanting to sacrifice the ring to the sand ray. If a Hasai was part of a divinity, even a small chance, it would not be right to take such a precious token from him! "I'll have to find a way back. It would be useless for me to go with you---hey!!!"

When Mally yanked her onto the sand ray, she saw the whisker take the brilliant ruby and break down the gem for energy. Well, so much for protesting. The stubborn man just had to get his way, didn't he? Chione gave him a brief look of annoyance before sitting down on the sand ray. She gave the immense beast's head a pat as it rumbled in appreciation. At first, the creature simply shifted through the desert dunes, getting a bit faster and faster... until with a giant flap of its wings, it started to soar through the sky.

Malakath watched in wonder as the creature took off through the sky! It was a marvelous feeling to have the air through his hair and hit his skin. Spreading his arms out, he laughed in triumph. “Yes! I’m king of the world!”

"Seems like you're enjoying your first time on a sand ray." Chione snickered a little at his awe of flying throughout the desert sky. Though, it was not a good idea to stand for too long. Gently, she tugged on his pant leg, indicating he needed to sit. "Brace yourself. When they land to get more speed, it will be bumpy."

Malakath took his seat beside her, his grin looking almost radiant. “Chione. This is magnificent.” 

He found himself staring into her eyes, a little longer than normal.

"Ramlah Rayan." Chione patted the sand ray underneath her hand, speaking in her native tongue. It was what Mally heard as she spoke due to the language barrier. She was trying to tell him what the beautiful and majestic sand rays were called. "I loved to watch them in their flocks when I was small. You should wait and see when many of them travel together. Leaping and twirling, playing like kids."

Malakath found himself just liking the sound of her voice. Was soothing, like glass he supposed. He nodded along, eying the way her hair flowed through the wind.

It only took a few hours via sand ray to arrive at the other side of the desert. Kemet Beach had black sand from the nearby volcanic mountains which surrounded the Malus border. It was a lovely landscape, providing rich fertile grounds to the borders of Omisha as well. Stopping at another stairway to nowhere, the sand ray waited patiently while Mally disembarked. Chione soothed the sand ray with a few words of praise, asking it to stay nearby so she could have passage back home.

Stepping off gracefully, Malakath took Chione’s hand. “I suppose thanks are in order.”

"Yes, this is Kemet Beach," Chione assured Mally as she carefully took his hand to steady her steps while dismounting the sand ray. "This is where you wanted to come, right?"

Malakath looked at the sand she pointed out. He had certainly received reports of black sand, but had not seen this area himself. The location his ships made landfall on were full of yellow sand, not black. He walked around, scanning for signs of his people. “There has to be someone nearby…”

Taking a breath, he looked to the sky and raised his hands. Once again, he fired a pillar of fire into the sky. The flames burned brightly and acted as a prime beacon. As his flames fizzled out, he took a deep breath, glancing back at Chione as he took a seat. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait.”

Once more, Chione was amazed by the beautiful display of fire. Yet, she then noticed the crackling underneath Mally's feet. Excited, she tugged at his arm and gestured to the striking glass forming with streaks of colorful sand.

"Look! Look!" Chione bent down to observe the formation of glass, which was speckled with the various colors of black sand. "Isn't it beautiful? This can also happen when lightning strikes sand. It takes its own shape unless molded by careful hands. This is very expensive, all the nobles have a piece."

Looking down, Malakath's eyes widened. Sand meeting fire, of course! For someone of his talents, he could craft whatever he chose! Perhaps, a gift was in order. 

Motioning her to step back, he fired a stream of fire at the sand. Carefully, and it took a few attempts, the end result was a necklace made of glass. Picking it up, Malakath could feel that it was fragile as it was dazzling, but it would hold its form as long as it wasn’t dropped. “Here. For you.”

"... you want me to take this?" 

Chione carefully took the crafted glass and stared at the marvel of such a fine piece of jewelry. There were no precious gemstones or gold embedded into it, but nevertheless, it was still beautiful. Though, she mistook the purpose of the piece. Chione thought it was a head piece instead of a necklace. So, she took one end and attached it to the left horn and then the right, a small section of the necklace drooping over her forehead. Horn adornments were very popular in Naran culture, as a way to show off and to signal status. The more adornments, the richer the individual.

Malakath watched in wonder as she placed it upon her forehead. She made her own intent behind beauty. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone, even a Hasai, as beautiful as you my dear.”

"Thank you for the horn piece," Chione knew that a sign of thanks in Naran culture was to briefly touch heads. Females were usually gentler with approach, rubbing foreheads for a moment or so, while males were more heartier, maybe even a headbutt for those who were close. She did not think it would be a good idea to suddenly do this without knowing his people's customs. The last thing she wanted to do was offend. So, she could only smile as a token of thanks for the time being. "I'll be sure to wear it as often as I can."

Malakath looked around, spotting a good tree that could shelter them from the elements. “I’m going to set up a place for us to camp for the night. It shouldn’t be too long I hope until we see other Hasai.”

Nightfall at Kemet Beach was quite a scene to witness. The setting sun made the black sand sparkle with an iridescent light. Yet, since the beach was in proximity to the desert, the temperature was rather cold. Sitting in front of the fire, Chione really wished she had brought better clothes from her modest home. Then again, she really had not planned on accompanying Mally to Kemet Beach.

Turning the fish, Chione checked to see if the meal was done and then offered the largest one to Mally. When he stared at it, the botanist then took another fish roasting over the fish and eagerly bit into it. The flavor was wonderful. 

For a treat, she had gathered a few coconuts from the surrounding palm trees. Now, that had been an amusing event. Mally had been ready to throw a fireball at one of the fruits, but Chione climbed the tree with ease. She was not sure if his sudden strident words had been from concern or surprise. With her strength, it was no feat for her to climb the tree nor to open the coconuts. The Nara simply bashed two of the coconuts to split the fruit in half.

Rubbing her arms, the Nara inched slightly closer to the fire. While she could tolerate extreme temperatures from the desert, the cold at night was not exactly kind.

Malakath was doing his best to not visibly shiver from the cold. His homeland didn’t have cold nights like these, so frigid and cold. Yet he would not look weak in front of Chione. 

He kept the fire going, making it blaze bright with a snap of his fingers every once in a while. Looking to the Nara, Malakath flexed a smile. “It’s amazing you live in a country with cold nights like these.”

"Thank you for stoking the fire again," Chione offered Mally another fish and piece of the coconut. "At least the trees block a bit of the wind."

Malakath looked around, staring up at the stars. He liked to imagine he could feel the heat, even with them so far away. Scooting closer to Chione, the Ocho scratched his chin. "I wonder how much your people would be open to becoming part of the empire."

Chione noticed Mally staring at the sky. Was he looking at the constellations? Taking a small piece of driftwood, the Nara staring outline some of the stars. Then, she connected the stars to show the various constellations in the sky.

"Daiden the Drake. Aliyah the Sorceress." Chione named each for Mally. "Amek, the Mother of All. Temsah the Great Jaws of the River."

Was she pointing out constellations? Malakath supposed he could do the same. He pointed upwards, pointing at other stars. "Ghidorat, the Great Destroyer. Mothberra, the Cosmic Flame. Both in tandem, flying in each other's path." 

Gently, his free hand reached out to grab hers.

"My father was an astronomer, and my mother sold flowers." Chione knew he could not understand her, but it still felt nice to talk. "He once gave my mother a piece of a fallen star as a gift. We buried her with it. Then I buried him with the piece of her horn." It made her sad to think of her parents. "I'm their only child, so... I miss them. But sometimes, when I look at the sky, I think they're still there. Watching from the heavens."

When Mally took her hand, Chione gave it a soft squeeze.

Malakath looked to see her expression soften. Her eyes seemed different, filled with remembrance. Something lost perhaps? When she squeezed back, he spoke gently to her. “I wish you would come with me. I know that every motion you’ve made has been one of kindness to help me, yet you seem content staying here. I could provide so much more for you.”

"It'd be nice if we could understand each other," Chione laid back on the leaves she had gathered earlier to use as bedding. "Maybe one day. Come, you need to rest." She patted the spot beside her. "Let's sleep."

Malakath eyed the spot beside her. Walking over and lying down, he took a breath and waited for her to lie beside him.

"I hope you sleep well." Chione slept curled up, with her knees to her chest. Most Naras slept this way to conserve heat at night. It was not long before she was snoozing peacefully.

Malakath watched her slowly shiver. She shouldn’t have had to be like this. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around her, providing body heat to the Nara. 

“You’ll be okay.”

The early morning sunrise caused Chione to stir lightly. She did not want to get up yet, even though there was work to be done. Her herbs and flowers needed to be watered and weeds needed to be pulled. True, she did miss market day, but the botanist could always sell some goods to the local apothecary. Comfortable, Chione purred slightly at the warmth, not wanting to move, and snuggled further into the source. In her half-asleep mind, she had forgotten about being at Kemet Beach.

Malakath was in deep sleep, perfectly content as he rested. His body had naturally spooned Chione, holding her closely, his arm still comfortably around her.

Talking. Who was talking? Chione grumbled softly and started to blink open her sleepy eyes... when she saw men with weapons in front of the extinguished campfire. Alarmed, the Nara jumped to her feet, nearly tripping over Mally in the process. These men resembled Mally's race, but were a different color. When they brandished their weapons at her, Chione hissed, on edge at their sudden appearance. What did they want?!

One of them stepped forward, grabbing Chione by the foot and dragging her away. As she hissed and roared in defiance, the albino skinned soldiers pressed an ax to her throat. 

Just as another raised a blade to strike her down, he was suddenly kicked away by Malakath. 

“Away you fools!!! I command it! Lay a hand on her and you won’t see another sun!”

The other soldiers were quick to obey, fast to back away from the Nara. Once he felt that they were going to stay in line, Malakath walked over to her, helping her up on her feet. “Are you okay?”

Chione yowled when one of the guards dragged her, kicking him in the balls. When the other suddenly put the weapon to her throat, she froze, leaning her head back in the sand as far as she could away from the blade. Had she come all this way to die?! As Mally saved her from being hacked to pieces, Chione was still on edge, her tail spiked and her eyes narrowed. These men seemed to listen to Mally, but she did not trust them not to hurt her. Taking his hand, Chione got to her feet, and peeked over at the intruders, standing very close to Mally. It was obvious the Nara was frightened. Her tail curled around his leg tightly to prevent him from running off as she tried not to tremble.

"Soldiers. They're my soldiers." Malakath held her shoulders, rubbing them to calm her down. Bloody Skurge. Loyal Hasai, perhaps to a fault. He turned his gaze back to them. "And I'll ram my fist through the face of any who dare harm her." 

"And who is she, that she's so important?" 

The prince turned his gaze to who would dare speak in such a term. His eyes widened when another Ocho rode towards him on the back of a Griffon. "Sister?" 

The Hasai Princess had green skin like her brother, except her hair was black with white streaks. Unlike her brother, she was adorned in fully battle armour, with arm bands that had emeralds in them. Her mount stared daggers at Malakath and Chione, ready to strike if given the command. 

"Indeed. I must say I'm... happy, to see that you are alive, Malakath." 

The prince cleared his throat, and stood up straight. Sure she was. She had a duty to look for him and bring him back home, but if he had died on this journey, that would only help her own plans as future Empress. "It is good to see family."

Turning to Chione, the prince gestured to his sister. "Chione. This is Princess Silvia. My twin sister." The prince made a motion that he and her were bonded together. "Silvia, this is Chione. She is a local that helped save my life and nursed me back to health. I would be greatly upset if anything happened to her."

Mally was trying to soothe her, Chione understood this. His words had a reassuring tone. Yet, Chione was still quite spooked from the incident. While her tension eased slightly, she stayed glued to Mally's side, eying the guards with disdain. When the woman on the griffon approached, Chione noticed the similarities between her and Mally. The beast did not seem happy nor did the lady. Who was she? Was this woman his family?

As Mally gestured to the woman and then himself, Chione hesitantly leaned forward a little and gave a few sniffs. Yes, his scent was similar to hers. The two had to be siblings. Yet, the woman had a radiating aura of malice. While Chione did not like her, she was being cordial for Mally's sake. She did not want anything negative with weapons to start again. When Mally spoke her name a few times, she tried the foreign title on her tongue.

"Sil... vi... ah." Chione repeated after him, asking for clarification if she was pronouncing his sibling's name properly. "Mally. Sil-vi-ah?"

“That’s good Chione. Silvia.”

“Mally? You pick up a pet Malakath?” The prince frowned, holding onto Chione protectively. Seeing that this was a subject to not be poked at, Silvia pointed to a boat pulling up by the shore. “Father wants to see you back at the homeland to report your findings. Immediately.”

Malakath slowly nodded, sighing. “Give me a moment with her?”

Silvia pondered this, before nodding back. “Very well. Two minutes. The rest of you, prepare for liftoff.”

Once everyone had given the prince space, he turned to Chione. He gestured to the two of them together, then the boat. “Will you come with me Chione? I know I can be good to you.”

Not protesting when Mally pulled her closer, Chione watched the woman with careful eyes. No, she did not like her. Something was *wrong* with that woman. As Silvia departed, Chione released a breath she did not release she was holding. She also did not mean to wrap her tail around his leg so tightly. It was a bit embarrassing to feel so afraid and then immediate relief. Sheepishly, she uncurled her tail from around Mally's leg so he could move freely.

However, when he pointed to the boat, then the two of them, Chione was very surprised. He wanted her to come?! Away from her homeland? She barely knew the man! What was he thinking? Those people just threatened her! No, it was bad to jump to conclusions. Perhaps things were different with his people. Something was causing all of them to be on guard. She helped him because it was the right thing to do, but was not going to follow him any further. While he was obviously important to his people, and Chione had no clue Mally was a prince, she was not ready to go with him.

"I'm sorry, but my home is here." Chione shook her head lightly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "You are very sweet, but I know nothing of you or your people. You seem very important to them. You're a someone, I'm... a no one." She gave him a gentle nudge toward the boat. "You belong with them. I belong here."

Malakath had picked up on a few words from Chinone. Some numbers, and yes and no. Speaking in her tongue, he shook his head and held her hand to his chest. “You… are not… a no one.”

"You're sweetheart." Chione gave him a soft smile as he held his hand close to his heart. It was nice having company for a time. She was often by herself, with only her garden for company. "Go home. I'll be okay."

Malakath, placed a gold ring into her palm, shutting it close. "This is for you to give to the flying beast. You keep the glass I gave you."

The prince looked into her eyes one more time, letting go of Chione. For now. "And this, is so you don't forget me." 

With one hand around her waist, and the other gently caressing a horn, he leaned in closely, planting a warm, pillowy kiss upon her lips.

Jewelry? Why was he giving her jewelry? Oh... the sand ray, it would need a trinket to take her back home. It was so kind of him to be considerate to part with a golden ring. Chione did not want to have to sacrifice the beautiful horn adornment he made for her. It was her sole treasure.

As Mally pulled her in closer, earning a loud purr from touching her horn, Chione allowed herself to be kissed by the strange man who was washed into her life by the Aaru River. Maybe this was a way his people said goodbye or expressed thanks. She was not sure, but she supposed one of her own customs was not harmful if he wished to try his. As the kiss parted, Chione rubbed her forehead against his as a sign of affection.

"Be safe, Mally."

Malakath longed to take her. But that was not his destiny as of today. Instead, he simply made his way back to the docked boat.

Getting on board the deck, Silvia was watching him closely. “Careful brother. A kiss can lead to a bond.”

“I know what I’m doing sister. Who I choose to love is my choice.”

“Just be careful.” Silvia went over and hugged her brother. “Don’t think otherwise. I was worried for you.”

The prince crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Really now?”

“When I become Empress, I want you to see my triumph.” Least she was honest, he thought. “Is there anything I can get you Malakath?”

The prince paused, an idea coming to him. “Yes… yes I do. Go along the shore until we find another Nara. We need a local that can teach us the language of their people.”

Silvia didn’t laugh at the idea, her own mind thinking it over. “You want to see her again, don’t you?Are her people a resource, an ally, or an enemy to the Kikai Empire?”

“They are a strong people. I think they have the blood of dragons, like us, sister.”

“…Fine. We can do that.” Silvia raised a curious brow. “You know, we could pick up a few others from this continent. Could do us good to get accustomed.”

Malakath nodded. Turning back, he saw Chione taking off back into the air. Clenching his fist, the prince made a promise. “I will see you again."

______________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/738965846876160000/glass-love-and-desire-ch-1-foreign-prince-in-a

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/741967992284381184/glass-love-and-desire-ch-3-folded-into-the

Prequel to The War of Fire, written with @ridersoftheapocalypse

[fruit-teeth]

Chronicles of Love and War (chapter 26)

Engineer suddenly felt angry, but he felt as though he shouldn’t be. As he gazed at Spy from across the meeting table, he realized it was pointless to harbor any ill will toward him. After all – Spy and Fred had been foes with one another. Come to think of it, Fred had even been foes with Dell himself, in a strange sort of way. His mind flipped back to their conversation earlier, and he asked himself: was it always like this? Was war alway so complicated?

Spy could feel Engineer’s eyes on him, but he said nothing. Perhaps after the meeting, he would ask how Fred was. Or maybe, he would just figure out which room the old man was in and just snoop around there.

But there was no time for that now: Bea, along with some other unidentified opponents, had learned the location of the base.

“What do we know about that lad Bea had with her?” Demoman spoke up from where he was seated towards the front of the meeting room. “Anyone know who he is?”

Spy quickly composed himself, clearing his throat. “Based on what Helen said, I'm not sure. However, based on his description, I believe he is a member of some government facility."

Scout groaned. “Oh, great, a fed!”

“A fed?” Engineer repeated, brows furrowed. “That can’t be, she’d never team up with a fed!”

“Well, we cannot be too sure of anything,” Spy sighed. "We have two options: either find them before they get to us, or strengthen the base's security against any incoming danger.”

“How about we do both?” Sniper suggested. “I mean– that seems like the right option, right?”

“Yes, true,” Spy mused, pausing in thought. “But we must consider something: we have civilians on this base. No matter what happens, we need to keep them out of harm’s way. My thought was to put them up in a hotel for a while — under protection, of course.”

“I dunno if Ma would like that,” Scout muttered.

Yana suddenly raised her hand. “Maybe we split up! Half us go look, half of us stay!”

Heavy considered that prospect for a moment. “Maybe that is best…”

“Yes!” Soldier barked in agreement. “I would like to stay with Zhanna!”

“All right, let’s see…” Spy got a sheet of loose-leaf paper and began scribbling on it. “Here — let’s take a vote of who wants to stay behind and who wants to go on a search party…” he cleared his throat. “If you would rather stay behind and defend the base, raise your hand!”

Soldier instantly stuck up his hand, and so did Medic.

Spy blinked in surprise when he noticed Medic’s hand raised. “You’d really rather stay behind?”

“I have some research I need to finish,” Medic explained. “Not to mention, Zhanna…”

“Zhanna?” Heavy glanced up, concerned. “Is something wrong with her?”

“Well…” Medic’s voice faltered. “Maybe. After I got back, I only got to check on her briefly, but it seems she’s showing mild signs of early labor. It might be nothing, but I’d rather stay behind just in case.”

Heavy frowned upon hearing this. “Oh, dear…I will stay behind, too. Make sure it is all okay…”

“I will, too!” Yana piped up, and she turned to look at Bronislava. “What about you?”

Bronislava thought about it. “I…I would like to go searching. Mama will be there for Zhanna, if anything happens…”

Spy made a note of all this on the paper. “I see…keep in mind, we may be moving our civilians to a hotel for safety reasons. Anyone else who plans on staying behind?”

Demoman raised his hand. “Aye! I plan to plant some bombs ‘round the area just in case any bastards come snooping!”

“Same here,” Engineer agreed. “I actually might put up sentries around, too, and I might even hook up the hydro pump I made.”

"Good idea," Spy said, before adding, "Medic, Heavy, Soldier, Demoman, Engineer, and Yana will stay behind. Does that make sense?"

When murmurs of agreement rose up around the room, Spy gave a nod. “Good. Now, that means that Scout, Pyro, Lar-Nah, Bronislava, Sniper and I will be going out in a search party. Correct?”

When everyone had agreed, the meeting was adjourned for mission preparation. However, Spy approached Engineer shortly after the others had dispersed.

“How’s your father?” Spy wanted to know.

“Oh— um…” Engineer scratched the back of his head. “He’s settling in. He won’t call my ma, though…”

“I see,” Spy sighed, looking away. “Well…give him some time. I’m sure this must have been quite an unnerving experience for him.”

Engineer just watched Spy for a moment, before glancing away. “…yeah. You’re gonna go off on that search party, then?”

“Oui,” Spy confirmed. “But I need to let Angelica know, and perhaps I can talk her into going to a safer location.”

“Yeah…maybe I’ll get my pa to do the same,” Engineer looked back up at Spy. “Wouldn't want another incident.”

“I understand,” Spy gave a curt nod. There was a slight pause, before Spy turned and left the room without another word.

At the same time, Bea had managed to drag Lazarus to a phone booth that was deep within town. Bea helped an unnerved Lazarus into the phone booth so he could call for help for his broken arm, going unnoticed by the frantic Teufort citizens who couldn't find their mayor.

“You sure you don’t want to just go to the hospital?” Bea watched as Lazarus meticulously entered the numbers with one hand while the other hung limp by his side.

“No!” Lazarus barked through gritted teeth. “I have to call my team…they’ll patch me up, I trust them way more than I trust any hospital in this godforsaken town!”

Lazarus held the receiver between his good shoulder and his ear, waiting for one of his teammates to answer. When they finally did, he said, “It’s me! I need you to send someone to come get me, I had a fight with a demon and it broke my arm!”

Bea raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing as Lazarus made arrangements for his team to pick him up. He ended the call by saying, “Thank you, and afterwards we’ll put those bastards in their place!”

As Bea helped him hang up the phone, Lazarus grunted, “They’re on their way.”

“How long will it take for them to get here?” Bea wanted to know, opening up the door to the phone booth and beginning to step out.

“An hour, roughly.” Lazarus walked over to a park bench nearby and sat down, grimacing when the movement jostled his arm. “Ugh— our base is quite a ways away from here…”

“An hour?” Bea repeated, alarmed. “Are you sure we can’t just stop in the hospital?”

“No! It’s too risky!” Lazarus snapped. There was a pause, before he sighed. "We already have doctors on my team. I'm sure someone will look at me once we get there," he said, looking up at Bea. “I assume you’re going with me?”

“Oh— all right, sure,” Bea nodded. She thought for a moment, and then asked, “What is it your team…does, exactly? I assume you deal with the paranormal, but…”

“Yes, that is what we do,” Lazarus affirmed. “We investigate supernatural happenings and put a stop to them. We maintain the natural order of the world by keeping magic of all types in its place.”

Bea took this in for a moment. “This includes demons?”

Lazarus nodded again. “Of course it does — demons possess a form of dark magic! It has no place in this world…or at least, it shouldn’t. Magic and science need to be kept from each other, they cannot share a space. My team works to ensure this.”

“I see…” Bea thought this over. She vaguely remembered her late mother's stories about demons and magic, as well as the facts she learnt about magic from Zelda. After a moment, she remarked, “Sometimes I think my sister’s magic was what ruined her.”

Lazarus glanced up upon hearing this. “What?”

“I never got magic, but she did,” Bea went on to explain. “When we were homeless kids struggling to survive on the streets, having magic was useful. But after we were adopted…I don’t know. She didn’t use it for a very long time, until I started working for Mann Co. as a mercenary. Then she became incredibly possessive of me, which makes sense given that it was the first time we were separated. She used her magic to go after my team members a few times, threatening to turn them into frogs or seal their mouths shut if she felt they were putting me in danger during missions. I had to stop her and calm her down each and every time. It made me start to distance myself from her.”

“How disturbing!” Lazarus remarked, though he leaned toward, eager to learn more.

Bea sighed. “You could call it that. We had limited contact after that, but she just…she wanted me to come live with her so badly. She always sent me gifts and talked about how much she couldn’t wait to see me again. But recently, everything changed; one of those new mercenaries—specifically, a woman who was with them—killed me. I didn’t know it at the time, but Zelda had been actively spying on me, and she collected my remains. She paid Merasmus, the wizard, to help her reanimate me..." For a brief moment, she glanced down at herself, contemplating everything. “Now we’re back together like before, just like when we were children. This time, it’s all about revenge. It’s all about payback…ironic, considering that was the thing that got me arrested when I was younger. The Administrator would never have learned about me, and Mann Co. would not have hired me as a mercenary if I hadn't been arrested back then.”

Lazarus blinked in curiosity. “You were arrested? For what?”

Bea got very quiet for a moment, before muttering, “That’s not important. But I took the job so I wouldn’t get a heavy prison sentence. That’s all you need to know.”

Lazarus just nodded, and much to Bea’s relief, he did not ask anymore prying questions about her arrest. Instead, he changed the subject. “You have the base’s address with you, right?”

Bea gave a nod. “I do.”

“When my team arrives,” Lazarus went on. “Will you show it to them as well? Then you can join them in rescuing your sister and getting your revenge.”

Bea considered the prospect. Outside of what she had just learned from Lazarus, she had no idea who these people were, but...having a team again felt too ideal to pass up. She inhaled deeply, and then gave a nod. “I will. Thank you.”

“No…thank you,” Lazarus managed to smile, his arm still laying limp on his lap.

At that same moment, Medic was busy looking over Zhanna. As he did so, Sonya hovered nearby, watching anxiously.

“Well?” Sonya asked after a moment. “What is wrong with her?”

“There’s a very good chance it might just be a false alarm,” Medic concluded after a moment. “But just to make sure, she should be kept on bed rest!”

“I am fine,” Zhanna insisted, not enjoying being treated as though she were fragile.

Heavy placed his palm on his sister’s shoulder. “You must relax, sister. We tell you this so much,”

Just then, Bronislava stepped in, her supply bag slung over her shoulder. “How is Zhanna?”

Zhanna waved her prosthetic hand, beckoning her sister. “I am fine! Are you leaving?”

Bronislava stepped over, putting her arms around Zhanna and hugging her. “Soon, I must wait for everyone, first…”

Sonya pulled her two daughters into her arms, holding them tightly. “You must both stay safe…”

“We will!” Zhanna insisted. “It will all be fine, Mama.”

As he stood by his mother and sisters, comforting them as best he could, Heavy noticed Medic leaning over something on the nearby desk. Curious, he made his way over there to see what it was.

“Doktor?” Heavy asked, getting Medic’s attention. “What is it?”

“Oh,” Medic cleared his throat, gesturing to a stack of papers. “These are copies that Merasmus made for me, from his books about The Corrupt. I’ve been skimming through the text to see what I can learn!”

Heavy grunted. “I see. Does not matter. We will not let these creatures attack us,”

“Yes, yes, but…” Medic leaned against the desk, folding his arms. “I’ve learned something incredibly fascinating — The Corrupt is actually not an ancient entity, as I suspected it was!”

Heavy raised an eyebrow. “And what this mean?”

“It’s a fairly recent creature, by demon standards,” Medic went on to clarify. “See, according to these texts, there weren’t sightings of this particular entity until after the year 1800! After this, The Corrupt was apparently discovered by hypnotherapists who said their clients would have visions of it! It’s all very curious, isn’t it?”

“Hm…let me see,” Heavy reached for one of the papers, looking it over. As he did so, Medic continued talking.

“At some point, I’d like to get over there and study this creature! Or…creatures. They seem to be multiple beings that share one mind! Merasmus claims that these beings were previously people who were taken over by this singular consciousness. Wouldn't it be fascinating to research something like this?”

Heavy lowered the paper and shook his head. “Doktor, you must not. It is too dangerous!”

“Oh, I only would poke around for a bit!” Medic waved him off. “Besides, I do not mean doing it now! After we've sorted everything, I want to look at the beast and see what kind of control it has. There is no risk there, in my opinion!”

“I do not know…” Heavy confessed, turning to look back at his family.

Further down the hallway, Angelica stood by the sink and rinsed out a mug she’d been using. As she did so, Scout came up behind her and placed his hand on her back.

“Ma,” he announced, getting her attention. “We’re gonna go soon.”

Angelica set the mug on the counter, concerned. “Oh? Go where?”

Spy entered the kitchen, explaining, "Jeremy and I are going on a mission to find out where the enemy is. We don’t know when we will be back,”

“Another mission?” Angelica tilted her head. “But you guys just came back from one!”

“I know,” Scout tried to reassure her. “There’s just so much happenin’! You get that, right?”

“I know, but…” Angelica faltered a little, sweeping a lock of hair out of her face.

Spy took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over it. “I understand we haven’t gotten to spend too much time together, but we just need to sort this out, all right? On top of that, we’re considering sending you and the other civilians here off to a hotel for safety reasons.”

Angelica glanced back up. “A hotel? Why?”

“There’s a chance of this place being attacked,” Spy explained. “We cannot risk any of you being hurt in the process. You understand, don’t you?”

Angelica looked at her lover, and then she looked at her son, saying nothing. Finally, she took a long breath. “No. I…I wanna come with you.”

Scout and Spy exchanged glances for a brief moment, before Scout spoke. “Ma, no, you can’t!”

“Look, Jer,” Angelica reached out, tucking her finger beneath Scout’s chin. “This whole time, I’ve been here worried sick about you two, watching everything happen, and…god, I’m sick of it! I wanna be with you guys — I don’t care if we’re hunting bad guys, I just wanna be with both of you!”

Spy shook his head, taking her hands back into his own again. “You’re a civilian, we cannot allow that!”

“What about Sonya’s daughters?” Angelica pointed out. “They ain’t part of the company, and they were just on a mission with all of you!”

“That’s different,” Spy tried to explain. “They’re filling in for Zhanna. On top of that, they have fighting experience,”

“So do I!” Angelica insisted. “What, you don’t think living in Boston all those years and having to fight my way out of those streets doesn’t count?”

“Good point,” Scout pointed out.

Spy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Angelica…I don’t think its a good idea…”

“Why?” Angelica asked again, arms folded as she stepped closer to Spy. “Hon, I ain’t gonna be any trouble. I promise!”

“I’m not worried about you being the trouble!” Spy snapped suddenly. He paused, and then sighed. “I’m…more concerned about the trouble targeting you…”

Angelica watched Spy’s expression for a long moment, before she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. “We’ve been apart for too long, baby. I know you’re worried, but I’m tougher than you think. Please, just…let me be part of this too.”

Scout nudged Spy, grunting, “C’mon, let her come with us if she promises to never call you ‘baby’ in front of me again,”

Spy couldn’t stop the little snort that left him, and he looked back up at Angelica, his face softened somewhat. “All right…” he sighed. “But don’t blame me if the Administrator loses her temper with me for this!”

Angelica waved him off, following him and Scout out of the kitchen. “Oh, I’ll sweet-talk her, don’t worry!”

[ravynfyre]

I had someone ping me recently for dog advice since I “had done the SAR K9 thing”, so that apparently meant I knew what I was doing. Now, first, let me preface this with the fact that I do NOT consider myself a “dog trainer”. I do not take clients, although I do respond to requests for ideas, advice, or help. Also, when it comes to working dogs, especially, no trainer/handler works in a vacuum; we don’t train our dogs alone, and we *need* the help of our teams and assistants to help us get it all right.

That all being said, this person wanted to know what they could do to help make their adopted rescue dog “mellow out”. This is something that is actually a bit near and dear to my heart right now because of one of my own dogs, so I thought I would share this with more folks than just them.

I’ll start by sharing the general Rule Of Threes: When you bring a new dog into your home, it usually takes a minimum of 3 days of feeling overwhelmed and nervous. 3 weeks of settling in. 3 months of building trust and bonding with you. Please note that “minimum” there. Also, this, like MOST animal training, is just a generalization. Individual results WILL vary. These guidelines are based on a “normal” dog with no significant traumas or behavioral issues. That’s something that’s, quite frankly, in short supply in the rescue world. Generally, though, you HAVE to give the dog at least three months for the dog to show what kind of dog they really are under all the shelter psychosis and fear of abandonment. THEN you might know what you are really dealing with.

However, in the specific case of the person who pinged me for advice, what they were REALLY asking me was why their dog was still so timid and afraid and nervous after half a year of living with them. THIS is where it gets near and dear to my heart because of my own neurotic mess, Diva.

Diva was 8 years old when I received her last December. I lost my last Malinois on December 7th, and it had been more than 20 years since I had NOT had a maligator in my house… I didn’t like that. It was too quiet, and I was too traumatized myself by losing my Pyro to take comfort from the rest of my hounds, no matter how hard they tried. TWO different groups of friends knew I’d be like this, hence how I ultimately ended up with TWO new maligators by the end of last December, but that’s another story.

Diva was a “senior” that was coming from a rescue in Florida, who had been seized in a neglect case in Tennessee a couple months previous. She was 8 years old, and had spent at least 7 of those years left in a back yard with little to no interaction, no socialization, no training, and no attention. She was malnourished and just a mess when the first rescue pulled her, and she was NOT adjusting to life in a noisy humane society shelter at ALL, so another rescue pulled her from *there*, and tried their best to find her a home before she completely shut down or went nuts. The call went out, a friend saw the call desperately looking for a Christmas miracle for Diva, who wasn’t doing much better in the new rescue, either, and that friend put me in contact with the local rescue that worked with the Florida rescue so that I could see if I could be what Diva needed. They were so desperate to get her out of the shelter and into a home, that I was approved the same day I contacted them, my fees were covered by an “angel fund”, no one bothered contacting *any* of my references or my vet, and she was added to a senior dog transport from that shelter to a place about an hour from me for two days from my phone call. That’s NOT normally how things are done with this rescue, and I can only assume that my qualifications of 20 years of Malinois experience and my former job as a K9 handler with FEMA were the factors that, combined with how badly Diva was doing in the shelter, pushed them to approve the adoption in such a rushed manner.

Diva… is a mess. She is as timid as a mouse in a cattery, spooks at the tiniest of sounds… hell, she’ll spook if a LIGHT is turned on that she isn’t expecting. She does not trust people, she tolerates the presence of other dogs, as long as they stay away from her kennel or food, she was incredibly predatory and wanted to hunt and eat the cats… you cannot raise your voice around her, and if other dogs bark, or even if something as innocuous as my phone rings, she’s sure it’s the end of the world. She’s just a nervous mess, and wouldn’t even take treats or human food tidbits - not from the ground, and *especially* not from human hands - for *weeks*. I knew that it would take a LOT of hard work to build up her confidence and nerve strength, and it has been. She will take treats now - loves them in fact, and watch your fingers because she *will* take them off if you aren’t paying attention (not out of meanness, just out of eagerness).

She, however, still slinks around the house like she’s convinced she isn’t supposed to be there. She only feels safe when she’s in her crate. She feels *some* safety when she’s pressed up against me, but even now, a full year later, there is STILL that concern, that *fear*, that maybe I can’t be trusted this time, and maybe this time, I’ll beat her if she comes to me, even if I’m calling her to me.

Especially if I am calling her to me.

When something spooks her, she goes to her crate, and I have to coax her out to reassure her. I still cannot raise my voice - even not at her, but at one of the other animals on the farm, or at the screen, or on a phone call! - without her assuming that it means she’s about to be beaten. She *craves* affection, but she’s terrified of it. It’s very frustrating and sad, and I wish I could find the people who did this to her and “do unto them” a bit, if you catch my drift.

However, she HAS come a long way from where she was. The cats are no longer prey, she will push in with the other dogs when going in or out, she’s brave enough to beg for food or treats, she’s gained the confidence to bark when she’s concerned or excited, and she *will* leave her crate when coaxed. There’s been dozens, *hundreds* of tiny milestones of improvements in the last few months alone that shows me how far she has come…

But she will NEVER be a “normal” dog. She will NEVER enjoy strangers, she will never enjoy car rides for ice cream, she will never enjoy the chaos of a woods walk with the pack, she will never enjoy the fun of a good loud romp inside or out, she will never be a full time cuddle dog.

Full body contact is nerve wracking for her. Change is nerve wracking for her. Loud noises and chaos are nerve wracking for her. She needs quiet and predictability and a place to withdraw. She is *nothing* at all like my other maligator, Rajah, who is a whirling dervish of energy, chaos, drive, and hasn’t a single functional brain cell in the rock that I call her skull. Diva is a thinker, because she is always looking for and trying to figure out the next thing that will/could hurt her. That is who she is, and that will never completely go away.

And that brings us to the person who pinged me - their dog isn’t nearly as bad, but shows a lot of the same base behaviors, just dialed down to about a tenth of Diva’s intensity. This person was frustrated that it’s been half a year and the dog still flinches. The dog still cowers a bit. The dog isn’t bouncy and excited. The dog has to be coaxed. They are frustrated because, “shouldn’t the dog have seen by now that I’m harmless?!”

Shouldn’t that lazy ass, irresponsible person with ADHD know how to manage their life so that they are never late and always focused and don’t need any assistance or concessions?

90% of Diva’s life, of the other dog’s life, have instilled in them certain characteristics. A *young* dog like my friend’s dog has a chance of learning new behaviors, of expanding their base personality, of GROWING… EVENTUALLY. If Diva lives to be 20? *maybe* she will eventually come out of her shell and be a bouncier, happier dog. Probably within a year or so of her death, maybe. But she’s 9 now, and realistically speaking, her entire life has shown her than life is painful and no one can be trusted. A single year is NOT enough to “fix” that. In truth, it will NEVER be “fixed”, only managed. It’s actually quite rare to “fix” a behavior in an animal… what most folks are actually doing is MANAGING the behavior to make it more predictable, and to be able to mitigate the results when the behavior comes out again.

You can’t take a truly “Type A” personality and make them relax and eliminate every “Type A” trait. You can’t “fix” ADHD, or Autism. You *manage* those traits to make it easier to navigate the world around them. They don’t just go away, no matter how medicated, how “mindful”, how “counseled” the person is. Those traits and behaviors will always be a part of that person, and a lot of therapy is about finding ways to mitigate the effects or structure life to work around those traits and behaviors.

Diva will never be a working dog: she doesn’t have the nerves or courage for it. (Rajah will never be a working dog either: she doesn’t have the focus for it.) My friend’s dog will never be a Lassie or a Rin Tin Tin, or even a Marley or a Hachi or a Toto or a Beethoven. My friend’s dog is going to be a Courage, maybe, just less self-sacrificing. Diva will always be a mess.

But she’s MY mess, and I will make this the safest, most loving home I can for her, no matter how sad and frustrating it is to know that she’s still as scared of mine as she is.

There’s so many behaviors and traits humans try to eliminate in our dogs that they just don’t understand - One: you canNOT ever truly ELIMINATE a behavior. You can *suppress* it, but that behavior is still there, and it WILL come out when the stimulus overwhelms the suppression… and Two: some behaviors, no matter how irritating, are there as a SAFETY MECHANISM. Example: growling. Punishing a dog for growling is like taking the batteries out of your smoke detector. A growl is a warning that something is wrong and the situation needs to be corrected. THE SITUATION needs to be corrected, NOT THE DOG. Because if you remove the WARNING, then the dog will skip to the next level - the BITE.

Most dogs really do not want to bite. That initiates a conflict that can cause them egregious bodily harm or death. They would rather WARN something away rather than attack it away. But if you take away the warning, the attack is the next step. And you canNOT remove the attack - full stop. All dogs have teeth. All dogs bite. It’s just a matter of pushing the dog past the threshold of being willing to do so. Some dogs have a very very LOW threshold. Some have an incredibly HIGH one. There is no such thing as a dog that has a wall rather than a threshold - nature weeded those dogs out centuries ago, because a dog completely unwilling to defend itself… well, it dies before it can breed. That’s nature. Part of the domestication process is breeding dogs with higher and higher thresholds… but we can never truly wall it off again.

So we train to MANAGE the behaviors we have bred and trained into our dogs, but folks need to understand that, like Pandora’s box, once that box opens and that behavior escapes… you can’t stuff it back in the box and make it go away. It’s there. And now it is up to us, the thinking, reasoning beings who can make the abstract leaps of logic, to figure out ways to make the world easier for that dog to survive in it, and to teach the dog coping mechanisms to mitigate those undesirable behaviors. Sometimes, suppression is good enough. Sometimes, you just have to be content that your dog is never going to be the one to “get Bin Laden”, and you need to be happy that they don’t run screaming for the hills when you throw them a piece of popcorn. And if they DO run screaming this week, you have to be okay knowing that it may be another month, or another six month, before they’re able to stand their ground for that piece of popcorn.

And if you find yourself incapable of doing that, of being willing to put in the work and be patient, then you need to find that dog someone who is.

[flokali]

The devil and the magician for rem/vita diluc?

Omg Diluc… the love of my life, ofc hehe >_<)) I added in Justice just because I like odd numbers hope you don’t mind nonnie!

CW: Typical Yan-Warnings, yandere themes, SAGAU, Rem/Vita AU, mentions of murder, religion, sacrifices, kidnapping, cult-like behavior, abuse of power, Lore Spoilers, etc.

♦︎ Diluc (The Devil, The Magician, Justice) ♦︎

— The Devil : What taboo things would this yandere do to their darling?

Many, many things. Diluc, in this case, is an acolyte; a mere follower, a devotee to the religion that worshiped you. One may even call him, as well as his fellow believers, fanatical. 

Due to this fact, he mainly acts the way a fanatic would - at least, when it comes to you. He views you as the deity above all, therefore - if he’s doing it for you it can’t be taboo and, if it is, it’s justified.

This is what he’ll say to himself as he tramples over the lives of people he has deemed unworthy of you, using his connections around not just Mondo but all of Teyvat to drive them into, hopefully, death’s door. It’s what he reminds himself as he performs a sacrifice in your name, a sacrificial knife in his hands as he carves out the person’s heart and proudly holds it over his head in devotion to you. He’s kidnapped, killed, and ruined lives in your name, Diluc has truly soiled his hands to the point you wonder if the red in them are gloves or the blood he’s spilt in your name.

And he does all that without being told - without you being directly there -, so imagine what he’d be willing to do if you were in his arms.

…

— The Magician : How would this yandere use their abilities/status on their darling?

Whether it’s intentional or not you decide - though I lean towards him knowing his actions are mainly allowed due to his power -, however there’s no denying he does.

As the owner of half of Mondstatd’s winery businesses (which coincidentally is also the city's most well known and profitable product), he isn’t afraid to move circumstances to his favor - non-AU yan. Diluc wouldn’t do this, probably - with money and vaguely covered threats. He’s already financed most of your arrivement preparations, not to mention much of the equipment to bring you over, so it’s only natural he takes priority over the less… helpful individuals.

Diluc is also not afraid to remind people that Dawn’s Winery is probably the safest place for you to be in, at least in Mondstatd, not just because it’s secluded enough enemies will have hard time passing by or the fact it’s now filled with former-knights and powerful acolytes he has recruited into guarding the establishment but also because he, Diluc, is there. He travelled through Teyvat killing Fatui, making himself enough of a threat that two harbinger’s had to fight him at the same time to stop him from continuing to kill their agents, and presumably other enemies by himself between his late teen years and early twenties without his Pyro Vision instead using a Delusion that normally could have killed others using it. The worst part is, he’s right; by his side is probably the safest you could be.

So yes - he would use his status, he isn’t afraid to use the Raginvindr name or power nor his own reputation and strength to be beside you. 

…

— Justice : Does this yandere ever feel conflicted about what they’re doing?

In a normal AU, yes; however, here? No, there is no reason for him to feel conflicted. Not when everyone around him would do the same things as him in your name, some even doing worse, and encourage his actions, even praising his devotion.

The Cult of Rem is a highly fanatical cult, it believes that you are the result of the people’s needs incarnated and that it’s their job to serve you, if this includes killing people then it’s only natural. They’ve taken an incredibly dangerous route to their beliefs, to the point extreme actions to the sinful or non-believers is seen as logical and even necessary.

He’s surrounded by people who think the same way he does, that you and your comfort is above all else and that there is no sinful action of done for you or in your name, therefore there is no guilt to be had when he’s always been in an environment that has actively allowed for such things to occur and even praises such actions.

If anything, I’d say he would feel guilty if he didn’t.

[husbandohunter]

Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

[blzzrdstryr]

Midnight chatter

Yandere Diluc x gn!knight!reader

Wordcount: 2385

CW: Yandere, drugging, kidnapping

This was a third week after his return and fifth day of the tireless fight with winery work, when Diluc received an unexpected guest. During his travels across the world, the winery business fell into disrepair and almost collapsed, so once he learnt the state of the wine industry he decided to settle in his office and try to battle the endless reports about necessary expenses and small profits all on his own.

He started to work with the first rays of sunlight well into the night, squeezing every bit of energy his body had, not only because financial issues could affect him personally, but also because of the night vigilante of Mondstadt title he took upon himself.Due to the increased workload he couldn’t find time to patrol the dark streets and alleys of the city, while experience and conscience didn’t allow him to thrust the safety of ordinary citizens into the hands of bumbling, cowardly and lazy knights.

The day soon turned into the late evening, and dawn winery workers started to go home, when someone knocked on his door. It was Adelinde.

Her steps were faster than usual, her stoic face shadowed by the note of concern. Diluc wanted to say that no, he won’t go and have a rest, but she spoke first.

“Master Diluc”, she stopped before his desk: “we have a guest, a knight”.

He lifted his head shifting the eyes from the report to the head maid and pondered - despite his long absence, a lot of people in the city had a general idea how much he dislikes the Favonius Order and so a rare knight would actually dare to bother him, unless… Unless, they were acting out an order from someone high-ranking, like Jean or Varka for example.

Apprehension that his former colleague somehow learned of his nightly escapades sent an unexpected wave of shivers and vague feeling of unease, but he didn’t let it get to him.

“Ask why this knight is here and if it’s something unofficial tell them to leave”, he ordered, at which Adelinde blinked, slowly and tiredly, as if she was looking for the strength to tell something incredibly upsetting or scary.

“The thing is, master Diluc, that I already let them in”.

“Without my permission?”, his eyes widened at that, and the heart started to pick up the pace. What if this knight was really sent here by Varka or Jean? If it was true, Adelinde, unknowingly set him up to fail.

She was looking after him from his earliest childhood, so she was allowed to do and say more than any other of his staff, yet this perceived audacity was unheard of before.

“They were badly injured and said that they needed to stop for the night and once it’s over they will travel to the city with the first sun rays. We helped them to patch up their injuries and offered a room for guests, yet they declined and remained to sit on sofa”, the maid explained absolutely unfazed, after noticing Diluc’s dissatisfaction and then added : “If you are that displeased, master Diluc, I can tell this tired and battered knight to get out from here into the dark night”.

Her voice remained even and emotionless as usual, but even like that young Ragnvindr could hear a light mocking in her words. And to think about it - he got so freaked out over some silly coincidence - the knight stopped here because of the injuries, not some insidious scheme.

“Alright”, Diluc admitted defeat: “they can stay… and offer them some food and tea”, he added just as Adelinde’s hand touched the doorknob.

“Will be done”, she replied before exiting the office. The corners of her mouth slightly moved and crept upwards.

***

Despite his earlier goal of finishing as much work as he can, Diluc couldn’t do anything. Small digits and letters started to float and dance before his eyes while the long lines fused together, when he tried to analyze the state of wine business in naught. But the worst thing was the fact that his thoughts strayed to the topic of mystery knight again and again and Diluc lost count how many times he caught himself thinking who this person is.

He sat like that for a while, until the cinnabar of dying sky got replaced by the darkness and pleasant chill of the night.

Diluc scolded himself for his uncharacteristic indecisiveness, standing up from the desk and locking the office, when this thought, loud and persisting, knocked into his head again. Wouldn’t it be nice, he wondered, to learn who this night is, and finally decided. After all the thoughts about them pestered him for a long time.

Quietly and carefully walking through the unlit corridor of the winery, he confirmed that all servants and workers had already left for sleep, some into the rooms of the main building designated for them, some into the cabins around it. All in all, he was confident that there’s no one except him, the knight, Adelinde and a couple of other maids.

His steps were quiet and slow and not even a single board in the wooden floor creaked under his weight as he knew the winery like the back of his hand. With a bated breath he made his way downstairs, making out vague shapes of the familiar objects. Moonlight pouring out through the windows illuminated only the silhouettes, but even with that he quickly noticed the unknown frame.

The person was half-sitting half-lying on the sofa, and their sword and armor were placed nearby the furniture, reflecting the pale light of the moon. They weren’t moving, seemingly asleep. Diluc couldn’t make out their face even after making a coming closer, so he decided to take the risk and summoned a small wisp of flame.

The dancing light illuminated everything in a small radius and what he saw made him jolt and take a step back. You were the mystery knight.

Why are you still a knight? Where were you? Who injured you?

Still shocked by the previous revelation, Diluc accidentally knocked over the breastplate with his foot and it fell on it’s side with a loud thump.

You woke up.

“What… Who?”, you stirred and half sat on the elbow: “Ah, it’s you” and saw him :”What are you doing here?”.

Caught red handed, Diluc didn’t find any words - it was so sudden and unusual to be caught unaware, and because of that doubly unpleasant.

“This is my winery and I am free to do whatever I want”, he decided to hide the awkwardness behind the faux annoyance.

“Easy, easy” you half smiled, half yawned: “I just managed to fall asleep”. You yawned again and blinked at him with sleepy tired eyes.

“I have sleep medicine if you want some”

You got surprised and touched by his sudden responsiveness: “Thank you, but I think painkillers would be better. My body is aching and that’s the main problem”.

Maybe because of the trembling, dancing light or maybe because of the recent sleep you imagined worry and pity twisting his facial features.

“I have it too. Wait here”, he quickly replied and vanished into the dim darkness of the winery, not giving you any time to answer, as you were left to sit and wait for him. Diluc, to your own surprise, happened to be extremely stealthy, able to move without producing a single sound.

“Here”, you first heard and then saw him,as Diluc used pyro vision to light the nearby candlestick and then opened the medicine vial he brought and handed it to you: “Drink it all”.

“Thank you”, you whispered to him, taking the painkiller before making a big gulp. The taste was horrible, so horrible in fact that you almost immediately started to violently cough. Well, if it’s as effective as foul, then I will be good as new in no time, you thought to yourself, suppressing the urge to throw up.

Diluc stood nearby and observed your reaction, his hand extended on his own when the coughing started as he awkwardly tried to pat your back in the gesture of comfort. “I will be here with you until you fall asleep”, he stated once the fit stopped and then, seeing your highly raised brows explained further: “Painkiller takes time to work. Tell me if you won’t feel better”.

You nodded in response, and closed eyes, listening to the sensations of your body. Your injuries still burned and screamed and throbbed, yet a strange numb sensation started to slowly surround you. Just like Diluc said, medicine would need time to fully settle in.

“If you're here can you talk with me?”, you decided to shorten the time in conversation: “Ijust wanted to talk with you. For a really long time”.

“About what?”, he allowed himself a shadow of the smile, Diluc that you used to know peeking through the gloomy facade, like a long awaited sun or it’s reflection on the tranquil mirror of the water surface. Next words stuck in your throat, bitter and acidic and totally unfit, and you had to force them out through your own hesitance to destroy this calm.

“What happened that day? The day before you left. I asked Jean and Kaeya and other knights who were present with you, yet no one said anything”, the water surface bubbled and the visage of that old, sunny Ragnvindr shattered into thousand pieces. The person before you adopted the same cold facade of annoyance and indifference.

“Why do you need to know it?”, he answered the question with another question and you sensed barely buried hurt and grief.

“You leaving hurt. A lot”

“That’s why you are still a knight?”, you quickly nodded at that.

A minute passed by and he still stood, without saying a single word, thinking what to do. On one hand, he didn;t want to open up, the story of his eighteenth birthday was incredibly painful and personal experience to be shared so freely, on the other hand he yearned for your understanding.

"Alright", he broke the silence:"Let's make a deal, you answer my questions and I'll tell you the whole story after. Deal?"

"Deal".

Diluc looked at you again, looked at the bruises and cuts, still peeking through the bandages and for a second his mind lit up with one thought alone: what disgusting bastard did that to you. He suppressed the rapidly rising rage, deciding to start from the most important.

"Is my leave the only reason why you decided to stay?" his heart picks up the pace again, he needs to know the answer.

"Basically yes, you knownI didn’t do it for my parents… I just.. That tragedy, I know it's not my place, but… I always wanted what happened to you. I asked this question to myself everyday and night, and I missed you terribly".

His breath hitched and he lowered his gaze. For some reason you always managed to fluster him with the words alone, even if it wasn't your intention.

"Your parents must be happy", h e changed the topic, stifling the heat in his heart.

"Yeah, they're ecstatic that I stopped being difficult and made their aspirations real. Hm, do you have any other questions?"

"What happened to you? ",he pointed at the bandages covering most of your body.

"Ah, catching treasure hoarders does that to you, usual stuff", you dismissed his concerns and Diluc started seeing red from the way your voice remained so calm and unbothered. Usual stuff? Usual stuff?!

"Grandmaster could send anyone else", he snapped:"Favonius Order has more than plenty of vision holders, they should've sent one, instead of you! You could die!".

Diluc’s sudden explosion left you speechless, but soon your own weaved words of irritation:"Ordo Favonius doesn't consist of Jean and Kaeya only. We can't let them handle all the hard and dangerous business all the time. Ordinary people like me can still help, even if the gods didn’t favour us. Don't think of me as some helpless idiot just because I have no shiny vision to show off"

Your heated response seemed to work and Diluc turned red from embarrassment, realizing how annoyed you got, despite the worry for your health and still present anger at the other knights for letting you get hurt. He also didn’t like how you looked at him, reprimanding and disappointed.

"Alright, sorry", he cleared his throat:"where were you before? I haven't seen you anywhere"

"City gates aren't the only thing that needs guarding. I was sent to the Liyue border, to make sure that no treasure gang crosses it. I think I will get sent there again, once I fully recover".

Diluc got angry at that too, yet this time he suppressed unpleasant feelings, already knowing how you will rebuke and reprimand him again. There's no convincing to be done, as you won't change your opinion. You left him no choice for what he was going to do.

"Alright, you answered all my questions", he said before changing topic again:"Did painkillers start working? I have another".

Being so engrossed in the conversation you forgot about the ache, yet once he mentioned it your body started to hurt with a renewed strength.

"Yes, I would like one", you decided and Diluc vanished in the unlit hall yet again.

"Here", he handed the small bottle to you already opened. The new substance was different, sweet and viscous. You managed to take two sips before your eyelids started to feel up with lead, and soon even lifting a hand seemed like a highly arduous task. Whatever the thing that Diluc gave you wasn't a painkiller.

"What…", you uttered, before your body relaxed and you fell asleep once again. Diluc bent over, looming over your unconscious form, as his hands carefully took the bottle away. He didn’t want it to somehow fall and injure you

This is a necessary measure, Diluc assured himself, before making a plan of actions. He would need to fake your disappearance and forge enough leads to direct investigation into the completely opposite direction, but now he needed to wake Adelinde up and ask her to prepare the room in the basement. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable in your new home.