#and had to survive to return back……..

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 9

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“You know, to be honest... no,” you said, your voice steady, cold.

Ian’s eyes lit up with delight, misinterpreting your words at first. But his expression quickly faded as you added, “I don’t trust you either.”

Ian hadn’t expected that. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he was at a loss. He had been so sure of his position, of where he stood with you, that hearing your blunt confession shook him. Was this the same woman he had once admired? The one who had fought alongside him, standing up to injustice?

“I don’t trust anyone right now,” you continued, your voice low, carrying the weight of the burden you’ve been shouldering.

Ian’s lips tightened as he looked at you, searching for the person he thought he knew. “So you choose to stay with him.” The way he said it was both an accusation and a plea.

“It’s... complicated,” you replied, your voice wavering for the first time. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just about survival—it was about winning. About showing Caroline and everyone else that you could rise above it all. The desire to shove your victory in their faces burned more intensely than your desire to leave.

Ian shook his head, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I’m disappointed in you. This isn’t the friend I knew. The person who fought for the truth, the person I admired and...” He stopped himself. He didn’t need to say it, but you knew what came next—'the person I liked.'

“Ian...” you started, feeling the sting of his words, but before you could say more, the mood shifted sharply. People suddenly began flooding back into the café as though nothing unusual had happened. You exchanged a confused look with Ian, his surprise mirroring your own.

Tim’s cheerful voice cut through the confusion. “You had your coffee?” He waved, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Your eyes darted to Bucky, who was standing behind Tim, his presence dominating the space. Flanked by bodyguards, he stepped into the café like he owned the place. For a moment, you felt a strange sense of relief seeing him, though you knew better than to fully trust that feeling.

“Ian! What's up!” Tim added, offering a friendly wave, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

You quickly grabbed your coffee cup, walking toward Bucky and whispering, “I want to go.”

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Ian as he responded, “Go with Tim.” His voice was sharp, calculating. Something was off, and he knew it. The uneasy feeling had only grown when Tim mentioned that you hadn’t returned from the café. That’s why he had come—to check on you.

You nodded, quickly moving to push Tim’s wheelchair, eager to escape the thick tension in the air. The moment you stepped outside, you felt the weight lift, but the knot in your stomach remained.

Now, it was just Bucky and Ian. The tension between them could cut through glass.

Bucky’s eyes stayed cold, his expression unreadable, but his voice was smooth, measured. “I understand you hate my family,” he said, folding his arms. “I’m not here to defend what my brother did. There are no excuses for his actions. But you should know...” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “You don’t get to play God with this situation.”

Ian stared at Bucky, his jaw clenched. “Your brother ruined lives. And you let him walk free until it was convenient for you to throw him under the bus.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, calculating smile. “Let’s not pretend this is about justice, Ian. This is about revenge. Your brother was a tragedy, yes, but don’t stand there and act like your motives are pure.”

Ian leaned forward, his anger barely contained. “Maybe it is about revenge. But at least I’m not hiding behind the lie that this is all some grand scheme for the greater good. You sacrifice people for your ambition. You use them. Shawn. Me. Her.”

“But,” Bucky raised a single finger, his voice low but sharp, “you forget one thing. You can’t sue my family because the family that adopted your twin has already reached a settlement with us.”

Ian’s jaw tightened. “Money can’t replace my brother.”

Bucky gave a slow, measured nod. “That’s right. But the case is closed.” His voice was almost casual, like they were discussing a simple transaction.

“Do you really want to bring it up again and humiliate the adopted family that raised your twin? That couple is enjoying their pension life.” Bucky pulled out a photo, holding it up with a smirk. “Look, both of them are on a cruise. Carefree.”

Ian’s hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with anger.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “You’re trying to bring me down, Ian. But let’s be honest. We’re in different leagues.”

Ian’s voice was cold, filled with contempt. “Different leagues?” He took a step forward, not backing down. “You think power makes you untouchable, but everyone falls eventually, Bucky. Even you. The difference is, when you fall, it’ll be a lot harder than it was for your brother.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You talk big for a man with no cards to play.”

Then, in a swift motion, Bucky snapped his fingers, calling the barista over. “You,” Bucky said, his gaze locking onto the young man behind the counter, “what did he offer you to get involved in this?”

The barista froze, wide-eyed and clearly caught off guard. His eyes flicked between Ian, who glared at him with barely restrained fury, and Bucky, whose calm voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“He—he knows I’m dealing drugs on campus,” the barista stammered, fear creeping into his voice. “I’m afraid if it gets out, I’ll be expelled from university.”

Bucky’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of distaste crossing his face. “Drugs, huh? That’s a big no in my book.” He paused, letting the tension build before adding, “But… what if I make sure no one ever hears about your little side job?”

The barista blinked in disbelief. “Really?”

Bucky nodded slowly, his tone almost fatherly. “As long as you do one thing for me—never let this man,” he gestured to Ian with a lazy flick of his hand, “step foot in this café again.”

“Done,” the barista replied quickly, relief flooding his face. “And, uh, you’ve got my vote too.”

Bucky smiled, shaking the young man’s hand. “Thank you.”

Turning back to Ian, Bucky’s smile turned into a smirk, the satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Did you see that? That’s the difference between us. You blackmail people. I make deals that last.”

Ian’s glare deepened, his voice trembling with anger. “Politicians and journalists have one thing in common: information. You manipulate it, just like you did with this poor kid. It’s no different from what I do.”

Bucky’s laugh was low and amused, as if Ian’s words barely registered. “Oh, there’s a difference.” His eyes gleamed with cold certainty. “I have power. And the information I gather ages like fine wine. It only gets more valuable with time.”

Ian took a step closer, his voice bitter. “Just like the way you’re using her.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as though Ian had made a naive remark. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ian.” He turned his back, walking toward the door without another glance. “This isn’t just about her, or you, or even my brother. This is bigger. But you’ll never see that.”

With that, Bucky exited the café, leaving Ian standing there, fists clenched, seething but helpless.

Outside, the air was crisp, and the low hum of the city wrapped around him like a blanket. Bucky strode to the car, his every step deliberate, his mind already shifting to the next move.

As he reached for the car door, he paused, surprised to see you waiting inside. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “I thought you’d already left.”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “I just finished talking to Tim. Told him not to meet with Ian again.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good.”

You leaned back in the seat, watching him carefully. “What did Ian say?”

Bucky slid into the car, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. He adjusted his cufflinks, his movements slow and meticulous. “He’s angry. Desperate. But that makes him predictable.”

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to feel comforted or wary. “You really think he’ll just back down?”

Bucky turned to you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “People like Ian don’t back down. But they also don’t win.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “He’s playing a dangerous game. But I have the upper hand. Always.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "You're not afraid? Especially since he knows about our messy marriage."

Bucky leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I want to see him try."

"It'll affect the election," you pressed, your voice low but sharp. "Didn’t you say before that you're scared too, if it gets out?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze steady, then leaned forward, folding his hands on the table between you. "What I'm afraid of is how it'll affect you."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response, but he didn’t let you linger in the surprise for long. Bucky straightened his tie, that calm, calculating tone slipping back into place. "Come on," he continued, "nobody cares about the Vice President. Especially when Steve takes office. All eyes will be on him. I’ll be a shadow at best."

His nonchalance irritated you, but you could see the gears turning in his head, every word measured, every sentence layered with meaning. He wasn’t just dismissing Ian’s threat—he was planning around it, strategizing.

But you weren’t convinced. "And what happens when he digs too deep? When he finds something even you can't control?"

Bucky's smirk returned, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous edge. "Let him dig. The deeper he goes, the more he'll realize he's out of his league."

He got up, slipping his hands into his pockets, the image of absolute power and control. "This isn't a game of who's right, sweetheart. It's about who plays the board better."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, Greg arrived early in the morning, pounding on the door without pause. The relentless knocking echoed through the quiet house, pulling you from your sleep.

You opened the door, eyes still heavy with sleep, and found Greg standing there, pale and wide-eyed, clutching a newspaper tightly in his hands.

"What's wrong?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in your stomach.

Greg didn’t say a word, just handed you the newspaper. The bold headline hit you like a punch to the gut:

"SILENT DIVORCE SHOCKS PUBLIC: Y/N LEFT BLINDSIDED BY BARNES' LIES"

“Bucky!” you screamed his name, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Bucky, who was just finishing up in the bathroom, emerged with a calm demeanor, a towel draped over his shoulder. He glanced at you, then at Greg, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on?” he asked, though he clearly already knew.

You pointed at the newspaper, your heart racing. “This... they know everything about the divorce. It’s out there!”

Bucky stepped closer, taking the newspaper from your hand and scanning the article with a level gaze. “I was expecting this,” he said matter-of-factly, unfazed by the revelation.

“Expecting it?” You felt a surge of frustration. “How can you be so calm? They’re painting you as the villain.”

He shrugged slightly, his posture relaxed. “This is Ian’s doing."

Greg shifted awkwardly, glancing between the two of you. “This could seriously damage your campaign, Bucky. We need a plan.”

Bucky nodded slowly, considering. “We turn this around. We don’t deny anything outright, but we frame the narrative. Make it about my commitment to you, how you’ve been resilient in the face of adversity.”

Then, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, Bucky added, “Tell them she’s pregnant.”

You and Greg were dumbfounded, staring at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” you finally managed to ask, incredulity lacing your tone.

Bucky nodded, a small, confident grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. It shifts the narrative entirely. The public will sympathize with you, and it puts me in the role of the protective husband. We can spin this into a story of love and support.”

You shook your head, a sense of unease washing over you. “No, Bucky. I can’t go along with that. I won’t lie about something like that. It’s unethical, and what if they find out?”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” he replied, his voice steady. “Right now, we need to act fast. We can’t let Ian control this narrative any longer.”

Greg looked between the two of you, uncertain. “This is a huge gamble, Bucky. Are you sure you want to push this?”

Bucky waved a hand dismissively. “This is politics, Greg. It’s about perception. If we can manipulate the story in our favor, then we do it.”

“But it’s still a lie,” you insisted, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “I can’t just pretend to be pregnant for your campaign. It’s wrong.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, irritation flickering across his face. “It’s not wrong if it serves a purpose. This is about protecting your future, our future. We can’t let Ian tear us down.”

“By lying?” you shot back, frustration mounting. “That’s not how I want to do things, Bucky.”

He sighed, clearly growing impatient. “Tell them she’s pregnant, Greg. We need to control this narrative. The longer we wait, the more damage Ian can do.”

Greg hesitated, glancing at you for guidance. “Are you sure about this, Y/N? Because once we go down this road, there’s no turning back.”

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on Greg, unyielding. “Just do it. I’ll handle the fallout.”

You felt a wave of dread wash over you. Bucky’s resolve was intimidating, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a path you weren’t willing to take.

“Survival only for you. Not for me,” you shot back, your voice steady but the tension in your shoulders betraying your inner turmoil.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I see you keep changing your mind. Didn’t you forget you wanted us to win?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he reveled in the challenge of bending your resolve.

You felt a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You had dreamed of victory, of standing beside him in triumph, yet this wasn’t the way you envisioned it. The idea of lying about a pregnancy felt like a betrayal, not just to yourself but to everything you believed in.

“Welcome to the game of politics, babe,” Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge, leaning back in his chair as if this were all a mere chess match to him.

His nonchalance only fueled the fire inside you, and you clenched your jaw, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words affected you. “This isn’t a game, Bucky,” you replied, your voice firm, trying to assert your stance amidst the chaos swirling around you.

He shrugged, an air of indifference surrounding him. “To me, it is. And you’d do well to remember that.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he had already won this round, leaving you questioning whether you were truly ready to play his game.

“What, are you still calm? Don’t you worry this will affect Steve?” you asked, your voice laced with incredulity.

He chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I love your innocence in this.”

You felt bewildered, the confusion evident in your furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

“Seems like Steve hides his skeletons better than I do. Even you, a journalist, didn’t know,” Bucky replied, his tone casual but with an underlying intensity.

“What?” you pressed, leaning in closer, eager for clarity.

Bucky leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, a confident smirk playing on his lips. “The other reason why Steve chose me is to distract everyone from him. That’s our deal.”

You blinked, grappling with the implications of his words, feeling the weight of the political game you were both entrenched in.

You swallowed hard, the realization settling heavily in your stomach. He’s right. This is all a game. Every move, every conversation, calculated like chess pieces on a board.

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[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Fate - spin, measure, cut

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

🌙 Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Based on a request by @bat-yo-us 🫶🏻

《Content》: blood, injury, big feelings, Saddler being ew

After a sick twist of Fate, you're tossed into a nightmarish situation with your lover. Vows of protection and safety fall short when you're injured just to save his life.

Please support your creators with likes/comments/reblogs ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A dull, pounding ache sat deep in your bones as you dragged your body further down the path of this hellhole.

You were exhausted, littered in bruises and cuts, and your head was starting to spin from the lack of hydration.

The mission was clear; rescue Baby Eagle and then get out of there as quickly as possible.

Neither you nor Leon had anticipated this to become a matter of days where you'd fight for your life and run from literal nightmares.

The Fates were cruel mistresses, and apparently, they took joy in making you suffer as Ashley was continuously ripped away from right under your nose.

You found her admirable and strong, handling this situation better than you did.

Maybe it was the adrenaline and the survival instinct that kept her going. Whatever it was, you needed a whole dose of it.

You were a medic officer, only sent to take care of any of Ashley's potential injuries on the flight back, not run from Infected, giants, and mutated assholes that wouldn't shut up about their God.

Leon, on the other hand, treated it like just another Tuesday, something that both impressed you and pissed you off beyond belief.

You knew what he'd seen and that this probably was just another Tuesday for him, something that never failed to make your heart ache for him.

But now, under the circumstances, you were forced to pick up a weapon.

You needed to protect yourself. Leon couldn't keep both you and Ashley safe, and no matter how harsh it sounded, she was the important one.

A faint feeling of safety returned when you took the elevator deep into the castle, reaching the Merchant's shooting range.

You slid down the wall and sat on the floor, a sigh of relief slipping past your lips while Leon practiced his aim on the wooden pirates.

You watched him closely, his concentrated expression and slightly narrowed eyes, down to his stance and how the muscles flexed in his bicep.

Maybe you could've enjoyed the sight if your doom wasn't hot on your tail.

It was like the Moirai were watching from above, Atropos sharpening her scissors with a sinister smile while Lachesis measured the string that was your life only to end it in a second whenever they pleased.

The weight of it all lay heavy on your shoulders, a feeling of dread that's been in the pit of your stomach since the beginning, only sinking deeper into your insides.

"It's your turn. Come on." Leon said, holding out his gloved hand to you.

You snapped out of your thoughts with a small 'huh?', your brain needing a second to catch up. He saw the distant and glazed over look in your eyes, and to say it didn't worry him would be a lie.

You weren't made for this.

Hell, neither was he (was anyone?), but he learned to deal with it. But you weren't supposed to see this.

Your job was saving lives, nursing them back to health with a comforting, almost matronly smile on your lips, not take them, no matter how lost or corrupt.

His heart cracked.

He became an Agent to protect innocent people from nightmares like this, yet here you were, the most important aspect of his life, the one that delicately held his heart, subjected to all the horror he tried to shield you from.

"I'll teach you how to use a gun without hurting yourself and to really hurt someone else." He smirked, although it didn't reach his eyes.

You only managed a pathetic laugh but took his hand anyway. Leon pulled you off the ground and led you to the correct position at the shooting range, angling your stance with his hands on your hips.

The simple touch made you want to melt into his arms and forget everything you'd witnessed the last few days.

"Alright," he sighed, his chest pressed to your back while he shoved one of his guns into your hands, "hold it like this, you don't want to hurt your fingers. Now, tighten your muscles, lock your elbows and don't forget about the recoil. And aim, obviously." Leon huffed a half-hearted laugh.

You mumbled a quick affirmation and exhaled, steadying your hands before locking your eyes on the wooden pirate and pulling the trigger.

The sound, along with the recoil, made you flinch. Pain shot from your wrists up to your shoulders. Out of instinct, you dropped the gun and rubbed at your sore hands.

"Jesus Christ.." you muttered.

"It's pretty hefty. Are you alright?" Leon asked softly, a comforting hand resting on your back.

"Yeah, it just caught me off guard." You chuckled awkwardly, swallowing thickly.

"No worries. Let's try again." He gave you a small smile and gently placed the weapon back into your hands.

You felt a tense feeling crawl up your spine, a feeling that often led you to being overstimulated, hoping the world would just go quiet for a moment.

You tried again anyway, pushing down any discomfort that bubbled up. Leon was breathing down your neck. He was caging you in and mumbling corrections and tips into your ear.

Those things were usually very welcome, but right now, they were driving you up the wall.

The gunshot was too loud, the recoil made the marrow in your bones shake, and all of his touches were only cutting more at the thin string of your sanity.

Your bullets kept missing, whizzing past the wooden decals as they mockingly stared you in the face.

The frustration was unbearable as you gritted your teeth. You aimed at their faces very clearly.

How come you still hadn't hit a single shot?

Leon sighed, tugging at your arms to bring them in a better position.

A position that didn't help at all.

"No- not like that. I already told you, you need to-"

"No, stop!" You snapped, flinging the gun out of your hands and shoving him off of you.

"I can't- I don't want to do this. Any of this!" You said loudly, your arms moving as you spoke while Leon only stared at you in mild shock.

"It's okay, everyone misses, you'll get it eventually. You just need to try again." He tried to encourage you with a lopsided smile but it only fueled the raging fire.

"I don't want to try again! It's not happening, okay?! This isn't my job, I wasn't trained for this- you were! The only thing I was supposed to do was make sure Ashley, and you, were okay on the flight back home. And now, I'm stuck in a literal nightmare where even the fucking dogs want to eat me and I can't catch a break!" You yelled, tears welling in your eyes as all of your emotions spilled out of you.

"Not to mention that I already feel useless as it is, and you feel the need to drill me like-like I'm some stupid soldier, telling me all the things I'm doing wrong as if I don't know them myself!" You heaved, angrily wiping at the tears that managed to fall from your lashline.

Leon watched with a frown as everything unraveled and you fell apart at the seams.

"I... I hate this. I don't want to keep running and fighting only to keep falling on my ass. I wasn't made for this! If it wasn't for you, I would've given up already and I'd be dead." You spit the words his way and he couldn't tell if it was an accusation or not.

"I'm tired and hungry and disgusting and scared and.... I just want to go home." You didn't stop the sob that ripped from your chest as it all came down, the horrors of the last few days fresh in your mind.

You hated the dirt and blood that was caked under your fingernails. You hated how you reeked of sweat and guts. You hated how your throat felt dry and your stomach twisted in hunger.

And right now, you hated him, too. You hated how resilient he was, how he managed to pull through even when there was no easy way out.

Perhaps it was jealousy that you couldn't be like that. The thought only made you cry harder because it wasn't true. You didn't hate Leon, not at all.

You loved him. You loved him so much that it hurt sometimes, but the world was a cruel place that somehow managed to pit you against him.

Leon looked helpless and stunned as you wailed, screaming your throat sore. These days would change your life forever, and only for the worst.

He could feel an uncomfortable pull in his chest, and he swallowed thickly, his head hanging low.

With each heart-shattering cry, you could feel the exhaustion take over as all your strength you had left was drained.

Leon felt ashamed, in a sense, that he hadn't taken care of you better.

You were right.

You were never supposed to be here, to see and live through any of this.

He had made the mistake of thinking your mind was like his, that you were like him.

But you weren't, and that's why he loved you.

You were the moon in his pitch-black night, giving him your sacred light to guide him to safety.

You were the sun that filled his days with joy, making the flowers bloom as your warmth tickled his skin.

You were the stars that would keep him company on a lonely evening, sparkling with love as he wondered what fascinating tales could be behind them.

You were his everything, and he had failed you.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, delicately cupping the back of your head as he held you against his chest.

All you could do was weep into his shirt, trusting him to catch you if your knees were to give out.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled into the crown of your head, following it with a soft kiss.

His lips moved to your forehead, gently holding your face. Your sobs had quieted down to sniffles, gasps for air and soft cries as he wiped the tears from your cheeks and the snot from your nose.

Your arms were tightly wound around his middle.

"I'm sorry for not protecting you better. I'm sorry for thinking you were like me. Ashley might be important to the government, but you're important to me. And I will make sure we get home. I promise you I'll keep you safe." He spoke softly, gently stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

You sniffled at his heartfelt words and and rested your forehead against his sternum.

"Thank you. Thank you for being you. Even if you're reckless and care way too much about others and it makes me want to lovingly kick your ass." You giggled wetly, followed by yet another sniffle as you wiped at your nose.

Leon huffed laugh, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"Thank you for allowing me to be the way I am." He responded gently, wrapping you up in his arms once again as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You sunk into his embrace, a soft sigh slipping past your lips.

"I love you." You mumbled into his chest.

"I love you more."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your face dropped when Saddler twisted and contorted, limbs breaking while new, insectoid ones sprouted from odd parts of his body.

You watched in horror as he turned into a grotesque mutation of legs and eyes. You thought it was over. A foolish thing to think on your part. You should've expected this. After Méndez, and Ramón. Bile rose in your throat at the sight.

No matter how horrifying this was, his salvation didn't help him in the looks department.

You watched, heart pounding, as Leon threw himself into the thick of it, literally.

You stood back at a distance, doing your best to help him out with your mediocre shots. You managed to hit what you assumed was his knee now sporting a sickly looking eye.

His leg buckled and a scream ripped from his chest.

The fear that rushed through you when Saddler, or what was left of him, stared right at you with his disgusting eye was something you never wished to feel again.

The look was bone-chilling, your breath catching in your throat as you came face to face with the abyss that was the black pupil of his eyeball. Suddenly, you snapped back with a gasp, and your instincts kicked in.

You ran like you've never run before, your boots a heavy sound against the metal grate beneath your feet while your muscles burned.

From the corner of your vision, you could spot Leon with a determined scowl on his face while he continued to fill Saddler with mag after mag, hoping the lead would seep deep into his bones. Your lungs hurt as you sprinted away from Saddler.

You gulped heaves of air, hoping to get more oxygen to your muscles. Your one mistake, however, was slightly turning your head to look how far he was behind you.

He was hot on your tail, moving in an uncanny manner.

Like a broken toy, the mechanism jumbled.

One of his insectoid limbs hurled your way, your eyes widened, and in the split of a second, you threw yourself to a lower platform to evade his attempt on your life.

The air was knocked from you and pain shot up your nerves as you harshly hit the metal. You groaned and rolled onto your back, holding your side that would surely bloom in shades of blue and purple come morning.

If the morning ever came.

Leon's head snapped towards the noise and a bellowing call of your name made you turn to look at him. As best as you could, anyway.

He fed Saddler a few more bullets until he was stunned, collapsed in on himself while he spat illegible curses Leon's way, before running in your direction. You'd managed to get yourself to sit up but your gun was knocked out of your hand when you landed on the grate.

The ground shook beneath you as Leon jumped to your level, the steel bending under his weight.

He was beside you in an instant, pulling you up with a steady hand on your back.

"Are you okay?" He heaved, a worried crease between his brows.

Breathing hurt, you'd surely cracked a rib or two if they weren't broken.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good..." You forced out with a very unconvincing smile.

He gave you a sharp nod.

"Stay behind me-"

"WATCH OUT!" You yelled, watching in horror as Saddler came at the both of you with one of his pointy legs.

It was headed right for Leon, a fatal blow if you didn't act now. With only one thing on your mind, you smashed into him, pushing him out of the way as he fell with a grunt, the cling of metal echoing through the heavy air.

You had no time to get away yourself, so you were the victim of Saddler's attack as the spiny point of his limb pierced your abdomen.

It was a hot and agonizing pain as you sacked to your knees with a blood curdling scream. A raw and desperate scream erupted from Leon's chest as he watched the horror unfold in front of him.

His worst nightmare was now realer than it ever was in any of his dreams.

Everything became blurry as you desperately tried to stop your blood from spilling out of you. The crimson liquid spilled between your fingers.

You could barely make out Leon's silhouette as he heaved himself off the ground to reach you, only to be flung across the platforms by Saddler until he hit one of the metal railings with an unsettling noise.

It was like your head was wrapped in cotton, all sounds muffled as you tried to keep your eyes open.

Your breathing became shallow, and your fingertips felt cold as they slowly numbed. You could make out Saddler's taunting remarks and a kneeling Leon that had a rage in his eyes like you've never seen it before.

Your consciousness was slipping away from you, a hand still firmly pressed to the wound on your stomach even as your remaining strength was fading away.

You blinked away salty tears from your burning vision, touching your wet cheek only to leave behind a red stain.

"Leon.." You breathed out before your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and your arms fell slack to your side.

Leon's eyes burned with tears as he watched your form go limp, a sharp tug in his chest. With a newfound determination, he picked himself up, tightly gripping Saddler's staff before driving it into his large eye with a chilling scream, watching as all the grotesque lies spilled from him.

"So much for your salvation." He spat bitterly, burying one of his throwing knives right in the middle of Saddler's forehead for good measure.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next thing you knew you were envolped by a comforting warmth, strong arms holding you like so many times before, muffled promised whispered into your ear, the delicate stroke of a calloused thumb on your cheek and chapped lips pressed tenderly to your temple.

Your vision was dark still, only a faint string of consciousness making you aware enough to pick up on the familiar sound of helicopter blades.

Relief settled in your bones.

You'd done it. Well, Leon had, really.

Ashley was safe, Leon was safe, Saddler was gone. That was all that mattered. Your part was done.

You'd leave it to the Moirai whether to cut your string or to deem you worthy enough so Clotho would keep spinning it.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Leon was a mess.

Red, bloodshot eyes with dark circles beneath them as he sat by your side tightly grasping your hand in his.

He hadn't slept in days, keeping himself awake with unhealthy amounts of shitty hospital coffee.

The only time he'd gone home- your shared home- was to shower and get a few things for you. And that only happened because Hunnigan was stubborn and persistent.

You looked so peaceful, a soft expression on your face as you took shallow breaths. You had all kinds of wires and tubes connecting you to various machines, but at least you could breathe on your own.

You were lucky, really, the surgeons had said the blow narrowly missed your spine. You were alive. You were stable, and the doctors were positive you'd make a full recovery.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that this had happened on his watch. He had promised to keep you safe, to protect you, and he'd failed once again.

The moment he saw you laying there limp, blood gushing from your abdomen, it felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest. That image would play in his mind over and over again until he died.

Leon sniffled and wiped a stray tear from his lashline, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

He didn't want to think of that horrible moment, but it was like that was all he could see when he looked at you. Your beautiful and angelic face now tainted with a horrific memory.

His hand found your cheek, cupping it gently.

"You're so stupid. So, so stupid. But if you wouldn't have been, I guess that would be me right now." He chuckled sadly, wiping at his nose.

"I wish it was." He mumbled, a heavy sigh following.

"Come back to me.." he whispered, his voice giving out as he brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face.

Leon pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left with a heavy heart, promising he'd be back tomorrow.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

He grew accustomed to the harsh white lights and the sterile smell of the hospital.

He looked terrible.

Sleep hadn't come easy to him, especially not on the ratty couch in your apartment that you'd wanted to replace for ages now.

Leon refused to sleep in your bed without you- not when you were in that horrible hospital fighting for your life.

He resorted to wrapping one of your shirts around his pillow, hoping it would give him the bit of comfort he so desperately craved, only to stain it with his tears.

The halls seemed to glum around him as he made his way to your room, rounding the corners with a familiar ease.

He took a deep breath as he stood in front of the door, collecting himself.

Leon was falling apart every time he left the hospital. Sobbing and crying in the shower, praying to whoever was up there to not take you from him, too.

He grasped the door handle and stepped inside, only for his world to stop for a second when he gazed upon you, awake, sitting up in the bed, laughing with a nurse.

The color had returned to your face, your eyes had that sparkle back that he loved so much, and your smile was enough to mend the tears in his heart.

He must've made a startled noise, his eyes wide and lips parted when the nurse turned to look at him with a soft expression.

You followed her gaze only to have tears welling in your eyes at the state of Leon.

"Leon." You choked out, shuffling to sit at the edge of the bed, dressed in one of his comfortable sweaters.

Any of the nurse's concerns fell on deaf ears as you opened your arms for him with a pleading look and glistening eyes.

His startled expression fell, replaced by a feeling of relief washing over him as a sob escaped his chest and he rushed over to you, falling to his knees and wrapping you up in his arms as carefully as he could.

Leon rested his head against your sternum, listening to the steady beat of your heart as he cried in your embrace.

You joined him, weeping as you gently stroked his sandy locks, your cheek pressed to the top of his head.

The nurse slipped out of the room promptly and quietly, leaving the two of you to let out all the overwhelming feelings that sat inside your chest.

"I thought I'd lost you..." he cried, slightly tightening his grip.

"I'd never leave you." You hiccuped, gently pulling his face from your chest, a wet patch on the fabric.

The pain and fear in his baby blues was enough to break your heart.

"No more crying, this is supposed to be a happy moment." You chuckled wetly, wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Sorry, I just-.. you're okay." He smiled sadly, cupping your cheeks.

"I'm okay." You nodded with a small smile.

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against yours.

"I was so scared, I-"

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm okay, you're okay. A little roughed up, but nothing we can't handle." You spoke gently, nuzzling your nose with his.

Leon nodded and swallowed. He let out a shaky breath.

"You're right. I'm just glad you're alive." You smiled softly.

"So am I." You breathed out contently, letting your eyes fall shut in comfort.

"I love you." Leon whispered, his arms loosely wrapped around your middle, minding your bandaged stomach.

"I love you more." You replied with a soft giggle, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He sighed against your lips, one of his hands moving to cup your face. You pulled away with a soft smile.

"And another thing." You said quietly, making a puzzled expression take over his face.

"I quit." You said with a chuckle, pulling a laugh from him.

To see his face light up like that and to witness the dullness in his eyes vanish made your heart swell.

"I'll put in your notice with Hunnigan." He smiled, sniffling as he stroked your cheek.

You nodded with a giggle.

You let him climb into bed with you, snuggling into his chest so he could catch up on all the sleep he's lost.

You couldn't help but smile when you heard him snore softly, his breathing steady. You let yourself slip into sleep as well, giving your body the rest it needed to heal all while you were safely in his arms.

Perhaps the Sisters had deemed you worthy enough; Clotho was still working her spindel with skilled hands, Lachesis was carefully and delicately measuring your string and Atropos was taking her time polishing her scissors to a sparkling shine, so the blades would be sharp to cut your golden thread when the times was right.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Let me know your thoughts!! 😊✨️

More of my work -> 💫

《Leon Taglist》: @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @allysunny @dmitriene @entr4p3 @leonslittlekennedy @argreion @angelstargel

Lmk if you want to be added! Make sure I can tag you! 🩷🐝

[merilaurecus]

Companions reactions to finding out Modern!Tav can't return to Earth and is stuck in Faerûn for good

This was on my mind for a while. It's post-game, a while after the defeat of the Netherbrain but before the reunion party. The group is still together.

Gale (Professor Dekarios ending)

Already thinking about a spell that actually can do it.

Can't help but feel a little hopeless when even Elminster said it's not possible.

But this man won't give up until he really runs out of options (ambition™️).

One of the few companions that can offer you a place to stay.

Also will offer a hug or an evening together (certified Gale girlie here, if that was me I'd probably confess to him; not that night because I'd be too overwhelmed with leaving what I knew behind, but the next night I'd be like "fuck it, I had a feelings for him before anyway, might as well").

Compassionate and understanding, though he'd try to be around to make sure you are doing well enough not to do anything stupid (yes, I mean the worst option here beginning with the letter S).

Meal cooked with love is on his to-do list (homemade hundur sauce I'm looking at you).

Even when he's down in his research he'll look out for you from time to time.

Also doing the sad eyes when he thinks about the situation. When he was told it wasn't an option he was rather terrified.

Still he prepares a worst case scenario books to teach you stuff about Faerûn. Prays he doesn't have to ever use them.

Karlach (yeet into Avernus with Wyll)

Yo this girl will be your shoulder to cry on.

But she'll probably cry with you together.

She knows how it feels more than she'd like.

But she can leave Avernus from time to time, can't imagine being stuck there forever.

After crying together she'll remain strong for you, probably won't leave your side in fear of you doing something stupid too.

Can't help much with magic but cheering you up? You've got this. Long chats to drive your mind away from the situation about any topic other than that, cuddles, that sort of things.

Also helping you gain some physical strength so you can survive here.

Hugs. Hugs. And once again - hugs.

Will look out for you most of the time if she can't be near.

Astarion (vampire spawn in Baldur's Gate)

He won't even dare to make a joke about it.

I mean it.

He may not know being stuck in other world, but being a slave with no way out of it gives him an idea of what kind of situation you're in.

Won't be the cuddliest or shit, but will keep your Earth clothes in a good shape (tailor time). Just so you have something from there to last longer.

Much like the others, he'll look out for you in the night, but will do it his sneaky way. Just enough for him to know you're alright without you noticing.

He'll say how he feels about your situation in time though. May even offer a hug. He's not Karlach but after all the events he's more open to physical contact with his friends.

Ready to teach you more stuff about Faerûn if nothing works to get you back to Earth. Especially archery. And sneaking. And stealing.

Shadowheart (Selûnite edition)

Let's be honest, all of these people were torn apart from their homes in one way or another.

Shadowheart can relate to you, though her experience is different too.

She doesn't remember much, but you do.

Approaches you with good (but weak) wine and allows you to pour your misery out.

Tells you you have a place to stay with her parents (let's go the happy endings route).

She's not a wizard, but will keep an eye out for every piece of knowledge about travelling through different worlds.

You've been to Shadowfell and Avernus after all.

Will talk you out of sacrificing your memories to Shar. She knows all to well she'd take everything from your little desperate soul.

Flowers are her language of love.

Will also animal speech Scratch and the owlbear to play with you instead of her, telling them how bad you feel.

Soon you can't get them off you, but it does put a smile on your face.

When no one is looking she'll pray to Selûne to guide you your way back home.

Much like everyone she looks out for you, ready to teach you about Faerûn as well (if she hasn't already she'll teach you how to heal yourself when you're alone).

Lae'zel (Freeing Githyanki/Orpheus sacrificed)

At first she found your tears weak.

Then she realized what it would feel like not being able to return to her people.

She felt that to the gut.

She'll show you more tricks to make your enemies fall quick (lmao I rhymed this one).

Also will keep an eye out for a knowledge that could bring you back to Earth (you know, Githyanki and their tons of knowledge).

Not much talkative but you'll see understanding in her eyes soon enough.

If you're a sword fighter she'll give you one of her sharpest ones. Githyanki language of caring is either combat or weapons you know.

(Daddy) Halsin

He also remembers being somewhere else against his wishes, though as a slave.

A single thought of not seeing sun again if he was to stay in the Underdark forever gives him creeps.

You need a hug? A cuddle? He'll be there for you in either form you choose.

You're not escaping whittling and druidic magic lessons. Just so you can get your mind off things and also heal/defend yourself should the situation call for it.

Offers you a place to stay, you're welcome anytime.

Not much of a cook but will pick the finest berries and find the biggest honey comb in the forest.

Looks out for you in some small wildshape (raven or a squirrel probably) when you sneak in the night to cry alone. Should he see situation is bad will approach you in his usual bear form.

Strongly believes there's a way - you've done much that was thought to be impossible. Especially you, someone who had almost no previous experience with weapons or magic.

He's old and wise - will keep thinking about it in hopes some solution will remind itself.

Wyll (yeet into Avernus with Karlach)

Banished from his home he understands a bit of your situation.

Haven't been to other world with no way back, it was his decision to go to Avernus with Mommy K, but he knows Karlach and it helps him understand it.

Another shoulder you can cry one, the Blade does not judge.

Still you're fresh to Faerûn and he'll hate to see you dead before your time, so he'll offer you fencing lessons (I can hear that eyeroll, Lae'zel).

Asks about the dances back in your world and gladly learns them (belgijka jumpscare).

Looking out for you when you go somewhere alone (especially at night).

In Avernus he'll look for some knowledge about travels to different worlds. It's another plane of existence after all.

Jaheira, Minsc & Boo

Minsc is happy to have his friend here forever only to understand the situation after either Jaheira or Boo explains it to him.

Jaheira feels for you more than she'd like to show, but you'll see care in her eyes.

Just like Halsin she'll research her memory for anything that may allow you to return.

Minsc apologises to you after the scolding.

Won't help much tho, he'll be just an emotional support (together with Boo, of course).

Jaheira asks all the Harpers to keep an eye out for any book or a scroll related to your problem. Also will ask any of her old friends to do the same, even if it means her repaying that favour. She can still go fast when she wants to!

[kanrix]

AGE REGRESSION CLAY HEADCANON TIME OOO BOY.. I may or may not have some yapping to do about this..

First off, I saw the 2 tags specifically on the answer you gave that caught my attention. I do feel Clay definitely bites his nails or his thumb.. With age regression (spoken from someone who has an issue with this) I definitely think he does suck his thumb or gnaw at it a little if he's overstimulated in a way.. specifically in fetal position. I may just be saying this out of solely what I do but.. yeah.

The whole urine thing as well. I think like the bed wetting definitely has something to do with age regression and bladder issues due to overuse of alcohol, being a responsive thing that just kind of happens reflexively.. most likely with a nightmare or something.

Also think he does things subconsciously while he's asleep like for one, clinging onto his pillow as well as tossing and turning. I think he gets restless while asleep, and maybe that's why he ends up responding that way. (bed wetting, being restless, etc.)

There's another thing that could fall into the restless category but I may return to that sometime after this ask.

I don't really want to get into the egg thing because. first off since its uncomfortable a bit for me to talk about myself and. also since Sinvilles could do a better analyzation post about it than anyone, i fear.

with clays hair curl I have a few random things with that. that could very likely be tagged on with this in a way maybe. I think he may have had a habit of twirling that thing a bit..

I think he had issues at school with bullying and constantly tried to get attention and make himself the rage bait.. clearly it ends up working. He'd go home bloodied a lot to Aurther and he'd brush it off, not care, almost scold him for it, but then stopping himself, pretend not to notice, or just not notice entirely.

which made clays sacrifice rant happen, specifically because he wanted that attention again and wasn't able to get. which maybe could be why he kept his distance from Orel, just because of how his father was absent for a while after giving clay old gunny. and he didn't want to look at Orel because he felt mad at Orel and himself a little because he wasn't 'Man' enough and Clay himself couldn't make him something he saw himself in. so it made him feel the need to be distant with something he didn't feel connected to, felt more like Blobertas child than his own.

"weak, and passive. and ultimately broken by the ones who were made the fittest!! and that through your weaknesses you built up a poison.. that poisoned others around you.. that you loved. and the only true justice was to let those dominant jackals feed on you.. survive of you."

I truly believe he was age regressing here. back to when he would try so desperately to get his fathers attention that he craved and somehow failed no matter what he did. and he let everyone pick on him and make himself stand out specifically because it would make him feel at least some sort of affection other than being ignored. negative attention is still attention nonetheless right?

There's still more too it than that I just need more time to get my thoughts collected..

extra little side note ::

with clays hair curl I have a few random things with that age regression that could very likely be tagged on with this in a way maybe. I think he may have had a habit of twirling that thing a bit..

Clearly the more reasoned option being he snipped off a chunk of his hair when he was younger so it just never grew out enough and it just kinda just wouldn't stay back.. either that or he does his hair every morning and tries to make his hair perfect every morning cuz he's kind of a freak when it comes to that I think..

[tedwardremus]

assuming sirius survived OOTP, how do you think he’d react to finding out remus threw harry against a wall? i can’t imagine him getting too angry at remus for anything but also he’d hex the shit out of anyone who dare touch a hair on harry’s head sooo

This is an intriguing question because, if Sirius had survived the events of Order of the Phoenix, the entire trajectory of Deathly Hallows would change dramatically. For instance, the scene where Remus throws Harry against the wall would likely never happen.

Remus distances himself from Tonks in Half-Blood Prince for several reasons—he despises himself, feels unworthy of love, and believes he’s too dangerous to be around others. But I also think grief played a significant role.

In the first war, Remus lost everything: all his friends, his emotional support system, and his financial stability. He was a man deeply suffering from PTSD. Then, miraculously, he gets one of his best friends back. We see how close Remus and Sirius are—they live together, buy Harry joint presents, and Remus confides in Sirius about the politics of the wizarding world and the mistreatment of werewolves.

When Sirius dies, Remus loses that vital emotional support again. He distances himself from Tonks because he can’t bear the thought of loving someone only to lose them again.

If Sirius had survived, I believe Remus would’ve had the emotional support he desperately needed. His relationship with Tonks would have played out differently—he might have been more open to the idea of a family and less paralyzed by the fear of loss.

Sirius’s survival would also have a massive impact on the Horcrux hunt. In my mind, Sirius would have taken charge, never allowing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go off on their own. The trio would likely remain hidden at Grimmauld Place, while Sirius, Remus, and Tonks worked together to track down the Horcruxes. With Sirius alive, so many ripple effects would occur that Remus would never end up in that confrontation with Harry.

Now, let's imagine that nothing else changes—Sirius just happens to be alive. Remus still comes to Grimmauld Place and tells Sirius and Harry he wants to join them, insisting James would have wanted him to help.

Sirius, ever perceptive, immediately becomes suspicious. He knows Remus too well.

When Remus and Harry argue about parents abandoning their children, Sirius intervenes. He stops Remus from leaving and grabs him by the back of his worn-out cloak and hauls him into another room, telling Harry to stay put.

Once they're alone, Sirius gives Remus the blunt talk only a close friend could deliver. He tells Remus to get a grip. Stop dwelling on James, because James is gone, and to stop wallowing in self-hatred. He insists Remus apologize to Harry, return home to Tonks, and start acting like a father.

Sirius refuses to watch another friend die and leave a child to grow up without their parent.

Also, just one more thing about this scene that I don't see many people talk about but it is a real turning point for Remus and Hrry's relationship because it is a moment when Remus stops being a mentor to Harry and they are equals. Remus isn't throwing his student or his friend's son agaisnt the wall, it a fellow resistance fighter. This is another instance that show Harry is no longer a child but an adult.

The power dynamic of the realtionship in this scene gets reverse. Remus is not the one giving out advice and helping Harry. It is Harry, leader of the Horcrux hunt, that is teaching a lesson to Remus, his former teacher.

[ltwilliammowett]

Joseph Thompson

Joseph Thompson (died 1719) was a pirate from Trinidad, Cuba and was one of the 209 pirates on New Providence who declared to Captain Vincent Pearse their intention to accept an offer of amnesty and pardon made in 1718. Together with Charles Vane and several others, he soon returned to piracy. After hiring an additional crew for his sloop Eagle, he captured and plundered several ships in the area. In December 1718, within sight of Port Royal, Thompson captured a ship called the Kingston, whose cargo was worth over £20,000. The ship owners complained to the Jamaican governor Nicholas Lawes, but there were no Royal Navy warships available.

Instead, Lawes commissioned two sloops in the harbour and promised them a share of the pirates' treasure in addition to the rewards King George had promised in his proclamation of September 1717 to combat piracy. The two sloops set sail before the end of the year and encountered the pirate ship and another captured vessel. The pirate ship under Captain Thompson hoisted a black flag and proceeded to attack.

Thompson's ship passed alongside one of the pirate raiders and ‘threw a large number of powder flasks, shells and stink cans into the ship, killing and wounding several and causing others to jump overboard. ‘The other pirate raider collected the survivors, whose accounts of the fight ‘so disheartened the men on board the other ship that they made their way back to Port Royal.’ Thompson's crew of 150 men, ‘bandits of all nations’, abandoned the remaining sailors in the Cayman Islands.

Jamaica's merchants again appealed to Lawes to take action against Thompson. Lawes, with the help of the merchants, commissioned four more sloops with 10 guns and 80 crew and, after refitting another sloop in Port Royal and the arrival of the fifth-rate frigate HMS Ludlow Castle, divided his forces to protect the arriving merchantmen and hunt down Thompson. Four of the sloops soon cornered Thompson's ship, killed him and salvaged the Kingston. Some of the surviving crew members were captured to await trial in Bermuda, where they were found guilty and hanged in 1720.

Little, Benerson (2010). Pirate Hunting: The Fight Against Pirates, Privateers, and Sea Raiders from Antiquity to the Present

Fox, E. T. (2014). Pirates In Their Own Words

Woodard, Colin (2008). The Republic of Pirates: Being the True and Surprising Story of the Caribbean Pirates and the Man Who Brought Them Down

[waffles505]

OMITB S4 Killer Theory

....SPOILERS....

...

Ben GLENroy isn't dead. 

This is my theory for OMITB Season 4. Although I do ultimately think that there are 2 killers/people involved, I believe I have a good part of it solved. Again, just a theory, this could end up being totally wrong...but let me know what YOU think. 

...

In S4E4, our favorite trio (Charles, Mabel & Oliver) go to "Concussions", a bar for stunmen founded in the 70s. We learned that Sazz was there and posted a selfie the day she was murdered. When they start asking questions about Sazz, stuntpeople who were all friends with Sazz, start to get agitated. Especially with Charles (this makes sense as he was Sazz's "face"). As things start to escalate, out of nowhere, a man rolls into the conversation. The trio is shocked to see Ben Glenroy (the victim of S3). Irish Paul Rudd says that he is actually Ben's stunt double...Glen Stubbins. Glen explains how he's mad at the trio for taking "Ben" from him and claims that "15 years he worked for Ben". Throughout this conversation, Glen keeps seeing "rats" everywhere, trying to kill them. No one else sees the rats he's talking about. As the stuntpeople start to get more upset, Glen escorts the trio out of the building. Once they are outside, Glen apologizes for having to play up the "fighting" and wants to talk to Charles. Specifically, he asks Charles if he will be his new "Face". Charles politely declines and Glen begs him for work on a project. Mabel offers Glen a position on the film being made about their podcast and Glen is relieved. He then goes on to show off some "stunts" he can do and the trio is impressed and scared at the same time. When asked about the back room in the bar, Glen tells them about Dr. Maggie who is a chiropractor that helps all the stuntpeople with their pain management. Charles, alarmed, asked if Sazz was in pain. Glen responds "She was in pain, thanks to you". After deciding to take Charles to meet Dr. Maggie, Glen warns Charles to "Mind the rats". Glen stays and listens in on Dr. Maggie's conversation both Charles. We learn that Sazz was in pain and planning to retire to a new career. She was "hurt from a one-sided relationship", Charles believes it's himself that hurt her. We later see Charles return to Concussions, where he decided to "Tap in" for Sazz, so that she could have a proper stuntman's funeral. 

After being hit with a fake bottle, Charles is shocked (rightly so). Glen leans in and tells him, "Lie still, dead man". When it's Glen's turn to say his "goodbyes" to Sazz, he accidently(?) uses a real bottle to hit Charles, knocking him out. 

As chaos ensues and stuntpeople fight one another, Glen says to himself, "this is what Sazz would have wanted."

Soo...what is my theory? 

Ben Glenroy didn't die. His "stuntman" did. Here' what I think happened: 

Ben was the one that temporarily died from the rat poison. In S3, we're led to believe that Ben died from the poison, miraculously survived it, only to be murdered again after being pushed down an elevator shaft. #Rip

Here’s the thing…Ben showed up rather quickly from the hospital to the after-party. With something as serious as ingesting RAT POISON, there’s no way he would be able to walk around and show up, just fine, to the party that occurred so soon after. I believe that while Ben was recovering in the hospital, Ben’s (real) stunt double went in his place (or shall I say, “tapped in”) to the party and unfortunately ended up being killed. Now, whether Ben knew about his stunt double doing this at the time, I don’t know. Recovering from Rat Poison would likely take days, possibly even weeks to recover from (especially considering the amount he was given).  I think the loss of his Stunt Double, especially if they had a relationship similar to what Sazz and Charles had, would hurt him greatly. Ben would probably feel guilt, like we see Charles experiencing in the current time. But if someone wanted Ben dead, hearing the news that he was still alive could put himself in danger. So what does he do? He decides to put on another great performance…that being ”Glen Stubbins”. 

We know that “Glen” is seeing rats everywhere. Ben was poisoned with RAT posion and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to deal with some side effects after such a serious health scare, such as hallucinations. Ben also likely has PTSD and could be seeing these “rats” as a result. 

Also…Ben Glenroy? Glen Stubbins?

They both have the word GLEN in their names. That’s too much of a coincidence. There’s NO WAY that Ben just happened to find a stunt double who looks identical to him with partially the same name as him. We know that Ben isn’t the smartest bulb in the pack, so perhaps he should have picked SOMETHING other than “Glen”. 

Now, why would Ben do all of this? 

MOTIVE: We know that Ben HATED Charles. While Charles was working on Brazzos, a young Ben Glenroy was cast as a series regular. However, after the first table read, Charles told the director that Ben was a phony and had him fired. Ben blames Charles for his failing acting career. Ben could very easily, in some twisted way, ultimately blame Charles for his Stuntman dying. 

This could mean that Ben had the motive to kill Charles AND/OR Sazz. 

*Although I believe Charles was the true intended target, Sazz being the target is still a possibility. 

Let’s say Sazz WAS the target, Ben knows Sazz. How? Ben briefly worked on Brazzos, which Sazz was Charles’s stuntman for. Maybe Ben wanted Charles to understand the pain he’s in? He wants Charles to know what it feels like to lose that special person. 

IF Charles was the intended target, we already have several reasons for why Ben would kill him. Charles “ruined” his life. What makes a better murderer than someone who’s already supposed to be dead? NO ONE would think/suspect Ben Glenroy, a dead man, could have done it…

I don’t think Ben decided to pretend to be his stunt double until he realized that Charles wasn’t the one that died, Sazz did. Ben gets away with murder, it never gets solved, he ruins Charle’s life in the process, and imagine the Hollywood comeback he would have if he revealed that he had actually been alive this whole time.  What a performance!

As for the other murderer/person involved, I don’t know WHO it is yet, but think Ben must be connected to someone in Hollywood. This person would have to distract the gang with a “movie” about the podcast…but I don’t think the movie is even real. I think it’s all a distraction just to lead up to the big reveal...A movie/documentary about the return of Ben Glenroy and how he survived death. Now THAT would be a huge blockbuster hit. 

As for who dies next…I’m worried for Howard, Loretta, and Oliver. 

Let me know what you think! <3

Reddit Link: https://www.reddit.com/r/OnlyMurdersHulu/comments/1foy09g/s4_killer_theory/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

[swannieluv]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ Wasted youth.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Platonic!Ajax x GN!Reader

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 11k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: violence, blood, death.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐀/𝐍: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I hope everyone can enjoy this <3

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩. 𝐛𝐲 Tempo Perdido - Legião Urbana

✦⸼࣪⸳ likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

Snezhnaya is not exactly a friendly nation. The cold that seems to run from the veins to the depths of people's innermost being brings with it a certain hostility towards those who don't know the heart of the land. But within Ajax's distorted childhood perception, Snezhnaya was like a gentle mother, protecting its children under icy embrace.

But then, why did such a loving land allow its own child to fall into the deepest depths of the Abyss? Like drowning in freezing water, a child who survived Teyvat's darkest and loneliest place would certainly not come out of it the same as he went in.

"Ajax" was still Ajax, wasn't he? The same child, named after a hero from ancient tales, full of compassion and empathy, now carried with him a gaze that was deader than the fish he caught on ice.

Joining the Fatui wasn't in his plans for the future; being one of them wasn't so bad, although he wasn't expecting much for the future. But what he didn't like was being the youngest in the unit, it was a complete humiliation.

Not that the seniors were a challenge for him, but being constantly underestimated was... infuriating, to say the least. While his strength was admirable — thanks to Skirk, he would thank her someday — Ajax felt constantly bored, with no meaningful challenge ahead of him.

"Redhead!" The call was accompanied by a snowball, which hit him square in the face; his moment of peace was interrupted, though it didn't really matter.

Ajax could only sigh before letting out a soundless laugh, knowing exactly who had hit him: [Name], a recruit not much older than him, maybe a year or so. Being under the same division, it wasn't unusual to bump into them. "Here it comes..."

They weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances. However, they also kept in touch enough to be just "acquaintances". Never friends, perhaps not at all.

As if he had some kind of radar, [Name] always appeared whenever Ajax had his rare moment of philosophical thought of questionable quality. Usually to disrupt the whole process.

" Damn, looks like you really found me," he laughed, turning to look at them.

"That's the third time I've had to look for you this week," they complained, carefully preparing another snowball to throw at him. "I always get scolded because of you, you know that?"

They weren't exactly wrong. Whenever Ajax wandered off the map, it was [Name] who had to look for him in the frozen woods. Not that they really bothered to do it, but it was tiring going around in circles until they found him.

"Look at it as part of your job."

"Babysitting...?"

"No, looking after your companions."

"... How idiotic."

"How heroic. It's very noble to look after your friends, you know?" Ajax corrected. His eyes returned to scanning the surrounding trees in a relaxed manner.

"Not when said 'friends' get into trouble all the time," they retorted.

"I always come back, it's not like you need to hunt me down like I'm some criminal on the loose." He shook his head briskly, brushing the snow off the top of his hair. However, he was greeted with another sharp shot right to the scalp.

"Look... So, all due respect, but you're not far off being one, you know?" they shyly replied. Not in a rude way, but still a little offensive to whoever it was directed at.

He didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended by what they said. Maybe both? Well, they weren't exactly wrong... Ajax was already considered a marginal project, or at least it seemed that way.

"Why did you do that?"

"What? You have to specify or I won't know,” his smile fell, replaced by a neutral expression. He tried to feign ignorance, but it didn't work very well.

"Don't be cynical. You beat up an older soldier. Aren't you a little ashamed?”

Which soldier were they talking about? It didn't matter to him anyway, as he'd lost count of how many he'd challenged and won — it wasn't a difficult task, they were never a match for him.

All too often they were weak, and [Name] was the worst of them all. That's why Ajax didn't even bother trying when inviting them to a duel, because the result was obvious from the start. The last time they sparred, it was be boring, easy and not worth the effort.

"Should I be? If a soldier almost two meters tall can't beat up a 14—year—old, then that means he's a weakling, doesn't it?" Ajax crossed his arms. "Besides, he called me names before, so we're even."

"Seriously..." they sighed, "Seriously, try not to make such a fuss. The Fifth can get you out of most trouble, only until you do something, let's say, really catastrophic."

"Something catastrophic like...?" he asked curiously, his gaze fixed on them.

"Like... burning down the Zapolyarny palace?"

His jaw dropped in shock, and a touch of offense showed on his cold—pink face. That was the most absurd thing he had heard in recent times. "What?! Why do you think I would do something like that?"

"Because it's you we're talking about, redhead."

"What's with the nickname?"

"I think it's funny, don't you?"

"You know... whatever." Ajax put his hands on his waist, shaking his head slightly. "I'll take that as an excuse to put a nickname on you too."

"So you're going to stop with the ' comrade' thing and come up with something even worse? Really?"

"Maybe so... maybe not. Who knows?"

The boy gave a relaxed smile, patting them on the shoulder before moving on. His heavy footsteps in the snow served as a background noise to the uneasy silence around them.

"I found it."

"Hm? Found what?" Ajax raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

[Name] pulled out a red scarf, so familiar to Ajax, from inside their backpack, carefully tying it around his neck. The fabric was warm, or perhaps it was the feeling of zeal, or also the nostalgia it brought.

Ajax hadn't realized he had left it behind. And when he realized it, the difference between the cold air and the protection of the scarf was remarkable — was he so distracted that he didn't notice?

The boy's gloved hands touched the soft fabric of the scarf, bringing it closer to his face and snuggling into the warmth. "Where did you find it, comrade?"

" Somewhere, it doesn't matter." They put their hands in the pockets, looking around at the landscape around them. "Aren't you afraid of getting lost in the forest?"

Ajax let out a genuine laugh when he heard their question, as if it were something ridiculous. "Getting lost? I know my way around pretty well."

[Name] narrowed their eyes, firmly disbelieving Ajax's words. For them, the scenery remained the same, no matter how far they went — well, they didn't go very far at all.

"What? It's all the same, like... just trees and snow everywhere."

Ajax held back a laugh, as if what they'd said was completely dumb. "You're not from Snezhnaya, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Were you trying to hide it at all?" He couldn't help but laugh at the redness that appeared on [Name]'s face.

They were almost the scarlet color of their vision, which they proudly carried on a chain attached to their jacket. Pyro and Hydro, it was yet another thing that made them so opposite from each other.

"You know what, never mind! Just follow me." They extended a hand towards him, an almost forced offer.

Ajax hesitated, staring at the hand in front of him for a few long seconds before accepting it. He held it with some hesitation, not wanting to apply more force than he should have. He didn't mean to hurt, but he also had moments when he couldn't control his own strength.

They walked together through the snow, their steps in perfect sync. He noticed these small details as he looked down at the ground, thinking over and over again about an endless cycle. Sometimes, he just let that little silence take over his head, alone without direction, lost in the image of his own breath coming in the form of fog.

[Name] mumbled something, Ajax nodded, but forgot all about it soon after. They knew he wasn't paying attention, but didn't care, increasing the strength with which they held his hand.

"You don't like it here? Is that why you keep running away?"

"It's not running away if you come back.”

[Name] genuinely felt like punching Ajax in the face every time he opened his mouth and let out some stupid reason like this, but they would obviously leave it to imagination. The willingness wasn't lacking, but the courage was.

Perhaps if they were stronger, braver, they could say what they really wanted. But they weren't, and that kept them behind a fine line between the two, where Ajax always seemed to be in the front.

Everything in Snezhnaya, absolutely everything, filled them with an internal revolt. The cold that seemed to freeze them inside, the infinitely same path that seemed to lead nowhere, not being taken seriously — but for now, they would do anything to please those on top, especially since they were the ones in control of everything anyway.

"Don't ignore my question, go on. I know you heard me."

As soon as they arrived at the camp, they were greeted by an angry soldier with a large purple eye. That was the man Ajax had hit, and clearly he didn't look happy.

"Look, the bastard's really back," he said sarcastically, snapping his fingers. "Are you going to come at me for no reason like a savage again, like you did earlier?"

"Liar," they retorted, shaking their heads in denial and pointing a finger at the soldier, "you previously morally attacked Ajax, an exemplary boy..."

Ajax nodded, crossing his arms. Exemplary was by far what he was, but he had to agree with those who defended him. What he didn't expect was that they would retract their words soon after.

"...sort of."

"A... gentle boy?" They gave him a sideways glance, as if for confirmation; all he got back was a slight shake of the head.

"sort of..."

There was a lack of good adjectives to describe what he was — what he had become.

It would be less work if they just called him strong, but they didn't. They didn't want to reduce him to something. They didn't seem to want to reduce him to something the soldier in front of them already knew. Or rather, they didn't want to reduce Ajax to a simple strong boy.

They cleared their throats with a smile, grabbing Ajax by the collar, "Give us a second!"

Honestly, he was expecting a beating, not a strategy meeting behind a bush — not that he was going to complain, but at least he was hoping for a fight or something. His clenched fists contained the real desire to punch that soldier right in the face, but unfortunately he couldn't do that.

"'Sort of', really?" Ajax mimicked with a playful tone.

They rolled their eyes, fidgeting. "One of two ways: either I lie by calling you dumb, or I lie by calling you stupid!"

His jaw dropped for a moment. Was Ajax that stupid in their eyes? Not that he was the most self—controlled or straightforward person, but that dumb was an insult. "Oh, but I'm not dumb!"

"Perfect! Then you're stupid!"

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Just as they didn't understand him, Ajax didn't understand them one bit.

"Seriously, I'm trying to help you... but then you have to help me help you."

"I think you've got it wrong. I appreciate the attempt, not to be rude... but I don't think I asked you to help me in the first place." He tried to smooth it over somehow, with that annoying little smile of his.

They felt their eyes ticking just hearing him, but soon pulled themselves together and returned the smile with a sarcastic tone intertwined with the words, "Really?”

"Mhm!" Ajax smiled. "Then I'm going for it, you said!"

Ajax ran off, abandoning them behind the bush to do whatever he wanted. Training, fighting, getting into another fight... it was all very unpredictable when it came to someone as peculiar as Ajax.

[Name] stood there, letting out a sigh as he thought about how weird this boy was. But there was no denying that Ajax was truly exceptional at getting out of trouble, and that made them more and more curious about him.

Sometimes, before going to sleep, Ajax would close his eyes and think about the day he'd had. He would ponder how small details were so easily erased — he couldn't remember who accompanied him on the march, or the name of the guy he had hit. But it was okay, it was fine not to remember.

The important thing was to keep going, without wasting time, and to move on. Ajax didn't need anything else, or anyone else, just himself to become very strong.

"Here you go, redhead." He was called by [Name], who threw a pillow right in his face.

" Man, you really like throwing things at me, don't you?" complained, pulling the pillow away from his face, "Have I become a punching bag now?"

"You forgot your pillow. If you wake up with a stiff neck, you'll be complaining in my ear all day tomorrow."

"I don't complain—"

"You think you don't, but you nag like an old man!"

Ajax threw himself backwards, lying on the mattress hugging the pillow close to his face. He muttered irritably to himself something almost inaudible, something that [Name] could only wish weren't curses in their direction.

"Look, I don't know what kind of problem you have," Ajax began, rolling his eyes in frustration, but soon changed his tone to something more playful, "if you want to settle something with me, come fight. Unless you're too much of a chicken not to fight someone younger and stronger than you."

"Whatever" [name] grumbled as they adjusted the flame of the lamp with their vision, "I already know I have zero percent chance against someone like... you."

"Why, comrade? It's not like I'm going to kill anyone in sight or anything like that." He smiled, giving a slight chuckle.

"Yes, of course, and I'm a slime" [name] sarcastically answered.

"Honestly, I don't mean to offend you or anything..." Ajax sat up, running a light hand through his hair to remove it from his face. "But I really wonder how someone so coward got into Fatui. I mean, you're afraid to even hold your own bow."

[Name] listened attentively to his words, but kept their gaze fixed on the lamp in her hands. It was the only source of warmth between them at the moment, and they couldn't let it go out so soon.

"The reason I'm in Fatui..." Their eyes did not leave the flame in hand, carefully observing the orange color that reflected on everything around him. [Name] avoided this question whenever it was asked, because they knew they weren't strong, and didn't force themselves to be, but the truth was too shameful.

"I believe I am indebted to Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa. I must render my services for her generosity, and also... for this little thing here, which has guaranteed me everything I have now."

They picked it up and swung it around, the vibrant red gemstone seeming to emanate heat in a veritable mirage. Even though the temperature was almost below zero, it still retained its tiny hints of flame.

"Well, I guess that's it. I was born like anyone else, subject to mistakes and defects. But I don't think I'm worthless, after all..." they paused for a single second, letting out a sigh before continuing, "even doormats have their uses."

Ajax's face softened as he listened to them. He was speechless, sincerely mute without an answer to their words. No silly comment came to mind, just nothing. He waited a while in silence before finally asking: "Wow, that was something..."

"I think we've talked enough about me, what about you?" They asked with a little smile, and Ajax relaxed a little.

"About me? Hm... I think I have several stories! Like today when I punched that guy!" he cheered, throwing a fake punch in the air to represent his fight.

[Name] let out a simple laugh, amused by his actions. They thought the boy was a piece of work, silly but very funny; also very intriguing in every respect. At fourteen, joining the Fatui and doing well was something out of this world from everyone else's perspective.

"No, silly! I don't care about that sort of thing." They shook their heads in denial.

Ajax blinked twice, confusion clear on his face. "What...? So what do you want to know, anyway?"

They patted his head lightly, making Ajax turn as red as a tomato. It was unexpected, and he didn't know how to react to it, he wasn't prepared, but it wasn't that bad either. For the first time in a long time, Ajax allowed himself to receive a bit of care.

"Tell me, redhead," they called him by that silly nickname again, getting a funny look from him, "do you miss home at all?"

"Homesick? Hm... I don't know, I don't think so."

"Lying to yourself is always the worst kind of lie, so don't do this."

"If I really miss home..."

Home. Did Ajax really miss home? It was very hard for them to guess what was going through his head when all he did was fight and cause trouble. Although he had his ridiculous faults, there was still a gentle child inside, deep down.

Ajax was about to answer when it finally hit. It was the kind of question that nobody really asked in the Fatui. Everyone usually acted in accordance with their situation, there was no room in the Camp for whining.

The only tears were those that were left on the pillow, turned upside down as soon as the first rays of sun appeared in the morning. Hidden, sealed away from the gaze of others, while everything continued in the shadows.

He remembered perfectly the day he left home, beginning his career as a soldier.

Ajax checked his appearance one last time in the mirror. He didn't mind the state he was in, with a few scars on his hands and small scratches on his face from the mess that had occurred before he was enlisted — but he couldn't look relaxed either, Ajax needed to look presentable for some reason.

He could hear some whispering, not so quiet, of children behind him. He could see their reflections, curious as ever, but pretended not to have noticed, not wanting to end their failed attempt at spying.

When the clock finally struck a certain time, he knew it was time to go. Ajax had been preparing since the day before, when he received the news. It hadn't been easy to accept, but Ajax had no voice after everything he had done.

It was easy to feel the blood on his hands, even though he had washed them over and over again. While his combat skills were fascinating, it was frightening to see how easy it was to seriously hurt someone.

But at the same time, he felt the adrenaline of fighting pulsing through his veins, bringing with it an insatiable desire for battle. He didn't have a strong enemy, he didn't have anyone who could challenge his skills in this little corner of the world he lived in. Being the strongest shouldn't be so boring, at least not for him.

When he stepped out of his room, the first thing he saw were his little siblings. Their faces were full of questions, asking for an answer as to where he was going, why he was leaving and other questions that Ajax wasn't allowed to answer, nor was he in the mood to answer them.

This was what he really dreaded, the farewell.

He hugged each sibling as if it was the last time seeing them, his eyes filled with anguish disguised as emotion and tears that weren't exactly shed. He felt a knot down his throat — how hard it was to try and keep a smile, with such a conflicted feeling in his chest.

Perhaps that was the hardest part, because the younger ones had no idea where their older brother would end up. They didn't know that he was going where no other child should go. The only excuse he could come up with was something about a fantastic toy factory, and they bought it.

He swallowed it all, keeping his typical charisma in a comforting smile. Blindly lying to himself that all that was to come was just a distraction where he could meet stronger people, bigger obstacles and climb them without hesitation.

He ran down the stairs as if it was the last time, and it would be, because long gone was the boy who once smiled here. Hearing the children's voices saying casual goodbyes, as if it were just another ordinary day and that he would be back soon. Touching the banister, sliding along and feeling the texture of the wood, brought a little sadness. It was full of scratches and loose splinters, just the way he would remember it.

Taking a deep breath, he let the smell of wax invade his lungs for one last time. Little did he know, but this would become another moment for nostalgia in just a few days.

He hesitated to leave that warm place, so precious and cozy that it was the only thing capable of bringing a tear to his eyes after leaving the abyss. Not all things in life work out the way we want them to, and he needed to learn that, if only in the harshest way possible.

"Discipline" was what it was supposed to be, a form of punishment for all the trouble he had made. Like a staircase, Ajax climbed step by step in his acts of violence until he reached the irreversible point of his insatiable hunger for battle

But life always takes its toll. And for Ajax, life decided to give, demand and take away almost instantly.

Saying goodbye to his mother, who wrapped a red wool scarf around his neck, Ajax could only keep smiling. If it hadn't been for the hesitation and worry in her eyes, distressed that her young son would end up in a place like the Fatui, everything would have been so much easier.

"My little warrior," she called him, a cheesy nickname that suited the wild boy perfectly. While it was ironic in the past, given that Ajax was a big scaredy—cat, today it was just dumb, "Don't cause too much trouble... please."

The last sentence came in the form of a very faint whisper, which went almost unnoticed by Ajax. A real plea, almost desperate because of the lack of credibility he had at that moment. She didn't believe in him, evident in the exacerbated concern she showed in her mannerisms.

And if to comfort her, then Ajax was willing to put on his best and most convincing cheerful mask. He had always been a boy who loved his family, and that was something that not even the claws of the Abyss could take away from him.

"Yes, Mom."

Ajax did his best not to sound the least bit false when lying to his mother — He was, he couldn't deny that — But at least Ajax did it convincingly until he could gently slip away from her gentle touch.

"I'll take care of myself. Brush my teeth, comb my hair..."

"And eat well," she added, brushing the dirt off his clothes, making him more presentable.

"...And eat well, leave it to me!"

The woman sighed, letting go of the boy. With her watery eyes turned to the side, she shook her head as if to pretend that everything was fine — an attempt to make it clear that everything was all right, that Ajax shouldn't worry. But in the end, it was to comfort herself.

"Go..." she murmured with a sad smile, shaking her face slightly to let the tears go where they shouldn't, "go with your father before you're late, and don't stir up trouble, see? Your poor mother's heart wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I'll do my best, stay super strong and—"

He was interrupted by a small smack on the head from his father; it wasn't painful, not in the slightest... but it hurt for some reason, somewhere deep inside. All he did was look up, shrug and smile as usual.

"Let's go." That was the call Ajax had been waiting for to.

This was a moment of farewell, but he remembered that it wasn't eternal. Someday, he would return home with his chest puffed out and a huge, proud smile on his face — well, that's what he hoped for.

And so, the troublemaker set foot outside his home to become what no one, not even he, expected him to be one day. Looking back at his past, his younger self, fearful and innocent, disappointed but admiring, came to mind.

An icy breeze was the first thing that greeted Ajax when he opened the door and encountered the standard whiteness of the outside scenery. It was sudden, as if to extract any remnants of warmth he felt. People would say it was a good omen coming from the Tsaritsa, a sign of good fortune on his new path.

And it's what Ajax would like to believe.

"Ajax?"

Their voice woke him from his memories, bringing him back to reality. And then suddenly, he was back in that tiny tent, the one he had never left.

"Sorry. I spaced out, didn't I?" He covered his eyes with his forearm, tiredness was starting to set in.

"Just a little bit." [Name] decided to lie down too, covering themselves with their own blanket. Their hands then went to the lamp, offering it to him, "Can you use your vision to put it out?"

"Can't we just... not put out the fire?" Ajax asked weakly.

[Name] blinked twice in surprise, then cracked a smile to tease him. "What's the matter, are you afraid—"

"No, I'm not afraid of the dark..." he cut them off in mid—sentence, turning around so that he wasn't facing them. With his face covered by the pillow, Ajax lowered his voice. "But leave the fire burning, just for now... please."

It was the first time [Name] had seen him so vulnerable, with his guard down. With such a sincere request, they were at a loss for words — even though they really wanted to understand.

"Right..." They hesitated slightly as they released the lamp. "Sweet dreams, Ajax."

Without replying, they sighed. [Name] then put their head on the pillow, looking at him with a certain empathy. But then again, it was none of their business; he would tell them when he felt comfortable.

That night would be a long one, with the two of them lying awake without exchanging a single word.

Sometimes [Name] questioned their own common sense, especially when they followed Ajax's foolish ideas. Normally, the two of them would get into trouble and be forced to do the daily tasks because of it.

But after days of insistence on his part, they had finally agreed to go ice fishing in the middle of the night because it was the only free time the both had. Did they know how to fish? No, and certainly not on ice, but there's a first time for everything.

"Hm... I don't see anyone," Ajax whispered as he looked through a gap in the tent, making sure no one was awake at this hour.

"Hang on, I can't put these on!" [Name] tried to put their boots on, but couldn't make a decent knot. They were already frustrated, tying them any way and untying them when they realized it didn't lead anywhere.

Ajax let out a chuckle, their desperation to put on simple boots was utterly comical, "Let me help you."

"I can do it myself!" [Name] stared at the tangled shoelace with a certain determination, trying to undo what they had tied.

"You said that last week, yet you couldn't do it and we lost the training—"

[Name]'s face heated up in embarrassment. What he said was true, the two of them had missed it, all because they didn't know how to put on the boots offered with the new uniform, and had to clean the weapons as punishment — not that Ajax cared, it seemed he had only focused on admiring the swords and guns rather than cleaning them.

"Shh! That's in the past!" they tried to shut him up.

Ajax shook his head slightly. He knelt down and stared at the blind knot they had tied, taking his hands to the shoelaces to straighten out the mess. "I'll teach you, check it out."

He carefully tied their shoes, making a firm loop. It was just like at home, when he helped his younger siblings put on their boots to play outside. When recalling this, an unconscious smile appeared on Ajax's lips, followed by a giggle.

"Are you laughing at me?" [name] asked, offended.

"No—" Ajax looked up, and then laughed, seeing the funny look they were making. "Yes, I am now!"

[Name] grabbed him by the cheek, hurrying him out of the tent with them. "Stop laughing, they'll wake up and it'll be our doom!"

"All right, all right!" Ajax exclaimed, removing their hand from his sore cheek. "You talk just like my mother when she scolds me..."

[Name] looked at him, smiling before teasing him. "No way, I mean, I pity your mother for having to put up with a son like you."

Ajax's frowned, he really did look offended by what they had said. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I've always been a very well—behaved child!"

"Oh, sure... if you say so, who am I to doubt it?" they agreed sarcastically. There wasn't a shred of confidence in his word.

There were endless minutes of walking and exchanging small insults. Under the moonlight, the two made their way calmly, getting further and further away from the camp. If they were lucky, no one would find out that they had run away.

They would be fishing in a frozen lake, a large mirror that reflected the light of an aurora. It was a breathtaking sight, as if they could touch the sky, and they took a cautious first step onto the it.

"Damn!" They slipped, having only the instinct to hold on to something.

"Whoa! Watch it there, comrade!" Ajax helped them regain their balance, holding them up by the arms. He took slow steps backwards so that [Name] wouldn't slip again.

[Name] smiled a little awkwardly, embarrassed. "Thanks but... This ice won't break with us on it, right?"

Ajax shook his head and firmly tapped his foot on the frozen surface, which remained intact. "It's pretty sturdy, see?"

"I see." [Name] turned their attention upwards and admired the greenish glow again. " Snezhnaya's night sky is a fascinating sight, isn't it? Even though I've seen it several times, I'm always amazed by its beauty..."

Ajax had already seen the real starry sky, the true and uncovered light of the celestial bodies. To refer to this gloomy canvas as a "fascinating sight" is an absurd statement, for it is only an empty imitation of what lies beneath the veil of the Abyss.

"You're really satisfied with anything, huh?" Ajax scoffed, with a hint of a smile on his face, "It's just floating lights, it gets boring after a while."

"Is there anything that doesn't get boring for you?" [Name] watched as Ajax started to cut the ice in a circular pattern, which appeared to be a not too difficult job for him. "Are you sure this works? I mean, it's just ice... I don't know if there's anything alive down there."

Ajax sat, eyes fixed on the hole in front of them. He hugged his knees and remained there, staring at the immensity and waiting for what would happen next. "Don't worry, we'll catch one in... a few minutes, I think."

"In about how many minutes, exactly?"

Ajax looked up thoughtfully. "A few."

"I swear to the archons, if you made us come here for nothing..." [Name] grumbled, watching the boy next to them. The way he insisted on his ideas impressed them, at the same time as it irritates; but seeing that serene face made them let out a little laugh, "Never mind, I'm the idiot one for following you."

[Name] sat down next to him, resting their face in one hand as Ajax and them waited patiently. Those moments of serenity were the complete opposite from the battles that took place everyday.

They had already seen several "comrades" fall, their lives taken while protecting the Fatui's interests. Interests that were unknown and hidden from the vast majority, concealed by individuals whose faces were unknown to many.

The Harbingers themselves were a kind of urban legends who, while everyone knew of their existence, were enigmatic and symbolic figures within the organization.

"What exactly are we fighting for?" [name] asked. There wasn't exactly a reason, because no one ever said the real purpose of the blood shed on the snowy battlefield.

Everyone's admiration and fear of the Harbingers was obvious. But just as they were feared, the kind of people whose presence is everywhere, there were more questions than answers as to their real motivation.

The closest they had seen was the Fifth, Pulcinella. [Name] didn't understand why they had been placed in his division, being a complete fool who couldn't hold a weapon without getting nervous. Even more so when, in the same division, there was Ajax.

A confused expression appeared on Ajax's face when he heard the question. Wasn't the answer obvious? At least, it was logical. "For Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa—"

"No, I know that. I'm talking about why we need to fight, the purpose of it all... We have a mission in a few days, and we don't even know what they want from us."

"I fight because I'm strong, isn't that enough?" Ajax seemed genuine in his response, with no hidden ambitions behind the battles he fought against his opponents. At the end of the day, it seemed to be all about the will to get stronger and better.

"No, it's not." [Name]'s gaze was serious, demanding an answer that would satisfy their curiosity. For them, Ajax was an extremely difficult puzzle to solve — a young boy who possessed the strength of a monster. But at the same time, had a heart as pure as gold. "Your name... was inspired by a hero, right? Do you want to be like them, the hero of the story?"

Ajax nodded, giving them a smirk. He remembered the old days, when he wasn't the least bit brave or powerful, just a fearful boy with a sword and a dream. "I think I'd rather be myself. It's much more fun when you do things your own way, don't you agree?"

"Well... it is, it really is." [Name]'s firm gaze softened. "Ajax, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The boy froze in place. His mouth opened to speak, but the words he wanted to say didn't come out. He had no answer, even if he thought about it — Ajax simply didn't know.

"When I grow up..." he repeated to himself, looking for an answer, any answer. "I honestly don't know... I think I'll end up having to stay in Fatui."

"Idiot..." [name] grumbled, "I'm not saying you can't do what you want, but let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. Who would willingly stay in this hellhole?"

"Me," Ajax answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation in his speech, "If I go back home, I'll only make more trouble. Just the fact that I'm here makes life easier for everyone, and I can improve my skills."

"Of course you'd say that." They shook their heads, completely disapproving of his choice. They got up from where they sat, offering him a glance. "I envy you, you know that?"

"Hm? You..." Ajax looked up and pointed at them, then at himself. "...envy someone like me?"

"How can I not? You're strong, hopeful, stubborn and very proud," [name] listed, raising a finger for each adjective they found to describe him. "How can I not envy someone like you? You're like..."

"Everything I've always dreamed of being like."

They both uttered the same sentence at the same time, their voices becoming a unison sound that gave way to an awkward silence between them. Their eyes seemed to pierce each other, staring into the depths of the souls in search of some understanding.

"Trust me, I know what it's like," Ajax sighed, "to want to be braver, but at the same time to be too afraid of doing so."

Ajax turned his gaze back to the freezing water. Its darkness brought back vague memories of the abyss. The simple act of fishing was enough to push Ajax's mind back to the past, when he listened to his father's stories — maybe, just maybe, he really wanted to be as great as the heroes in them.

Ajax had once been a poor, fearful boy, terrified of the world outside, but with a spirit hungry for adventure. He had only a shortsword and a bag of bread — anyone could say that it was at that moment, before his fall into the confines of Teyvat, that Ajax began his transformation into what he's now.

"It's not a story I tell anyone, but I used to be a real coward," he admitted, letting out a sigh. "If one day you get stronger... like I did, would you duel with me?"

"Of course..." they smiled, making an x with their arms. "Not!"

Ajax's expression fell, replaced by that of an abandoned puppy. "But why?"

[Name] laughed at his face, crossing their arms. "Don't you remember when we first met?"

For them, the events that led to their current situation were clear as day. From before their enlistment, to the first day in the division.

They were born into a humble family, without any kind of comfort or privilege. [Name] grew up hearing all the stories about the archons and their extraordinary feats, about how lucky those who gained visions were. However, they never understood why their family admired such deities when all they received was misery.

Their parents, in a desperate act, borrowed a large amount of money, which they couldn't pay back. Disaster would be the appropriate word to describe what happened when the deadline for repaying these debts passed. As they were unable to pay, the two were killed by the debt collectors.

But [Name] always had somewhat of a way with their words, and that was the weapon they used to survive in a world like this. Somehow, they managed to negotiate their lives, in exchange for serving in the Fatui army instead of paying off an endless quantity of mora.

And shortly afterwards, [Name] were taken to the Cryo nation, landing in the middle of a terrible blizzard. If it hadn't been for the pyro vision they carried in their hands, [Name] wouldn't be alive to tell the tale, having become an ice statue.

And it was in an old and spacious office where [Name] took their first step towards their new reality. Quite nervously, their hands firmly held a document with all the information about their new career, leaving crumpled marks on its edges. [Name] had never thought they'd be offered to properly work, especially when the job was with none other than Fatui.

They were facing a short, stoic Fatui agent with a big nose and glasses. He seemed like a friendly fellow, but [Name] knew better than to trust someone who worked for those who had killed their family.

"What's your name, child?" asked the man in front of them, as he typed on a typewriter.

They had never seen anything like this, a machine that wrote for people? Unthinkable, it seemed magical, even. [Name] was so glued to it that, for a second, they forgot to answer.

"It's... [Name], that's all. I don't have a last name..."

The agent stopped his notes, giving [Name] a skeptical look. It was enough to make them nervous, unconsciously taking a small step backwards, lowering their head.

"Answer me..." The man went back to typing. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm from far away..." they sighed, murmuring, "very, very far...."

"Are you sure you'd like to join Fatui? You're still too young, don't you think it's a big responsibility?"

The agent gave them a gentle smile, different from the look he had given them before. It was as if he was truly giving [Name] a choice — but the truth was, if they didn't accept it, they would probably end up in the same shallow grave as their parents.

"Forgive me, sir, but it's not a question of wanting, it's a question of needing," they replied calmly, "someone has to pay these debts, right? Mora doesn't grow on trees."

[Name] wondered if they had said something wrong, since their tone hadn't exactly been friendly, mentally scolding themselves. But to their surprise, instead of getting scolded, [Name] heard a faint but present chuckle coming from the other person.

"You should thank Her Majesty the Tsaritsa for your kindness," he said, handing them the piece of paper he had been typing on, "how many people do you think have had an opportunity like this, to have their debts absolved and a job guaranteed?"

"Absolved?"

"Exactly, absolved. All we need from you, child, is your loyalty. I can see the potential, but it all depends solely on you." He pointed at their vision, hanging from their waist with a faint shine. "Surely, you're lucky enough to possess one of these."

For anyone else, receiving a vision is a blessing. However, being in possession of one is like having an eternal debt to the world. To be chosen is to be special, and to be special enough to receive a vision is to be distinct from the rest.

Sometimes it became a curse. One can no longer live like a normal person, because there will always be something that sets them apart from the rest. All those who are given one struggle in some way — Has there ever been a vision holder who truly lived an entire life peacefully, without any conflict whatsoever? At least in Snezhnaya, it seemed not.

"I... I accept..." Their eyes filled with hope, looking at their own name perfectly typed on the document. There was the real identity of the gentleman in front of them, revealed in a fancy signature, the Fifth of the Fatui Harbingers, Pulcinella.

[Name] signed their names in the blank space, sealing their fate within the organization. From that moment on, they would be part of the Fatui, just one more in the crowd — But if that was what it took to ensure their survival, [Name] would do it without hesitation.

The real issue, however, was on the first day of duty, and it had a name: Ajax.

[Name] had just put on their uniform, which was a little big for their size. But then again, there were none designed for a fifteen-year-old to wear, so they'd have to be content with what they had on hand.

At least the jacket they were given was comfortable, warm enough to block out some of the bitter cold that surrounded them each second. [Name] even looked like a proper person in it, which made them let out a little laugh.

However, it wasn't until they were standing in line in a meaningful formation that [Name] noticed a boy of a similar age to them. Red curls that stood out against the white backdrop, with a red scarf that was too long for his neck — perhaps they weren't completely alone in that place.

[Name] waited patiently until the time came for them to start training, watching him with eagle eyes, following Ajax wherever he went. When they finally mustered up the courage, they approached him and extended a hand towards him.

"Hello, I'm [Name],"

"Hey!" The boy grinned and shook their hands firmly. "I'm Ajax!"

"Well... looks like we're the same age, huh? How about we train together?" they suggested, thinking it was the best option.

"Sure!" Ajax nodded, putting the sword he was holding aside. "That would be, like... an invitation to battle, right?"

Technically, it was, so they just followed the his reasoning and confirmed it. "Mhm!"

"Then get ready!" he announced, preparing to throw a full punch.

[Name] didn't react immediately, surprised at the speed of the boy who had already set up his punch. "W-WAIT—"

Thud.

Complete darkness was how the first and last friendly match between the two ended, with Ajax knocking them out with a single punch. That's how [Name] would learn that fighting Ajax was a trap. However, [Name] wouldn't lie that at least it had been the best sleep they'd had in months — and the worst black eye they'd ever gotten, too.

"Teyvat to [Name]?" They awoke from their thoughts to see Ajax's hand moving in front of their face. He then tapped them on the forehead. "Is anyone there?"

"Oh, sorry, I got distracted. I was just remembering the punch you gave me." They laughed. "Speaking of which, you also punched that guy the other day too... what's with punching people, redhead?"

"I've already apologized!" His face heated up with embarrassment. "And punching is way more practical. You'd be shocked if you knew how strong a punch from me can really be, when I throw one for real!"

"Hm, sure, no doubt about it—"

"I got one!" Ajax exclaimed, trying to pull the line back on the rod with great difficulty. "A little help would be nice, you know!"

[Name] hurried, wrapping their arms around him and pulling back to bring the fish to the surface. But the animal wouldn't cooperate, even with the effort they made take it out of the water.

Ajax took a step back. "That was fast!"

"Fast? We've been waiting for almost an hour—" They slipped on the ice, pulling him and the fish along with them. In the end, Ajax and [Name] both fell flat, like two idiots.

[Name] looked at him, who was holding the fish in his hands while the animal struggled in them. It was a funny sight, which was enough to get a genuine laugh out of them.

"Haha..." they laughed weakly, then raised their tone, "Hahaha!"

Ajax, hearing the sound of their giggles, bursted into laughter. He laughed so hard that small tears formed in his eyes, "Hahaha... What are we laughing at?"

[Name] pointed at him, "At you, you fool!"

"Oh, really?!" Ajax stood up, bringing the fish in his hands near them. "Let's see who gets the last laugh!"

[Name] got up and ran across the ice, running away from him. They slipped and balanced, with an infectious smile on their faces accompanied by the sweet sound of their laughter, while Ajax chased after them with the animal.

It was moments like this that reminded them that they weren't adults, but two true children at heart.

At least once a week, Ajax and [Name] were sent on missions. They weren't often in charge of the more complicated ones, as they were still too young. However, for the first time, the two of them were allowed to take part in a more risky operation.

The two were supposed to stay with the older ones, but [Name] found themselves alone, having gotten separated from the rest by accident. In the middle of such a large forest, they could only hope that a blizzard wouldn't strike right away.

[Name] analyzed their surroundings, trying to retrace the steps that led them to nowhere and return to where the division had planned to reunite. However, they seemed to go round in circles, never reaching their destination.

That's when they noticed a coat lying in the snow. It was brown, very different from the Fatui soldiers' uniform, with a shabby finishing and a gross smell of blood.

Pow.

That's what they heard, a loud, familiar sound that sent shivers down their spines. Looking up, they saw a bullet hole in the tree, well above their heads — by perhaps two centimeters, they would no longer be alive.

"...!" [Name] instinctively looked for the source of the sound, quickly finding it.

Their desperate eyes met another's, which held no pity. Yet another soldier, wounded, carrying a gun and a tremendous amount of hatred — not everyone liked the Fatui, and not everyone had sympathy just because they were a child.

Frightened, [Name] ran desperately, followed by fierce gunfire that almost hit them. [Name] hid behind a tree and drew out their bow, but couldn't hold it properly no matter how much they tried, since it always slipped from their hands.

The enemy was indeed wounded, but armed and apparently experienced. The look in his face had been enough to send shivers down their spine, because when compared to them, who couldn't even use their vision properly, it was like facing a real monster.

"It'll be all right..." they whispered to themselves. "I just need to—"

[Name] heard more gunshots, too close to where they were. Something told them to run, but also to stay, accept the invitation and have a proper fight. If it was to survive, then [Name] would fight, they needed to.

[Name] couldn't hide forever, it wouldn't be right.

"Come on, you bastard!" [name] shouted, their voice echoing through the woods, as they aimed their bows in the direction of the enemy.

They used their vision and set the arrow ablaze, burning their own fingertips in the process. They didn't know how to control the force with which the arrow burned, but they knew it would hurt anyone who was struck.

[Name] clumsily launched the first arrow, dodging a shower of bullets headed their way. They hoped it was enough, that they had been able to send it flying at his face. But instead, the projectile pierced through his shoulder.

"Damn!" the soldier shouted, trying to reload his weapon while wincing in pain, but his ammunition had run out.

He came up and pistol—whipped them, causing [Name] to cry out in pain for a few seconds. The impact was so intense that they dropped their weapon and fell into the snow.

[Name] then felt the real despair of being weak. They could hear their hearts pounding in their ears and their eyes watering from the pain of the blows they received to the head, while blood trickled down their faces.

They grabbed his foot, applying pyro to their hands to make his boot burn along with it. When he fell, it was then that they saw their chance to stay alive handed to them on a platter.

They reached for the bow that lay on the ground next to them, firmly holding it anyway. Nothing mattered, only survival and that was all — they only needed to survive, to live long enough to prove that they were capable.

It didn't take much for one person to kill another, just despair. That feeling of helplessness and genuine dread, which would move mountains if necessary, was all it took to pull the trigger.

They violently hit the enemy in the face with their own bow, as if it were a bat. It was only when the return attacks stopped that they realized what they had done. The body below had an expression of terror, eyes wide as blood dripped onto the white snow, staining its purity with a crimson shade.

"I—I didn't... I did this...?" They stared at their bloodied hands, feeling their heart beating wildly against their chest. That's when, suddenly, an incessant urge to cough overtook them, but only blood came from their mouth.

[Name] looked down and realized that they had been shot in the chest. The bullet had gone through what seemed to be their lung, they didn't know, the adrenaline was hiding the pain for as long as it took. However, the spot hit was clearly a lethal wound.

They took two clumsy steps backwards, shaking their heads in denial. [Name] was too afraid to do anything like that, taking a life itself was too cruel an act for them, but it was done.

However, they didn't want to die as murderers, not really. So, with determination, [Name] decided they wouldn't die there.

They turned around and ran that time like there was no tomorrow, using every drop of adrenaline they still had in their bodies. [Name] couldn't see the sun shining, only the same gray clouds that covered the sky, which seemed to mock the fact that there was no light at the end.

Their only way out was to get to the camp, where there should be healers waiting for the wounded. However, it was difficult for [Name] to distinguish the landscape around them, especially in such a nervous state.

[Name] tripped over their own foot, losing their balance and rolling painfully down the mountain. They watched life pass before their eyes, each moment painful with the intention of just surviving, not living. Then they closed their eyes tightly, already bracing themselves for a more abrupt impact and accepting certain death.

They hit a tree, before rolling one last time to the bottom of the hill. Fortunately, or not, it was low enough for them not to die on impact — they did wish it had been stronger, ending it all quickly.

[Name] felt like a bird, floating in the sky with their eyes closed. They thought they had died because of the serenity felt for a few seconds, only to be crushed by the cruel reality. Their fall had been gently cushioned by the snow, but even with all this effort, they couldn't see the camp — which meant it had all been in vain.

Finally, the pain returned to their body as if it had never left. Breathing was difficult, with each breath being painful in the extreme, as if their organs were punishing them for still being alive.

"N—No," they sobbed through words, hot tears contrasting with the coldness that cruelly coursed through their veins. "I—I hate it... I wanted to die in peace, not like this... Not like this..."

Their trembling hands squeezed the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. [Name] didn't know how much time they had left, they didn't want to know either, all left to do was pray to Tsaritsa and beg for a little mercy, for a quick death if possible.

[Name] still hadn't paid their debt to Her Majesty, for the life they had been offered. For the bread to eat every day, for the tent they had over their heads, for letting them breathe, for letting them remain in existence, they had to do their utmost to repay all the favors with whatever they could.

For the gratuitously heavy insults that they had to swallow in silence because they were weak; for the mountains and snowstorms that brought them down along the way; for the disgraceful defective vision of theirs — or rather, they were the defective ones.

"P—Please..." [Name] begged the nothing, while holding their vision close to their chest, "if miracles really do exist…”

How many things had [Name] thrown away, when what they wanted most was to prove to everyone that, even if they were weak, they didn't need to prove anything to anyone? [Name] didn't know, only the bitterness of a wasted time remained in their hearts.

They let their tears fall over the flaming orb, whose glow no longer seemed the same. With one last kiss to the gem, a silent thank you, they began to weep for a life they were about to lose.

There would be no one to mourn their death, to lament the defeat of someone who had never once won. They probably wouldn't even have a funeral, but would just be buried somewhere like an animal. How terrible would it be to be completely forgotten, with no soul to remember their existence?

And Ajax, their only friend... finally acknowledged this fact. Would the boy be desolate? Grieve? Or would he carry on as he always seemed to do?

They regretted not having told him things in life that only they could say. They could only hope for the best, that he wouldn't take the news that badly — but at the same time, there was a small, selfish desire for him to feel their death. Not because [Name] wanted him to suffer, but because that way they would know that they mattered to someone.

[Name] recalled the memories they had made with him, like when they first met, when they went ice fishing a few days ago. The image of how they ran and laughed with him that night, as if they weren't the next ones to die, was fresh.

At last, their body felt light, receiving a moment of tranquillity reserved for the end of endings, when [Name] felt nothing but the slow rhythm of their heartbeats, fighting for a lost cause, as if they didn't have two holes in their chests.

"I was truly... useless until the end, wasn't I...?" [Name] murmured what they knew would be their last words, a vent to themselves and to the world. With the last beat of their hearts and the cessation of their breathing, snowflakes touched the now freezing skin. "I hope I have served you well... Your Majesty..."

They died in silence, without disturbing anyone.

Meanwhile, with the mission over, Ajax found himself extremely bored. Contemplating the pure white snow stained with blood as he returned to camp had already become a habit of his.

He could not care less that his face had a few small scratches on it. Though, he had to admit, that any kind of mission made him tired. But before he could rest, he found a place to rest. So Ajax began to look for them throughout the camp, without any success in his search.

'They must be receiving medical care...' He thought, as he made his way towards the tent where the doctors were staying.

It was a small space that was often crowded with the number of people wounded during missions. Finding any specific person was difficult, even more so when he was being pestered to be treated right away because he was younger.

"Are you sure you don't want to go first?" one of the doctors asked, placing a hand on his bruised face.

"No, I'm fine!" Ajax smiled. "I'm just looking for..."

For some reason, his eyes fixed on a particular corner of the tent. Away from the rest, it was where they put the bodies of those who had perished in combat; but Ajax had never taken much notice of it, so why now?

He approached slowly, in silence. Ajax felt an uncharacteristic nervousness come over him, running through his veins. The chills he felt seemed to swallow him up from the inside out, it had been a long time since Ajax had felt like this, as if something was screaming "don't go there, stay here" and attempting to keep him from discovering the truth, as he approached a particular cloth.

He stopped in front of the covered figure, noticing something sticking out of the cloth. An object, a... vision. But the only ones in the entire division who possessed one were him and... [Name].

Terror was too little to describe what overtook Ajax, who hesitated to lift the cloth covering the individual's face. He wished he wouldn't hear his head and believe that they weren't the dead man in front of him.

With trembling hands, which he tried to stop, Ajax lifted the fabric slightly. And that's when the ground really seemed to crumble beneath him — they were dead, [Name] was truly dead.

Their skin was so pale and cold that it scared him a bit. But what particularly caught Ajax's eye was the sheer amount of blood they had lost, as their face and hair were completely stained a deep crimson red; and no one had bothered to close their eyes, devoid of life and its particular glow. Now, they were just a pit of darkness that matched his own.

"..." Ajax just stared, unable to say anything. Everything was trapped inside, without him being able to express it.

Ajax tried to tell himself that he didn't care, that they weren't really friends, just work colleagues. But the sadness in his heart betrayed the stoicism he tried so hard to maintain.

Ajax closed their eyes gently and kissed [Name]'s forehead gently before covering their face with the cloth again. It was an action that any mother would take on seeing her child dead, but they didn't have one to weep over their death — and if there wasn't one, then Ajax would play his part in showing respect for them.

Ajax may even have changed when he fell into the abyss, becoming a maniac for fighting and confusion. But at the end of the day, he was human just like everyone else.

Two days later, the tent they shared was cold, without the heat of the lamp to warm Ajax up, as it had already gone out with the icy wind coming through the gap in the entrance.

It was [Name] who kept them warm in the middle of the night, using their vision to keep the fire burning. And that was just a bitter reminder that they were no longer there.

The others had taken away everything that was theirs, accommodating what would be the belongings of a new tentmate, who would be arriving in a few days. It was as if they had ceased to exist altogether.

Ajax wouldn't mind being hit in the face with a pillow if they were the ones to hit him, with that smile, with that irritating tone of voice of theirs that Ajax recognized from afar. He wouldn't mind being called "redhead" again, if it was them calling him that.

"Ajax?" The voice that called him from outside was familiar to Ajax. It was the Fifth.

Ajax promptly got to his feet, walking outside the tent and greeting him politely, a treatment he reserved only for The Rooster. "I'm here, sir."

"I heard that one of your companions fell in battle... a shame," the Harbinger said, as he searched for something in his pocket. "Well, here it is..."

The man handed him a gray envelope, a letter. In the corner was written in almost illegible handwriting the names of the sender and recipient, respectively: [Name] and Ajax.

"Thank you, sir," he nodded, holding the envelope tightly in his hands.

"You were both very similar ages, you and..." the Rooster paused, having forgotten their name.

"[Name]." It was the first time Ajax had said their names, having called them "comrade" all the time since they'd met. Honestly, it hurt a little, how difficult it was to utter a simple phoneme.

A few minutes later, Ajax said goodbye to the Harbinger and entered the darkness of the tent again. He left out a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was written inside that envelope.

Ajax could no longer remember what The Rooster had talked about, only that the exchange of words had been short, like all the others before. He didn't even have the mind to think about it now, he could apologize later if he forgot some important information.

But right now, the only thing that mattered to Ajax was [Name]'s letter. He opened the envelope, trying to be careful not to tear it, but in the end he did. Ajax strained his eyes to read what was written there, in a handwriting as bad as theirs.

Dear Ajax,

Should I start a letter with "dear"? I don't know, honestly, I have never written one. Well, if this letter found you, then that means I must be dead by now. I'm sure you're glad I did, as you'll now have the whole tent to yourself.

I've written this because I know that, in life, I might not be able to say what I think. I believe we're already friends, don't you too? That's how I feel about you, I think you're my only friend, and I've been very happy about that. Thank you, thank you very much, for the joyful and humorous moments you've provided me with in this little end of the world that is Snezhnaya.

I asked you the other day if you felt homesick; you may deny it, but I can understand how you feel, away from everyone you love in a place like this. Know that whatever may happen, I believe that the same people you miss feel the same way you do.

Don't listen to that little voice in your head that whispers "you're nothing but trouble", it's stupid. When I look at you, I don't see a troubled boy, but a boy with the heart of another. That day we were late for training, you could just as well have walked away and let me be punished for being late, but you didn't. We cleaned all the weapons by ourselves. We polished all the weapons alone, for hours, and you never complained. Why was that?

I don't know, but I'd like it to stay that way, so keep going! I'll be cheering you on from wherever I am, because you're the best warrior I've ever had the honor of meeting.

I end this letter with my admiration and gratitude to you; and never forget: we have our own time!

With much care,

[Name].

A single tear fell onto the paper, right below their name, accompanied by others that would soon form a hot waterfall in his eyes. Ajax didn't know how to respond to this, covering his face with the paper, as if he was embarrassed to end up being seen like this

Perhaps it was for the better, a reminder that life really wasn't fair, and that Ajax had strayed from the path he was on. He didn't want to care so much, but at the same time he did.

Ajax wanted someone to comfort him, to tell and reassure him that it was all right, that this sort of thing did happen, but at the same time, it didn't. It was hard, very hard, to face it. It was difficult, very difficult, to face the loneliness that he tried so hard to hide behind brute strength.

Anyone who saw him like that would doubt that he was the same person who ravaged the battlefield with his bloodlust, the boy who seemed like an uncontrollable monster with an indomitable spirit, causing trouble wherever he went.

But for one last time, in the darkness of that tent, he allowed himself to be... Vulnerable.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Poet on the Broadcast

This is another one based on a song; it's a more sappier side of Alastor. It was also written for a close friend, @willowaudreykeyes. They gave me this bittersweet idea in an RP that we are working on. I hope you all enjoy it! Song: Rule#46 - Poet By Fish Inside a Bird Cage

TW: AFAB Reader, death, self sabotage, hallucinations, poor living experiences, violence, Hurt-> Comfort

Time was a cruel mistress indeed, an unrelenting thief that snatched away the very things we hold most dear. With every tick of the clock, she mercilessly stripped us of youth, laughter, and loved ones, leaving only echoes in her wake.

You were no exception. You bore witness to Alastor's fall—the haunting shadow of his demise forever etched in your memory. The freezing winds whipped through the snowy woods as you ran, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Hounds barked, their growls reverberating through the trees, a sinister chorus to the chaos all around you. Gunshots rang out like thunder, each a heavy reminder of the danger that lurked just behind you. Every breath felt like a precious treasure, stolen not just from you, but from the man you loved, who had been a light in your dreary life.

Time granted you fleeting moments of respite, allowing you to catch your breath as you evaded the hounds as your partner wished in his dying breaths. Yet, it also forced you to confront the harsh reality of survival, time and again brushing against death for the sins of your beloved. For the enemies he created and formed in the years he stood by your side.

You lived a modest life, flitting between the opulence of high society and the grit of the streets. Each day was a delicate dance, a balancing act between the world of privilege and the shadows of hardship. But with every birthday that passed, a bittersweet yearning filled your heart—a longing to reunite with Alastor. 

Then, just as that desire reached its peak, you closed your eyes letting time take you to the great unknown with the man you lost years ago. Except time no she is a cruel mistress indeed. You were awoken in a different body, younger, in a time that felt both foreign and familiar.

How cruel is time, to gift you this love only to rip it from your grasp again and again? How many lifetimes must you endure, each one marked by the haunting memory of him, always just out of reach?

In this second life, you became a PhD student, a mind lost in the pursuit of knowledge, but also a vigilante in the shadows of the city, fighting for those who had no voice. Yet, the memory of your beloved Alastor lingered, a ghostly echo of a man who was both psychotic and completely yours. 

As the years drifted by in this new existence, the lines between memory and imagination began to blur. Why had you been granted this second chance? Was it a blessing or a cruel curse? Was the vision of Alastor beside you, whispered in the dark, merely a figment of a child’s imagination, a way to escape the unrelenting horrors of your reality? 

As your birthday came and went once more, a darker fate awaited you. You found yourself thrust into a hellish red landscape, a cruel irony considering you had committed no sins. Roaming the streets of this infernal realm, you quickly adapted, your years spent fighting alongside Alastor sharpening your instincts, allowing you to rise swiftly within the ranks of hell.

Then, four years into your torment, you heard a broadcast that sent shivers down your spine. The Vee's were in an uproar, and you felt an inexplicable pull to the source of their distress. You tuned in, and the voice that emerged from the static struck a chord deep within you. It was a voice you had longed for, a melodic tune you remembered all too well—a voice that transported you back two lifetimes ago, when you would sit by the window at dusk, eagerly awaiting his return.

Could it be? That past life, once dismissed as mere fantasy, began to feel so so close to real. The stories he spun during that late-night special were ones only you knew the other half of, secrets woven into the fabric of your shared existence that you feared were long forgotten to time.

With your heart racing, you began to search for him, following the trail of his voice to a hotel for Hazbins seeking redemption. There, amid a myriad of misfits longing for a second chance, was a figure that made your heart leap—a deer demon who looked so painfully familiar yet foreign, a man shaped by the passage of time.

What is time, if not a relentless force that dulls the senses yet sharpens the soul? It is a cruel teacher, reminding us that every moment counts, that love, once lost, can sometimes be found again.

Driven by hope, you joined the redemption program, longing to get close to the man who resembled the Alastor of your memories. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and as a year slipped by, you found the courage to ask him the question that hung in the air like an unspoken promise.

“Are you Alastor, from New Orleans, 1920s, engaged to Y/N?” The question trembled on your lips, heavy with anticipation. You braced yourself for the lash out, for the fierce anger that had always danced in his eyes.

 It was the very fire that had once ignited your passion and fear alike. But instead of a storm, you were met with a soft, bewildered stare. The smile that tugged at his lips was both awe-inspiring and heart-wrenching.

“How do you know about Y/N? Answer wisely, or your screams will be broadcast next for all of hell to hear.” His voice was low, edged with disbelief, and for a moment, the deer demon seemed almost vulnerable—a rarity in any world you knew him in.

“I am Y/N…” Your voice quivered, a fragile thread of conviction woven with longing. You hoped he could see the truth in your eyes, but as his expression morphed from shock to confusion and then to a flicker of spite, you understood that time was still playing its cruel game.

“No, no, you aren’t! Otherwise, you would have found me ages ago!” He stalked over to you grabbing yout collar. He growled in frustration and his grip tightened around your throat, lifting you to eye level, his horns casting ominous shadows. “How dare you pretend to be her? Who told you about that part of my past? Who do you know?”

Steadying your breath, you summoned every cherished memory, every detail only you could recall. The words poured from your honey-coated lips like a sweet symphony, and as he slowly let you down, a fond smile broke across both your faces.

“Lastly, you thought it blasphemous that I would put ice, honey, and lemon in my tea when you made it for me, telling me I might as well not be drinking it anyway.” As you spoke, the memory unfolded like a picture book bare before you, and before you knew it, he had pulled you into a tight lasting embrace.

Was this it? Had time finally allowed you to win? Had you endured enough in this limbo of two unfair lives? This embrace realigned everything that had felt lost for so long, a warmth spreading through your very being.

“I waited for you! I waited for years—ninety long years, my dear!” His voice trembled with emotion as he produced a collection of scripts, each one a fragment of his past, a thread leading back to you. Stories from the early days to the most recent broadcasts, all crafted to help you find him.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Ali… I truly apologize. I would wait a million years to stand beside you. But I am not who I once was. I am broken, scared, and changed by the lives I’ve lived. Would you really want that beside you?” Insecurities threatened to seep into your resolve, but the deeper you delved into the truth of your rough pasts, the more you realized how time had shaped you both.

He looked at you, confusion etched on his face, and then he laughed—a sound free of static, pure and unfiltered. Gently, he pulled you closer, his sigh a whisper of shared pain and understanding.

“You are stronger than you know. When you’re ready to let that strength show, let me guide you. You have every right to be scared; I have walked those same shadowed paths myself. When you’re ready to let go, I will be right here. I will always wait for you.”

At his words, tears welled in your eyes, a torrent of emotions spilling forth. No matter the hardships time had imposed or the years spent apart, you recognized that this love spanned lifetimes—enduring, unwavering. If he was willing to wait for you, then you would fight for him, heart and soul, against the cruelty of time.

Thank you for the support, my Moons~

[scoobyrooster1]

She's Mine [Part 3]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: As Qimir’s newly sworn acolyte, you were supposed to be learning the ways of your master, far from prying eyes. But in a desperate attempt to escape the Jedi and Republic Space, you find yourself entangled in the dangerous mission of a mercenary crew. A hyperdrive malfunction forces the crew to land on a remote planet for repairs, leaving you stuck in the middle of a perilous scramble. With time running out and the mission to Canto Bight hanging in the balance, your loyalties—and your survival—are about to be tested like never before. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence, trigger warning!sexual harassment, very protective Qimir Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] 

She's Mine [Part 1] 

She's Mine [Part 2] 

She's Mine [Part 2.2]

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

To your surprise, the ship actually made it to the small green planet in one piece. The journey had taken far longer than usual without the hyperdrive, but you were just grateful that the systems needed to fly the damn thing were still online. Otherwise, you'd have been left drifting in space, dead stick and helpless.

All of this meant more time in republic space with an item that people would kill for.

Great.

Looking to distract yourself from the unsettling dream that had left an insatiable itch in the back of your brain, you'd jumped into the engine compartment. The walls were lined with a maze of conduits and cables, all neatly bundled but seemingly endless, carrying power and data to every part of the ship. Scanning the machinery around you, all the correct lights were on and flashing. You flipped a few switches, listening to the ship’s steady hum in response. Your eyes fell to the compensator gauge... right there. You loosened a few bolts and opened the compartment, removing a singed piece. Shit. It was fried.

"Its the inertial dampener." You yelled up. "We're lucky we weren't blown half way to hell."

It was true. You all were very lucky.

Ians eyebrows plucked up.

You continued. "If we don't replace this servo." You waved the piece in the air. "Then it'll be our last hyperspace jump ever."

"Whatsssss a ssservo?" Kiro inquired.

"A servomotor?...its a part of the stabilizer... the stabilizer controls temporal displacement."

Kiro only stared at you. Nothing occurring in those reptilian eyes.

"The stabilizer is built into the dampener and turns the time it would normally take us to travel from point A to point B into what seems like an instant to us."

Still more silence. Shaun and Kiro just looked at eachother.

"So, what exactly do you two do again?" You questioned.

Ian practically burst out laughing. Kiro and Shaun exchanged amused glances.

"Kiro here," Ian began, "is my muscle. He goes where I go. And well, Shaun keeps an eye from above."

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to process the words. "Right... So you two were what—knitting while I was getting my ass beat by a Twi'lek?"

Ian’s face turned a violent shade of purple, laughing even harder. He wiped tears from his eyes, finally catching his breath and returning to grabbing his small satchel. "Thanks to them, the other thugs were intercepted."

"Other thugs?" you mumbled, confused.

Ian nodded, still chuckling. "Rod noted the guy that walked up to you, and there were others. We took care of it. Well, minus the Twi'lek... she actually knew what she was doing."

"And you forgot to mention all this?" you asked, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Hey, it didn’t seem pertinent at the time..., we’d all had one hell of a day."

"Right," you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

Ian just blinked and continued gathering his things. "So you know your way around a starship... luckily I know a guy who might have what we need just a few clicks from here. Kiro lets go."

"An inertial dampener isn't an easy fix."

"I know sweetheart... thats why were here."

"Where are you gonna find another servomotor."

You were met with silence and the opening of blast doors. Not paying you anymore mind, Ian treaded down, Kiro and Shaun trailing behind him.

You only sighed leaning against the circuits. Contemplating your next move. You had left your master errily sleeping on his cot. He was most likely still down and you would do anything to avoid any conversation... especially after that dream.

You hoisted yourself up and out of the engine compartment.

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

Ian eyes tracked you wandering behind them.

"You tagging along or something?"

You looked in the general direction of the ship. You almost expected Qimir to be there standing on the ramp. You could swear you sensed his presence or at least his shadow.

"I need some fresh air. And I don't trust you enough to not screw this up."

He shrugged. "The more the merrier I guess."

As you walked through the grassy horticultural fields of maker knows where, you swatted at the gnats buzzing near your face. The sky was darkening, and you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being too far from the ship. You eventually reached the edge of town, being far more urbanized than you expected.

"This way."

Ian led you to a small hut along the bustling main street, its exterior cluttered with old droids and rusted ship parts haphazardly strewn about. You could only hope that somewhere inside was the part you needed to fix the dampener.

A Quarren male stood behind the desk cluttered with tools and machine parts.

"Ian." He drawled through his beak like mouth.

"Heelim... my good friend."

"What trouble have you brought to my doorstep this time."

Ian only smiled in response.

----------

"An inertial dampener? Thats not an easy fix."

You gave Ian a look. He was obviously ignoring whatever I told you so face you were serving him.

"But if theres anyone who would have the part I know it'd be you."

"So. You just thought I'd have a servo lying around here?

"To be honest you were the closest option."

He chuckled in response.

"I am sorry my friend but I have no servos matching the one to your specific freighter."

Ian only bit his tongue and slapped Heelims arm in response.

"Thats quite alright. We'll figure it out my friend."

"Well if you need anything else feel free to look around."

Shaun had wandered outside already. Kiro tapped the machinery next to him with his claw, creating a sharp clang that rang through the store.

You toggled with some of merhandise around you, none of which could replace a servo.

"You work for Ian?" The Quarren questioned you.

"I owe him."

"Ahhhhhh... unfortunate."

You chuckled in response, looking around you realized you were the only one left in the store as Ian turned his heal.

"Thank you for your help."

The Quarren nodded his head.

-------

You found the three of them standing in a circle, deep in debate over your dwindling options.

Stepping up, you interjected, “So, he doesn’t have one. Maybe someone else does.” You tried to keep your tone hopeful, though you knew the answer.

“There aren’t any other sssellers who’ll have what he doesssn't," Kiro replied, his voice a cold hiss. "Heelim is the bessst.”

Ian shrugged, eyes on the ground but clearly working something out in his head. “Who said anything about buying one?”

You cut in quickly, already guessing where Ian was headed. “I saw a blue A-23 freighter in the yard. If I remember right, it should have similar parts to your ship.”

Without waiting for a response, you rushed back inside the shop.

“Do you know the owner of that light blue A-23 freighter outside?” you asked the shopkeeper.

He gave you a suspicious look, eyes narrowing, knowing exactly why you seeked the information.

You sighed, frustration creeping in. “Please.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you. Ten long seconds. You seized on whatever flicker of empathy might have passed across his face.

Finally, he relented. “That ship belongs to Laro Kiggs. He frequents the bar down the street. You never heard this from me”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, turning to leave.

Before you could make it out the door, his voice stopped you. “Traveling with Ian makes unsuspecting people accustomed to looking over their shoulders... but I see that’s already second nature to you.”

His words caught you off guard, hitting closer to home than you expected.

“I’ve had to be," you admitted quietly.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Finding real safety, real solace, in this system or the next... it's a rare gift. But it exists. I was lucky enough to find it. Understand—it’s out there."

You smiled faintly, understanding what he was implying and stepped out into the street.

-------

You rushed back outside, catching them mid-conversation.

Kiro hissed, “Getting onto a freighter here is easssssy enough.”

“I found the owner,” you interrupted, catching their attention. “He should be at the bar tonight.”

Ian finally looked up. “Alright. Shaun, you and y/n will keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t leave the bar. Kiro and I will handle the ship. I’ll signal Rod to expect another half-hour delay.”

Shaun frowned. “Are you sure about this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Ian shot back. “The nearest planet’s days away without a working dampener, and our buyer’s going to be on Corinth wondering where his precious book is.”

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

Ian and Kiro took a speeder to the parked ships on the outskirts of the town. Ian would board the ship while Kiro stood guard and hopefully return with the servomotor you needed. You and Shaun stationed yourself at the local tavern.

The bar had a certain allure to it, bathed in warm, low lighting and filled with the sound of glasses clinking and conversations blending into a constant buzz. Then again it wasn't any different than any other bar in the galaxy.

You leaned over the bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention.

“Heyyy, I scratched a really nice blue freighter yesterday—parked by the market. Any chance you know the owner? I feel awful about it.”

The bartender didn’t even glance up. “Laro Kiggs. He’s right over there with his buddies. Black jacket.”

You followed his gaze and spotted him.

The bartender leaned in, giving you a knowing look. “If he hasn’t noticed yet, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Thanks a ton,” you replied, voice sugary sweet, but entirely fake.

Walking back to Shaun, you whispered discreetly, “Black jacket, at your 12 o’clock.”

Shaun nodded.

It had only been three minutes since Ian entered the ship when his voice crackled through your coms.

It’s locked.

“What?” You struggled to keep a straight face.

It’s fucking locked. The compartment’s locked.

“Shit.”

Yeah. Shit, Ian echoed, static in the background. Who the hell locks their hyperdrive compartment?

“Maybe someone who doesn’t want their shit stolen by criminals?” you shot back, trying to think fast.

The window was closing, and you had to act quickly.

“Okay… Plan B. Ian, stand by.”

You noticed Shaun standing up, heading directly toward Laro. Instinct kicked in, and you blocked his path with a hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“We need that key,” he said.

“And what? You’re just going to knock him out in the middle of the bar? Start a fight and get a mob chasing Ian and Kiro?”

He stared at you, unamused. “Got a better idea?”

“Actually, yes. Grab a speeder and stand by for the key.”

He shot you an incredulous look but headed for the door without another word.

What? Ian’s voice stammered in confusion through the coms.

You closed the channel.

You chugged your drink, steeling yourself as you walked up to the man. Adjusting your blouse, you reminded yourself that you could do this.

With a confident tap on his shoulder, you leaned in. "I—oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone I was looking for."

He turned, eyes sweeping over you with a lingering gaze. "I can be."

You laughed, taking a few steps closer, playing into his interest. "Well, are you gonna buy me a drink?"

A sinister smile tugged at his lips. "Why, of course."

It didn’t take long to get him another drink deep, his inhibitions loosening with each gulp. You used the opportunity to subtly feel for any sign of the key you were after, disguising your search with drunken leans and falls against him. Your hand brushed something square in his left jacket pocket.

"You know," he whispered, leaning closer, "we could always move this to my ship for more privacy." His hand slid across your thigh, the gesture bold and invasive.

You forced a playful smile, letting your right hand toy with his hair while your left hand moved towards his torso. He was too focused on your touch to notice your fingers slipping into his jacket pocket. You felt the cold metal of the key and smoothly withdrew it.

Too easy.

But before you could pull away, his hand moved higher up your thigh, edging dangerously close to your belt.

He went on. "Its only a few clicks away... if we are indeed two ships just passing in the night."

Before you could react, someone snatched your glass from the table.

It was Qimir.

Without a word, he downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, his eyes fixed on you.

"Looks like your drink's run out," he said coolly. "Let's get you another."

The guy beside you grumbled, glaring at Qimir. "Hey buddy, we were talking."

Qimir's eyes flicked to him, full of indifference. "And now you're done talking." He slammed the glass on the table. His voice was low, but it was enough to silence the man.

Qimir pulled you away, leading you toward another section of the bar.

You yanked your arm free and made a beeline for the exit.

Shaun waited on a speeder outside. You shoved the key into his hand beckoning him to get to Ian as quickly as possible.

"Here. Get this to Ian. We'll meet you back at the ship."

Shaun only nodded and revved the speeder, disappearing into the night.

Qimir had caught up to you outside.

Turning to face him your mouth ran away from you.

"What the hell was that?" you snapped.

"You were obviously uncomfortable," Qimir replied, not bothering to look at you.

You crossed your arms, huffing. "I can handle myself."

"He's a creep."

"So are most of the men in there," you shot back, shrugging off the situation.

Here’s a refined version of your scene, enhancing the emotional intensity and flow:

“This is exactly what I said would happen,” Qimir stated, his tone clipped.

“And how’s that exactly?” you shot back.

“You getting yourself into something I have to pull you out of.”

Fury surged through you, and you slammed your fists down, your face flushing with rage. “Don’t make excuses. I never asked to be pulled out of anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, next time a guy grabs my ass and I need your help, I’ll be sure to let you know first, Master.”

Qimir’s jaw tightened, clearly taken aback by your words.

You yelled, “If you had pulled me away just seconds earlier, you would have messed everything up!” Your body surged forward, hands outstretched.

In a burst of anger, you shoved him.

You actually shoved him.

He took it, standing firm, still caught up in whatever wave of misplaced duty he felt. His patronizing gaze made you want to slap him.

Screw this, you thought.

Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe you just needed more of it.

You stomped back inside waving your hand at the bartender. "One flameout please."

Your eyes scanned the bar for Laro making sure he was staying put. There he was already looking you up and down from a distance. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the bar.

The bartender caught your signal for another drink sliding a small shot of red liquid down the bar towards you. You gulped it down, throwing a few credits on the table. You could only hope that Ian had grabbed the servo by now and had gotten the hell out of there. But before you could enjoy the moment of solitude, Kiggs approached again, his drunken friends laughing and egging him on from a distance.

"Let’s pick up where we left off," he slurred.

"Let’s not," you replied flatly.

"C’mon, not interested anymore, I’m a great dancing partner," he said, stepping closer, his breath a noxious mix of alcohol and something far worse.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. His hands wandered, groping you in a way that made your skin crawl.

You shoved him hard... far harder than you had shoved Qimir earlier. The force of it sent him stumbling backward a few feet. But it only seemed to make him angrier. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he started to march toward you again.

Good.

You could use a fight to blow off some steam. You readied your hands to connect with his jaw, eager to pop a crack at this entitled prick.

Before you could react, Qimir appeared in front of you, faster than you’d ever seen him move. His arm shot out, his hand wrapping around the man’s throat with terrifying ease. The man gasped, his hands clawing at Qimir’s grip, but he was choking on more than just the pressure of Qimir’s hand—there was something more. The air seemed to be ripped from his lungs, as though Qimir was suffocating him without effort. Laro’s friends were all drunk, but not quite enough to miss the warning signs. They kept a safe distance, clearly sensing that Qimir wasn’t the type to be messed with.

Qimir leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, but you were close enough to hear. "You touch her again and I'll kill you."

He released the man, who dropped to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. Qimir didn’t spare him another glance, turning to face you, his eyes unreadable.

You stared at him, still catching your breath from the sudden surge of adrenaline.

"Unbelievable." You stormed past him exiting the bar speaking into your coms. "Ian you might wanna put a rush on that servo."

The bar around you seemed distant now, the noise fading into the background as you focused on the path ahead. The liquor warmed your skin making the cold air unnoticeable.

For a moment, you wanted to argue—wanted to tell him you didn’t need his protection. But the way he had reacted, the intensity in his eyes, told you something different. Something deeper.

You had made it back to the ship.

You walked into your room. He followed.

You paced around until you stopped to look at him.

He was... withholding himself.

"I need you to give me a reason" He said softly.

"What?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back there and put a hole through his skull."

You closed the distance between you, your face inches from his. "Because if anyone has the right to, it’s me... yet here I am." you almost spat the words at him.

His eyebrows, once furrowed in anger, relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied with your reason. But tension still radiated from him, his eyes blinking rapidly, betraying whatever calm facade he wished to portray.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you falter, but you gathered your resolve, summoning the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Why did you do that?” you demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“What?” he replied, feigning ignorance.

“Back at the bar. Why did you do that?”

“What are you talking about, y/n?”

You scoffed, disbelief washing over you. You were damned if you’d ever get a straight answer from him.

“Forget it... you should have just stayed at the ship.”

“That guy was harassing you,” he insisted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to threaten people.”

“I have a responsibility to you. You are my acolyte.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make me yours,” you emphasized, each syllable sharp.

He went still, as if the weight of your words hit him. But the understanding in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had come.

“You’re drunk,” he said, turning away to focus on the clutter around his cot.

“You would know,” you shot back, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I guess we both do stupid shit when we’re drunk.”

He spun around, eyes narrowed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone turned venomous, defensive.

“You know exactly what it means,” you bit back, refusing to back down.

Suddenly you heard the blast doors open and close.

"Time to go." Ian barely managed the words as he ran through the hallway passing your room.

You broke away from Qimirs space. Rushing after Ian.

"So I'm guessing Laro made it back to his ship."

"Yep." Was all that Ian revealed.

You caught up to him snatching the servo out of his hand.

"Get to the cockpit. Get us in the air. Rod and I will handle the drive."

Ian didn't have time to argue.

You got to the engine compartment to find Rod already prepping.

Jumping down, you almost landed on your arse.

Damn those drinks.

The ship started humming and rattling as you guessed you were now in the upper atmosphere.

You took the piece and fitted it to the stabilizer grabbing the wrench to bolt everything back in place.

"That damned thing better work." Ian yelled.

You secured the servo and closed the dampener.

"Punch it." You spoke through the coms.

You felt your hair rise as the hyperdrive kicked then lit up. A small energy surge knocked you back. A loud vroom sounded in your ears as you slouched against the wall.

You took another deep breath, steadying yourself and closing your eyes.

You were in hyperspace... safe. At least for now.

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

Thats all folks! Let me know in the comments what you guys think! The next few chapters are going to get intense :)

[sparklesdogs]

A Drabble for TF: One

First off: A warning.

This drabble WILL contain spoilers from TF: One. Everything that is a spoiler will be under the -keep reading- line. This, unfortunately, includes the summary because I couldn't think of any other way to describe what I'll be writing about.

And hey, if people enjoy this, maybe I'll write more? Can't help it, I love this type of AU and it was the first thing that popped in my head. Starscream's appearance SLIGHTLY made that AU-itch happy.

Summary: Something that D-16, Elita One, and Bumblebee didn't realize when they encountered the mecha-deer herd on the surface was that they had a care-taker.

Characters: D-16, Bumblebee, Elita One, Orion Pax

Background: In this AU, D-16 was more rebellious and participated in the race himself. Orion Pax does not exist in the mines. More will be explained in the drabble.

Without further adeu:

Cybertron's surface was truly beautiful. Despite the fear they initially felt from the unknown and the constantly shifting surface, when you took a moment to just look, you could see why everyone used to live there.

Mountains grew and disappeared in a blink. Old structures were hidden and unveiled in moments.

Wild turbo-foxes and mecha-deer hunted and grazed in the rolling fields. Cyber-wolves prowled along ridges, seemingly able to tell how the terrain would shift before it even began.

This was the surface that greeted D-16, Elita One, and Bumblebee after their train crashed.

Despite their initial crash from the unexpected tsunami of metal, it was stunning.

D-16 idly recalled the ancient texts that had been smuggled to him during his few breaks or right before recharge. He knew that, once, Cybertronians didn't need to hide underground. Back in the times of the original thirteen Primes, Cybertronians had been divided into tribes.

The ever-graceful Seekers. The quick and musical Polyhexians. The stern and no-nonsense Praxians. The violent, but mostly misunderstood Warframes. The Pullers who relished in hauling large objects long distances. And so on and so forth. All nomadic, following the mechanimals that drove their way of life. All avoiding each other. All destroyed in the original Quintesson War.

It was assumed that large cities like Iacon and Kaon arose when the thirteen joined together and ushered the remnants of their tribes underground. They each recognized that their own tribe would only be able to survive through co-operation. And so, the surface of Cybertron was abandoned.

But as the small trio stared out over the vast open spaces, D-16 couldn't help but wonder why nobody had ever bothered trying to return. Yes, Sentinel Prime had said that the surface was uninhabitable and it was too dangerous, but had no one ever actually tried to return?

Maybe it was because mechs started emerging cog-less. It was dangerous enough for mechs to survive WITH their cogs. What chance did a cog-less mech have? If they couldn't transform to speed away from danger or to evade a rapidly-changing landscape? Somberly, D-16 brushed a servo over the empty hole in his chest. Right where a cog would be in a mech that had one.

"They're so.. elegant." Elita One suddenly whispered, yanking D-16 out of his thoughts.

"And friendly too!" Bumblebee chuckled, somehow having gotten close enough to one of them to swipe a servo over it's flank. Even more surprisingly, the mecha-deer didn't move away or even seem startled by the action. In fact, it turned to nuzzle it's face into Bumblebee's servo and started snuffling around, as if looking for a treat. They reminded D-16 of the cyber-hounds that only the most elite of the elite owned in Iacon.

"Yeah. How.. strange." D-16 said, shifting forward to hesitantly pet the mecha-deer himself. Despite being made of metal, they were surprisingly soft on the head and wiry on the rest of the body.

Unbeknownst to the trio that was now excitedly petting the mecha-deer (who was greedily lapping up the attention), they were being watched by someone far less friendly.

A pair of light blue optics glared at the group from where they were hidden in a nearby uncovered set of ruins. The figure that belonged to the pair of optics had darted into the ruins to observe the group as they got closer. Their eyes darted between the herd and the group, clearly wanting to keep an eye on both.

Suddenly, the mecha-deer jerked their head into the air, no longer responding to the petting. The other deer and the hidden figure shortly followed. One after another, the lights on the mecha-deer's antlers started flashing red and they bolted. They scattered in many directions, much to the frustration of the hidden figure. If only he still had his cyber-hound. Now, it'll take forever to round them back up himself.

His optics snapped to the trio who was just staring after the herd. It was only when they finally turned around did they finally see the danger looming above the clouds. Poor mechs seemed confused and startled. They began to run towards the ruins.

How ineffective, the figure thought. Why not just transform and speed away?

As the group raced by, the figure reached out and grasped one of them (the small, yellow one he silently noted) and pressed him up against the wall. The other two (the pink one and the gray one) quickly took note and, even though they glared at him in suspicion, followed his action.

D-16 observed this new figure with suspicion and surprise. The figure was primarily red and blue with silver accents. The most startling part of him were his light blue optics and splatters of.. paint? that stood out against his primary colors. He had seen blue optics before, yes, but none as bright and light as these. The strange paint was mainly splatters of purple, green, and white. They marked the mech in elegant (but messy) swirls and symbols he had never seen before.

The mech put a digit up to his intake, indicating that the group should remain quiet. Since this new mech seemed to know more about what was going on than they did, they listened. Even though they didn't need to breathe, every bot present held their breath.

Suddenly, one of the mecha-deer darted into the ruins. Almost immediately, a red light beam from above began to track the deer. The new mech's engine started to quietly growl before he quickly cut it off. After a few seconds of tracking the deer, the small red beam burst into a blinding light. Each mech was briefly blinded. When they looked back where the deer had been, the deer was gone. What looked like bits of metal and energon were sucked into the sky and the air returned to silence.

A small distance from the ruins, a red grid emerged from the sky. The red and blue figure's optics widened and he began to usher the group towards one of the buildings that still had enough of a roof to cover them. The trio saw where he was shoving them and nodded, quickly and quietly starting to run. They had to avoid stray red beams occasionally, but Elita and D-16 made it over quickly.

Bumblebee, on the other hand, was slower and more clumsy. The red and blue figure clearly slowed themselves to keep pace with the ex-trash-sorter, but was looking more and more nervous as the grid grew closer.

Finally, clearly fed up with the slow pace, the figure swooped up Bumblebee into a bridal carry. Both Elita and D-16 were shocked that the small, lithe figure was able to lift Bumblebee, let alone without slowing his pace!

Right before the grid reached them, the figure lunged towards a narrow beam that covered a small patch of ruins. The figure clutched Bumblebee as close to himself as possible and both they and Bumblebee closed their optics as the grid slowly passed over them.

When nothing immediately happened, they cracked their optics open just to see as the grid completely passed over the beam. The figure kept Bumblebee clutched to their chest until the beam finally disappeared. Even after that, they continued to hold Bumblebee for a few kliks before letting the small yellow bot drop to the ground with a yelp.

The figure then turned very angry optics onto the entire trio.

"Who are you?! Why are you here? Do you have any idea what you just caused?! Now I have to move the herd again!" The figure started shouting, pointing his index digit at the group angrily.

Unfortunately for him, the trio did not understand his language at all and only heard what sounded like rather irate clicks, whistles, and beeps. When he realized that the group was just staring dumbly at him, his irritation turned to confusion.

"Um, hello? Do you understand me?" He asked, optical ridges furrowed.

"Uh, hello!" Elita, ever the go-getter, responded first with a wave. The figure simply tilted his head and managed to look more confused.

"Great. Cybertronians who don't speak basic." He mumbled to himself.

"Do you speak Iaconian?" Elita asked.

"I-uh-cone-ee-an?" The figure asked, testing out the word in his intake.

"Yeah, Iaconian. You know? What everyone in Iacon speaks." D-16 piped up. The figure's gaze turned to him.

"I-uh-con?" The figure asked, olfactory sensor scrunching as if the words had a nasty smell.

"Yup! That's where we're from! Iacon!" Bumblebee cheerfully added.

"So I'll take it that you don't speak it based on your reaction to words most mechs know." D-16 stated gruffly. The figure may not have known what he was saying, but he could certainly understand the tone. His gaze turned to a glare again. As he opened his intake and raised his index digit again to likely start lecturing the other, Elita piped up.

"Ok! How about introductions? I'm Elita One." She said, pointing to herself with a smile. "Elita One!" She repeated.

"I'm B-127 or Bumblebee, but I'm trying to make Badassatron a thing!" Bumblebee said. When the figure only looked at him more confused, he chuckled and rubbed the back of his helm. "Bumblebee." He said simply.

"D-16." D-16 said simply. When three sets of optics turned to him, the figure responded.

"I'm named after the constellation Orion, but sometimes the others call me Pax because they say I'm generally one of the peaceful ones." The figure chuckled to himself.

"So.. Orion Pax?" D-16 asked. The figure- newly dubbed Orion Pax- shrugged.

"Close enough."

Ending note: Whew! That's all I've got. Let me know if this sounds interesting. I welcome all critiques and comments. Will probably post this on my AO3 in the morning too. Probably.

[thatgirloncrack]

Before you attack me in the comments just hear me out.  I just reread both the Silver Eyes trilogy and GGY and I couldn’t help but think of the possible parallels between the main four of SET and the main three plus Cassie from GGY/Fnaf sb. If you include Gregbot, and Beckory as canon you start to make connections between the two stories as well as the characters.

Charlie=Gregory John=Tony Jessica=Cassie Carlton=Ellis

Imagine, if you will.

Gregory would be the stand in for Charlie. After the bite of 83, Willam Afton becomes consumed by grief just like Henry was and swears to “put him back together.” And therefore builds Gregory as a replacement. But soon afterwards Afton tricks him and locks Gregory away so he could live his new life as Dave Miller, only to be killed by the missing children.

Years go by and the Pizzaplex just opened. Gregory was discovered by Glitchtrap/The Mimic, and manipulates him into thinking he’s his dad (Willam Afton) to get him under the control of the GlitchTrap virus.

Then the canon events of GGY happen. The only difference is that afterwards Gregory realizes that Afton was a bitch and didn’t love him or CC and that GlichTrap had been lying to him about who he was. He escapes the Pizzaplex with Tony, but then returns in hopes of destroying Glichtrap.

Then the canon events of Fnaf SB and Ruin happen with the three star ending and elevator ending being canon. Gregory moves in with Vanessa, Freddy, and Cassie because her dad went  “missing”.

Years pass and the main four are in high school now. Tony and Greg start dating just like John and Charlie did. The four stupidly visit the now old Pizzaplex, only to be met with terrifying monsters from the TOTPP series.

After their version of The Silver Eyes and The Twisted Ones happens the main four plus Vanessa and Freddy return to the old Pizzaria once again to discover that the GlitchTrap is still present within the Plex. But more surprising, that Rab is alive. After being freed Rab escaped into the Plex’s database to escape deletion. And then worked to build a new body so he can once again serve GlichTrap who he still believes to be his dad (Willam Afton).

The fourth closet happens nearly exactly how it canonical happens but with the Fnaf SB/GGY cast. Rab completes his new body, and sets out to find the ones who nearly destroyed him, Gregory and Tony. Rab would be the replacement for Evil Charlie/Elizabeth Charlie btw.

When Gregory and Rab face off it’s at the old pizzeria in the bottom of the Plex. Gregory leads Rab to the knock-off scooping room from Ruin to get rid of him. This ends up in Gregory also being injured and getting Fredbear (their version of Charlie’s Ella doll) scooped out of him. But unlike Charlie he ends up surviving because of plot armor.

I don’t have anything else besides that, so if you have anything you want to add feel free to leave a comment. Also, if you want to use this as an AU for a fanfic or something go ahead :)

[canihaveacalmtime]

Ever since you were born, you can only acknowledge your mother existence and for your whole childhood, you wonder who or where you father is.

Your mother doesn't really do her job or take responsibility of being a mother, she just always busy working and working all day so you eventually learned to cook for yourself and occasionally for your mother too. That 'occasionally' soon turn into daily when you turn 6, you take all the chores ,cleanings and despite all the spat, slaps or shouts and curses your mother aim at you, you still love her because she is your mother.

One faithful night, your mother didn't return home and as you wait for a few hours turn into a few days and then weeks and then months. She completely abandoned you and you thought of how such a fool you are. You then leave the small apartment, the place you once called home, and went out to the society and try to make a living, to survive.

----------

For 6 years, you worked for a small food restaurant owned by a middle aged woman because she took you in back then. The two of you runs the restaurant and really just having a really happy life together as the two of you.

During dinner time of a saturday evening, as the restaurant closed, you and the woman sit down and watch the news as the two of you always do but today news does make a big change to your life because in 6 years, you saw your biological mother again on the news, next to a man who you don't even know but looks so much alike you, getting interview by the news reporters.

To your horror, they were actually finding you. You see your mother cry, you hear how much she misses you and pray for you to come back to her as the man comforts her and that makes you wonder, why now?

Why bother finding you now?

You hope that everything just happened wasn't real, that you were just hallucinating and nothing will happen, no one will come and take you away, pray that you won't have to see her again.

You just never expected them to appear at your restaurant the next week, forcefully taken you away from the only person you consider family.

In the next few days, you find yourself being treat so tenderly and lovingly by your biological mother who had never done something like that before, you also got to know that the man who always with your mother is your biological father. It all happened so fast you wish this is all just a nightmare and you will soon wake up in your room back at the restaurant and get to hug your considered family but as days turn into weeks, it hits you that you would never get to return there as you have been begging them to just abandon you and let you return to your considered home but they only smile and tell you that "It's going to be alright, sweetheart".

After a whole year, you find yourself in your rebel stage and finally take action to try and escape this giant mansion. Your attempts were just to outrun the bodyguards, sneak out from the kitchen backdoors to climb over the fences. Attempts soon become more bold like run off during a family hangout, knockout some maids to steal their keys, actually hurt yourself but the one attempt that finally snap your parent limit was when you jumped from your bedroom balcony which was on the third floor.

After that? There's no after that because when you recovered and returned 'home', you will be constantly feed food with a bit of 'medicine' to make you sleep faster after every meal. Your mother would be by your side every single moment there is to be and your father simply add more security to the place to make sure nothing like that attempt of your ever occur again.

Even if you try to rebel again, they would just lock you in your room and worst, break your legs so that you won't even have a chance to make any escape or attempt to fight back.

"Mom and dad are sorry for doing this to you but aince you keep on hurting yourself, we have to take measures into our hands. Now you will be just safe and sound in our care, alright my love."

----------

A/N: This must be the one I hate the most istg 😞

[ge]

do you think some part of chung myung was relieved that the mt hua sect needed his interference immediately to survive, because that means he doesnt have time to sit still and think about how every loved one hes ever had died or disappeared in a war literally yesterday. sucks for him but we keep it moving haha! [ears ringing

could u imagine how much it would suck if everything turned out fine but he still came back..mt hua wasnt in ruin, its teachings werent lost, plenty of disciples filled it walls, money was flowing.. then what. what would he have to occupy his time and mind with besides thinking about everything he already lost and has no chance of getting back. at least when mt hua was nearly decrepit and forgotten he had something to do, always making moves, had disciples to train and people to con, always thinking of new ways to return it to its former glory days but without that, what on earth would keep him going.. at least with mount hua being the way it is canonically, he can come to terms w the fact that he's there for a reason and wont allow himself to wallow in misery for any longer than he's allowed to but damn... what if... what then....

[bronzebtch]

like yes. the concept of making a general fantasy verse or an AU of any kind is appealing until you have to take rhea out of the context of her original verse and then u have no idea who she is 🧍‍♀️

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…