#and not leave until i ski at least one expert run

[snowtamale]

...

[gigglealongshiney-shadow-watcher]

.* English and human versions are translated as best as possible, but the actual forms of speech and words used may not be completely accurate due to Alien and God forms of speech not being fully translatable. Due to this, some parts may feel strangely human or out of place, the translator apologizes in advance.

(OP: cheeky joke about translating media between countries aside, yeah I can't make you decipher fake languages, or write out all of the Hive's complexities in this post without seriously destroying the fun fast pacing of the fights, so I'm simplifying some things. At least for now, you can request deep dives at any time! Please... In particular the way Felicia uses bird calls and animal sounds. Her vocal chords are modified an extra amount and is layering different sounds over each other with a generally dominant animal sound. She is also creating brand new sounds nothing else has made which adds to her unsettling inhumanity. But to get a more accurate feeling, feel free to play a bunch of bird and animal sounds all at once to simulate it. Throw in some screaming while you're at it. You do you man idk. Enjoy!)

Trigger warnings for gore, war battling but more, child soldiers, blood and guts, bombs/bombing mentions, limb loss and regrowth, and possibly upsetting imagery.

If a reader does not think they can continue to read, ask me for a summary. Author is not an expert in military combat, despite her brief stint obsessively researching the US military system for a fnaf war au. Author has forgotten most of that info. Author isn't sure all the triggers are needed but wants to cover bases. Author is sorry for so much preamble when only 1 or 2 people care about this. Author does not expect this much returned.

Does not contain (just some specifics not everything not included here will show up): SA, Torture, animal death, details of how the weapons work because I don't know that, poison.

Opal landed in the barricade Phillip made and they hugged, passing anything they needed to instantly and directly. Maybe that wasn't strictly needed, it also gave a flicker of comfort. No one else needed to know that.

Whispers of small scale bombs on the way in the skies. They're preparing to kamikaze with the drones once they run out of explosives, until they've called in reinforcements to replace their lost soldiers. They'll have more firepower if our soldier converts are right. It's time to bring it down.

The human sneak teams have entered our inner city-side, we need to make examples soon, I've called the cameras into their location for the next film. Running low on syringes and pill capsules.

Hive eyes are in positions to snipe any incoming high officers if possible. Do we call on the reserve hive forces now?

They have their entrance planned, we'll have to take the blast route.

They smiled. Out loud Phillip quietly said, "I fire you drive?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Does it make you feel powerful to answer?"

"I drive, you'll fire." They let go of each other and looked around the stockpile of throwables. A shrieking eagle call paired with an elephant trumpet brought them to Felicia. She had a language all her own on top of the hive's connections. She barked the duo's orders over the hive. "Supplies on the way! Praise Pokotho and run! Run! Move everyone! Destruction over conversion from now until the fall! All wounded hold, drag, and lure as many humans within the radius as possible! Prepare the reserves!"*

Felicia dove to the left and tore an arm right off the human trying to sneak attack her. Using it as a club she knocked it into his knees and bit through his left carotid artery, leaving him to bleed out. Opal and Phillip restocked their belts with guns and anything nearby, got the location of the tank, and sent out the waves to get everyone into the right places. Delaying the sending of some for the mid traveling points.

"Lights..." Phillip bent into a running position.

"Camera..." Opal secured herself back to back with him, legs bending back around his waist and braced on the harness on their bents. She readied her guns.

"Action!!!!" Felicia screamed and took the lead.

They were off! Phillip running this way and that almost unpredictably through the thick of the fighting, Opal covering their back and sides with her shots to at least slow the humans down. He bent down while running to toss things from the ground perfectly into Opal's hands, which she shot, threw, or passed to the other hive members they passed by. The songs sang in their ears like a floating river of stars above their heads*!

Felicia cleared a path on the front, or cleared in general with how much everyone was changing direction. She was a distraction path forger combo. Ferocious and anti-human, she'd been outfitted with the tools to bring carnage.

Her hands were adorned with strong razor claw guards that wove around her fingers and gave her traction on all fours, and direct weapons to rip the emergency armor some of the soldiers wore, it cut through skin easily, but not smoothly. The longer they were in use, the more they roughened and the more they hurt. Her teeth, unlike the rest of the hive were sharp, a mix of needle points with serrated sharkish triangles*. She was the only one in full flexible armor, especially around her neck. Rather ridiculously, she had bright pink coquette shoes, bows on the top and all, with foot and calf straps holding them to her feet, with the thick shiny soles covered in dried blood, viscera, and dirt. They had grips on the toes and aggressive outsoles that clashed with the cutesy style of her footwear.

Phillip lost his balance when a civilian who ran into the fight's sawed off shotgun blew a good portion of his leg free. The two jumped and turned midair, Opal taking over the running half, and Phillip protecting her and leveling the rifle he'd picked up in the switch. He hit the civilian with a few shots and focused on the surrounding humans. Opal twisted and leapt and ate up the distance between them and the tank that would seal fates. Phil used the rifle to knock over a few people and tossed it in time to pick up a blade. He sliced the broken leg off and let it fall. The empty space was regrown and pumping with Blue blood in seconds. They had a God on their side.

The blade was embedded into someone's arm, he didn't see if it was hive or human and the next gun was steadied on his free arm to fire (Not how you should do it). Recoil was dealt with by Opal flutter hopping to keep her balance. He imitated a whistle and Felicia fell back to thin out the growing forces behind them.

She tackled humans and tore them apart with the wild animalistic fire of someone deeply hurt in her previous life. It was so different from how the rest of the Hive acted, so off beat and passionate about her delight in killing the humans. She'd perform enhanced acrobatics that led to her firmly crushing the head of one combatant, and jumping to claw at another before landing on someone else's head. The dead were her bullet sponges and her dead weights to shot put into people.

A ring formed around Opal and Phillip in front of them. These people who retreated near the tanks were smarter and better than most of the others, a smart choice, if heartless. Something the two sides had in common. It was also exactly what they wanted to happen. Opal waited until the flying drone camera was on them, and the two swapped places again, but this time Opal extended the long blades in her shoes. Otherwise normal combat boots, if adjusted to go farther up her leg, the blades were comfortably secured under the treads to keep her on balance. Phillip got ready and ran straight for the biggest one in the ring.

Predictably, oh so predictably the ring closed in on them and the guns went up. Phillip spun around and around at inhuman speeds, and Opal treated herself like a blender to cut them down. She held her legs out for the maximum distance, angled them to try and get under chest plates, and even swung her legs up enough to get at someone's collar. Phillip jumped and twirled and ran in elliptical motions to keep the majority of the bullets off his legs. The glamor shots were amazing.

They separated to finish off the soldiers who didn't run away fast enough or were still alive on the ground. Opal made it a point to pirouette and land with the blades stabbing straight down into one of the bodies. She grinned and tiptoed a step or two before she retracted her blades to hide in her shoes. Felicia was already taking care of the people in the tank while others were distracted. The go ahead was called, and they held hands and ran side by side to their goal.

Felicia tossed the remains over the side and ran off to get ready for the next entrance. The humans who noticed them freaked out and tried to stop them from taking control. Too late, Phillip and Opal reached into the memories and training of their converts to pilot the very, very special tank. The M1 Abram took its aim, and an AMP round blasted across the battlefield directly into a building.

Their battlefield was a mix of the largest park in the city and the surrounding streets. The building was an apartment complex that was mostly empty, except for the few who were trapped by the hive. down it toppled. Soldiers trapped in the debris zone screamed and clawed their ways against the hive holding them there, the unsaveables of the hive easily giving themselves to cripple the enemy. The vehicles parked near it were crushed, battered, and some exploded and damaged the surrounding transports.

The human's couldn't retreat anymore.

Part 1 of their plan was complete.

Continue from this the Opal vr John fight. Winner was John.

(This takes place after the grounded event. So the continuity is a bit out of order. )

Trigger warnings for child suffering, delusional rambling, bleeding out, and possible disturbing imagery.

Opal's body pushes blood to heal the open wound, but her arm can't heal around the knife's touch. It's killing her. Without any fallback systems in place for her biology made by a God, there's no way for her to recover. Her legs weaken, and some snap off to prioritize the major wound. They crash to the ground loudly. No one dares leave their homes.

Her eyes wander, but there's nothing worth focusing on down there. How long before he comes to drive the knife into the rest of her body? She dropped the lady, and he said he'd hurt her worse than anything she felt if the lady died. He couldn't be dead, because he said something after he fell.

(Cut for length) for the singing, tunes inspired by nowhere king, candy hearts and paper flowers, and some of my own tune.

Opal

Phillip

How long did he want her to wait for? Maybe she should try to...run? With what? Did she have legs? She looked for them, and it looked like she did, but they felt like nothing. They weren't real anymore. That's nice, she doesn't need to think about legs anymore.

The blue soaks into her body from the puddle and comes back out. She watches it grow. It's pretty, and it glows a little, like a melted star. Is she full of stars? They must've melted inside her. She laughs and tries to touch the stars with her fingers, but the hand isn't listening to her right now.

Everything is dizzy and spinny. She doesn't want to be on the merry-go-round anymore. It's making her sick. She turns, and more stars leave her mouth. It hurts, stars hurt when they leave like that. The star puddle is cold. It feels good, she's too melty inside. Maybe the stars can help her up into the sky when they leave.

This must be how stars are born. They die and turn into rain bits. She liked cold rain, colder than the water cups in the kitchen. Then they come back out and have to fly away again. They'll want to take their mama with them. She didn't want to be a mama, but her stars make the meltedness in her hurt less, so it's ok. She can be their mama. The star puddle isn't flying away yet, maybe they're too scared.

"Iss...ok...t' fly." She could fly. When did she fly? Flying was fun, right? She was small, small babies flew away to neverland, someone said that once. Was she small enough to go to neverland? The stars could come with her. The stars will take her there. "T'nk you stars."

She's breathing for some reason. It rocks her head a little. It's nice, so she keeps doing that. There's a rocking chair in auntie's room that makes a little sound like a donkey. Auntie is dead now, like everyone else. She feels sad. Is anyone still alive, or is she all alone? They're waiting for her so the games can end and they can go home.

She tries to remember a name to give to auntie. It's not there. None of the names are there. Where did her name go? Someone lost their name in a forest. She lost her name there too and now she couldn't say her name or the forest girl's name. The only name that she could find was...

Phillip. That was a special name. It makes her head hurt less to think about. Phillip. Phillip is a special name that matters more than anything. Why is it so important? "Please...tell me..."

Phillip sat on the rocking chair with her. Phillip found crayons she could see. Phillip didn't laugh at her for not seeing anything but what the big people said was blue and yellow. Why wasn't everything blue now? Phillip was a special name. A forever name. He has her name and she has his. She hopes he brings her name back, she wants to see it again. He must miss his name too. He gave it to her, and now it's smudged and cracked. She got it all dirty when... when... She wasn't up here before, but where did she drop the name for it to get so messy?

Phillip would be mad she got his name dirty. He says it's ok when she drops her drawing in her food. Names are like drawings too. You make one and it's yours but you can give it to other people. Phillip drew lots of pictures with her. He doesn't draw anymore. Would he be mad?

She closes her eyes. The star puddle hasn't left yet... Phillip is a good name, it's an important name. Phillip said they'd get old together and go to Florida, his mom said that's where the old people go. Florida had alligators, those were cool. Maybe Phillip is in Florida waiting for her.

It feels good to close her eyes. It's good so she does it. The meltedness in her isn't as bad anymore, the stars are taking it out of her. They're so nice to her, it was too melty inside for her. It's good on her...what? Skin, that's what it is.

Phillip. It's important. He's important so important, where is he? She's shaking, and now the star puddle is too cold. It hurts! She tries to get away from the star puddle, they're mad at her because she didn't give them attention. That's what bad mamas get, pain for being bad. She's bad at being a mama, she doesn't want to be one at all.

"Help me..." She starts to cry. Why does it hurt? Her face is cold, and it's a bad feeling. It's so confusing, it's so dark, where did everything go? It hurts so much, he's back. He's come back and stabbed the knife in her eyes and it's dark forever he's going to stab her forever and she's in the dark now-

Something touches her arm. "You need to open those to get out of the dark." It's Phillip... he taps her eyes. She tries to open them, and it's hard to see anything. Her eyes hurt so much.

"Hi there." He's laying next to her on his chest, frowning at her. Phillip looks just like he does on the rocking chair.

"H-hi." She tries to focus on him.

"You got beat up again. I'm sorry I wasn't able to fight off Glen this time, I thought he was grounded." Phillip looks over her at something far away. "...that's not true, is it? That happened a long time ago, Opal. That's not why you're crying. You got hurt really badly today." Opal...that was her name...right?

Opal, the name still didn't feel right, reaches for him. He was important, but something was still missing. Why was Phillip so important? "It hurts..."

Phillip takes her hand and pulls her up to lean on the entrance to the roof. "It's all done now, no more make believe. Now we can go home and play something else."

"What do you mean?" Opal pulls away from him and falls back on the floor. Something is wrong. Something is bad. "What’s make believe?" The words feel familiar but they don't belong. "No, no it's wrong."

Phillip stares at her with disappointment. "Why can't you just play along? Why can't you just accept this? Look at me. I'm here! I'm perfect looking, isn't that enough for you? Why isn't this good enough to just go along with?"

Opal chokes and coughs, more blood pouring out of her mouth before she could ask him what's going on. Phillip growls and hits his open palm into her chest and makes her cough even harder. "Stop!"

"All you had to do was say ok! That's why you always got hurt! You can't just accept it, can you? You always need to know more, and it hurts everyone else! You couldn't just be happy with your eyes. You couldn't just be happy being Pokotho's special girl. You couldn't just be happy with your body and you made a mess of everything! It's all your fault! You know it is!"

Opal sobs and curls away from him. "I don't understand, what are you saying?"

Phillip rolls his eyes and stomps on her knife broken arm. "You're the worst friend in the world, Opal. Why do you get to fade away in a friendly happy little daze and I had to die that day in the battle? Why did you get to live? Why did you get to leave and do all those wonderful things when you don't even care enough to stay put? It's stupid! I hate you, I hate you because you got everything you wanted and I didn't get anything. You're the worst."

Phillip turns and stomps away. "What did I- why- wait..." Opal cries and curls into a ball. Her arms are too big, and her legs are too big and she's all alone. Opal is alone and Opal will always be alone. Opal doesn't deserve Phillip. Opal is useless.

The time ticks by, Opal and she wishes it would tick away and take her already. Opal is tired and in pain and hates all of this. Opal hates John for doing this to her. Opal hates everyone who left her like this and never stopped to ask her what Opal wanted. No one cared about her enough to think about her as anything but a servant. Or a cute pet to play mommy with. Opal hates life and every last bit of it because it only ever led her to more and more pain until she finally got here, and now Opal could finally lay down and die and leave this awful world behind. Opal can see it all and curse it for being there. Opal is tired. Opal gives up on it all and closes herself off from anything and everything forever. Opal is dying. Opal is dead.

............................

She opens her eyes and tries to find warmth. She watches her tears fall onto the floor and they sparkle at her kindly. She's sad to see them fade.

Through her arms, she sees something move in a stuttery, slow crawl. It pushes and wiggles itself into view. He tilts his head towards her and a sleepy eye meets hers. "I'm...late, but I'm here."

It's the voice, the good voice that makes her think of nice things like the flower around his neck. A flower she knows. "Are you..."

"I think so." He doesn't have much of a mouth to smile with, but he uses what there is to try. He rolls closer to her. "You are too."

She looks at him. "Do you want them?"

He nods. "Can I?"

She shakily opens her bag. Inside, in a shaped lining are his arms.

One is cleanly cut by Pokey without her permission, the other ripped and torn free. She pulls out the clean one first and he pushes himself up on the arm. Holding the second, she threads her hand through its fingers and he takes it back and squeezes her hand back.

Most of his face is gone, and the metal shards in the exposed bones of his skull poke out like spikes. "I missed you." He says. "You haven't visited in a while, but that's ok."

She leans on his arm. "I...broke it." Something broke that meant everything to her. What was it? Something tumbled out of her chest and lay between them. It was shattered. She had broken his candy heart. "I-I'm so sorry..." She starts to cry harder, shoulders shaking.

He hugs her close, and his flower brushes her neck. "You kept it, and that's what matters. I kept your flower, and now we're back together again." He doesn't breathe, but he's warm. "We can make new ones."

She leans against him and he helps her rest against the door downstairs. He curls up with her and looks at the stars in the sky. He's stained with the same thing she is. He's warm, and she's not, so she pulls him closer. He tries to smile again and holds her hand. "Where?"

"Up in the sky, we were gonna go together." He rests his head on top of hers. "We can always whether the weather~." He sings a bit of the tune she knows deep in her core.

"That's what keeps us together..." She sings it back. It's right. It's the song she wants and it's the song that is him. It's the song that is her.

His voice is the good one that she sings with all the time. Everyday they sing together. Everyday is better with him. "Candy hearts and paper flowers, sunset skies, with hundred' hues."

Rhymes and songs we sang, for hours. Words to say I'll love you true.

Times get bad, and then I worry! How I'll ever see it through... but our candy hearts and paper flowers, will always keep me close to you.

Will always keep me close to you!

He sings softer now, and his hands are in hers the way she wishes they were more. He hugs her arm the way that she hugs his when they aren't in the bag.

I'm sorry for breaking your promise, can you even still look at me?

I told you once and now again friend, we'll make a new one so let it be.

But is it hurtful to be with me? When I was so bad to you.

Hey, now, this candy heart is still a-loving, and that love is forever true.

She cries and changes the song, trying to meet him in the connection and joy of sharing music together.

I, missed you and I love you so much, I, wanted to grow you a bunch...of paper flowers so you could be joyful and such, I love you too.

Long days in a rut that was us, happy campers but the reasons turned to mush, so now on the edge of the pain ending rush! I'll hold you close.

They sing together, whatever things they want to say, all coming through in rhyme and lyric until she...starts to lose track of her words. They aren't making sense anymore. He finishes the song, and she tries her best to keep up.

We can, do anything now just come and, hold me close and then, we'll fly! Fly up in the beyond! You and me! Joyful and finally free, as the sunrise, blinds both of our eyes!

Candy, papers will wrap up the candy, flowers and hearts go side by side, and they're bound all their lives.

All their lives...

So now we, paper and candy go swiftly, hurry and run for the starlight! Run to the ground, below~.

For now that we can be eternally,

reunited, let's go live our lives!

We're united...let's go live our lives~

He smiles and takes her by the hand, the other rest on her cheek over the cut in her mouth. "It's time to go."

She closes her eyes and a small spark lights in her mind. Those words meant something a long time ago...

"Mmaaaamaaaaaaaa gooooo!"

A lady in white puts away her phone and looks at her lovingly. "Ok baby! Are you ready for the super duper tough workout?"

"Ya!!"

She gets on the lady's shoulders and she buckles and dramatically wobbles around. "Wooahhhhh I can't stay up! It's too tough a workout! Nooo, I'm gonna fall!"

"No! No no fall!"

The lady makes effort noises and puts her down on the table. "Phewwww, maybe we should just stay home today, I'm pooped." She grins.

"Noooooo! Candy!"

"Hmmm? What's wrong? Ohh I said we would go get some candy after going to the big gym! WelI I guess I have to then!" She laughs and takes her hand. "Alright. Time to go, kiddo!"

He waits for her and looks at the sky. "Are you ready?"

She shakes her head. "There's...more...need the lady first..."

He nods. "Ok, how do I get her?"

"Gotta...be alone looking..."

"I'll be right here waiting, ok? We're gonna make a new candy heart for you, and a new paper flower for me! Right?"

"Mmmmmmm...yeah, wait for me."

He kisses her forehead and hugs her arm tightly. "I did before, and I always will. Cuz I love you." His only leg is bent to go over some of her legs.

"Love you too...friends in...in..." She's so dizzy, and the stars are twinkling around her like little fairies.

"Friends in every weather, friends always together, friends until the very end of time!" He recites it better than she can. He drags himself out of her sight and she lays on her arms. She can't see anything anymore and her head is quiet.

It's a nice quiet. She can't go without the lady and tries really really hard to be loud. It takes all her power to do it. "Lady in white! I'm- I'm ready to go! I'm...ready to go White lady...go...up..." She smiles and closes her eyes.

It's time to go.

@thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite

[semischarmed]

Projection

Have I ever told you about how the astral plane works? So, here’s a little secret about me. I’ve been dabbling the past few years a little in lucid dreaming. Well, it turns out I have a knack for it, and it’s amazing, I can go around doing whatever I want. I climbed Mount Everest, flew through the skies, visited Paris. The possibilities are literally endless. And, me being me, I like to go around in these dreams trying different ways at possessing people.

Of course, since it’s still a dream at the end of the day, the experience is somewhat detached. As fucking hot as it is, flooding my dream self inside my hot neighbor, or phasing into that cute barista at the Starbucks down the street, I always wake up to a sense of disappointment. There’s only so much the brain can make up. I’m not particularly smart or imaginative either, so it honestly feels like half my energy is spent just trying to maintain that dream.

So that led me to try other means. Of course, the next logical step was astral projection. Unlike a dream, when you project, you yourself are experiencing the world- the real world. I wanted to try my hand at projecting into people.

I found a book online that detailed specific steps on how to achieve this. I think this was where the trouble began. In addition to being a great lucid dreamer, I was apparently an astral projection savant. The book mentioned it could take months before I could manifest my full body outside the physical plane, and years before I could untether and explore the world. It took me two days before I was able to leave my own body and jump inside people.

All things considered, astral projection is a bit of a dead end. I thought I’d be able to jump inside people, control them, live as them, fuck as them, the works. Well, the human body is resilient. It knows what soul belongs in it, so there’s not much to do inside someone, you can’t really influence what they do, and people seem to pick up on the odd sensation of someone else being in the room with them, so even when I do jump inside someone masturbating or fucking, half of them stop on the spot. Still, when you’re in someone who’s a little more fearless, you feel their body as them, and, let me just say, it’s hot being inside someone when they masturbate. It’s like feeling your own hand do the deed, but you feel it as them. You feel every muscle, every feeling, every thought. The hot ones kind of suck at it, but the afterglow is pure bliss.

This book gives one strange rule on projection though: Twins, especially identical ones, are unique. They hold a special bond. “Do not project into a twin.” Given this ominous warning and my curiosity, and given how much of an expert I already was at this whole projecting thing, I had no choice but to try.

———

The first time I projected into a twin, was magical. Of course, I knew immediately who I wanted to test this on. The hot twins who lived down the street who were especially close. They seemed to have different people over all the time so at the very least, they were active. I had my sights on one particular twin: Chase. Goddamn what a specimen.

I decided to go into a sleeping Chase as a trial run during one of my late nights. The twins apparently slept on the same bed, which was a bit weird but was perhaps a testament to to their closeness. I thought it was kind of cute. Like with all projection, the body resists the intrusion and I have to claw my way into him. Easy enough.

Chase’s twin Caleb immediately stirred with eyes closed in confusion- “Chase... are you there?” The slumbering Chase did not respond. Upon closer inspection, I caught sight of Caleb’s slumbering form talking to the spirit of Chase that he took inside himself. Oh shit does this mean what I think it means? Then I decided to move inside Chase’s body while his form followed my spirit’s commands. I knew it.

The first thing I did once I realized I had full control of Chase, of course, was to start playing with this new dick. In my excitement, I was immediately drawn back into my own form, awoken by my raging hard-on. Damn it! Fucking tease. I decided to finish beating it out, with Chase’s hot bod on my mind and a resolve from then on to get better at this projecting thing and stay longer inside him.

I made a fascinating discovery that day- a discovery that had probably prompted that ominous message in the first place. Twins are already naturally connected in spirit, so when you astral project into a twin, you can displace them and the owner’s spirit actually has a welcome place to go.

———

The second time I projected into a twin, I went into the wrong one. Equally unfortunate  was that they seemed to have just had a fight, sitting in and angry silence before going to their respective rooms. I really should have done more research as far as who lived where because the person’s back that I slammed into was none other than Caleb. Likewise, it was apparently possible for twins to resist the displacement. This one was a fighter. The first thing I try to do in his body is flow into each limb and untether him. This proved to be fruitless, as he was easily able to fend off my attacks, kicking me right out of his body. I wasn’t one to lose a challenge so I again attempted a different route this time, concentrating all of me into his mind- control the mind and the body follows. Failure again. My final route was perhaps the cruelest, I expanded and positioned my soul to encompass all of him and began an all out barrage for control of his bod. Back and forth, my spirit squeezed in and out into him from all sides until he could no longer defend himself.

Finally, his soul submitted and I felt an emptying motion, accompanied by a quick shout from the other room. “H-What the fuck!” Chase barged in, visibly shaking, hands on his head in a mix of pain and confusion. He looked at me intently with an emotion I could not attribute. In response I gave a quick smirk and flipped him off with his own body before stating “Caleb, you’re pretty cute too. You like this? This is mine now.” As I start doing poses with his body, the emotion of my temporary twin became clear. Desire.

I stripped shirtless and began doing push-ups with his body, easily clearing 70 before finally breaking a sweat. I stood up and raised my Caleb arms, imbuing the room with his scent. Caleb looked on from Chase’s body with silent intent.

I then used Caleb’s nose to sniff his own armpits, used his own tongue to lick it clean, used his own mouth to flash him a demented smile. “Caleb, you taste very good, just like your hot brother,” I stated “-cmon, join meeee Chase... let’s do something sacrilegious” I ended with a wink. Of course, my fucking body woke up again, just when it was getting good. In the process, Chase also fell unconscious, as the real Caleb returned to himself. As I felt the last of my spirit be pulled back, and the waking world return, I caught the troubling sight of Caleb, back inside his own body, furiously masturbating over the events that had transpired.

——-

The third time I projected into a twin, he fell into depravity with me. Truth be told, I was again making a beeline right for Chase because, come on, look this face. Just as I was about to claim that tight ass, I felt myself get dragged into Caleb. A-fucking-gain. This time felt different though- he was still in the body with me. That in itself wasn’t too odd, given our fight from last time, but even  stranger this time around was that his body was willing. It readily welcomed my soul. His form followed my spirit’s every move, yet I still felt his soul present, compliant. I decided to do what I meant to do in Chase and began masturbating. At the end of the day, they were twins after all, Caleb was still fucking hot to cum through, and I was not one to miss an opportunity.

“Well I think today’s little trip is gonna be a two-for one” I said with his voice as I finished. I then purged myself from Caleb’s physical form and headed straight for Chase until I felt a part of my current body pull me back. My spectral form attempted to claw myself back towards Chase, but Caleb’s pull had been too strong. He wasn’t letting me go. My spirit recoiled and slammed right back into his and I felt a part of myself stain Caleb. “I didn’t say you could leave,” he commanded, forcing me to watch as he began to rub our body with his warm seed. Hot. We both brought some of it up to our shared mouth, taking in all that we had just completed. “If you want, I’ll let you go so you can go inside that asshole Chase”, he states, “Make him dirty like me...or I’ll have to”. That last line definitely threw me off. Though I meant to to investigate further, I again felt the pull of the waking world from my own body. He moaned a quick “thank you” before passing out.

The return trip to myself equally odd. The human body naturally resists a little before accepting a spirit, even when it’s the owner of that body but somehow mine accepted me with no push back. Something was off.

Still, being inside these twins was fucking hot and I was not going to let a few unfounded fears stop me. I set plans for my return trip to them.

———

The fourth time I projected into a twin was also the most impactful. I once again aimed for Chase, but immediately ran into a confusing sight...

Standing before me was Chase, or rather, Chase’s body, unconscious in frozen discomfort. As far as his soul, however, I could see its form convulsing and contorting in pain. I then catch sight of the cause of that pain- Caleb’s spectral form was somehow deep inside Chase’s filling into him. It’s like watching an infection in real-time.

I stood, or rather hovered, in silence at the bizarre display I had witnessed. Evidently, that was a mistake, because before I aimed to leave this terrifying sight and head back, I notice Chase’s unconscious form raise its head, turn right at me and give me a toothy, wicked smile. “I can see you”. Chase’s body licks its lips. “You probably didn’t know this but independent little Chase over here has been planning on leaving for a while now. Said we should split. Move to a different cities. Live out our own.” Chase’s body opens it’s eyes and starts walking to Caleb’s slumbering form. He leans over and starts making out with the unconscious Caleb. “Oh Caleb” he moans “Don’t worry. I’m never gonna leave you” Chase’s lips gently pry open Caleb’s and he snakes his tongue inside. Parts of Caleb’s cheek puff up and back down as Chase’s tongue explores every crevice. He sucks a little before letting out a satisfied sigh “so...so that’s what I taste like,” he says breathlessly.

Chase then starts playing with himself right next to his twin’s sleeping form and I couldn’t help but get a bit aroused. “You always were the hotter twin” Chase says to himself as he continues tracing his own calloused hands all over. His attention moves to the unconscious Caleb, who he stops first to ponder for a moment before beginning to pump. He then positions Chase’s mouth over his original body to expertly deepthroat his own dick. This stirs the Caleb body to life, and he makes them both finish on each other off.

With both bodies, Caleb finishes licking himself clean. “Since it’s all me over here, this is technically just masturbating” he says confidently, as if to justify the disturbing sight I just witnessed. Caleb then positions Chase’s sweaty body behind his and has Chase wrap his sweaty biceps into an embrace from behind. “Like I said bro [moan], I’m never leaving you”. Two amused pairs of eyes then look directly at me. “You’re never leaving us either right? We have to thank you somehow for this,” they say, gesturing at their incestuous selves. I am immediately creeped out. After thinking for a few seconds, they chime in unison “Welcome to the family! We have a present for you”. With that, Caleb drops unconscious. That was signal enough for me, giving me shock I need to head straight back for my body.

Of course, by the time I get there, I instead see my own self, sitting naked, eyes rolled back and moaning as he maneuvers my hands all over. I see him continue to explore me, twisting my nipples, which, fuck that feels good, masturbating me, using my own body to maneuver in ways I never did before. With Caleb inside, my body moves with a confidence I never had. The experience is surreal. The sheer pleasure more or less stuns my soul on the spot. When my physical body finishes cumming, Caleb brings our hands to scoop it up and, oddly, it tasted different- slightly salty, slightly sweet, slightly Caleb. He sniffs our armpit and, again, the scent was rank, putrid, and nothing I’ve ever created. What was coming out of my body was undeniably Caleb.

“Mmmmmm... property of Caleb now” he says with my voice, as he rubs my Caleb-smelling sweat all over. Admittedly this was kind of hot. With an assured stride that I didn’t know my body could perform, Caleb opens my door, greeted by a Chase carrying his own unconscious twin. Caleb brings my body to his own and starts defiling himself. He turns his own body around and starts fucking it with my penis. Fuck that also feels good. With each pump, his own body starts to animate, ever so slightly. When he finally cums, my physical form falls unconscious and Caleb stirs awake. I take this as my chance to get back inside me. Success.. and god with Caleb smeared all over me, I smell disgustingly good.

“You’ll never leave me, right?” The body in front of me questioned. I’m a bit taken aback and try to stammer out a response “Uh...-“ before I could finish, Chase penetrates me from behind. “That would be a no” He whispers before giving my ear a playful bite. Why did he have to be so cute. This whole series of events was something straight out of my dreams. Despite this, my self preservation instincts kick into overdrive. Whatever this is, however good this feels, I need to get out. Fast.

As if he could read my mind, Caleb’s body smiles as he makes his twin use his rough fingers to gently grab my hair and pull me back. He leans Chase over to give me a deep, sensual kiss. “Oh well, Chase isn’t here anymore. Caleb took me, all of me. We’ve always had a deep connection... but he wanted more-I trusted him and he used that love to get inside me, pervert my soul... he’s in so deep inside me now that Caleb is all that’s left.” He wipes his sweaty face all over mine and continues making out. He then starts gyrating his hips, pushing more of himself inside my body as the Caleb body does the opposite and swallows more of my still-hardened rod with his ass. I feel the throbbing almost impossibly deep inside me from Chase’s dick as they proceed. “Thank you for this” they moan in unison.

They continue humping me from both sides, locking me in a paralyzed bliss. “We wanted to give you something special for keeping us close” they say. Then I felt it in my soul. Caleb. He pulls my spirit out and with his twin souls begin to fuck me in the astral plane. The feeling is indescribable. Nirvana. Bliss. Ecstasy. Enveloped by and merged to Caleb and Chase’s spectral forms, completion. This could be me. This could be us forever.

Then reality snaps back and I am floating alone. I finally regain my composure I try to head back to my unconscious, smiling body. No dice. “Occupied” it says with a chuckle. I head for Chase’s instead, “mmmm getting close” it moans. My body grins wider and motions to the unconscious Caleb. He spits with both bodies at his own motionless form. “Go ahead, take you new place, Caleb”. With no other option, I fill into the empty Caleb shell.

Chase and my body then start fucking each other. Hard. Messy. He’s doing more things with my body that I didn’t even know was possible, and as the original owner of my body, and the current inhabitant of Caleb’s, I feel both motions amplified. Im sure he feels the same.

As Chase, he turns my body around, and again rams his thick dick inside. My body involuntarily gasps, which causes me to gasp inside of Caleb. He forces a wicked, dirty smile out of my body’s face as he plunges ever deeper. He slips Chase’s sweaty abs onto my body’s back, wraps tone, sweaty Chase biceps over mine into an armlock from behind and takes plump Chase lips into a quick peck on my body’s cheek. My body then sags unconscious. Despite the sight, the smell throughout the sweaty combination was undeniably just Caleb’s.

Chase’s eyes flutter and his body trembles as Caleb repossessed his twin’s body with the extra soul he stuffed mine with. With double the soul inside, Chase exudes double the vitality and in that sweaty embrace, Caleb again gyrated his twin’s body into mine as he fills it with double the seed- double the soul. “T-thank you for the house warming present. I’ll take real good care of you-you’ll take real good care of us” he moans, as Chase’s body now goes unconscious as well. Dread fills me.

Aside from the odd cases with twins, human bodies know who their masters are. The act of imbuing a soul into a different body is, in and of itself, unnatural. So it was at this point that my empty body starts involuntarily writhing, trying to escape. I see tears well in my closed eyes, still unconscious from effort. Of course, as Caleb, I motion to protect myself from whatever was going to occur next and set to pull my unconscious form off the Chase embrace. Before I could pull my body out of the entrapment, it shoots awake, face swinging upward to face me. Bright white eyes shoot open. Behind my skin I see a force pushing deep inside, stretching it unnaturally. The visage of Chase appears, beneath my flesh, wearing my face like a mask. Though it’s Chase’s spirit he melds, the smile growing is undeniably Caleb. When it all settles, eyes roll back into place. Instead of my normal eyes, Chase’s pale blue orbs appear in their place. The crooked smile grows to a laugh on my body, teeth looking odd, until I realize it was Chase’s own molars poking through my own mouth. He takes shallow breaths and smears more sweat around himself, and though I can’t place if it was my own body’s sweat or Chase’s, the smell emanating is fully Caleb. Bones crack, skin shivers and stretch and contract and construct and I feel, from my own soul, a massive wave of nausea.

If astral projection into another is, in itself, an unnatural act, astral displacement, astral merging was another layer of corruption entirely, it was unholy. He was changing something in me, fundamentally. Wave after wave of Chase’s flesh bleed into my body from Caleb’s onslaught. My nausea shifts into a unique pain, a pain of the soul, originating from where he stuffed my physical form full of Chase’s seed-Caleb’s seed, mixing and amalgamating us into a wholly new being. Musculature appears in place of the frame of my body’s previous shape as more and more of it is twisted and contorted. Then, perhaps in one last push of defiance, my body screams involuntarily, and I, in Caleb, scream.

“So you’ll never leave me, like he planned to” Caleb says, with a mix of my voice and his, as he rams the last, massive part of himself into my body. My physical form’s face contorts in discomfort one last time before Caleb settles it into satisfaction. “Look at us” he states as he runs vascular new hands over my body’s new face and then uses that new face to give me a seductive wink. “We’re cute as a button”. The transformation was complete- my old self no longer recognizable in the new brother he had created.

The change, of course, had hit my soul as well. From inside Caleb I screamed...convulsed...shook... moaned... you know, the works. When that last bit of Caleb dug inside my spirit and changed me, I truly felt him, felt my twin, felt his love. I’ll be a better Chase for him than Chase ever was. Our souls are bonded for life. I am a part of Caleb now, and he is a part of me. Everyone experiences it differently, but we’re all grateful after to have Caleb inside us, to be a part of something greater. I like to think I have the extra privilege of being his twin, new and improved, wearing his old body’s skin while he wears and controls mine. And sometimes, with his permission, I get to play around inside the others. Sometimes we switch and he lets me jump inside Chase, like I’m doing now. The only body off limits is my old one. I like to think that makes me special, it’s the only body Caleb keeps his soul in 100 percent of the time. It’s proof of our special connection. And he wears the new me so well, better than I ever could anyways.

And, well, that takes us to today doesn’t it? Why even tell you all of this? Caleb likes you. I like you. We like you. And we think it’s time to expand the family again. You got some good traits to work with- we’ll get a lot use out of that bod, after a few adjustments. You’re probably feeling a little sleepy now. Sorry, guilty, that was me. Oh this thick Chase dick you feel inching deeper inside your ass? Yep, obviously also me. But, cmon future bro, dig deeper, listen with your body. What else are you feeling? Do you feel our love, throbbing in you? Do you something else, leaking inside? Do you feel these calloused Chase hands pulling you ever deeper into us? Do you feel him? Do you feel Caleb already worming himself into you? Good. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. You’re gonna love us. We’re gonna be fucking hot together after we’re done with you. Welcome Home.

—End —

Wanted to explore something a little different with this one. Hope y'all like it!

[saphirered]

Drowned Sorrows (Vagrant pt2.)

Caleb settles at the table in your shared room, ink and paper ready to go to work and you grab your stuff making way to leave when Caleb stops you, stepping in your path to the door, arms crossed and eyes burning into you. You try to step around him but he just moves with you until you give up. Apparently He’s adamant on talking.

“What the hell do you want?” You roll your eyes at his childish means from preventing you from leaving the room.

“This has gone on long enough.” Caleb states.

“What has?” You play dumb and Caleb gives you a disapproving look akin to a teacher scolding a student and you could just wring the life out of him for for it. Gods, can he just leave you be?

“You know exactly what.”

“Please, by all means, enlighten me, oh grand master Widogast.” You mock and now it’s Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes. Do you have to be so annoying? Why can’t you just act like an adult?

“If you insist. Why do you run out of the room whenever I study? Why do you feel the need to cringe and cower whenever I do anything even remotely magic related?” Caleb asks as you shake your head biting your tongue. This man… This man has some guts to call you out like he has but you suppose maybe this whole thing between the two of you wouldn’t have been as much of an issue if the two of you could just talk about your issues instead of bottling it up until you burst in moments like these, usually ending in some kind of shouting match followed by the silent treatment until Nott makes you ‘kiss and make up’ like she’s your mom.

“It’s none of your business, Caleb. Now let me out.” You once again try to push past him but he doesn’t let you. “Try me, Widogast or I’ll-“ You threaten but are cut off.

“Do what? You won’t use your magic beyond rudimentary practices. What could you possibly do?” Caleb pushes. You know he’s pushing your buttons, your anger only another means to get answers for himself and you hate yourself for falling for his calculated move but you still do.

“You don’t want to find out, Widogast. It didn’t end well for the last people.” There it is. That’s what he’d been waiting for. Those words alone, that threat is not an empty one. You wouldn’t harm him, not permanently at least but there’s a truth to your words and Caleb knows his calculated move to piss you off is paying off. He’ll have to tread carefully if he wants more answers and not actually provoke your wrath.

Shit. Shit shit shit. ‘It didn’t end well for the last people’. Shit. You didn’t want those words to leave your lips at all. Ever. Stupid Caleb fucking Widogast. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You can’t deal with this right now and try to push him out of the way but Caleb hardly budges. You half contemplate leaving through the window just to make a point but you’d rather not draw that kind of attention to yourself.

“Veiled threats and half truths. Those are a coward’s words who doesn’t intend to make true on their promises.” Oh you’re this far away from kicking his ass.

“Well it takes one to know one.” You hiss. “You might want to think twice. We still share a room and I will not hesitate to smother you with a pillow while you sleep. Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” You feel a tingling in your fingertips, frustration running through your face with just a tiny hint of fear. You ball your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms. Last thing you need is to lose control right now but Caleb doesn’t have to know that.

Caleb steps out of the way, allowing you to pass. He stares you down until you close the door behind you, sharing one last glare before you’re off doing whatever you can to not be in any proximity of that room.

————

Hours later Nott has fallen asleep at the foot of Jester’s bed, the tiefling herself curled up comfortably. Beau’s sprawled out across her own bed limbs dangling off each side as she snores. You’d fallen asleep sitting against Beau’s bed until her hand slapped you in the face rudely pulling you from your not so comfortable sleeping position. You get up and stretch your limbs, cracking your back. Hopefully Caleb will have gone to sleep himself and you’ll be able to make it to your own bed without dealing with the wizard at this late, or rather early hour.

Exiting the girls’ room you see Fjord slumped against the wall near to his room, giggles and moans coming from the room he shares with Mollymauk. This time he had the sense to bring a pillow but Fjord still looked about as comfortable as anyone could be sleeping against the wall of one of the most expensive places in all of Zadash. You contemplated waking him and telling him to take your bed instead but you don’t doubt you’ll lose your comfy bed forever if you switched roommates. Don’t want to set any precedents because in all honesty, rather him than you having to deal with the lavender tiefling living his life to the fullest. Still, you take your cloak, throwing it over the half-orc gently as you move on to your room.

You don’t see any candle light bleeding through the narrow slit beneath the door so you count yourself lucky as you quietly open the door and slide in, tiptoeing over to your bed, putting your things down and beginning to get ready to sleep. You pull the silk covers back and lay down, making yourself comfortable and close your eyes. You can still smell the scent of that fine parchment and ink. You can almost hear the phantom scribbling of a pen over that paper, dipping into the ink vial every so often to replenish. It’s pure torture. The sound needs to stop. The smell needs to go and despite you trying to use some prestidigitation to get rid of the smell, changing it to those overly fragrant flowers at the shop you passed by a few days ago, the smell is still stuck in your nostrils, the sound still trapped in your ears, the damage already done.

You turn over onto your back, pulling the pillow from beneath you and pulling it over your head, releasing a frustrated but soft muffled scream more akin to a sigh into the plush feathers. The darkness behind your eyelids doesn’t help as you feel a vision of a room creep in, one etched into your memory just as that scent and sound are. Accompanied by feelings of pain and fear, desperation and helplessness, is the feeling of being completely and utterly trapped. No matter your tossing and turning, it all remains and the walls close in, sleep couldn’t be further out of your reach. That is until the lights turn on. A gentle orange glow fills the room and you’re pulled away from your memories and back into the room you share with Caleb.

“Would you stop your tossing and turning, please.” Caleb asks groggy, the sound of moving fabrics and endless sighs having awoken him from his own sleep. Caleb turns over to see you sitting, elbows on your bent knees and head in your hands as you try to stabilise your breathing, counting under your breath like its a life line. You may not exactly be friends and quarrel more often than not, that doesn’t mean he can’t be worried for you. Something’s clearly wrong and it doesn’t take an expert to see that.

“Are you alright?” He asks carefully turning to a half seated position to get a better view of you.

“Just go back to sleep, Caleb.” You grumble not moving from your position. No quip back, no witty remark, not even actual annoyance or a half threat to let Jester draw dicks in his precious books. The position you’re in, the traits you’re displaying are also familiar to him. He’s found himself in a similar situation many times and while you may have said it before as an offence, it’s true no less; takes one to know one. You’re reliving trauma, or at least coming back from reliving a traumatic memory of some kind. Triggered by what exactly?

“I’ll go back to sleep when I’m sure I won’t be awoken again every ten minutes.” In other words; talk.

“Piss off.” You spit raising from your bed, reaching for your bag. Instead you find an orange tabby raising it’s back and hissing at you, by the command of his master no doubt. You have half the mind to pick the cat up by the scruff and toss him at the wizard but right now you just want out.

“You can’t keep running away from your problems forever.” The words hit hard. Caleb’s right but why does it sound like a statement not solely directed at you? You know exactly why. You might not exactly have had any bonding moments with Caleb and he’s been shifty about his past but you know the words of someone who tries to deny that same truth themself.

“It seems to work just perfectly for you. Hypocrite.” It sounded like a curse. Hypocrite. Caleb had known for a long time but having it thrown so bluntly at his face, it hurt. He doesn’t lash out in anger or hit back with an equally venomous retort but instead just stares at you with pity. He really does pity you. He may not know the story but he knows that pain and no one should have to endure that. Still it’s your choice to keep it to yourself. It’s your choice to keep it all bottled up and locked away. No matter what he says, or does for that matter, he can’t change your mind, or even help you despite your differences, if you don’t allow anyone in, regardless of your like, or dislike in his case, for the person. He can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. And that’s exactly what makes him the biggest hypocrite here. His pain is his punishment.

“Where are you going?” Caleb asks as you push Frumpkin aside just enough to reach for your coin pouch, the cat hissing and clawing at your hands until he falls silent again. You open the door looking back one last time.

“To find a rooftop with a good view and drown my sorrows.” You close the door behind you and do exactly that. A bottle or two of good booze acquired and a nice rooftop found. The view would have been nice weren’t it cloudy. Halfway through your first bottle the gods decided to shit in your dish by the sound of rolling thunder and rain pouring down from the skies by the buckets, drenching you to the bone in a matter of seconds. You debated going back inside but you’re stubborn and stayed on that rooftop watching the water spill over the drains until you were shaking from the cold. Maybe suffering from hypothermia isn’t worth making a statement.

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 2

My Masterlist

“1985, huh?” You say, looking up from the briefing Mobius has just handed you.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll spot a delorian?” He jokes, making a Back to the Future reference. You smile at him, remembering when you’d first mentioned the movie. You hadn’t been at the TVA long, to your knowledge.

You’re sat in one of the cafes, explaining something about the timeline to Casey, and you make an offhand reference to the movie. To which, Casey looks even more confused. You glance at Mobius, who’s been sat next to you, watching your teaching with a smile. You offer them both a small smile, at yet another reminder that you’re from somewhere very different from the rest of them.

“Neither of you have seen it have you?” Mobius shakes his head.

“Not a lot of chances for watching movies when dealing with the timeline. Should we get the chance, I’d love to.” It’s a few days later when you give him the chance.

“Honey, I’m home.” You hear Mobius call out, which brings a smile to your face. Whilst you had your own apartment, you much preferred staying with Mobius, like you did when you first arrived at the TVA. You hear him set down a pile of papers in the kitchen, before making his way into the lounge where you’re sat waiting for him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s all this?”

“Back to the Future. I went through my file, and managed to find a version that I watched that was uninterrupted. Then I isolated it, and copied it onto one of those cassette reel things, so that it’ll play on your mini projector.” You pause, before adding, “I probably put too much effort into this but, I thought we could have what my time considers a movie night?”

“A movie night?” Your face falls slightly, feeling embarrassed by your suggestion.

“We don’t have to-“ you start. He shrugs off his jacket and settles down next to you.

“Did I not tell you I wanted to watch it, should I get the chance?”

“Well, yeah.” He gestures to the projector.

“Let’s get this show on a roll.” You grin at him, before quickly pressing play on the projector. Mobius leans an arm on the couch and pulls you to his side. “You finally have clearance to access to your file, and you use it to watch Back to the Future?”

“What else was I supposed to do with it?” You joke.

You and Mobius head to the cubicle where you left Loki this morning. You spot him wapping against the desk with a magazine.

“Training going well?” You ask him. He leans back in his chair, attempting to look casual.

“Yeah.”

“Is that my jet ski magazine?” Mobius asks him. “Put it down. Gear up. There's been an attack. Let's go.” He hands Loki the jacket he’s been carrying. You set the briefing down on the desk, and follow Mobius. Loki trails behind you. “Put it on.” Loki shrugs the jacket on, adjusting the collar before posing.

“Nice.” You tell him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah, smart.” Mobius says distractedly. You soon reach the Timedoors, where a small group of hunters have gathered to wait. B-15 opens up the briefing.

“C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant. But which kind of Loki, remains unknown.”

“They're the lesser kind, to be clear.” Loki specifies. B-15 sighs,

“Let me see the back of that jacket.” Loki does a small turn, showing the group the back of his jacket, where the bright orange letters reading VARIANT stand out. Everyone is the group shares a small smile. You’re glad you don’t have to wear one of those anymore.

“Very subtle. Well done.”

“I don't want anybody out there to forget what you are.”

“Oh, your only hope of capturing a murderer?”

“No. A cosmic mistake.”

“That's enough.” Mobius interrupts.

“Lovely.” You hear Loki murmur.

“Here's the deal.” Mobius begins. “When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant.” He skims through a few of the Loki Variants that the TVA have caught before. “And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include: shapeshifting, illusion projection, and my favourite-”

“Duplication casting.” Loki interrupts

“Illusion projection.”

“No, they're two completely different powers.”

“How?” You ask him.

“Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure. But you already knew that.” He explains. You catch a glimpse of Mobius’s smirk before he says,

“Okay, take a breath. Noted. We're gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki.”

“Why?” A hunter stood beside you asks.

“Because whoever this Variant is, we haven't been able to find him. So let's bring in an expert.” Loki looks around at the group before adding a quiet,

“That's me.”

As the hunters prepare themselves, you hear Loki ask, “Do I get a weapon?” You laugh lightly,

“No chance.”

“Well, I'll have my magic back. Is no one concerned about that?”

“Of what?” Mobius asks.

“Me betraying you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know that we’ll just catch you again.” You tell him.

“And how's betraying us gonna get you any closer to the Time-Keepers?” Mobius adds. Loki leans forward, his attention fixed on Mobius.

“An audience with the Time-Keepers is on the table?”

“Keep that focus.” Mobius tells him. The three of you follow the hunters through the Timedoor, and out into 1985 Wisconsin. Your group makes their way through the crowd of the Renaissance fair before entering a large tent. It’s dark inside, with only a few lanterns to light your path. You watch as B-15 bends down to grasp examine a helmet left abandoned on the floor.

“So he's taking hostages now?” She says, turning to Mobius.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before.”

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her.” One of the hunters remarks, you frown at his callousness towards his colleague.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.”

“I think you underestimate, actually...” Loki begins.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 orders. Mobius sets a hand on your arm, and the two of you head to the exit.

“Come on.” He says to Loki.

“Wait. If you leave this tent, you'll end up like them.” Mobius stops beside Loki.

“What do you see?”

“I see a scheme, and in that scheme, I see myself.” Loki begins to ramble about an old Asgardian saying.

“Two units. He is wasting our time.” B-15 interrupts.

“Okay. Come on, Loki, make a long story short.” Mobius encourages.

“We need to look for C-20.”

“That's exactly what the Variant wants you to do. It's a trap. He's waiting for you outside this tent.”

“Should I secure the reset charges?”

“No. He wants me. I'm the key to his plan. He knows that I'm stronger. And he rightly believes that together we can overthrow and rule the TVA. But that's not what I want. I have a new purpose. I'm a servant of the Sacred Timeline. And knowing what I now know about his tactics, I can deliver you the Variant, but I need assurances.” He says, looking to Mobius. You glance up at Mobius, frowning slightly. Surely he isn’t believing what Loki’s saying? His eyes catch yours and there’s a small twinkle in them. You hide your smile. Loki circles around Mobius.

“Yeah?” Mobius offers.

“Assurances that I won't be completely disintegrated the moment the job has been done.”

“Right.” Loki leans forward, before whispering,

“We'll need to speak to the Time-Keepers at once. They're in graver danger than we realized.”

“He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there.” Mobius calls out to the group.

“Reset the timeline.” B-15 orders.

“You had me for a second. My ears are sharp too.” He points at Loki’s chest. You follow Mobius out of the tent.

“Well that went well.” You remark, hearing Mobius sigh. He runs his hand over his face.

You’re tucking into your lunch when you spot Mobius. He picks out a drink and a salad before making his way over to you. You give him a small smile,

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How did it go with Renslayer?” He sighs, leaning his head back, before getting comfortable in his seat.

“Well, our Loki hasn’t been deleted yet.”

“That’s good then?” You offer. He sighs,

“Yeah. Though he’s getting more and more talkative.”

“You did say he loves to talk. Where is he now?”

“I’ve left him with the archives, hopefully he’ll be reading for the next few days. Or at least long enough for me to finish lunch.” He begins to eat his salad. Just then, Loki scampers in looking like a manic puppy.

“I found something.” Mobius shakes his head, keeping his attention on his lunch,

“No, I said don’t bother me until you've read all the files.”

“I have.”

“Every file?”

“Yes.”

“Pertaining to the Variant?”

“The answer isn't in the files, it's on the timeline. He's hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which apocalypse?” You ask.

“Any time in history? There's, like, a million of 'em.” Mobius adds.

“Ragnarok. Are you familiar?”

“Yes. The destruction of Asgard and most of its people. I'm sorry.” Loki pauses looking down.

“Yes, very sad.” He immediately perks up again. “Anyway, it got me thinking. Nexus events happen when someone does something they're not supposed to do, right?”

“Well, it's a little more complicated, but, yeah.”

“Great. And then that thing they're not supposed to do, cascades into a whole range of other things that aren't supposed to happen.”

“And so on and so forth, until eventually, a new timeline branches. Yes?”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.”

“Exactly. So, let's just say...” He picks up the salad bowl from in front of Mobius.

“Mm-hm. What are you doing?”

“...your salad is Asgard in this scenario.” Loki continues.

“It's not Asgard, that's my lunch.” Mobius complains, the pouting clear in his voice. You lean forward, a hand on your chin to hide the smile at Mobius’s reaction.

“It's a metaphor. Just hang in there.”

“I want that salad.”

“And I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let's say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge.” He picks up a salt shaker and puts a large sprinkling of salt across Mobius’s salad.

“There he goes.” You say, feeling rather invested in this metaphor.

“The salt's Hulk?” Mobius asks, clearly not as enthusiastic as you.

“And I could also... Set fire to the palace.” He picks up a pepper pot and shakes the pepper across the salad.

“No, just stop. Don't set fire to the palace.”

“Okay? I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn't go against the dictates of the timeline because...” He sets down the shakers after nearly emptying them both. He heads to the table behind you. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, God!” Mobius sighs.

“You!” Recognising the voice you look up to see Casey looking very confused.

“Nice to see you. I just need this for a second. Thanks.” Loki picks up Casey’s carton of juice, before sitting back down at your table. “Because the apocalypse is coming. Ragnarok, Surtur will destroy Asgard no matter what I do.”

“No, don't do...” Mobius sighs as Loki empties the carton over the remains of the salad.

“There's the apocalypse.” You say with a sigh, offering Mobius your bag of chips.

“That's the apocalypse?” He asks, taking a handful of chips from you with a smile.

“Ragnarok obliterates the salt. Ragnarok. There it is.” Loki gestures to the ruined salad with a proud smile.

“What am I lookin' at?”

“Okay, it was a clumsy metaphor. But you see what I mean. It doesn't matter. It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave. It could be a meteor. It could be a volcano, a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction, then nothing that I say or do will matter, because the timeline's not gonna branch. Hence, the Variant could be hiding in the apocalypse and do whatever he wants, and we wouldn't know!”

“Not bad.” You offer.

“Take me to a real apocalypse, to Ragnarok, I'll show you.” Mobius chuckles,

“Yeah. So you can run away back to your homeland? No.”

“No, I'm not going home. We can go anywhere.”

“I'm not taking you for a stroll along the promenade, much less an apocalypse.”

“Oh, Mobius, come on! What could possibly go wrong? We gotta properly test this theory.”

“Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test.”

“I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal.” He most definitely would stab someone in the back.

“Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like 50 times.”

“Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old.” You both laugh at this. Mobius looks at you, and you shrug.

“Might as well try it?” You offer. Mobius nods,

“Okay.”

“Okay, look, you don't trust me, you can trust one thing. I love to be right.” Loki adds. That certainly isn’t a lie.

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged just ask!!

[teamddixon]

A New Normal

Summary: Set in the future of the TWD timeline, this story follows Daryl, Y/N and her brother through their journey in the world of the undead. It wasn’t like Daryl to let people in to his heart easily, but it was Y/N’s smiles that had captured him completely, and before he knew it, there wasn’t a scenario Daryl could think of about his future that didn’t have Y/N in it.

A/N: Hi guys, this is my first time writing a fic of our TWD badass, Daryl Dixon. It’s gonna be a long one, and a work in progress. I write because it makes me happy, and I hope it’ll make you happy too. The intro for this fic would be pretty long, and Daryl wouldn’t appear until slightly later, but I thought it would be important to touch on Y/N and her brother’s background since we already know Daryl’s background pretty well. I’m not a zombie apocalypse expert, and neither dare I call myself a TWD expert (I’m not, please pardon me if I get some facts wrong!), so some parts of the story may not be realistic. It is most certainly strayed from the current universe since this is meant to be set in the projected timeline after the eventual season 11, which of course we don’t know yet how Daryl’s narrative would be changed or if it would at all, (or do we?), so this story may or may not make sense after season 11 ends (maybe think of this as a spin off?). I do hope you like it, and don’t mind the fact that it is set way in the future of the universe. As mentioned, it’s still a work in progress and I don’t know how many parts it’ll be. But writing this is extremely cathartic for me so I’ll continue writing for as long as my brain (and my full time job) allows.  Comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated! Please sit back and enjoy this journey with Daryl. :)

Photo is not mine. All mistakes in this are mine, please pardon them. 

There aren’t many moments in Y/N’s life where she’d just sit on a spot, completely and utterly at a loss. The camp where she’d called home for the last month was gone – just like that. Along with it, the people she considered her family. When an unexpected rogue herd of walkers stumbled across the cabin, she was out on a supply run with her older brother, Andrew. By the time they had came back, the cabin was in shambles and the smell of the dead overpowered their senses. Y/N stood rooted to the ground in shock behind the bushes, throwing a look of fear at Andrew. Biting back a scream, knowing it’ll give her position away, Y/N looked around, hoping to see a familiar face. A familiar face that was alive. There was none. It was too late for them to do anything to salvage their family, their home. There were too many walkers to take on and honestly, nothing much left for salvation.

Y/N had no idea how long she was behind the bushes watching the dead feeding on mangled bodies of people she once knew. She knew she had to move, but her feet wouldn’t allow. It was as if they were locked in position, trapped in the nightmare of a scene before her. The only comfort she could gather was seeing quite a number of fallen walkers with slash marks on their heads – meaning they had put up a strong fight against them.

“Come on, we got to go.” Andrew’s voice called out, his hand grabbing hers nudging her to move. There was a catch in his voice, although he tried to hide it. Still in shock and tears, Y/N willed her legs to move. Just one foot in front of another, just one foot in front of another. She had to keep her mind focused on what was in front, and to keep her legs moving forward. Y/N followed him, almost in complete auto-pilot. 

Without actually knowing how long or how she even managed to keep in tandem with her brother’s pace with her state of mind, he had led Y/N to a spot in the woods where the two of them finally crashed on the hard grounds. Y/N was shaking violently as she buried her heads between her knees. She had no idea if she was shaking because of the nip in the air, or because of shock. A low growl shook her awake from her reverie. She looked up to see a lone walker approaching from the right. Reaching for her hunting knife from her belt holster with her shaky hands proved to be a tremendous task. Y/N finally managed to unsheathe the knife and plunged it hard into the walker’s temple right before its jaw got onto her. She had no idea she still had that strength somewhere in her.

“Are you okay?” Andrew had walked over to her just in time to plunge his machete into the head of another walker that had approached Y/N from her blind spot. “Thanks. I didn’t see it coming.” Y/N mustered her strength and stood up before kicking the walker in its head with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“I don’t, I cant –“ Y/N finally allowed herself to sob into Andrew’s shirt. While there were only a few people in the group to begin with, she have had time to know them through this shitstorm and had grown to like them like her own family. They were the people she had been moving with for years. They had lost some people in their journey, but they’d never lost all of them entirely before. To lose them all at once was devasting. But all in all, she was glad her brother was there. Andrew was fiercely protective of her, especially in this new world. She wouldn’t be alive and standing today if not for him. All her survival skills, her knife works, hunting and tracking skills, had all came from him. Y/N was not prepared for this world at all. Without Andrew, she would have become one of the walkers a long time ago. But she was a fast learner, and had more than proven her survival skills. Despite all that, she never lost her sense of hope and cheerfulness, that was until that day.

She was thankful for Andrew for giving her the time to grief while he single-handedly took down more than a dozen walkers while she was still in a daze. She felt horrible, leaving her brother to keep her alive knowing he needed his time to process everything too. Andrew didn’t say anything, he just kept her alive.

Nightfall brings another set of danger – the temperature had dipped drastically. Y/N worked with her brother to build a makeshift shelter with leaves and twigs. Andrew had also got a small fire going to provide a bit of warmth. If the walkers doesn’t get to them, the elements most certainly would. Satisfied with the perimeters, lined with makeshift cans and marbles to alert them when any walkers enter the camp, Andrew gestured for Y/N to sleep while he kept watch.

Y/N tucked herself in next to the small fire and tried to sleep. But of course sleep eluded her. Every time she had her eyes closed, all she could see was the grotesque bodies of her friends back in the cabin. She kept your eyes close despite that, hoping to catch at least a little sleep. Y/N knew she would be in no state to fight for survival without rest. Andrew sat next to the fire and finally allowed himself to process the events of the day. Most of the people in the group had been his friends since he was a child. He had grown up with them, went through triumphs and heartbreaks together. Losing them was painful. Losing them and not being able to do anything for them was painful. He looked at Y/N who had now finally fallen asleep and willed himself to stay strong. He couldn’t – he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his sister. Y/N was his only family left.

Three hours into Y/N’s fitful sleep, she woke up in a pool of sweat despite the night cold. Before this all happened, Y/N always slept like a log. An earthquake could literally be breaking her room down and she would have no idea. But in this new normal, her body had adjusted itself to wake up within a few hours and it had learned to survive on a couple hours of sleep each night.

She saw Andrew throwing logs into the fire to keep it going. Approaching him silently, she gestured for him to sleep while she took over the watch. Nodding his head, he vacated his space before taking over hers. Y/N was on high alert, determined to keep her brother safe while he catch his much needed rest. Andrew had been there for Y/N all her life. She was only a couple of years younger so they were very close since young. This trip was supposed to be a break from work, but instead, they were thrown with an even bigger shitstorm than they could imagine. Y/N almost laughed when she thought about the irony. She would choose to go back to her office job any day over this. Before long, the cackle of the fire begin to diminish as the day broke. Y/N looked up at the skies, trying hard to fathom how this was the very same sky before the world had turned into hell. The sun still came up in the East and the morning birds still sang, but nothing else about the world right now was the same.

Gathering up all of their belongings, Y/N and Andrew set off for another day. They had to find a more permanent shelter, a sturdier shelter than twigs and leaves at least. Stopping by the creek to gather some water, Y/N took the chance to splash herself with the cold water. As the water hit her face, she perked up. Having not had a shower for days, Y/N’s skin was starting to itch and peel. Her feet was swollen with blisters and her arms were filled with dried scabs from all the cuts she sustained while running away from walkers. Y/N looked at Andrew with a longing in her eyes. She needed that shower. Convinced that the area was free of walkers, Andrew gave in and gave her privacy while Y/N washed yourself. He told her he would try to track something for their food today and set off with his bag, gesturing for Y/N to follow when she was done. A smile almost crept up Y/N’s face as she washed away days of sweat, dirt, and walker blood off her body. She hadn’t dared to take her time though. Once she was done, she quickly put on a fresher set of clothes that she had and set out to look for Andrew.

Feeling more refreshed, Y/N tried to put on a new perspective of how life was going to be moving forward. She was determined to continue living, living for the friends who couldn’t. She was going to continue living for Andrew. She didn’t want all of Andrew’s effort teaching her survival to go to waste. Y/N followed the tracks on the floor, hoping to find Andrew soon. No more than 10 minutes into following the tracks, she heard a slight ruffle of leaves to her left. It was so slight it was almost unnoticeable. It can’t have been a walker – a walker would have made a louder noise than that. It was most certainly a person. She smiled and moved towards the direction where she heard the sound from, anticipating to see Andre.

“Hey, did you managed to –“ Y/N’s whispers faltered into complete silence when a tall, crossbow donning man with striking blue eyes, greeted her. The man had his crossbow trained on Y/N’s head. She stopped in her tracks, knife in hand ready to strike.

“Who are you?” The man demanded. Not only was his crossbow trained on Y/N, his eyes were trained on her too.

“Y/N.” She spoke calmly, hand still steady on the knife. While she knew she’d be dead with his arrow before she could attack him with the knife, she weren’t about to go down without a fight if she had to. Y/N looked at the man, trying to download as much details about him as she could. He wore a long sleeves black shirt with two top buttons missing, a pair of cargo pants that were slightly ripped on some parts and his boots carried the obvious evidence of blood and someone who had been out in the open. Y/N tried not to wince as she stared directly into the man’s eyes. Although his hair covered the side of his face, she could make out his stern expression – an expression of someone who had been surviving on his own. But behind all that, she just had a sense, a strange and unspoken sense that he wasn’t a dangerous man.

“Look, I’m just looking for my brother, all right? I don’t mean to walk into your zone.” Y/N explained. “If you promise not to shoot me, I’ll just turn around and be on my way.”

Adrenaline from meeting a lone stranger in the woods had had blood rushing to her ears, muffling her surrounding sounds. As she prepared to turn and leave, the man spoke again. “Behind ya!” That was when she heard it – the unmistakable sound of a walker behind her. As a reflex, Y/N bent her body forward and side stepped, but in her haste to evade the walker, she had missed her footing. Y/N cursed under her breath but quickly regained her posture. She raised her arm, ready to strike, but before she could, the walker’s dead weight had pushed her, causing her to fall backwards on the hard ground, losing her knife in the process. Y/N quickly worked to fight the walker off but all she heard was the hustling sound of an arrow and the silenced growl from the walker. Feeling the full weight of the walker now, she pushed it off and saw that it had an arrow right smack between it’s eyes. Y/N turned to look at the man as he approached the walker. With one foot on the walker’s head, he pulled out the arrow with one swift motion with his free hand. He then turned sideways to look at Y/N.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“Thanks. I owe you.” Y/N gestured to the walker on the ground as she dusted herself off. “What’s your name?” She smiled.

Daryl was immediately captivated by Y/N’s smile and the sound of her chuckles. Earlier when he had heard someone approaching, he was ready to strike, ready to take them down if he had to. But as he heard Y/N’s voice for the first time, he knew immediately that she was no threat. He hadn’t seen or heard another person’s voice for days. But even if he had, there was something about Y/N’s voice and her smiles that enchanted him. Despite the situation the world was in, Daryl was comforted to see a smile that seemed to make him forget everything else.

��Daryl.”

“I’m sorry again, you know, for walking into you.”

“Sorry for ta’ crossbow on ya head.” Daryl nodded his head slightly at Y/N as apology.

“We’re even then.” Y/N smiled again. It was nice meeting someone else in this crazy world of the dead. Something about Daryl had made her feel a sense of comfort and calm, despite just meeting him a few minutes ago. Daryl looked away, feeling his face flushed from seeing her smiles. There had never been anyone who had that effect on him before. Her smiles were a huge contrast to everything he had come to know in the last ten years. He wanted nothing but to remember them.

[fridayfirefly]

Fairest of the Fair

Read Fairest of the Fair on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 9 - Teen Titans

"We've got five hours until the fair closes. That's five hours of funnel cake, Ferris wheels, and rigged carnival games," announced Dick as they stepped out of the car in the parking lot of the Jump City Fair. It was a tradition for the Teen Titan team to visit the fair every year. At first, it had been an effort to humanize them to the citizens of Jump City, to show that they were more than just superheroes. Now, the reason that the team went every year was simply that it was fun.

"I can't wait to try everything." Marinette had been looking forward to the Jump City Fair all summer. It was her very first American fair, and Gar had promised that he would show her around, giving her the full fair experience.

"C'mon, I smell funnel cake." Gar grabbed Marinette's hand as they ran through the crowds.

Marinette laughed. "I was coming with you, you don't need to pull me along."

Gar let go of her hand and pouted. "We need to get there faster. Just think of all the funnel cake we're missing out on while we're standing around talking."

"We can still hurry. I just don't want to run into anyone." Marinette giggled as she followed Gar through the crowd. He wove in between the crowds of people like an expert, scampering right through the chaos of the fair crowds without disturbing a single person. Marinette found it a little more difficult - she was much less nimble than Gar, but every time she fell behind he waited for her to catch up.

"I followed the smell of funnel cake right to its source and here we are." Gar stopped in front of a food stand proclaiming itself to be All-American Funnel Cake. "This is the best cuisine America has to offer."

"Of course. Everyone knows that the greatest American delicacies are carnival food. Who needs gourmet crêpes and macaroons when you can have funnel cake and corn dogs?" joked Marinette.

"Exactly. I'll order our food, you find us a seat."

Marinette strolled through the seating area, trying to find a bench that wasn't covered in syrup and melted ice cream. When she finally found a suitably clean chair, she collapsed into it. She was already sweating from the hot August sun beating down on her, and she couldn't wait to get her hands on something to drink.

"I got the funnel cake and lemonade," said Gar as he set them down on the table.

Marinette grabbed the cup of lemonade and took a long sip of it, savoring the chill. "It's so hot out here. How do you stand it?"

Gar shrugged. "It's all part of the fair experience. It's miserably hot in the day, but it still manages to get uncomfortably chilly once the sun goes down. That's why I brought a jacket."

Marinette shook her head. "If I were wearing a jacket right now, I would probably pass out from heatstroke. Your ability to withstand extreme heat must be one of your superpowers if you aren't even sweating."

"Stop talking about me and start talking about funnel cake," Gar whinged. "You came all the way to America just to try some."

Marinette laughed. "I came all the way to America to join the Teen Titans. The funnel cake is just a bonus." Taking a generous bite of the carnival food, Marinette proclaimed, "I like it."

"Yes!" Gar cheered. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and marked something down. "Step one: have Marinette try funnel cake. Complete."

"You have a list?"

"Your first-ever fair is an important occasion. I want to make sure you didn't miss out on anything."

Marinette smiled. "That's sweet of you. So what are we doing after this."

"After this, we play the rigged carnival games. Then we ride one of the many spinning rides. Then we'll get roasted cinnamon almonds. Then we check out some of the art competitions. Last but not least, we ride the Ferris wheel as the sun sets. Then we meet up at the car with the rest of the Titans to watch the fireworks and go home after."

"That all sounds like fun to me." Marinette finished her lemonade and funnel cake, then turned to Gar. "Ready to go lose at some carnival game?"

"I was born ready." Garfield grabbed Marinette's hand and led her to the carnival game. There was a hoop toss game, a game where you popped water balloons using oversized darts, a game of knocking down coke bottles with baseballs, something vaguely resembling ski-ball.

"Which one should I pick?" asked Marinette.

"They're all varying degrees of impossible, so just pick the game with the best prizes."

Marinette scanned the rows of colorful stuffed animals until she saw the one she wanted, on a shelf beside the ski-ball tracks. "I want the green kitten," she exclaimed, pointing.

"Why?" Gar sounded amused by her enthusiasm.

"It reminds me of you," Marinette admitted.

Gar smiled. "Okay, I'll help you win. We'll win it together."

Ski-ball was harder than Marinette remembered. After twenty minutes and twenty dollars, she and Gar still hadn't managed to get all ten ski-balls into their respective holes.

"Face it, Gar, we just aren't good enough to win."

Gar shook his head. "I'm not leaving until I win you that kitten. One more set of ski-balls." He handed a five-dollar bill to the game attendant. "Do you want the first ball?"

"Sure, but this is the last time we play. I'm not letting you spend all of our food money on this ridiculously impossible game." Marinette grabbed the first four balls off of the counter and gently rolled each one of them up into the first hole, and Gar successfully rolled the next four balls - the first eight were easy. It was the ninth and tenth ball that they failed on. "I'll take nine." Marinette brought her arm back, then swung it forward and released the ninth fall. It landed perfectly into the ninth hole. "It's all on you, Gar."

He narrowed his eyes, plucking the ball off of the counter. This was the closest they had gotten to winning. He swung the ball forward, tracking the arc with his eyes until it... landed right in the final hole.

"You did it!" Marinette cheered, grabbing Gar's hand and lifting it up in the air. "Winner!"

"Here's your green cat." The game attendant handed the stuffed toy to Marinette, who clutched it against her chest.

"I love it! I'm naming him Milo and keeping him forever."

"Alright, now that you've won your first rigged carnival game, you and Milo need to pick out one of the many rides here to try it." Gar pulled a map of the fairground out of his pocket and started pointing out rides. "I recommend the Merry-Go-Round, the Tilt-A-Whirl, and the Paratrooper."

"Which one is closest?"

"The Tilt-A-Whirl is just to the left and around the corner."

Marinette grabbed Gar's hand and pulled him along. "Let's go!"

Together they ran through crowds of people, darting around people and out of the way to avoid bumping into anyone. They made it to the Tilt-A-While and rode until Marinette got so dizzy she couldn't walk in a straight line and Gar laughed so hard his face turned red. Then Gar and Marinette made their way to the Merry-Go-Round, where they rode it a couple of times. Then they met up with Dick and Kori and got more carnival snacks with their friends.

"Say cheese!" instructed Marinette as she paused to take a picture of her friends for the official Teen Titans Instagram account.

Kori grinned and pulled Dick closer to her. Gar reached for the camera in Marinette's hands. "Turn the camera around and make it a selfie."

Marinette did as instructed, moving her own head in front of the camera and grinning as she took the picture. She quickly typed a caption. Enjoying cinnamon glazed almonds (Beast Boy's favorite) and butterbeer at the fair. Hope everyone's having a great day in Jump City! "And... post!"

Marinette sat down to enjoy the snacks, Gar slipping his hand into Marinette's. "Try the cinnamon almonds first, they're delicious."

"They'd better be," teased Marinette. "You've been hyping them up all week."

"I could write poems about these almonds, they're so good. And I know I could probably get them any day of the year, but I only ever get them when we go to the fair so that they never lose their appeal."

Marinette popped a handful in her mouth and hummed in appreciation. "Oh, these are good. I'm going to have to get a recipe for these, so I can make homemade cinnamon almonds."

Gar's eyes lit up. "Homemade cinnamon almonds. That might be the best combination of words I've ever heard in my life."

Marinette playfully narrowed her eyes. "What about 'I love you.'"

Gar's eyes widened. "Um, third-best combination then. Right after when you told me, 'I love you', and when I told you, 'I love you.'"

"Good save. The execution could use some work though. I give it an eight out of ten," joked Dick.

"I'll be generous, and give it an eight point five," added Kori.

"Hey, only I get to tease him," protested Marinette as she gazed at Gar lovingly. "Now feed me more almonds."

Marinette ate another serving of almonds and drank two glasses of butterbeer before Dick and Kori decided to separate from them and find the trapeze tent. Gar got his list back out, checked off the activities they had already completed, and announced, "Now it's time for more rides. Paratroopers, here we come!"

Just a few minutes later, Marinette was pressed against Gar's side as their cart swung through the air. "This is nice," said Marinette. "The Jump City Fair gets the Ladybug stamp of approval."

"Just wait until you see the fireworks. The grand finale is amazing. You'll love it," promised Gar.

"I bet I will." Marinette rested her head on Gar's shoulder as she watched the world spin around them.

When they got off the ride, Marinette and Gar walked hand-in-hand to the art competition tents, where paintings were hanging all around the tents.

"Look at this one!" Gar pointed to a painting of the Teen Titans in action, fighting the H.I.V.E. Five in the streets of downtown Jump City. "This one has my vote!" Gar called out.

"Shush," said Marinette with a laugh. "You're biased."

"Nope. No bias here. Just pointing out what is objectively the best painting he's ever seen."

"Oh really. If you're such an impartial judge, tell me why it's objectively the best painting."

"Because you're in it, Buginette." Gar grinned at her, pointing at Ladybug in the picture, fighting Jinx with her yoyo.

Marinette laughed. "You're so cheesy."

"To be fair, you did walk right into that one," Gar defended himself as they left the art tent. "If you're going to leave yourself vulnerable to compliments, I'm going to take that opportunity to compliment you."

"Oh, look at the sunset!" exclaimed Marinette as she saw the yellow, pink, and orange sky.

Gar slipped his hand into Marinette's. "It doesn't hold a candle to you."

Marinette got onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're too sweet. Now let's go ride that Ferris wheel."

Gar and Marinette walked to the Ferris wheel hand in hand, getting into a car and riding it all the way to the top, where they could see the sunset reflecting off of the ocean.

"You were right, it does get cold," said Marinette with a shiver.

"Here, take mine." Gar took off his jean jacket, laying it across Marinette's shoulders.

Marinette smiled. "How about we split the coat while we're up here. We'll just have to squeeze together." Marinette pressed herself up against Gar, moving the jacket so that it draped over both of their shoulders. Sighing softly, Marinette watched Gar with a smile on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Gar.

"I just don't want to forget this moment."

"I can fix that." Gar pulled his phone out of his pocket, started a video, and turned his camera around so they were both in frame. "How are you feeling, Buginette?"

Marinette kissed his cheek, then smiled for the camera. "Perfect."

"Jump City Fair is a success." Gar ended the video as the Ferris wheel started up again, moving them back down to the ground.

"Every day with you is a success."

The fireworks started as they walked back to the car, bright and colorful. Marinette slid her hand into Gar's gently rubbing circles with her thumb. She knew that he used to be scared of fireworks - still was, a little bit - as a result of his animal tendency. Gar flinched back as the boom of fireworks sounded above him.

"Focus on my voice," said Marinette. "I love you. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. I love you more than all the drops of water in the ocean. I love you forever."

Gar wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I know. I love you too."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[st-just]

A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne 

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers. 

Or, well, housed. 

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent. 

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet. 

Faction of Note: The Hierophant 

    Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant. 

    No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile. 

    The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy. 

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar 

    Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those). 

    And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow. 

    One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again. 

Faction of Note: The Hellworks 

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck. 

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her. 

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with. 

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide. 

Faction of Note: The Dreamers 

    There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing. 

    Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea. 

    No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea. 

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company 

    When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company. 

    Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in. 

    Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home. 

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way. 

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade 

    Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea. 

    Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes. 

    While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’. 

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

    Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time. 

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something). 

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out. 

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears. 

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds 

    The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process. 

    While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter. 

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice. 

Faction of Note: Regate Prison 

    Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually. 

    The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient. 

    Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there. 

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

    Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ‘miraculous’ potions and tonics. 

    While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid. 

    The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him. 

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for. 

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

    What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world. 

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories. 

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to. 

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

    Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever. 

    Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit. 

    Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough. 

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long. 

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over. 

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities. 

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach. 

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft. 

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century. 

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with. 

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore. 

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

[innranrae]

🐚 A Birthday Amidst the Archipelago

A/N: oneshot for my fav russian boys bday, i included the golden apple archipelago bc it was the most fun event/area I've experienced in genshin so far and I'll miss it a lot but at least it's inazuma and electro aether time, anyways hope you enjoy this and if you have suggestions/tips on writing or anything please lmk! I'm new to it all and I'm trying my best ;w; my friend proofread this tho and shes big brain so id say this one is pretty swaggy

￫ pairing(s): Zhongli/Childe, Aether/Venti (kinda platonic tbh), Venti and Dvalin vibing

￫ word count: ~ 3k

￫ cw: alcohol

￫ ao3

🏖️

Zhongli sensed a large being coming from the skies of Duyun Ruins. He did not want to believe it, but his doubts were soon confirmed.

Dvalin descended from the clouds with a heavy thud, sending the living creatures around either running or flying. Mounted on the Dragon of the East were Venti and Aether; The bard wore a pair of sunglasses and a light attire that shocked Zhongli to the core, he had thought the anemo archon could not get any more ludicrous, but it appears he was mistaken.

A slight frown grew on his face watching the scene and the geo archon couldn���t help but raise his palm to his face, sighing. On the flip side, Childe was astonished; his eyes sparkled observing Dvalin, considering what the outcome would be if they were to fight.

—

2 days earlier

“Traveler,

It has been some time since we last saw each other. I do hope your ventures are going smoothly.

I am writing to you to request assistance with an event that will take place two days from now. As you may know, Childe’s birthday is on the 20th of this month and I have been finding it hard to come up with a suitable gift. I wish to surprise him but nothing that fits my criteria comes to mind, in addition to the fact I am still adjusting to mortal life and their festivals.

If you do not mind and, of course, if you are free that day, I hope you can help me with this matter.

Zhongli”

After sending his letter to Aether, Zhongli straightened his shoulders on the stool at one of Heyu Tea House’s tables, raising a cup of steaming tea to his mouth, and waited for his guest to arrive.

“Receiving an invitation from Mr. Zhongli first sure feels nice,” a voice shouted coming from the stairs.

Zhongli glanced at the harbinger who took a seat by his side, “Childe, do you have any plans for your birthday?”

Childe widened his eyes slightly, “Birthday?” He raised his hand thoughtfully to his face. “Oh, my birthday! Hm… Is Mr. Zhongli planning on giving me some type of gift?” The harbinger smiled playfully.

“Please answer my question.”

“Nope! None at all.”

In actuality, Childe should be busy taking care of the Fatui’s business around Liyue; unfortunately for his underlings, he was going to do whatever he wanted either way. Additionally, he had a feeling Mr. Zhongli’s question was not trivial, and speculated the archon probably wanted to make plans.

“I see."

Unexpectedly, instead of proceeding on that topic, Zhongli said nothing more as he took another sip of his tea.

Despite the surprising lack of further development, he forgot about it as soon as Zhongli started to talk about a Ruin Hunter he encountered the prior day in the fields.

He knew by now what topics intrigued Childe's simple warrior mind, and that alone had Childe rambling about fighting tactics and his own experiences to Zhongli, occasionally trying to convince the archon to fight him, which he politely refused.

—

Meanwhile, at the Golden Apple Archipelago...

"I could really use a hand over here, Venti!" Aether's cry for help could barely be heard over the shrieking group of hilichurls advancing one after the other.

"But I-"

After unleashing a wind vortex from his palm, Aether glared at the bard, who was leisurely plucking the strings of his lyre on top of a rock. "Playing a battle song isn't helping!" He cut Venti off, resulting in the end of Venti's untimely concert with lots of whining.

After jumping off the rock, the bard shot an arrow that sent the group of monsters flying altogether.

The pair had a short-lived moment of relief, but soon the eerie sound of a horn was heard, indicating that more enemies were on their way. Aether groaned while Venti giggled nervously, and so, they had to return to their combat stances.

Not long after engaging, the traveler heard a short sound that made him stop his blade.

“Oh, I’ve got mail,” Aether walked a few steps from the fighting, reading the message while leaving the bard to get the monsters’ attention.

Venti's eyes widened at the sudden rush of monsters coming directly at him, though luckily, he sent them flying once again.

“Woah~ Don’t do that so suddenly, traveler, so mean!”

After reading Zhongli’s message, Aether was deep in thought, looking around as if searching for something, until his eyes met the green-colored ones of the anemo archon that reciprocated the eye contact, with a touch of wonder.

Zhongli opened the new mail he received, analyzing the few words Aether had sent.

“Meet us by Duyun Ruins at 9 in the morning, bring Childe with you.”

“Meet us? If I am not mistaken, Paimon has been staying with Xiangling, and didn’t show any signs of wanting to leave any time soon. Perhaps she can easily travel back and forth,” Zhongli thought to himself.

—

Present Day, Duyun Ruins

Jumping from the dragon’s back, Venti beamed, “Morax! Long time no see~!” Arms wide open as he threw himself towards his old friend. But before he got too close, Zhongli shielded himself, and instead of a hug, Venti’s face was compressed against the solid surface of the geo shield.

Venti staggered a step back from the impact, raising his hand to his cheek, now starting to swell, “Ow!” He pouted.

Zhongli tried to keep his cool, throwing a look at the two boys who recently arrived,waiting for an explanation.

Aether catches on the meaningful gaze and reassures, “Don’t worry, I think we avoided being noticed by anyone.”

“Yeah, Dvalin here is… Well, he tries to be discreet when flying around. After all, I was the one who taught him that~" Venti put a hand on the dragon's body while the other gave Zhongli a thumbs up.

"Saying you were the one who taught him does not reassure me one bit…" Zhongli’s veins were protruding from distress by now. "Aside from that, aren't you supposed to be more careful not to expose your identity in front of the common folk?"

The three other men stared at Zhongli in confusion, exchanging looks between themselves, "Common folk?" Venti asked. Childe was the first to realize he was probably talking about him and began laughing at the Zhongli's seemingly forgetfulness.

"Morax, you sure only remember what you want, huh. Even I know from the traveler's stories that this boy here is the eleventh harbinger of the Fatui. If that harbinger lady took my gnosis, I'm sure this kid knows my identity by now," Venti reassured while Aether slowly nodded, feeling second-hand embarrassment.

Zhongli was at a loss for words, raising his fist to his mouth, awkwardly coughing. On the other hand, the harbinger found the situation quite funny and patted Morax's back a few times while giggling.

Zhongli met Aether's eyes, "Nevertheless, what I desire to know is why that bard and his dragon are here?"

"Well, you’ll see when we get there," Aether reassured, getting back on the dragon's back along with Venti.

Childe cheerfully jumped on, extending his hand down to the geo archon who bashfully accepted, pointedly ignoring the meaningful grins the two other boys directed at him. And with little effort, Dvalin took off to the Golden Apple Archipelago.

The Snezhnayan boy's eyes gleamed with excitement from his first-ever experience that high up, sitting between behind Aether and in front of Zhongli.

Though, his laxity almost made the reddish mask on his hair fly away, luckily being rescued by the man behind him.

"Thank you!" The powerful gushes of wind made his words difficult to understand, yet enough for Zhongli to understand them.

If any normal person would travel through the clouds in the back of a dragon for the first time in their life, surely they would practice caution or be a little wary of their surroundings.

However, because Childe was Childe, an expert in adapting fast to just about anything, the journey on the skies was far from frightening.

A few minutes had passed and the boys were already close to their destination, and with his usual carefree expression, Venti looked back at the men behind him, yelling as Dvalin descended, "Hold on tight!"

With another loud thud, Dvalin settled at the northwestern part of Twinning Isle. Aether grew anxious in anticipation, waiting for Childe to see the preparations that he and Venti had come up with in such a short timeframe.

They had the inspiration from Alice's surprise for Klee, though not as crafty as she was. With the help of Tubby back in the Serenitea Pot, he managed to decorate the place nicely with newly crafted objects.

Umbrellas and chairs painted a light shade of sky blue sat next to fishing rods, Sea Ganodermas and conches decorated the sand in a path leading to a gazebo, which had seashells and starfishes hang from the wooden ceiling, surrounded by curtains.

And inside of it, one chest stored miscellaneous things, while the one next to it contained something that Venti declared extremely necessary: summer clothing he managed to acquire. In addition to the clothes he prepared, the anemo archon was also tasked with providing the food and drinks.

Visibly so as there were at least three bottles of either dandelion or osmanthus wine for every single dish on the table. Which, of course, was all paid for with the traveler's Mora.

All in all, the table was charmingly organized. A cake with a whale drawn on top of it sat in the middle of it all, while balloons were tied to the wooden table.

Upon reaching the sand, Childe was fascinated. The ocean breeze brushing against his face, the warm sunlight of the Archipelago and the salty waves gently crashing onto the tide united all the scenery together.

He’d never seen such a tropical place in his life, so unfamiliar in comparison to his frozen homeland's weather and features.

Lost in admiration for the scenery, he had already forgotten that it was his birthday, only remembering when Zhongli called out his name, directing him to look ahead where the decorated area was put, in preparation for the celebration to commence.

Venti leaned back against Dvalin's tail, already playing a melody, as the other three walked along the decorated path.

Aether fastened his steps, going ahead and getting a small box. Then, turning back to the birthday boy, he extended the gift.

"Happy birthday, Childe."

The harbinger let out a small "thank you" before opening it.

His blue eyes twinkled as he grabbed the content inside the box for closer examination. It was a bright piece of wood with a smaller version of him, Teucer and Aether drawn on it, as well as a ruin guard, or “Mr. Cyclops” as his little brother would say, stood behind them.

Without thinking, Childe embraced Aether tightly with a wide smile across his face, and at the display of the ginger’s excitement, the traveler couldn't help but feel accomplished.

After the gift was exchanged, Venti pointed out the clothes he had prepared, which made Zhongli flinch at the thought of wearing sunglasses as eccentric as his. Luckily, they were just lighter clothes, not accessories.

Childe, already excited from the exotic scenery, went on ahead to change his clothes behind a tall rock.

Zhongli and Aether walked towards the same location, at a much slower pace than the Snezhnayan boy, who was already out of sight.

“Thank you for your efforts, traveler. You managed to surprise me as well,” Zhongli finally got the chance to say.

“It was no problem at all. I’m having fun and the ‘tone-deaf bard’ was a great help, too.”

Childe emerged from behind the rock suddenly, wearing shorts and a shirt that was presumably supposed to be buttoned up. As a matter of fact, all the attires were of a similar design, the few differences being their color schemes, a few patterns, and the boy’s usual accessories.

Before any reaction, they heard monstrous noises getting closer to the shelter. A group of hilichurls nearby seemed to have been alarmed by the dragon’s arrival.

Something inside Childe’s mind clicked and he immediately turned the way of the shrieks, getting ready to fight, “Leave them to me!”

“Oh I was counting on that,” Aether affirmed as Venti nodded. Knowing very well of the harbinger’s passion for fighting, they speculated about the attack and gladly attached it to the list of events for that day.

Aether’s words were thrown at no one though, since Childe had left as soon as those four words left his lips earlier, leaving no time to receive any reaction from the others.

Bad luck for those poor hilichurls, honestly.

Childe's hydro blades moved swiftly, leaving droplets in the sand as they slashed one after the other, ending each almost instantly, leaving little space for a counterattack. He only stopped moving when there were no more of the monsters around, either because they were actually all dead or ran away from fear.

Coming back to the shelter’s path, Childe saw that they were now fishing, which made him joyfully run to join them, and noticing that he was back, Zhongli offered Childe a fishing rod and a seat next to himself.

“Oh man, this takes me back to the old days with my dad,” The ginger said while settling down on the beach chair, “Though the temperatures are the complete opposite, haha. I wonder if my family would survive the extreme change in the weather, though.”

Zhongli and Aether listened attentively while holding their rods, all the while, the anemo archon, visibly tipsy, communicated with Dvalin nearby.

“How come you managed to adapt this easily to the sudden climate change, Childe?” Zhongli asked.

“A warrior must always adapt to any situation. If I let the heat get the best of me, I'm weakened, consequently leaving myself open to enemy attacks."

"Damn, he never changes. If it isn't about his family, the answer is always related to being a fighter… Well, it is almost comforting in a way." Aether thought, mentallyrolling his eyes while taking a sip of the drink Venti had given him.

"I see," Zhongli seriously responded, "It is indeed true. Keeping one's body and mind stable is a must when facing laborious challenges."

Childe was filled with joy upon hearing the acknowledgement. It was always pleasant to hear someone who understood his point of view.

The traveler shifted his attention upon feeling a small force pulling down the

rod.

A fish had finally taken the bait, and the eyes of the two men also moved towards him when they heard the small "oh" Aether let out.

They all rejoiced at the successful catch and its size, and the traveler went straight ahead to prepare a meal for them.

—

As the day went by, they had almost checked everything on the task list; They fished for a while, Aether showed the mechanisms and puzzles that Klee's mom prepared, even landing his Harpastum so Childe could try them, he also taught them how to ride and summon the Waverider, they exchanged various anecdotes, as well as how the traveler came across the Archipelago in the first place, describing the whole Dodo King saga, and finally, filled themselves with food and drinks.

The sun rapidly fell under the horizon, merging the last colored rays of marigold into the indigo night sky. Venti had managed to convince the traveler to drink with him throughout the day and, needless to say, they were quite drunk by now, though both of them had a high tolerance and were somehow still acting civilized.

While Dvalin slept, the four men sat on the sand, listening to Venti sing around the crackling campfire.

When the bard began to sing a piece about Snezhnaya, Childe seemed to have recalled something.

He shuffled through his belongings, grabbing a bottle with a clear liquid, “This was a gift I received earlier, it’s a Snezhnayan specialty alcohol, Fire-Water!”

Aether gulped nervously at the familiar name. He had heard the stories around Mondstadt, how Master Diluc spent three days in bed after drinking a single glass of it, leading to the unsuccessful partnership with the Snezhnayan merchants.

Childe poured the liquid into separate cups and went around distributing them to the boys. Sitting back in his original spot, he continued, “As per tradition, we have to down the cup in one go!”

Venti was all in for the proposal, and despite their concern at first, Zhongli and Aether respected the birthday boy’s wish.

After raising their cups in a toast, they all drank the beverage at once.

Childe cheered, rambling about how he missed the taste of the drink. Zhongli seemed to be unaffected, calm as always, smiling and listening to the Snezhnayan boy.

However, Aether didn’t seem so well, he had expected the feeling, but because of the previous drinks he shared with the bard, it seemed to have had a stronger effect on him.

Aether wasn't the most affected by the drink, though.

That one shot was the ultimatum for Venti. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t stop laughing, which alarmed the others, but before they could take action and ask what was wrong, the archon fell into the sand, a grin on his face as he passed out.

After the realization of what just happened, Aether was the first to talk, “Um, I’ll take him to the shelter. I’m feeling a bit… dizzy too. I’ll get some sleep, haha,” He was making a great effort to sound coherent.

“Hope you enjoyed your day, Childe.”

A sincere smile was directed towards the boy sitting next to Zhongli. That expression warmed Childe’s heart. Aether had put great effort into this whole day and he could tell.

Childe was about to open his mouth to say something after the traveler turned his back to them while carrying Venti, but was stopped by the blonde, “Oh, there’s something I forgot to say. If you go west from here you will find another island with a shipwreck on top of the, um… Rock structure thing. It’s a good place to watch the stars. Anyways, hehe, good night.”

That piqued the two tall men’s interest, and after watching Aether and Venti enter the shelter, Childe looked at Zhongli, who was already standing up, as if he shared the same idea as the other.

A short cruise to the Nameless Isle later, Zhongli and Childe were already walking side by side through the tide, leaving steady footprints on the sand’s surface.

When the two stopped to both admire the place and look for a way to get to the top of the rocky mountain, Zhongli noticed a mural on the rock, which showed a shipwreck and what seemed to be a few people trying to save each other.

The archon was pondering about the meaning of it when he heard Childe’s voice from behind him.

“Mr. Zhongli, there’s a wind current over here!”

Zhongli went to the other’s location, noticing the current that led to the top of the mountain.

Without much effort, both of them got to the original destination: The shipwreck Aether mentioned.

It was indeed a tragic but beautiful place; a place where one could watch the azure starry sky, pale moon glowing brightly.

The two found a spot to sit near the ship that once sailed the seas, and watched the galaxies above them.

Childe offered another shot of the Fire-Water, which the both of them shared. Zhongli closed his eyes, deep in thought.

He had been trying to find the chance to give Childe his birthday gift, but he couldn’t find the opportunity to do so. Finally, now seemed like the perfect time.

He reopened his eyes and stared at Childe, who was watching the sky attentively, blue eyes shining unitedly with the stars.

“Childe.”

Upon hearing his name, he turned to look at the archon.

“Give me your hand,” Zhongli said, reaching his own towards the harbinger.

Childe automatically did so, and after searching for an object on the pocket of his shorts, Zhongli put the present on the other’s palm.

It was a single earring made of Noctilucous Jade and Cor Lapis, in a similar fashion as the one earring Childe normally wore.

“This reminded me of you when I saw it. If you do not wish to wear it, I understand, but I do hope you could keep it with you.”

Zhongli said that but the harbinger was already taking off his original earring, making the archon a bit embarrassed at the impulsiveness of the boy, yet very pleased.

Childe had been rambling about the, now, old earring and how he had gotten it in the first place, but after a while of no response from Zhongli, he gazed at him, being met by the image of the geo archon fast asleep.

Zhongli had a high alcohol tolerance, but with the nightfall, his drowsiness had grown to an almost unbearable level, and now, he was finally subdued by it.

Ajax couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his expression softened and he decided it was time for him to rest too.

He had never had a better birthday in his life.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #22: Left in the Dark

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: Modern AU, Airport Lemon: No CW: None

A flash of lightning brightens the whole sky once more. Four seconds later, the low rumbling of thunder pierces the pattering sounds of rain hitting the large windows of the airport. The glass is working especially hard today to keep the raging storm at bay, and it doubles as the only source of light in this massive blackout.

Elsa presses her palm against the cold glass. All around her, people are expressing their fear over how long this blackout will last, calling loved ones to tell them their flights have been delayed, or are meeting this darkness with great indifference. She envies all these people, wishing she could feel something that isn’t gut-wrenching guilt.

When she pulls her hand away from the glass, her imprint from the condensation trickles and fades moments later. The last update they received before the power went out was that the weather conditions would be keeping all planes grounded for at least four hours. If people chose to catch a flight tomorrow instead, they’d be reimbursed for the inconvenience.

A lot of people chose that option, but Elsa decided to wait. She didn’t want to spend any more time in Denver than she needed to.

An hour later, when the power went out, everyone including Elsa who decided to stick around began wondering if they made the right choice. She jumps as she feels the phone in her back pocket vibrate. Hesitantly, she pulls it out and is relieved to see that it’s just a message from her mother, telling Elsa to be safe no matter what she chooses to do.

It’s not like she’s stranded in unknown territory, she still has a couple of friends from college in the city who might let her stay over for a night. And if that fails, she has enough money for an Uber ride and a hotel room. But the stormy skies aren’t the only dark clouds in Denver that she wants to leave behind, so it looks like she’s staying.

Air traffic workers outside are desperately setting up flares and other alternate sources of light on the airfield, and no doubt the airport’s technicians are working to get at least the backup power working. They won’t stay in darkness for too long, she hopes, even if it feels somewhat calming at this moment. But what else can she do to pass the time for the next few hours? Text her friends and hope they’re up for a three-hour conversation? Edit her resume? Take a nap while snuggling her backpack and duffle bag to keep anything from being stolen?

“Wow,” she says, speaking her first word since yesterday. “My life really is just one big pile of nothing, huh?”

Her existential crisis is interrupted by the gentle plucking of guitar strings that cuts through the torrential silence. It’s familiarity compels Elsa to grab her things and find the source of the melody, and though her hearing is heightened by the darkness, she uses her phone’s flashlight to guide her way so she doesn’t step on anyone. The guitar strings guide her along and bring her closer before they’re accompanied by another sound: a sweet, gentle voice comfortably singing the lyrics to the song.

Ooh thinkin about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free

The girl singing it sounds far too young for the lyrics to pertain to her, and yet her alto voice still carries a reminiscent feel to what she’s saying. Elsa follows the secret siren up to the aisle she thinks she’s sitting in, just as the girl reaches the chorus. Though she keeps her voice down to a near whisper, Elsa can’t help but sing along as well.

Baby you’re all that I want when you’re lying here in my arms I’m finding it hard to believe we’re in Heaven

However, the music stops before the chorus ends and Elsa is left singing the last three words by herself. She purses her lips, mortified, taking a step back just in case she’s told to get lost.

“Why’d you stop singing? Your voice is really pretty.”

Now, Elsa’s even more embarrassed. She has enough common sense to realize the voice asking that question is the same voice that brought her here, but not enough to keep from shining her phone’s flashlight on her. Fortunately, the light only gets up to the girl’s chest before Elsa yelps and turns it off. Which isn't that much better, but she’ll take any victory she can get right now.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you heard me,” Elsa replies.

The girl chuckles, “Was I not supposed to hear you?”

“No, I mean I don’t know, I-I…” Elsa sighs, “I was embarrassed, I guess.”

“Well how about you stop being embarrassed and sit down?” It’s such a gentle command that Elsa doesn’t realize she could have said no until she’s used her phone’s flashlight to find an open seat right next to the mystery guitar girl. “So are you a big Bryan Adams fan or do you just know that one song?”

Darkness paints the corner they’re in and keeps Elsa from getting a good sense of who she’s talking to. It makes for one of the most interesting conversations she’s ever had. “Oh, I only know a couple of his songs, but I wouldn’t say I’m like a huge fan. A-are you?”

“Not really, but I’m a sucker for those classic love ballads, you know?”

Elsa nods before realizing she’s not going to see that. “Yeah, I know.”

She hears the woman adjust in her chair and the guitar strings squeak as she runs her fingers along the frets. “Alright, let’s see if you know this one.”

Before Elsa can ask what she’s doing, there’s a gentle yet deliberate strumming of the guitar strings unlike the soft fingerpicking from before. And once again, the woman begins to sing a song that Elsa’s quick to recognize.

And I’d give up forever to touch you Cause I know that you feel me somehow You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now

“I know this song too,” Elsa interjects with more excitement in her voice than she’s expecting. “It’s by the Goo Goo Dolls, right?”

The woman stops her singing, much to Elsa’s unexpected disappointment. “That’s right, Iris.”

“A-actually my name’s Elsa.”

“What?”

“Hmm?” Elsa cringes, realizing her mistake. “Oh gosh, you weren’t calling me…you were saying the name…of the song.”

She prepares herself for the laughter, but it never comes. “Elsa, huh? That’s a really pretty name, I like it.”

“You do? I- wow, that’s…I mean, thank you. For that.” This is so strange, she’s usually much better at talking than this, she has a degree in it for goodness sakes. But there’s something that’s keeping her tongue-tied and ruining her common sense. Maybe this woman really is a siren. “I’m from Rhode Island.”

“Elsa from Rhode Island,” the woman says like she’s trying to make sense of those words in that order. “Well you’ve got a very pretty voice, Elsa. My name is Anna. From Arizona.”

Anna. The name fits, even though Elsa doesn’t actually know anything about her, not even what she looks like. “Nice to meet you, Anna from Arizona.” Though they’re in the dark, Elsa can feel that Anna’s smiling at her. Maybe because Elsa’s smiling too.

“Alright, you’ve established your knowledge of the oldies…” Anna begins to strum a soft, basic chord progression. “Let’s see if you know something a little more modern.”

Elsa’s not a music expert in the slightest but she still listens intently, if only to hear more of Anna’s beautiful voice. When she begins to sing, they’re lyrics that Elsa doesn’t recognize.

I hear the beast, its awful cry, but never see its face I feel the water coming down, it’s keeping me in place And in this stormy weather, though I should be so afraid I’m with the one who makes it fade away

Anna continues to sing, and Elsa is torn because she doesn’t know what this song is but she feels like she should. The voice accompanying the words make them sound much more beautiful and earnest, but the song is unrecognizable. When Anna begins to hum instead of sing, Elsa admits defeat. “I-I think you win, I’m not sure what this song is.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Anna says, abruptly ending the song. “Because it’s one of mine.”

Elsa gasps, “Not fair.”

She can sense the victorious grin on Anna’s face. “Hey, it’s a modern song. I started writing it today actually, well okay maybe writing isn’t the best word for it.”

“You wrote that today?” Elsa asks. “Have you written any other songs?”

“Yeah I’ve written a few, some of them are actually pretty good too, I think: Whenever I’ve got something in my head, I pick up my guitar and record my thoughts. I’m not trying to be the next Taylor Swift or something, but it…yeah it helps.”

A flash of lightning paints the windows and illuminates Anna’s silhouette for a moment, not long enough or bright enough to see any details other than the shape of her hair. It surprises Elsa when she realizes just how much she wants to see what Anna looks like. A minute ago, she didn’t even know this woman existed and now she finds herself considering the stupid idea of shining her phone’s flashlight on Anna’s face. Because nothing says “good impression” like blinding someone.

Another realization hits her, though it’s more of an unhelpful observation: Has it really been so long since she’s been attracted to someone that she’s falling for a random woman at the airport with a beautiful voice and nice…manners? Pathetic, she doesn’t actually know anything about Anna other than she writes songs and is from Arizona.

Hoping to at least remedy that, she searches her mind for something to ask. Something casual but informative. But Anna beats her to it.

“So Elsa from Rhode Island, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

Elsa nods out of habit as thunder roars outside the airport walls, “Uh y-yeah, just a little bit yeah. And you’re…not that far from home, Anna from Arizona.”

Anna giggles like Elsa said something funny. “No, well not yet. I’m actually going to New Jersey and figured I’d save some money by taking a couple of connected flights instead of flying straight there. My parents are renewing their vows and of course they want me to be there for the ceremony. Remember that song I was singing? Heaven? That’s actually their song and I’m gonna surprise them by playing it.”

“That’s really sweet,” Elsa replies, relieved that she bit her tongue before making a joke about New Jersey. She hears a tap on hollow wood and the squeak of guitar strings as Anna slides her hand across them. She eagerly anticipates another song, but instead she gets another question.

“What about you? Any vow renewals waiting for you in Rhode Island?”

Elsa giggles, but it’s not as pretty or confident as her companion’s. “Ah no, there’s nothing…waiting for me back home.” Wow, that answer was much more depressing than she wanted it to be. Even if it’s true. “Well I mean there’s my parents. And my apartment. I guess my job counts too but other than that, there’s nothing else.” She feels like she’s making things worse.

“Oh dear.” There’s a heaviness in Anna’s reply, but Elsa doesn’t hear any pity which she’s grateful for. No one should pity her for the life she’s chosen. “So why’d you come to Denver? It’s not exactly a top vacation destination right now. Unless you like rain.”

“I love rain,” Elsa replies far too excitedly, as if rain is like her favorite thing in the world. “But no, I didn’t come here for a vacation. I…I came here…”

“Hey.”

Elsa’s startled by a hand that lands first on her upper arm and then on her shoulder. It’s soft, gentle, and she hopes it belongs to Anna or else this is getting awkward.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” Anna continues. But that’s the thing, Elsa feels very comfortable around Anna and she can’t explain why. All she can do is see and now feel her, but there’s something about Anna that makes her feel safe and trusted. Moreso than even her therapist.

Elsa sighs, the heaviness of this weekend’s events once again piling on her, hoping this will help her let it go. “I came here to call off my engagement with my…with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s- gosh, I’m so sorry that must have been really hard.”

Elsa shakes her head. “Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

“I know, but in my mind I thought you were like running from the law or something.”

“I wouldn’t have told you my real name if that were the case.” And she definitely wouldn’t be out in such a public place for so long, blackout or not.

“Wait so Elsa’s really your name?”

“Yes?”

“Holy shit, that’s pretty. I bet you’re like secretly royalty, aren’t you?”

“Nope, I’m just boring Elsa from boring Rhode Island.”

“Oh please. Boring people don’t get engaged.”

“…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it-it’s alright. The breakup doesn’t hurt as much as it should, it was a long time coming and I prepared myself for it. But it just happened, I’d feel bad joking about it so soon.”

Though talking with Anna helps, the darkness still plays with her perception. In her mind, she’s constantly playing back the exact moment she took off the ring and gave it back to Hans. She’s remembering the shock and anguish on her ex-fiancé’s face, like she’d just stabbed him in the gut. She hears on loop his last words of “Elsa, what can I do?”

And though the images are shocking, they don’t sting any more than being pinched on the arm.

“Still doesn’t give me the right to joke about it.” Anna sighs, and takes her hand off Elsa’s shoulder. It had been on there for so long that Elsa almost forgot about it, and now she’s disappointed that it’s gone. “I must seem like such a jerk.”

“No, you’re hilarious,” Elsa says truthfully. “I’m not offended, it’s…I got all the bad feelings out of the way a while ago. I only came to Denver to call things off because it’d seem insensitive to do it over the phone.”

“That’s noble of you.”

Elsa laughs pitifully, “No. I led him on in a long-distance relationship for months while I fell out of love with him. That’s not noble at all.” She feels a tingle along her shoulder, like something’s hovering above it. The feeling goes away a second later.

“You can’t do that to yourself, Elsa. You can’t put the whole burden of the breakup on yourself. I mean, what’s the reason you fell out of love with him in the first place?”

Oh that’s a long story that will take up the rest of the word limit. Elsa thinks about the important details, the ones worth sharing, and a silly, unhelpful thought flashes in her mind like the lightning that strikes once again: What would Anna think if she leaned on her shoulder right now? She shakes that thought away and starts with her pitiful monologue.

“We got engaged about a year ago, it was actually the last thing we did before I graduated from college and moved back to Rhode Island. He still had a year left, and the plan was that we’d get married once he graduated. But it’s like…I don’t know, it felt like I was two different people when I moved back. It’s like there’s ‘Elsa from Rhode Island’ who’s calm, quiet, and likes to draw and sing in the shower, and then there’s ‘Elsa from Denver’ who’s energetic and charming, and is always trying to cheer people up with kind words and stupid memes. And I wanted so badly for both of these Elsas to coexist, but the longer I was away from Denver and Hans, the more I realized how exhausting it was trying to be who I always used to be. And when I tried to be 'Elsa from Rhode Island’, Hans wouldn’t respond to that and think I was angry or something, so I had to flip the switch. It took a while to realize that I didn’t want to keep putting on that mask, and if Hans didn’t like who I really was, then…I couldn’t fix that. I cried and panicked and did all that other stuff when I finally decided to break up with him. So much so that when I finally did it, I had already moved on. Breaking up was just a formality, like signing my name on a piece of paper. Even so, I feel guilty for doing this to him and sometimes I wonder if I just wasn’t trying hard enough to be who I needed to be. It’s stressful to think about, and right now all I know is that…I don’t want to set foot in Denver ever again.”

After a long moment of silence, punctuated by the storm outside fighting to punch through the windows, Anna’s hand makes contact with Elsa again. This time on her wrist.

“Elsa…” she starts softly. “I don’t think he tried hard enough.”

Elsa raises an eyebrow, she’s heard this take from her parents and friends, but it hits a little more when Anna says it.

“I mean you weren’t in a relationship with yourself, right? He had to meet you halfway on stuff like this, especially if you’re going to commit the rest of your lives with each other. If he couldn’t accept who you are now, then what would things look like if you got married?”

“But people change in a relationship,” Elsa argues. “What if I was just scared to change? What if I was too comfortable with what was familiar and I was scared about doing something new?”

“Well, how much can change about yourself before you stop feeling like yourself?”

This is the first time anyone’s ever asked Elsa this question before, and it shuts her up quickly. All the while, Anna continues unfettered.

“I’m not trying to be your therapist, so I’m sorry if I cross the line anywhere. But I feel like…the best relationships are the ones where neither of you have to worry about what you look like to the other person. Like you have nothing to prove because you like yourself, and they make you feel comfortable with that. And I think if you get too caught up on the whole 'changing in a relationship’ thing, it means you’ve already lost sight of why you’re in a relationship in the first place. It’s not always about what you do for each other, but what you can do together. That’s…I mean I think that’s the beautiful part of being with someone you love. That you’re you, and that they’re them, and you’re yourselves doing stupid things like eating a grilled cheese sandwich on the balcony at 3 AM.”

Elsa’s so caught up in Anna’s wisdom that her silly joke catches her completely off-guard and she snorts, “What? Where’d that last part come from?”

Anna huffs, “Look, I really want a grilled cheese right now, okay?”

“Well, uh I think I might owe you one.”

“Really? For what?”

“For telling me what I needed to hear.” Boldness overtakes Elsa and she places her hand on top of Anna’s. Though the thunder roars and whines, Elsa swears she hears a hitching of breath. “You’re quite the love expert, Anna of Arizona.”

“Oh, uh…thank you? I don’t think I’m a love expert at all. I’ve never actually…”

She trails off, Elsa leans forward. “What was that?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Oh. Wow.” It sounds like Anna’s genuinely embarrassed by this, so Elsa reassures her. “Well, that sounds ridiculous.” Or at least she tries to.

Anna laughs, but in a way that you laugh when your parents are telling stories about dumb things you used to do as a kid. “You don’t have to do that. It’s my fault, I don’t put myself out there that much and it…I don’t know, I think I might be hard to love.”

Elsa gasps, “That can’t be true. I think anyone would be lucky to love you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Anna says in almost a whisper.

“I know enough. I know that you can sing and write songs. I know that you’re caring enough to comfort a total stranger on their breakup. I know that thunder storms don’t scare you.”

“I mean it’s just loud noises and rain,” Anna mumbles.

“And I know you have a beautiful voice. A beautiful mind. A beautiful heart.”

Anna doesn’t respond right away, but she does squeeze Elsa’s wrist in what she thinks is an expression of gratitude. The more they stray down this new path in their conversation, the harder it is to assume what Anna must be thinking. How she must be feeling. Elsa can only hope that she feels the comfort that Anna made her feel just a few short minutes ago.

She hears Anna take a breath like it’s something she’s forgotten to do. “You don’t know what I look like. I could be Medusa. Or a gross, alien thing.”

“I bet you’re a beautiful, gross, alien thing.”

That gets another laugh from Anna, this one with the joy and relief that Elsa was waiting for. “Well, I bet you’re a beautiful, gross, alien thing too.”

And that’s when Elsa feels it. That pull. The daring pull forward that she hasn’t felt in the longest time. In the dark, under stormy weather, and in the quiet of their secluded corner, Elsa admits to herself the bold attraction she feels for a woman she can’t even see. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and the words she wants to say are on the tip of her tongue. The words “I think I want to kiss you” are ready to escape like a whisper.

But a flash of light hits wall to wall, brighter than the flashes of lightning from before, and interrupts all her thoughts. The airport is finally pulled out of its blackout, and the collective sigh of the remaining hopeful passengers rings through the corridor. Unattended luggage sits on dull, gray seats, people wake violently from their naps, and Anna-

Oh.

She can finally see Anna from Arizona.

She can see her large, forest green raincoat, her guitar on her lap with its polished rosewood and silver strings, her cane resting against her chair, her auburn-colored hair traveling down her shoulders, her freckles accenting her surprised expression…

And her milky, white eyes.

It catches Elsa so off-guard, that all she can do at first is sit up and blink. When words come back to her, she manages to stumble out a “Wow…”

Anna must sense the weight in Elsa’s reaction, and she shuts her eyes. “The lights came back on, didn’t they?”

“Y-yeah, I- they did. They finally did. I mean not finally, but…Anna-”

“No,” Anna interrupts, eyes shut painfully tight. “Please, you don’t have to say anything. I should have told you when we first started talking.”

“You didn’t have to, that’s not…I…this looks bad. Not look! Not- I’m sorry, I’m making you feel worse.”

“You’re not,” Anna protests, now ducking down to bury her face against her guitar. Through the covering, she says with gut-wrenching guilt, “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Anna, I'm not. I was just surprised.”

“But in a bad way, right?”

“No! Not in a bad way.”

“Ugh, I should have told you. But I was too busy being stupid and crushing on you, and I forgot to just give you a head’s up like 'Hey by the way, I’m blind and have zombie eyes, I hope that doesn’t scare you’. Stupid Anna, stupid stupid-”

Elsa puts her hands on Anna’s shoulders and says her name, which causes the rambling woman to gasp and stop talking. When she’s sure that Anna’s not going to freak out on her again, Elsa says, “Please lift your head up.”

With a little assurance from Elsa, Anna finally sits back up and her hands rest on her guitar.

“Please…open your eyes,” Elsa asks with her hands traveling down to rest on top of Anna’s.

Anna shakes her head, though thankfully her expression has softened and it doesn’t look like she has a massive headache. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, Anna. And I won’t be. Just please open your eyes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

After a deep breath, Anna cautiously opens her eyes again, accompanied by another thunder strike. Though Elsa barely registers that, her focus is completely on Anna and the nervousness she can still see through her cloudy irises. At this point, someone much more deep, profound, and better with words would say something that would make Anna’s heart soar. And Elsa’s thinking of what she’d say if she were that kind of person.

But she’s not that kind of person and that’s okay.

Elsa smiles for the both of them and says, “I told you. You’re beautiful.” Expectedly, thankfully, and earnestly, Anna smiles too.

[icasttourniquet]

Can Your Character Survive... Avalanches?

Alternative title: why your character who lives in the mountains should be more scared of avalanches than they currently are.

What's an avalanche?

Avalanches are large masses of snow that speed down mountainsides, carrying humans with them. There are a number of different types of avalanches, depending on who you ask. Let's look at a few:

Wet Snow Avalanche

These avalanches are relatively safe, as far as avalanches go. They travel slower than their dry counterparts (10 to 20 miles per hour) and are harder to trigger. However, wet snow is often a good deal heavier than dry snow, so getting buried in it is still inadvisable. 

Sluffs

Sluffs are dry avalanches composed of the top layer of powder moving downwards. They occur when the weak layer of snow is on top as opposed to underneath, and they are far less dangerous than the opposite, a slab avalanche.

Slab Avalanche

(Or, as I cannot help but say in my head every time I read about them: Slabalanches.)

A slab avalanche occurs when the weak layer of snow is on the bottom. When an avalanche is triggered, the weak layer separates from the slope and carries with it the stronger, more cohesive snow on top of it in a slab. 

Slabs are typically about the size of a football field and more than a foot deep. They can reach speeds of 20 miles per hour within three seconds, 80 miles per hour within six seconds, and max speeds in excess of 150 miles per hour. 

Hidden by more compact snow, the weak layer can lie in wait for days or months until something heavy (say, a human) triggers it loose. To make them even deadlier, the break often occurs above whatever triggers it, meaning the victim is already on the slab when it starts to speed down the slope.

How do avalanches kill you?

In the words of Shakespeare, let me count the ways. (spoiler: there are two).

Asphyxiation

In a study in Utah, 85% of avalanche fatalities died of asphyxiation alone. This is likely because humans cannot breathe snow [citation needed].

Once an avalanche gets going, the snow behaves sort of like water, and any humans trapped in it sink. However, unlike water, when the avalanche stops moving, it hardens, leaving the sunken human entombed in concrete-hard snow—this snow sometimes also hardens in the victim's lungs, with predictable consequences. It is essentially impossible for a fully buried human to dig themselves out of an avalanche—most victims won't even be able to move their limbs. It is now a race against time: can rescuers dig them out before they run out of air?

To make matters worse, human breath is hotter than snow. As the trapped human exhales, they melt a small pocket of snow around their face, which then refreezes as far-less-permeable ice. Any chance of breathing through the snow pack has now disappeared.

Source: A concept for optimizing avalanche rescue strategies using a Monte Carlo simulation. (And you know a paper is good when they're whipping out the Monte Carlo simulations).

After only about 20 minutes, a buried victim has less than a 50% chance of survival. Avalanche rescues are all about time time time. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Blunt force trauma

In the remaining 15% of cases, that same Utah study found that blunt force trauma was involved in the death. This hopefully makes sense, given how fast, heavy, and large avalanches are.

In some terrains, avalanches can take helpless victims through a "sieve." Let's say you had to be dragged down a slope at 150 miles per hour. In the picture below, which slope would you prefer: A? Or B?

Hopefully, you said B. While being dragged anywhere at high speeds is undesirable, at least B is empty. A is a sieve, and anyone swept through those trees would be lucky not to hit at least a couple of them.

Avalanche Likelihood

According to Bruce Temper's Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain, 9 out of 10 avalanche victims trigger the avalanche that kills them. That means your character has a lot to do with whether or not they die.

Since we are are all authors here, let's design the scenario most likely to kill a character.

Avalanche-friendly conditions

There has been a recent, dramatic change in weather (storm to no storm, hot to cold, cold to hot, etc.).

The slope is between 30 and 45 degrees steep (contrary to popular belief, steeper does not automatically make an avalanche more likely). Side note: humans are rubbish at judging slope, so a modern-day experienced backcountry explorer will likely have her clinometer on her.

The slope faces north. These slopes get less sunlight in the winter (in the Northern Hemisphere), which makes the slow less 'sticky' and more unstable.

The slope is wind-loaded or beneath a cornice. If a cornice falls, it can trigger an avalanche above you, which is the worst place for an avalanche to be.

It has recently snowed (or is currently snowing!).

It's been windy recently.

Risky character traits

Your character doesn't know the area well.

Your character is a man (assuming the story takes place on Earth, where 92% of avalanche fatalities are men).

Your character is in a group that wants to press forwards.

Your character is overcommitted—they need to get to their destination, fast.

They are convinced they are an expert, or that someone in their group is.

Other people have gone down that slope already, which makes your character sloppy. Unfortunately, avalanches don't always trigger when the first person touches them.

Ironically, a slope that no one has gone down is also dangerous due to "powder fever," or the delight some skiers feel when they see an untouched slope and stop doing risk assessments.

High consequence locales

In the sections above, I discussed risk, or the likelihood that a bad thing (avalanche) occurs. Potential consequences also matter—it is safer to engage in high risk activities in places where the consequences are low, like rock climbing without ropes one foot off the ground.

How to make your avalanche as high consequence as possible?

Your character is alone. Recall that at 2 hours, the likelihood of surviving an avalanche has fallen to 20%. If your character is alone, what is the chance anyone notices they're missing within 2 hours, let alone they get to the exact slope where they're buried in that time?

The landscape has a lot of rocks or trees, making blunt force trauma likely.

The bottom of the slope is a crevasse or river bed or narrows as it goes down. This is because it takes time to dig someone out of an avalanche, even after you find them, so the deeper your character is buried, the more likely they are to die.

Avalanche Rescue

The worst has happened: one of your characters has been swept away in an avalanche and buried. Now what?

If we want a 50% chance of survival we have 20 minutes to 1) find the victim and 2) dig them out.

Immediately, your character's friends, who are, of course, avalanche rescue experts, leap into action. Having determined the slope is safe, they get to wherever the avalanche ended as fast as possible and commence a search.

Before launching into a search pattern, bystanders probe areas there friend has a high likelihood of being in. This means probing around any equipment they see sticking out of the snow (ski, glove, hat, etc.) and especially around any limbs (if the buried person is sticking a hand above ground and waving, start there). They also check around protruding objects like rocks, where their friend may have gotten stuck.

Source.

Probing means sticking a ski pole or some other long object into the ground at a 90 degree angle in the hopes that you poke the buried person. 

Source. *poke* "Ouch!"

A note on pole length: six feet should be adequate. It is both rare to be buried deeper than six feet and essentially impossible to rescue someone six feet under before they die.

Let's say your characters probe all the likely areas and find nothing. Now what?

Beacon search

What is an avalanche beacon? Basically, beacons are small devices you can carry into avalanche country that help you find your friend, or your friends find you, if one of you gets caught.

Example of an avalanche beacon. Source.

Avalanche beacons have two modes: "send," which sends out a signal, and "search," which looks for a signal. The idea is, everyone on your team has what is essentially a GPS tracker on them. If one gets buried, the others can use their beacons to triangulate the position fast enough to, hopefully, do a fine search in the correct area before the buried person is dead.

If the bystanders in your plot have beacons, they switch them to "search" mode. (It is tragically common for people who carry beacons, but don't practice with them often, to commence an excellent search pattern while their beacons are still projecting their location instead of searching for the location of their friend.)

The video above shows an example of a search pattern with one rescuer. The more rescuers, the faster the search, and the more likely the buried victim is to survive. The picture below shows some multi-rescuer search patterns.

Search patterns based on the number of searchers. Source.

Beacon-less search

What if your characters don't have beacons? First of all, they had better be in a world without beacons, because there isn't really a good excuse to be caught in an avalanche without one. Even if you are skiing alone, because beacons are interoperable, you might as well carry one to help out any potential rescuers.

But let's say your character lives in pre-industrial avalanche country so we can't judge their decisions too hard. Now what?

Assuming the victim's hand isn't sticking out of the ground and waving for help, your rescuers are stuck doing a probe search everywhere. This involves sticking a long pole in the ground every 1.5 feet or so in a spiral or grid pattern and hoping you poke your friend before they die.

Source

A spiral search may be easier with only one rescuer.

Source

If there are a ton of bystanders ready to rescue the buried victim, they can get regimented about it, setting up lines and moving in interlocking grid patterns to search the largest area possible in the shortest amount of time.

DIG

The rescuers have successfully poked the buried victim. The next step is simple: DIG.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJbnc4MjylI (no more embedded videos allowed :sad face:)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGQg9o3vAkM

Medical Care

Ideally, your bystanders dig the head out first, since this is the body part with all the important bits in it. My WFR instructor recommended starting Positive Pressure Ventilation (PPV—the thing you see in movies with the plastic mask and bag that EMTs squeeze to help someone breathe) immediately after rescue unless the victim protests loudly. This can clear snow out of the lungs and in general help them maintain oxygenation.

As other body parts get uncovered, treat what you see.

How to Show Your Character is a Pro

They dig a trench before going out too far. This allows you to see the layers of snow and judge how likely an avalanche is.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcXogVHecFQ

They test snow density by trying to poke through it with a knee, hand, finger, and knife.

They might also intentionally knock a cornice over to see if it triggers an avalanche (this is done from a safe distance).

And finally, they consider walking above someone on a dangerous slope attempted murder.

Conclusion

The best way to survive an avalanche is to avoid being caught in one. Barring that...

We at ICT recommend your character carry a beacon, be in relatively safe territory, and have a flock of friends available for rescue purposes.

[sherrybaby14]

Thor’s Kitten

Request:  Hi can I request a dark!thor fic? Something where reader falls asleep in his bed(I imagine it’s the biggest and most comfy and unused cuz it’s Thor). She doesn’t know he’s coming tho and when he finds her he thinks she’s like a welcome back gift. So he uses her until she wakes up. Thank you!

Warnings: Rough sex, Dark!Thor,  Non-con (Please do not read if this offends you), turns into dub con.  

Pairing:  Thor x reader

Words:  2500

A/N:  this is FILTHY!!

It was a stupid chore.  Changing the linens on every royal’s room in the palace even if they hadn’t slept there the night before.  Here you found yourself changing the sheets on Prince Thor’s bed for the twelfth day in a row when he was no where to be found, probably fighting some important battle.  You doubted he was even on Asgard.  

You dropped the clean set of sheets on the chair next to the bed and looked at the flawless mattress.  The gold and red comforter and satin pillow cases looked so inviting.   It was large enough you had to get on your knees and crawl across the thing to get the linens down so you were aware how soft it was.  

A yawn left your mouth.  This was your final task of the day.  You looked down at your blue dress.  You were leaving here to meet up with friends and already changed out of the maid’s uniform.  Managed to freshen up your hair and makeup too.    

You changed early since the servant’s rooms were on the far side of the palace and you didn’t want to walk back after doing this meaningless task.  Nobody was expecting to see you again the rest of the night.  You told your friends you weren’t coming, you could still surprise them a few hours late.  There really was no need to rush.  

Besides, the bed looked so inviting.   Another yawn left and you fell forward, hugging an untouched pillow, spreading out over the massive piece of furniture.  Just a little cat nap, you told yourself as you drifted off.  

~~

“That was a battle for the ages.”  Loki took off his helmet as they walked into the palace.  

“Another victory for Asgard.”  Thor ran his fingers through his locks.  “One that must be celebrated.”  

He looked to his comrades.  They all looked exhausted.  Lady Siff shook her head.  

“None of you want to play?”  Thor turned to look at them, holding his arms up.  “Surely you have the spirit for celebration brother?”  

“I’m having a kitten sent to your room.”  Loki laughed.  “That way you will always have something to entertain yourself, since none of us can keep up.”  

“One that scratches!”  Fandral added in.  “Claws at our leader’s eyes.”  

“And plays games, keeps Thor on his toes when they’re not biting at them.”  Siff laughed.  

“Of course!”  Loki clapped.  “Thor always benefits from a challenge.  A kitten eager for a lesson.  The mighty Thor will have the poor thing meowing at his feet by the end of the night.”  

The group exploded with chuckles and Thor shrugged.  

“Tomorrow night then.”  Thor pointed at them.  “There will be a feast.”  

He was greeted with forced enthusiasm and shook his head as he spun around.  The warriors needed to learn to let loose a little.  

~~

When Thor arrived at his rooms he took in the scent.  Home.  Maybe the group was right to spend the evening relaxed.   Besides, there was a tint of himself in his nose.  He needed a long hot shower.  He didn’t bother lighting his room as he went straight for the wash.  

The hot water did him good, as he washed away the blood and grime on his body.  When he stepped out he wrapped a deep red towel around his hips.   He should be more tired than his comrades, but his blood was still pumping.  

Maybe he would dress and leave the walls.  Find a way to wear out the adrenaline coursing his veins.  He stepped into the main room and lit the area.  He was heading to his wardrobe when he heard a soft nose from the bed.  

His eyes went wide when he saw her.  

“Brother.”  Thor shook his head as he cracked his jaw.  “You’ve outdone yourself.”    

A kitten in the bed.  One who would scratch and claw.  The night just took an interesting turn.

~~

You were on a beach, your toes in the sand.  The wind was in your hair and there was a picnic next to you.  The sand started to wave.  Was water coming?  

“Good evening Kitten.”

The voice was to real.  You glanced around.  You were alone on the beach.  The sand started to give way and you tumbled.  

Your eyes popped open and you looked around, confused.  Where was the water?  The clear skies?  

“You’re quite the actress.”  The deep focus focused your thoughts.  “How did Loki acquire you on such short notice?”  

“What?”  You looked at the face next to you in bed and your eyes widened as you scooted away.  “Your highness.  I apologize.  This is so unprofessional of me.”  

You were going to lose your job.

“A Kitten who wants to play games.”  Thor reached out and grabbed your waist, yanking you back to him like you weighed nothing.  “I have a feeling you will keep me entertained until all hours of the morning even without them.”  

You pushed your hands to his chest and tried to scoot away.  Unsure what he was talking about, or why he was touching you this way.  Your sleep was so deep you couldn’t quite comprehend anything but embarrassment.  

“Please don’t tell anyone.”  You turned to the ceiling, wanting to roll across the bed and stand, but Thor rolled you onto your back and pinned you with one hand.  “I fell asleep.  I didn’t mean to, I mean that is a lie.  I did not think you would return.”  

“So the theme is sleeping beauty.”  Thor moved so he was on top of you from behind, his hands ran up your back and grabbed your wrists, moving them above your head as he inhaled your neck.  “I guess I should awake you with a kiss.”  

His lips met your neck and your eyes flashed open.  

“No.” You tried to buck underneath him.  “I am a maid. This is not a game.  I fell asleep in your bed.  I apologize.”  

“If you wanted to role play maid you should’ve at least warn the outfit.”  Thor sighed and rolled off your back.  “Breaking character already Kitten?  I am a bit disappointed.”  

You didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but got the general gist and started crawling toward the end of the bed, eager to escape this embarrassment.

“But all is forgivable.”  A hand was on your ankle yanking you back before you made it to the edge.  

“NO! Please.”  You were spun on to your back. “This is a misunderstanding.  I can explain everything!”

“Drop the maid angle.”  Thor’s hands went to the straps of your dress.  “Your prince desires to wake up his beauty with much more than a kiss.”  

What the fuck?  You blinked as he tugged on your straps, destroying the dress like it was nothing.  

“Stop!”  You went to cover yourself, but the blonde grinned down at you as he shredded your outfit.  “STOP!”  

You tried to twist and turn away, but his hands were too powerful and his thighs gripped you in place.   So you brought your arms to your chest to cover yourself while Thor did away with the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare to the man.  

“This is a mistake.”  Your chest started to heave.  “An error!  Please you must stop! Let me leave!”  

“Now now Kitten.”  Thor’s fingers ran up your arms until they grabbed your wrists, spreading you for his view.  “Let me enjoy my victory.”  

Heat covered your body as your mind caught up to what was happening.  You struggled against his grip, but all it did was make your chest bounce for the heir to the throne.   He responded by licking his lips and dropping his head.  

You cried out as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.  

“Stop!”  You tried to wiggle into the mattress, but his tongue worked you like an expert, flicking you into a hard peak.

He moved his mouth to your other breast, and the air felt cool against your hard pebble, but Thor dropped your wrist and began tweaking at it.  At first you moaned, grateful the pressure was back to your teased nub.  

Then you realized you had a free hand.  You started shoving at him, but he was like a wall.  You tried to slap, pull his hair, claw at him.  But he kept sucking and pinching you.  

“STOP!”  You dug your nails as hard as you could into his shoulder.  

That elicited a grunt from the man who lifted his head and lost attention on your chest.  There was an electricity in his eyes as he glared down at you.

“I was warned you would scratch.”  He tightened his grip on your wrist to the point you whimpered.  “But NONE OF THAT!  You will behave yourself Kitten, do you understand?”  

The boom of his voice shook you to your core.  Hot tears on your cheeks, fear in your soul.  You responded without thinking, nodding your head yes.

“Good Kitten.”  Thor smiled and his grip lessened. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you purring by the end of the night.”  

His head dipped again.  You winced as he resumed his attention on your breasts.  Flickering his tongue and teasing his teeth on one while he kneaded the other.  

You were too scared and confused to react, but your body had other ideas as you began to rub your thighs together, hoping to make a friction between your legs.  What was wrong with you?  Why were you enjoying this?

“Very good Kitten.”  Thor lifted his head, smiling.  “You deserve a reward for that.”

He went back on his haunches, letting you go as he dropped the towel.   A massive godly cock sprung forward.  Your pussy clenched at the sight, but your brain kicked into gear.

“No, no no,” You turned and started to crawl away.

“Here I was going to let you have a lick.”  Thor grabbed your hips before he pushed your head into the mattress and snaked his other arm around your hips, holding your ass in the air.  “But it appear my Kitten is eager for more.”  

“Please.  You’re too big.”  You gripped the sheets, trying to pull away from him.  “I can’t.”  

“Oh you can.”  You felt the head of his cock run up and down your slit.  “And you’re so nice and wet for me.  Good girl.”  

He began to press inside.  Your muscles struggled to accommodate his girth.  Again the tears came back.  

“PLEASE STOP!”  You were just a maid.  How did the happen.  “PLEASE.”

Your shoulder started to shake as you sobbed into the bed.   To your surprise he did, not pressing into you further.  He leaned over you and found your ear.  

“I promise, I care about your pleasure as much as my own.  You’re doing a great job by the way.  Loki really outdid himself with you.”  He kissed your cheek.  “You’re so convincing.  But lets continue with the game.”  

Your head was spinning.  A game? Loki?  What the hell was he talking about.  

His fingers stroked the top of your pussy and then found your pleasure.  Thor pushed down on your clit and started to rub, going in a circle, then up and down.  You squealed in response and your hips bucked backward, taking him further in causing you to gasp.

“Eager now Kitten?”  Thor let out a booming laugh.  “Don’t worry.  I’m here to take care of you.”  

Thor began to press down.  He was splitting you in half.  You let out an other worldly shriek and tried to bite down into the mattress.

“If you need to bite.”  His fingers grabbed your chin as he turned your head.  “These will do.”  

Two of his fingers slid into your mouth.  You didn’t know why but you found yourself moaning against them.   His other hand worked your clit further while he stretched you with his cock.  You found yourself sucking of them, like some safety blanket as he speared you.  

“Very good Kitten.”  Thor’s voice elicited a response in your body you weren’t expecting.  “We’re almost there.”  

Your vision started to blur.  The pleasure and the pain and the softness in your mouth as you sucked at his digits.  Sweat started to erupt all across your body.  

“Perfection.”  Thor’s pelvis touched your rear.  “You’re doing so well. I told you you could take me.”  

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder before spreading his thighs.  

“Let’s make you purr.”  He pulled out slightly, it created a strange ache and burn in your core.  

Then he went right back in.  You didn’t know if you wanted him gone or were happy he was back.  Before you could decide his fingers began to dance.  Changing the level of pressure of your now swollen bud, rubbing, stroking, light, hard.  

You found yourself sucking on his finger in response to your confusion, trying to pulsate at the same pace he was, but unable to keep up.  

“Such a good Kitten.”  Thor was now slamming in and out you.  

How had you not noticed?  Did it matter?  You started to rock against him, your body now desperate for his return.  

The coil in your center started to form.  Your vision going blurry as every effort you were capable of focused on one thing.  The sounds of your body slamming into each other, the taste of him in your mouth.  You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, needing him more than the bed or escape right now.  

“Prrrrr…” Thor let out a cat noise and your body shook in response.  

You were getting closer and closer, making unintelligible noises around his fingers.   He let out a grunt.  Lightning.  That was the only way you could describe it.  Your body started to convulse, more energy built up than you thought possible.  

It burst, like a thunderous roar.  Your veins flooded with him, you cried and moaned forgetting his fingers as you went limp under him.  

He held you close, pressing down on your clit as he joined you in release, flooding your womb with his seed.  You struggled for breath as he fell on top of your back.   Both of you struggling to regulate.  

Sleep started to return when SMACK!  Your ass exploded with pain while Thor’s member slipped out.  

“You did so well this first round.”  He pulled your to his chest as he laid on his back.  “But I was promised you’d be sleeping by my feet at the end of the night.  And you know, I am up to the challenge.”  

Yet again you had no clue what he was talking about, but you no longer cared.  You just wanted him to make you purr again.  

[twstdreams]

Hello! Could I request scenarios/headcannons for Leona, Azul, Vil, Malleus, and Kalim? During flying class someone jinxes their crush's broom and sends them free falling but just before they hit the ground the boys rescue them. To show their gratitude, their crush gives them an innocent peck on the cheek afterwards (oblivious to their feelings) before leaving. Sorry if this is too specific! Kinda inspired by Harry Potter lol

Yes, you can! A bit specific, but I much prefer this over vague requests, so no worries! I hope you enjoy! I combined it and did both headcanons and a short little scenario.

Heroes, Villains, and the soft spot in between

Leona Kingscholar:

Your broom sputters a bit and Leona just brushes it off with a soft laugh. Couldn’t even fly your broom straight, it’s a good thing you’re cute.

But the worry on your face transforms into panic and your flying patterns quickly become erratic

Suddenly you’re falling and Leona doesn’t even get the chance to think, not about his image or if it’s worth the effort, he casts a spell using his well of magical powers and save you from disaster

It’s not the smoothest spell on Earth but it’s strong and you land safely

You’re in shock and grasping onto your jinxed broom as a crutch, trying to keep yourself stable. Leona makes some remark about you being easy prey, but your mind is still reeling from everything that happened. You take in a deep breath as strength begins to return to your legs.

“Did, did you save me?” you ask tentatively.

“Yeah,” Leona confirms, but before he gets to finish his sentence, a quick peck to his cheek silenced him.

“I’m glad at least someone is on my side. Thank you.” Your voice drips with enough sincerity that Leona feels his heart twinge, not that his confident smirk betrays his true feelings. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind saving you a little more often if he got rewarded like this. 

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul has an inkling that something is off with your broom, he’s not an expert flyer but he’s familiar with sabotage, however, you’ve taken off before he can confirm his suspicions

For once, Azul regrets that he’s right as you life is placed in imminent danger

With a smile plastered to his face, Azul uses his array of skills to safely reduce your fall until you all but float into his arms

His expression is picture-perfect and doesn’t indicate a drop of worry, but his rapidly beating heart says otherwise

Your doe-eyed expression as you grasp onto him soothes his heart. Your grip is tight, seeking something steady to contrast to your wild life-threatening fall moments ago. Your breathing begins to even as a shaky smile makes its way onto your face.

Azul can only widen his eyes as you swiftly tug him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. He can feel a whisper of the kiss remain even after you let him go.

“Thank you for saving me. Hopefully, that’s enough for a payment?” Your voice is soft and your words are light, but worry and fear still cling to your expression. 

“For today,” Azul relents, “But perhaps we should sign a contract to make sure this never happens again?” His gaze remains on you but Azul’s mind wonders how this happened and lays out a plan to find out. Though, even if he finds the perpetrator, he’d consider leaving them alone for a while, if only to assure you’d run into his arms for safety.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was flying as well, actively trying to avoid anything that could mar his face like a swarm of bugs or flock of birds

His focus falters when he hears you shriek and horror courses through his veins as he sees you falling

He pours all of his magic into his broom in a mad dash to catch you

He chips some of his nail polish but he barely even notices because of your flailing limbs. You two land with as much as grace as possible given the near-death experience.

Afterwards, Vil insists that you leave class early and escorts you away. You’re trembling like a leaf in his arms with tears welling in your eyes. The steady feeling of the ground isn’t enough to calm your erratic heartbeat

He leads you to his room and pampers you with an impromptu spa day

The smooth pads of Vil’s fingers glide over your cheeks as he massages in a face cream. The steadiness of his fingers helps put you at ease. You always try to take care of your skin to an extent but today Vil has pulled out all the works. Cleansers to wash away the grime of flying, facial masks that leave your skin refreshed, and serums and creams that soak into your face while making it as soft as a petal. Less than an hour ago, you were on the verge of a breakdown but as Vil massages leave-in conditioner in your hair, you nearly fall asleep on his lap. 

“Finished, you look beautiful.” The affection in his voice warms your heart. You sit up and look in the mirror. Your beautiful skin is surprising but the relaxed expression looking back is even more unexpected. Your lips form a soft smile. You plant a gentle kiss on Vil’s cheek with happiness adorned on your features.

“Thank you for making today a good memory.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus sees you falling off your broom and sighs. Sure, he had compared you to a baby, but he didn’t expect you to be so defenceless. 

You’re helplessly plummeting towards the ground, but a quick spell has you landing softly in front of him.

He’s not freaked out since it was so easy to save you, but when his fingers brush over your broom, he senses foul magic and immediately his green eyes are filled with rage

He doesn’t plan to let this transgression go, but he’s currently distracted by your sudden affection

Before Malleus can lecture you or remark on your spectacular fall, your arms envelop him. The act renders him speechless. People barely had the courage to talk to him or invite him, let alone bold displays of physical affections. He wonders if your brain is muddled by the traumatic experience. You raise your head to show your dazzling smile while looking into his eyes.

“You saved me,” you state, almost breathless and most definitely in awe. You lift yourself up and swiftly kiss his cheek. It’s brief and a feather-light touch, but a lingering sensation remains on Malleus’ skin all the same.

“Thank you,” you add as a pretty flush spreads across your cheeks, whether from embarrassment or the exertion of flying, only you know.

Kalim Al-Asim

You’d never feared flying, in fact, you were quite excited to soar through the skies and the freedom it entailed

That all ends when your broom fails you and instead of flying, you’re on a one-way collision course with the ground

While free-falling through the air, you were overcome with fear, your brain trying to conjure up something to save you from impending doom but fails spectacularly 

Suddenly, your back meets carpet rather than the hard ground and instead of blurry clouds in the sky you see Kalim’s radiant smile

Kalim chatters about how he’s glad that he made it in time and promises to catch you if you ever fall

You can practically hear your heart thumping. Even though you’re safe now, your blood is still flowing with adrenaline from your unexpected broom induced free fall. Kalim, with a grin from ear to ear and confidence that reassures your frazzled mind, is your saviour today. Without thought, you kiss his cheek, quickly and a little unstable due to the flying carpet but sincere all the same. Your subsequent giggle mixes with Kalim’s surprised laugh as you both smile as bright as the sun, for different reasons though.

[eponymiad]

Rating: T Word Count: 4450

1.

The first time Sophos asked the mountain queen to dance, it was his last night in Eddis. For formality’s sake, Eddis would not have declined, but it had taken him most of the night to work up the nerve. 

Punctilious in her hospitality, Eddis had arranged a banquet in their honor. His uncle who was Sounis had finally negotiated their release, though Sophos wouldn’t exactly have called it a harrowing hostage situation. The magus, ever a teacher, had made their captivity instructive, and the Eddisian court had been exceptionally kind, if a bit distant. 

Grasping for conversation as they danced, Sophos said, “I visited the god of thieves’ altar today. Those emeralds were even more impressive than you made them out to be.” 

Eddis laughed, then pressed her lips together. “You can see why the duchess was livid,” she whispered, sounding amused and a little conspiratorial. 

“Indeed. I’m surprised Gen made it out alive.” 

Her grin faltered, and Sophos worried he had inadvertently insulted her or her court. The lowlanders often painted the Eddisians barbaric, but Sophos had not meant his joke literally. Before he could fumble an apology, however, Eddis’s easy smile returned. 

She said, “Oh, Gen prevailed, he always does. Are you glad to be returning to Sounis?” 

Sophos blushed. “I have enjoyed my time in Eddis.” He had grown immensely fond of Eddis — both queen and country. 

The queen of Eddis was exceedingly kind. Sophos knew that another sovereign would not have been so welcoming of their prisoners. His uncle certainly would not have, and that Attolia had held them in a cell in her stronghold just weeks earlier was proof enough that she, too, thought prisoners belonged in a prison. 

Eddis smiled, and Sophos blushed harder as he returned it. He was acutely aware of where his hand rested on her waist, grateful the dance was one he knew well. He thought his nerves might fail him. 

“You must be excited to see your sisters again. From everything you’ve told me of them, they sound much like my more…rambunctious cousins.” 

“They are troublemakers, if that’s what you mean. I am sure to find my hair filled with twigs and leaves by suppertime the day I return.” Sophos laughed. “I cannot wait to see them.” 

Home also meant seeing his father, and explaining what had happened to Pol. The magus was sure to have sent word by now, but Sophos was dreading having to answer questions. The guilt was nearly too much to bear as it was. 

Eddis seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I am sorry about your guard captain,” she said carefully. 

“I will miss him very much. And I do not…look forward to having to explain what happened to him.” 

“I cannot believe your father could blame you for this, Sophos,” she said, even more gently, guessing again at his thoughts.  

“I see you have not met my father, your majesty,” he said wryly. 

She smiled again, an intoxicatingly slow-spreading one that filled her entire face. “I have, actually.” 

“Oh.” He was at a loss for what to say. It was not only his grief over Pol and Ambiades, still fresh and raw, but the concentrated power of her smile that rendered him temporarily speechless. The Queen of Eddis was perhaps the loveliest person he had ever met, and he’d discovered that her more brilliant smiles made it difficult for him to speak. A particular disappointment, as he was eager to talk to her as much as possible. 

Sparing him from scrambling for intelligent thought, Eddis changed the subject. 

“I hope we will have you back as a guest soon. I expect we will have a ceremony in the fall.” 

“For your wedding?” Now that she had no cause to marry his uncle, Sophos had been wondering when she and Gen would marry. 

She laughed. “No, I suspect we will have one more ceremony to honor Hamiathes’s gift, and we will of course invite our neighbors to attend.” 

Sophos wondered if he might persuade his uncle who was Sounis to bring him. He repressed a shudder at the thought of prolonged interaction with his uncle, but perhaps the magus would make a case for it on Sophos’s behalf. 

“I will hope to attend, then, and look forward to returning.” The music ended, and Sophos bowed. “Thank you for the dance, your majesty.”

She returned his smile, inclining her head briefly before turning to her next partner. Sophos returned to his seat, feeling light as air.   

2.

Sophos hadn’t realized he’d grown until he was standing in front of Helen, asking her to dance. He found he had to tilt his head now to look her in the eye. 

As they danced, they chatted, but Sophos could tell she was weary behind the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“How have you fared today?” he asked. 

“Very well. It was an important ceremony and I am glad to have the company of our neighbors and allies from further away to share it with. Did you enjoy the day?” Her formulaic response left Sophos unconvinced. An expert himself in court niceties, Sophos knew they were easy to wield when more natural conversation was stilted. 

He pressed again, as gently as possible. “I did, thank you. But I imagine it must have been a long day for you, especially.” 

She hesitated, before letting out a quiet sigh. “Yes,” she said, conceding the point. Her face relaxed at the admission. “I am rather exhausted.” 

He sympathized. “I find large events like this particularly draining myself, and I am not anyone nearly as important.” 

“I think heir to the throne merits ‘nearly as important,’ Sophos. But yes, they are draining. Frankly…” 

He waited, hoping she would speak, but she gave a small shake of her head as if letting the thought pass. He ventured a guess. “A lot of self-important, overly-dressed people?” 

Helen’s mouth opened in surprise before she let out a laugh. “That is an…apt description.” 

In the short time he had known her, Sophos had begun to suspect the queen of Eddis cared as little for frivolous courtiers as he did. He was delighted, both to have his suspicions confirmed and to have teased the admission out of her. 

“Just a gaggle of masks,” he said. 

She looked up at him, confused. “A gaggle of what?” 

“Masks, from the story of the fox and the mask?” he said, but she shook her head. “Surely you know Aesop?” 

“Of course I know Aesop, but I do not think I have heard that one. The only story I know about foxes is the fox and sour grapes. Tell me about the mask?”  

Smirking, he told her, “The fox stumbles across a beautiful mask, wrought from gold and inlaid with stones, perfectly molded for a mortal face. Contemplating it, he says, ‘so full of beauty, so empty of brains!’” 

“Oh!” She snorted, and slipped into a round of silent giggles. Sophos was unreasonably pleased to have made her laugh.

“Perhaps that one is popular in Sounis because of the invaders?” he said, wondering aloud. The Merchant Empire had been fond of their ornate masks, which were worn by okloi and patronoi alike during the festival months. “I did not realize there might be more stories. I wonder if I know all the Eddisian ones. What are some of your favorites?” 

She thought for a moment. “The Astrologer Who Fell into a Well and The Boy and His Nettles are two that spring to mind.” 

“Oh, I know the nettles. I have been made to remember that one often by my mother,” he said wryly. 

Smiling, she said, “But not the astrologer?” 

That one did not know, but the the music came to an end, and it was time for the queen to move on to her next partner. Sophos did not stop to think before he said, “Permit me one more dance and you can tell it to me?” 

Helen smiled the smile that Sophos was rapidly discovering buoyed his soul. “Very well,” she said, as Sophos, beaming, led them into the steps for the next dance. “There was a stargazer who spent evenings with his face upturned to the stars, oblivious to all else — the way I’ve seen you do with a book,” she added. Sophos blushed and nodded in agreement. “One night, as he walked through a field, looking up, he fell in a well.” Sophos cringed. “His neighbor came running at the shouts and, seeing the astrologer said, ‘Now you see what happens when you worry over the skies instead of that which is right in front of you.’” 

Sophos raised his eyebrows. “Is this an instructive tale about how I should worry less for the magus’s lessons on temple architecture, and more about hunting and sword fighting so that I might be a suitable heir?” 

“No!” With the hand already holding his shoulder, she slapped his arm gently. “More a reminder to myself.” 

The queen, as far as Sophos knew, did not have a particular interest in the sciences or any other academic subject. 

“A reminder of what?” 

“Not to make myself sick worrying about the plans of the gods and instead focus on the things I can control.” 

Sophos was not religious, did not believe in gods or myths. Despite what Gen had told them as they had camped in the mountain country a few months earlier, the Eddisians were much more religious than Sounisians. That much, at least, had become clear during his two trips. Foreign rulers and emissaries might have attended for the formality of the ceremony, but Sophos had heard the way the Eddisians spoke of Hamiathes’s gift — Gen and Helen had certainly believed in its sanctity. But still, he could see the wisdom in her words. 

“Ah. My cautionary tale is A Man with Two Sweethearts, though I rarely heed my own reminders,” he admitted. When her eyebrows shot up her head, he laughed and fumbled as he said, “The lesson is, those who seek to please everybody please nobody.” 

“I’d never heard that one either, though the lesson itself is a good one. It might carry a different message to my Eddisians though,” she said cryptically. Changing the subject, she said, “I did not realize there were so many more fables.” 

Sophos did not hesitate, did not even draw a breath before saying, “I have a large book of them that was given to me when I was learning to read. I could recopy some of my favorites and send them to you when I return to Sounis, if you’d like.” 

“That would be lovely.” 

And there it was, the chance he had been waiting for. Sophos had spent his faux-captivity over the summer in Eddis, and this much shorter trip, frantically searching for an opening to write to Helen. He had grown increasingly dismayed as the day wore on that he might not find a good reason. The excitement and nerves pounded against his rib cage in equal measure as they moved through the last steps and the song came to an end. 

“Thank you for the dance.” Sophos bowed, knowing it would do little to cover up the blush spreading across his cheeks as he willed his mind away from the rapidly unfolding fantasy that she might respond to his letter, that they might strike up a real friendship, that that might… “It is always a privilege to to spend time in your company.” 

She returned his smile with one of her own, the slow-spreading one that was, Sophos was certain, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It made his heart sing. 

“I will look forward to the Aesop stories.” 

“I will get working on them as soon as I arrive home,” he promised. 

3.

They had danced nearly every night that he was in Attolia. 

They were both a little clumsy in their dancing, both in different ways. Helen was stiff, her soldier’s march no less pronounced in the fluid steps of a dance. Sophos, for his part, had grown taller since regular balls in Sounis, and found it hard to adjust to the length of his gait. But as the days wore on, punctuated by walks in the gardens and, if he was lucky, meals together, they had found their rhythm. By now they moved almost as one. 

Sophos had felt something shift, in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she moved her body in time with his. He may be cow-eyed, but he wasn’t oblivious. As he fspun out further and further, head sick with plans and worries about retaking his country, the sole thought buoying his hopes was that he might come back not to a political marriage but — 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Helen teased, smiling up at him. She smiled at him often, and it still caught him off guard, left him feeling both completely off kilter and as if everything was right in the world. His heart swelled. 

“How very lucky I am that you dance with me.”

“Plenty of women dance with you.”

“But none nearly as beautiful as you.”

She flushed then, cheeks darkening, mouth half-open in surprise. “Flatterer,” she said when she recovered. 

“Not at all. I am incapable of lying, as Gen has made sure to remind me several times a day.” She shook her head, still smiling. He asked, “Are you looking forward to returning home to Eddis?” He led her into a spin. 

She spun back. “Immensely,” she admitted wearily. “I miss my mountains.” 

Sophos did not fail to notice that as she had landed back into his arms, her body was a little closer than it had been. Sophos slid his hand around, from her waist to her back, and pulled her even closer. 

The music changed and he cursed his luck as he and Helen broke apart. That move had taken all his nerve, and he did not know if he would risk it again. 

But the next song was different, and with the drum came the trill of a mountain pipe. Helen glanced over her shoulder at Gen, who was looking at his wife with such a fondness that it warmed Sophos’s heart. It was the first time Sophos had heard a traditional Eddisian tune since he had been in Attolia. He suspected they were avoided since both hands were needed, but the Attolias seemed to be getting into position to dance. Helen looked back at Sophos.

“You know the square dances?” 

“Helen,” he said dryly. “I am good for very little, but I do at least know Eddisian court dances. Have a little more faith in me than that.” 

She rolled her eyes. “If I had so little faith in you, I would be more worried for the future of our little peninsula.” 

“Point taken,” he said, grimacing. As he moved into position, Sophos faltered — he realized that he had not danced the Eddisan dances in years. “We’ll have to see how we fare with the height difference.” 

She laughed. “Everyone is taller than me. I barely come up to Boagus’s sternum. It will be fine.” 

The dance required partners to grab each other’s hands and Sophos, seizing the opportunity, laced his fingers between hers. That the dance was easier when performed with clasped hands was of little importance to him at the moment. 

When it was time for her to spin, Sophos released Helen’s hands as she spun away and back to him, fingers sliding back into his when she returned, the skirts of her dress following suit. 

“This dance is the only time I prefer a dress to trousers,” she said.

“I don’t remember this dance being so fun,” Sophos said, just barely holding onto his breath as the music sped up for the next cycle. 

“Have you ever danced it with an Eddisian before?” He hadn’t. “It takes practice for it to really flow.” 

It was certainly more fun than any of the continental dances at the Sounisian balls, or even the more out-of-fashion dances brought to the peninsula by the last invaders. There was a thrill in the way the pace picked up, quickened your heartbeat and chased the air from your lungs as you stepped faster and faster with your partner, until the only things you could focus on were the tapping of your own feet and your partner’s body, mirroring yours as you tried desperately to keep the pace. 

Their fingers unwound only for the last spin, Helen’s hands small in his as he gripped them tight. And as they spun together, Sophos so much larger than her that he thought he might lift her off the ground with his force, their eyes held one another’s. In that moment, Sophos was sure there was no one else in the room, in the palace, in Attolia, and maybe not even the world. 

The music ended and they came to a halt, both of them breathless and bubbling with mirth. Pulling one hand from hers, Sophos gently pushed back a curl that had flipped free of her crown, tucking the short strand behind her ear. His hand lingered there, and Helen held his gaze. Sophos was acutely aware of how close they stood. Close enough, he thought, that if he bent down, he could kiss her. 

He considered it, his mind running away as he imagined, for an instant, tilting her head up at his and kissing her here, in front of everyone, propriety and the whole court of Attolia be damned. 

But he was not so reckless — though he might have been had they been in the gardens alone — and slowly he lowered his hand from her face, their other hands still clasped tight. Never once did she take her eyes off his. 

And as he lay in the dark later that night, restless over his journey and the hard, perhaps fatal plan that lay before him, he thought of Helen, of the dance, and of the look she’d given him he had touched her face. 

This was not his imagination, he was sure. There was something between them. 

Thinking of her, he drifted to sleep. 

+1

“Is the dress all right?” Gen asked as he and Helen stepped together. His tone was light, but Helen knew her cousin too well. His hook lay at her waist, blade carefully turned away to spare her dress — or her — any harm. 

“It’s perfect, thank you, Gen. And thank you for sparing me from whatever awful gown Aunt Livia would have inevitably chosen.” She would have complied, her worry over the future of her country and the imminent threat of her barons making it easier to say yes than to argue for her own self-interests. Instead, Gen had insisted on handling it. The resulting wedding dress was beautiful, both as simple as Helen preferred and cut with a neckline to show off her tattoos, making clear to those watching that she was still Eddis. She was overwhelmed, as always, for his careful consideration and fierce loyalty. “And the wedding has been lovely. You are the consummate host. Maybe you are better as a frivolous trophy husband, planning parties and selecting gowns,” she teased. 

“I told you all, I make a much better figurehead than king. I also told you that I thought you would marry him,” Gen added, gloating, as the dance continued. 

She rolled her eyes, but could not stop her smile. “Do you never tire of being right?” 

“No.” He grinned at her, and she was glad for it. Eugenides had not smiled much these last few days, not since her barons had arrived and their cousins had begun complaining about his ascension to Annux in earnest. 

The last notes of the song faded, replaced with sounds of drums and a single mountain pipe. Before she had time to consider whether she was willing to risk a one-handed dance with Gen, her husband appeared at her side, tugging her by the hands into an empty space with him.

She and Sophos finished the dance with the last spin, as breathless as ever after a square dance, and the music master paused before the next song to allow people to compose themselves. Sophos grinned down at her. She reached up to touch his face, his head ducked to bring it closer to her. 

“You look so handsome today.” 

She watched his cheeks, already flushed from dancing, turn redder still, the color blooming dark across his face. His blushes were always easy, but he had glowed like the fires of the sacred mountain today, the joy radiating off of him mirroring the feeling threatening to burst out of her own chest. 

Helen thought of the first time she’d danced a square dance with him. While he had been in Attolia, she had been so wracked with worry and guilt, over saving her country and manipulating Sophos, that she had not even noticed herself falling in love with him. 

But, the night before he had returned to Sounis, they had danced one last time, and she had felt it then. Their bodies had drawn closer and closer like magnets as they’d danced, and when he had held her face, she’d been struck with the thought that she really might like to kiss him. 

In hindsight, it was obvious that she was in love with him. But at the time, she had written it off as a reaction to the dancing. That happened sometimes with dance partners, the magic of the music and the movement of bodies against one another sparking a flame that flickered and died with the end of the song. 

Well, she thought, as the flame inside her grew brighter and brighter, so much for that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“How very much I’d like to kiss you.”

He blushed more still, suddenly endearingly shy. “You could.” 

They had kissed plenty by now. It had taken ten days from their engagement to assemble their barons in Attolia for the wedding. Sophos had not once slept in his own bed. 

“Not when you’re all the way up there, I can’t.”

He stooped low so she could pull him close, and she kissed him, quick and sweet. 

Sophos rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He kissed her forehead and took one hand in his, his other resting lightly on her back. The music had picked up again, and they began the slower steps for one of the Continental dances. 

Helen wiped the sweat from her brow. The fall had not yet arrived in Attolia, and it was hot in the packed courtyard. That her dress was stifling did not help. Gen had been careful in his selection, but there was only so plain wedding clothes could be. It might have been fine had they had the wedding in Eddis, but the layers were oppressive in the lowlands. 

Fussing with the heavy cloth of her dress, she said, “I cannot wait to get out of this godsforsaken gown.” 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” 

She bit back her grin. “I meant because of the heat.” 

“I didn’t,” he said, boyish grin consuming his face. She pressed her own face into his chest briefly to hide her blush. 

They were both quiet for several moments. When she looked back up at his face, she could see worry lines on his forehead. 

“What’s worrying you?” she asked. 

“It’s nothing.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, he said, “It seems your barons have been putting ideas in my barons’ heads.” 

She closed her eyes briefly in frustration. “The bastards never miss an opportunity for drama,” she said, freely swearing away from prying ears. “I am sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You did warn me they were contentious.” 

“You do not know the half of it,” she said, thinking of the bloody and nearly-bloody history she had not yet revealed to him. She would have to tell him soon, of her failure to keep her barons in line, and of how their trip to steal Hamiathes’s gift had saved Gen more than it had saved her. 

His frown lines deepened and he glanced around. “A conversation for later?” 

“For later,” she agreed. Shaking her head, she said, “But there is not much to be done about them, except make sure they stay in line. It’s the epitome of The Lion, the Flies and the Hedgehog.” 

“The what?” He looked bewildered.

“The Aesop story. It was one of the ones you sent me! The evil you know is better than the evil you don’t?” 

“Oh,” he said, face and voice tinged with wonder. “You remember that?” 

She smiled. “Of course I remember. I loved those stories. I hadn’t heard most of them.” 

Helen was sure no one had ever looked at her with as much fondness as Sophos was in that very moment. 

“I can’t believe you remember those. I was so nervous sending that letter. I had looked high and low for an excuse to write you. When you said you hadn’t heard some of them, I clung to it desperately.” 

“I am glad you did.” 

“Not nearly as glad as I am,” he said, beaming. “It feels like many lifetimes ago now.” 

“Indeed.” 

Not even in the beginning of her reign had Helen dared to hope for anything more than a peaceful political marriage. And later, when she had made her peace with marrying Sophos’s uncle, she had lost hope for even that. Her singular focus was saving her country; her wants and needs inevitably fell to the wayside. Such was the burden of being queen. 

Then Sophos had reappeared, like something straight out of the Eponymiad, and beneath all the relief and fear and guilt that had twisted together inside her, Helen had felt the first glimmers of hope igniting, that her marriage might be something more than just tolerable. She would at least be marrying her friend, she had thought. Followed immediately by the crashing waves of dread that her manipulation of him to save Eddis would be the end of that too. It had kept her up at night. 

But her imagination had not been big enough for the end result: a husband she loved as she loved Sophos. Even now, on her wedding day, it felt surreal that she could be so lucky. 

Sophos smiled down at her. “Are you happy?” 

“Beyond my wildest dreams.” 

Sophos blushed bright red. Swaying in his arms, Helen relaxed.

Crossposted on AO3 here!

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Necessary sacrifices': New chapter for "Always for the greater cause..." is out!

Chapter Summary: While Wraith & Bellamy are talking about some details about the actual situation at the moment, an agent made a compromise with the devil...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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

2nd March 1981, 00H30 PDT

Freya 'Wraith' Helvig, Ex-NIS, Perseus

Behind the Perseus safehouse 'Hidden Angel', north of Los Angeles

Along the day, my only task was to watch over Bell who was still at the same place as always: at her desk, working on the numerous file that we were giving her while some of us were away, decrypting the remaining and give it to us as we were preparing on our side, a cleaning up of the rogue cell in Los Angeles, and then, leave this city for good & maybe go back in Europe...been here wasn't the best thing I could enjoy at the moment and that feeling was shared by Bell herself, just by looking at her...

She was very...uninterested in what we were doing here but she was doing her job without asking too many questions and when we were asking questions about what she managed to work on, she could say that she don't remember before going back to work on something else as if nothing happens. If it was nothing important as she was working, I could say that there was something wrong with her and what I succeeded to see in here shows that my doubts are confirmed, I saw right into her moves that she was hiding something from us...and that something...it was obvious. I wrote a report to only Bellamy, asking him to find me in the back of the safe house for a talk, about everything & nothing...

Bellamy was late for the meeting I demanded him to attend but it was normal, he was out in town during the whole day with Aldrich. I was patiently waiting for him right below the only functional light of the place on the outside, my back against the brick wall as I was looking up in the dark skies of California, a little cigarette between my lips until I could hear some footsteps coming at my direction...

"You're late," I spoke up first, keeping my head up before I turned it around to see Bellamy arriving from the corner, his right hand behind his head to scratch it.

"Sorry, been busy with the American," He apologized, walking to me, his eyes trying to avoid me, looking away on the horizon. "Made me almost run all around the city with his stupid contacts," He added, stopping at least 2 meters from me, not getting into the light above me.

"It's okay, I've been waiting for not long actually," I told him the truth, having known that he will be late because of Aldrich, it was predictable.

"Yeah, Aldrich isn't the guy I want to put my life on," Bellamy commented, putting his hands in his jacket to grab something that was just a pack of cigarettes. "And I don't want to have to protect his ass around every day," He complained, taking out a cigarette from the pack and putting it between his lips as he put the pack back in his jacket. "You have a light?" He asked me.

"Sure," I replied with a nod as he took a step to get to me while I was taking from a pocket, the lighter I'm always having on me, moving my hands with the lighter to get his cigarette on.

"Nice lighter," He complimented at it, his eyes looking at it with curiosity.

"Got it during my time in the NIS, reminds me a little from Norway," I explained with a smile, the lighter in the palm of my left hand before I put it back inside my jacket, Bellamy blowing a little cloud of smoke from his mouth. "How're things with your girlfriend?" I demanded at him, deciding to have a personal discussion before a professional one.

"Portnova?" He said, slightly turning his head at me. "I don't know, it's been since we're here that I didn't have time to contact her," He muttered, sounding a bit sad in his voice as he looks down at his feet.

"You should contact her when you have time," I advised him, trying to stay positive for him.

"Yeah...if I have time," He let out a sigh at this remark from me, his cigarette between his right index & ring finger. "Been busy every day to either keep Krypto or moving around to work," He added, shaking his head before taking a breath. "Any news from Europe, by the way?" He questioned me as I'm the leader here and the first one to know of the events in Europe.

"Well, Naga & Jackal managed to get the data from the Yamantau with the help of Kitsune," I started, going to tell everything that I learned today with the phone calls I did, just seeing a bit of confusion when I pronounced Kitsune's name at him but it must be not important. "Stitch has to report his comeback in the team as Perseus reported the important talk he wanted to have with him," I resumed, a feeling of relief crossing my mind when I heard about this...better let the other away for the moment from Bell...

"My father called me yesterday about it, said that Stitch will maybe come back when we're finished here," Bellamy told me as I nod to him, having heard the same thing today. "Apart from that, anything else?"

"For the moment, we need to wait for the data to be seen by our experts," I continued in my little briefing of the situation, blowing some smoke with my cigarette. "Now, we need to continue to work here until we're done and see what's our next big move," I finished, putting the back of my head against the wall, biting the right part of my lips. "Keeping an eye on Bell & putting down that rogue cell," I whispered, looking up in the skies again.

"The usual..." Bellamy mumbled.

"The usual," I repeated, joining him in that thought, my voice sounding low as if I was also getting in the same way of thinking as Bell about that rogue cell situation. "Anyway, let's get down to what we need to talk about," I said to him after a little breath, ready to talk about what we need to say.

"I'm listening," Bellamy put himself against the wall, crossing his arms and looking on the horizon.

"As you maybe know, there's a rift that got open between Knight & Bell after she got herself angry in the sudden," I passed my left hand below my nose while I'm telling Bellamy of this. "And this morning, Knight literally refuted Bell as she was trying to apologize and since the two didn't talk to each other," I continued in my words, Bellamy staying attentive.

"You want me to do something to get the two to talk normally again, right?" He presumed right in my thoughts, giving him a nod.

"Bell is sleeping right now after I got her to drink her rigged coffee so tomorrow night, I'm letting you going into town to take a drink with her," I suggested to him, his face looking curious as long I was giving him what to do with Bell. "Knight will join you but he will not know that Bell is with you," I added, scratching the side of my head with my right hand. "For the rest, you improvise, what to talk about but nothing related to Rebirth," I advised him, pointing him with my hand.

"Understood," He complied, a nod coming from him even if his face wasn't in the same complying mood.

"There's also something else I need to know," I took a deep breath as I got myself away from the wall, giving Bellamy a serious look. "I want you to make a call to your sister and give me details about a certain member of the CIA's team that's tracking us,"

"Who?" He demanded, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Helen Park," I replied, saying that name as it wasn't the best thing to say for me. "That woman...Bell must have known her," I commented, looking away from Bellamy, my right fist clenching and hiding it from him. "This morning, I saw Bell's eyes looking hypnotized by that woman...Bell is slowly getting back a little part of her past," I told him with a bad voice as it was something that shouldn't have happened.

"I thought that her past was erased," Bellamy though, hearing him behind me getting away from the wall.

"It's supposed to do that, MK-Ultra is supposed to have done that, we're drugging her, we're giving her the needed doses and still, she's managing to remember things that she shouldn't remember," I complained, biting my bottom lip before I turn around to look at Bellamy. "Still, I need Infos about that Helen Park," I repeated.

"I'll contact Liliya as soon as I can," He said, rolling his eyes around before taking a little breath. "Why do you need it?" He asked me, getting curious about that demand. "Is it because Park could be a danger to us just with her alone or it's something else?" He clarified himself in his question, his hand tapping over his arms as they were crossed above his chest.

"Just do it, Bellamy," I warned him, throwing my cigarette on the dirty ground and crushing it with my feet before I decide that it was time for me to get back inside, been done with Bellamy here.

"Is it love...or manipulation you're doing with her?" He demanded, making me stop in my walk to go away back to the door at the front, my eyes closing to think about it even if I already know about it well.

"You know well of it, Bellamy, to control her better, someone needs to be close to her," I responded to his question as he was getting back against the wall after he was turned at me. "I'm the best on that domain, I'm taking the risk," I added, giving him my thoughts on that subject before I resumes my walk, leaving him alone to smoke the remaining of his cigarette while I was going back inside...love or manipulation?...

Why would there be any love in here?

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

2nd March 1981, 01H40 CEST

???????????????????????

Somewhere in West-Berlin

West-Berlin...I really hate that city and that man decide that it was better than our meeting will take place in that divided city and of course, I was forcing myself to comply with his demands to meet here...as if travelling a lot for me in a few days wasn't really enough for me, I'm the one that has to move their ass as he insisted that he couldn't go anywhere without been spotted but I couldn't really refuse to him, he got what I need...I got what he need...what a better deal...in a shitty place.

He told me to wait near a wasteland near the outskirts of the city and of course, he was late to show up, finding myself to wait under the rain, hiding in the shadows of an alley that was hopefully linked to that wasteland. He was supposed to meet me at midnight but here I am at 1 AM and soon 2 in the morning at waiting in a stupid alley under that fucking rain with him getting late, and then, I could take a relieved breath when I saw the car arriving in the middle of the wasteland.

To make sure that it wasn't a trap from him, I decided to wait in the shadows for at least two minutes before the car front lights start to blink, making some sort of a signal, meaning that it was him and not a trap, allowing me to get out of the alley and join him, hopefully, opening the passenger seat for me before I could get inside and finding myself sitting with that man...

"You're late, we were supposed to meet at midnight," I told him straight with a not-so-happy voice, shaking my head a bit.

"I've got business to do," He said to me in a normal voice, his hands staying on the steering wheel, the radio going on as his right hand moves to get the audio low. "My operation needs a lot of things to get ready to use," He added, turning his head at me.

"I've got what you need," I sighed, seeing him already going straight in the subject as I took out the thing he wanted from me: a hard disk. "Everything on the Numbers Program and as a bonus, what you need against Perseus," I exclaimed, showing him the hard disk in my left hand.

"Thanks," He started to move his right hand towards it and take it in his hand before I avoid him fully take it away from me.

"Our deal first," I reminded him of this, using a very serious voice as he looks at me behind his glasses. "I got you what you need, you got what I need," I made myself clear, a sort of struggle between us with that hard disk.

"Of course," He mumbled, his eyes going on me. "I'll get you out of the top wanted cybercriminals, everything from the CIA and you becoming a mole inside the Collective as you give me the data of the Numbers Program," He remembered to me the deal we put before I decides to let my hand go off the hard disk, giving it entirely to him.

"Good," I sighed, happy with that choice before I looks through my window at my side. "I still don't understand why you're doing this, to be honest," I commented.

"Necessary sacrifices have to be made, it's always for the greater good," He claimed, making me turn my head around to look at him, curious at it. "Going off-grid is the only solution to bring Perseus down, you don't understand the war I'm making, do you?" He asked me.

"I do now," I simply responded to him without any things to say actually to that question.

"You know what to do now, I presume?" He whispered, taking a cigarette out of his jacket to light it up, putting it between his lips.

"Yes, you need me to get something from the Perseus Task Force that wants to get you," I told him, knowing well of his intentions about it. "Don't worry, I know a friend...surely resting at the moment on the West Coast,"

"Good," He mumbled, nodding at me as he looks through the middle mirror. "I guess that I'll leave you to go to work on that mission," He presumed right, not wanting to stay with him any longer but at least, I got what I needed. "Remember, you have a job to do, Kitsune!" He reminded me as I got out of the car, stopping before I could close the door to look at him...

"Don't worry, Adler, you can count on me!"

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Tower (End) The Script is Rewritten

*waggles eyebrows* Hinted at in the chapter Butterfly Effect, little decisions lead to huge consequences. :)

"Is the King General's legacy?" Chisei's back was against Tachibana’s.

The deadpool in front of you has not only evolved a snake tail, but even evolved a pair of membrane wings. In the legends of countless ancient civilizations, the difference between ordinary beasts and gods and demons is the power of flight.

These Deadpool have very little human to them; they are far closer to wild dragons, dancing in the air.

The legendary dragon deadpool has appeared in the world.

 "Go back to the elevator!" Chisei shouts to you. But he himself suddenly burst past you, sword executing a swift arc of twisted light.

 The flying beast in front of you folded its wings like a raging gargoyle and lunged at you with its blade-like claws, but hit Chisei’s longsword before it could pounce over the railing and cut you open.

The sword made a rhythmic whoosh-whoosh sound, brightly spinning out of Chisei’s hand and through the air like a helicopter's rotors, before stopping suddenly, firmly grasped in your hand. You draw your claw dagger. “Those words give me Deja vu. You were saying?”

Having lost Onimaru to you, Chisei draws his remaining sword Dojigiri as a deadpool pounced from the top of the tower. Just as it neared reaching him, it cracked in half. Dojigiri had split its body in two and with the sharpness of that sword, the wound took a few seconds to show.

Another Deadpool swooped up from below the observation deck and swung its tail at you. You might not be an expert swordsman but you swing the blade automatically in the manner of a slashing dagger, only this dagger was much longer. The blade cut so easily through the deadpool, like a carving knife cutting a fresh ham, severing through the skin and muscle fibers smoothly, the bones cracking in pathetic resistance. You’d never felt anything cut through dragon tissue like that. Your eyes sharpen and widen with the thrill of killing! You swing again and the head goes flying off!

“Leave these to me! You go back to the elevator!” You call, your voice filled with a mocking sort of laughter. Your hair is flying in the rain as you run off to confront your next victim who slashes at you and collides with the sword blade. You roll and parry and sidestep, dancing with each opponent until you find an opening and then you go in with Onimaru, stabbing through and cutting out, leaving grievous wounds with it. The long sword forced a bit more distance from your opponents than you were used to, so your claw dagger served more as a parry weapon, than your main killing blow, punishing those who dared reach inside the hitbox of Onimaru to get at you with a lost finger or a cut wrist.

You dance back into the observation room to join the others. Sakura and Bondarev were gathering what little weapons were strewn across the floor.

“The elevator isn’t on the floor any more!” Bondarev shouts. “I do not know who is summoning the elevator below but they took our weapons!”

You turned toward the voice briefly, but had to turn back to fend off another attacker. Every instinct told you that was BS. There was no one else here unless Caesar and Zihang were coming up too. Bondarev was a military man and a strategist, not some old coot in a sweater waiting to retire. You still remember him on skis, his sleeveless shirt showing immaculate physique while he stood in minus 3 degree weather with a wind chill of minus thirty-three. LIke some Siberian Heracles. And now he had taken dragon blood to bolster his aging strength, not to mention give himself a significant healing factor.

He was delaying for some reason. Was he still trying to kill you? It would be wise to assume so. You’re not getting on the elevator. You got a very bad feeling that Bondarev was not going to let you leave this tower alive.

Chisei Gen also retreated into the room and swung his long sword clean, throwing away the black blood on it. The three of them regrouped, Sakura holding a sword with both hands, Bondarev holding the blunt end of a two-meter-long European lance, the tip of which resembles a crescent moon.

"Come on!” Chisei beckons to you. “Crow and Yasha, they will think of something."

You see the shock and dismay in his eyes when you back away and shake your head.

He tries again. “MC! We need to put aside our differences right now!”

“Some things cannot be put aside I’m afraid.” Bondarev sighs sadly. “I killed her best friend in Black Swan Bay. She was young. Barely a woman. I have no right to ask her to fight by my side.”

You sneer at his performance. Then you rudely and sharply cut through his bluster with facts. “If I get on that elevator, he’s going to kill me. The same way he killed her. He won’t kill you. At least… not directly. He’ll manipulate you into dying, giving up your life by choice. That’s how it works… right Bondarev?” You look at him directly. “How can a master spy like you not know your precious asset would be here to save you?”

A very dark shadow obscures your face and when you look up, the sky above the glass ceiling is seething with deadpool. The deadpool let out a shrill whistle and swoop down as if the black mountain of clouds hanging overhead had collapsed.They smash that glass ceiling all at once and come flying in, their jagged bone wings snapping violently open. 

You roll and flee the group waiting for the elevator, putting as many deadpool as you can between yourself and Bondarev. Z’s words to you ring in your ears. He said, ‘your ride will be here shortly’, right before Fingel came crashing out of the sky. He wasn’t referring to leaving with Fingel, he meant your alternate way out that was waiting for you, waiting for this moment. The rope that dangled from the Tokyo Tower saved Fingel from death. And it would save you too.

In the distance came the sound of a bell tolling twelve o'clock at midnight. The sound of the bells are unusually cold to the ears, and Tokyo seemed to be transformed into a ghostly medieval city in this rainstorm, with the bronze bells on the churches roaring and the devils laughing wildly in the shadows.

The deadpool creatures no longer have hands. Judging by the puckered scars at the joints, they appear removed by some kind of surgery, replaced with curved metal serrated scimitars granting them a long reach but no grappling ability except for their prehensile tails. So long as you target their wings, they wouldn’t be able to climb back up the tower very easily. That fearlessness that moved Chime Gen to praise you in front of your peers takes hold of you again.

The beasts chase you like seagulls, creeling, getting in each other's way and bunching up. You slide like a baseball player under a canopy of razor sharp blades and jump up behind one, slamming Onimaru into its back and dangling from the hilt to cut the wings off the other beasts. You brace yourself on it, like riding a rodeo show horse. The monster beneath your feet heaved and rolled, howling in pain but was more occupied with defending itself from being overwhelmed by its own brethren than attacking you.

You were eye to eye with them in mid air, using the deadpool dagger to cut into their wings, tearing the membranes. You stab into the space between the joints and the biomechanical working of the muscles is so strong, it nearly wrenches your dagger from your hands. The deadpool creatures with damaged wings start to fall from the sky, unable to keep up their flight but they still have the strength to glide back onto the platform.

You twist the sword and leap back onto the platform to regroup. One beast rears up to battle but then its head snaps back to the sound of a distant rifle. You dash in to slit its throat. You grin! Somewhere on the roof of a far building, Mingfei was still there with his sniper rifle! You calculate in your head. You know he was shooting before. You make a conservative estimate for his ammunition and assume he still has your rifle and ammunition as a back up.

This was good news because reinforcements were arriving on the Deadpool side. More of them are climbing up over the railing, their scales shimmering. In addition to the dragon-like Deadpool, there are more of those snake-like Deadpool from Genji Heavy Industries, and they are all converging on the observation deck. 

The demon hordes of Herzog and Bondarev had amassed against you.

A buffeting downdraft came from above. Huge black shadows descended from the sky. The support from Crow and Yasha in the form of helicopters finally arrived. The elite of the Executive Board of Japan stood on the landing gear and fired. Intense firepower pinned down the group of Deadpool.  The helicopter’s heavy rapid-fire machine gun poured out a rain of bullets without a care in the world -- or a care for you for that matter! You’re forced to take cover from their reckless rain of bullets that could easily kill you as much as they beat back the Deadpool! 

You snarl in your heart, cursing Bondarev again. The helicopter slowly approached the observation deck. The Executive Board's plan was apparently to open the way with a barrage of bullets, allowing their three leaders to jump directly onto the aircraft.

 "Follow me!" Through the broken windows and heaving mass of bodies, you see Chisei bend down and pick up one sword after another. These blades began to spin in midair. He could wield them without touching them! He used these blades to open the way. Deadpool could not approach him when the royal blood was burning.

The Hydra members were inspired by the leader's godlike bravery, and the Gatling machine guns roared even louder as the barrage of bullets drove Deadpool and you to the sides, leaving the way for Gen Chisei and the others, but pushing you farther away from your rope! You wished you had a ballistic weapon in your hand right now so you can shoot Bondarev! He seemed to realize that, like the King, you were betting on an alternative and was forcibly moving you away from your desired position.

Chisei didn’t seem concerned for you any longer. Who knew what that snake whispered in his ear to wipe away your warning words. The helicopter lowered the ladder and approached the observation deck, and the men stopped firing to wave desperately for Chisei to jump up quickly.

A new black shadow shot out of the observation area like an arrow, having taken a mighty leap, and bit the hanging ladder. The men on the landing gear were stunned. They didn't even think that these ferocious beasts had such intelligence. They seemed to be completely suppressed by the rain of bullets, but in fact they were waiting for their chance to attack!

For a bloody meal, these things are happy to trade their lives. A second black shadow swooped out of the tower and latched onto the first one’s tail. The men’s eyes are wide with terror as they shoot at the deadpool who had bitten the hanging ladder. But the battered Deadpool didn't let go. Its mutilated face seemed to be wearing a maniacal grin as more and more of them bit its tail, hooking their bodies upward with their metal blade appendages. One black shadow after another swarms into the cockpit, the men’s guns still roaring, but to no avail. They could not expel those who had come to feed. The helicopter had become their coffin.

Chisei watched in silence as the helicopter moved away from the observation deck, like a wounded eagle going to find a place to heal, but it didn't get very far before it lost its balance and plummeted toward the square.

The helicopter landed in flames.

With no helicopter and the elevator taking its sweet time getting here, Chisei took quick stock in the situation. Bondarev was still limping next to his guardian Chisei, sticking close to him. If anything happened to Chisei, you’re not sure how you would face Chime ever again. But so long as that viper was next to him, your survival couldn’t be guaranteed. So you keep your mouth shut about the rope and keep your distance.

You’d have to find a way to separate those two, not only physically but mentally, but time was ticking. There were too many enemies, not enough weapons. From this high in the air, you couldn’t use your Soul Skill. It was too wet inside and out to use fire. So long as those deadpool were swimming all over this place, there was no way you’d be able to use the rope and escape scot free. You had to beat these things to escape!

You hear a sudden low, melodic snarling.

Chisei recited the long lost language and his Soul Skill, Majesty, was released, expanding slowly, the borders glowing with a faint luminescence. He walked to the center of the special observation deck where his ability could just about cover the whole area. This was Chisei’s coup de grace. While it was overwhelming, he would be as weak as a baby later. But this would be your last chance!

You rush toward the staggering deadpool, a whirling dervish with twin blades. Black blood splashed in fountains and ran like waterfalls off the observation deck. This was no time for finesse or art killing. You fell on them like a mad beast while they could not move. How long did Majesty endure the last time you saw it? Around 30 seconds to a minute? This would be a greater fitness test than anything you had experienced in Black Swan Bay. You had to kill, de-wing or disable dozens of deadpool in 30 seconds.

It was an incomparably bizarre scene. The deadpool were prostrate on the ground, unable to even lift their heads, inert pieces of meat for you to slaughter. The floor tiles cracked and they sank inch by inch into the concrete floor platform.

What world would Renata think of you now? Or even the loving father version of Dr. Herzog that you used to believe existed? You imagined them watching the clock, cheering you on. Vera applauding and whooping, saying you can do it. In your head, these fantasies seem to be extending the time longer than thirty seconds, but you try not to think about it. Every second lost would never return. You had to take every one and kill two or even three deadpool per second and not think about the clock.

Then it was over. A deadpool hissed at you and swiped out one claw. You leap back and sever it at the same time. You look towards Chisei and Chisei looks back at you. He opens his mouth to speak but vomits red. You look around as the deadpool raise their upper bodies even as their lower heavier bodies are still stuck. They’re so insanely ravenous that they pull hard, and in their attempt to drag themselves, pull their own bodies apart! Their naked vertebrae, stripped of flesh, dripping black, gives the scene the new appearance of a zombie apocalypse as they crawl forward, cutting you off from the elevator. But they’re still weak. You can still kill them.

You shake your head at Chisei as he gazes at you from across the gap. It shocked you. He should be concerned about Bondarev. That man had his invisible shackles around his mind, but he hesitated. He wanted to save you. But you knew that the minute you were ‘saved’, you would be in the clutches of Hydra and that was the end.

You would take your chances with the deadpool horde. 

Chisei finally turned back, staggering and near collapse. The deadpool slithered after him, slowed, but still active.  He was still making an effort to support what you felt was a malingering Bondarev when suddenly Bondarev fell to the floor, pulling Chisei to the ground. 

Majesty released further and the beasts were starting to attack closer to full speed! You’re dodging and slashing and Mingfei was still firing to give you back up support, but if Chisei didn’t leave now, he would die. Time was truly up!

You gasp, momentarily torn. If you left the edge of the tower now to go help Chisei get to the elevator, you’d be completely committed to that route with Bondarev. But if you lost Chisei…

Chime’s cry echoed in your mind. Brother!

You chew your lip hard and turn to go back to the Observation deck to help! But as you do you see that someone else is carrying Chisei!

Sakura Yabuki had leaped up and grabbed Chisei’s arms and carried him on her back. She didn’t look that strong but she was. Apparently, she’d tired of his delay and was hauling him like a sack of potatoes to get out.

Now you just needed to secure your own escape. The half bodied deadpool were no match for your twinblades and you laughed at cutting them down like mere chickens. You felt free to expend the last of your energy doing this. Your escape was now guaranteed. You’d run the gauntlet and once again come out the winner!

Surrounded by corpses, you look around. There were no more deadpool coming. You straighten in confusion. Was it something you said?

As one swarm, the deadpool abandoned you to chase something else and your heart twisted in despair and tears sparked from your eyes. You screech in desperate fury! “No! Chisei, you idiot, you didn’t! You didn’t sacrifice yourself for that MAN!” 

You scream at the flying figure above you. The person, however, was not Chisei. It was Sakura! Using a ballistic grapple hook like Batman, she was soaring over the top to the observation deck through the broken windows!

You stomped your foot in a fury! That Bondarev siren song of suicide! What was she thinking? Did Sakura not think you might have a way out? Did she figure that you were giving Chisei a way out by killing yourself? You weren’t like everyone else in the Japan Branch! You didn’t give your life away like them!

Sakura didn’t deserve to be used as food for Bondarev! 

Sakura was climbing to the top of the central spire of the Tokyo tower, the huge radio tower on top of the observation deck, while being pursued by every deadpool in the tower. Just like in the elevator shaft, they ignored you completely, sweeping by and slithering and trailing drool. Once they got to the base of the spire they started to kill each other to be the first to climb up while suppressive fire rained down from Sakura’s last remaining gun. 

Lu Mingfei shifted his focus from you to the tower in support of Sakura. You follow her trajectory closely the way she climbed, the way she was lining herself up with you on the top of the tower. She was lining herself up close to you. 

You feel a slight shiver and your eyes widen. She really did believe in you. She believed you had an alternate way out!

She’s now standing up at the top of the radio tower and bows deeply in thanks to Mingfei for his support. 

She was going to jump and that whole horde was going to follow her down into the void. Your heart is beating. A spotlight was on you. You had only one chance at this. You slip Onimaru into your belt. You climb the safety railing as she takes her leap of faith, a wave of black scaly bodies falling in a beautiful, horrible arc. 

You throw yourself off too.

At the critical moment, your bodies align and your eyes meet. You sweep up with your claw dagger. The hooked claw rends the bloody fabric that the deadpool found so irresistible. Then you wrap that arm around her slender waist  and reach out for the rope you knew was there, the rope that had saved Fingel not too long ago from the same fate. 

The sudden stop pulls your shoulder out of its socket and your arm nearly releases but by then, Sakura has recovered her senses and grabs hold of you before you can fall, clinging to the rope herself.

The tattered wet and bloody clothing continues the rapid descent Sakura should have taken had you not been there. Had you not climbed the steps. Had you not loved Ruri Kazama enough to obey his words and not Caesar’s.

The deadpool continued their fall after the clothing and you could hear the disgusting continuous splatter of their bodies slamming into the concrete and bursting apart in an ebony fountain.

Sakura Yabuki supports you and helps you cling to the rope. She’s completely topless and her body is warm against yours in the cold rain.

“I have to ask you, because I don’t understand. Why save me? Chisei killed the man you loved. It would have been easy to let me fall. Let me die. To let Chisei feel the pain you felt that night. Some would even call it justice.” She gasped out the words. 

You’re both shivering and out of breath.

You stare at her with frigid eyes. “I don’t know what justice is, first of all.” You snap, angry and desperate, your emotions swirling in a hurricane in your mind. “And second of all, I didn’t save you because of Chisei.” Your eyes sparkle in the dark with unshed tears. “Third of all, I’m sure he is feeling what I felt that night, because he thinks you’re dead right now. But unlike Chance, you will come back!”

Sakura Yabuki sobered. She didn’t know you, but you had the feeling she was listening closely and understanding.

So you continue, each sentence a shouted exclamation above the rain’s metallic rhythm on the tower struts. “I didn’t come here with morals or life lessons that teach me mercy. I’m no better than he is.  I was raised by Dr. Herzog for God’s sake! Chisei Gen was raised by that child-murderer Bondarev! We both kill first and ask questions later. Our father figures just tried to rip each other’s throats out! It shouldn’t surprise anyone that we’re going to hurt each other, so don’t think I care for him! The only true difference between us, in truth?” You pause, your eyes wide.  “I just hang out with better people! Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei, and Ruri Kazama. They’re my world. I will do things that will please them. So I look better. But I’m not better!”

Your voice lowers to a dull snarl in her ears. “I could have just walked away, easily! I could be eating a warm bowl of ramen noodles, right now!” Your snarl turned to a soft bitter laughter. “But Chime… Chime would never have forgiven me if something happened to his brother because I did that. I could have let you fall. But Chance is gone. I might have another chance… at love. That is.” You again crack a brief joke. “But Chime wouldn’t want me to hurt his brother by letting you die.” 

Your laughter takes hold of you, but it’s painful. It was just a way to stop from crying. “I’m only here because of my boyfriend. You heard that right. It’s so stupid.” You shove Onimaru back into her hands. “Here, take his dumb sword back. I don’t want it.”

Sakura looked down at you and a small smile graced her features. “Fair. Still, I must thank you. Farewell. Until we meet again.” Sakura Yabuki slid down the rope, speeding down the rest of the way down from Tokyo Tower. You see her land and she’s gone in the blink of an eye.