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lostloveletters · 1 year ago

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You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark (Ron Speirs x Reader)

Summary: Night falls in Bavaria to victorious revelry, and at the goading of your friends, the lust you've been kindling in secret suddenly burns hot and wild to the touch.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used besides the slightest bit of backstory. Inspired by several Bruce Springsteen songs. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. (Also, hi I’m Battie! This is my first Band of Brothers fic despite being a fan of the miniseries since 2016. Let me know what you think🖤) Do not interact if you’re under 18, are a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Inherent power imbalance. Explicit content involving vaginal fingering and unprotected sex.

You weren’t sure how six of you managed to squeeze into a booth together in the Bavarian bar, elbow-to-elbow as you drank beer and shouted over each other. Sitting squished against Talbert, who was squished against Malarkey, one of your legs wasn’t even in the booth. On the other side of the table, Babe, Perconte, and Luz were in the same situation.

Victory in Europe had just been declared. The celebratory feeling filled your lungs with each breath despite the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar. With the war in Japan still raging on, the likelihood of those without enough points having to endure another drop remained up in the air. One night of fun wouldn’t hurt anybody. No one could say you hadn’t earned it.

Glancing around at your friends, the guys you lived and would’ve died for—even after the war ended, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t imagine being closer with anyone else. Growing up without much of a family, passed around homes of distant relatives and near strangers until you had enough and ventured out on your own as a teen, you’d never had such strong connections before. The only reason you were even allowed to work so closely with Easy Company, was the absence of any next-of-kin, no one to cause a fuss if something went wrong while you were overseas. You were non-combat detail, of course, typing and running errands as needed, but more often than was likely ideal, you found yourself somewhere on the line with the medic training you’d gotten.

You hadn’t been at Toccoa with them, only meeting most of the guys just before D-Day. After Operation Market Garden’s failure in Holland, they came around to you upon the return to Aldbourne, least surprising of whom was Talbert, ever so kindly taking you under his wing when he was recovering from being accidentally stabbed by Smith. The two of you became close friends, and though you heard of his exploits with women in just about every city the company passed through, he seemed hellbent on being your wingman, trying to set you up with at least half a dozen members of Easy to little success.

With the taste of sweet victory and bold German beer on everyone’s lips, declarations of what and who everyone would ideally do to celebrate poured from your friends with little prompting. Knowing you well enough at that point, Tab took the opportunity to get you in on the conversation, the light mood and buzz in your system leaving you more loose-lipped than usual.

“Alright, our company’s eligible bachelorette,” Tab said, conspiratorial mirth in his voice. “Fraternization rules to the dust, which of Easy’s officers would you do your celebrating with?”

Your lips twitched, failing to suppress your smile as your drinking buddies awaited your answer. “Speirs.”

Finishing off the rest of your beer, you stifled your amusement at the clamor that ensued. Undoubtedly the least expected answer, part of Tab’s failure to secure a date for you among his comrades was your infatuation with the legendary captain—closely guarded, until you had a beer or two in you, apparently.

“Speirs?” Babe repeated incredulously.

“No way,” Malarkey said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“They need to get you to one of those headshrinkers,” Perconte said.

“Hold on a minute,” Tab said with an amused smile, trying to reign in the chaos. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You wanna know why?” you asked.

Ever since Speirs stuck with Easy Company after Bastogne, you worked closely with him as you did the other officers, taking notes and keeping memos for them. Speirs often requisitioned you to type up reports for him, finding it easier to dictate what he wanted written to you than typing them himself. Sometimes you found his attention drifting off when it was a more mundane report, his words trailing away while he looked at you, typically slouched on a chair or couch at the end of a long day. You would let yourself take him in, hoping the perceptive man wouldn’t notice the way your eyes trailed up his long, outstretched legs to his disheveled hair.

He provided the most attention to battlefield exploits, and at times you couldn’t keep up with how fast he was speaking or would find yourself a bit startled by some of the gruesome details he relayed. You’d heard the rumors about him. Everyone had. But a disgustingly repressed part of you that’d emerged at some point during the war was secretly thrilled by them, almost hoping they were true.

“Well, you owe us that much,” Luz said.

“I owe you all jack and shit.”

“What if I buy you another drink?”

“I think I’m gonna need another one after hearing this,” Babe muttered.

“Let’s see, why would I sleep with Captain Speirs,” you said, playfully tapping your chin in faux thought. “For starters, he’s fine as hell, which should be reason enough. I like that he’s a no-nonsense kinda guy. He has this intensity that I think is really sexy.”

The cacophony of bewilderment and objection that filled the booth met its slow death when the occupant of the booth behind yours got up. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw it was Speirs.

He made his way out of the pub, your light mood with him.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Do you think he heard?”

“No way he didn’t,” Malarkey said.

“Fuck, I need to do something before I get demoted or transferred or something.”

Tab grinned. “Well, if you’re not walking straight tomorrow, we’ll know you did something.”

“Shut up, jerk!” you hissed. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

He gave you a mocking salute.

You flipped him off as you got up from the table, running after your CO who more than likely overheard you expressing to your buddies that you’d enthusiastically have sex with him. Of course it happened the one time you actually joined in on their vulgarity.

Unlike his silent stride, your boots pounded against the pavement, announcing your approach to him.

He turned around abruptly, and you nearly fell over your own feet as you stopped in your tracks.

His intense gaze on you felt like being at the end of his rifle’s sight. “Are you drunk, Y/L/N?”

“No—no, sir.”

“Good. I could use your help with a report.”

You stared at him blankly. A report. At ten o’clock at night. “Of course, sir. Anything you need.”

The corners of his lips upturned for a split second. “I’m sure.” Fuck. He’d definitely heard you.

The two of you started off down the street, toward a more residential area wherein officers had requisitioned houses for the US Army’s use for the foreseeable future. Almost dreamily picturesque, tree branches waved at you in the cool night breeze, the surrounding mountains illuminated by the bright fullness of the moon. From the soft glow of street lamps lighting your way, something you’d previously taken for granted, you tried not to stare at him. In the warm glow of that balmy summer evening, however, he looked almost too good to be true. Hair slightly unkempt, the whisper of stubble along his jaw and cheeks, surely his face would feel like heaven between your thighs.

Soldiers in all states of drunkenness ambled up and down either side of the street, hollering and singing in carefree celebration. Speirs placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you past a group of men who could hardly walk straight. One of them walked right into you, his head nearly colliding with yours.

“Fuck,” the young soldier grumbled under his breath, shooting you a dirty look for being in his way.

Speirs wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you aside to stand in front of you. “Private,” he snapped, staring down the young man who looked like he was about to shit himself. “I advise you get yourself together and watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir—Captain Speirs, sir,” he said, turning his attention to you. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You nodded silently, and the private ran off after his buddies.

Speirs turned to you, his hands on your shoulders as his intense gaze searched your face for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

In Hagenau, one of the replacements had been pestering you the moment he laid eyes on you. At first, you humored him, supposing he needed a friend, as the men who’d been through Normandy and Bastogne were understandably closed-off and tight knit. Thought the new guys were too green, too eager to do something stupid and get someone killed in pursuit of battlefield glory that was too haunting to exist.

Then he started getting handsy, not enough to be outright inappropriate, but enough to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what possessed you to mention it to Speirs when he’d asked you how you were doing one afternoon. His brow furrowed, he gave you a silent nod in response. The replacement had been transferred elsewhere the following day.

Though Speirs stared right at you, there was something far away in his eyes as he squeezed your shoulders.

“I’m fine, sir,” you repeated. “I promise.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” he said softly.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, not bothering to offer you one. You were in the minority of people who didn’t smoke, allowing you to leverage the packs in your rations to trade amongst the men. As time went on, you’d leave them on top of your finished reports for Speirs, especially if they were Luckys. You watched silently as he lit the cigarette in his mouth, a shining silver lighter in his hand. His eyes drifted from the flame back to you, though you noticed the slightest spark behind them.

The rest of the walk was uneventful until you reached the house. A few stragglers hung around on the street outside, their voices becoming the slightest bit more hushed as they watched you follow Speirs inside. By the time the front door shut, they’d already begun speculating why the two of you were going to his place so late. With the way the men spread gossip, you could hazard a guess as to what the tale would morph into by the morning. You silently bemoaned the prospect of the night hardly being as interesting as whatever they conjured up.

Following him upstairs, the makeshift office seemed especially cramped with the boxes and papers that were haphazardly spread around the place. It’d probably take weeks to sift through it all, especially since a glance at one of the files appeared to be in German. Getting help wouldn’t be the issue, but rather the fact that none of the members of Easy who knew German were particularly inclined toward office work, becoming restless after an hour or so.

A problem for another time, however. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly half past ten, and you were almost inclined to ask Speirs about coffee, depending on how long he expected the report to take. You sat down at the desk, ready to begin typing the date when you noticed the ink was out.

“Is there any typewriter ribbon around, sir?” you asked.

He nodded. “Should be in one of the drawers.”

You opened the drawer immediately to your right, finding a mess of stationary that had clearly been shoved in carelessly. Or maybe someone had taken something out of it in a hurry. Digging through it, you came up empty, and moved onto the drawer below it. No dice. The one to your left didn’t have typewriter ribbon either, at least, you would have been surprised to find it tucked in with the loot that nearly filled the thing to the brim–shining silverware, glistening jewelry, and trinkets that someone with a keener eye than you had clearly decided were valuable enough to keep.

His extensive looting was an open secret, but a glimpse of this treasure trove was a shock to the system. So entranced by the contents of the drawer, you didn’t hear him walk up beside you until his shadow fell over the necklaces and rings you silently coveted.

He gave you a sly smile, wolfish in the dim lighting. “Haven’t had much of a chance to organize those.”

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, gingerly touching a pearl necklace.

“Try them on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

You picked up the string of pearls, a nervousness washing over you at holding something so valuable, something of his. Walking over to the window, the nearest reflective surface you could find, you pulled the necklace on, garish against your uniform. You tried shaking off the odd feeling of playing dress-up in front of your commanding officer, a girlish whim he inexplicably allowed you to indulge in. His expression was unreadable when you turned around for him.

“They suit you,” he finally said, brushing his fingers against the pearls, slowly drifting lower to the exposed skin of your decollete. “Keep them.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you small gifts every now and then��typewriter ribbon, fountain pens, chocolate, trinkets. You knew better than to question where he got them, as he seemed to give them to you at the perfect moment. The stationary supplies when you were running low on them, chocolate and trinkets when you were feeling down. At times they’d be accompanied by notes from him. Usually short, but so sincere you treasured them more than the gifts. Whenever you’d try to thank him, he’d just shrug, almost dismissing the gesture.

This time, feeling bold in the cover of night, you pressed your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “thank you.”

He didn’t react. Disappointed, you moved to sit back down at the desk until he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back to him.

“Were you telling the truth?” he asked, his voice a husky, demanding whisper. “Back at the bar.”

“Yes.”

“So if I said I’ve wanted you in a bad way since Bastogne?”

You kissed him, an explosion of warmth in your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He settled his hands on your hips, squeezing them with a tenderness that betrayed his longing. Parting your lips for him, you allowed him to deepen the kiss, wanting to see how far he’d take it.

Almost overwhelmed by his gentle intensity, you pulled away from his lips, though his mouth chased yours, capturing yet another kiss from you.

“Show me how you want me,” you pleaded with desperate kisses to his face, trailing down to his throat where you could feel the way he groaned in pleasure at your touch.

“In my room,” he managed to say. “I wanna lay you on the bed and–”

“Anything, anything you want, Ron.”

His lips slightly blushed from the ferocity of your kiss, he parted his mouth as if to speak, but instead took your hand firmly in his.

He led you straight down the nondescript hallway that nevertheless left you feeling turned around, dizzied by your desire for him. A door opened, and you were promptly pulled inside the room. The click of the lock behind you sent a slight shiver down your spine.

Pulled into his arms again, you lost yourself in his fervent kiss, until you reached down, palming his hardening cock through his pants. He moaned into your mouth, the sound only exacerbating the heat between your thighs, the ache inside of you that up until that point had been abated by your fingers, always rushed, never satisfying the urge to be filled–by him, preferably. From the way he felt beneath your hand, he could do all of that and more.

And after the months of silently, almost guiltily lusting after him like a nun, he wanted you too. The ego boost emboldened you. “Did you ever think about me when you were alone?” you asked, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze.

“Yes–fuck,” he groaned.

“Like what?”

“Besides keeping me warm in that goddamn forest? This–I thought of this,” he murmured against your lips. “But I didn’t let myself think of a future with you. I couldn’t have survived if I did.”

“And now?”

“I want everything you’ll give me, sweetheart.”

“Lucky you, that’s exactly what I wanna give.”

He smiled slightly, his hands hastily working to unbutton your shirt. “Lucky–except you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You reached for the pearls, about to take them off when he caught your wrist in his hand.

“Leave them on.” His voice was steady, authoritative, the closest he sounded to Speirs since he scolded the private who walked into you earlier.

Weak in the knees, you acquiesced to the one and only order your captain would give you that night. You otherwise undressed, your uniform in a pile at your feet. Your bra and panties were simple, certainly not the sexy lingerie you’d fantasized about seducing Ron in, but his eyes blazed as if your body were hugged by an inviting satin set. A burst of confidence rushed through you, and you held his gaze as you discarded your bra and panties.

You laid back on the bed as he undressed, watching intently until he was down to nothing more than his underwear, his hard cock straining against the fabric. He pulled them off, and you sucked in a breath at how big he was. Erect, at attention for you, all the more intimidating as he approached, joining you on the bed. His daring in the line of fire sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He straddled your hips, his eyes taking in your naked form with a primal intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He reached down, two of his fingers circling your clit, your body trembled beneath his touch. By the way he studied how your face contorted in pleasure as a foreign-sounding moan rose from deep in your chest, you could tell it was payback for your teasing him just minutes before.

His fingers shifted, slipping inside your wet core with ease. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace that made your stomach tighten and toes curl, but slowly bringing you closer to orgasm. You bucked your hips when he curled his fingers inside of you, blood rushing in your ears so loud that you could hardly hear the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, one that made you nearly howl in frustration.

“Who got you this worked up, sweetheart?” he asked, nipping the shell of your ear.

A whimper. “You.”

“What was that?”

“You.” Through a haze of lust-soaked desperation, you took his face in your hands. “Don’t make me beg, Sparky. It’s always been you.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs, and you nearly whined until he slid his length inside your pussy, your walls clenching around his cock. You braced yourself on his shoulder blades, your nails doing a number on him as you dug them into his taut skin while he thrust into you. Carefully at first, almost frustratingly so, until you cried, “More.”

He was bigger than you were used to, even before the war, but the slight discomfort was drowned out by the way his steady, deep thrusts filled you. He ducked his head down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, his hand groping the other. Sucking on your breast, his teeth grazed your nipple, the hint of pain complimenting the pleasure. Your climax was so close you could see it if you closed your eyes, raw and vulnerable.

“Ron, I’m so close,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head, nodding. “Where should I–”

“Inside–fuck–I want you to cum inside me.”

And he did, with an erratic thrust that pushed him deeper inside you still. You kissed him as your pussy milked his cock, lifting your hips to grind against him for the slightest bit of friction to your clit. You threw your head back as you came, an obscene moan escaping your lips as pleasure spread across your body, white-hot like a star in supernova.

His name fell from your lips, laced with curses, over and over like a vulgar prayer. He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your decollete, his lips brushing the pearls that stuck to your sweat-sheened skin until he shuddered, bottoming out in you.

He pulled out slowly, his toned chest heaving before he collapsed next to you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one. You declined, and he placed one between his lips, using a nearby match to light it before taking you in his arms. You settled comfortably against his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments.

“So, what about that report?” you asked slyly when you’d finally caught your breath.

His quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze betraying his adoration as he looked at you. “I might need your help again tomorrow night."

Knowing it was too risky for you to spend the night, he reluctantly let you leave around three in the morning, a slight pout on his face as you took off the pearl necklace and tucked it into your pocket. You left him with a passionate parting kiss, one that he used to nearly convince you to stay just a little bit longer until you quietly promised you’d report to him first thing.

The streets were mostly deserted except for the men on patrol. You kept your head down, booking it back to where you were quartered, hoping your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up, or at least raise any questions.

Just your luck, you ran right into Tab, a shit-eating grin on his face at your disheveled appearance. “I knew it."

#ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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ryuzakemo128 · 3 months ago

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Grim Reaper - Supernatural AU

Pairing: Poly! Task Force 141 x you/ female reader

Content Warning: Fantasy Violence, Nogitsune, betrayal. If there is something triggering in this, I have not tagged. I suggest you read at your own discretion.

Words: 1024

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

You are a Nogitsune. The translation for this is wild fox.

Alternate names for you are Yako, Yakan.

Yakan is more archaic. Its origin lie elsewhere. Predominately in a different animal.

Many local variations of your name exist. Only known to those in those areas.

Your habitat is located amongst the fields, forests, and wild areas.

Your diet? Omnivorous. You particularly like wax, oil, lacquer, women’s life force and blood. You are quite happy with your appetite. Only going out of your way to eat when it suits you and your own hunger.

Often referred to as Yako. A type of kitsune. A breed of magical kitsune to be more specific. You wander the East Asian territories amongst your kin.

You do not have a divine soul. Not only that, but you are not a messenger of the gods. You do not serve the Inari.

You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

A keen sense of danger. Strong disliking for bright light. Hiding from the sun during the day. Scared of swords and knives. You do not do well with bladed objects. An intense fear of dogs. As soon as you smell one. You are already gone. Hiding.

Able to recognise human activity even though you hide from humans. Whenever you get the chance to. You are nowhere to be found. Which you generally enjoy. Sneaking around to steal some of your favourite foods like; wax, candles, lamp oil, lacquer, alcohol, and fried tofu. A feast for you. A delicious feast no other could compare to.

Some kitsune are viewed as holy creatures, magical foxes serving as messengers to the gods. You are not one of them. You are a low-ranking member. Furthermore, you do not act as a messenger. You do not serve the Inari. Despite all of this. You seem relatively comfortable with your low ranking. You don’t aspire to increase your standing.

In order to change your shape, your form, you requite a bone from a horse or a cow. It requires all of your concentration, your magical focus of some form or kind.

This went on for a while. Long enough for a task force 141 to find you all the way out in the English countryside. Resting on dry hay inside an abandoned stable. Clutching onto a worn-out pink teddy bear. A giant one. Big enough to cover your entire body. Engulfing it in a warm beacon of safety.

You knew this day would come eventually. People hated monsters. Monsters would always be stomped out by those who are deemed better on a biased moral compass. You wished you are back at home with your older siblings. Yet you were all the way out here. No way back. Lost and alone.

What you deserve and what you get are two separate things.

You deserved to be home. Instead, you were tricked into coming all the way out here by a person you called 'friend'. A friend who was a liar. A snake. A false promise. A deception. A deceiver. Unworthy of being your friend.

You’ve been running from them for months. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. If any at all. You didn’t hear the stable doors creak open or the footsteps of crunching gravel. “Are you here to kill me?” You asked. “To slay the mighty beast in order to receive a medal and pat on your back? Spare me the hypocrisy that is your kind. Werewolves like you don’t know anything beyond your own kind. Well done. You got your prize. You won the fight. You get something while the beast is slain. How noble of you.”

Noble? Pathetic. Bowing down to the needs of the whims and wants of others. Look at you. Tamed and bound by an entity who would discard you the moment they found something better. I know these things better than you might think.

No wonder you smell. The dog smell. Putrid. Horrid. Disgusting. The dog crate smelled of hundreds of dogs. The putrid smelling seeping into your clothes. The smell stung your eyes to a new level you hadn’t experienced before. Stench overwhelming as you were muzzled to keep you from biting them.

Scared. They’re scared like little pups. Whinging. Whining. Wanting more than what they deserve to get. I don’t care about what they want. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care about anything they could possibly want from me. Their whims and desires can go fucking drown in a river for all I care.

Along the road to the military base full of people marching around in military fatigues. You must have passed out on the way there. Snoring like a bear. A giant bear. A big bear. A big, big bear. They tried prying it from you.

You gave them growls. Snapping at their fingers. Gaz got bit a few times. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to ward him away from you.

Your eyes held a luminous glow to them. Even if they were only open for a few seconds before falling back asleep. Stretching a bit before breathing a steadily.

Lowering the air conditioning between 12 degrees to 17 degrees depending on your mood at the time. Keeping the room you were kept inside. Cold enough for you to keep you comfortable. Not them.

Laswell looking in the crate with flashlight as the dog crate presented to her like an offering to a god who knew little of your kind. The urge to strike. To bite her burned inside your soul.

Those fucking naïve bitches. Dangling a snack in front me? Tempting me to eat her, are we? Idiots. Morons. Just a bite. A nibble is all it takes to get to the sweet red nectar beneath her flesh. To gorge myself on her blood like it was ordained by my nature.

Grim.

Grim Reaper.

A new name.

For a new place.

Mine.

All of it.

MINE.

Once they ask for my name.

It is all they shall get from me.

A small kindness for their pathetic interference.

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s-lverwing · 3 months ago

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PECADO ; teaser

SUMMARY. Duty—the inescapable concept drilled into you from birth, embedded in your mind by relentless echoes and insistent tones. But now, since you’ve grown and become entangled in a tumultuous relationship with the King’s firstborn, duty has evolved into a word you loathe, a bitter reminder of the constraints and sacrifices that shapes your existence. As your world spins, the prospect of marrying Aegon's honorable twin, Maelor, intensifies the bitter irony of your plight, deepening your resentment and sense of betrayal from everyone.

PAIRING. aegon ii targaryen x targaryen!reader x maelor targaryen (aegon’s twin)

WORD COUNT. 1.3k

WARNINGS. just angst. english isn’t my first language. THIS IS MY NEW BLOG !! MAELOR IS AEGON’S TWIN !!!

A/N. I’m thinking so many thoughts. I want to make this a series, or smth but I don’t really know. I have 8k words now, and I want to keep going.

no betaed we die like viserys

She gazed at you, her lips parting only to release the haunting melody: “Pōja istin jehikagrī ēnka sir rāpūltan, isse iā rāpa, lyka nārhēdegon” (Their once bright hues now softened, in a tender, quiet loss).

Soon, the groans and heavy footsteps melded with the birds’ chirping and the distant murmur of voices from the hallways. Yet, the garden remained an isolated enclave, housing only Helaena’s ethereal song and your tumultuous thoughts. A palpable silence descended, compelling you to whip your head toward her.

Alicent’s only daughter was already regarding you with eyes brimming with worry and regret. It was uncommon for her to look at you this way, and the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sealing the bond,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “One will drift away, the other will be chasing phantoms for an eternity” The innocence of her phrase was a dagger to your gut, making you want to retch, as you tasted bile on your tongue. Desperation clawed at you, and you fled, seeking refuge in the only place that could never offer you peace.

The room reeked of stale alcohol and sweat; a reminder of the first and last time you visited an inn. The once repugnant scent was now a grim familiarity. Each morning you arrived early, loyal as a hound and pristine as a dove. But not this morning; delicate petals from the garden were still tangled in your hair. You smell like fresh cut grass. And you’re late.

Aegon lay sprawled on his bed, utterly naked and feigning sleep. He was waiting, because even if he played the role of an idiot, a part of him still cared.

You swallowed hard, “Aegon?” Your voice trembled, a fragile thread of hesitation woven through it. Fear of him was not the issue; it was the looming dread, the haunting sense of something profoundly wrong, lurking just beyond the edges of your understanding.

The mere sight of him being humiliated by any member of his family or by himself was something you’ve become to accept, to make peace with. Aegon hasn’t been on a leash since he was a kid; since his father proclaimed Rhaenyra as his legitimate heir. And so he decided to indulge in the pleasure of the flesh… and alcohol — a sweet but ultimately lethal form of enjoyment. And the fact that he has harbored feelings for you doesn’t even move him into change. Not because of you, but for him. He deserves to be respected and the honor of a house such as the Targaryen. Though, he’s not even respected by his own kin. By his own parents. Viserys was old, and probably had an ounce of love for him which burned when he had realized he didn’t need more children to secure the bloodline. His firstborn was still very much alive; even if he was a woman. And Alicent only cherished his twin brother.

Aegon often wondered what it would be like to be the one born looking like a Hightower—instead of being a living reminder to his mother of the sacrifices she had to make, of her stolen childhood, and of every unavenged wound. Would he then be wanted as much as Maelor is? Deep down, he knew it was a futile dream. He tried not to care, but the fear of being crushed under the weight of everyone’s expectations gnawed at him incessantly.

After all, Maelor, has much more of a tender temperament and Aemond’s intellect and wit, which seemed to embody everything Aegon was not. His eyes were a warm, inviting brown, complementing his auburn hair—a perfect reflection of Alicent. He looked human, soft, approachable, and kind. In Aegon’s eyes, Maelor was the epitome of what Alicent desired, a role Aegon could never fulfill.

You dusted off your pale dress, swallowing down your rising frustration and anger. It wasn’t in your nature to be quick to anger, to point the finger, to blame others for their mistakes. But today, his actions felt unbearable. “Do—Do you even care?” Your voice sounded pathetic, a desperate plea for recognition, affection — just to be seen by your lover.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Everything was too bright, too loud for his liking, especially after Otto Hightower’s sermonizing. “Uhm—? Ah, oh,” He yawned, shifting to make himself more comfortable in bed. “Yes, sure.”

His indifference sparked a surge of anger within you, the bile rising to tinge your throat with its bitter taste. “I’m being serious.”

“Don’t speak so loud…” He groaned, dismissive. “You should go, I don’t want any of your services”

It makes your blood seethe, each word from him striking like arrows piercing through your heart. The indignity of being called a whore stings with a venomous edge.

It was always a struggle to engage in conversation with him when he was saturated with the remnants of last night’s excesses. But today felt especially grueling; your patience is unraveling, eroded by the relentless tide of his cruelty.

You approached his bed, standing close enough to block the sunlight that accentuated his handsome features. You wanted to scream, to hit him, hoping that maybe then he would love you, maybe then he would strive to be better and meet your mother’s expectations, so then they could be together. But Aegon wasn’t a fool; he knew you were the only one who forgave him every single time, without him even trying. Gathering all your courage, you spoke the words that had been festering within you: “You’re pathetic.”

So you think that too? He knew everything couldn’t be perfect. Aegon understood he was doomed, marked by fate’s cruel design. He knows this truth intimately… yet, despite everything, he clings to hope with a desperation that borders on madness. Because you’re the only one seeing him with different and softer eyes.

He can’t think because his mind is flooded with guilt, of everything that happened last night… Of everything he’s ever done to you, wether good or bad. But he keeps going, he doesn’t know anything else. “Go pester Maelor, he looks just like me. I’m sure he can entertain you… Maybe he won’t pleasure you as well as I do. But after all, all whores are the same, I’m sure he won’t mind”

Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. His cruelty cuts deep, making you question if any of it is worth it—the sacrifices, the hurt, the strange looks, and your bleeding heart. Are they worth the fleeting moments of bliss? He’s capable of loving, and being kind — he has shown you that. Sometimes you like to fool yourself thinking that he actually cares about you, that maybe he thinks you’re more than just a pawn following everything he says… More than just a girl staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Thinking maybe, just maybe… he actually sees you.

But it’s the indifference, and his insolent words that creates a wall. One you’re too tired to try and bring it down.

You snort, deciding to play his game, ethough you know it will keep destroying everything. “Maybe I will, Aegon. Maelor has more honor in his little finger than you’ll ever have. You just wallow in your own filth.”

You speak with distaste, the words hurting you as much as they hurt him, because they come from a place of anger, a vengeful side you despise. It makes you want to throw up; the mere idea to succumb into your rage. After all, there’s pure dragon blood running in your veins, and it burns within you.

You turned around, unable to bear looking at him. If you meet his eyes, you’ll collapse under the weight of your own emotions and beg for forgiveness, even though it’s not your fault. You just wanted to make amends. “Do you know you’re throwing everything away, Aegon?” you ask, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken despair. You don’t expect an answer. He already knows.

first chapter

#aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen angst #hotd

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thegoodduckfan · 2 months ago

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Okay, so yesterday night I thought of how I would handle the triplets' or the Beagle Boys' individuality in my own works. And I came to the conclusion I would make them a hive mind 90% of the time, but make it so they each have unique characteristics that are consitent throughout every story, that are also not very noticable on a casual read.

And then I jokingly said I am going to give characteristics like that, to every member of the Beagle Boys that appears in my favorite Uncle Scrooge story; Only a Poor Old Man (all 9 of them!).

So, of course after making such jokes I decides to actually do it, and I spent 90 minutes researching and writing this, so here you go!

Firstly 176-831: he is the goofball who things often tend to workout for. The reason is because he goofed off and went fishing and found Scrooge's hding spot along the way.

Now for 176-824 and 176-825: 176-824 is a pretty good liar who is always pretty suspicous of Scrooge while 176-825 always goes along with 176-824 and spoiling his lies with obvious "wink wink" behaviors. The reasons are that in this panel 176-824 makea a pretty natural lie, while 176-825 makes it seem obvious it's a lie. The reason for 176-824 to be always suspicous of Scrooge is that he was the one directly lied to when Scroogw told the Beagle Boys to jump in his money (and they broke their heads because of this). So I think it makes sense it would turn his suspicios of Scrooge.

Continuing to 176-840 and 176-830: 176-840 is the planner and sort of leader and 176-830 usually tags along to 176-840 and likes to listen to his plans in order to help. The reasons are that 176-840 is the one who came up with the plan who ultimately beat Scrooge, and 176-830 is the first one to take action in executing the plan after 176-840 told them about it.

Now, for 176-838 it's quite simple: 176-838 is a very proud Beagle Boy who will always lift up his kin (sometimes into defeat). The reason is that in this panel, when Scrooge beat them in eveey turn, he is the one that tells his brothers they haven't l lost yet!

176-836 is the most practical Beagle Boy who wants usually wants to get away with the score as soon as possible (but he still falls to Scrooge's schemes most of the time). The reason is that after beating Scrooge, his first thought is to go to court and claim his money, very practical.

With 176-837 I think it's kinda funny: 176-837 would be the one usually the Beagle Boys depend on to help them out in the last minute, their trump card, if you will, even though he screws up every time and doesn't seem to have any special talent. The reason is that his only appearence in this comic is this panel, he shows up at the very last minute and makes no impact, the Beagles still lose.

Finally, 186-811: 176-811 is the slacker who does nothing for the team and mostly hangs out in the background. The reason is basically that he doesn't appear anywhere besides the lines I recently discovered that imply 9 Beagle Boys in the story, and maybe this blurred(?) number in this panel, and he does nothing in that one either, so I think it makes sense for him to be a slacker.

I actally discovered his existence only a few days ago when I realized those lines look like the rough Beagle Boys to the right of them, and the colorists probably just didn't notice! I originally wanted to male his number 176-832, because that is the average of all the Beagle Boy's numbers here, but I then discovered that in the last panel shown, you can barely make out 176-811, so I decided to go with that.

So yes, to answer your question: I am clinically insane.

#carl barks #donald duck #uncle scrooge #scrooge mcduck #huey dewey and louie #the beagle boys #disney #comics #comic books #disney comics #character analysis #i guess?#don rosa #could never #he thought there were only 7 Beagle Boys in this story #even though there are 8 numbers shown clearly #i managed the find the 9th but he was pretty hidden tbh

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moonpool-system · 7 months ago

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In your most recent (to making this ask) reblog you mentioned being other kin and having facets that seemed to be kins at one point (or being both). How did you figure out they were facets vs kins? I'm still learning about my system, but have a few kins figured out but some kins I'm wondering if are facets/alters/etc and would love any advice I can get on knowing the difference.

Heya! I know this is pretty late but hope this advice still gets to ya!

On telling the difference between facets & kintypes!

[On telling the difference between facets & kintypes!]

We identify as both otherkin and a system, and while telling the difference between the two is much easier nowadays, it really wasn't when we first started out - we realized our median monoconscious host facets had been masking under 'kin shifts for years. Nowadays we have a sort of checklist we go through to tell if an identity is a kintype or an introject of some sort. Hopefully this can help people sort out the difference!

Note: these are all from the perspective of a single system! Others may have other experiences and are encouraged to add to this post.

Otherkin experiences

[Otherkin experiences]

- Being otherkin means having an innate "other" identity you identify as You. Many singular people feel like they have different aspects of themselves, and a kintype may feel like that, but it will still be intrinsically intwined with your core self. Your kintype identity cannot be "separated" from You.

- We find a good way to tell if a potential kintype is yours, is to refer to the 'type and their actions with I/me pronouns. For example, let's say someone's fictionkin as Character xyz. They likely would feel comfortable saying, "I am xyz. My friends are [xyz's friends] and I partook in [experiences xyz experienced]. I feel a certain way about those experiences because they affected me personally."

- Kin shifts, in the otherkin community, are periods of time where you experience the aspects of your otherkin identity more intensely for an amount of time. This is generally considered not a plural experience, since those in kin shifts might lean heavier into the aspects of themselves aligning with their kintype, they often will not contradict their non-shifted selves on things like identity, current dislikes, and moral opinions.

- Sometimes we feel more or less connected to certain kintypes than others, but not only is that likely because most of us are past life otherkin, but the dissonance doesn't get too extreme unless we're in a different facet or another member all together.

Polyconscious median experiences

- Being co-conscious with another system member can feel like "you" at first, but there're some distinct differences. When you're experiencing an emotion or memory related to a possible kintype or other member, consider how it may feel for these emotions to be coming from a third person perspective within your own body. Ask yourself these questions: Does it feel like these emotions/memories are coming from my perspective? Does this directly contradict how I'm feeling right now? Do I feel a disconnect from this feeling/memory/identity, as if I'm feeling someone else next to me experience it rather than feeling as if it's me? (Remember, for many people with system members connected to their kintypes, it can be both)

- Do your emotions and experiences related to your "kintype" feel controlled by you, or do they feel like they have a whim of their own, changing on a course only connected to yours? Does your "kintype" feel like they have their own free will? If unsure, try reaching out to and talking with that identity with your mental voice, and see if you get an emotional or mental-verbal response!

- Your kintype will feel like an inseparable aspect of you, while another member may feel more like an "outside force" despite being internal. Do you feel like you "tune out" of the world while your identity takes the wheel of doing things and expressing using the conscious awareness/body? Many systems can misinterpret switches as kin shifts due to not knowing that not all systems black out when not in front.

- When you're unsure if you're just in a shift or if someone's around with you, try calling out to and talking to them with your mental voice. You might have to do it a few times! You may feel a stirring of emotion separate from yours or even get a response in internal voice as well. Kintypes generally don't act on their own or respond to you.

Monoconscious median experiences

- Switching between monoconscious facetw can feel a lot like kin shifts. Compare how you feel in a "shift" to how you felt before. Do you feel drastically different? Do you feel like using a different name, or that you have a different gender or pronouns? Are your opinions & tastes different from before? How differently do you act outwardly? Kin shifts generally just make you feel more intensely in the headspace of your kintype- it won't change anything drastic or contradictory like that.

- Compare your self before the "shift" to now. Does your identity, opinions, gender, tastes, etc feel unpleasant or wrong to apply to you? Does it bring discomfort or dysphoria? That's probably separation you're feeling. While in median systems, members may have similar aspects, there're usually contrasting elements as well. (this median part goes doubly for polycon members as well)

- A way to conceptualize monoconscious medianhood is feeling as if "you" are shifting and changing into something new, rather than being there along with somebody else tied to you. Your point of perspective may not shift when you switch front, but your identity does.

Important points of crossover!!

[Important points of crossover!!]

- You may feel like more than one of these concepts apply for a singular source/'type, and that's okay! Kintypes can form as headmates and still be your kintype as well - it takes a little to get used to, but that's just how it is sometimes. Having two people that both ID as the same source is typically called doubles, just the same as the fictionkin community

- Other members of the system can have their *own* kintypes, which can get a little complicated, but it'll get easier to sort out as you practice and increase communication.

Hope this helps out some!! Sorry it took a bit

#otherkin #plural community #plural system #fictive #fictionkin #am i plural #alterhuman #plurality #pluralgang #pluralpunk #monoconscious #polyconscious #median system #prism subsystem

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chackyxyooj · 3 months ago

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Your Highness

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Description: You are the Queen and Gene is none other than the captain of your guard. To him, it's only natural that he would want you for himself instead of sharing you with a harem you've hand picked. || ONESHOT, FLUFF, SMUT, POSSESSIVE(?)

Pairing: Consort!Gene X Queen!Reader

WC: 2.8K

CW: Strong Sexual Themes | NSFW

Series Masterlist

╰─..★.──────────╯

Sexual Content Ahead: If uncomfortable with this type of content, DNI! - Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s not uncommon for Kings or Queens to establish a royal consort when they become the primary ruler of their kingdom. In fact, it’s often encouraged for the ruler of a kingdom to have multiple consorts as a means to ensure the strength of their next of kin. You were no exception to this. Thus, as you ascended to your place on the throne you were expected to have a set of consorts established as soon as possible.

Gene stands off to the side as he discreetly watches you sift through the stack of papers littering your desk. His jaw set in place, Gene observes you near obsessively. He’s clearly in a bad mood. In fact, he’s been in a bad mood for the past few weeks and you already know why. Being queen meant you had to have a harem, but Gene doesn’t want you to be with a harem.

It’s not right, Gene thinks, to hold such a tasteless opinion. There would be outrage amongst the kingdom if someone like himself was to have a say in the affairs of the monarchy; especially when he’s just a guard. Then again, Gene is the Captain of the Royal Guard. If any outsider were to have an officially recognized opinion, it should be him. He’d only be looking out for your best interests!

Whenever he’s not around you, if he can’t be completely certain that you’re safe and protected, Gene’s mind will swirl with concern for you. From threats upon your life to the burdens you must shoulder, Gene knows you need him around to protect you. It’s the reason why he’s placed himself at your side all this time.

That’s right. Gene only thinks of you because he’s concerned for your well being! It’s certainly not the softness of your voice or the warmth of your gentle embrace that keep Gene from being able to focus on his duties, and it’s definitely not the thought of your roaming hands that consume his thoughts during the latest hours of night. He only wants to help you; to protect you.

But when Gene thinks about how well your body fits against his, or how intoxicating it feels to pry desperate sounds of pleasure from your lips, the boy is forced to face the facts. His need for you doesn’t stem from his desire to protect his queen. Normally the knight would never even humor the thought of coveting you for himself, but recently his desire for you has grown out of his own control.

And now you’re in the middle of picking a bunch of other men to fill your bed.

Irritation bubbles up inside of Gene’s chest at the thought of anyone other than himself being allowed to touch you. Another man claiming that he gets to be at your side and in your bed? That’s something only he should be able to do. Of all the duties you must tend to as queen, can’t this be the one thing you relent?

Gene lets out a scoff in irritation as he unwittingly creeps forward from his spot against the wall. He looms over your sitting form, placing one of his hands against the desk and leaning over you as you sift through the list of candidates.

“Are you done yet?” Asks Gene, his eyes skimming the surface of the papers.

“Perhaps.” You don’t even spare Gene a glance as a quiet laugh slips past your lips. “You seem awfully curious about this. I can’t begin to imagine why that might be.”

Gene frowns at you, his expression tensing as he reaches forward to inspect one of the several candidates. “None of these men are suitable enough to become members of your court, let alone your lovers.” Gene spits, crumpling the paper and pushing it off of your desk.

“The matter of my harem goes far beyond simple lovers, Gene.” You state, a hint of amusement present in your tone. “They’re connections. Individuals whose relations with this kingdom will-”

“-strengthen your prospects as queen and ensure the prosperity of your kingdom.” Gene finishes rather unceremoniously. His tone is flat, but somehow it also gives his true feelings away. Gene is trying to restrain himself, trying not to show how much the fact that you have to have a harem irritates him, but he’s failing. Gene knows he can only care so much about the kingdom. He doesn’t care about politics, he doesn’t care about the ‘bigger picture.’ He only cares about you.

“So you do listen to me.” You chuckle to yourself and spare the boy a moment’s glance. You appear to be taking the idea of a harem much more casually than Gene himself. So casually, in fact, that you have no qualms with sliding a handful of papers right in front of Gene. “Do you want to see who I’ve chosen?”

Gene looks at you, looks down at the papers and then back to you again. “No.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer.” You start to pull the papers away from Gene but his hand suddenly slams down onto them before they’re out of reach. You give Gene a coy smile as his eyes begrudgingly trail across the chosen candidates.

“A peasant, a bastard and a rogue.” Gene mutters. “These are the men with whom you have chosen to fill your harem? Surely you can do better, your Highness.”

“First of all, the men I’ve chosen aren’t as mediocre as you make them out to be. An up and coming aristocrat, the prince of our neighbouring nation and a man of great notoriety. They are exactly the kind of connections this kingdom needs. And second…” You thread your fingers between Gene’s hand and the papers, successfully pulling his attention away from your desk and back to yourself.

The knight meets your gaze expecting to see a soft look but is surprised to find you looking up at him with a firm expression. “And second?”

“And second…” You continue luring the boy closer to yourself by interlacing your fingers with Gene’s and turning your body to better face the boy. “You’re to address me with a title more befitting of a queen. A simple ‘Your Highness’ will no longer do.”

“Is that so?” Gene peels his hand away from yours and brushes back some of your hair. The warmth of your skin against his gloves is agonizing, but he keeps his composure.

You nod, reaching forward and grasping Gene’s jaw with a surprising amount of force. Not a lot, but more than the boy was expecting. With a huff you meet Gene’s gaze. “I’m your queen, Gene. I expect you to address me as such.”

“You can tell me what to do in front of the masses and I’ll most certainly comply, but here, where the two of us are alone?” Gene grins as he shifts his hand from the side of your chair to the side of your leg, trailing his fingers down below the bottom of your skirt and up the inside of your thigh. “I suppose I could, but I don’t think I will, Your Highness.”

“Gene…” Your attempt at a cautionary tone is rendered useless as you bite back a quiet gasp.

Ever the opportunist, Gene takes this moment to lean down and steal you into a kiss. The knight moves his lips effortlessly against yours. He knows exactly how to leave you desperate for more; lightly sucking on your bottom lip and promptly brushing his tongue against it. Just as he anticipates, the action manages to pull a quiet moan of pleasure from your lips.

Gene groans at the sound you make, satisfied to know that he is the one who can make you express yourself in such a way. Your gasps and little sounds only serve to excite Gene further, encouraging the boy to slip his hand higher up your leg until it rests right out of reach from where he knows you want him most. As if only to confirm this, your body twitches beneath the boy’s hand in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to your core.

Your hand ghosts down Gene’s face down to his shoulders. You grip him tightly before pushing Gene back and breaking away from the kiss.

Rather than getting discouraged, Gene leans down into the crook of your neck and peppers kisses against the skin. “Is something wrong, Your Highness?” Gene mocks you with a cocky grin. He’s careful not to leave a single mark as he trails his lips down your neck, but part of him wonders what you might do if he were to let himself linger just long enough in one place.

You attempt to give a reply to Gene but your fiery words are snuffed when the boy slips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear. The leather of Gene’s gloves trails across your v-line ever so slowly, yet when he finally dips down and brushes his hand against your folds your body reacts on its own.

Despite the way your hips twitch forward against his touch, your legs close around Gene’s wrist. When Gene begins to pull his hand away, you subconsciously let out a quiet whine in protest.

“Why did you-?”

“Relax, Your Highness.” Gene chuckles as he pulls away from you. The way your brows furrow in frustration is adorable, and the fact that it’s all unconscious makes it all the more rewarding to see. “I need to ensure that the standard I set is one that will not be surpassed by the likes of your harem.”

Pulling off his gloves, Gene turns your chair so that your legs are no longer confined beneath your desk. He leans down and places both of his hands on your knees, his fingertips just barely beneath the surface of your lengthy skirt.

“You’ve always been a very clever girl. I’m sure you know what I’m getting at.” Seeing your eyes dart down to Gene’s hands is all the confirmation he needs.

Gene runs his hands up your thigh, hiking up your skirt as he slowly lowers himself onto his knees. The way your breath hitches when you’re pulled toward the edge of your chair makes Gene’s grin. He’s hardly even touched you and you’re already this eager.

He begins by rubbing small circles against your innermost thigh. Despite how freely you were just expressing yourself, Gene notes how you’ve suddenly begun holding your voice back. That’s no good. Even if it’s just for this moment, Gene refuses to let you do as you please. He wants to hear your voice. To hear you whisper his name and beg him for more. So without any warning Gene runs his thumb down the length of your folds, feeling as the fabric of your underwear gathers a bit of moisture.

You’re not as aroused as he was hoping you’d be, but that’s fine. If anything, it gave Gene that much more time to break down your resolve.

Gene shifts his thumb up and gently rubs small circles against your clit. The pleasured moan that leaves your lips, though you clearly hold back, is like music to Gene’s ears. It encourages the knight to follow the subtle rhythm of your hips against his touch. When you arch against his touch Gene shifts his thumb higher up your clit ever so slightly, reaching exactly where your body desires him most and causing you to tangle one of your hands into the boy’s locks.

You gently pull Gene back, looking down at him with desire filled eyes. “Must you insist on teasing me so much?”

Gene returns your look with a smug grin. “I only do so because I know it pleases you.” Despite what he says Gene complies with your request. He reaches around and prompts you to raise your hips as he slips your underwear down your legs. When he finally catches sight of your pussy beneath him, Gene can’t help but admire it.

“I thought you were done with all your teasing.” You try to keep your voice flat but Gene can hear the desperation behind it all.

“I’m simply admiring the sight I have before me, Your Highness.” He chuckles to himself, bringing your legs to rest on his shoulders as he brings his lips closer to your core. Without giving you a moment to brace yourself, Gene leans forward and presses his tongue against your clit. Your attempt at masking your surprise ends with you biting down on your hand to suppress any sounds you might make.

Gene takes that as a challenge. He sucks on your sensitive bundle of nerves, ensuring to swipe his tongue against you the way he knows you like it most.

Slowly you start to break. Your hips move in sync with Gene’s movements in a desperate attempt to pull him closer than he already is. He tries to hold you still by pressing your hips more firmly against the chair but at this point it’s mind over matter. You’re chasing a high that Gene is keeping just out of your reach.

Gene trails one of his hands down your hip and down to your core. Being as you’re already on the edge of your climax, Gene slips two of his fingers past your folds and into your cunt. And just like that, Gene finally manages to pry a satisfying noise of pleasure from you.

Despite the satisfaction that wells within Gene’s chest, there’s another part of him that wants to watch you come completely undone before him. To see your head tilted back in pleasure. To indulge in each and every sound you are usually so careful to hide. To feel you wrapped around him as he thrusts himself deep into your core.

Gene wants all of you for himself, but for now he’ll settle for this.

For the feeling of your walls as they desperately clench against his fingers. For your half muted moans and quiet pants. For now, Gene will settle for the taste of your pussy against his tongue because he knows that no one else gets to have you this way. And when your grip against him tightens against his curled fingers, he knows he has you.

Gene pulls his lips away from your clit and lets you ride out the last of your orgasm against his fingers. When he finally does pull away from you, Gene can’t help but bring his fingers to his lips. The familiar taste makes the aching below his waist all the more obvious.

As much as he wants to take you, to finally have you for himself, Gene holds onto whatever self control he has left. The knight stands before you and reaches forward, taking your chin between his fingers and slightly tilting your head back.

“You look so pretty like this.” Coos Gene as he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. “So delicate and proper, yet filled with desperation at the very same time.”

You let out a gasp when Gene suddenly tilts your head to the side and dips down toward your neck. His pride getting the better of him, Gene lets his lips hover the shell of your ear with a grin, noting the way you swallow in anticipation as he quietly laughs beside you.

“Tell me how much you want me, Your Highness, and I’ll give myself to you.”

As Gene pulls away to look at you, he fully expects the flushed look on your face from the way he’s been teasing you. What he doesn’t expect is the amusement in your expression. “Is that your way of implying that you’d like to be mine?”

“As a part of your harem?” Gene narrows his gaze unconsciously. “Not a chance.”

“You speak as if the men of my harem are but my playthings, yet that is the farthest thing from the truth.” You reach up and caress the side of Gene’s face, the boy leaning into your touch. “I know I said that these relationships are being formed in the interest of my kingdom, but that’s not the entire truth. The men I’ve chosen are special. They’re the only ones who will get to see the woman behind the crown. Is that not a thing you want to be a part of?”

Gene thinks to himself for a moment, really mulling over all that you’ve said, before returning to this moment in time.

“I don’t want to share you.” Gene protests. “I shouldn’t have to share you! I should be allowed to have you all to myself.”

“The people of this kingdom need their queen.” “That’s not-” Gene’s words come to a halt when he feels your hands against his face. You pull him down slowly, slow enough that he could turn away if he wanted to, and carefully place a kiss against the knight’s lips.

Even if it’s just for this moment in time, he’s yours.

#mystreet x reader #mcd x reader #gene #gene x reader #fluff #smut #possessive #oneshot #technically a connected oneshot

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rippleclan · 3 months ago

Text

RippleClan: Moon 58

Rustshade dies of yellowcough.

[Image ID: Oilstripe begs the ghosts of Rustshade and Fennelspot, “Dad… Dad, no, I need you to visit.” Under her, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

Oilstripe probably should have felt bad about her father’s death. He was another founding member of the Clan, gone barely a moon after Fennelspot. And yet, Oilstripe was closer to Fennelspot in life and still didn’t grieve him. That was, in part, because she still saw him all the time.

Fennelspot loved to linger. Oilstripe was sure he would be one of the Blessed Ones, guiding the growth of herbs along, the Celestial of RippleClan Clerics (she was trying to get that title going for him early on, he was the first of their Clan after all). Oilstripe would see Fennelspot in the gardens often, trotting around the caretakers and eyeing how they tended his herbs. He would also show up in the medicine den, surprising Oilstripe when she went to see her daughter. Oddly enough, Troutpool was never shocked to hear of Fennelspot being around. She would say she “had a feeling” he was watching. Sometimes, Oilstripe forgot Fennelspot was dead at all. How could she grieve someone who never left?

That was how it was with Rustshade as the Clan sat at his vigil. Rattlepelt treated him well, weaving a crown of wheat stalks tenderly bartered from WheatClan, honoring his role in the Clan’s founding. His grandkits were with him now; Troutpool gently groomed his forehead as Honeykit, Splashkit, Leatherkit, and Drumkit, all just a few days away from their apprentice ceremony, pretended they weren’t still kits and kept quiet. Carnationspeckle, whose pelt was half-shaved from all the mats they had to cut off, sat with Downstar, offering a gentle word to her old mentor while her daughter and mate grieved. Except Oilstripe wasn’t grieving. She sat with Clammask, grooming the sadness off her pelt with Scrubmask on the other side, but Oilstripe’s eyes were off to the side. She wasn’t looking at her father’s empty shell, she was looking at Rustshade himself.

Rustshade sat with Fennelspot and Puddlespeckle, watching his own vigil. Valleybrook’s ghost sat a ways behind them (he had passed a while ago, killed by a human farming wheat). Oilstripe figured Rustshade needed time to process the fact that he was dead. She was sure it would have been a shock for him to fall asleep and never wake up. As Scrubmask collected her kits from Rustshade’s body, the ghosts wandered toward the exit. Oilstripe brushed against her younger sister once more and followed the spirits outside.

“Dad!” she called. Puddlespeckle continued on, vanishing into the tree line, but Fennelspot and Rustshade stopped and turned around. Oilstripe had to dig her back paws in to avoid tumbling through her father’s spirit. “So then, what did you think of your own vigil?”

“I’m happy with how I’ve been honored,” Rustshade sighed, whiskers drooping. “Take care of your sister and your kin, Oilstripe.” There was an odd finality to the phrase that made Oilstripe cock her head.

“You say that like I’m not going to keep seeing you around,” she laughed. Rustshade bristled and Fennelspot placed his tail on his friend’s back. One of the red petals that forever stayed in his fur slipped onto Rustshade’s pelt.

“I’m dead, Oilstripe,” Rustshade huffed like a mentor reminding their apprentice of an obvious fact. “That means I’m not going to be here to help you.”

“Yes, not in the same way you used to be,” Oilstripe chuckled awkwardly, one ear tilted to the side. “But you’ve always been a comforting weight at my side, and you’ll keep being that as a spirit of StarClan. You can join Applepelt when they shadow me sometimes. They’re good company.”

“No, Oilstripe,” Rustshade growled. “You don’t understand. The next time you see me, you’ll be a warrior of StarClan yourself.” Rustshade was right. Oilstripe did not understand.

“But I’ll see you when you visit the territories,” Oilstripe huffed. “just like I see Twinekit and Locustseeker and Burdockcreek.” A hole, not too different from the gnawing anxiety that bit her pelt when Carnationspeckle was held captive, opened in her chest.

“What your father means,” Fennelspot sighed, stepping closer, “is that he’s tired. He’s lost many of the cats he cared for. He is one of StarClan’s ranks who find returning to the Clans too painful. The friends you’ve known who have joined StarClan, they like to visit, but Rustshade wants to spend time with his long-gone children in the stars.”

“But no,” Oilstripe said, unable to stop a panicked laugh from slipping out, “that would mean he’s leaving me.” Fennelspot and Rustshade simply stared at Oilstripe, their gazes heavy. “Dad… Dad, no, I need you to visit.”

“You haven’t needed me in a long time, Oil,” Rustshade sighed. “You have a strong life built for yourself. You don’t need me.”

“No, Dad, I don’t know…” Oilstripe stammered. She reached a paw toward her father’s ghost. Rustshade stepped back. With a soft shake of his head and one last look with his stern heather eyes, he walked out toward the trees. “Dad, stop! Come back! Fennelspot, stop him! Bring him back!”

“I’m sorry, Oilstripe,” Fennelspot gulped. “Let him rest in peace.” Fennelspot ran to catch up to his old friend.

“Stop!” Oilstripe begged. “You can’t leave like that! You have to come back! Even for one visit! Dad!” Fennelspot and Rustshade were nothing but specks of red among the early dawn trees. One blink and they were gone..

When the Witch Hunters captured Carnationspeckle, Oilstripe had not known what to do. There was an uncertainty in her heart, a hundred questions she could not answer. She supported Troutpool and Rattlepelt, demanded answers from Lemmy, and searched for reassurance when she could. She was scared, but she had not felt hopeless, because if Carnationspeckle had died, her spirit would have stayed at her side. She would return, not in the way she wanted, but she would have returned.

Was this what true grief felt like?

Oilstripe needed the pain to go away. She didn’t know how to handle it. It was killing her. She couldn’t breathe. She needed her father’s quiet support at her side. She crouched in the sand, shaking. Why would Rustshade leave her like that? Didn’t she mean something to her father?

“Oilstripe.” Carnationspeckle’s soft, gentle fur pushed into Oilstripe’s stiff pelt. Her touch broke down the wall in Oilstripe’s throat. A deep, guttural sob broke free.

“He’s leaving me!” Oilstripe wailed. “He’s leaving me behind!” Carnationspeckle was strong; she could handle Oilstripe’s entire weight against her. Oilstripe shook so hard, she thought she might break like Trumpetspore’s half-finished pottery.

“When you rescued me,” Carnationspeckle said softly, “you told me you’d do everything possible to make my heart right again, and thanks to you, I know I’ll get there someday. I’ll do the same for you.” Each mate pressed into the other, clinging for life like debris along the sea.

(Oilstripe: 62, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Rustshade: 102, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Carnationspeckle: 60, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

When Scrubmask and Clammask’s kits are apprenticed, Honeypaw asks to train as a cleric and gets cicada wings as decor. His littermates train as a historian, warrior, and caretaker respectively, apprenticed to Weedfoot, Trumpetspore, and Elmsprout.

[Image ID: Honeypaw, Splashpaw, Leatherpaw, and Drumpaw all have their apprentice forms, with Honeypaw sporting some cicada wings. Under Honeypaw, it says LEVEL UP! HONEYKIT -> HONEYPAW, NOISY -> DARING, + ACCESSORY: CICADA WINGS. Under Splashpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SPLASHKIT -> SPLASHPAW, NOISY -> BOLD. Under Leatherpaw, it says LEVEL UP! LEATHERKIT -> LEATHERPAW, IMPULSIVE -> VENGEFUL. Under Drumpaw, it says LEVEL UP! DRUMKIT -> DRUMPAW, QUIET -> LOYAL.]

(Honeypaw: 6, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Leatherpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Drumpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter)

Waspdawn’s tail is injured by a fox.

[Image ID: Splashpaw sneaks off while Troutpool and Honeypaw surround Waspdawn, who has + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL written underneath him.]

---

Elmsprout had gotten into a bit of trouble; Parsley accused her of giving prey to AshClan, as seen on one of her many strolls with Carnationspeckle. Waspdawn and Puddlewhisper, chosen as defender and inquisitor to the potential trial ahead, went out to investigate the scene and get information from AshClan. Unfortunately, they stumbled across a rather sickly and feral old fox that stuck a solid blow against Waspdawn, nearly biting his tail clean off! It threw the Clan into a bit of a whirlwind. Lavendertwist, who had gotten his stitches out but still wasn’t allowed to speak or eat hard foods, stayed at his wounded brother’s side. Weedfoot and James shared tongues outside the medicine den, waiting for news.

That left Splashpaw deeply, deeply bored.

He probably should have felt worse about Waspdawn’s terrible injury, but he had no doubt he would be fine. Honeypaw had only been training for a quarter moon and was already great at his job. But with Weedfoot worrying over her kit, Splashpaw could only sit in camp and kick at clouds.

Leatherpaw and Drumpaw trotted out of the apprentice’s den, laughing. Splashpaw rolled to his paws, eyes gleaming.

“What are you doing?” Splashpaw asked, leaping to his littermates’ side.

“Trumpetspore and Elmsprout are taking us to our first sparring session!” Leatherpaw cheered with a playful wiggle of his flank. “I won’t lie, I’m a little nervous to see what actual battle is like, but I can’t wait to drive off predators and rogues!”

“Nervous?” Drumpaw laughed softly. “More like overeager. Trumpetspore will stomp that out.”

“Please take me with you,” Splashpaw begged, crouching pitifully. “I’m so bored.”

“Our mentors will be focused on our training, not yours,” Leatherpaw said. “You’ll have to keep yourself entertained.”

“But Honeypaw’s busy with Waspdawn, and our moms are on patrol!” Splashpaw whined.

“Figure it out!” Leatherpaw said without a hint of sympathy. Drumpaw, at least, gently batted Splashpaw’s ear. Leatherpaw and Drumpaw ran to the entrance, where their mentors were already waiting for them. Splashpaw watched, envy bubbling in his stomach, as they sauntered off. As soon as they left, Mosspounce walked in, tail held low.

“Mosspounce!” Splashpaw called. “Can you show me some battle moves? Or take me hunting? Please, give me something to do.” Splashpaw rolled onto his back in front of Mosspounce.

“Not now, Splashpaw,” Mosspounce sighed, stepping over the gold and white apprentice. Splashpaw cocked his head, still upside-down.

“Did you not enjoy your walk?” Splashpaw huffed, turning right side up. Mosspounce groaned dramatically and gave into the apprentice’s insistence, sitting.

“It wasn’t just a walk,” he grumbled. “I was waiting by the river for Lemmy. Again.” Splashpaw had a very clear memory of Lemmy from her visit three moons prior, after Carnationspeckle went missing. She had seemed so fierce, even with her silly yellow collar.

“She still hasn’t come to see you?” Splashpaw huffed. “I thought we were friends with the Witch Hunters now.”

“They could have found out about her dreams,” Mosspounce mumbled. “They would have labeled her a witch if they knew about them. It’s just that… I think I really liked her, Splashpaw. I wanted her to join RippleClan. I thought that’s why StarClan visited her dreams. But maybe not.” Mosspounce shook his head and slunk into the warrior’s den. As his black tail vanished, Splashpaw got an idea. A brilliant, stunning, heroic, fun idea.

Splashpaw glanced around camp. Most cats were focused on the medicine den, waiting for an update on Waspdawn. Splashpaw fluffed himself up and marched out of camp.

“Where are you off with such swagger?” Tempestshade was guarding the entrance and purred mischievously when Splashpaw appeared. The lie came to Splashpaw with shocking ease.

“Weedfoot said I could join my littermates at Battle Beach!” Splashpaw chirped. “It’s north along the shore, right?”

“Head straight there, and have fun,” Tempestshade said with a nod. Splashpaw chirped happily and jogged away from camp.

Splashpaw was going to be a hero. He was going to find Lemmy and bring her to RippleClan for the reward she deserved.

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Leatherpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Drumpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter)

(Mosspounce: 19, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Tempestshade: 19, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Splashpaw heads into the human settlements to find Lemmy.

[Image ID: Splashpaw now wears a purple ribbon collar, and has + ACCESSORY: PURPLE RIBBON COLLAR written under him. He says to Lemmy, who has + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH under her, “This is a rescue mission!” Lemmy replies, “Yet we’re both trapped now.”]

---

Splashpaw wasn’t sure why so many of his Clanmates talked about the human settlement like the Dark Forest on earth. Yes, it smelled, it was loud, and until just recently, the loners that lived there might have killed Splashpaw for visiting. But Splashpaw liked the intense smells and sounds. He liked the tall dens and whinnying horses. He could see why so many cats lived here, whether with humans or along the horse paths. Who knew what stories and adventures lay hidden among the humans and Witch Hunters?

Splashpaw trotted eagerly through the streets, largely ignored by the humans. It was late afternoon, and the humans were as active as a Clan full of kits. They yowled and jostled one another, waving their paws about and stepping around the horse dung that covered the paths. Splashpaw knew the dangers of a horse path; Spikecrash made it her mission to warn every new litter of the danger of horses, sharing the tale of her scar. Yet the horses and monsters they dragged about moved slowly, careful to avoid the humans.

As Splashpaw crept among the humans, one of their gangly pink paws reached down and stroked his back. He shivered at the foreign touch and scampered away. To his surprise, the touch didn’t feel too bad! If humans touched kittypets like that all the time, Splashpaw could see the appeal of the lifestyle. He shook himself out though. He needed to focus!

A group of humans yowled and gawked at baskets of strange fruit, set within a wooden structure. A lilac tom relaxed at the base of the structure, idly watching the humans.

“Excuse me!” Splashpaw yowled. He weaved around the humans to reach the tom. “I’m looking for Lemmy. She’s a tortoiseshell with a yellow collar. Have you seen her?”

“I haven’t seen Lemmy since before that trouble at the Singing Place,” the tom sighed. “Sorry, young tom. .” Splashpaw crept underneath the structure and around the chattering humans. Even the loners of the human settlement hadn’t seen Lemmy? What had happened to her?

Two pink paws wrapped around Splashpaw’s torso. He should have yowled and clawed, bitten and kicked at his attacker, scrambled away to rethink his plan. Yet as his paws left the ground, Splashpaw was frozen. What was happening? He looked overhead and saw the gleaming, furless face of a human. It bared its teeth and made a high pitched sound that hurt Splashpaw’s ears. Splashpaw hissed as his heart beat wildly. He snapped his jaws at the human’s small paws, but even as his fangs dug into the soft flesh, the human’s grip only tightened. It made that high pitched sound again and pressed Splashpaw to its chest. The billowing fabric around its lower half swished as it spun and took off down a side path away from the taller humans.

How had Splashpaw not seen the human reaching for him? He had been so distracted by the other humans and his own quest, he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. That was the first thing Weedfoot told him when she showed him the territory; even when he was simply enjoying time outside camp, he had to pay attention. He could never predict when an excited dog or angry bear could stroll through the trees and pick Splashpaw as its next meal. He had forgotten that simple lesson, and now he was going to meet some cruel fate at the paws of a mad human.

Splashpaw squirmed and clawed at the human’s pale overcoat, but he couldn’t break through the strange material. All of his efforts were met with a tighter hold that squeezed the air out of him. The human was slow, but its gangly walk disoriented Splashpaw. Eventually, as fewer and fewer humans appeared around Splashpaw and his captor, the human slowed. It stood in front of a den that was likely squat by human standards but still towered over any cat. Another small human waited by the den’s entrance with a long white pelt in its paws. It hurried over to its companion and wrapped the pelt around Splashpaw. His legs pressed into himself. He couldn’t move!

The second human revealed a new object from the ripples of its colorful pelt; a bright purple ribbon. It reminded Splashpaw of James’ ragged black ribbon he still insisted he wore. Splashpaw’s terror cooled for a moment as the human wrapped the ribbon around his neck. It was shockingly smooth; no wonder James and Lavendertwist wore theirs as much as they could!

The peace only lasted a moment, however, as the pair of humans carried Splashpaw around their den and toward a smaller wooden den. The second human hurried ahead and moved the wooden barrier that revealed the dark interior. The human carrying Splashpaw quickly unwrapped his restraints and tossed him into the shadows. He spun and bolted for the exit, but the humans quickly slammed the wooden wall shut.

“Let me out!” Splashpaw yowled. “I’m not a kittypet! I’m a RippleClan historian!”

“They’ll be back with food later.” Splashpaw jumped. He peered into the darkness of the small den, barely big enough for a few cats. Giant human tools sat against the wall, sharp points jutting toward Splashpaw, ready to kill. A black lump laid in the corner, deep blue eyes glaring at Splashpaw. The entire den reeked of sick. As Splashpaw’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see the strange molly’s yellow collar and red patches.

“Are you Lemmy?” he gasped, trying not to sneer at the smell.

“You were one of the kits from RippleClan,” Lemmy huffed. She crept closer to Splashpaw before suddenly shivering. She coughed violently, bright yellow phlegm splattering onto the wooden floor. Memories of Rustshade’s phlegm crusted face splashed through Splashpaw’s mind.

“Stay back!” Splashpaw yelped, pressing against the wall. “You have yellowcough. You could get me sick.”

“I’ll try not to,” Lemmy grumbled as she shook from the effort of coughing.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Splashpaw asked, claws digging into the wood. “Mosspounce has been looking for you.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lemmy sighed softly. “I was going to assist him in rescuing his friend, but those human kits snatched me and threw me in here. I think they want me to be their housecat.”

“A collar means you already have a human, though,” Splashpaw huffed. “Why would they take you from them?”

“I don’t believe my human is very popular among the others,” Lemmy grumbled, shaking her head as she shivered once more. “He tends to keep to his den. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kits thought they were rescuing me.”

“That’s what I’m here to do!” Splashpaw chirped, standing a bit taller. “This is a rescue mission!”

“Yet we’re both trapped now,” Lemmy said. She returned to her spot in the back of the den. “If you’re quick when they return, you can likely slip away.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Splashpaw huffed.

“Then you’ll rot,” Lemmy growled, lips curled. Muffled yowls broke through the walls. Splashpaw backed up, ears perked. The yowling grew closer and closer. Suddenly, the wooden barrier tilted aside. Two big humans, male and female, crouched in the grass with long pelts in their paws. Splashpaw hissed, a warrior’s courage filling his heart. The humans cooed and clicked, but Splashpaw now knew better. He slashed at the long pelt and raked his claws along the big human’s paw. This time, the human yelped and pulled back.

“Still hopeless now?” Splashpaw yowled, kicking Lemmy. “Let’s go!” Life leaked through Lemmy’s cold eyes. She pushed herself up and, with whatever strength she had left, ran between the big humans. Splashpaw was right on her tail.

The human kits cried and wailed from the comfort of their large den as the older humans nursed their wounds. Splashpaw and Lemmy kept going. They ran across empty horse paths, as far from the human dens as they could. Splashpaw glanced back. Thank StarClan, the older humans were not chasing them; rather, they yowled at their wailing kits, utterly ignoring the escaping cats.

Lemmy collapsed as soon as they hit the trees. Splashpaw stopped, panting. Lemmy hacked up more phlegm, almost vomiting from the effort.

“I did it!” Splashpaw cheered, prancing around Lemmy. “I rescued you! I’m a hero!”

“We only got out because the adults finally realized their kits were keeping us trapped in there,” Lemmy growled, struggling to breathe.

“But maybe that realized that because they saw their kits grab me!” Splashpaw chirped. “And you said it yourself, you didn’t feel strong enough to run out on your own. So that means I saved you.” Lemmy laughed softly, shaking her head.

“That little black kitten kept telling me to stay strong,” she scoffed. “I never thought she would send a kit barely older than she.”

“I’m an apprentice!” Splashpaw huffed with mock indignation. “Wait, I never told you my name! I’m Splashpaw. Mosspounce has been waiting for you. He rescued Carnationspeckle thanks to you! Everyone in the Clan loves Carnationspeckle, so Downstar agreed that if Mosspounce found you again, he could offer you a position in the Clan!” Lemmy narrowed her eyes. “What’s that face for? What, do you not want to join RippleClan?” Lemmy seemed to have a sharp retort ready to go, but she tightened her jaw instead.

Splashpaw took in their surroundings. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was. Still, he knew his directions, and if he kept heading south, he would eventually hit the Great Northern River. He wasn’t sure if Lemmy had the strength to swim, but if they could find the stepping stones, they would be back in RippleClan like that! It was close to sunset though; his mothers would be so mad when he finally got home.

“I should make my way back,” Lemmy muttered, but she did not get up.

“And break Mosspounce’s heart?” Splashpaw scoffed. “You do realize he is in love with you, don’t you?” Lemmy blinked, her emotions well hidden behind her calculated gaze.

“He does remember I tried to kill him, doesn’t he?” Lemmy said.

“I think that’s part of why he likes you,” Splashpaw admitted. “It’s a little gross to me, but you shouldn’t keep him waiting. He told the Clan you would make a great codekeeper. I think it’s like what you used to do with the Witch Hunters, but you’re enforcing the warrior code rather than what the Witch Hunters follow. The Witch Hunter Code? I don’t know.” Lemmy stared at Splashpaw for a while. She stared for so long that his long fur started to burn. Eventually, Lemmy got to her paws with another cough.

“I can at least get my cough cured, I suppose,” Lemmy sighed. Splashpaw couldn’t hide his glee as his tail rose high. Lemmy shook her head, but there was no longer any malice in her face.

“Then I’ll lead you home, new Clanmate,” Splashpaw chirped.

As Splashpaw and Lemmy stalked into the trees, making their way toward their new shared home in the dimming light, Lemmy asked, “Do you know the way back?”

“I’m trusting my instincts!”

“So you don’t know?”

“...no.”

“This will be a long night.”

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Lemmy: 34, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

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animeyanderelover · 5 months ago

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For my Yandere Alphabet I always only accept 4 letters so I'll choose only 4 you named in your request.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, control, authority abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, strict behavior

Yandere Alphabet

Affection-How and how often do they show affection?

💓Cornelia is very specific with her affection for you as she is an ardent believer that good treatment should only result from good behavior. As a family member of the royal family she is freer yet somehow also more restricted than others as she has duties to fulfill as the princess and warrior for her kingdom. Affection is a sign of her pride and fondness for you yet she can't be proud of you if you misbehave yourself and disrespect her so as she is the one in charge of you. If you want affection it needs to be earned and then she prefers to not make a show of it and keep it in more private surroundings. Whilst neither verbal nor physical affection are love signs she excells in, she still values quality time together with you as a bonding experience. Whether it is enjoying an expensive meal with you or taking you with her to a famous opera. Whilst she does give you gifts from time to time as well she isn't outright drowning you in lavish presents as she would think of it as a waste to give you more than you need. When she gifts you something then only when she knows that you need or want and will actually use it instead of letting it lie around somewhere to be forgotten.

Confession-How do they make their feelings visible? Would they ever confess and court their darling?

💓Her feelings have always been tricky for the princess to accept, not even to mention to merely tolerate, as she possesses awareness of her own unhealthy emotions. Cornelia, the woman who prides herself as a strong warrior, feels ashamed of her own feelings that are out of her own grasp of control, something that has never quite happened to her before. It takes quite a lot out of her to stomach everything and in return your mere presence seems to put her in a worse mood as you are the catalyst of all of her current problems. She tries not to mind you but she can't help but hyper-focus on you a bit more which normally ends in her scolding you and calling you out for every little mistake you commit which she probably wouldn't have noticed under other circumstances. She'll give you an especially hard time if you are a servant or even a soldier serving her kingdom as it often feels like she is specifically targeting you. She will give praise where praise is deserved though so if you actually manage to elicit a compliment out of her you know that she is earnest.

💓Mutual marriage is not a well-known topic in the royal family as most engagements are arranged as nobles are wed to other nobles. It would already take quite a bit of work to ease up her father and other advisors into the idea of her taking someone who might not even be a noble and in the worst case not even from Britain. With all of the effort she puts in to even ensure that everyone will tolerate it she will not make a fool out of herself by having you reject her. By the time she informs you about all the arrangements she has made as well as her own feelings both of you have already known each other for quite a while which means that by that point in time she has already gotten a good picture of how you see her. Depending on her observations as well as the conclusion she could draw from them she might be less strict and demanding if she at least knows that you are loyal and respect her very much. In either case though you will not be given the option to choose whether or not you even want to be her lover as she has already made that choice for you.

Earnest-How intense and dangerous are they really?

💓Life with the Princess Cornelia can feel very restrictive and smothering. She never lets you off the hook even if you are her lover as she believes that the rules should reply to all people under her father's kingdom and she won't let you step out of line just because you think you have more privileges than others as she won't let you use her as a shield to get away with certain stuff. She has virtues which she lives by and which she demands all of her knights to have as well. Now that you also belong to her you have to live by those virtues as well and if you behave yourself, she will always without a fail have you punished. After all you are under her care and for that every act of rebellion and lack of respect would be directly disrespectful for her as well as put her in a position of embarrassment and humiliation as she is the one responsible for you. Her strictness shouldn't be mistaken with needless cruelty though as she never does anything that would torture you without any purpose, without any lesson she wants you to learn, behind it. She is domesticating you, establishes her own dominance without showing any weakness as you may otherwise see it as an opportunity to bite.

Sharing-Would they ever share their darling with someone/let them see others?

💓Cornelia is a strong and independent woman who doesn't rely on anyone else. As a member of the royal family there are a lot of public events she is expected to attend to and in such instances she will take you with her as you now have a role to fulfill as her lover. If you should have previously misbehaved though you will be locked up as she won't let you disappoint her in front of other people. She wouldn't needlessly show you off though as she knows that there are people out there who fight against her kingdom and who would target you simply to deliver a cowardly blow to her. It's due to her independence that I can see her only willingly share her darling with two people. One of them would be Euphemia, her beloved younger sister who she adores and would trust and who would serve as the opposite that would balance life out for you a bit. The other option would be Guilford, her chosen Knight who has proven his dedication and loyalty to her over and over again and who she knows she can trust blindly with you.

#yandere code geass #yandere cornelia #yandere cornelia li britannia #yandere x reader #code geass x reader

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onmyyan · 2 years ago

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Manny Delmont HC's

A/N: The last of the boys is here but he certainly ain't the least ;) EDITED

TW'S: YANDERE, MURDER, NEEDLE MENTION(TATTOO),

By far the most unhinged member of the family and thats saying A LOT lmao

Platonic yandere for his kin, he has killed in their name and will do it again.

One of if not the most loyal person you'd ever meet.

Once he decides he likes you he turns into your own personal puppy.

If the puppy was a man who enjoyed showing his love through the most violent means at hand that is.

Smells like honey and lavender and when he can't be bothered to hide it, blood.

Shares a lot of features with his twin, except his eyes, he has the brightest in his family, and they are often clouded with mischief.

Marcos uses him as a test dummy for outfits since they look nearly identical, if looks good on Manny he can go from there.

He's been offered to model before.

Best begging face in the business, he rarely has to ask for something twice.

Has a few tattoos, there's a blank cartoon heart over his real one, plans on getting his beloveds name inked there once he finds em.

And he knows he will!

Hopeless romantic, he loves romcoms!

Especially You on Netflix(👁👄👁)

Thinks Christine should have chosen to be with the Phantom of the Opera.

Also thinks Victor should have been with Emily from A Corpse Bride.

Mask kink but we'll circle back later ;)

It stems from his love of all things Horror something be shared with his twin, if he's watching something where he picks up even a hint of romance between the Slasher and the final girl he starts kicking his feet.

Thinks the bad guys deserve love to!

Gave himself his first tattoo, a stick n poke he made himself after watching 1 YouTube video.

Yeah that got infected, but he thought scars were sick as hell plus it was a great party story.

People fall over their feet for him on the daily.

Has gotten in the most fights out of all the brothers.

He may takes some licks during them but he was scary in the way that he never stayed down, and you could tell from the blank look in his eye and the twisted grin, if he got the chance he'd put you in the ground.

Terrible singer but that doesn't stop him from belting out his favorites in the shower

He loves pop music because there are a surprising amount of songs that remind him of his specific brand of love.

He really likes reading, especially when it teaches him something new, always learning this one.

He could be at the top of his class if he put in a smidge more of effort but he likes his life, as long as he's not actively causing chaos which lets be honest is very easy for him, the teachers often turn a blind eye to his goofing off.

Had several fake Id's before he was legal just to get into clubs to see bands preform.

Has a snake named noodle.

Shes a Python. He talks to her like a person

"You would not believe my day girl."

He's lean but strong, way stronger than he looks which always catches people by surprise.

If he doesn't have something occupying his hands he will start tapping on whatever available surface and if left unattended that will turn into beatboxing.

Funny even when he isn't trying

He once kidnapped a guy who was giving his twin grief and sent a picture of his upside down body in the group chat

"Felt kinda silly idk :) "

Manny's got high expectations for anyone dating his family, he's the real reason they have the rule about vetting people with each other.

When Ricky and Gabe were fighting over that girl way back when, a much younger Manny, hating the way his usually loving siblings were at each others throats, took it upon himself to rid them of the problem.

Knowing he only meant well Ricky and Gabe concocted the system the use today, but don't tell that to Manny.

His fits always come with a body count.

Oral fixation, he's constantly chewing on something.

His only source for relationships are his insane ass family so as the baby, it's natural he'd absorb all that crazy.

His laugh is more of a cackle.

He picks stuff up super easily but also gets bored just as fast so he has this random ass assortment of skills and neat party tricks.

Like one summer he got super into gymnastics so for fun he liked to twist into a backbend and speed crawl towards his brothers in the pitch black of the night.(Ricky has passed out from this)

Adrenalin junkie, he'd gotten his first motorbike at 15 and had been chasing the high he got from that first ride since.

Gabe taught him how to fight, not because he wanted to but because Manny had a tendency to mouth off to the wrong people and Gabe couldn't always be there to defend him.

Loves playing soccer, his father wanted him to have a much more legal way of releasing that devil in him, after nailing the goalie with a ball so hard he passed out, he fell in love with the sport.

He has a mean kick, if someone pissed him off enough he'd always manage to 'accidentally' kick the ball at their softest parts.

Has a new group of friends every week, he can't help it if everyone wants a piece of him.

He meets you at a bookstore, and he seen you long before he walked over to ask for help.

He watched the gentle way you handled the books, the care you showed them as you sorted, he could see you bobbing your head to the song softly playing from some speaker, the beams of light pouring in from the window cast you in a light that was damn near angelic.

He gaped at you silently for a bit before coming up with some obscure book title im his mind, if his assumptions about you were correct, you'd offer to help.

"Hi? Sorry to bug you." He put on his most charming smile and he could see it's effects instantly, the warm look in your eye gave him butterflies in his stomach.

"You're fine, how can I help you hun?" God even the way you spoke had goosebumps trailing down his back, your tone was like velvet.

"O-oh well I have this report due tomorrow that I completely spaced about- any chance you have this one?" He made sure to flash his watch, peacocking in every way he knew how, the rolex a gift from his Father, but you focused intently on the screen.

"Hmm this is an old one, I've definitely seen it, wanna follow me?"

"Absolutely." The response was innocent in nature but you had no idea just how much he meant that.

"So, you like to read or just a job thing?" He said gesturing to the rest of the store. To his delight you gave him another heart stopping smile, "I love books. How they can take you away from all the bullshit- oops sorry-" he laughed loud enough to hear it echo causing her to grin, "No don't be sorry, I wholeheartedly agree."

Ironically as picky as he was with his family's partners, he was yours the second you called him Hun, he got flashes of your life together the longer you two spoke, in reality the conversation was maybe ten minutes but that was all he needed.

Charms his way into your number, starts bringing you lunch and offering to pick you up, then he's offering to take you to work, no matter how early you started.

"I don't wanna mess with your sleep hun, plus you'd have to drive all the way across town and then to my job-"

He'd squish your cheeks together to steal a kiss, "Nonsense Darling, you could just spend the night if you're so worried about me." And would you look at that you're spending the night like every other night.

He's dummy smooth, he has you practically moved in before you're one month anniversary, if anyone were to try and plant some poison in your head like "You guys are moving kinda fast" or "shouldn't you get to know him better?" They are quickly put on his shit list.

As quick to cut a bitch as our boy is, he's also smart, and knows if everyone in your family and immediate circle started dropping dead he'd have a problem, so instead he gaslight gatekeeps and girlbosses his way to victory.

It be almost like love bombing, except it never goes away, he only ever falls deeper in love with you as time goes on.

Walk him like a dog he needs it.

Wants to take you all over the world, loves the idea of boneing in every continent.

He's soo cuddly the type to text you when you're in the bathroom cuz he miss you :(

The kinda guy where if you send him a cute picture he responds with a video of him falling to his knees wherever he's at.

Loves being the little spoon, but when he's wasted he has a tendency to flop on top of you like a starfish before curling around you like a koala.

Mean mugs the shit outta any girl who looks at him bec tf I'm for MY babys eyes only >:(

Promise rings for your one month anniversary that have both your guy's blood in them. How he got it you'll never know but you're a weirdo just like him and instead of questioning it you bear hug him.

Fantastic kisser, knocks the breath outta you each time, please touch him while you make out, pull his hair he promises not to moan that loudly again. Scouts honor.

He's lying btw

He is the opposite of afraid to moan in your ear, they almost sound exaggerated but no he's really that loud.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #manny delmont #yandere oc manny #yandere ocs #manny x reader #yandere hcs

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reikiajakoiranruohoja · 4 months ago

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W5 critical: Absence is not inclusivity

Critical of Werewolf the Apocalypse 5th edition, please don't read if you like the edition.

Few weeks ago, I saw a post stating that the removal of the cultural ties from (almost) all of the tribes is a good thing, because it means anyone can now be a member of any tribe.

What this mentality misses, however, is that the absence of culture is not the same as being inclusive. Sure, everyone can be anything, but from my experience, that freedom does not result in actual diverse depiction. After all, we have data that you can be as diverse as you want in your character creation options, most players will still make a white brown-haired cismale character.

In the same vein, all of the released adventures for W5 have been set in the US. Even though anyone can be anything, we have fallen back to treating the US as the default setting. Paradox is a Swedish company and Sweden has plenty of stories that fit WtA. This is no longer the case of a US company writing for a US audience.

What is worse, now that there are no specific tribes from Turtle Island, they don't have to be included in the stories set on their own lands. Instead, all characters can be white and the ST doesn't have to consider how the native people of the land see the white characters.

Even though the Legacy books often fell on their face when it came to depicting anything not a WASP American, the presence of cultural ties had a purpose.

Garou are creatures of community, they are people who band together not out of desperation or survival but because they like to have people around them. Unlike Vampire the Masquerade, Werewolf the Apocalypse is about honesty. Garou want friends, they want allies and a family without ulterior motives.

What this means is that each tribe was not just a group selected by a specific patron. They were communities of shifter and kin who all shared a culture and had for generations. A tribe is a garou's support network, their source of history and so on.

Of course, Werewolf the Forsaken's tribes aren't culturally tied. But the difference between the W5 tribes and those of The Moon is that there are only 8 or so base tribes and even then three of those are the 'bad guys'. The tribes in Forsaken are archetypes, werewolves of similar goals. But the game has always made a point that there are cultural differences depending on the country and there are plenty of lodges that are local to a specific area.

In W5, you have 11 tribes that were originally built to have ties to certain culture or broad concepts. Now, with most of the context removed, there are multiple tribes in W5 that could be cut and the setting would not change.

More than that, the tribes of W5 (aside from Cult of Fenris for some reason) are alone. Even the Uratha in Forsaken need to have contact with their potential tribe to join one, but in W5 the tribe patrons simply choose a fitting garou with no input from others of the tribe. This loneliness is further shown in how little thought is dedicated to a pack having a patron. Unlike every other WtA book, W5 does not come with a list of patrons. Instead the book, in a sidebar, recommends picking a tribal patron among the tribes of the pack. With an added mention to do contrition to other patrons who did not get picked. Even then, each PC is still expected to follow their tribal patron's ban on top of their pack patron's.

Meanwhile, in Legacy, the ties to various real life cultures give direction and community to the garou. When the pack chooses a patron, that patron is often not from any tribal brood. The pack, in Legacy, is important.

In W5, community, pack, family and all that are not only gone but also treated as the source of the garou's evils. Better be alone, better be without roots, it says.

No person is an island, yet that is what W5 wants things to be.

#w5 #werewolf the apocalypse #werewolftheapocalypse #wta #world of darkness #wod #rambly ddw

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sotwk · 1 year ago

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Hi, I was just wondering if you have any thoughts on Oropher’s wife/Thranduil’s mum? Is she dead? If so, how did she die? If she’s alive, is she still in the Greenwood or is she kicking about elsewhere? I have my own half-baked ideas but I wondered what yours were

Oooh thank you for asking for my thoughts on this! I got thoughts on everything, like a good Thranduil-obssessor. *pulls out my Notes folder* This dear, sweet lady never gets any attention, but she is certainly not forgotten by me!

I mentioned Thranduil's mother in this headcanon post about his birth, as well as my one-shot fic The Crown, but I am happy to provide more info below!

Thranduil's Mother in the SotWK AU

Oropher's wife was Lady Meluiel of Doriath, a Sinda from the same clan of Teleri that migrated into Beleriand, following Elu Thingol.

Apart from being Thranduil’s mother, she was also the younger sister of the great Beleg Cúthalion, which made Beleg Thranduil's uncle and mentor. (more HC info on their relationship here)

Meluiel was a trusted handmaiden to Queen Melian, and for a time also helped raise Lúthien Tinúviel during her childhood.

She was known for her sweet and cheerful disposition, contrasting with Oropher's more somber personality, but Oropher loved her so very deeply.

Thranduil was a bit of a rebellious child, with a wilder spirit than Lord Oropher would have preferred, so it was not uncommon for Meluiel to have to play mediator between father and son.

She would often encourage Thranduil to pursue the interests Oropher disliked, and behave according to his true self, rather than adjust his personality to please his father. Thranduil took this to heart and developed a fierce independence from his father (and his like-minded kinsmen) early on.

Sadly, Meluiel was among the many Elves of Doriath who perished in the Second Kinslaying. At the time, she was a lady in Queen Nimloth's court and was with her at the time of the attack. Meluiel was slain in a final stand trying to protect the young princes, Eluréd and Elurín.

For this reason, Oropher developed an unforgiving prejudice and hatred for the Noldor, which he carried with him for the rest of his life. This is also why he fought against Thranduil's love for Maereth (of direct Fëanorian descent--the horror!) for centuries before he finally (and reluctantly) consented to their union.

Thranduil was only 54 years old when his mother died; enough to have memories of her and to miss her terribly. As a result, he too was angry at the Noldor, and remained biased against them.

However, his bias was not strong enough to prevent him from fighting alongside Noldorin warriors during the War of Wrath. During this war, Thranduil befriended a few Noldor, some of whom he continued to associate with in the Second Age while he lived in Lindon. The most notable of these friends is Ivenil (a SotWK OC, appears in "Greenleaf's Day Out"), who followed Thranduil and his Sindarin kin to Greenwood. He eventually became an important member of King Thranduil's council.

Thranduil's openness of mind and ability to see past his own hate and prejudices in effect made him a stronger ruler than his father, since it allowed him to foster relationships with the other Elf-lords and peoples of Middle-earth--even the Dwarves!

His beloved mother would have been proud. <3

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #the hobbit #thranduil #tolkien #lotr #thranduil headcanon #oropher #mirkwood #greenwood the great #doriath

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zelphin124 · 3 months ago

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LCB-3: Chapter 1

A written account of the LCB-3 adventures from the perspective of LCB sinner Dr. Jekyll. My GOSH this is SO long. SO much happened the first day, but! I wanted to take you all on Jekyll's journey, so here is the first of the many written accounts of the adventures from the LCB.

Masterpost N/A -> Chapter 2

Lmk if you all enjoy stories like this!

~o0o~

One would often think the evening skies are as beautiful as midday on a summer afternoon. However, such a train of thought never occurred to those in the City, where the smoke and clouds covered the upper atmosphere for all the days of their life. To have the skies clear would be a sign of a catastrophe, and the gloomier it was, the happier the people were. In retrospect, happiness was a rare phenomenon of its own.

The city at night was always empty, for people lived in fear in the crook of their homes to avoid the Sweepers cleaning the streets every night. Commonfolk stood no combative chance against the cult purging the roads like wildfire.

Though some – either from stupidity, bravery, or sheer dominance – ventured at night. Each is for their different reasons, each risking their death. Yet to find a person in the streets at night was never a good sign. It was told to stay far away from anyone after the sun hit its face.

That was the first thought that crossed the woman’s mind as she approached the bus. She approached another woman, with short white hair and a circular face, one with a look of absolute omniscience and a uniform kin to the vehicle behind her. She held a long sword by her side, and it was clear she had already spotted her.

The woman approaching the bus was an average-height doctor. Her black hair was slicked back into a tight bun, woven around a headpiece that supported a red monocle on her left eye. Her uniform was of no importance or visible interest; the only conclusion one could draw from it was the association of its similarities with M Corp. However, the interest was in the weapon she carried. At first glance, it looked like a spear, but investigating it further would lead to the conclusion that it was a paintbrush. It was taller than the woman wielding it, yet it seemed as if it served well in combat, despite the tendency to believe otherwise.

It appeared that the woman approaching had recently cleaned and tidied herself up as if to make a first impression. A few moments of caution passed before she approached the white-haired woman next to the bus.

“You must be Ms. Jekyll,” the woman next to the bus stared her down.

“Dr. Jekyll, yes, uh-” Jekyll observed the bus with her keen eye, before looking back toward her. “Is this…” she paused, before pulling out a mediocre invitation from her jacket. She unfolded the papers carefully and read them with quick precision. “Limbus Company?”

“That it is.” The woman gently bowed her head.

Jekyll adjusted the brush to rest on her back before extending her hand awkwardly to the woman. “Pleasure to meet you… Ms…”

“Faust.”

“Faust. Are you my assigned manager?” The doctor asked, her eyes raised in a hopeful expression. She handed the paper that she signed to join the company to Faust.

Faust shook her head, “That you are mistaken. The manager you seek is inside the bus, to which you will enter shortly, and give that paper to.”

Jekyll’s face drooped disappointingly, retracting her hand and folding the paper back into the envelope. “I see. I shall follow you in, then…?”

“Faust will not be entering Metastolphilies.” She explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “Faust will stand by to wait for the last member joining the party. You may keep Faust company if you wish, your presence would be delightful.”

“Very well,” Jekyll gave a soft smile, strolling to Faust’s side and holding her hands into a folded position in front of her. She rocked back and forth, looking at the sky before back to the ground repeatedly.

The ever-growing silence bothered the doctor, it was only disturbed by the night sounds of the city. It had been a bit since Jekyll attempted small talk with someone new, but if she wanted to succeed in this place, and get away from where she came from, she saw it worth a try.

“Have you ever seen the stars?” Jekyll asked, tilting her head towards her.

“Faust has seen the stars many, many times.”

Jekyll gave a soft smile. “I hope to see them one day. I hope they are as great as people make them out to be.”

Faust did not reply, she only turned her head toward the front of the bus, before walking towards the man that stood in front of it.

Jekyll followed suit to gaze upon the approaching man. She first noticed his shaggy blonde hair combed in strands His face was littered with scars across his eyes and cheeks, but they weren’t as attention-demanding as the disgusted scowl plastered across his lips and hazel eyes. His clothes almost complimented his attitude; his button-up shirt and shaggy shorts came off as uptight, and tough-looking. He carried a blunt weapon that Jekyll could not identify, and she was not curious enough to find out.

“Mark, is it not?” Faust began to extend a greeting in his direction.

“It would be a very unfortunate disgrace if this is Limbus Company. What kind of pathetic trash is this?”

Despite Jekyll having experience with sour mouths, she never failed to zone out the moment more than a few curse words flew through the air. She took into account how the man – presumably Mark – complained about the poor travel experience via W Corp train transportation and how he was unimpressed with the company’s procedure of doing things.

From Jekyll’s perspective, he yapped about stupid things, complaining despite the luxurious treatment the company had offered him. As far as she was concerned, she was not offered a first-class ticket to a W Corp train, she walked here, taking days in advance to map out her journey. She tuned in and out to the conversation, staying relatively behind Faust in hopes of not being noticed. Jekyll wondered if Mark knew any other words in the common language besides curses.

After a long and painful conversation, Mark had agreed to head inside the bus, that Faust had named previously but Jekyll could not recall. However, when Jekyll looked towards the door of the bus, Mark met an obstacle blocking his way.

The obstacle was another man, with blonde hair in a braid and a goatee, which was more well-kept than Mark’s hair. His eyes were a faint blue as if a war glazed over the beauty he could see. He wore a cocky grin of delight as if causing trouble was amusing to him. The rhino horn on his head and the bug wings on his back were a signature symbol that this man was from the former G Corp. He wore a commander’s bennet and stood a few inches above Mark.

Mark threw curses towards the man, with a few fancy words such as ‘pansy.’ The man through insults back, but as if he was eager to see Mark’s temper explode. Jekyll was convinced that she never heard so many curses within ten minutes.

Mark tried to push the man with incredible force, but the commander pushed back, smirking slyly. Mark raised a threat Jekyll did not catch, but her eyes widened as she watched the tensions grow.

However, uncharacteristically, the man stepped back the moment Mark swung a punch. As if some other force compelled him to oblige for his life.

Mark stumbled onto the bus and immediately took a seat within view, the anger increasing on his face.

Jekyll swallowed hard, rubbing her hands together. “How long are these contracts supposed to last?”

“Depends on how efficient you are at your job,” Faust explained, glancing back towards her.

Jekyll forced a smile, rubbing her face. “Do I have to go in… right now? Like, are there any other members?”

Faust gave a slight smile and shook her head.

Jekyll sighed in defeat, feeling her hopes leave her body. She knew she signed up for difficult work on the move, but she was given zero information about the people she would be working with. She debated whether or not it was worth the gamble, and cashed all her luck in.

And like gambling, she came out empty-handed.

“Ngh, well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Faust,” Jekyll took a few steps towards the bus before looking back. “Will I see you again?”

“Faust believes our paths will cross again in due time.” She nodded softly. “Until then.”

Jekyll felt a tinge of pain as Faust turned and vanished from sight, so she turned and stepped onto the bus as well, minimizing the thought to process later.

It took longer than she would have wished for her eyes to adjust to the environment. The bus itself seemed small, with maybe twenty seats, most of them already taken. The bus itself was gray and dull, with little to no room like a soldier's quarters. The windows were tinted, and the only interesting thing was the door at the back of the mini hallway. Jekyll decided to glance and get a general idea of who she’d be working with.

In the bus driver’s seat was a young woman with symbolic gray clothing and a large hat. Her expression was dull and she paid no mind to the people behind her. Her silver hair fell to her shoes as her feet swung back and forth, listening to the person standing over her.

Jekyll observed the woman pointing at the map in the bus driver’s hands. Her brunette hair fell to her shoulders in a messy cut perfectly around her face. Her eyes were a gentle turquoise, and her clothes had the appearance of sown scraps with many strings hanging from various places. The colors frequently switched from green, lime, and navy blue from her scarf to her shoes. Her skin glowed a golden color, and she talked in such a joyful and excited tone. Jekyll didn’t realize that kind of happiness still existed. Jekyll was only curious about the small blue necklace she wore around her neck, it seemed out of place for the style she presented.

Jekyll took a seat in the front, the seat closest to the bus door. In front of her stood a tall, prominent man with gray hair and a red gaze that could pierce through anyone’s soul. His clothes were gray, similar to the bus driver’s. He had a looming presence about him, something that was told in the stories known across the city.

Jekyll searched her mind for the exact tale he reminded her of. The closest she could match the man with was the tale of the Red Gaze, a legendary freelance color fixer. His name was told to be Vergilius, and he hadn’t been seen around the City much despite his fame.

If he was the Red Gaze, why would he be here? Jekyll thought.

Probably the same reason we are here, idiot. To run away.

Jekyll shook as the other voice in her head spoke, it was more prominent than the previous days. She clenched her hands, fighting for control of her mind once more.

She successfully repressed the voice again. She sighed in relief. That was close… too close…

A figure stood up from one of the seats 8 o’clock from her. She wore a cruel and bland expression on her face as she made her way around to each of the sinners. Jekyll observed her long, black ponytail of hair flow gracefully behind her. Her clothes were black with a shard of yellow through them. She was tall and proud, and her emotions were the same level of pissed-off as the supposedly Red Gaze.

She walked over to where Mark had sat, his feat spread out and his scowl all the same. Jekyll half-guessed the woman was going to slap him across the back of the head for his attention, but what caught her attention, even more, was the man that he quarreled with earlier was sitting right next to him.

“Name.” The woman demanded.

Mark turned around and cursed at her before giving her his name, and she replied curtly before turning toward the man next to Mark. “Name.”

“Othello, darling.” The man’s voice was high, soothing, almost alluring in a shuddering way. He stood up and bowed, taking up the entire space as he did so. Othello still held that same smirk as he did with Mark. “Yours?”

“Mallo.” She gave him a disgusted look before turning around to the person behind her. “Name.”

The person she addressed was a tall man with long white hair to his chin. His eyes glowed like a light in the deep ocean, and he had a courageous aura about him. He stood proud with his spear close to his side, and his gaze was more determined than the others she had seen. “Pen,” he answered quickly with a light nod.

“Mallo.” The tall woman strode away from him as soon as she said it.

Jekyll’s gaze would’ve followed Mallo if it hadn’t been for Pen immediately walking over to her. “I like your spear,” he shyly mentioned, his eyes smiling at her. “Are you a hunter too?”

Jekyll was taken aback by his approach, questions, and comments. He seemed sweet, and she didn’t wish to burn a connection that might or might not be there, so she answered carefully, her stutter getting in the way. “O-Oh, yeah, you know I guess this is a spear o-of some s-sorts, haha!” She adjusted the paintbrush to sit behind her. “I-I-I like your spear, too.”

“Thank you,” he held his spear high and looked up toward it, smiling softly. “So are you-”

“Name.” Mallo came forward, her expression bland as she stared at Jekyll.

“Uh- Uh I’m-”

Say the right name. You know the right name.

“H- Jekyll.” Jekyll shook her head, sighing in relief. “What about yours?”

Jekyll knew Mallo would respond with her name and leave, and Jekyll winced as she did exactly that, knowing she already knew Mallo’s name.

Pen also nodded and took his leave, sitting in a seat out of Jekyll’s initial sight.

As Mallo went up to the front of the bus, Jekyll turned around to spot one more person she had not met. His hair was black and slicked back on his head in chunks like Mark’s hair, he had a scruffy short beard that could barely be seen on his tan skin. He already wore a uniform dedicated to Limbus Company, and he had a neutral expression any man in his late thirties would have.

“Hello, I don’t think I’ve met you yet,” Jekyll turned around and waved her hand awkwardly. “I’m Jekyll, what’s your name?”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you Jekyll.” The man looked up and gave a short bow from his seat in response. “I’m Jatayu.”

Jekyll nodded and smiled upon receiving his name. “Jatayu, that’s a nice name, it’ll be a pleasure to work with you, hopefully,” she chuckles, shooting a glance at Othello and Mark.

“Likewise,” Jatayu sighed, sitting back in his chair and looking straight ahead.

Jekyll followed his gaze, resting on Mallo collecting the names of the people up front. Jekyll barely caught anything before the brown-haired woman started moving her hands excitedly, looking at the Red Gaze.

“Oh my gosh! New people! Can I talk to them now, please?!” Her smile beamed with energy, and she could barely keep her feet off the floor as if she was fighting the urge to jump up and down.

The older man looked at her with a tired look. “Not just yet, Kuvira.” He name-dropped her as Mallo’s attention turned toward the man. She wore an expression of annoyance as if she was upset the Red Gaze didn’t let the woman speak.

Jekyll’s attention turned toward the silent quarrel between Othello and Mark. She thought it was odd they both would deliberately sit next to someone they disagreed with. She shivered at the thought of having to do that herself.

She could never.

“Alright everyone, take a seat.” The older man raised his voice, holding a book in one hand and flipping to a certain page. “I will begin the welcoming speech shortly.”

No one seemed to object as everyone turned their attention towards the legend. He sighed as if this was something he did not wish to do again. Jekyll pitied the man, perhaps no one had seen the Red Gaze for so long because he was here.

He began to speak in a dull tone. “Greetings. Welcome to the LCB-3, otherwise known as the Limbus Company Bus 3. You have all been selected by our brightest minds to embark on a journey to obtain… heh..”

He paused for a moment, with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. “…You know... I’ve already done this... Twice now. I wish to not have a third time.” He turned towards the girl he called Kuvira. “Kuvira. Do you wish to be my assistant? Let us see how well your reading comprehension has gotten. Consider this a test to your… ‘extravagant work and effort’…”

Kuvira’s eyes lit up with glee. “Oh my gosh! Really?! I mean, yes, yes sir, I-”

Vergilius tore a paper cleanly from his notebook and handed it to her. “Show me how you’ve grown. The Sinners are not the only ones who have to grow here.” He didn’t wait for a response before moving to the front, leaning on the dashboard next to the bus driver. She pouted, he moved, and her frown faded.

Kuvira collected herself and stepped forward, clearing her throat. “Well! Welcome everyone! Before I begin, I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Kuvira Stone, some call me Kuv; I really don’t care what you call me. I am Vergilius’ assistant! I make sure a lot of the work gets done and eases everyone’s load. If you ever need anything, your gal’s got you, alright?”

Jekyll leaned back in her chair, sighing. Everyone else seemed to get comfortable as well; everyone could tell it was going to be a long introduction.

“To begin with a…” Kuvira skimmed the paper in her hands. “Gee, do I need to read all of this? This is long.”

“If you wish to prove yourself via your reading comprehension, yes,” Vergilius answered.

Kuvira forced a frown. “Okay okay,” she turned back towards the party. “Let’s start with… Oh! A bit of history and background knowledge. Alright… Limbus Company began in the year 984. 10 years have passed since its origins, and has gone through various developments. For the concerns of you all today, your only concern is the LCB team, or the Limbus Company Bus Team. Before you, 2 previous teams have been formed. The LCB-1, and the LCB-2. You all will form the LCB-3.”

How odd, there had been two teams before them and they have more work to do? Jekyll shuddered, wondering if this was a job that was going to be worth leaving everything else behind for.

“As you have been made aware of before joining the company, you have all been entered into person-specific contracts,” Kuvira continued with a voice that fluttered like butterflies. However, there was a tinge of sass behind her words. “Each person’s contracts may have different clauses, but you will all receive the same reward for your efforts: your heart’s desire.”

There was a pleasant shift in the atmosphere on the bus. Everyone was reminded of the reason they were here.

“However, in order to obtain your Heart’s Desire, and earn your greatest wish in this world, you must accomplish various tasks in service to Limbus Company.” Kuvira looked up from the paper, the glow from her skin dimming. “And you must do a good job, don’t think this job is one where you can do whatever you want. There’s a reason you are the third team, and we will expect you to follow the contracts. Hopefully, that is understood.”

The doctor realized she would have to reread her contract to remind herself of the terms she agreed to. It had been a bit since she looked at it, and she signed the paper in haste.

Kuvira’s sigh snapped Jekyll back into reality. “Okay, this is like… really long bare with me guys. Here are the tasks you will need to complete! Number 1, You must Obtain Golden Boughs. As the name suggests, these are mysterious Golden tree branches or boughs.” Kuvira paused and turned towards Vergilius. “Oh! They’re tree branches? You’ve been collecting the…” she pauses, thinking for a moment. “I will ask that later. That’s just really good to know, huh.”

Vergilius’ face was full of impatience.

Kuvira cleared her throat and continued. “This is your Primary Objective. Failure to obtain Golden Boughs can result in fewer resources funded to the LCB-3’s budget. Which means,” she looked up from the script again. “If you want good food, do your job well.” She smiled and adjusted the paper to read further. “If you have Questions regarding this task, you may ask your Manager Dante, or his Assistant, Jatayu.”

Kuvira gestured to the man in the back. Jatayu took the opportunity to stand up, wave to the rest of the party with a slight bow, and sit back down. Jekyll couldn’t tell if everyone looked his way to acknowledge the veteran.

“Secondly!” Kuvira exclaimed. “You will need to protect Dante with your very lives. Dante is your Manager and has the ability to enter Contracts with certain people. You, after being reviewed by our brightest minds, have been picked out as these special people. Whilst you are under a contract with Dante, you will be referred to with the job title of Sinner(s). This is your secondary objective. If you have any questions as to why regarding this task, you may ask your Manager Dante, or his Assistant, Jatayu.” Kuvira blinked a few times. “I suppose any questions will go to Jatayu or Dante… who doesn’t seem to be here at the moment.”

Jekyll took that as a red flag. Managers should be at a meeting like this, yet the main one they were supposed to protect was not. Were they supposed to already be protecting him?

Would she be able to protect the manager from herself?

“Uhhh thirdly! You will need to Defeat Abnormalities and Collect EGO. EGO is special, reality-defying equipment that will assist you on your adventure. Abnormalities are a special type of monster that can only be fought by Sinners or those with EGO.” Kuvira flattened her face in a silly way. “Don’t get too cocky when fighting these guys. If you don’t have EGO, you will be powerless. I don’t care how dominant you were in your background, these monsters will destroy you without EGO…” She looked back at the paper. “Any other method is ineffective- oh hey it’s like this paper is reading my mind, haha!”

The silence was loud as she flipped the paper over. “There are a lot of intricacies and lore surrounding both, however, this is not the time to explain them. This is your tertiary objective. If you have any questions as to why regarding this task, you may ask-” her face flattened again. “I think you know who can take your questions at this point, so I shall skim over that.”

Jekyll glanced around the room. In her eyes, the only person truly paying attention was Pen, and even he seemed to be slightly more focused on the woman’s radiant skin than what she was saying. Do they not see this as important information? She glared at Mark and Othello.

Kuvira sighed. “Okay just a little more guys, I think… Uh fourth, you will need to suppress distortions. Distortions are a phenomenon that occurs when a person reaches a mental breaking point and has been occurring throughout the City. Distortions can be saved or killed. This is your quandary objective. If you have- yeah. Basically, you can distort too, it has happened in the company before… If you’re struggling mentally, please come talk to me. The party and the managers would rather not have you distort and disrupt the mission.” Kuvira sighed, “Speaking of, these are all your objectives. However, there is more to discuss. Should you cause too much trouble for the Company to benefit from, your contract with the company and Dante will be terminated.”

Kuvira let out a sigh of pain in such a way that seemed off from a person like her. “This has happened,” she began. “I watched this with my own eyes, so please, be on your best behavior. It would be ideal that you see to your contract end. Your work will go to waste if you don’t.”

Jekyll glanced around again, watching Jatayu shifting uncomfortably. She wondered if he was part of the first team, and had to watch both teams get fired… if they were fired, Jekyll needed to find out more information. It seemed important to know, but not information the company would immediately put out there for the newcomers to acknowledge.

“Oh hey look, we are almost done, guys. There are just some important locations to know about.” Kuvira cleared her throat once more, holding the end of the paper with both hands. “There are various facilities on the bus that you should be aware of. The Hall is where you will be sleeping. You will have personalized rooms. The technology on the bus will cause the rooms to match your mental States, for better or worse.”

Jekyll froze in terror. Their rooms would match their mental state? Her heart rate started to quicken, and she noticed how she violently held her breath. Surely, they were exaggerating… surely it wouldn’t match what she had to fight every day.

How would the room betray that, if they were telling the truth?

“Uhh The Ordeal Gauntlet is where the LCB-3 can face ordeals, which are sub-species of abnormalities. Doing so can not only strengthen and train your body but can yield rewards. To practice yourselves, this seminar will end with a tour of the Ordeal Gauntlet for combat training. The third place is the Mirror Dungeons, this is where certain abnormalities that the LCB-3 and previous teams have failed to properly defeat and suppress the first time around. Using special technology, these abnormalities are located here, waiting for the LCB-3 to dispose of them. The fourth palace is the Refraction Railway, which is relatively new. It is a challenging gauntlet of fights not fully encountered in your adventure and yields treasures that otherwise you wouldn’t receive. There is no guarantee you will succeed and win. But doing the challenge proves yourself enough- this is odd wording. Basically, there are three areas to fight some monsters for rewards, or to let off some steam, if I remember correctly.”

Jekyll noticed the slight smirk Vergilius temporarily wore on his face.

“The Lunacy Storage is where Dante goes to extract various identities for the sinners. This will be covered by Jatayu during the combat training seminar.” Kuvira gestured to him in the back again, giving a soft smile. “Lastly, the Corridor. At various times during your time here, the Corridor will expand, with new features to enjoy. However, venturing into the corridor is highly dangerous, and has led to near-catastrophic consequences. Under no circumstances should anyone but Faust enter the Corridor.”

Faust, the person who left in the dark of night moments ago. She said she wasn’t a manager, so why did Kuvira talk about Faust as if she was? Jekyll had many questions, which she figured she’d have to go out of her way to ask Jatayu about. He seemed nice enough, anyway.

Kuvira gave a smile as she reached the end of the paper. “These are all the notable features of Mephistopheles, the bus, at this current time. And now, because Faust trusts Vergillius to allow Kuvira to read the remainder of this introduction, Faust would like to task Vergillius with explaining the concepts of EGO Gifts to the Sinners. Kuvira, presuming you are reading this, congratulations are in order-” Kuvira turned around and gave a sly smile to the Red Gaze. “Heh, Faust truly does know all.”

The sigh from Vergilius was rememberable.

“To the Sinners, however, this marks the end of the speech. Any questions can be directed to either Dante or Jatayu- as said many times, geez. Uh, when the Sinners are ready, Vergillius - presuming he has proven Faust correct - will lead the combat training seminar. Thank you for joining Limbus Company. Your every desire and wish will be answered.”

Kuvira ended the welcoming speech with a bow and a smile. No one clapped for her. It didn’t seem to bother her as she stepped backward and handed the papers to Vergilius, looking up at him with glee. “How’d I do? Did I do well?”

“You did… well, yes.” Vergilius sighed. “You’ve proven your reading comprehension to be quite adequate.”

Kuvira beamed in delight, the glow on her skin radiating brighter. “Thank you! It seems Faust was also knowledgeable about me reading it, haha!”

Vergilius placed the pieces of paper back into his notebook, heaving another heavy sigh. “Where is Dante?” He ignored Kuvira’s comment.

“You know, he should’ve been here, let me go find him!” Kuvira took a step forward before looking back. “If that’s uh… alright with you, and you don’t have anything else for me to do at the current moment.”

“No, no I don’t. Please, go find Dante. You may join us in watching the combat as well if you’d like.” Vergilius dismissed her with a wave of his hand as he searched through his book.

Kuvira nodded and strolled across the bus between the sinners, but didn’t get very far as the back door swung open, revealing someone of high status.

Jekyll turned her head to focus on the person who’d just entered the front of the bus. He had a red clock for a head, with yellow and black flames flickering out of his skull-like hair. He wore a pure red suit with yellow stitches and outlines down to his feet. His hands were covered with black gloves and he held many, many papers in his hands. Despite his lack of a face, Jekyll could tell his expression was panicked.

“Dante!” Kuvira strode up to him with pride. “So good to see you, finally! We were just talking about you and I was coming to find you!”

A series of clock noises ensued.

“Here uh, you missed the speech,” Kuvira said in a more hushed voice, taking the papers from his hands and filing them into hers. “Go introduce yourself to your new sinners, I will take care of this paperwork okay? You got this!”

Dante bowed in respect as Kuvira used her foot to close the door behind her. He then strolled up to the front of the bus with a proud posture, before turning around, raising his hands, and-

More series of ticking ensued.

The sinners stared blankly, unable to comprehend what he was saying. Jekyll felt her heart sink into her chest. “I-Is this Dante?” She asked out loud. We’re… working for a manager we can’t understand?

The rest of the sinners mumbled under their breaths, giving judging looks toward Dante.

“Uh, Dante, they can’t understand you yet,” Jatayu grabbed the manager’s attention. “You haven’t shook their hands yet.”

Dante slapped his head, frantically going up to the closest sinners and extending his hands towards them.

Mark was the first, scowling at Dante. “Great, we have a spineless pansy for a manager,” he cursed at him, reluctantly shaking his hand.

Dante made a few more ticking noises, leaning backward.

“Mark, now go do the others already,” Mark answered, pulling his hand away from Dante and looking out the window.

Dante moved towards Othello, offering his hand. Othello shook his hand, with the same smile on his face. “Don’t mind Mariachi over here, he’s in a sour mood,” he teased. “Name’s Othello partner, a pleasure to be working with ye.”

Dante didn’t hesitate to walk over toward Pen, the next closest. The lad seemed happy to meet him. “You must be Dante, our new manager?”

Dante nodded, shaking his hand.

“You’re going to lead me to the star, right?” Pen asked, with hopeful eyes.

The ticking stopped; Dante looked around before speaking to Pen again in words Jekyll had yet to understand. However, his answer seemed to satisfy Pen. The sinner smiled and sat back down.

Dante turned to Jekyll next, extending his hand. Jekyll stood up in reply, wiping her hands on her jacket and clearing her throat before extending her hand to greet her new manager. “H-Hi, I’m Jekyll-”

She cut herself off the moment she touched his hand. Suddenly, it felt like a coil around her soul was unwrapped around her and tied to Dante. The fear of death, the fear of merely having mortality suddenly was attached to this man. Her life and death felt as if it was no longer her concern, but the concern of the one standing before her.

The ticking noises suddenly became audible. “Jekyll! A pleasure to have you! I’m Dante, as I’m sure you know.”

Jekyll let out a large sigh of relief. “Oh thank the Arbiters, I can understand you now.” She laughed awkwardly and scratched her head. “I was worried we’d have to communicate by writing or something.”

“No worries,” Dante nodded before he turned toward the last sinner who needed their hand shook: Mallo.

Dante held his hand to Mallo. “Greetings, I am Dante,” he said in a light-hearted tone.

Mallo stared at the hand, refusing to shake it. She didn’t understand Dante yet, but it seemed like she didn’t wish to, either.

“Uh, you need to uh… shake my hand,” Dante scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“You have to shake Dante’s hand for the contract, Mallo,” Jatayu informed her.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it,” the woman replied, leaning back into her chair.

Pen wasn’t having it. He walked over, grabbed Mallo’s hand, and forced it into Jatayu’s, shaking it up and down.

Mallo resisted but failed to do so under the force upon which Pen acted. She cursed at him before reluctantly shaking Dante’s hand up and down herself, binding herself to the contract, binding herself to Dante.

Mark glanced up with all the commotion going on. He made some comments Jekyll didn’t quite catch, but she paid close attention to the events that followed.

Othello stood up from Mark’s comment, turning towards him. “Marachi trying to beat Mallo in the worst mood on the bus.”

“You better shut your mouth before I do it for you,” Mark snapped, standing up to tower over the former commander.

Othello seemed unphased. “You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t act on his word,” he taunted Mark, freely, belittling him and getting away with it.

Jekyll could theoretically see steam blowing out of Mark’s ears. He raised his fists and cracked his knuckles. There were a few more lines of cursed banter before Mark hissed at Othello. “Let’s finish what we started, then.”

Othello grinned, raising his own fists. “Gladly.”

Dante tried to step in, “Guys, it’s the first day! Please let’s not f-”

“Stay out of this, clockface,” both of the men said in unison, their eyes locked on the target.

Othello lunged for him. He swung first, hitting Mark right in the nose, and sending him back. Mark caught his feet and reeled forward, punching Othello in the nook of his neck and shoulder, making him stumble back.

Dante stepped forward to step in, but Pen stood up and pulled Dante away, standing between the manager and the fight. His spear was ready to kill if anyone dared to step in his direction.

Jekyll noticed that Mallo watched with glee, a large smirk on her face. Jekyll’s attention returned to the two men as they collected themselves. It’s only day one, are these idiots serious-

Suddenly, without warning, a sharp, red light blinded everyone on the bus. Othello cried out in pain as he fell onto the floor, blood pouring out of his arms at a rapid rate. Everything up to his elbows had been cut clean off his body, and his clothes were drenched in blood.

However, Othello was the lucky one of the two. Mark immediately imploded on the spot from the flash, turning into a pile of body remains and a puddle of blood.

Everyone’s eyes widened in horror as the Red Gaze stepped forward, his eyes glowing with great intensity as he eyed down Othello, who was trying to keep his arms from shaking and losing so much blood. His attempts were futile, and he refused to return his stare at the man before him.

“Couldn’t even go one day when without breaking a term on your contract,” Vergilius seethed, staring into Othello’s soul.

Jekyll barely noticed the interaction between Vergilius and Pen, and how the Red Gaze explained how he wasn’t going to hurt Dante, so he didn’t need to stand his guard. Jekyll clenched her head, breathing rapidly. Her heart rate quickened as her gaze was locked on the remains of Mark. She felt her sanity drop alarmingly, and the voice got louder.

HAH! HAHAHAHAAH- A LITTLE MORE, A LITTLE MORE AND I’M FREE!

No, stop! Stop! Jekyll started to shake, she pressed her hands against her head. Be silent- you-! She couldn’t control the voice. Her vision got hazier, and her control was slipping by the second. Her voice became quieter and quieter as the other got louder.

Keep staring, Jekyll! Look at the blood on the floor! How beautiful! How enticing! HOWEVER SO MALICIOUS AND-

The voice stopped, it was replaced with the loud sound of a clock rewinding. Jekyll looked up to see Dante clench his fists in pain, before heaving a few breaths and standing upright once more.

Right before her eyes, Othello’s arms reassembled together, all of the blood put back into place moments before the attack happened. It was as if he had never been attacked in the first place.

Same with Mark; Mark’s body slowly but surely rose from the ground, assembling in reverse the exact way he was destroyed. Limb by limb, every blood droplet returned to its owner, and Mark stood there, completely unscathed.

Jekyll sighed in relief, slowing her heart rate down. That was way too close…

She felt the voice pout. I’m still here idiot.

Shut the hell up, Jekyll hissed at herself.

There was more banter thrown between Othello and Mark, but Jekyll had a hard time remembering it and making sure her breathing slowed. Vergilius didn’t seem to address either of them before he went through the back door of the bus and didn’t look behind him as he closed it.

“Right, you two,” Dante stepped forward. “No fighting your allies, it causes pain to bring me back.” “Ngh, I can do whatever the hell I want!” Mark hissed at Dante. “You're just our personal medic to help us get the job done, with no spine to command us at all. So get out of the way, pansy, and let me finish-”

“You really want to be imploded again?” Othello smirked, rotating his arms as he got off the floor. “Couldn’t even take a single hit before you died.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Othello,” Mark roared, getting up with no trouble. “Let’s get on with the tour of this trash, stupid bus already.”

I love these guys.

No, no we don’t! Jekyll groaned in pain, massaging her eyes in pain before standing up and giving a polite, passive-aggressive smile to anyone looking in her direction.

“Right,” Dante sighed, gesturing to Jatayu. “Let’s give them a tour of the bus, I suppose.”

The party slowly made their way to the back of the bus, which to the newcomer’s surprise, was a lot bigger on the inside than the outside. The hall stretched out to various sections, and each of the doors in the first room they entered were color-coded.

“Right, these are your rooms, where you may stay in your downtime!” Dante began, backing up and resting against the door of his room. “Your uniforms are inside, on your beds. Feel free to explore inside them.”

Mallo was the first to enter her room, without a word. The others slowly made their way to their rooms, going inside and closing the door behind them. Pen and Jekyll were the last ones remaining outside in the hall, with Pen looking at the exterior of each door to every room, perplexed as if he was wildly suspicious of the bus itself.

Jekyll shrugged and rested her hand on the door handle. She smiled softly. It’ll be nice to have my own room, thankfully. She opened the door and peeked inside.

The first thing she noticed was how her room had two very different colors as if it was split down the middle. That was all Jekyll was able to see before she noticed the woman standing in the middle of the room, smiling wickedly at her.

“Boo.”

Jekyll’s heart stopped. She slammed the door shut, stepping away from it as her hand clenched her chest. Her heart rate picked up again, and she couldn’t catch a breath to save her life. No, no, no, nope, no way, nuh uh, surely there’s another room I can- stay- ack- help-

The door slam caught the other’s attention. Pen was the first one to walk up to her. “Are you okay?”

Jekyll stood up straight and glanced him in the eyes, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her throat. “Haha! Hahaha, yeah, I’m fine... I’m fine… uh…”

Pen tilted his head curiously but did not say anything else as Dante came up and asked the same question.

Jekyll gave him the same reply before her breath finally slowed down. “So sorry- I didn’t mean to alarm everyone, ahah… Do… Do we have to put on the uniforms… right now?” She stared at Dante with a pleading look of pain on her face.

If Dante could have a facial expression, it would be one of confusion. “Well, I suppose you don’t need it right at this moment-”

“Oh thank the Arbiters…” Jekyll sighed in relief, clenching her heart before her breath slowed again.

Pff, weak. The voice mocked her.

She retorted back. Moron.

You jumped like a cat, it was hilarious.

I hate you, I hope you know that.

That’s the best part.

Her internal dialogue was caught off as Mark burst the door open, storming up to Dante and grabbing him by the scruff, his eyes raging with fury. “How do you know that?!” He hissed. “How does the company know about what I saw in there?!”

Jekyll looked around for Pen, but he was nowhere to be found. However, Dante seemed surprisingly calm as he replied. “I don’t- we don’t… We don’t know anything about how your room is, but as explained by Kuvira… your room matches your mental state, and reveals your memories.”

Mark’s back heaved from the breaths he was taking before he dropped Dante onto the floor and stormed off to the right… He went in the opposite direction that they were supposed to go.

Jatayu sighed and followed behind Mark from a safe distance, leaving Jekyll and Dante in the hallway alone. However, she didn’t get the chance to say anything before Othello came out of his room, seemingly in a good mood.

Dante gestured to the left hall, mentioning that was the way to go. Jekyll decided to go immediately, not waiting for the others. She needed time to sort through everything that happened that day.

To her dismay, Othello followed close behind her. She couldn’t recall if he said something to her or not, but amongst the very, very little small talk they had made, she remembers giving it straight that she would be referred to as Dr. Jekyll. No nicknames, no other names, only Dr. Jekyll.

She had earned that title and was going to stick with it.

Aw, I like nicknames though. The voice whined as Jekyll walked ahead of Othello to end the conversation.

Your opinion is not needed.

Eventually, Jekyll reached the end of the hallway and entered a spacious room, with some sort of control panel to the left, and another hallway to the right. The control panel only had a few settings on it, and it was labeled Ordeal Gauntlet. Jekyll connected that name to the speech Kuvira gave not too long ago.

In front of her stood Vergilius with a box in his hands, full of various small equipment. Kuvira was by his side, trying to rummage through the box. Vergilius gently whacked her hand away each time she tried.

“And what could these be?” Othello strolled up to Vergilius as if nothing happened.

Jekyll was more hesitant to approach the two. Was it against the contract? Is she allowed to talk to them? Would Vergilius flatten her like a pancake if she tried? Should she even think about trying? Her anxiety spiked as she slowly took a few steps toward the Red Gaze and Kuvira against her better judgment. She vowed to read the contract in detail to make sure she didn’t break any part of it.

“These are EGO gifts,” Vergilius explained to Othello. “These are for the party to assist them on the journey. Normally, I’d have everyone divide them up to what serves them best. However, seeing as only three of the six of you are here, I suppose it is first come first serve.”

Jekyll turned around to see Pen walk through the hall into the room. Pen asked her why she was not approaching them, and she explained that she was afraid of the incident that happened in front of the bus.

“I sense no hostility,” Pen shrugged, taking a few steps forward. “I’m sure we will be okay. Come, let’s claim some of the EGO gifts before the others get here.”

That specific wording triggered something in Jekyll’s brain. She realized the gifts were limited, far and few, and the urge to have the best ones overwhelmed her. She didn’t want to take any chances. Greed overtook her as she went up to the box first, scrummaging through the EGO gifts before choosing three that she thought would benefit her the most. She stepped to the side. Her mind raced as she put the EGO gifts on.

See? You should listen to me more often. The voice hissed. You get more benefits when you put yourself first.

Yeah, at the expense of others… Jekyll frowned.

Do you really want to care about these idiots? No, you take what’s yours.

I will give them back if someone needs them more, Jekyll argued, putting the last EGO gift on.

As if I would let you do that.

“Where are the others?” Vergilius asked openly, staring down the hall.

“Dante stayed behind to wait for Mallo to exit her room,” Pen explained. “Jatayu and Mark went down the other hall.”

“Hmm,” He hummed in disapproval, and took a few steps back, resting the box on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” The familiar voice of the Red Gaze’s assistant ran through Jekyll’s ears.

Jekyll glanced up to see Kuvira had approached her, her eyes beaming and her hand extended. Her skin glowed bright, but somehow, it wasn’t blinding. Jekyll was thankful for the recognition and shook her hand. “Good evening… Kuvira, was it?”

“Yes ma’am! I’m not sure I caught your name, would you be so kind as to tell me?”

“Jekyll. Dr. Jekyll.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re a doctor?!” Kuvira’s eyes widened in delight. “That is so cool, like, wow! I’m sure you worked really hard to study for that, and it sure has paid off!”

Jekyll smiled softly, retracting her hand and giving a slight bow. “Yes, it was hard work, and I appreciate your acknowledgment.”

“Also before I ask all my questions, I just have to say I love your style, it is beautiful with the simple color scheme, awh! It’s just glorious, and it really compliments you!”

“Aw, thank you,” Jekyll’s smile widened as she stared at Kuvira. This person is so… oddly kind. People with her energy and happiness would die easily in the city. Heck, most of Jekyll’s clients had stories like that. However, it was nice to finally meet someone with that energy, and still alive. At least, it was nice for Jekyll.

The voice didn’t seem happy. Disgusting. Let’s kill her.

“Shut up,” Jekyll’s face soured as she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t say anything,” Kuvira responded, laughing while messing with her hair.

“Oh no, I wasn’t saying that to you, I apologize,” Jekyll’s face turned red from embarrassment. “Just… voices in my head, haha-”

I have a name you know.

I could care less about your name, Jekyll responded.

Kuvira shrugged it off, smiling as if it was usual for her. “Just wanted to make sure! I know Vergilius has to tell me to shut up a lot because I ramble like, so much haha! So if I ever need to be quiet just let me know, okay?”

Jekyll returned her focus to Kuvira. “I don’t think you need to shut up, I would very much like to listen. Preferably, to the answers to some questions I had?”

“Oh of course!” Kuvira smiled. “I mean, the speech mainly said to give questions to Dante and Jatayu, but I can do my best to assist! What questions do you have, my dear?”

Jekyll could not get her face to stop turning red, she was not used to this type of friendship and excitement shown to her. “Uhm- uh, f-firstly, I was curious if uh… Have you all been here since LCB-1? How long ago was that?”

“Oh! Well, I believe Vergilius, Charon the bus driver, and Dante have all been here since LCB-1, Jatayu joined with LCB-2, and I joined midway through LCB-2. It’s been great for most, haha.”

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. “What about Faust?”

“Oh, Faust! You probably met her, yes! She was part of the LCB-1, and I believe she still is around as a manager of sorts! She doesn’t work directly with us as much anymore. She has better things to do, anyway!”

“Right, okay,” Jekyll nodded, taking a mental note. “Is… Vergilius, well, does he kill all of us commonly?”

“Oh no,” Kuvira glanced over her shoulder at the Red Gaze. “Absolutely not, he mainly gives consultations to the sinners who misbehave or are breaking their contracts. He tries not to kill them when it happens. Why do you ask?”

“There was an incident at the front of the bus after you left, where…” Jekyll shuddered at the thought. “Mark imploded on the spot, and Othello got his arms ripped off after they started to quarrel.”

Kuvira sighed. “Ahh, yeah, that might happen for a bit. Every team is bound to quarrel over something sooner or later, but eventually things work out, so I’ve been told.”

“You mean, this is normal?”

“Yeah, of some sort.” Kuvira shrugged. “After death is no longer in the equation, people get initially violent over disagreements before slowing down. Things settle down after a while. LCB-1 and LCB-2 had that as well, don’t worry.” Kuvira tilted her head as she looked slightly down to meet Jekyll’s eyes. “Which sinners are Mark and Othello again?”

Jekyll tilted her head and pointed in the direction Othello was heading. “That’s Othello, and Mark… is the one with the blonde shaggy hair.”

“Gotcha, I will need to learn names eventually, haha!” Kuvira smiled sweetly before glancing over toward Mallo, who had just entered the room. “And she is?”

“Mallo, if I remember correctly,” Jekyll mimicked Kuvira’s smile. “And over there is Pen.”

“Gotcha, thank you!” Kuvira gave a soft nod toward Jekyll. “I appreciate the information, I will make sure it goes to good use!”

“One more question, Kuvira,” Jekyll’s smile faded as she clasped her hands together. The mere thought of asking seemed like a burden, and the voice did not like it.

I swear if you take one of those things again, I will lash out-

“Of course! Anything!” Kuvira smiled.

“Do… Does this workplace provide moonstones to keep our sanity levels the same?” Jekyll asked her visible eye twitching. “It seems our line of work will tamper with our sanity, quite a bit… I wanted to ask if the company had spare moonstones so our sanity can remain fixed.”

“Oh! M Corp’s singularity,” Kuvira nodded, looking up at the ceiling to think. “Hmm, I don’t know of any moonstones in our possession, perhaps I can ask Vergilius for you, if you wish. I do know that sanity rises and falls when people use EGO, whether or not it's their personal one or ones from a…” Kuvira pauses, clearing her throat. “Abnormalities, so I do know that sanity rising and falling is a key part of the job, but I can see if the company has a moonstone for you. I don’t know if it would be allowed though.”

Jekyll cursed in her head as the voice laughed with glee. No stability mentally? How was she going to keep sane?

HAHA! Oh, how perfect.

“But hey,” Kuvira rested a hand on Jekyll’s shoulder. “If you ever need anything from me, to keep mentally sane or just need someone to talk to, I’m your gal, alright? I’m here for you.”

Jekyll nodded in thanks toward the assistant. “I appreciate you, really. I will… take you up on that sometime, perhaps later, closer to the morning.”

Kuvira opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut as Vergilius announced the voting process to fight some ordeals in the gauntlet. She smirked, “Hey, go for the crimson ordeals, I heard they’re better than the amber ones.”

Jekyll smiled and said her farewell before walking over toward the menu. She did her best to give Mallo space, but they shared proximity as she came closer to view the options.

Mallo glanced over with a fierce glance at Jekyll. Jekyll met eye contact and started talking without realizing it. “So, have you heard of ordeals before?”

Mallo’s gaze softened. “Yeah. I've heard of 'em. Nasty things from L Corp. Disgusting things that show up to cause chaos.” She inhaled a large breath from her cigarette and stood up straight, letting it out.

Jekyll clasped her hands together nervously. It was the first time she heard Mallo speak more than one word. Her voice was quite pleasant. “Ahh... lovely, are they hard to kill?”

Mallo explained how the worms move around and jump, using flavorful curse words to describe them. She elaborated on how they make abnormalities breach and how they explode when killed but reassured it was more annoying than deadly.

Jekyll nodded and cast her lot. The current votes were two to one, with crimson ordeals being in the lead. She stepped back, sighing. She would have to wait for the others to arrive before actual combat began. She wished not to fight, but it was the job she signed up for. A shudder ran through her spine, she knew what was about to happen. Oh, how wrong you were about this company, Jekyll.

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