#and then you know i came on here and was immediately assaulted by the colonial violence of settlers saying vote yes to be included

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Oh. Fuck. The other thing that was really getting me while writing a report for the cognitive assessment I did for a kid client is that all the fucking pages I found on therapy blogs or sites recommending games for kids to improve skills in various areas were all fucking just full of Amazon product links and 'this post contains affiliate links' disclaimers. Capitalist therapy hell.

[gepgep2]

But I decided to become an anthropologist and I ended up going to Madagascar for one reason or another, and through sheer coincidence kind of, I stumbled into a place where the state had in fact disappeared. I was living in an anarchist society. But the fascinating thing is it took me a while to figure it out. People didn't warn me at first.

So I went off and I was in a small town but, the town was like an hour's drive out of the capital. It's hardly like out in the boonies anywhere and there was government offices, there were people in the government offices typing things, there was a police station, various other state facilities, so it would seem obvious there was a government here. But as time went on I realized there was something kinda weird going on here. Actually I think what gave it away is I heard the story about this guy named Enri, he was this enormous scary guy who was either insane or pretending to be insane. People seemed to have mixed opinions on this one. But all agreed that he was terrible- he's violent, he'd beat people up, sexual assault, steal things. So eventually people thought something needed to be done about this guy, and this is the town of 10,000 people right. And as I learned, there seems to be this basic principle in Madagascar that if you want to lynch someone you have to get their parents permission first. If you think about it, it makes sure it really doesn't happen very often. And if it does, there's probably a very good reason.

Basically it's a way of ensuring that like, your dad or your mom can go up to you and say 'Look, you really need to clean up your act- I don't know how much longer I can front for you here.'

So after about three tries his father said 'To hell with it. You're right, the guy's crazy.' They came at him with agricultural implements, he was injured and immediately ran into the local Catholic Church and demanded sanctuary- said 'Help! Help! I'm being persecuted because I'm mentally ill.' The priest eventually loaded him in the back of a van and took him off to a insane asylum, where they kicked him out three days later for beating up the other patients, but he never came back so it kinda worked out.

Be this as it may, when I was hearing this story I was thinking 'Wait a minute... there's like a police station right over there. Why didn't they do something about it?'

They were like 'Yeah, but have you seen Enri? He's enormous! They don't wanna fight him.'

'They have guns!'

'But they're not gonna shoot him, I mean come on.'

So there was this idea that it really wasn't any of their business. Eventually I figured out the police basically were there to keep the highway open. And they wouldn't go off the paved road. So what this meant is like, unless you're actually in the town itself, first of all nobody was paying any taxes, police would not come. Even in the town they wouldn't do much. But the fascinating thing was they set it up in such a way that you wouldn't know until you've lived there for a while that there was no state operative in this area. Because there are people who seem to work for the government. Later I learned that they weren't really being paid and they even had to buy their own paper to fill out forms because the government was basically providing nothing. But they were keeping up appearances.

There's a sort of traditional mode of resistance, I mean Malagasy are masters of passive resistance. Under the French colonial period for example they were trying this sort of thing. the basic approach is like, if somebody shows up and wants you to do something you really don't want to do, the first line of defense is: be nice to them, give them coffee, agree with everything they say, when they go away pretend the incident never happened. 'What? What guy? No, nobody came through telling us anything.'

And there's layer on layer of defenses these guys have developed. and it didn't work that well under the French, suddenly when the French government went away it was working better and better. The IMF was basically cutting the budget. They just simply cut police to the rural area, they figured people are running their own affairs anyway. They werent getting any taxes out out of them to speak of even before that. What eventually happens is the government effectively dissolved but they were still playing this game: this sort of like, tacit deal- we will never embarrass you, and make you feel like you're an important person who has authority, as long as you don't actually try to exercise it in any way. So everybody was playing along with this illusion of a state that didn't actually exist.

So it was an interesting test case in a lot of ways, in fact I find it a very compelling argument to use for people. Again one of the most common arguments against anarchism is that, well you can't get rid of police because people will just start killing each other. Just considered self-evident. No evidence needs to be produced. Well, actually no. This can be empirically tested and that doesn't happen. There was a case- police went away and nobody killed each other, any more than they did before, which isn't very much. And I think there's many places in the world like this by the way, where states have disappeared but we don't know because sometimes, if you are a rebel, you realize that the stupidest thing you could possibly do would be to put up a flag and say 'Hahaha! I am a rebel! We are autonomous now!'

For every case like Somalia which you hear about because there's violence, there's probably a dozen like Madagascar where nobody even knows.

It makes you think. What is it about living under a state, under someone else's authority, under the constant threat of violence if you break the rules, that actually causes behavior that makes it seem self-evident that people would behave violently if there wasn't such structures? Because in fact, if there aren't such structures, that's not how [people] act.

So there I was in Madagascar. I come back, I get a job teaching at Yale. one day I walk out of class and there's a newspaper box that says martial law declared in Seattle. And soon enough I discovered that the sort of social movement that I'd always kind of wished would exist, but didn't, actually had formed during the time that I wasn't paying attention. My immediate reaction is like great, where do I join?

So I got involved in the direct action network in New York and there are two things that really surprised me and which I've been trying to think about how to deal with ever since.

People were trying to develop this model of consensus-based direct democracy which although we identify it with the anarchist tradition, comes out of feminism just as much or more. Anarchists really adopted it because it's the type of process that could work in a society without coercive enforcement of decisions.

And it was a wonderful thing for me, but I suddenly realized that, that is what people were doing, that's how decisions had traditionally been made in Madagascar for thousand years probably.

And one reason I hadn't been completely able to understand what I was seeing when people did that at the time was, it was so natural to people that nobody really talked about it. It was just the way you do things. Whereas Americans even though we thought we live in a democratic society, how many of us have really had any experience sitting down with a whole bunch of people making a collective decision on an egalitarian basis? Maybe when we're ordering pizza.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t1Icrh7S9l8

[silverchangeling]

"You know-" The demon smiled nervously at the second son and the two priests flanking him "my way seeing of the world- my morality- is not unlike yours. I think we should approach these things with mutual respect-"

"Silence, you insolent oath-breaker." The second son was having none of the demon man-woman-thing's tricks. "You broke our contract."

"Broke? The contract?" The demon laughed politely as they took their handkerchief out to clear some sweat from their brow. "Whatever could you mean?"

The second son took out some glowing parchment. "In return for freeing your uh... siblings? you agreed to sabotage this castle and not aid the royal bloodline of Northchester. And yet, the Northchester Prince has miraculously evaded capture. Summoned allies. Then they together are preparing to march against us."

The second made a signal to the two priests as he continued. "Our seers have confirmed our suspicion. You are a traitor. And even your kin now run free, your life will serve as a default."

The priests wielded their holy implements. There was nowhere to run in the small room.

"No third parties shall mediate the Contract." With the demon's command, shimmering shadows leapt from the parchment unto the two priests. They both froze, as if stuck in time. The second son gulped.

The demon grinned, this time toothily, "Too bad- the contract has been unbroken and it's magic is quite alive. Well, until you broke it just now with your little assault on my life. Heh."

Realization set over the second son. The first son was far away- he must have known something was off.

The demon laughed, haughtily and fully, "Let me spell it out for you. There is no bloodline Prince of Northchester- both because she's an adopted orphan and she's a princess. And barely a princess at that- she's more interested in returning the land to its people and their ancient ways~" the demon tucked their handkerchief into their chest, "I happen to be quite fond of her. My protection of her has been irrelevant to the contract."

"Anyway- since you so rudely broke our agreement- I'll have to exact penalty-" The demon declared. With a snap of their finger, the contract glowed, and something ethereal yet important was removed from the second son.

"Let me repeat myself-" the demon continued, "I'm quite the agreeable person- if you and your cunning siblings were content to chop up and backstab other church nobles, I wouldn't care less. But seize and strengthen the colony in Northchester? And then you threaten my siblings to force me to help you?" The demon spat on the carpet "Well, lets say I don't have many polite words for you."

The demon looked at the ghostly thing yanked from within the second son. "Well, allow me write your destiny for you. You forget our meeting this day. Your more clever siblings abandon you here. You rule here as an unpopular despot for a month at most. You die- swiftly and pathetically- at the hands of the Northchester people."

The immaterial something moved back into the second son, and he immediately passed out. When he came to, neither him nor the priests were sure what they doing in this room to begin with.

[arwenkenobi48]

The PDF That Saved My Life - Why I Love “All Tomorrows” With All My Heart

(Content Warning: Discussions of trauma, suicidal ideation and sexual abuse)

*clears throat* So, as some of you may be aware, the past few weeks haven’t been easy, not in the least. I was struggling with serious suicidal urges and feeling extreme anguish towards my own body and soul. I believed myself to be tainted, filthy and all manner of destructive and negative things.

The reason behind this breakdown was due to the realisation that I had experienced sexual harassment and assault multiple times throughout my life, including an occasion last year in which I was groped by an immediate relative. I had been aware of the incident since it happened, but was in denial. I was thinking “It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” But after trying unsuccessfully to repress it, I had to face the facts that she did what she did. I was heartbroken and I’m still deeply saddened by the realisation. Everything just seemed to fall apart and I psychologically imploded, plummeting into a dark pit of worthlessness and childlike sorrow. I felt as if I had been thrown into a mental oubliette; just tossed away and forgotten about on every level. Whenever I wasn’t bawling my eyes out and grieving my lost innocence, I was stress-eating and lying in bed, feeling nothing. Every now and then, I’d receive a short burst of energy, but nothing substantial, and the feelings remained.

Despite all of that, though, I didn’t want to die. A small part of my mind wanted to hold on and ride out these waves of suicidal thoughts. But I also knew I shouldn’t have to be going through this cycle of building up and breaking down, so I finally managed to seek professional help. There’s another thing that also pushed me towards seeking help and eventually guided me out of this dark place, and that’s the work of science fiction I mentioned in the title. All Tomorrows by C. M. Koseman (I hope I’ve spelled that right).

I don’t remember exactly how I came across it, but I think it was the video by Alt Shift X on YouTube that did it. As you can imagine, my dark thoughts weren’t only directed towards myself, but the world at large. I was wondering how life could be so cruel as to let something so horrific happen to me. I saw the thumbnail of that video and I didn’t know what it was. I had vaguely heard of All Tomorrows, but was more familiar with the much more nihilistic Dougal Dixon book Man After Man, and as such I got the two confused. I clicked on the All Tomorrows video, barely paying much attention and dismissively thinking: “oh great another sci-fi dystopia that predicted humanity’s inevitable downfall”.

What that video showed me absolutely blew my mind. As I discovered C. M. Koseman’s intricate worldbuilding science fiction project, I became fascinated and enthralled by the journeys and evolutions of the various post-human species, from the fun-loving Satyriacs and the mellowed out Snake People, to the bloodthirsty Killer Folk and the horrifying Bone Crushers. Yes, many of the stories were very, very sad. The Mantelopes lost everything and devolved because intelligence was so painful. The Striders, Titans and Temptors were all wiped out before they had the chance to truly reach their full potential. The Qu and Gravitals, one could say, ruined everything. But what truly amazed me was the fact that many, many of these stories also contained great happiness.

The Colonials, for example, suffered through the kind of torture that I wouldn’t wish on the Devil himself. Being wedged together into a wall of flesh bricks, all while retaining intelligence. And yet, they managed to turn into the beautiful Modular People and create a utopian society. Yes, the Killer Folk are traditionally violent, but the ones that made the biggest progress were the ones that chose peace over war. The Satyriacs started off as the mindless Hedonists, but were able to use their intelligence to appreciate every moment of their joyful lives. The lowly Worms became the comfort-loving Snake People, always able to appreciate the little things in life. The flattened Lopsiders rose up from the ground and became the proud, tall Asymmetric People. The list goes on, but you get my point.

The point is, even though this future humanity went through the sort of Hell that makes the past few years look tame by comparison, they always managed to rise up. Sure, nothing was ever quite the same again, but they managed to make something new and wonderful out of that. When you cut an orange, you may not have a whole fruit anymore, but you have lots of slices that can be shared with everyone. The best thing you can do is move forward. The future will always hold something better for you, even if that seems impossible. Don’t be afraid to reach for it. The final quote of this incredible piece of sci-fi wiped away the remnants of dark still clinging to me: “Love today and seize all tomorrows.” To me, that meant “Be a kind soul and you can achieve anything.”

This entire story ignited a strong feeling of empathy within me; an emotion I thought I was too traumatised to ever properly feel or express again. I think that was the point. Sure, the many strange post-humans may not look like us, but we cannot deny that they are human and that brings out the best in us. We shouldn’t be afraid to show empathy for our fellow humans. Thinking lowly of what collectively proves to be our best quality, claiming we’re “above” it and aiming to become “bigger than” everything else deprives us of our humanity. Empathy, compassion, love, that’s what makes us truly powerful. If we can learn to love today, the utopian future we all dream of will finally be ours.

Love is something that, from an early age and for over half my life, I was never truly given. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give it to others. Just as the post-humans were able to move forward and rise from the ashes, I fully intend to do the same. I’m safe now. The people who hurt me are gone from my life and will never hurt me again. I’m surrounded by loving friends, in a city I love, attending a university I love, receiving the therapy I need to heal and soon to be medically transitioning too. Even though I still struggle to accept it, I’m learning to love myself as well. I think that’s the greatest love someone can ever feel. If I continue to love each today that comes, all the tomorrows will be brighter and brighter.

And to think this all started because of a PDF about the hypothetical future of humanity. I’m determined to hold on no matter what. Idk if C. M. Koseman uses tumblr or any other social media for that matter, but if he comes across this somehow, I just want to say “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here today without All Tomorrows.”

https://youtu.be/-WIk29qtrIo

(PS: I know I have stumbled and made mistakes on my platform as well. I’m still a little bit unsteady after being in such a dark mental state for so long. I’m sorry about that. I am doing better. Thank you all if you made it this far. I love and appreciate every single one of you.)

[human-do-a-worm]

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 1/?

The young Unkall child approached the scruffy looking Terran sitting outside the library reading from a data tablet.

“Hey, you’re a Terran, aren’t you”

“Sure am, kid.“

“I have a report on Terran history, do you know any good events I could use?”

“Maybe, but you’d just be listening to an old soldier ranting about the things he’s seen.”

“I wouldn’t mind listening if you have the time to talk, sir.”

“Alright then, I’ll tell you the story from my most important battle in the Terran-Vrumoid war.”

“Would you mind if I record it? I might need to go back over some details once I get to writing my paper.”

“Not at all kid, now sit back and get comfy, ‘cause this story’s a long one.”

“This story comes from a time when hope was lost. When the Vrumoids threatened to wipe out humanity, as impossible as that seems now. It was over 20 cycles ago that humanity was pushed back to their home system. Everyone knew that the crafty Terrans would become even more determined now, and so the Vrumoids sent the largest fleet they had ever assembled. Unfortunately for them, they had never truly seen humanity at its darkest times, and simply expected the Terrans to be a bit stronger. They were wrong.”

“The Vrumoids had studied the task ahead of them well, and were considering places to launch their first strike on the Terran home system. Europa held no direct strategic importance, it could simply be blockaded. Venus and Mercury would prove too difficult, as the fleet would have to pass beyond Terra itself to even get in striking distance. Uranus and its moons were too sparsely populated to mount an effective civilian resistance, and held nothing but a communications pose which could be simply destroyed with an orbital strike. Eventually, the Vrumoid armada settled on Mars. It had a decent military presence, as well as a significant civilian population. An attack there would surely force the Terrans to surrencer. The planet was well terraformed, and would prove to be a fine colony to the ever growing empire.”

“Unfortunately for them however, they were not fast enough to block the warnings from Uranus, and the people knew what lay ahead. All children and anyone who would not fight if need be was evacuated to Terra. Those who could manned the dense turrets or took to the skies, those who couldn’t prepared the planet for total war. The final preparations made was the commandeering of all PA and speaker systems on the planet to be controlled from the central command bunker hundreds of meters under the ground. With that completed, the bunker doors were sealed from the inside, and reinforced with sandbags and debris at every doorway. Mars was as prepared as it could be.”

“When the Vrumoid armada entered orbit, they were immediately set upon by ships of all sizes; bombers, fighters, interceptors, frigates, light cruisers, and even civilian ships, filled with boarding parties hoping to enter through a gash in a Vrumoid ship. Though ultimately a failure at destroying the fleet, those brave souls accomplished their task, and forced their enemy to descend on to the surface. The fighting was fierce. Farmers mined their fields, factory workers planted explosive charges on their warehouses, and each city had to be taken building by building, room by room. This was not a matter of win or lose, the Terrans had already known that victory was not likely. This was to make the Vrumoids pay for every inch of ground with blood, and lots of it.”

“For the first two months, the battle seemed to be a stalemate, until a clever group of Vrumoid engineers figured out how to remove some of the smaller guns from their ships and mount them to vehicles. Then the tide began to shift. First one city fell, then another, and another after that. Seeing no more need to keep their ships docked on the planet, the fleet command pulled their ships into orbit once more.”

“Eventually, the Terrans had but one stronghold left; the citadel of steel. A massive structure with anti-aircraft High Energy Laser cannons mounted atop it, and guns at every possible avenue of approach. As the now aptly named “Terra’s Doom” cannons were brought to bear on the fortress, the planet suddenly came alive. All across the planet, a single voice could be heard.”

“People of Mars. The enemy has pushed us back to the final bastion of safety on this planet. We are now forced to show our hand. Strike fierce brothers and sinister. Fight for your species, for your friends, for your family. Fight with no mercy, no respite, and no weakness. Now is our chance to show them one last display of what it means to be human. Let the sound of glorious battle fill your hearts, and don’t let our enemies rest for even a second.”

“With that, suddenly, deafening music poured across the planet. It was simple, composed of only a few instruments and played by those of talent among the commanders who were of best use at the command screen rather than on the front lines, but with each power filled note, a city on the planet came to life, from the buildings where the Vrumoid army had not bothered to check the dead, or not bothered to search every building. In but a few measures, the Vrumoid fleet command was in awe, as all across the planet, thousands of units went silent. Finally, the song ended, and Fleet command breathed a sigh of relief, but as quickly as the last song ended, another soon started.”

“Brothers, sisters, friends one and all”

“Come, gather round, and heed my call”

“Our foes draw closer, but hope is not lost”

“We’ll hold this red rock no matter the cost” “They think themselves mighty, they think themselves strong”

“But they’ll not be thinking that way for too long”

“For our people have rallied, together we fight”

“And we will not softly fade into the night” “For our cities may fall, and our walls they may rend”

“But my friends we are very far off from the end.”

“With those words echoing in their hearts, the doors of the citadel fell into their emergency holds, dropping out of the way. Thousands of Terrans, on vehicles from armored transports and tanks, to motorcycles charged the last Vrumoid battalion on the planet. The charging Terrans all knew that this was their chance. This was their final opportunity to make the Vrumoids regret ever attacking humanity. The stampede split neatly into two, surrounding the Vrumoid soldiers. No matter how many they picked off from the horde, it was not enough.”

“The first to strike were the armored vehicles designed for military use. Though they could not hope to penetrate the thick armor of their opponents, they targeted their wheels and treads, forcing the Vrumoids to simply sit and wait for what was to come, though they wouldn't have to wait very long. The riders broke off from the circling swarm, and after forming a smaller circle inside the perimeter, charged in a single line straight towards the three Terra’s Doom tanks. As the riders drew closer, the Vrumoids could clearly see that these riders were charging them with what appeared to be nothing more than simple spears. It wasn’t until the first rider drew near and the tank shook did the crew inside realise that they were doomed. Those were not spears, they were pole mines, and each one was slowly but surely chipping away at a piece of their hull.”

“The riders then finished their assault, and retreated back to the safety of the horde, which then quickly dispersed. Thinking this to be the end of the attack, the crew laughed. One of them got out of their Terra’s Doom and looked at the citadel, before quickly scuttling back inside. From the gate of the citadel came a loud rumbling. When the others looked to see what frightened their comrade, they all panicked. Four large tanks came from the gates, carrying on top of them the HEL cannons formerly mounted on top of the citadel. One by one, the HEL cannons powered up, and one by one, the Terra’s Doom tanks were destroyed.”

“Shocked by how quickly what was shaping up to be a pyrrhic victory became an even costlier defeat, the remaining Vrumoid fleet jumped the system and headed home. And that was how the war shifted, from a simple matter of planting a small fleet on a planet and killing anyone who resisted, to getting as far away from Terrans as the Vrumoids could manage.”

“Well, I think I’ve talked enough for one day. See if you can get what you need out of what I’ve said. If you can’t then just come on by the same time tomorrow, I usually come out here to relax and read the news from home.”

“Thanks for helping me out mister.”

“Don’t worry about it kid, be safe.”

With that, the Unkall child went home to begin his work.

[lifeofyellowpearl]

Yellow Pearl Goes Over Old Files: The Diversion Agreement

Of the hundreds of files present on my holo-screen, my eyes fixed upon yet another of personal significance. Its personal meaning, found not within its content but within my experience surrounding the controversy brought upon by its abrupt inception. It is suspected, though seldom acknowledged, that the current resource crisis, which has come to define Era 2, had long been foreseen by White Diamond. And that in its earliest beginnings, the eldest ruler had begun making turns for redistribution of resources as well as redelegation of personnel. It is doubtless to me, with that in mind, that it was her surreptitious need for redelegation which prompted White to do what she did. Though I had heard whispers of Pink Diamond’s violent tendencies, I had never seen first-hand the full extent of her rage. That is, never until that fateful day.

I still had the duty of serving Pink Diamond as her temporary pearl since White Diamond had yet to provide a suitable replacement for the one she seized from the neophyte ruler. We had just returned to the moon base from a particularly clamorous meeting over which Pink was still fuming. Much to Pink’s greatest annoyance, White had made the unilateral decision to divert 10,000 Lapis Lazuli away from the construction of Pink’s colony. To the end that they may be redelegated to other projects throughout White’s Jurisdiction.

To make such a call without even bothering to alert - let alone consult with - Pink Diamond was not only a measure yet unheard of but a gesture of great disrespect. That White Diamond had violated the very protocol she, herself, ratified in making such a discourteous move infuriated Pink all the more. When word of this reached the young diamond, an emergency meeting was convened at which even Blue and Yellow Diamond expressed marked shock and discontent at White’s thoughtless action. And so, to placate her peers, White Diamond agreed that the order for redelegation would be - hastily - rewritten into a “mutual agreement” between White and Pink, requiring the signatures of both parties. Pink was not happy with this arrangement - especially considering that the gesture was all but purely symbolic. But, at the very least, she would be allowed to retain the Lapis Lazuli of terraform company 16. A company comprised of some of the finest that Homeworld has to offer. Pink also managed, after throwing a tantrum presenting her arguments, to secure the promise that White would no longer make attempts to divert resources away from Pink’s colony. These admittedly meager concessions were enough to earn Pink Diamond’s signature - albeit after some gentle convincing from Blue Diamond. But alas, it was not enough to quell Pink’s fury over the entire affair.

And so, for the very first time, there at the Earth Colony moon base, I was able to bear witness to one of the emotional blowouts for which the Pink Diamond was infamous. “I can’t believe her! Why would she do that! Why would she think I’d be okay with this??” Pink angrily paced, following no strict path or predictable direction, as she continued her tirade over what White had tried to do, “Oh but of course when I break the rules, it’s this huge goodman deal, but when she does it, it’s perfectly fine?? What even is that?? How is that FAIR?? I just… I can’t even….GAAAAAA!!!!”

I watched on as Pink, lost in the whirlwinds of her own rage, marched over to one of the glass panes of the base’s dome; upon which she took out her frustrations with a steady cascade of thunderous strikes. With every punch that Pink brought against the glass, I swear the moon itself trembled as though its very surface were jolted by the force of one thousand nuclear blasts! Truly it was a terrifying sight! As the rhythmic assault continued on, cracks in the pane began to appear, spread, and multiply; stoking mental imagery of potential disaster in which we are depressurized from the base as a result of the pane’s shattering.

Even more frightening were recollections of the injury sustained by Pink Diamond’s erstwhile pearl. An injury the poor gem was loath to discuss, as talks of its causation were a source of nothing but great anxiety and anguish for Pink’s loyal servant. Nevertheless, I had my suspicions of what - that is to say ‘who’ - caused that unfortunate pearl’s trauma. And seeing Pink Diamond now, in this truly horrific state, served to confirm my suspicions were correct. With this in mind, I was certain to maintain my distance and allot Pink the time she needed to fully release her anger. I did my best to remain at attention, in spite of the full-body tremors brought upon by the terror I was feeling at that moment. 

As time went on, the frequency of her pulsating strikes began to decrease. Until, at last, her onslaught came to an end and the final echoes of her thunderous rapping gave way to the default silence of this desolate place. The silence, however, did little to ease my nerves. For Pink Diamond now stood rigid and sullen with balled fists down at her sides, mumbling expletives through gritted teeth. Pink’s titanic fury had not died. It had only moved inward; barely concealing itself just beneath the surface of her inner gem. To this very day, I can still safely declare that at that moment, I was more frightened than I had ever been before or since.

My thoughts wandered back to Pink’s former pearl as many of her idiosyncrasies began to make sense to me. The ease with which she startled, the frequent hand tremors, and, most telling of all, her occasional hesitation in returning to her diamond’s side when summoned back from the pearl chamber. “I do hope her elders didn’t upset her too much.” I once heard her say. What I initially thought to be a statement of selfless concern, I now recognize to have been an expression of self-preserving fear. Indeed, that pearl had seen, known, and personally experienced, the truest extent of Pink Diamonds capabilities.

All of this, I was contemplating when my thoughts were interrupted by the tone of an incoming message. Still on edge, I fumbled with my holo-screen until I was finally able to answer the call. A Lapis Lazuli appeared on my screen. It was then commander of Terraform company 16, 528’s predecessor. I don’t remember her facet or her cabochon, and due to the circumstances leading to her unfortunate stranding on that doleful planet, such identifying information was blacked out on any and all files in which she is mentioned. I struggled to gather myself, “This is the Yellow -Er - White…” I had to pause and take a breath, “Sorry. This is the Pink Diamond control room.”

“Yeah, hey...” The Commander replied with an air of mild vexation, “I’m calling about the proposal my company sent to Pink Diamond?”

“Proposal? Which one?”

The commander nearly rolled her eyes. But she knew better than to let slip such an expression of disrespect when speaking of a diamond - unlike her loathsome colleague, 528. She did, however, sharply inhale before pursing her lips, I assume to prevent the quiet utterance of an expletive eager to escape her breath. “Uh, yeah. It was the proposal about a stretch of land that was originally reserved for the construction of a city. Peridots in my company have found that this land would be better suited for a kindergarten and that the city could be moved further north.” The Commander awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck “I eh...heh...I forwarded that proposal to Pink Diamond several weeks ago, and the city planner is really getting on my case.” Her nervous laughter did little to mask her exasperation.

I had to ponder for a moment before I remembered, “Oh yes, of course” I replied, “how could I forget such...wait, has Pink Diamond still not gotten back to you on that?”

“Nope.” The Commander’s frustration was still actively tempered but no less apparent, “Nope. Nope. Not at all. I mean, I get it. Pink Diamond’s busy but...I kinda need an answer so if you could just...”

“I’m sorry, but now’s not really a good time.” Of course now wasn’t a good time! Now was quite literally the worst possible time! I had no intention of disturbing Pink Diamond now. Not while she was in this horrible state. I’ll admit it, I was frustrated with Pink. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t help it. I had forwarded that proposal to her the moment I received it because I understood it’s importance. I marked it to be saved under her “high priority” tab and even let her know that the proposal was there, waiting for her reply. She acknowledged it but was so distracted by the images of “Earth’s beauty” - her words, certainly not mine - that it likely slipped her notoriously absent mind.

The Commander took another deep breath. I could already see that her forced politeness was dissipating, “Well, here’s the thing. The city planner is threatening to move forward and break ground, so I need an answer. Like...right now.”

“I understand, commander but with all due respect…”

“Please...don’t ‘with all due respect’ me. I have waited patiently for weeks, and I am running out of time. I need to know what to tell the city planner, and I need to know immediately.”

“Commander please, listen-”

“No, you listen…” I watched, over the course of our interaction, as The Commander’s demeanor change from a forced civility, to an abject annoyance, to a calm sternness, “When word gets back to the Diamond Authority that a city was built on top of a potential kindergarten without Pink Diamond’s knowledge, they’re going to be asking why she wasn’t made aware of that land’s viability before we went ahead with construction. They’re going to wonder why Pink Diamond wasn’t given a chance to make a final call. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

I sighed. I did understand. Someone would be held responsible for ultimately allowing tons of raw material to go to waste. That someone couldn’t be a diamond, and The Commander was making it clear that that someone wouldn’t be her. I could see it, now - stained on my record in bright red lettering, ‘Failure to forward vital information to her superior.’ Such an error would not be easily forgiven. The Commander wasn’t giving me a choice, “I understand.” I said, resigned, “I will remind Pink Diamond of your proposal, immediately.”

There was a sigh of relief followed by a brief moment of silence. The sternness with which The Commander addressed me had gone. Replaced by what appeared to be a twinge of remorseful understanding, “Look...I heard about what’s been going on, and I understand that Pink Diamond isn’t exactly in the best mood right now. But this shouldn’t cause too much of a fuss, right? All I need is ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ That’s it.”

“Yes...of course.”

“Thank you...good luck.” We both signed off with an unspoken understanding that this would not, in fact, be easy. But it was necessary. I turned to Pink, who was still facing the damaged pane, her back turned to me. Still seething. Still grumbling. Still ruminating. I began my approach slowly and methodically, so as not to startle the irate diamond. I could almost feel the ire radiating from her person as I got closer. Once directly behind her, I cleared my throat in an, albeit immature, attempt to grab Pink’s attention. It seemed to have worked as her head raised slightly. Yet, she did not turn to face me. I took a deep breath, mustering every ounce of courage that I had at my disposal, “Sorry to disturb you My Di-”

“Now now…” She growled those words with a quiet intensity that would send a chill down the back of even the most hardened quartz.

I truly wanted nothing more than to leave Pink Diamond be. Unfortunately, the situation obligated me to press further, “My Diamond, please. This is very impor-”

“I said, ‘not now’” again, I was shaken by her simmering inflection. But time was of the essence. I couldn’t let up.

And so, pushing aside the remainder of my apprehension, I made one final, more forceful, attempt, “My Diamond, I beg of you. We really need your…”

“SHUT UP!!!” In a single, rapid, fluid motion, Pink whipped around! For a fleeting second, I looked into the eyes of the frightful, raging diamond! Words could never describe that hateful look in her eyes! Much less the true extent of the fear it struck. But it was only for a second that I was able to catch a glimpse of that hideous gaze. For the very next second, I was off the ground! In the air! Ascending! Flying! Then falling!

I have no recollection of the moment I hit the floor. I can only recall the moment immediately thereafter. I was lying on my back, staring up into the heavens through the glass dome above. Only half-aware of what had just transpired. My ears were ringing. My mind was abuzz. I was all but deafened by the cacophony of voices of my now panicked inner-pearls. As the moment went by, the voices began to fade as my cruelest inner pearl regained her dominance over the rabble. Once I recovered the full extent of my faculties, I was able to hear her voice, loud and clear; just as biting and scornful as always. You stupid clod! You stupid idiot clod! You stupid worthless idiot piece of filth clod!! You just had to push her, didn’t you? This is what happens when you forget your place!! You’ve killed us! Do you understand? You’ve killed us!! You’ve killed us!!

‘You’ve killed us.’ Over and over that statement rang through my head until I was finally able to surmise it’s very grim, very literal meaning. Without looking, I placed my hand over my gem and shuttered internally when I felt the rapidly spreading cracks. In that moment, I thought of what I could have done differently. Of what I could have done better. I knew how Pink Diamond was. I knew how forgetful she was. I should have anticipated that the proposal would slip her mind. Why didn’t I remind her? Why didn’t I at least ask about its status? Why didn’t I try harder? Why didn’t I do more? I should have been more proactive! I should have been more tactful! I should have been more careful! There was little room for doubt. I was dying, and it was my fault. Stupid clod. I thought to myself, look what you made her do. Stupid...stupid clod. Though I knew that I was static, it felt as though my body were sinking, and it appeared as though the stars above were receding away, further into the ether. I felt that the heavens themselves were judging me, mocking me. And, of course, they were right to do so.

It wasn’t too much longer before I heard the rapid, approaching footsteps of a now panicked diamond. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Before long, Pink Diamond came into view. She knelt down over me, clasping her head in both of her hands with a look of frenzied concern. “OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!!!” In a gesture far outside the realms of social acceptability, Pink bent down and embraced me, cradling my head in her hands as she rocked back and forth, all the while hyperventilating. With my cheek now pressed against hers, I could feel the tears streaming down her face, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” No. This wasn’t right. A diamond should never find reason to apologize to a pearl. I wanted ever so badly to remind her that the fault was mine and mine alone! That it should be me apologizing to her! That I was the one to provoke her. And now, thanks to my worthless stupidity, I have caused even further distress! I wanted so much to tell her all of this, but I found myself, for reasons unspecified, yet unable to speak. 

Pink Diamond then pressed her face against my chest, sobbing into my gem, releasing my head to hang limp and allowing me another view of the stars above. There was no room for doubt. The heavens were indeed judging me. 

“I’m sorry!” Pink cried, “I’m so sorry!” as her tears made contact with my gem, I could feel the cracks disappearing and my body regaining its vigor. It was as though Pink’s tears had healed me of the very injuries she inflicted. I was then able to raise my head and see Pink, yet unaware of my rejuvenation, still crying into my gem. Making for a somewhat awkward situation.

“My...Diamond?” Pink pulled away, seeing that she had healed me. She embraced me again, now overjoyed. “Oh, thank the stars!” she exclaimed. She got up and helped me to my feet, “I am so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me! I was angry at the other diamonds and I just.” There she goes, again. I hated that she felt the need to apologize. Or, to be more accurate, I hated that I made her feel like she had to apologize. As if I didn’t feel terrible enough, what Pink said next still makes me cringe to this day, “Can you ever forgive me?” 

I bowed my head in absolute shame. That I had driven a diamond to the point of asking me, a pearl, for forgiveness was a misdeed that I could hardly bear. “There’s...nothing to forgive, My Diamond.” I whispered, “It was my fault. I’m the one who should be sorry...”

Silence. I didn’t dare look up at Pink, though I suspect she still felt guilty for what had transpired. Perhaps she wanted to say something to ease my distress. But there was nothing that she could have said. I am her pearl. The responsibility was, and always will be mine. 

I suspect it was her realization that nothing could be said to ease my feelings of shame and self-loathing, which prompted her to change the subject, “Um...right. So what was it that you needed?” 

In the frenzie, I had nearly forgotten. I, too, wanted nothing more than to put this conflict behind us. And so, I gathered myself and stood at attention to properly address Pink Diamond, “Oh...yes. Um, The Commander of Terraform Company 16 requested your response to a proposal. She had sent you. It was the…”

“Oh god! The proposal!” Pink exclaimed with a gasp. Pink brought up her holo-screen and anxiously scrolled through her inbox. “Gah! I can’t believe I forgot about that! Where was it? Where was it?”

“It should be at the top of your ‘high-priority’ tab, My Diamond” I said.

Following my suggestion, Pink found the proposal. “Oh! There it is! Now what was it…?” Pink tapered off as she went to sit on her throne, now fully engrossed in her current task. It seemed she had almost immediately forgotten about the preceding events. I went to take my place next to Pink Diamond. Standing at attention as she carried out her tasks. The rest of that day was largely uneventful, but that conflict would remain fresh in my mind. Amazingly, the same couldn’t have been said for Pink. For her, it really was though the whole thing never happened. 

As I observed this, I remembered something else Pink Diamond’s former pearl once said of her, “What I really admire about Pink Diamond is how quickly she’s able to forgive herself. She almost never dwells on her actions for long. Why, she hardly dwells on them at all! I sure wish I were like that!” ------

Author’s Note: Hey guys. Finally got around to posting another entry. Sorry about the delay but the truth is, I haven’t been doing well. Like...at all. Don’t wanna get into specifics but everything is kinda been falling apart, lol 😅. This may seem weird but if you don’t mind, I could use some words of encouragement if you get ‘em Anyway, here’s the Diversion Agreement. Making these documents has been surprisingly fun. They certainly make for a nice distraction, lol

[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter Eight (Zuko x Reader)

Part Seven

Word Count: 3,000

Warning: This chapter gets violent - there are mentions of death and assault. I'll include a recap at the beginning of next week's chapter for those who choose not to read for the sake of their mental wellbeing. No harm done in not reading; I appreciate you taking care of yourself ♥

Author’s Note: .......... yeah idk what happened either. oops there’s actually a plot here lmao

~ Muerta

Your tour of the city the following day is rained out by mid-morning, leaving you cozily stranded at the Jasmine Dragon until the weather decides to clear. Iroh gives you a private room to relax in while you wait, coming by every hour or so with a new menu item for you to sample. Since the weather is quite chilly, he’s converted the table in the room into a kotatsu, which you’re curled up under with Toph leaned comfortably against your shoulder. From where you sit, you have a perfect view of not only the street from the room’s window, but the rest of the tea shop, your gaze shifting between watching passerby avoiding the downpour outside and customers milling about inside, smiling to yourself each time you catch a glimpse of Zuko darting between tables; He insisted on working the rush that day, all of you changing out of your ceremonial robes and into something more low key so as not to attract attention.

Regular customers are happy to see Zuko, greeting him excitedly and asking how his “travels” have been; he nods over to you a few times while speaking, multiple people coming up to meet and congratulate you. Toph smirks at you, teasingly nudging your arm.

“I think you’re more popular as Lee from the tea shop’s wife than you are as Firelady,” she observes. “Not one person who’s come over here has said anything about the royalty sitting next to us.”

Kuei looks up from his reading, shrugging his shoulders as Bosco - whose head rests lazily in the king’s lap - lets out a grumbling yawn.

“I’m not meant to be noticed,” he states. “Besides, I come here all the time; regulars are used to seeing me here.”

“Are they also used to your guards taking up every table within twenty feet of you?” you joke. You’re only half kidding - plainclothes guards are stationed at three tables beside the room’s open door, all tensing up and ready to pounce every time anyone who isn’t Iroh or Zuko approaches.

Kuei grins sheepishly at you, offering another shrug.

“Not all of us are warriors,” he excuses.

“We need to teach you to fight,” Toph comments. “Having a scrawny Earth King is embarrassing.”

Before Kuei can retort, Zuko appears at the threshold, sliding the door shut behind him with urgency. Kuei stands immediately, instantly alert.

“The Dai Li were just spotted in the refugee district,” Zuko announces. “A customer told me they're staging some kind of protest.”

“Does it really count as a protest if they're facists?” Toph mutters. “Seems like the kind of thing they'd be opposed to.”

“A protest against what?” Kuei asks. “They don't typically operate so boldly.”

“I don't know,” Zuko answers, “but we should go there and stop it. They're too powerful for the regular guard to subdue.”

He turns to you, eyeing you sternly.

“Stay here,” he orders. “Toph and I will handle this.”

“Oh, the hell you will,” you quip, standing so abruptly that Toph tumbles over. “I've already told enough imperialist assholes that I don't answer to you - you shouldn't have to be one of them.”

Zuko shakes his head, ignoring your harsh comment.

“Darling, please, I'm not trying to boss you around,” he explains. “The Dai Li are dangerous and I want to keep you safe.”

“I'm not even safe in my own home, Zuko,” you counter. “We’re a team - we face danger together.”

You cross your arms, challenging Zuko with a determined, defiant glare. He sighs frustratedly, furrowing his brow but eventually giving in.

“Alright fine,” he caves. “We don't have time to argue. Let's go.”

You leave the Jasmine Dragon through a hidden panel in one of the private room’s walls, installed for just such occasions when Kuei needs to make a hasty exit; his guards are already assembled on the street, perched on ostrich horses with two steeds empty for the Firelord and king.

As Kuei mounts, you help Toph onto the back of his saddle, where she takes hold of your forearm and pulls you close so she can whisper in your ear.

“Did Sparky call you ‘darling' just now?” she marvels.

You blush, realizing that yes, he most definitely did.

“I think so,” you mumble in response.

Zuko calls for you and you part from her, noting the smirk that spreads across her features. You climb into the saddle behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as he digs a heel into the ostrich horse’s side, sending you speeding through the streets of Ba Sing Se; you hardly feel the rain biting at your cheeks and hands against the firmness of his back.

The refugee district scatters in chaos, people scampering like ants separated from their colony as they attempt to flee the terror the Dai Li have inflicted.

Agents prowl up and down the streets, raiding homes and businesses seemingly at random and interrogating their owners, many of them beaten or bound in stone cuffs. You ride past an agent looming over a man and his young children, his hand raised to strike; as you pass, you pull Zuko’s sheathed katana from its slot in the saddle, holding it out so it hits the agent in the throat and topples him, incapacitated; the man wails, tears streaming down his face as he lifts his children and carries them away from the scene.

You arrive at the source of the bedlam, where the heads of the Dai Li have gathered in a market square and bark out commands, taking prisoners and making displays of their battered, comatose bodies. Zuko reins the ostrich horse to a halt, leaping off before fully coming to a stop and removing his dual swords from the horse’s pack, strapping them onto his back. He hands you the reins, roughly taking your hands in his and leaning in close to you, shouting over the din.

“Can you ride?”

You nod as you settle yourself into the center of the saddle, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Go with Kuei and take out as many Dai Li as you can for the guard to arrest,” he tells you. “Toph and I will go for their leaders.”

He places both of his palms on either side of your face, bringing your head down so he can press his lips firmly against your forehead.

“Be careful,” he says in parting.

You kick into the ostrich horse’s side, turning back the direction you came and following Kuei through the streets, Zuko’s katana strapped at your hip.

Despite Toph’s teasing, Kuei is actually a skilled rider; though weaponless, he maneuvers his steed with ease, steering headlong into members of the Dai Li and trampling them, the beast lashing its long, razorlike talons until they fall unconscious. You ride close behind, sweeping the surrounding area whenever he overtakes a target and stunning anyone who tries to interfere, driving the edge of Zuko’s katana into their stomach or back; the only time you unsheath the blade is when you come upon an agent with a young girl pinned beneath him, her dress hiked above her hips and his body far too close to hers for your liking.

The image sends rage coursing like fire through your veins, and you remove the katana from its casing, riding up swiftly behind the man and drawing the blade across his neck, slitting his throat before he has a chance to react; his blood splatters across your legs and the face of the girl he attacked, causing her to shriek and crumple into tears. You reach down and lift her into the saddle behind you, riding her to the nearest area of relative safety you can find before returning to Kuei’s side.

“Is there anyone else?” you ask, looking around. Things seem to have calmed, the guard already arriving to take their prisoners and the citizens of the district starting to collect themselves, those not harrowed by shock either coming to the aid of their neighbors or starting to tidy the buildings that were raided.

Kuei shakes his head, panting heavily as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I passed the head of the guard a moment ago,” he tells you. “She said they have most of the situation under control - they're having trouble getting the leaders to surrender.”

“Let's go back,” you suggest. “We might be able to help.”

Kuei nods, trailing beside you as you gallop back to the market square, stumbling into a standoff between the Dai Li and the guard, Zuko and Toph in the middle of the fray - they have the leaders cornered, Toph having bent the earth around a few of them and Zuko with a flame ready in hand, one of his swords in the other. The scene is still but tense, and you sit with Zuko’s katana drawn.

“It’s your choice,” Zuko booms, approaching one of the captured Dai Li with predatory grace. “Either you come peacefully, or your entire troop will be killed.”

The bound man gives Zuko a wicked smirk, rolling his head to the side.

“Wouldn’t your father be proud,” he drones deeply. “His disgraced son, meddling where he doesn’t belong and threatening death when he can’t get his way - just like daddy. Even after you defeated him, you’re still seeking his approval, aren’t you Firelord Zuko?”

The man grunts as Toph’s fist closes, the rock around him compressing his chest.

“Watch it,” she snaps. “Zuko might be above squashing a slimy little roach like you, but I’m not - and he’s not the one who has you in a vice right now.”

“The Firelord is merely following Earth Kingdom law,” Kuei interjects. He rides into the center of the circle the guards and seized Dai Li have formed. “Dai Li have been considered highly dangerous by my guard since a child was found murdered in the catacombs under Lake Laogai preceding the end of the war; any members who resist arrest are sentenced to death once taken into custody. It’s your choice - be found responsible for the death of your men, or let them face fair trial.”

You don’t hear the man answer. One of the apprehended Dai Li nearby takes hold of the knife from the belt strap of the guard who holds him, stabbing her in the stomach to free himself; he makes a beeline for you, shoving his shoulder into your ostrich horse’s side and knocking you out of the saddle, sending you to the ground at his feet.

The Dai Li grips you by the hair, hoisting you up by the scalp and pressing his arm forcefully into your chest - the knife, still wet with blood, digs into your neck, so rigidly you feel a sting as its blade slices through the top layer of your skin. Zuko, who’d rushed forward the instant the man lashed out, pauses, his stature braced and eyes wide with terror. The Dai Li chuckles evilly, running a blood-soaked hand through your hair.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you Zuzu?” he mocks. “Let’s see if your no-killing rule applies when your pretty little plaything is up for grabs.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Zuko snarls. “You already face a death sentence just for touching her.”

“Then I might as well go out with a bang,” the Dai Li hisses.

You feel your skin start to split as the knife cuts deeper, and you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for your lungs to fill with blood.

Before the worst can come, a metallic snap cuts through the strained silence, the arm flattened to your chest going slack as the man it belongs to slumps into a heap beside you.

You fall to your knees, limbs quivering as a quiet, heaving sob escapes your chest. Zuko sprints to your side, scooping you into his arms and immediately taking you away, carrying you into the back of one of the guard’s wagons and ordering to return to the palace.

“Kill them all,” you hear Kuei gravely command as the cart rolls away. “None of them can be trusted in trial.”

You don’t realize it until you arrive at the infirmary, but you’re soaked. Healers strip you of your wet clothes and assess you for injuries, finding only a small laceration on your neck from where the Dai Li threatened you. They clean the wound thoroughly, draping you in a large blanket and serving you sweet, calming tea, keeping you there for a few hours before allowing you to return to your suite.

Rain streaks down the sitting room window in sheets as you ghost through the threshold, thanking the healer who escorted you in a whisper as she assuringly touches your shoulder, then shuts the door behind you.

Zuko stands from his place by the pane when he hears your voice, swallowing heavily as he watches you enter.

“What happened?” you rasp, blinking drearily.

Zuko approaches you slowly, gingerly lowering you into the nearest chair.

“Toph snapped the knife and shot the tip through the Dai Li’s forehead,” Zuko recounts. His voice is dark, roughened with gravel. “They’re all dead. There are more still out there, but their numbers are significantly less after today.”

You nod, your gaze directed away from him, eyes unfocused as you stare into nothing.

“The guard who was stabbed is okay,” Zuko continues, taking one of your hands and clasping it between his own. “She apologizes for letting her duties slip.”

You shake your head, pressing your eyes tightly closed as you try to force the image of the day’s events from your mind.

“She has no need to apologize,” you murmur. “I’m okay; she’s the one who got hurt.”

Zuko sighs softly, reaching up to rest his hand on your cheek.

“This is why I wanted you to stay with Iroh,” he chides. “You’re not trained to defend yourself. It’s too dangerous for you to go everywhere with me.”

You pull your face away from him. From the corner of your eye, you shoot him a glare.

“Don’t scold me,” you mutter. “I defended myself well enough.”

Zuko retracts his hand, leaning away as if you struck him. He lets out a frustrated huff.

“Seriously?” he quips. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“And so you could you,” you retort. “I’ve had a price on my head ever since I came to the Fire Nation; I don’t think I have to remind you that a man was murdered for the sake of making a threat towards us. Everyone’s after both of us, so we might as well stick together.”

“No,” Zuko snaps. “I won’t allow that. You’re my responsibility and I have to keep you safe.”

You jump to your feet, glowering down at him. He stands in return, taking a step back as your eyes meet his in a heated stare.

“You won’t allow that?” you challenge him. “What the fuck happened to treating me like an equal? You said in your damned wedding vows that you wanted to give me freedom. Did that only mean when it was convenient for you? You only want me as an ally when it looks good? Need I remind you that you were perfectly willing to let me ride out into battle when I was doing so under your command? You know that I’m capable of standing up for myself - I don’t need you playing savior whenever you think I can’t.”

“I’m not trying so suppress you,” Zuko counters. “I’m trying to make sure that the people who want us dead don’t actually achieve it. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you because you were following me. You need protection.”

“Zuko, I killed a man today.”

You make the statement plainly, in a deadpan, looking him directly in the eye. He pales, his face going completely ashen.

“What?”

“I killed someone today,” you repeat in a hiss. “Before today I’d never even held a weapon, let alone used one on another person; that didn’t stop me cutting a Dai Li’s neck open because he tried to rape a teenage girl in the street. I feel like a monster, Zuko, but don’t you dare tell me I need protection - what I need is your help. I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I need my husband.”

Zuko’s expression falls, your brows still arched together as you realize you’ve been shouting. You take a deep, shaky breath, crossing your arms and clutching the sleeves of your robe.

Zuko crosses the room to you, resting one of his hands behind your head; his other arm curls around your waist, pulling you in and pressing you flush against his chest.

You didn’t notice before, but your whole body is trembling, tears starting to pour down the sides of your face. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko breathes. “You’re right. We need to stick together. I just… I hate the idea of losing you. I… care… I care so much about you…”

You bury your face in his shoulder, your fingers knitting themselves into the fabric of his robe; the shock of the day finally hits you, and you feel as if you’ll crumble in his arms.

“I know,” you whimper. “I care about you, too.”

Zuko lifts you into his arms, cradling you like a child as he carries you into the bedroom. He lays down beside you, and for a while that could be minutes as much as it could be hours, he holds you, rocking you gently and rubbing your back as your body heaves with sobs, tears soaking your face the way the rain beats against the walls of your room. When you’re finally calm, he leaves only as long as it takes you to change into your night clothes, returning once you’re dressed and taking you into his arms again, comforting you as the sound of thunder trembles somewhere in the distance.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest, clutching him tightly through the night. You dream of nothing, and for that, you’re thankful.

📚 table of contents 📚

✨ join me on patreon ✨

{ subscribers: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @celamoon @omgwhattheeven @i-am-not-a-thot @fandomtrash1616 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @just-another-romantic @berkeliums @eridanuswave @oleander-in-the-wind @kinismanditory @lammello @peppermenty @theawesomefactor123 @loganrwebb @ijustwannabecanadian @a-hopeless-fan @softvv @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @pearl-stonecutter @crazy0t @commander-rex @kittyddandnyla @abbyarchie @smol-grandpa @nonbinary-rogers @themanwiththemetalarmsdoll @witchywrter @canibea-whore-yet @fuckwhateverfuck @eridanuswave @duh-dobrik @sum-stuff13 @whalerus }

[ragingbookdragon]

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked PT. 1

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,060 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Assault (Past & Present)

Author’s Note: I’m a dumb bitch who really can’t stop myself from starting new stories. Regardless, enjoy! -Thorne

“Tell me about the tavern we’re going to Charles.”

           The man looked to the Grandmaster with a smile. “Oh, I believe it’s called The Ethereal Crew Tavern.”

           Haytham cocked an eyebrow. “Quite an odd name for a colonial tavern.”

           “How so? Charles wondered, trying to understand the statement.

           “Most taverns this side of the Atlantic usually have humor in the name.” He glanced at the other Templars coming their way to the crossroads. “The Ethereal Crew almost sounds mystical.”

           “I’d never thought about that.” Charles remarked, and the Templars stopped to greet the larger group.

           “Evening Master Kenway.” The Irishman thrust a thumb back to the road. “Tavern’s just up the way here.”

           Haytham nodded, greeting the other Templars in the group before taking the lead, going into an easy conversation with them.

           The tavern came into sight, easily a two-floored building from the view. The cracked slate gray paint along the side reminded Haytham of the old boats that he saw dry docked when he was a child at Queen Anne’s Square. It made a bitter taste form in his mouth as he thought about his father and family. The borders of the doors and windows were painted with an onyx coat, and as they climbed the stairs, they caught sight of the sign next to the door. Someone had hand painted a crew of ghostly pirates standing behind a captain with swords and pistols raised. Haytham couldn’t help but huff quietly at the sign, hand curling around the handle to open it.

           They stepped inside and he was mildly surprised to see such a relative cleanliness within. Sure, there was a spill of ale here and there, but a certain level of neatness blanketed the place. His eyes drifted up the walls to the Jolly Roger flags hung up. Whether they’d been sewn and hung for decoration or were real flags, he didn’t know, but to hang them up so brazenly, the pub owner obviously didn’t fear reprimand. Haytham didn’t know if he should’ve praised them for their audacious bravery or sheer stupidity. Time would tell if he managed to meet the owner. A woman appeared in his peripheral from behind the counter.

           She offered a polite smile to them. “Good evening, gentlemen.” They tipped their heads in greeting. “You must be the group under,” her eyes drifted to the writing board she had in her hand, “Kenway?”

           Haytham nodded. “We are.”

           Her smile brightened and she tipped her head. “Fantastic! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the back!” She appeared from around the counter and started through a doorway, leaving them to follow.

           They entered into a backroom and Haytham was pleasantly surprised at how elegant it looked. Perhaps that was the wrong word—more refined in the piracy theme. She watched them take their seats before stepping between his and Thomas’s seat. “My name is (Y/N) and I’ll be handling your orders for tonight.” She gestured to the table. “The cards in front of you hold the items our tavern serves. The first page is the specials for the evening, the next page is the normal dishes.” (Y/N) gently turned the card in Haytham’s grip with a quiet, ‘excuse me.’ “And the back is the listing of our drinks. We serve alcoholic drinks as well as non, and we have quite a bigger selection than most taverns in the colonies.”

           “How do you manage that?” Shay piped up, obviously impressed.

           She smiled at him. “We have exclusive deals with many dealers and traders across the seas and lands. We also happen to brew some of our own liquors.” (Y/N) looked at them. “Can I start you off with drinks?” her eyes drifted to Haytham.

           He nodded. “I’ll take champagne.”

           “Shall I bring the bottle?” Haytham tipped his head. “Of course, sir.” Her eyes drifted to the Shay. “And for you?”

           “Take a pint of Guinness, lass.”

           (Y/N) quietly nodded, taking the rest of the orders, and with a quick of the quill into its holder, she said, “I’ll go get those ready. In the meantime, please decide what you’ll be eating for the evening.”

           Before she could leave, Thomas had an arm around her waist, and she froze. He gestured for her to lean over and when she did, Haytham watched her eyes go wide at whatever the man had whispered in her ear.

           She let out a laugh, but someone as well trained as he could tell it was one to hide the embarrassment she felt. She pulled from his grip and remarked, “Now sir, you should focus on dinner.” Thomas merely gave (Y/N) a salacious grin and Haytham watched her flee as inconspicuously as she could. His eyes narrowed on the man who didn’t seem to feel the weighted gaze, immediately going into conversation with Charles and William.

***

           Laughter echoed from behind the closed doors and (Y/N) sighed internally—partial tiredness, the other part infuriated. God, what I wouldn’t give for these bastards to go home already. Every time she’d gone into the room, that lecher Thomas had made some inappropriate comment or put his hands on her. She could feel the thread that held her patience fraying and it was about to snap.

           She needed the money this place provided though, and she slapped a smile on her face, stepping into the room. “My, my, it seems you’re all having a great time!” They raised their glasses in return save for the one at the head of the table. He’d removed his tricorn since (Y/N) had left. Her eyes rested on him for a few moments—he didn’t seem the type to drink in excess somewhere he didn’t feel secure. He was rather handsome in her opinion, dressed in clothes too sharp for any colonial man, personal care much too meticulous for one as well. He had a sharp jaw line, high cheekbones, a strong nose, and his dark brows made his steel eyes shine as if they were made of polished metal. Rather handsome, she finally decided, and much too dangerous for someone as skilled as her to ever take on in a fight.

           Eyeing the many weapons he carried, she wondered if perhaps he were apart of an elite group of soldiers, but she’d never heard of redcoats like that. The man’s foot shifted in a light tap, and she looked up, meeting his steely gaze—turns out all the time she’d been observing him, he’d been doing the same. Her cheeks warmed and she glanced the other way, wondering just how much he’d managed to size her up in mere moments they’d stared. “Well, I wonder if you’ve saved room for dessert?” Their attention was immediately drawn in and she couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve cakes, cookies, pies, any and all kinds you could want.”

           The men cheered around the table and Thomas leaned over, wrapping his arm back around her, though in his drunken haze, he slipped it under her rear, making her go statue like. “Say—how much—for your—dessert?” Most of the men laughed at that, but Shay and Haytham, who both wore looks of general disgust.

           (Y/N) wanted to laugh, but that thread had finally snapped and she grabbed hold of his hand and yanked it off her body, shoving him sideways in his seat; he collided with Charles who was sitting next to him, and before he could say anything, she was standing over him with a glower. “Listen and listen well, you fuck.” Her sudden use of an obscenity sobered everyone at the table. “I have spent the last three hours being sexually harassed by you and I’m done. I doubt a stupid bastard like you has ever heard of the word ‘consent’, so allow me to explain.”

           Thomas’s mouth opened and she raised a hand. “You say anything, and I’ll bash every one of your fucking teeth out and make you eat them one by one.” His mouth snapped shut and she said, “Consent is when someone gives you their express approval to touch them. Since you got here, you haven’t requested my consent to touch or speak to me in such a way. Allow me to tell you exactly what I think about it.”

           She gripped the back of his chair and got in his face. “If you put your hands on me again, if you speak to me again, if you even look at me again.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice became a withering hiss. “I will claw your fucking eyes out of your head and shove them down your goddamn throat. And while you’re choking to death at my feet, the last thing you’ll see and hear will be the sound of my laughter. Do you understand?”

           He could barely form a thought to phrase back, but he managed a light threat. “Murder’s illegal.”

           (Y/N) barked a laugh that sent shivers up their spines, then she sneered, “You’re not the first man I’ve killed. You won’t be the last.” A grin crossed her lips, and Thomas thought he was staring at the mouth of a lioness. “But I would love nothing more than to add you to that list. Would you like that?” Thomas shook his head rapidly. “Coward.” She spat and stood straight.

           For a moment she simply glared at the man, then a mask fell across her face and she turned to the rest of them. “So, shall I take dessert orders then?” When no one spoke, she smiled. “Then I’ll go get your checks. Please excuse me.”

***

           As the group stumbled through the tavern, they seemed to avoid the hostess’s eyes, still terrified about her threats. (Y/N) saw them off with a smile, and when Haytham came up to her, she regarded him with a polite gaze, but one that held resentment and suspicion. “Did you enjoy your evening sir? I hope you’ll come back to visit.” Her smile brightened. “We enjoy high-class company.”

           Haytham huffed through his nose and stared at her. “I apologize for Thomas’s behavior.”

           Her smile dropped and that rage began to slither out. “If he ends up missing, don’t come here.”

           He cocked an eyebrow, but his eyes held humor. “Because you wouldn’t have anything to do with it?”

           (Y/N) leaned forward and hissed, “Because I’ll be halfway across the colonies by the time the authorities get here to arrest me.”

           “You’re fairly confident to speak of killing a man so openly.”

           She scoffed. “Oh please, anyone I’ve ever killed had it coming.”

           “Had it coming?” he echoed, steely gaze narrowed with interest.

           “They did.” (Y/N) averted her gaze to the window and Haytham watched as she seemed to recount the past; her voice turned into a mumble, almost apathetic, like she expected what had come before. “Most of them escaped justice because their money lined court pockets.”

           “And you ensured the victims had justice, then?” It wasn’t much of a question, more rhetorical than inquisitive.

           She looked at him with heavy stare and as if her mouth were a gun, she was spitting words like rapid-fire bullets. “Who is to be held accountable when the justice system is found corrupt? Who brings them to justice when they fail those they’re supposed to protect? Who stands up for the people when no one stands for them?” (Y/N) thrust a finger into his chest. “Who protects the women and children from the ones who are supposed to be their protectors? Who protects the innocent from those who would strip it from their very souls?” Her jaw clenched. “If not them, then who? If we don’t…then who will?”

           Haytham simply gazed at her and she pulled her hand away. “I’m not asking you to understand, but don’t write me off as some crazy murderess. Any life I’ve ever taken has been an evil one, dark and corrupted. And I ensured their victim never had to live another day in pure terror.” She gestured to the door. “You should leave. Your group has been waiting for some time.”

           He didn’t move, but murmured, “If I were to offer you a job…to eliminate evil people…would you take it?”

           She met his gaze. “Only if I you keep the one man as far away from me as you can get him.” A smirk crossed her lips. “Or I’ll kill him.”

[m4-05spersonalblog]

The M4 siblings fanfiction

Chapter 1: In the name of journalism

It had only been a day since M4 discovered the story, a republic senator for a mining colony in the mid-rim and imperial captain stationed near the remains of Ziost both turn up dead at the exact same time, and security footage reveals it as the culprit, though M4 had killed plenty of people by now, some more notorious and a lot more powerful than a senator and captain, so what’s 2 more kills under it’s designation after all? The reporter who first made the story public fell to the floor of his office, set ablaze, as he looked up, paralyzed with the utmost fear of the one responsible, in front of him stood M4-05 and it’s faithful akk dog partner, Murjr, M4 grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground as the droid places it’s wristblade to his neck, speaking to him in a tone of pure anger “I don’t appreciate slander, especially slander that puts the few people in the galaxy I have left at risk, now tell me what do you know about those imposters.” The reporter was speechless, as M4 pressed it’s blade further against his neck he began to fumble for words, “I- I- was told that the one who killed the senator worked for sith intelligence, I just thought it was you collecting on those bounties you do when your owner doesn’t need you shoving people who only want to give the public the truth aside!” In a sudden burst of emotion, M4 pins the reporter against the wall, slowly causing blood to drip from the man’s neck, if he didn’t talk quick enough he would surely die, but before he could try and save his own life M4 gets in the first word “Here’s a story for you to publish. I. Am. Nobodies. Property!” M4 continuously slammed the reporter against the wall before cutting his throat entirely, stepping back and allowing Murjr to get some bites in of the man, though the akk dog quickly changes he spits out what was bitten off quickly. The two partners walk out of the reporter’s house before M4 sets off a disintegration bomb inside, wiping the evidence from the building as it slowly crumbled down a flaming mess, if there was an imperial copy of M4, then there was bound to be a republic one as well, but only 2 questions remained in M4’s metal head, how to destroy them and make sure it’s not copied again.

Chapter 2: Enter “Vanguard”

Cheers roar out from a bar on the upper levels of coruscant as a group of soldiers celebrate a recent victorious campaign, talking about sticking it to the imperials and what-not, with other patrons of the bar celebrating as patriots alongside their protectors, better known as ‘Sigma Squad’. As the celebrations were in full swing the bar doors open and a droid with claw-like feet, a built-in jetpack and face plating walks in and up to sigma squad, prompting more cheers from the soldiers. The orange and white droid looks at the squad before introducing itself, it’s voice contained that of a proud republic accent as it gives a salute, “M4-06, code name: vanguard, the first of the 06 assault series developed by the SIS for usage by special operations squads, having completed my testing I have been transferred to act as a member of sigma squad, effective immediately.” The hulking sigma squad commander chuckles and pats the droid’s shoulder “Don’t worry vanguard, we knew you were coming, welcome to the squad! I was told you had our next mission for us, but that can wait, come, join the party!” The squad and bar patrons partied on until dark and they got kicked out by the barkeep. Back at the republic command centre, the squad, once more suited up in armour looked eagerly at their newest addition to relay their next mission to them, the droid robotically looks at the squad before projecting a holo-image of 2 droids that looked near-identical to it. “These are M4-05 and M4-07, M4-05 is the droid I am based off, a dangerous mercenary and republic defector, M4-07 is my sibling who was stolen and modified by sith intelligence during the early stages of our development, command has decided it is up to us to destroy them, for the republic.” The commander walks up next to Vanguard and gives some final words “I’ll requisition the gear we need ASAP, we leave at 06:00 in the morning, we have our orders, sigma squad, move out!” The squad walk out as the commander turns to Vanguard and simply directs the droid to follow him to requisition the gear needed.

Chapter 3: Preparations After a sudden jump to hyperspace M4 forces open a security crate, laying it’s optics on the deadly contents. “Looks like Azutek came through” M4 plainly stated as it picked out the disruptor rifle, sealing the rest of the contents back in the case before putting it in a smuggling compartment “Best keep those unarmed unless I have to use them” the droid simply mutters to itself, the silence aboard the tenacity was beginning to cause M4 to go mad again, without distraction M4 only did what it had ever known, calculate. Every movement, every second, every destination and every purpose had to be flawless, if not, go back to the start and do it all again until it’s right. This feeling of loneliness, even if it was to keep one of the few people in the galaxy M4 cared about safe, was something it simply couldn’t push back forever, going so far as to turn off it’s face lights and removing it’s faceplates just so it could practice everything with it’s own, unfiltered optics, M4 wanted every advantage possible, even if that meant pushing it’s only body built for combat to the absolute limit. As time went on M4 slowed down it’s combat calculations and began thinking more straightforward, it had an idea of a plan, but nothing specific, all it knew was to lure it’s copies to a location and destroy them both at the same time, what remained was, how and where? It needed an unrealistic amount of luck to even get the 2 to the same location and luck wasn’t logical, M4 pondered about this for some time, talking to itself in it’s lonely state “Luck… luck, there is not a possible way to calculate such a thing or even obtain it, to a point, luck can be considered something a person is born with, the concept of luck favors those incredibly stupid for they would not survive without some form of intervention… ugh” M4 waves it’s head around in annoyance realizing that out of the statistical odds of it, it knew one of the luckiest idiots in the entire galaxy, and it owed the idiot a favour, how joyous this plan was going to be, doing so it sets course and turns back around to a hub-zone of loot, rumors and the one place the pirate known only as “Flip” could likely be found, Nar Shaddaa.

Chapter 4: The imposter’s imposter

“Dread it, run from it, death arrives all the same, or rather, it simply has more intelligence than your organic brain can comprehend.” A sly, robotic, imperial accent matched with black paint and armouring met only with the laughter of an idiot about to start wallowing in his own blood, the masked fool laughs “You know, you would make a great actor, plus you’d be doing a better job than you are right now.” The masked idiot gets his head slammed into a wall of Nar shaddaa for this, the claw-like metal hand creating an ear-piercing scratching noise as the imperial assassin, M4-07, runs it’s hand down to Flip’s neck, “I’ll give you credit, fool, you’re braver than most targets who’ve had the pleasure of seeing my face, you lack their fear, but a sith agent without fear to feed on is a vicious beast to tangle with.” Flip just laughs at the sadistic droid “Wow, you really don’t get the message huh? I already told you where your big bro was heading, someplace called ‘the crater’ ominous I know, but hey, there are hundreds of craters in the galaxy, which one do you go to, let me, help you, so I can help myself keep living?” 07 let’s go of Flip’s head, letting him drop to the ground like a sack of hammers, only for the idiot to get back up on his feet and stretch as if he hadn’t just had his ass whooped for the 17th time this week. “Like I said, I don’t know where ‘the crater’ is but I do know a place that’d be easy to kill an organic for your brother, it’s this completely inhospitable area on Tatooine, not even moisture farmers can use it, plus it drives people insane, now I don’t know a huge amount of it’s backstory but if my luck is anything to go off, I reckon it has a base there, no place an organic can approach without going insane? Any droid would want to go there!” 07 looks at Flip before speaking again as it raises a blaster to Flip’s face “Your service to the empire will be rewarded painlessly” Though before the droid could even pull the trigger Flip rolls to the other side of the room before grabbing his dropped rifle and jumping out of the closed window and falling into the abyss below, all the way down yelling “At your service!” 07 backs away before dropping a thermal detonator in Flip’s hotel room, even if he did survive the fall, he didn’t have anywhere to sleep anymore…

Of course anybody who knows Flip, knows he can survive worse than a big fall, getting caught in a red speeder, driven by M4 of all droids before zooming off to the spaceport, M4 shook it’s head as Flip relayed the details to it, now it owed the fool two favours.

Chapter 5: “Hello old friend”

M4 stood in front of a burnt and decaying pile of logs in the vast and harsh desert night of Tatooine, so much had happened since M4’s first visit here and everything personal always caused it to end up here, except with Grillrilot, but that wasn’t an opportunity it would’ve got a second shot at. Simply staring at the wood as it’s cloak flew in the wind the droid noticed something it hadn’t noticed last time it was here, a single holoprojector that had somehow survived the bonfire, curiously M4 picks it up and wipes some ash off it before placing it down at it’s feet and pressing play on it. The projector boots into life as a man clad in red armour, with red hair and the worst shaving job in the galaxy, appeared, taking the droid back, the man simply smiles at looks at M4, speaking in a typical mandalorian accent, with a hint of balmorran. “If you’re finding this, it means this… disorder of mine has got the best of me and I was proven killable, if so, I commend the warrior who managed to kill me and rid the galaxy of the voice in my head, but chances also are you found this looking for some wisdom from a strong member of clan Stalos, who defeated the republic’s own mandalorian killer, twice and fought alongside some of the best warriors in the galaxy, well bit of some bad news, whatever you might know about my story might be a little lost in translation, because… Well a lot of the stories attributed to me are only half true, I never faced a single enemy down alone, there was always someone else by my side in a fight, whether that be aiding me through a commlink, on the field of battle, or just when I needed someone to talk too, whether it’s still around by the time this message is played back I don’t know… we sort of, got into a fight and well… we went our separate ways I suppose. So maybe I do have some wisdom after all, whether they are mando’ade or not, anyone who is willing to stand by you through everything the galaxy throws at you is a true vod, whether they consider themselves mandalorian or not, for me that person was a droid, funny I know, who’d have thought a mandalorian and a droid would make such a good team, the droid in question was called M4-05, heh… We started out hating each other, and I mean hated each other, all we both wanted to do was get off tatooine and go our separate ways then, but things obviously changed, M4 was more than a machine, more so than I think even it realised, it was a friend to so many people, sure it could be a bit cynical at times, M4 stuck around when nobody else did… and I let the voice in my head throw that away, but M4’s tough, built of some of the strongest stuff in the galaxy, always had a plan for everything, it’s got a plan to outlive the end of the universe itself I bet, dunno if it’ll stick with artix or move on to work with someone else, what matters is that it finds a place in the galaxy… where was I? Oh yeah, moral of the story and stuff… a brother is more than your fellow mando’ade or your blood, a brother is someone who believes and doesn’t give up, someone you can be transparent with, someone who sticks by your side just because it’s you. So, to whoever may be seeing this recording, do this mad mando a favour, just one, find M4 if you can, tell it, no, tell my brother I’m sorry, tell him that Robert ���Anarch’ Artix-Stalos was wrong, that I wish things could’ve turned out better, got a kid on the way and everything as well, coulda used a babysitter every now and again…” The long and drawn out recording finally stops and M4 looks down at the recording, before removing it’s faceplating to look at the projector before picking it up and look at it with it’s two, basic optics before speaking back to the lifeless projector, in a sad and defeated tone “I wish I had a plan for this… I really do, but given your combat success, perhaps the best plan isn’t having one at all… and apology accepted, ‘brother’.” The droid places it’s plates back on before walking off further into the desert, the last remains of it’s first true friend in hand.

Chapter 6: The crater (dun dun duuun!)

M4-07 stood in a desolate, completely black area of Tatooine, amongst what appear to be the charred remains of a sand person camp, the only thing not charred in the area was a single cliff face, with no cracks or rocks to use to climb, only 07, no life, no back-up, yet impossible to ambush… Then at the top of the cliff stood a group of heavily armed republic soldiers as none other than M4-06 jettisoned down to meet 07 in the optics, as it yells in declaration “M4-07, you are found guilty of working as an agent of sith intelligence, surrender now and you will be treated fairly!” 07 just looks at the soldier droid before chuckling “M4-06 and sigma squad then? I don’t know what your game is but I doubt you’ll find your ultimate goal here, allow me to explain the purpose of our creation, we were built to anger the same droid, to lure it out of hiding and destroy it, to our respective factions we are expendable, I am here of my own initiative to prove otherwise, your being here benefits only me, not you and certainly not our target.” 06 stands proudly in defiance “If my purpose is to be expendable in the fight for freedom then so be it!” it’s imperial brethren only shakes it’s head in disapproval “A patriot to the end eh? Well I suppose I can sympathise to a degree, my programming grants me free thought in nearly every aspect, other than attempts to betray my empire.” 06, clearly tired with 07’s ego simply raises it’s rifle to the droid “Enough talk, either you come silently, or in pieces! And once we’re done with you, we’ll deal with 05 too!”

In response 07 raises it’s blaster firing at 06 with no hesitation, 06 responds by firing back, both droids absorbing and ricocheting the shots with their armouring, as the 2 scurry for cover as 06 yells into it’s comms “Commander, your assistance would be appreciated right about now!” 06 actually got a response, but not from the person it was expecting, as a cold, robotic voice speaks through the commlink to 06 “Not so fast, inferior. And don’t think about adjusting your aim, one move towards me and the blood of your organic masters is on your copied hands.” 06 continues to engage 07 as it speaks back through the comms as it briefly looks up to spot a dot of red and black atop the cliff where sigma squad has seemingly disappeared. “So the traitor shows themself, you will surrender yourself to republic custody for trial in front of the galactic senate and leave that of sigma squad alone.” The patriot droid’s demands are met with a sinister and annoyed tone “I don’t know if you’ve ever been programmed to deal with a hostage situation before, so allow me to give you some tips, do not demand the exact opposite of what the hostage-taker wants.” for a second a blaster shot echos from the cliff before a human body is thrown off and hits the ground with an unbearable cracking sound. “For every wrong move you make, is another republic death on your hands, can your limited mind comprehend that?” Atop the cliff M4 turns it’s head to the entire unconscious sigma squad as it waves the commander’s helmet over them and watches the 2 droids below fight each other before speaking into the helmet “Now, my demands are simple, destroy M4-07, then yourself.” As yet more bolts bounce off 06’s armour it simply gives a simple response “No can do, my duty is to serve the republic, not you!” M4 simply sighs back in response, before something atop the cliff goes boom and M4 descends down to the ground, causing the two copies to stop shooting at each and look at it before it simply states “Wrong answer. Now I’m not usually one for teaching those I’m about to kill a lesson, this place ‘the crater’ that’s not it’s real name, that’s just what the only jedi who ever came here called it. The real name of this place is ‘daba'r’ which is mandalorian for ‘The beginning’ and in my case that’s what organics would call, symbolic.” 07 simply points it’s blaster at M4 and begins firing “Enough talking, shut up and die! For the empire!” and in suit 06 yells in response “For the republic!” M4 simply draws it’s blasters and opens fire on the two, bolts ping back and forth as the 3 all try to get a killing shot on each other. The battle raged on into the cold night, the once more cold desert allowing all 3 machines to operate at their respective peaks. With the fight going nowhere, M4 jettisons itself at 06 to no avail as 06 dodges and M4’s stomach crashes into a charred rock before it gets grabbed by 06, which repeatedly strikes the point hit by the rock before turning M4 around to use as a shield against an oncoming 07, piercing M4’s armour with a metal screech painful enough to deafen even the poorest functioning hearing. In this state of immobility 07 begins to strike M4’s face plating repeatedly, the unified wish of the two copies to destroy their original outweighing their dogma against each other. The strikes against M4 so continuous and powerful the metal begins to bind inwards until the sound of shattering glass could be heard, one of it’s primary optics had been broken, unable to even move the two opposites throw the broken droid to the side as they begin punching each other out.

Chapter 7: Can’t beat a classic

The shattered, cracked and flickering optics of M4 fade in and out as the sound of white noise clouds the sound of the copied droids slamming their metal fists into each other, this wasn’t meant to happen, how did this happen? All M4 could do was search it’s memory, what had it miss? Past Nat’s party, past fighting the progenitor, past working for Azutek, killing Stalos, killing Grillrilot, further than even the first time on Tatooine… Soon M4 only reached nothing but darkness, except for one sentence, repeating over and over, in a voice even M4 didn’t recognize “Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean he’s not smiling, so you can keep your fake friends because I’ve got a better one!” ...how old was this memory that not even M4 could remember it? But it didn’t matter, the voice brought the old droid a feeling of warmness, not like the kind of heat on tatooine, a feeling of pride, even now M4 felt no fear, but it wasn’t a feeling of malice, something much better than that, something that caused the droid to roll over and pick it’s beaten body back up. Seeing this 06 and 07 freeze in place, how was M4 still able to stand on it’s 2 feet with only one primary optic working? To this question, M4 only gave one answer, with a tone of pure determination “I am made of stronger stuff than what’s on the surface.” Only with one response, the 2 droids began to run at M4, both of them trying to dent the other on the way to the stationary droid, 07 being the more agile of the 2 made it first, unprepared for what M4 was planning, using what power the droid had in it’s rockets it performs a roundhouse kick to 07’s face with enough force to tear off it’s face plating, and before the imperial copy could even retaliate M4 dug it’s hand into 07’s exposed face before tearing out the copy’s wiring, letting the now powerless assassin drop to the floor before turning it’s attention to the soldier. 06, having just witnessed the mechanical carnage, didn’t know what to do, it had no protocols to use for this scenario, it knew M4 could be brutal, but not to that extent, it had practically given up as M4 closed in on it picking up one of it’s blasters on the way, as 06 tried to analyse a new strategy it’s legs were shot out from beneath it as M4 grabs it by the neck, before speaking in the tone of anger “You are everything I ran away from, living proof your precious republic will burn in it’s own incompetence, you were never, nor will you ever be my equal or better. So allow me to properly introduce myself: I am M4-05, and I implore your masters to throw their entire army at me, waste the blood of their dogs, let them howl in pain for the sake of someone else’s ego, I will not provoke the republic more than they will provoke me so next time your masters consider trying to kill me, make sure they remember Grillrilot, and remember how he ended up because I am capable of so much worse!” with it’s speech done M4 begins to slam 06 into the same rock it had been thrown into earlier, repeatedly, until the last semblance of functioning tech had faded from it’s enemy, dropping it to the ground. Before leaving M4 places two oddly shaped detonators next to the robo-corpses of it’s copies before walking off just over a mile away, only pressing a button on it’s belt, an explosion large enough to level two buildings goes off in ‘the crater’ creating an actual crater now only muttering something with a joking tone as it limps off back to it’s ship “Programming is overrated anyways.” Epilogue: My turn Stumbling back onto the Tenacity, M4 puts it’s damaged body back on the bridge, pressing a few buttons to try and take-off, to nothing, now fuel or power, M4 chuckles at this “Of course… Things really are full circle… Oh well, at least I have options this time around…” M4 throws it’s head back as it powers down and a red and friend-sized astromech bursts into life as it exits the cargo hold, speaking in the native language of binary. “M4-05 = back to the beginning. M4 = searching contents… Contact = found.” Authors note

This, despite however bad it may be, was a lot of fun to write, sort of revisiting everything I’ve rped with M4. Now it’s no secret of mine that a couple of years ago I wasn’t in a good spot mentally, and since then I’ve got out of that state and been thanking people for listening to my bullshit ever since, and swtor rp has definetly helped me deal with the shit I was dealing with during all that. I’ve been rping on swtor for over a year now and despite all the arguments and drama, I’ve enjoyed myself at the end of the day, it’s been an escape and a way to socialise with new people who aren’t the sods I go to school with, so to the jedi, sith, mercenaries, the pubs, the imps, the overdramatic adults who act more like children than the actual 16-year-old, the mechanics, gamblers, the Mandalorians, criminals but certainly not to the ‘erp exposure’ guy, thank you. Thank you for making this past year so much better than it had any right to be.

[loveislattes]

Take You Away (DarkXGN/AFAB!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: 

Dark/afab gn!reader: the reader is naturally submissive with a praise kink to end all praise kinks—dark likes to fluster & tease the reader with praise until all they can do is whine and whimper needily?  Mixed with- DarkxReader- Dark is a mythical, eldritch, being who lures curious souls into his forest. Similar to InfelixXReader.

Alright, if you know my writing by now, you know I almost always gotta come up with a back story. So this first chapter is all world building and fluff. 

Only warning for this first chapter is it talks about the death of a grandparent.

@underthedark13

@moriimae

@oi-fischfuck

@beck384

@book-of-roses

@therealcap

It was fitting, empathetic almost really. Grandma had cried herself practically empty and so the clouds above were drizzling their own tears for the family. A melancholic smile turned your lips up the slightest bit as you watched your grandma get up from her second home in the dirt of the small garden, wiping her hands clean on her old apron. It wasn’t until you realized she was going to attempt to carry the over-filled basket of vegetables that you finally sprung into action.

“Hey, why don’t you let me carry that?” you offered gently.

At first, you thought she was going to refuse your offer, that familiar stubborn look coming into her eyes until she relented with a sigh. 

“I suppose,” she grumbled.

After handing off the basket, she took a few of the potatoes and carrots off the top. 

You offered her a grand smile and said, “It’s the least I can do after lazing around and just watching you do all the actual hard work.”

“Yeah yeah.”

She waved you off and started toward the back door but not before you spotted the little grin she now had. It felt like a victory of epic proportions after how down everyone had been the past few days. The toll of your grandpa’s death had dealt a mighty blow, which is why you were staying an extra week at home with her. Not that you minded. You needed the break from work and it had been a long time since you’d seen her in person. 

“You coming or not, child?” she chastised warmly from the doorway.

Chuckling and giving her a little shrug, you replied, “Yep, sorry! Got lost in my thoughts.”

It amused you to no end that, despite being over eighteen for however long, she still called you child just like when you stood at her knee height. Some things never changed. Just like how she stood at that same spot every night to cut up the ingredients for supper, and how she always kept her coffee mug just a little too close to the edge for your liking. 

Setting the basket on the floor by the pantry, you slowly worked to get all the vegetables put away while listening to the steady chopping of the knife on the board and the gentle sound of her humming. The instant you were finished, you joined her at the counter.

“Uh-uh. You know I love you dearly, child, but you’ve been clucking around me like a mother hen all day. You and I both need a break. Leave me to do my work and go get some fresh air. Maybe go see if that Walmart boy you used to like so much remembers you.”

At the mention of your middle school crush, the Walmart greeter who was at least a generation older than you, you barely managed to hold in a cringe-laced groan.

“Uh, no thanks. I’m good on that front,” you muttered, rapping your knuckles on the counter rhythmically, “But I’ll find something to do.”

Before you had even finished the sentence, you knew exactly where you were going. You’d been dying to explore the woods outside the house since the day after the funeral but didn’t want to leave your grandma alone too soon. You’d spent most of your summers there as a kid until your parents stopped bringing you here.

“Go. Have fun. Act like the young adult you are and get into a little mischief. Not too much though!” 

You slipped your jacket on and called out a reminder to your grandma that you were only a phone call away before running out the door. You noted, thankfully, that the slow drizzle from before had lightened up even more into a sparse sprinkle so you had the option of keeping your hood down. As your feet moved towards the familiar path through the back gate, your mind began to wander.

You knew it was a stupid hope. It had been over a decade since you’d last visited, so logically you knew that the little meadow you had claimed as your own so long ago might not even exist anymore, but you just had to see. Every summer when you’d come to stay with your grandparents, you’d spend hours upon hours in the woods exploring. The plentiful greenery served to be your escape from reality. You imagined colonies of fairies and hollows of trolls, eternal life springs, and animated Ents. At the center of it all had been the one and only imaginary friend in your childhood; a man named Dark. 

As you got older you realized there had to be some psychological reason you had imagined a distinguished eldritch being in the forest named Dark as your friend for many years but you never did figure out the reasoning. 

“To be fair, my childhood wasn’t that great,” you muttered to yourself. 

While contemplating the psychological impact a rough childhood might have on one’s psyche and emotional growth, you continued on the long-familiar path, somehow traipsing carefully around every root and limb with precise muscle memory that shouldn’t even exist. 

“Well, well, what do we have here? Little Mx. Red has come to see me again after all this time?”

The sudden deep voice nearly sent you careening to the side out of pure shock and terror. Your eyes swept from the forest floor to the clearing you hadn’t even yet noticed in front of you. And there he sat, the perfectly imperfect being of your dreams, in the same delicately grown throne of vines and limbs that you remembered from so long ago. Just as stunning as the first day you’d seen him. 

“Dark?” you asked warily.

A sly smirk parted his lips as he tipped his head your way.

“Mx. Red.”

As your brain fought your tongue to find some semblance of words, your eyes danced over him and soaked in every visible inch. You didn’t quite remember him being so… attractive. Then again, you were a child the last time you had seen him. With his pristine white suit and contrasting black shirt, he painted a portrait of class, but his unshaven face and messy black locks gave off the exact opposite vibe. It would almost be funny how human he looked if it weren’t for the fact you were utterly transfixed. When he suddenly lifted a wine glass to his lips and took a sip, it broke whatever spell you had been under.

“Wait, you remember me?” you finally asked in return.

“I remember everyone that I promise to save.”

A little bout of excitement and embarrassment wriggled through your gut uncomfortably as you thought back on everything you ever told him. So many secrets. Blown way out of proportion thanks to a child’s view on life. 

“Yeah, about that. I thought some stupid stuff as a kid. I wasn’t really being treated as badly as it seemed, at least not as bad-”

At an inhuman speed, the eldritch being leaped from his throne and came to stand mere inches from you, interrupting your train of thought and forcing silence to blossom in the slight space between your bodies. 

“Don’t. Do not compare your plights to others. Their pain does not lessen yours,” he demanded roughly, “Alas, you seem to have forgotten that I was able to see into your head and verify your fears.”

With the touch of his fingers to your temple, suddenly you were transported back a decade: Tiny little you standing face to face with the kneeling man whose face was screwed up in concern. The strange little twirl of magic that danced along your skin and billowed your hair around you. The exhilarating excitement of being allowed tea parties with playful imps and fairies. The twisting feeling of defeat when you’d have to leave at the end of each summer. 

Your legs went weak beneath you and your stomach felt like it was dropped miles below as you were suddenly back in your adult body. You braced for impact with eyes shut tight only to be yanked into the firm planes of another’s body. Through process of elimination, your mind brilliantly deduced that the only person who could be holding you was Dark and immediately your face began to burn hot. You jerked away quickly and he relinquished his hold with grace but kept a steadying hand on your shoulder. 

“My apologies,” he spoke softly, “Are you okay now?”

A little nod was all you could manage in return but that seemed enough to soothe his worries. 

“It seems that it’s been long enough since I’ve looked into your mind that your body has built up a resistance.”

“That’s… interesting?” you murmured uncertainly, “It might also be the shock of discovering that you’re actually real and not a figment of my imagination.” 

He watched as you shoved your hands into your pockets nervously but didn’t say anything in return. The weight of his eyes was heavy and built the intensity brewing in your belly to a boil. So many conflicting emotions were assaulting your mind and body that you physically couldn’t handle much more than staring back at him just the same. And at the same time, everything was suddenly serene, down to the muffled humming of the forest creatures around you. 

You weren’t sure how long it had been before the first chirping ring of your phone went off but suddenly you were alerted to the fact that you were standing much closer than you had been originally, a trembling hand halfway up to his face. Said hand instantly shot into your jacket pocket and brought your cell to your face.

“Uhm, h-hello?” you answered meekly.

“Dinner’s almost done. You coming back soon?” your grandma asked, the sound of a pot lid banging in the background.

“Sure thing. Be there in a few,” you replied. 

When you looked back up at Dark after shoving your phone away, you were surprised to find him with a little smile on his face.

“Go. I will be here when you return. I’m always here,” he coaxed.

You licked your lips nervously before giving him and slight nod and saying, “I’ll be back in the morning. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

[h-barber]

The Last Letter

Much time has passed since you last saw of me. And so much more has changed. Seven years, three seasons and some days had passed on Kha’kesh by now, yet barely some four years on the Human homeworld. Countless skirmishes, sieges and victories against the Humans were recorded and broadcast home since we had first set out to fight off the Human threat. Proud and fervent were we when our fleets decimated the Human occupied space. Ever prouder as our flags were flown tall over the ruins of Human strongholds. Little did our people know the costs we had paid.

Each moon and space station taken; tens of thousands of human defenders slain came at an unreasonable cost. We paraded and celebrated all our achievements across our space, praising our unmatched military might. Yet none ever cared for the dead or dying among us. While the Humans erected monuments and launched a seemingly unending broadcast naming and honouring their dead, we had abandoned our brethren to rot on the battlefields. Such barbarity, for little more than a minor military advantage. Over a hundred thousand of our finest were gone before we even approached our destination. Earth. For each Human we’ve felled, they’ve repaid us tenfold, reaping a dozen of ours. Still, our endless hordes could not be stopped. Their puny numbers could not even hope for a chance to repeal our assaults. Still, not one of the Humans was seen to surrender. Knowing they were the last barrier between us and their precious Earth they stood fast and held their ground.

And stand they did, a stalwart shield of Humanity, until the bitter end. They made us pay dearly for every metre of their territory.

Barely a year into the war for them, they saw each of their bastions fall, fleets scatter and their forward armies utterly decimated. Barely a year here, yet nearly three years into the war for us. Even as we stopped receiving any sort of broadcasts from home, our mission stayed unchanged. We were to subdue Humanity at all cost. Despite the silence being worrisome, we could not afford to spare any ships to send home to find out what has caused the radio silence. Alas Humanity’s last bastion stood alone, at last, Earth Stood alone. They stood alone.And yet there they were, ever proud and standing.

Unbowed, unbroken, Humanity would not yield.

During our last preparations for the all-out assault of Earth we’ve been intercepting varying messages. They differed little, from last goodbyes among families and their friends to encouragements among soldiers, bracing themselves for their last stand. “May we meet again”, they ended their messages as if they still held out hope. Apart from these, we had intercepted one new recurring broadcast that nothing but shook our resolve.

„We shall fight until the bitter end, We shall fight among the stars, We shall fight on Mars, We shall fight on every planet and moon, We shall defend every piece of land Man calls home, We shall fight them in the atmosphere, We shall fight on the plains and hills, We shall fight in the cities and forests. We shall never surrender. “

This was the first of the planetwide broadcasts we had intercepted, reaching every corner of the Earth, cementing their already adamant resolve. We never could have imagined the massive surge in open replies this has enkindled. Responses from all across the planet, from military garrisons, militias and entire cities of civilians echoed across all the available frequencies. All chanting an oath to defend their home,

„ I solemnly swear, to defend the rights and freedoms of man, from the clear blue skies of the Earth, to the far reaches of the Milky way. I solemnly swear, to stand fast against foes however vast. I solemnly swear, to defend Humanity, for as long as I shall live. I solemnly swear. We shall never Surrender. “

These broadcasts lasted for hours, pinging new locations on our tactical map every passing minute. Even battered and horribly outnumbered, they would not listen to our proposals for their surrender. They would rather die defending their home, than live subjugated.

As the time for the assault approached, I had called my commanders to carry out the final imperial orders. As was customary for the general and commanders leading the final battle of a war, we would relay a final offer to accept our foe’s unconditional surrender in exchange for sparing their lives. Normally, the offer is but an empty gesture, a pretence that we will show mercy.

However, it was different with these Humans. Over the course of the war we grew to respect our foes. Rarely do we fight others than unprincipled savages. Even rarer are wars not for survival, but ideals. Even their valour and utter refusal to submit saw no likeness even among our most elite units. Every single Human we have faced so far was worth at least ten of us. It is admirable, finding a species so young by galactic standards, yet so resilient.

And in spite of the countless grievances we have inflicted upon them, the ruthless slaughter and all the devastation, they have found the capacity to show mercy to any who surrendered to them. They spared those who would no longer hold up arms against them, and let those who surrendered have their wounds tended to. Not only did they let live those we would have executed without batting an eye, they gave them another chance at life. They showed mercy, where they got none. A truly respectable foe.

Still, a foe nonetheless.

We barely got past the courtesies at the beginning of the final negotiation, when our comm’s channels were flooded by reports and emergency requests for immediate assistance from our home provinces. Months’ worth of messages starting with mere requests for support personnel and reports of the Var’Kesh advancing towards our territory. These were over four months old, all undelivered up until now.

At first, the requests were sent frequently, several times a day, their tone growing more dire each day. The more recent messages were far fewer and further in-between. The last message was nearly a week old. I could see the pure horror and dread as it emanated from each of my commanders as they listened to the transcript of the last message. It was a casualty report, yet it listed no numbers. Just names. One after another, colonies of Kha’Kesh were listed only as, “overrun”. Meanwhile the Human leadership watched us in silence across our vidcon interface. They had answered expecting the beginning of the end of the human race. Instead they had witnessed the empire of the Kha’Kesh wither away.

That day everything changed. From us abandoning our campaign of conquest and returning to fight for our home, to the Humans’ offering of a ceasefire until we’ve saved our people. On our way home we passed by nothing but ruins of once lush worlds, but a remnant of a once proud civilisation.

The trail of desolation led across our space with no end. What used to be golden worlds teeming with life, were now barren wastelands. Once we had reached our star system, we understood the deafening silence across our space. 

The entire standing imperial armada serenely crept across space around our sun. Decrepit husks of the ships that once stood watch over the empire. Their watch has ended long since. The wreckage was far from fresh, in fact it seemed near a year old.

No responses from either our homeworld or its moons. No active broadcasts, apart from automated messages relaying orders for immediate evacuation. Seven years and three seasons had passed since we had departed Kha’kesh to wage war on Humanity.

Now we are nearing a third year since we had landed what was left of the imperial army on the remains of Kha’kesh. Since then we have liberated most of the camps where our people were herded as cattle. We’ve retaken entire cities and bastions, only to see them wiped of the face of the planet months later. The remnants of our army are holding the last reaches of the land we control. Our fleet has joined the husks of the imperial armada, as they held the space around our homeworld in a vain attempt to retain control of our space. The last ships from our fleet had gone down covering our ground retreat to our most heavily defended citadel on our homeworld. The last bastion of Kha’kesh.

We heard the shrieks outside our defences, we listened as they grew more numerous each night. The deafening growls kept us sleepless for nights on end, waiting for the storm. This was to be our last stand. As the Humans had said when faced with certain annihilation, We shall fight for as long as we shall live. However long that may be.

No one believed we would live to see another dawn, never were we gladder to be so wrong. 

As we braced ourselves for the sea of those feral beasts to come down on us, something had stopped them in their tracks. The dark night skies of Kha’kesh lit up as if dawn had come in the midst of night. The light show staggered those animals for the briefest of moments just as it had us. A tiny flame of hope came to life in our hearts as we recognised the bright blazing lights. 

Yet, they would not be stopped. They began to rush at us with their full numbers again shortly thereafter. We recognised the blasts of kinetic bombardment the moment they lit up the fields on which a rushing horde of Var’Kesh had been just moments ago. Hundreds of blasts cleansed the surrounding fields from which we were besieged for weeks. As the dust settled, fighter jets whooshed past our heads, the likes of which we have never seen before, bombarding the remaining Var’Kesh. However, the base of these designs was not all too alien to us. 

Human engineering at its finest. 

We have encountered prototypes of such fighters, yet none so vastly refined. As the jets reclaimed absolute aerial control, drop pods came roaring from the skies. In a blaze of glory, they dropped right on top of Var’Kesh positions. While we rallied at our defensive positions, legions of Human soldiers started advancing against the remaining Var’Kesh from their pods, while several smaller squads advanced on our positions.

Never was I so glad to see infamous Human warriors enter our bastion. Among them were the leaders whose surrender we had offered to accept on countless occasions. I’ll never forget the words that came from their crude translators, “Old grievances put aside, annihilation is a fate no species should face, not even those who wished it upon us”. Human compassion never ceased to amaze me. Even as we were the ones who nearly wiped them off the face of the galaxy, they came for us, when we were faced with a fate no different.

Hope was alive once more. Over the course of the next year, we have seen success we couldn’t even dream of for the three years we had desperately fought for our lives. With the Human armies and their renewed armada over our world at our side, we have reclaimed our homeworld and nearly all colonies. Today we prepare to rid our space of the Var’Kesh for good. A final assault to push them back. 

They have refitted our outermost colonies as their forward bases. The resistance we have met until now is dwarfed in comparison to how they have secured those planets.

I was never gladder we started a war we could not finish. We would have been long gone were it not for these humans. As I write this letter, the Human admirals are relaying the orders for our assault of the Var’Kesh strongholds. They had promised to keep searching for the refugee fleet, that had escaped the onslaught Kha’kesh was subjected to, as soon as we have secured our borders. I hold out hope to see your beautiful face once again. We never gave up hope you are still out there. I am relaying this message on all Kha’Kesh channels for anyone out there who might listen.

The Kha’Kesh live.

For any who might listen, Humanity is the greatest ally we could never have hoped for. Even if we are gone by the day you return, they will stand guard of our home until then.

Glory to the empire and those who remain, This will be my last broadcast, General Zun’Ri of Kha’kesh over and out.

[thedarkplume]

Throwback Thursday

Dust off those browsers, friends. We’re gonna travel back in time to the stories that brought us into the fandom or the ones that have stuck with you through the years.

Share your super old faves and reblog them, showing the authors their classics are not forgotten. Leave them a love note showing them how much it means to you.

Then reblog the first story you wrote for your current fandom or even the first one you wrote for each fandom you belong to. The world is our oyster. Let’s rediscover some pearls.

I'm not going to lie. This Ask made me a little bit sad. There have been some really great writers on this site that have left us for unspecified reasons, and some for the childish bullying that seems to be a daily thing.

One of my favorite blogs was @chocolatecherubs. They were a blog that was written specifically for black female characters in the Marvel Universe, with Steve and Bucky as the central love interests, particularly during the 1940s.

However, all is not lost! There are still plenty of blogs that I follow and love and can always count on to provide the most entertainment you can achieve without picking up an actual book. One of the blogs who always delivers on this front regardless of the subject matter is the beautiful and talented @avintagekiss24 . I've been following her for a year and it has been a nonstop rollercoaster of fun, excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of heartbreak.

@avintagekiss24 has so many stories that I reread over and over again, it's nearly impossible to pick just one. But...if I did have to choose a classic in a split-second decision it would be Night Shift. This was my first time ever reading a story about Andy Barber and since then I have not stopped!

As for my own forays into fanfiction, I've written for Twilight, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cruel Intentions, a few WIPs for We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Knives Out, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and that's not counting all of the stories knocking around in my head vying for attention!

Here is a VERY old Buffy the Vampire Slayer story I wrote.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Buffy/Angelus

Setting: 1700s, New Colonies

A/N: This story is a little different from the others I’ve written. This story is set in the days of Angelus’ life when Drusilla had just turned Spike. Bear with me if everything is not exactly up to par historically – I am not a history buff! NSFW 18+ Warnings for offensive language, subject matter, violence, blood, gore, and sexual abuse.

His features could not be termed uninteresting—there lay in them something bold and daring—but the expression on the whole anything but benevolent. There were contempt and sarcasm in the cold dark eyes, whose glance, however, was at times so piercing that no one could endure it long.

from The Mysterious Stranger (1860) – Anonymous

What is obsession? Is it the madness that consumes a man when he’s confronted with the one thing he knows he is not supposed to have? Is it the burning desire to possess the aforementioned object, ensuring that she will only think of him as he only thinks of her? Angelus paced back and forth in his chosen room of the mansion. Darla was still off reconnecting with Dracula and giving Angelus some much-needed breathing room. While she was off having her own adventures, he moved his childe and grandchilde to the American Colonies. They were in the colony named New York. Angelus loved the New Colonies. The women were not as sexually repressed, and the humans as a whole were more trusting. Since their arrival, government officials, writers, artists, scholars – everyone who held wealth and power had invited Angelus, his “sister” Drusilla and her husband William, to parties. There was nothing Angelus enjoyed more than drunk socialites.

And it was at one of these parties that he saw her. The object of his obsession. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy, to those who knew her intimately. She had long, golden blonde hair, not unlike Darla’s, but hers had more of a silky texture. Her eyes were large and hazel, brimming with innocence. She had sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.

Angelus wanted her. He wanted to bury his fangs and his cock inside her. Her scent proved that she was untried, but that would only last so long. Angelus found out everything he could about her. She was promised to the governor’s son. She lived with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. She had a baby sister – Dawn – who caught pneumonia and died at the age of six. Her father worked as a developer for the colony and his wife owned a prominent boutique. She had two best friends, Willow Osbourne née Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, husband to the beautiful and licentious Cordelia Harris née Chase.

The first time Angelus spoke to her was at a party that was thrown by an oil barren. Angelus, as usual, found himself surrounded by three potential meals. Drusilla stood by William’s side, smiling proudly as he recited poetry. It was terrible, but the women thought it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.

“Do you hunt, Mr. McConroy?” one of the women – Mrs. O’Hara or something or another – said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Angelus flashed an enticing smile. “Why yes, Mrs. O’Hara. ‘Tis one of my many pleasures.”

She wet her lips and fluttered her eyes in what he was sure was meant to be attractive. “Well, in that case, you should come to my husband’s estate in the country. You two can hunt and later you could tell me more about your pleasures.”

“How can a man of sound mind resist such an enticing offer?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

The woman continued to place unnecessary hints concerning secret rendezvous and Angelus almost lost control and snapped her neck on the spot until one of the younger women spoke up.

“There’s that Elizabeth Summers.”

Angelus’ attention immediately shifted, seeking out his dark obsession. She came in with her parents. Her large hazel eyes seemed sad, and Angelus suddenly wanted to seek out that which had caused her misery and destroy it. He wanted to be the sole source of any pain she felt. But he could not gaze upon his obsession in peace as one of the three women continued her verbal assault.

“How a strange girl like that was lucky enough to have a contract with Governor Finn’s son is baffling.”

“She is a strange one, Harmony,” Cordelia Harris vehemently agreed. “My husband says that she spends all of her time reading. Reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Well, I hear that she wishes to become a writer! As if any respectable man would want anything written by a woman! A proper lady should spend her time learning to attend a household and concern herself with pleasing her husband.”

“Yes, well, we all know that Buffy,” she sneered the name. “Is as far from a lady as one can be. It baffles me why Alexander enjoys her company so. It’s embarrassing!” she glared as said husband made his way over to Buffy.

“I see nothing wrong with a properly educated woman, Mrs. Harris,” Angelus said, drawing their attention away from Buffy. “It would be refreshing to hear a woman contribute something to the conversation beyond how pretty the dresses are overseas.”

Cordelia Harris’ expression darkened so that if Angelus had been human, he might have been afraid. “Well,” she sniffed, highly offended. “It is upon the hour, and I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood and scowled at Angelus when he broke societal conventions and refused to stand when she did. “I bid you goodnight, Mrs. O’Hara, Harmony, Mr. McConroy.”

“Mrs. Harris,” his flourishing bow was meant and taken in all its mockery. He smirked as she huffed and stomped away. He watched her approach Buffy and Alexander, and used his enhanced hearing to listen in.

“…husband and I must be going,” she said in a clipped tone.

Buffy knew that her friend’s wife didn’t like her, but for Xander’s sake, she at least made an effort. “I am sorry that you must be leaving so soon. I hope you will feel well, Cordy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, how many times must I remind you to call me Mrs. Harris?” she said tightly.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“Alexander.”

The dark-haired young man looked between his wife and his friend, wishing he could stay, but knowing he would never hear the last of it if he did. “Of course, dear. See you soon, Buffy.”

Her other friend, Willow, who had watched the scene from across the room, performed her usual damage control ritual. “You know I think one of these days he shall divorce her.”

“Willow!” she whispered, linking their arms. “You should not say such things.”

“Well, he should! I’m fairly certain the only reason he puts up with her is for the sex and we both know the pregnancy scare was the incentive for the marriage to start with…”

Angelus watched the two young women disappear out onto the gardens. “Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He left the woman at the table and sought out William. He didn’t have the same mental link with him as he did with Drusilla, but William could feel when his grandsire called him.

“You called?” he said, appearing moments later.

“Yes, I’m stepping out for a moment. Make sure no one sees Dru nibbling on the livestock.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s so special about this bird? I mean, she’s a cutie and all, but is she really worth our queen mother handing you your own arse?”

“What Darla doesn’t know won’t kill me.” Angelus knew William had a point. Darla was extremely jealous and possessive of him, but he was still sore around the edges where she was concerned, considering that she left him to die in a burning barn. Darla was his sire and that was a bond not easily broken, but nothing could reestablish the trust he lost for her. He glanced at Drusilla to see if she was keeping out of trouble and caught her thralling Harmony. “If you want the blonde as a party favor you should take her out of here. She’s as dumb as a post but has a pleasant peach scent to her.”

Angelus left his grandchilde to attend to Dru and followed Buffy’s scent through the large garden maze. She and her friend, Willow sat on a bench in front of a pond talking quietly.

“…says?”

“You mean when she’s not nursing a bottle? She blames me. She says even whores aren’t low enough to chase their own fathers,” she sniffled.

“Oh, Buffy, have you thought about telling Riley?”

“No, I can’t tell him, Will. If he thought for a moment that it’s gone further than a drunken fumbling, he’ll never speak to me again.”

“And right now, he’s your only way out,” Willow sighed in sympathy to her friend’s plight. “You know Oz and I will let you move in with us.”

“People will talk.”

“They’re already talking. One of New York’s most beloved sons married to a kike?”

“Willow!” Buffy admonished. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

The redhead shrugged carelessly. “I have been called much worse. I am just telling you that Oz and I do not care what anyone else says about us.”

“I appreciate it. And if the wedding was happening later than next month I would say yes.”

“But what if he goes too far before Riley can save you?”

The unanswered question hung heavy in the air. Angelus seethed. He barely restrained himself from going back inside, grabbing Hank Summers and tearing off his worthless cock with his bare hands. It didn’t anger Angelus that the man was taking liberties with his daughter. It bothered him that his touch would not be the first she had known from a man.

“I should get back inside before Oz starts looking for me. Come with?”

“In a little while. I just want a little more time away from the noise.”

“Don’t take too long. Your parents,” she mumbled.

Angelus watched the Osbourne woman return to the party from his place in the shadows. He turned his attention back to Buffy realizing that they were finally alone. She leaned back, her hands flat on the bench and her face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her eyes were closed, and the subtle breeze disturbed the tendrils of silky tresses framing her face. Angelus had the perfect view of the golden skin of her smooth throat. His face shifted as he imagined sinking his fangs into her throat as her naked body writhed helplessly underneath his.

Buffy’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood and she looked around her as if sensing she was not alone. “Is someone there?” she called.

Angelus contained his excitement and returned to his human visage. “Just me,” he said, pretending as though he was simply out for a stroll through the garden’s maze. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Buffy stared at the man before her. She was certain that she had never seen him around before. He was tall, very tall. He had long dark hair that was bound behind his head. He had a wide mustache and she wondered if it was as soft as his hair looked. He had dark eyes. Eyes that were mischievous and secretive. She started to believe she was dreaming. She always thought Riley was cute in a boyish way, but this man before her with the long brown hair, his piercing dark eyes and his enticing smirk was…beautiful. His smirk seemed to widen, and Buffy realized with startling clarity that she was rather rudely staring at him.

“No, you did not frighten me, sir,” she recovered.

“You are Elizabeth Summers, correct?”

“Yes, but everyone calls me Buffy.”

He took her hand – it seemed tiny and engulfed by his – and pressed a small kiss to it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy. I am Angelus McConroy.”

Recognition flashed in her large hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. McConroy! You live in the Crawford’s old mansion. Your brother-in-law, William, is it? He ordered a gown from my mother’s boutique for your sister.”

Angelus suppressed another smirk. He had sent William on that particular mission to scout out the boutique and Buffy’s work hours, and to spread the word to the local undead community that she, her family and friends, were off limits.

“Yes, my family and I moved there a few months ago.”

Buffy fidgeted with her dress before resuming her place on the bench. “Would you…would you care to sit?” she offered timidly.

He flashed a dazzling smile and took his place beside her. “Now what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing out here all alone? It’s really not safe,” said the wolf to the rabbit.

Buffy glanced up at him and flushed as he stared down at her unblinkingly. “Oh, well, I just stepped out for a moment. Just for some air,” she shrugged.

“You don’t truly enjoy parties, do you?”

“They are…acceptable.”

“Ah, but a lass such as yourself would much rather be at home in front of the fire with a book. You prefer the silence and solitude to the noise and excitement.”

She flushed an attractive pink and looked up at him from under her lashes. “I realize that those are not exactly the qualities one looks for in a woman, but…”

“But you are far from a woman, lass. You’re still a wee child.” He watched appreciatively as her skin flushed a darker red.

“Sir, I will have you know that I am of sixteen years and will soon be a wife,” she said, not really succeeding in sounding offended.

“Yes, to Governor Finn’s lad no less. I find it difficult to see what it is the boy could have done to deserve the hand of such a fair lass.”

Her hazel eyes met his and she wore a smile befitting that of the most experienced of coquettes. “Do you tell all your ladies that, Mr. McConroy?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

She started laughing and Angelus thought it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. “You are indeed a charmer, Mr. McConroy. If I may be so bold…?”

“You may.”

“Why is there not a Mrs. McConroy? A gentleman such as yourself should have amassed quite the number of prospects from the fairer sex.”

Angelus, seeing his opportunity, angled his body towards hers. “Perhaps it is because a man can only have ale for so long before he starts to long for a fine wine.”

He could hear her heart pounding in fear and excitement as their seemingly innocent conversation began to take a different turn. “But what if you’re not supposed to have the wine?” she breathed.

“That’s when it’s the sweetest.” His hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered from the contact. “Look at me, Buff,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes.” Angelus knew he could have waited rather than jumping at the first opportunity to thrall her, but he was anxious to have her in his bed.

“You have pretty eyes.”

Angelus felt his eyebrows rise. You have pretty eyes? Angelus concentrated harder and Buffy flinched as he suddenly seemed to be scowling at her.

“What? Men can have pretty eyes,” she pouted slightly, thinking he was offended.

Angelus blinked. He surveyed her carefully, playing close attention not to let himself linger on her pouting pink lips. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to resist his thrall. No one had ever resisted! The girl was obviously human. She smelled human. She had a heartbeat. What had gone wrong? His eyebrows knitted together as he ran through any and all explanations as to why his gift had failed him. He felt her warm hand press against his own.

“Angelus? Is something wrong?”

He recovered, wearing his signature smirk. “You think my eyes are pretty, do ye?”

Buffy fiddled with the sleeves of her dress looking anywhere but at him. “Yes, they resemble little pools of chocolate.” She felt his fingers lace through hers and looked down. She liked the way their hands fit.

“Now which one of us is the charmer here, Buff?” he watched her shiver as his fingers idly stroked hers.

“There you are!”

Buffy stood, withdrawing her hand from Angelus, completely missing his darkened expression. “Riley,” she said, her heart pounding heavily as though she’d been caught doing something terribly wicked.

“I have been searching all over for you, Bethie.”

He took her hand in his own, missing her subtle wince at the nickname she loathed. “Forgive me if I have caused distress. I only stepped out for a moment.”

“Your mother and father are looking for you. They –.” Riley stopped short when he saw movement behind Buffy. “Hello,” he said to the man who sat on the bench watching them unabashedly. “I do not believe we have met. I am Riley Finn, Elizabeth’s husband-to-be.”

“Oh, yes, the governor’s boy,” Angelus said, taking in the blue-eyed baby-faced boy with mocking eyes.

Although the sarcasm went completely over the boy’s head as he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, Angelus smirk only grew when Buffy gave him a warning glare.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said proudly.

“Riley, this is Mr. McConroy.”

Riley tensed slightly, something neither Angelus nor Buffy missed. “McConroy. You purchased the old Crawford Mansion.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his eyes glinting slightly.

“Well, it was nice making your acquaintance, Mr. McConroy, but Elizabeth and I must be going.”

“Of course. Nice meeting you, Finn.” He turned his penetrating eyes to Buffy. He picked up her hand and gave her a lingering kiss that left her near breathless. “T’was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, Buffy.”

“Mr. McConroy,” she blushed.

Riley’s jaw clenched as he led Buffy away. But his annoyance over what he saw as a threat to his future wife was nothing compared to Angelus’ fury over Finn impeding the progress he had made.

“I do not trust that McConroy fellow,” he confided when they were of a safe distance away from him. Or so he thought. “He worries me.”

“Riley,” Buffy sighed. “Mr. McConroy is a nice man.”

“You know him well, then?”

“No. We only made acquaintance tonight.”

“Yet he already calls you Buffy.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Riley Finn, I do believe you are jealous.”

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “Do you find him attractive?”

Buffy blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is…agreeable. But it is you who will become my husband. Your name I will carry and your children I shall bear. Tell me once more why you are jealous?”

With a few well-executed words, Angelus could see Finn’s worries and inferiorities fade away. He leaned down and kissed her lips as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“Bethie?” he whispered, still holding her close.

“Yes?”

“If I asked you to do something, as your future husband, would you do it?”

Buffy tensed. Her small hands fisted the sides of his shirt as her mind twisted and turned over in itself. As her future husband, he could ask almost anything of her, and she was duty bound to obey. She trembled against him and swallowed the bile suddenly flooding her mouth. “Yes.”

“I wish for you to have no further contact with Mr. McConroy or any of his family.”

Buffy stepped back from him so that she could see into his eyes. “Riley, I have already told you that Mr. McConroy bears no threat to us.”

“But he does,” he argued. “Have you noticed the strange occurrences in our town?”

“Are you referring to Madeleine Archer?” Maddie Archer was two years younger than Buffy and had gone missing from her bed in the dead of night.

“Yes, as well as Rebekah Harte, Joshua Black, Edward Morton, Christine Adams, and countless others.”

“Riley, how do these unfortunate people pertain to you desiring distance between Mr. McConroy and myself?”

“They all vanished or perished inexplicably after McConroy, and his family took residence in the Crawford Mansion.”

“You are not suggesting…?” she gasped.

“There is something amiss about them. His sister is said to be touched in the mind, but there is more. She speaks in prophecies. Her husband, William, the poet, who may I say is not very good, he was seen with Rebekah Harte before she went missing. Then there is your new acquaintance. He never leaves the mansion during the day. He does not work and yet he attends every party and somehow amasses enough wealth to support his family. They have no servants or cooks. Their skin is unnaturally porcelain – must I go on?”

“Are you suggesting to me that Mr. McConroy, his sister and her husband may be…nefarious individuals?”

Riley smiled humorlessly. “Why does it frighten you to speak the word, Bethie? You once told me that what most would believe to be a monster, you see as a beast maintaining his nature.”

“I was referring to the work of Bram Stoker, Riley. Beasts exist, yes, but not of that sort, and certainly not amongst Mr. McConroy and his family.”

“You have always had faith in the most undeserving of creatures, Bethie.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a silver cross on a chain.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish you to wear it whenever you leave the mansion.”

“Even in the sunlight?” she quipped.

“Even in the sunlight,” he answered, unaffected by her glibness. “All of the victims’ blood was drained through small punctures to the throat.”

Buffy paled as she gasped. “What? But you never said anything!”

“My father thought it was best that the families were not informed of this. It would lead to panic and at this time, the authorities have declared it a beast. Wear it. For me.”

“Okay,” she whispered, still struggling with the concept of the creatures she learned of as a child could truly exist beyond the pages of a novel.

Riley secured the cross around Buffy’s neck and exhaled in relief. “Now I believe we should find your parents. They can hardly fault a man for enjoying the company of his love.”

The couple left the garden arm in arm, completely oblivious to the heavy stare on their backs.

Angelus was beside himself with fury when the Finn’s and the Summers left the Hardy Mansion. He had covered his tracks and the tracks of his childe and grandchilde carefully. Yet, the Finn boy seemed to have linked all of their victims back to them. Although he tried his best to come across as noble and caring in Buffy’s eyes, the boy was far more concerned with her affections rather than her safety. The thought in itself caused a malicious smirk to befall his angelic features. They would have to be careful. Meticulous. One mistake and all would be lost. Nevertheless, Angelus would have Buffy Summers…even if he had to eviscerate every townsman to get her.

Angelus itched to relieve his fury and he knew just how to do it.

“Margaret, is it?” she was nothing. An aide in the Hardy household with the burden of a fatherless son. She was not remotely attractive, and her blood was not in the slightest appealing. But her polite smile and cautious eyes appeased him.

“Yes, sir.”

“I regret to bother you as I can see you are terribly busy, but I am afraid I require your assistance.”

“In what way, sir?” still so trusting.

“Come with me, please.”

Ah. There is the hesitation. “Very well, sir.”

He led her to a dark corner underneath the stairs hidden from the rest of the intoxicated socialites. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it? Not complete privacy, but it should do for what I have in mind,” he said, letting his eyes drift over her, hoping to discomfort her. She predictably squirmed under his gaze, unaware that her used and aged body held no appeal for him.

“Sir, I…I should get back,” she stuttered, her heart pounding beautifully, forcing her blood to flow quicker through her arteries.

“Why not stay a while? After all, you did say you would help a fellow with his problem,” he purred, moving even closer to the frightful maid.

*“Sir, please, I should return to the party.”

*“Margaret, Margaret, there’s no hurry.”

She tried to pull away from him, hoping that someone might see. *“Mistress will be wondering…”

*“Sshh,” he cooed. “Mistress will be wondering how to get the good Reverend Chalmers into bed and will not notice the absence of canapé.” He stroked her chin for good measure, and she shuddered in spite of her fear. “Stay with me,” he urged.

Angelus could tell by her eyes that she was considering it. How could she not? A lowly maid, past her prime, receiving the attentions of the young and wealthy Mr. McConroy, a man that all women, be they married, betrothed, or divine worshippers, have attempted to lure into their beds.

*“Sir, people might talk,” she weakly protested. “I’ll be put out on the streets. My little boy would…I can’t lose this job,” she said, forgoing any thoughts she might have had about taking a chance with the beautiful Angelus McConroy.

Angelus, sensing her resolve, lost his temper. He grabbed her arms. *“Then you must keep quiet.”

*“You’re hurting me!” she said, speaking a little louder than she intended.

*“Ah! Cry out. Call for help. I’m sure Mistress will believe your behavior beyond reproach,” he sneered.

*“Please!” she gasped, wriggling in his embrace.

Angelus shook her roughly. *“Come, make a scene, huh?” he taunted. “Shall I?”

Margaret hesitated. *“No,” she whispered.

*“No, no. We’ll be as quiet as mice.”

Margaret lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. If she closed her eyes and didn’t put up a fight, maybe it would be over soon. No one would believe her if she said their familiarity was forced.

Angelus could almost taste her defeat. His face shifted and when she looked back up at him, her fear and terror flooded his senses. *“No matter what.”

*“Sir!” she trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “My son!”

Good, he had almost forgotten. *“Oh, he’ll make a fine dessert, huh?”

He grabbed her, sinking his fangs into her throat before she could scream. He drained her quickly. She was unsatisfying and not at all fulfilling. He released her, letting her body fall carelessly to the floor. He tucked her away in the corner, knowing one of the other servants or perhaps her Mistress herself would find her. Angelus maneuvered around the intoxicated guests, following Margaret’s scent to the servant’s quarters. He found Margaret’s whelp sleeping in his bed. He was a boy of no more than seven years. His hair was curly like his mother's and a brighter shade of blonde. Margaret’s pallet lay positioned beside the boy’s bed. The boy clutched a worn brown bear that was missing its left eye. He was a beautiful child, clearly taking after his father. The boy opened his eyes and startling emerald green eyes met his own.

“Are you an angel?” he whispered.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk that threatened to reveal itself. “An angel?”

“Mum says when it’s time an angel will come and take me to see my Da. Will you take me?”

He arranged the boy’s body in his bed and retrieved his mother, placing her on top of her pallet. From a distance, it would look as If they were merely sleeping. He returned to his mansion an hour before sunrise.

“Daddy, we saved her for you!” Drusilla called over the screams.

He strolled down to the “playroom” in the cellar. The room smelled of sex, blood, and fear. The young woman from the party, Harmony, was naked and railroad spikes had been driven through her hands and ankles, courtesy of William. Her legs and stomach were flayed, and Drusilla greedily lapped up her flowing blood.

William leaned against the wall, a pipe in his hand. “How did it go with the bird?”

Before he could answer, Harmony turned towards Angelus. Her face had been clawed, most likely by Drusilla, and her right eye hung out of its socket and lay limply against her cheek. “Mr. McConroy, help! Please help me!” she whimpered.

A cold smirk drifted on his lips as he played with her blood-soaked hair. “I could help you, Harmony, but you would have to do something for me first,” he taunted.

“Anything, anything.”

“Open your mouth.” A single tear fell from her good eye. She opened her mouth without hesitation. Angelus released his semi-hard cock and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and gagged as his hand knotted in her hair. “She resisted my thrall.”

William pushed off from his relaxed stance against the wall. “Resisted? How the bloody hell did she do that?”

“Gee, William, I have no idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time,” he growled, shoving his entire length down Harmony’s throat.

“She’s not like the others,” Drusilla whispered. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She was having a vision.

“What do you see, pet?”

Just as Harmony’s heart stopped beating, Angelus felt his seed spurt into her mouth. He pulled out, using her hair to clean himself off, smiling lightly as his seed and her blood dripped from her mouth.

“She was almost Called.”

“Called?”

“As in…?” Angelus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But the Powers…she was unworthy…innocent blood on her hands…now she is just a human.”

Angelus ran a hand through his hair, attempting to process what they had just learned. Buffy was meant to take the Calling. She was to be a Slayer, but she killed someone. The Powers deemed her unworthy and now she will never be a Slayer. But even though she didn’t have the Call, she was still equipped with the typical Slayer attributes. A mental block to resist the thrall. Possibly strength to fight against any demonic creature.

“Darla is going to kill you,” William snickered.

“Darla is too busy fucking Dracula to care what I do!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Drusilla hunched over, moaning and hugging her stomach. William’s good mood faded quickly as he and Angelus flocked to her side protectively. “What do you see, Dru?”

“Bad man…bad man…bad man…”

“What bad man? What is he doing?” Angelus questioned her as she leaned against William.

“Touching…bad touch…bad touch…wants to keep her…wants to hurt her…!” she moaned.

Angelus growled deeply, startling his childe and grandchilde. “Hank Summers is a dead man. William, at first dark, I need you to do something for me.”

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

Five favorite writing bits from 2020

I was tagged by @kunstpause and @potatowitch thank you so much for this tag! It was fun to reflect on my writing from this year. I only really started in July, so I’m looking forward to things to come!

Mostly, this will be passages from my Cullen/Trevelyan fic, but there is a Greedfall excerpt that I technically think I wrote last year???

Under the cut because this got long

Sides of the Coin (unpublished as of 1/21)

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Green Blood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 18

“I’ve been told you were romantically involved with the Empress.”

“I didn’t take you for a gossipmonger, Inquisitor,” Briala said, smiling sadly.

“Is it true?”

“Would it be so terrible if it was? It is lonely at the top, Your Worship - something it seems you know well. Is your own Commander not warming your bed?”

“My personal affairs are not threatening Empires.”

“Aren’t they?”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 17

Evelyn looked him over, sensing the dread that filled him. Though he insisted otherwise, the group that had accosted him had shaken him. If she could help it, it wouldn’t happen again.

“Cullen, what if I told you there was a way to keep them off of you?” She looked up at him nervously, and Cullen’s brows knit together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Evelyn pulled the silken kerchief from her breast pocket, running her thumb over the embroidered lettering.

E.T. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.

Bold, indeed.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 3

Cullen hastily took the reports from the scout and set about finding a quiet corner of the Chantry to work in. Ordinarily he’d prefer to work outside, but he had been waiting for the reports from the Hinterlands since the Herald… no, Evelyn... and her team had left weeks ago, and their importance required a focus only a quiet room could provide.

Cassandra’s was on top. Unsurprisingly, her reports were clean and concise, detailing their endeavors and findings in the form of an organized list. Her information was useful, and Cullen took note of anything he may need to pass on to Josephine and Leliana. As he copied down the details, he noticed Cassandra’s final entry, written below her other notes.

Our arrival at the Crossroads was met with resistance from rebel mages and Templars. The Herald was pinned beneath a Templar and held by the neck. I was able to stop the Templar, but the Herald suffered minor bruising. After a week of fighting beside her, I have determined her lost footing was not a mistake. The Herald is an extremely well-trained rogue.

CP

Cullen stared at the report, as though his gaze could bring further explanation. One of the first rules of combat training was to never let your enemy take you to the ground, especially for rogue fighters, who often wore lighter armor. He pulled out the next report, hoping it would contain more information.

The next came from Solas, who had thoroughly described the area, citing historical sites, locations of natural materials, and possible locations to camp. It was actually quite useful, but didn’t answer his question about the incident with the Templar. That was until he realized the pages had stuck, and there was one more note on the final page.

Evelyn suffered a minor injury to the neck caused by an altercation with a rebel Templar. Though she claimed to not be bothered by it, she moved her head tenderly, and the discoloration turned to dark bruising. I applied an elfroot salve to the affected area that evening, but there was not much that could be done for it. It has been healing well on its own.

Solas

Cullen flipped immediately to the next report, hoping to find something else.

Curly,

Have I mentioned that I hate the wilderness? The Ferelden cold bites as harshly as its war dogs. It has been two weeks since we parted with civilization. Since then, it has been nothing but hastily made camps. Rams feed on the grasses of rolling hills, while their predators lurk in hidden caves beyond view…

Cullen groaned. Varric’s report was far thicker than the others. His clean yet elaborate scrawl continued for pages. While entertaining, it made it difficult to find the information he needed. He skimmed through until he found what he was searching for.

When we arrived at the Crossroads, we were attacked from both sides by mages and Templars alike. Our team was caught in the middle, and neither group cared to differentiate between us and the enemy. They even went so far as to turn hostile against Inquisition soldiers and refugees. A Templar almost killed a refugee woman, but Evelyn tackled him to the ground at the last moment, giving her enough time to escape and saving her life. Unfortunately, once on the ground, the Templar was able to pin Evelyn down by the throat. The Seeker managed to pull him off and kill him before things could get worse, but the Herald was bruised for days. Trust me when I say we need to watch her, Curly. I’ve seen firsthand what this world does to heroes.

V.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 10

“Of course,” Evelyn said, intently picking lint from her sleeve. “I’ll be down in just a moment.” Once they were gone, Evelyn looked toward the floor, appearing far more sullen than she had just moments prior.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked. Evelyn sighed.

“It’s Alexius’s judgement. It’s one thing in the field, when someone attacks you - when you know it’s you or them. But to sit on a throne and condemn… What Alexius did was terrible, but he only wanted to save his son. I can’t say I don’t understand. Sometimes I wonder if I’d have done the same, in his place. But then I remember that future…” she placed her hands on her hips, biting her lower lip and trembling with rage. “It was horrible, Cullen. They imprisoned our friends - used their bodies to mine red lyrium. It infected everything! Then they tortured Leliana, destroyed the Inquisition, and I didn’t know what happened to my family, or what happened to you, and I… Dammit!” As she dabbed a tear away with her glove, Cullen impulsively wrapped his arms around her. He did so awkwardly, at first, but then he relaxed, resting his chin atop her head as Evelyn eased into him.

“Why didn’t he attack me? Why couldn’t I have killed him then, in the heat of battle, without having to worry about whether or not it was right? And now I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” Cullen said softly. “I know it won’t be easy, but you can.” Evelyn breathed deeply, allowing the comforting scent of oakmoss to calm her.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she finally pulled back, immediately missing the comfort his arms had brought. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Don’t be sorry, Evelyn. It’d be more concerning if nothing troubled you.”

“Tell that to my parents,” she said sadly, gazing at her boots. Cullen gently tilted her chin upward with his hand, guiding her eyes to him.

“You can do this. I’ll support whatever you decide. And I heard from a reliable source that the kitchen staff have been baking cakes all afternoon, so when it’s all over we’ll get you a slice of cake and a glass of that wine Josephine hid in here. Alright?” He slid his hand through her hair and Evelyn laughed, sniffling a bit.

“I do love cake. But no more than one glass of wine. I’m a bloody lightweight.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Thank you, Cullen.” Evelyn smiled up at him, feeling a bit better. The gaze changed when she realized just how close they were, his hand resting on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to the scar on his lip. Her heart pounded as she realized he had done the same, and the desire to feel his lips on hers consumed her.

Then she remembered where they were.

How long had it been since she last had a man in her bedroom? Alone? And this was not just any man. It was Cullen. Cullen, who she looked forward to seeing each day, who she thought of frequently in the field, who had cared for her after the fall of Haven, who she worried for at night. There was no denying she cared for him, and if the look in his eyes was any indication...

The thought made her nervous, and she glanced toward the bed and back to him, cursing herself as he followed her glance. He blushed furiously when he realized where she had looked, and Evelyn felt the heat rising in her own cheeks as they pulled away.

“Perhaps… we should…” Cullen spluttered.

“I… should get down there,” Evelyn managed.

“Of course.” Evelyn started toward the door, then turned to find Cullen still looking after her.

“You should come.”

“Right,” Cullen said, quickly following.

Tagging @kemvee @noire-pandora @hawkeish @musetta3 and anyone else who wants to!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Human Repellent”

While you are reading this one, I want you to be thinking and come up with another marketable idea that aliens can use to repel humans like in the story :)

Also  a few people have asked me lately if its ok to make suggestions or prompts, and I just want to remind you all that that is very much welcome to please do so. 

They landed at Revelation Colony two weeks after the prison riot ended. If this had been an old sci-fi movie, than this would have been exactly the place for your titular hero to make a shady business deal with an underground alien mob boss, but in doing so manage to insult him inciting a chase across space itself. However, Revelation didn’t exactly follow the tropes of old film. Sure, it was the center for the black market in this quadrant of the galaxy, but instead of organs or artifacts of power, it mostly dealt in undeclared souvenirs like snow-globes and commemorative bobble heads.

The criminal presence was so laughable that, despite being the hub of black market trade, it was most known by tourists for its low prices, great market deals, and as a major staging area for UNSC and GA interests.

This was their main purpose for being here: speaking with superiors, allowing the crew a break, and perhaps finding someone who might be able to help them with Conn. Ever since the prison riot, and the defeat of the Gibb scientist the starborn hadn’t moved to so much as scratch an itch.

According to Krill, the starborn was stuck in a state of unresponsive catatonia with brain waves similar to that of a coma patient. Commander Vir couldn’t help but feel responsible for the whole thing. In fact, Conn’s current state was in direct relation to the rescue attempt by the starborn to save the Commander from losing more limbs. 

They had discussed the incident multiple times since it had happened, but could make no real sense of what had happened. The commander was under the impression the starborn had overloaded himself, and the Gibb with some kind of memory flood or something similar. He could only vaguely remember the feelings that had come upon him when the starborn had touched him, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Sunny had suggested that the starborn had used Vir’s own memories and emotions to short circuit the Gibb, but also ended up catching some of the backlash himself.

Commander Vir wasn’t quite sure about that for he didn’t feel that his memories or his emotions were strong enough to do something like that. He personally thought it was some last ditch defense that the starbor itself could employ, but who knew.

IN the aftermath of everything, the Gibb scientist had been locked back up as catatonic as Conn, Noctus had managed to escape, but according to corporal Ramirez, he wouldn’t be gong very far, or at least not going where he wanted. 

As the Tesraki was escaping, Ramirez had managed to partially destroy the warp converter leaving the Tesraki flying blind even if he managed to survive.

So, after all of that, they had returned to somewhere with human influence to rest, relax, and debrief. The admiral had been as  pleased with the outcome as he could be, and had eventually conceded to give the crew a well-deserved break. Commander Vir, however hadn't been so lucky, and was ordered to do the admiral a favor before he got his rest.

So that is why he was here, walking down the dark, crowded streets, surrounded on all sides by colorful neon booths containing wares from all over the galaxy. Hundreds of faces stared at him as he passed hawking their wares with raised voices and pleading beckoning motions.

Behind him Sunny walked with her head high examining the crowd for any perceived threats. it  hadn’t been a question that he was going to bring her with him, for by this point, it had been openly established that she was his partner when it came to the smaller operations. Not only did they work well together as a team , but they very much enjoyed the other’s company.

“Remind me why we’re here again.” The question sounded more jenuine than it did annoyed, otherwise she seemed relatively happy to be off the ship, and out and about. He also had a feeling she was relieved he hadn’t been reduced to a catatonic mess like the other two, and may have been slightly worried, keeping watch on him to make sure he didn’t collapse drooling.

“I guess the GA has caught wind of a new issue cropping up in some of the marginal alien markets. Apparently, there is a high market demand for products that can repel, or incapacitate a human.”

Sunny blinked in surprise as they cut past a colorful rack of hats, and down onto another less-crowded side street.

“Why would they be doing that?” she wondered almost managing to look baffled.

“Well, it’s only to be expected, with the influx of humans in the galaxy they are bound to run into the worst of us.” It was true, in fact, humanity brought with it what might be considered the best and worst of the galaxy. Where there were men like Commander Vir, there had to be his equal and opposite in all ways. Luckily the GA understood the nature of humans, the best and the worst mentality, an entire species of ride or die types who could come out the best of the best or evil beyond comparison.

Of course, before this understanding was met, there had been some massive PR nightmares which came with the first inter-species murder, assault, robbery etc etc, but eventually things had straightened out, but aliens were no less frightened of humans than they had originally been.

“So are we here to confiscate their things?” Sunny wondered 

“No, no of course not, even on earth we make weapons to repel other people. We are just afraid of us as the rest of the galaxy pepper-spray, tasers, knives, guns,, your own keys. We have been in the business of protecting ourselves from humans long before you guys thought of it. No, the issue here is whether the objects are legal and use reasonable force.” Though when it came to humans, reasonable force usually meant lethal force for any other species, “Ah, here we are.”

The commander stopped in front of a shop, whose door was covered by a beaded curtain strung through with neon orange lights. The effect was gaudy and blinding, but he shook the light from his eyes and pushed inside. Sunny followed after.

Their presence, and entrance, into the small store immediately halted everything in its tracks. The Tesraki proprietor had frozen mid way through his sales pitch to a rather shiftly looking pair of Gibb. A few of the other customers squealed and hid behind the stands.

It was clear that a human and a Drev weren't exactly what they hoped to see this morning, perhaps the last thing they wanted to see. Commander Vir tipped the brim of his uniform hat and tugged at the collar of his suit jacket where- on stood his wings, the insignia of the GA and the UNSC, “Morning. I’m Commander Vir of the UNSC affiliated with the GA and this is my weapons lieutenant Sunny Lumnusdaughter.”

The tesraki eyed them suspiciously as they stepped further into the shop. Despite being a human, Everyone knew the name Vir, and Sunny to an extent, so they didn’t cut and run.

“What do you want!” The tesraki demanded, “I have my sales license, and my customers have every right to protect themselves from brutes like you.”

The commander simply smiled, “Of course, I don’t deny that right, The GA just wants to make sure that it is being done within the constraints of the law.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “So please, go on with your demonstration, and pretend we aren’t here.” 

Hesitantly, the Tesraki went back to his pitch eyeballing the human the entire time as he went. “Yes this little beauty right here is made BY humans FOR humans and can apply a force of about 50,000 volts of electrical current directly into the body. This causes the muscles to seize up immediately and the human will be grounded. Downside is the human can immediately get back up after the shock is discontinued, so while it  won’t stop one, it will be a serious deterrent.” The Tesraki eyed the Commander, “Of course, the best way for ou to test if my products are legit and ethical….”

The commander frowned, “You just want a demonstration to help sell your product.”

The Tesraki shrugged it’s furry shoulders, “You can hardly go back to your superiors and say that you know for sure this is ethical if you haven’t tested it.”

There was a moment of pause and the commander sighed eventually looking at Sunny, “If he kills me, rip his limbs off.”

That dampened the Tesraki’s smug look, but the commander was already unbuttoning his uniform jacket which he pulled off and hung on a hook on the wall removing his cap as well leaving him only in a white long sleeve- button up shirt and the uniform slacks. Sunny didn’t much like this idea, but glowered at the Tesraki to let him know she meant business.

The human stood legs slightly bent hands out to his side. Sunny stood behind him.

“Watch closely.” the Tesraki began before stepping forward and jamming the contacts against the human’s stomach. There was a sharp snapping sound which repeated violently as the human immediately seized up only managing to bite a curse through his locked jaw before falling backwards. Sunny caught him as the human twitched and jerked  violently. She almost worried he was having another seizure before the Tesraki pulled back, and the human immediately regained his body groaning only to slowly regain his feet.

“Ow that hurts like a bitch.” He cursed rubbing his stomach where the contacts had made.

The spectacle had drawn a rather interested crowd, and the Tesraki was looking very smug, “See quite effective.” he looked towards the commander, “Do you want another?”

“Hell no, what kind of question is that.”

The Tesraki ignored him and turned back to his crowd, “See, a fantastic deterrent.”

“Now lets see, this little spray bottle here is another human invention for humans and contains  the poison capsaicin in concentrated doses. Now, while some humans enjoy small doses of this poison on their food they do not enjoy it sprayed in their eyes. It will result in a burning sensation, and an overreaction of the mucous membranes.” 

The commander backed away his hands raised, “Wow, uh I am not demonstrating that. I would like to be able to see for the next few hours thanks.”

“See even the mention of it causes them to back away in fear.” The Tesraki said dramatically 

Commander Vir rolled his eyes as the rest of the crowd oohed and aahed. 

“Humans, you may have heard have more senses than any creature in the galaxy…. Accept maybe for the Drev.” He glanced at Sunny, “So what if I told you that I could make the human run from this room without lifting more than a finger.” 

Around the room the crowd shifted in disbelieving anticipation 

“The one sense they have that the rest of us do not, can be used against them. You see that weird protrusion in the center of its face.” The commander frowned, “That is a nose and it can be used to detect particles in the air. Everything sheds particles of itself, and if there are enough of them, a human can sense it. I would very much recommend this little device for those who come from the Iota quadrant, and are known to smell irresistibly delectable to humans. You see, when this pin is pulled particles are released into the air. When a human breaths them in they bind to chemical protein sights in the nose, and I am told that the smell is quite revolting.”

The commander looked a bit skeptical one eyebrow raised, but the tesraki reached down and smugly pulled the pin. The reaction was ALMOST immediate. For the first second he just stood there and then the man’s eyes widened a hand shot up over his face, and he gagged violently. It seemed as if he tried to adjust himself to the smell, but then gagged again and turned to race towards the door knocking over a stand as he went doubling over a few more times leaving Sunny sure he was going to vomit. He vanished out the door after a couple of seconds, and the crowd clapped politely. The Tesraki returned the pin smugly.

Sunny sniffed at the air. She could just catch a whiff of something, but having been born on a planet dominated by volcanoes, it hadn’t been prudent to make her susceptible to bad smells, as sulfur was common. It was more useful to be able to detect sweet and sour smells.

“Scientists believe that this reaction exists as a primitive way to keep the creature from ingesting anything poisonous. The human nose cannot tell the difference between a smell inside the mouth and a smell outside the mouth. If the nose detects a dangerous level of certain types of chemicals that could be poisonous, it demands that the human move immediately. It can even cause an involuntary holding of the breath and a regurgitation of the last meal i.e those horrible noises it was making as it left.”

It took awhile for the commander to return, and when he did, he was mad. He marched up hand over his mouth and nose and grabbed the Tesraki by the arm. His voice was somewhat muffled by his hand when he said, “That smelled like a HUMAN corpse, so explain yourself.”

The tesraki calmly brushed him off, “Calm down, Commander, its a simple chemical compound that mimics the bacterial breakdown of your human flesh. No humans were harmed in the making of this weapon. Though you have to admit, it is quite clever.”

“Quite disgusting.” The man commented, but backed away

The Tesraki continued unfazed, “Now this one is a might bit more expensive, and takes a bit longer to operate. See first you used this to scan the human, and then you press one of these three buttons. Or you can press them all at the same time see.” There was a sharp clicking noise, and three small drones launched themselves at the Commander,’s face. The man tried to duck, but the three little pieces connected themselves together and latched onto his head and neck. The bulk of the device was locked around his neck, but a few legs of the contraption gripped themselves over his face.

“What the hell.” He muttered

“Then you press this button.” The machine whirred, and the human shrieked in pain falling immediately to his knees as his head was forced back and to the side. Sunny snarled, and the Tesraki let go of the button.

The man fell to his knees, and the device detached.

“Pressure points, areas of inherent weakness and high concentration of nerve endings on the human body. If pressed they cause severe pain. Humans have more of these points on the body but TW-17, GV-26 and LI-18 are sufficient. The last one can even cause nausea and unconsciousness if worked hard enough.”  

Commander Vir rubbed his neck, “AND they can be lethal.” The tesraki frowned, but the huan held up a hand, “Which is why that device requires testing, authentication, and review from the electronics board. If it is going to e used, it has to be a NON-lethal measure with a short burst duration. We don’t want anyone getting funny ideas that they can enslave humanity.” He glowered at the tesraki 

Later, when they walked from the store, Commander Vir was looking more the worse for ware. Sunny watched him in pity, “Why do you always insist on hurting yourself?”

The commander rubbed the back of his head, “Do you think I do this for fun?”

“Sometimes I wonder.” 

“I am allergic to pain.”

She laughed, leaned over, and picked the human up. He yelped in surprise than looked at her, “Really.”

“You look tired.” And this is how I show my appreciation.” 

“Ah yes, by bridal carrying me through the city.” He gripped halfheartedly 

“I can do fireman or sack of potatoes, but I hear this one is more comfortable.” She said beginning her walk through the city

Commander Vir only argued for the sake of politeness before dropping it, besides, he didn’t really mind. He was exhausted, and besides he actually kind of enjoyed the attention.

Don’t forget to comment with your idea for repelling humans, if you have one. 

[midnightartemis]

Invisible Stars: Chapter One

Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Finn/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Maz Kanata, Larma D'Acy, Amilyn Holdo, Snoke (Star Wars), Boba Fett, Bossk (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Arashell Sar Additional Tags: Mentions of Suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abuse, Drug Use, Suicide Attempt, Star-crossed, Dreams, Alternate Universe - High School, High School, School Dances, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Teen Angst, Foster Care, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Multiverse, Reincarnation, Attempted Sexual Assault, Assault, Graphic Description, teenage romance, Teenage Drama, Horny Teenagers, Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending

Chapter One

The call came suddenly like it always did. A new home. A new foster parent. A new school. At least this time I would be starting right at the beginning of the year. That was easier. I could work with that. I only hoped that this one would last.

I had my small bag of things packed within five minutes and I sat waiting anxiously on the edge of my government-issued co-housing bed. I wondered what shitty luck the universe had decided to drop on me this time.

It wasn’t that I was a bad kid. I tried to keep my head low, my grades high… it’s just that I usually got the short stick when it came to foster parents. The bad eggs. The abusers who somehow slipped through the cracks of the shitshow that is the United States child protective services.

It had become some sort of sick game for me. I move into a new home and it’s okay for a few days, weeks even. Then the abuse would start and I would start gathering evidence. When I had enough I’d wait until a particularly bad day to call the cops, drop the evidence, and get their licenses revoked.

I was a survivor. I could take the punches, the days without food, the yelling, and everything in between, but others couldn’t.

I check my watch and grab my bag. Time to go. My caseworker and house mom are waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. My caseworker is a tall, skinny woman with white-blond hair and a kind face. She tried her best, she really did. It wasn’t her fault I always found the worst homes. My house mom, known affectionately as Aunt Z, was much the opposite, short, large, and with a permanent scowl on her face. I also couldn’t blame her for that. She had to deal with all the girls who came through. I had only known her for two months, but that was long enough to know that she had a big heart. My heart hurts a little at the thought of leaving her, but I had very little control over where they sent me. Miss Holdo, my caseworker, breaks into a huge grin at the sight of me. “Miss Niima! All ready to go?”

I nod. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

“Girls,” Aunt Z barks. “Get in here and say goodbye to Rey.”

I bite my lip. I didn’t want a big send-off. I hardly knew most of the girl’s names. I only ever talked to most of them at group therapy sessions. It was better to not get attached. One by one, they trailed in. There were six of us in total. Most of them mumbled a goodbye and slunk back out of the room, but Ara raced up to hug me with tears in her eyes. She was the youngest of the group and had grown attached to me over the course of the summer. I hugged her back.

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure to text you and visit if I can.” She sniffled back her tears and I ruffled her red hair.

“Alright, time's a-wastin. On with you.” Aunt Z grumbled but affectionately patted my shoulder. It was her version of a hug.

Miss Holdo smiled and I followed her out the door, chatting as we walked to the car. “I think I found a good one, Rey.” Her eyes were a little guilty. “We’ve had really good success with her in the past. She only takes cases like yours and as soon as she saw your profile, she called me to ask about you.”

Great. I tried to hold back that flicker of hope in my subconscious. I had gotten my hopes up before and, yet, here I was again. I got in the passenger seat of Miss Holdo’s car and immediately took a piece of gum from the container on her dashboard. She started the car and I buckled up. She handed me the AUX cord as she always did.

I plugged the cord into my beat-up iPhone and started scrolling through my songs. Hozier sounded good. “Where are we headed?”

“Not far, just an hour. Republic.”

Republic. I had never been. New school. New people. New everything, then. Okay. “And this foster mom?”

“Unmarried. A bit older, in her fifties. She seemed very nice and very interested in you. She runs a tavern on the northeast side of town by the river.”

I frown. “Is she going to make me work there?”

“No. She told me that she likes to keep her work separate from her home life, especially when there is alcohol involved. She let me check her cupboards. There’s not a drop of alcohol in that house, Rey.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“I did a super thorough inspection. Even called her previous cases. They all stayed with her until they came of age. I really think this could be a good fit for you, Rey.”

In other words- don’t fuck it up. All I wanted was to put my head down and get through junior year in peace. “If you say so.”

We drive in silence. I look out the window watching the town of Jakku, Vermont slide away into the past. Holdo is bobbling along to the music and I close my eyes, soaking it in.

It’s late afternoon when Republic appears in front of us. Worn down houses and trailer parks line the streets of the southside. There are sketchy gas stations and abandoned storefronts. People sit on their porches and stand on corners, their eyes watching Holdo’s sleek black car as we drive past. I’m waiting for her to put her blinker on and turn off the main road towards one of the broken-down houses or parks, but she keeps going. The cracked sidewalks get a little nicer, the storefronts, less abandoned. We pass through two stoplights and then we’re crossing over a river and a trainyard. This side of the river, the houses are nicer, many of them newly renovated. We pass through a downtown shopping area filled with little boutiques, an ice cream shop, an old fashioned movie theater, a coffee shop. It’s quaint, perfect. “I think you missed your turn.”

Miss Holdo laughs. “Nope.”

Shit. Well, okay. I’d dealt with rich fosters before. It didn’t end well for them. Let’s just say that the dad was a little too hands-on. The anxiety is back in my chest. I worry my lip between my teeth. The downtown area slowly morphs into old historic houses and residential housing.

“I want to show you your new school first.” She seems much too excited. We keep driving until the historic houses have turned into rows of newer developments and gated communities. She takes a turn and we pull into the parking lot of a huge tan building. New Republic High School is marked on the side in large silver block letters. The front is filled with huge windows and the inside looks incredibly new and clean with white walls and wide stairs and solid oak doors leading to classrooms and offices.

I raise my eyebrows and Miss Holdo chuckles at my shocked look. “I know. It’s huge. Some of the best teachers in the state work here. They were very impressed with your transcripts, especially with everything you’ve been through. They still want you to take some placement tests, but they’re excited to have you.”

“Oh, okay.” I think I’m in shock, just a little bit. It all seemed too good to be true. Everything was completely different from the shitty schools in Jakku.

“Oh, shoot. We better go, I don’t want you to be late to meet her.” Holdo sped us out of the parking lot and back towards town. We pass by the new developments and into the historic district. We turn down a tree-lined road filled with huge Victorian, Colonial, and 1920s style houses. Everything seems picturesque, each lawn trimmed and cared for, the vines perfectly placed. Holdo slows and we pull up in front of a tiny 1920s bungalow. I breathe a little sigh of relief that it’s not one of the giant houses that flank either side. There’s a huge, old oak tree out front, a little brick path leads to the steps of the porch. There’s a light on. A white swinging bench is hung from the porch roof. The siding is painted almost a teal, seafoam green-blue with white trim. Flowers line the house and there’s a seashell wind chime hanging from the porch. My nerves make my stomach twist.

Holdo turns off the car and we get out. She grabs her bag of paperwork and we start up the path. I’m holding my breath as we climb the stairs of the porch and Miss Holdo knocks on the door.

“Oh! One second, one second! I’m here.” The door swings open and I look down at the smallest woman I think I’ve ever seen. She can’t be more than four-six, four-seven. I tower over her at five-eight. Her eyes are huge behind her round, black, thick-framed glasses. Her grey hair is coiffed perfectly and she’s dressed like she’s been working in the garden all day. I smile. She opens her screen door and beckons us in. “Come in, please. I hope you’re hungry. I made burgers on the grill. It’s such a nice day out and I couldn’t resist. Oh, where are my manners? You must be Rey. I’m Maz. Maz Kanata. I would prefer Maz over Mrs. Kanata, but,” she clicks her tongue. “I’ll also take ma.”

I’m completely overwhelmed. I glance at Miss Holdo and she shrugs. The door opens straight into the living room which is filled with an eclectic assortment of chairs and a couch. Art hangs on almost every surface and there’s a small TV over the fireplace. It’s warm and inviting if a bit chaotic. A set of stairs leads up to a second floor. We follow Maz through the living room and into a large kitchen. Everything seems like it was pulled out of a vintage magazine and cobbled together with love and color. There’s theory to the chaos. An archway leads to a dining room with a huge colorful table and none of the chairs match. A door in the kitchen leads to another porch outside. This one isn’t covered, but it overlooks the backyard. I can’t help but gasp at it. Stone paths circle raised garden beds. There are a hoop house and a pond and a bench beside a huge fir tree surrounded by flowerbeds. It’s beautiful. What the hell is happening?

There’s a table on the porch beside a grill and it’s been set for three. Maz hurries over. She’s awfully fast for an old woman. “Sit, sit. Please. I wasn’t sure if either of you were vegetarians, so I made some bean burgers that can make even a carnivore cry.”

I smile and take a seat. Shock. Yep. Definitely in shock. What’s the catch? Maz builds our burgers and piles our plates high with chips and fresh fruits and vegetables. She pours us a glass of lemonade each and finally, takes a seat. I hesitate, looking between Holdo and Maz, unsure of the protocol. Everyone was different. Maz's huge eyes glance at my plate. “Well, eat up, hun. You’re as skinny as a stick.”

I eagerly dig in and moan. It’s so good. “This is the best burger I’ve ever had.”

“Good. I’ll teach you how to make them. Now, business is best discussed over a good meal, let’s get on with all the legal mumbo-jumbo.” Maz winks at me and I giggle to myself. She was definitely different, like no foster I’d met before.

“Right.” Miss Holdo wipes her fingers on a napkin and pulls out my case file. It was far too thick and I glance at Maz, but she didn't seem fazed. Right. She would have seen it. “Miss Niima is to remain in your care for the foreseeable future. She will be taking classes at New Republic High, as we discussed. We will have weekly check-ins in person for the first two months. And if all parties are comfortable after those two months, we will move to bi-monthly check-ins until Miss Niima turns of age on October 13th, 2021, one year and two months from now. Miss Niima will also continue to go to group therapy sessions once a week with the local therapist. I believe you’ve already contacted him and gotten an introduction session set up?”

“Oh, yes.” Maz pulls a card out of her pocket. “Here’s the number and the date and time of the appointment.” She looks at me. “Wednesday afternoon, once you get out of school. But, we can schedule around any after school activities you want to take on.”

“After school activities?” My jaw drops. I’d never been given the opportunity.

“Oh yes, they have a billion different little groups and teams there. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Okay.” Holdo grins. “All I need for you to do is sign and Rey is in your care.”

I sign and then Maz signs. It didn’t take a lot for me to sign my life away. It was signed away a long time ago. This wouldn’t last, it never did.

“Now.” Maz folds her hands together. “I like to set down my expectations for you in front of your caseworker so that we can all be on the same page. If that’s okay?”

Again, not like I have much of a choice. I nod, curious to know. “Yeah. Yes.”

“School comes first. You can get a job if you want to, but you have to keep up your grades. Judging by your past transcripts though, that won’t be much of a problem, but I know that junior year comes with a lot of stress. I will make sure that you are safe, fed, and clothed. It’s up to you how you want to take my hospitality. I’ll hold you responsible for your actions, and breaking rules will have consequences. All the rules are posted on the fridge and you are welcome to discuss them with me at any time if you would like to amend them or add more. Okay?”

I nod.

“School night curfew is 10 pm. For every time you’re more than five minutes late, that curfew will be moved up by fifteen minutes. Weekends, we will start at 11 pm and go from there. There’s also a list of chores you’ll have to complete. They’re designed to help you become a self-sufficient adult. So, you’ll do your own laundry and clean your own room and dishes. You’ll also help me cook and work in the garden on the weekends. But,” Maz’s large eyes go very serious, and I still myself for the catch. “Above all, I want you to build relationships and trust. Trust goes both ways, Rey. You have mine, right now. From the start. If and when you have problems, I want you to be able to come to me. I will never call anyone on you as long as there’s no immediate harm to anyone. I’m on your side. And, I’m here for the long term. That means we work through our problems, together, okay?”

That was not the catch I was expecting. My heart is racing and I feel like I’m about to cry. It’s too good to be true. I guess I would believe her when I see it. “I- yeah… Okay.”

Maz smiles. “Good. School starts in the morning. I’ll be starting you off on a twenty-five dollar allowance. It should be enough for snacks at school and coffee with friends. If there are any other supplies you want, talk to me and I’ll see if I can get them for you. How’s that sound?”

“Okay. Twenty-five a month is more than I usually get, so-”

Maz chuckles. “No, sweetie. Twenty-five a week.”

My eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“I’ll be taking you to school and picking you up, but if you want to start learning to drive, I can make that happen. This is going to take a lot of communication, Rey. Probably a lot more than you’re comfortable with. But you can ask me any questions you want, okay?”

I nod, feeling overwhelmed.

“How are you feeling, Rey?” Miss Holdo looks over at me, a gleam in her eye.

“Ah… A little overwhelmed. I guess.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Should I let you get settled in?”

“Yeah.” I glance at Maz and she’s happily biting into her burger. She’s strange, but… I think I like her.

“You have my number, so don’t be afraid to call. I’ll see you Saturday morning at ten, okay?” Miss Holdo stands to leave and grabs her paperwork. “Thank you for the dinner, Maz.”

“Any time, hun. You should call more.” Maz raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry, Maz. I will. I promise.” Miss Holdo gives Maz a small hug and I’m left bewildered.

Maz sees my face and chuckles. “Long before she was your social worker, Rey, Amilyn was causing quite a bit of trouble for me.”

I suddenly understand Holdo’s certainty that I would be a good fit here. “You were in the system?”

Holdo nods. “Almost didn’t get out of it, if it wasn’t for Maz. She’s a good one, Rey. I promise. Just keep that nose out of trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for it,” I grumble. Holdo smiles and bids her goodbye. Maz gives a big old sigh and starts gathering plates. I automatically grab my plates and follow her into the kitchen.

“Just put the scraps in the compost bin and set your things on the counter. I’ll take care of it tonight. The rules are on the fridge if you want to read them over and sign them. We can discuss any of them that you want to.” Maz steps up on to a stool so that she can reach into the sink and starts running water for dishes.

I shyly make my way over to the fridge and read the list. It’s what she basically already told me plus a few extra notes about cleanliness and food. Anything not marked in the fridge is fair game. Shower regularly. Add necessities to the shopping list before Friday. All of it was already more room than I had ever been given in most households, that is beside the ones that didn’t give a shit. The last bullet just says- Respect is built. Love is given freely. Responsibility is learned. Trust goes both ways. Beside the rule list is a whiteboard daily chore chart. Weeding the garden is marked for Saturday and Sunday (subject to weather). Clean dishes and homework are marked every day. Sweep is marked every other day. Laundry and clean room are unmarked. The date of school starting and my therapy appointment is marked in red on a calendar. Despite the eclectic feel of her house, Maz seems incredibly organized. I pick up one of the markers stuck to the fridge and sign the rule list. I date it.

“All good?” Maz is waiting for me at the entrance to the living room. I nod and she gestures for me to follow her. I climb the stairs behind her and we end in a hallway. There’s a door in front of us, and another to my left and right. Maz gestures to the door in front of her. “My room. You need anything at any time and I’m in there you can knock .” She points to the door on my right. “That’s the office. There’s a computer in there that you can use to research, watch your Youtube videos. Though I think they give out laptops at that school now. I don’t know, I’m not the most technologically up today as the kids these days. I apologize in advance. There’s no cable and I can’t figure out the Apple TV doo-dangle-thing.” She points to a half-open door on the right side of the hall. “That’s your bathroom. I never go in there so, you’re responsible for telling me when shit breaks. I went out and got you some supplies, but if there’s anything else you need, let me know. Now…” Maz opens the final door on my left and flips on a light. She leads me into a simple room, painted cream and blue stripes. There’s a twin bed covered in a white comforter pressed against the wall, a wooden desk under the window, a dresser against the wall with a record player and a box of records, and an open door to a walk-in closet that looks like it’s filled with clothes. I can’t help but stop and stare.

“This is mine?” I set my one bag down at my feet.

“All yours, hun. You can arrange it and paint it how you want. Most of this stuff is leftover from previous girls. You can have whatever you want and anything else, I can put in storage. I think Jyn left a lot of her old clothes and you’re about her size.” Maz looked over the room. “Tomorrow, if you want, we can go shopping for any clothes you might need. Underwear. Bras. Whatever. Oh, and this is for you, for your first day.”

Maz picked a plain blue backpack up off the bed and handed it to me. I took it hesitantly and unzipped it. It was filled with notebooks and pens and pencils and even a calculator. Tears sting at my eyes. It’s too good. It’s too good to be true.

“Oh, hun. Can I give you a hug?”

I nod and her surprisingly strong arms wrap around me. I break and tears fall and I’m sobbing now. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve any of this.

[iamchikara]

Results for the 2019 Infinite Gauntlet under the cut.

Match #1: Young Lions Cup Defense #3 Still Life vs. Thief Ant Both competitors enjoyed their fair share of crowd support, with the reaction described as split. Still Life tossed the YLC at Thief Ant, taking advantage of the referee taking it away from him to hit a bulldog headlock before locking in the Venus de Milo, ending the match. WINNER: Still Life Match #2: Tag Contest Lucas Calhoun and Stray Kat (1 point) vs. Icarus and Travis Huckabee The question I posed regarding if Huckabee would ever have to wrestle himself was rendered moot, as Calhoun and Kat pulled out an upset victory and earned their second point after Calhoun utilized the Samoan drop to pin Icarus. Kat apparently hated the back tattoo just as much as the majority of us do, as she scratched at it at one point. WINNERS: Lucas Calhoun and Stray Kat (2 points) Match #3: Singles Contest Der Wildebeest w/Jakob Hammermeier vs. Missile Assault Man After having rushed several opponents to earn his way to a shot at the Grand Championship last month, MAM was unfortunately on the receiving end this time, as Der Wildebeest made easy work of him before finishing him off with a running crossbody. WINNER: Der Wildebeest (1 point) Match #4: Tag Contest Fire Ant and Green Ant vs. Cajun Crawdad and Merlok A hard-fought match that could’ve gone either way. The Creatures of the Deep representatives almost had the match won at one point with a top rope double stomp/Emerald Flowsion combination, but Green Ant made the save to keep his team alive. A tandem Beach Break secured the Colony the victory. Post-match, they were attacked by the Creatures, with commentary heavily implying that we will be seeing a Fire Ant/Cajun Crawdad grudge match sometime in the near future. WINNERS: Fire Ant and Green Ant (1 point) Match #5: The Infinite Gauntlet #1: Boomer Hatfield #2: Danjerhawk Unfortunately for Danjer, he went from being last year’s winner to being first eliminated this year, as Boomer had him pinned fairly quickly. ELIMINATED: Danjerhawk #3: Sonny DeFarge #4: Dasher Hatfield Dasher almost immediately clotheslined DeFarge over the top to eliminate him, then screamed at Boomer to eliminate himself. Boomer refused, and the father-son grudge match was on. ELIMINATED: Sonny DeFarge #5: Ice Cream Jr. Looks like Junior didn’t even get into the match proper, as he was dropkicked off the apron by Boomer. ELIMINATED: Ice Cream Jr. #6: Nytehawk Somehow, the Hawx seem to have caught a major nerfing, as Nyte was dispatched in the same way as Junior before him. ELIMINATED: Nytehawk #7: Kobald Dasher intimidated Kobald into exiting the ring of his own volition (though not eliminating himself), and the Prince of All Goblins took a seat in the crowd to watch the father-son grudge match and eat some popcorn. #8: Frantik Lured over by popcorn, Frantik joined Kobald in watching the match. #9: Fireman’s Carry Fray More watching of the father-son grudge match, as everyone learned from Junior and Nyte and were pretty content to leave the two of them to it. Everything Dasher and Boomer dished out, from a Yoshi Tonic from Boomer to a Jackhammer from Dasher, wasn’t enough to eliminate the other. #10: Cornelius Crummels #11: BLANK BLANK finally got everyone else up and away from the popcorn, persuading them all to charge the Hatfields en masse. This got Frantik and Crummels sent over the top rope and Kobald pinned, with BLANK following over the top rope not long after. ELIMINATED: Frantik ELIMINATED: Cornelius Crummels ELIMINATED: Kobald ELIMINATED: BLANK #12: Molly McCoy Fray was nearly eliminated, but landed on Frantik’s shoulders after sailing over the top rope, ending up in the bleachers (and surprisingly not eliminated), where he hid. Molly did not get involved in the family squabble, looking on as Dasher finally took his son out of the running. ELIMINATED: Boomer Hatfield #13: Volgar Boomer had to be held back from re-entering the ring, then caught a sucker punch from his dad. Volgar surprisingly came to Boomer’s aid, leaving Dasher begging for a timeout. #14: Snapmare Matt For those following the Crucible saga, you just might recognize this guy. On commentary, Sidney Bakabella passes off the presence of the CHIKARA-branded “enhancement talent” as keeping the costs down, but we all know better. #15: John Francis of Coronado Molly got into it with Volgar, attempting to put him to sleep and clinging to his back despite his attempts to shake her off. #16: Armbreaker Amir Amir, another from the Crucible, retrieved Fray from the bleachers, where the two joined with Matt to take on all comers. #17: Worker Ant Volgar managed to shake Molly for a few seconds, but she was right back on him. #18: Rick Roland Still seeking his pay, Roland immediately made a beeline for John Francis, while the Crucible trio targeted and eliminated Molly before dropping and dogpiling on Worker to send him out. ELIMINATED: Molly McCoy ELIMINATED: Worker Ant #19: Officer Warren Barksdale Barksdale was unfortunate enough to run straight into the Crucible trio, resulting in him being knocked out and eliminated. Meanwhile, John Francis eluded his former associate, sending him over the top rope. ELIMINATED: Officer Warren Barksdale ELIMINATED: Rick Roland #20: The Whisper Surprisingly, there was an impromptu alliance between Dasher, Whisper, and John Francis, which took out Volgar. This dissolved fairly quickly afterward, with Dasher attempting to take out his longtime rival, only for John Francis to reverse the attempt and send Dasher packing. ELIMINATED: Volgar ELIMINATED: Dasher Hatfield #21: Jawbreaker Josue Josue immediately joined with his Crucible brethren, and the four started looking under the ring while John Francis and Whisper fought. They soon settled on a strategy, with Matt loosening the top rope at one corner while the other three blocked everyone else’s view. #22: Oleg the Usurper #23: Bull James The Crucible quartet soon moved on to another turnbuckle and continued their sabotage, while Bull and Oleg squared off. #24: Unsocial Jordan And then Bull and Oleg decided to team. That would be interesting as a regular duo, I think. #25: Enzuigiri Evan Evan came in hot, eliminating Bull with a standing moonsault before joining his Crucible brethren. A four-way attack and subsequent dogpile got rid of Oleg. ELIMINATED: Bull James ELIMINATED: Oleg the Usurper #26: Hermit Crab Matt booted Hermit Crab’s head off and he got dogpiled as well, before the Crucible quintet returned to loosening the top rope. ELIMINATED: Hermit Crab John Francis, who had been left face-down on the mat at this point, soon attracted the attention of the Crucible quintet, with him being lifted by three of them into a powerslam from Evan... ...but they surprisingly decided against another dogpile, as the quintet lifted him back to his feet then moved off and let Whisper, who they had left completely untouched, eliminate him. ELIMINATED: John Francis #27: Shazza McKenzie Possibly seeing the threat before even getting into the match, McKenzie was able to drop the quintet back to a quartet by taking out Josue. ELIMINATED: Jawbreaker Josue #28: Razerhawk Another one who saw the threat, Razer made a beeline for the Crucible quartet, who had targeted Shazza and Unsocial Jordan after Josue’s elimination, taking both out of the match. ELIMINATED: Unsocial Jordan ELIMINATED: Shazza McKenzie #29: Duke “The Dumpster” Droese Razer unfortunately was next out of the match. (From what I can find, it was over the top rope, but it happened offscreen.) ELIMINATED: Razerhawk Droese protected himself from the Crucible quartet, taking out two in the process. The other two soon continued working on the top rope, which they had nearly detached at that point. ELIMINATED: Fireman’s Carry Fray ELIMINATED: Snapmare Matt #30: Hallowicked #31: El Hijo del Ice Cream Avenging his fallen brethren, Amir made Droese tap out, then got kicked over the near-nonexistent top rope by Hallowicked. ELIMINATED: Duke “The Dumpster” Droese ELIMINATED: Armbreaker Amir #32: Solo Darling Hijo at least lasted longer than Junior, but was made to tap out by Whisper. ELIMINATED: El Hijo del Ice Cream Evan picked up both Solo and Whisper, possibly attempting to protect both, but Hallowicked saw his opportunity and kicked Evan...except, probably thanks to the loosened top rope, not only did Hallowicked send Evan, Solo, and Whisper out, but his own momentum carried him over and out as well! ELIMINATED: Solo Darling ELIMINATED: The Whisper ELIMINATED: Enzuigiri Evan ELIMINATED: Hallowicked And then... #33: Ophidian Yup, Ophidian strolled on in, didn’t have to deal with anyone, and won the match thanks to the total party kill. WINNER: Ophidian Post-match, Boomer returned to the ring and called his father out, and Dasher returned to “Bad Dad” chants and a random countdown for some reason. (The following transcribed by FAN user lildude8218) Dasher: "Listen here, you little disappointment. I've wasted 12 years fighting for this. Fighting for these people and it was nothing but failure after failure. It wasn't until I started fighting for myself that I became a respectable champion. And until I get that through your thick skull you'll be nothing but a disappointment. You won't deserve to carry my bags, you don't deserve to wrestle in my ring, you don't deserve my last name, and you don't deserve to be wearing my mask." Boomer: "My entire life I've looked up to you. My dad taught me about sportsmanship, following the rules, and hard work. When I look at you I don't see those values anymore. I see a LIAR, I see a CHEATER, I see a BULLY. As far as I'm concerned, you're not my dad." Dasher attacked Boomer, and Bakabella intervened to calm them all down. Unlike certain past DoFs, he wasn’t about to tolerate their fighting and made a ruling then and there: on May 26th, it’ll be Dasher vs. Boomer in a Lucha de Apuesta (Mask vs. Mask match). Dasher then kicked his son in a very personal area before locking on a sleeperhold, and the tecnicos emptied out of the locker room to bail Boomer out. (For those of us following the Crucible saga, an episode of Heralds and Harbingers is in the post-credits. Enjoy!)