#and will fight google translate for being useless

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 3.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I had someone on Ao3 ask me about how often this will get updated and my answer is that I don't know. My IRL can be pretty unpredictable and I do deal with depression on a daily basis. I'm going to do my best to update this while still working on my Leon Kennedy fic, Unlikely Salvation! Please do bear with me as I try to figure out where I want this story to go!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2

The lab was hustling with scientists, the Wakandan sunrise filtering through the enormous windows with an intensity that made Bucky eyes hurt as he stood by the cryostasis pod where the Winter Soldier would soon be housed.

The whole trek to the lab had been uneventful: not once did the soldier fight back. It seemed that the failure to complete her mysterious mission had caused her to shut down, and Bucky was tense as she was strapped down with multiple magnetic cuffs like the ones he and Steve used back in the quinjet.

Even with the super soldier serum coursing through her veins and whatever other enhancements she might naturally have or that HYDRA might have given her would prove useless. She was strapped down nice and tight.

There was a machine hovering over her knee, the tissue and bone beneath crunching and grinding as it was fusing back together, her expression unchanging despite her kneecap and patella being exposed. The air was beginning to smell of singed flesh and hair, and Bucky felt slightly nauseous.

Bucky hated knowing how much damage his arm could inflict; how unforgiving his grip was and how hard it was to regulate the strength at times so he would break yet another glass just by holding it and trying to take a drink.

And it had been so easy to crush her flesh like it was nothing.

"Howard? Howard, oh god...oh god, Anthony...!"

Bucky clenched his jaw, swallowing harshly as Maria Stark's voice whispered to him, and he was broken out of his trance by Shuri announcing.

"Once we are finished with her knee, I would like to begin deconstructing her mind. If efforts are fruitless, I would like for you to activate her again if possible. We might be able to figure out what her previous orders were and her intentions, history, anything that would prove useful to the eradication of HYDRA."

Steve frowned, asking as T'Challa simply stayed quiet, observing the Winter Soldier as she sat complacent and quiet; seemingly not hearing a word that they were saying.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? What if it doesn't work?"

Shuri replied confidently, flicking her eyes over to Steve before gesturing towards Bucky with a nod of her head.

"We will have to reset completely and start over. Sergeant Barnes' rehabilitation was easy due to the flaws within his programming that HYDRA was unable to remedy. However, we do not know what improvements have been made to HYDRA's algorithm since then. It will be challenging to separate the core person that this woman was before her programming, but not impossible."

T'Challa then asked, raising an eyebrow at Shuri as she shined a light into the Winter Soldier's eyes, taking down notes and recording her vitals.

"What if you are unable to separate the identity from the programming?"

Shuri sighed deeply, shrugging.

"She will have to be built from the ground up. This woman will be like a completely clean slate down to a new name if we are unable to figure out who she was before. I am already running the best biometric identification programs within our arsenal to figure out who she could have been. I would assume that Stark is also doing so?"

Steve nodded, replying as he watched the soldier closely as her eyes inconspicuously flicked to a scientist that readying a syringe.

"Yes, he's also got Nat looking through the database that we downloaded and coursing through any previous databanks we obtained from previous HYDRA raids."

Shuri then turned to Bucky, making him quirk an eyebrow up slightly as she regarded him with a raised brow.

"What is your take on this, Sergeant Barnes?"

All eyes were on him, and Bucky sighed slightly he stared down the soldier, watching the way her brow began to tense slightly the closer the scientist got. The second the syringe touched her skin, the soldier began to freak out.

Due to the cuffs restricting her movement, she resorted to smacking her back against the chair over and over, hissing and yelling loudly as the scientist jolted and stumbled back. T'Challa immediately shoved her down, Shuri exclaiming profanities as she snatched the syringe from the scientist and shoved it into the soldier's neck.

The soldier hissed and yanked her neck away, breaking the needle, and Shuri groaned, gesturing with her hands wildly.

"Really? Now I'm going to have to dig that out. You make things harder for yourself!"

Okoye quipped, her spear pointing towards the soldier as Steve and Bucky stood tensed and ready should the Soldier somehow get out of her binds.

"How primitive! She is like a wild animal!"

The sedative began to kick in, the woman's bucking gradually stopping, and she went limp within the chair, head rolling to the side as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Bucky's heart was racing slightly with adrenaline, and Steve observed.

"Seems like she knew what the syringe meant."

T'Challa frowned deeply, leaning back and brushing his hands off slightly as he glanced back at Steve.

"An important but grave detail: she must be remembering...or perhaps, it is a recent memory."

Shuri plucked the broken needle from the soldier's neck, humming.

"I will take it as a good sign that there is at least someone beneath the rubble. I promise you, Mr. Rogers, that I will do my best to find her."

Steve nodded before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

"You going to be alright?"

Bucky glanced over at Steve, muttering truthfully.

"I don't want to do this, but I'm only doing it for you. I'm worried that she is going to somehow lead HYDRA to me and it's gonna be a shit-show all over again."

Steve was firm, declaring quietly.

"You know I wouldn't let that happen. I'd have to miss that big head of yours again."

"You're a goddamn punk, you know that?"

Bucky couldn't keep the smile from gracing the corners of his lips, and Steve smiled at him softly before hugging him firmly and backing away.

"Alright, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll check in periodically; let you all know what we find on our side of the world."

T'Challa hummed, walking towards Steve.

"I will accompany you. I would like to discuss some things before your departure."

Steve nodded, and the two men walked out of Shuri's lab. Bucky turned back around, making a slight face as Shuri cut away pieces of the woman's clothing, revealing a black and tight-fitting compression camisole.

There were numerous scars and marks all over her body, some jagged and unforgiving while others were clean and precise. Shuri hummed softly, muttering as her fingers grazed a jagged scar that ran beneath the woman's neck.

"The things this woman must have been through...HYDRA is truly despicable."

Bucky couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even think outside of the boiling hatred and rage that was beginning to consume him at the sight of the gruesome scars that covered her upper body. Bucky could only assume that it got worse beneath her uncut clothing, and he had to bite his tongue as hard as he could.

Whip scars, burn marks, mutilated flesh that never regenerated, her body was a canvas; a horrendous painting that HYDRA had taken delight in decorating. This was more than just punishment, it was a warning.

A warning that disobedience will not be tolerated.

How many times did they slash her throat for the scar to become so prominent? How many times did they burn her skin to the point that the serum couldn't work to regenerate? How often did they beat and prod and jab and shoot and stab at her until she was too weak to fight back?

In a morbid way, Bucky took it as a sign that despite her being activated and still dangerous, her history of resistance let HYDRA know that the person that used to be there still existed.

There was someone still underneath the rubble, as Shuri had put it, and Bucky hoped that Shuri could pull her out.

But even so, would it help? Would it be right to let this woman have to live with the memories and nightmares of what had happened to her? Was it right to subject her mind to the torture of HYDRA even after being rescued?

Was it right to try despite knowing how traumatized and desolated the woman was going to be once she was free? Hell, there were times were Bucky could still smell the scent of the cologne his Handler wore when punishing Bucky, and now Bucky couldn't stand to smell the scent without being pushed into a panic.

"Don't worry, White Wolf. I am going to do what I can to help this woman."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

His voice was choked, cracking slightly as he rushed to respond, and Shuri tilted her head at him, asking Bucky with a curious gaze.

"Then what is it that plagues you?"

"I just...is it right to do this when she's gonna have to live with the memories and the nightmares?"

Bucky felt ashamed by the frown that crossed Shuri's face, but was slightly relieved to know that the disappointment that flashed within her eyes was not directed at him.

"I understand the concern, and I understand that it will not be easy for her...but that is why you are here. You have survived HYDRA and are free of the programming they worked hard to instill within your mind. With living proof that persistence yields peace, I truly think that she may become a person again...it will just take time and a lot of work."

Bucky nodded, and Shuri was quiet for a moment before she murmured.

"While it may not seem fair to save her...it is truly a tragedy to deny her the chance that HYDRA never gave her."

The words left a profoundly bitter taste within Bucky's mouth, and he could distinctly taste copper from him biting into his cheek too hard. Shaking his head, Bucky looked away from the woman as Shuri began to assess her further.

"Reactivating her will come with a risk. I would only be able to activate her, but I don't have the knowledge to deactivate, if that's even possible. When I was activated...the longer I was out of cryostasis and hadn't been wiped, the easier it was to resist the programming. I don't know if it will be the same for her."

"As I said: reactivation will allow us the ability to communicate with her. She has not been wiped, it would seem, so it is possible that this woman knows something."

Shuri grabbed a butterfly needle and a vial, putting on gloves and tying a tourniquet around the woman's arm so that she could find a vein. Once she found it, Shuri inserted the butterfly needle, taping it to the soldier's skin.

"I am now going to collect bloodwork to run DNA diagnostics and input the data into the biometric identification program to see if we may be able to identify her this way. I'm also going to do some testing to see what serum she might have been injected with to trace it back to the creator."

Bucky nodded and sat back, watching and listening intently as Shuri described what she was doing and what the programs did on a deeper, intellectual manner. While Bucky was listening and trying to absorb the information, he couldn't stop glancing over at the scars that lined the woman's body.

Horrific couldn't even describe it. It made him sick to his stomach. If Shuri noticed that Bucky was slightly distracted, she gracefully didn't comment on it. Instead, Shuri tried to distract him the best that she could while the machine she was operating was taking a scan of the woman's brain.

After a moment, Shuri hummed, a perplexed look on her face as she sauntered around the hologram of the woman's brain, tendrils of red seeming to pulse all over the organ, and Shuri's brows furrowed as she thought to herself. Bucky asked with an intrigued look on his face.

"What is that?"

"This is a digital recreation of the woman's brain as well as the areas most affected by HYDRA's programming."

Shuri looked proud as she began to move the hologram around, zooming in and out of different areas and lobes before breaking it down into layers.

"Thanks to the work that I did for you, I was able to develop an AI that was capable of identifying HYDRA's programming, as well as detect the intensity and depth that it runs. It gives possible solutions and suggestions on what to work on first...and tells me when something activates the program."

Shuri's voice seemed to lower slightly, side-eyeing him for a moment before she looked back at the hologram, but Bucky didn't notice. Bucky was floored, in awe at the ingenuity of the AI that he couldn't help but to whistle lowly.

"That's incredible, Shuri."

"Please, compared to her, you were like a walk in the park."

Shuri waved him off before she hummed, pointing to a area that was largely red within the hologram.

"However, unlike your programming, her programming is much more complex. There are multiple layers where the programming intertwines with core pieces and memories, which will make unraveling the ties difficult. There might be parts of her that will not be salvageable."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head as he replied gently.

"Like you said: from the ground and up if needed."

Shuri smiled widely at Bucky, her eyes crinkling as she teased gently, pointing at him.

"See, now you are beginning to understand."

Bucky rolled his eyes before he asked as Shuri began to work, a screen popping up and flashing slightly.

"So, what is that?"

"If we are going to salvage as much as we can of the core person she was before she became a Winter Soldier, we will have to analyze every piece of her psyche. Unfortunately, I cannot do much with HYDRA's program basically firewalling me. It is like they added some sort of encryption to her so that any attempt of undoing their work would be unsuccessful or too risky."

Bucky tilted his head, becoming slightly confused as he pointed to the red parts of the woman's brain.

"Is that why those areas are red like that?"

"Yes. If you look closely, it is almost as though these red areas are wrapping around the parts that are otherwise untouched by HYDRA's program. If we can get past the encryptions, we might be able to get through."

Bucky nodded along, crossing his arms before he glanced down at the woman, asking apprehensively.

"Are you going to make me activate her?"

"For now, no. I do not think that it will be necessary. All I need to do is bypass the encryptions, break them down, and then I will begin to root out the memories with the most significance to her."

Shuri spared Bucky a glance, relaying to him honestly.

"If possible, I would like to keep you from doing so because of the mental repercussions activating her will have. I will entrust the process to Okoye if activation is the only option we have left."

Bucky shook his head, murmuring to Shuri as he glanced down at the woman again as her face scrunched slightly.

"No, I'll do it...let's just hope that I don't have to."

Shuri became quiet, staring Bucky down for a moment before she turned away and suggested.

"Perhaps you should see the Captain off. Breaking through the encryption will take time, and I can tell that you are starting to become brain-dead listening to me."

Bucky chuckled before bowing his head slightly, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not upset your brother by leaving you with her by yourself."

Shuri made a face at him, the expression reminding him of Steve pre-serum.

"Do you think I am not capable of defending myself? This is my territory, white boy."

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but I've been on the receiving end of your brother's foot."

Shuri barked out a laugh, and Okoye made her presence known by snorting while a couple of the Dora Milaje stood by the entrance to Shuri's lab.

"At least he knows what he would be up against. Do not worry, Sergeant Barnes, I will stand watch. The Captain is about to make his departure."

Bucky nodded before expressing his gratitude, nodding gently to Shuri.

"Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

Bucky turned and left quickly, his steps quick and urgent as he arrived outside. However, the quinjet was already flying away, making Bucky purse his lips. T'Challa's voice greeted him, making the man look over at the King as he spoke.

"You just missed him."

"He's always running off on me somehow, so I'm not entirely surprised."

T'Challa chuckled slightly, before he glanced over at Bucky.

"How are you feeling about all of this?"

Bucky glanced over at T'Challa, regarding him with an exhausted look before he turned back front, watching Steve leave again.

"I'm worried, honestly. There's so many things that could go wrong. What if HYDRA is trying to find me and was using her to do it? HYDRA must know that the Avengers have been raiding the old facilities that aren't in use anymore, so why not leave her to be found and taken in?"

T'Challa hummed, clasping his hands together as he replied.

"Let them try. They will not make it very far."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly before he murmured.

"It's...strange, honestly...seeing this from an outside perspective. I knew that this was serious, but I wasn't aware of how bad it actually was. Standing on the other side of the glass...it's almost poignant."

T'Challa nodded, replying with a hum.

"When my father was killed and I was under the assumption that it was you in Vienna, a deep hatred rooted within me for HYDRA. While I understand now that it was Zemo's schemes...that hatred for HYDRA has never wavered. Even now when knowing the dangers that lie beyond those doors, I still hope for peace."

Bucky was quiet, listening intently to T'Challa's words as the king spoke, his brown eyes downcast as he continued.

"Nobody deserves to be subjected to such horrific torture."

Bucky wasn't sure on how to respond. Instead, the man just nodded and took a moment to breathe before he settled, glancing over at T'Challa.

"You're right, and if we have to start from scratch, then I'm willing to help how I can...both with rehabilitating her and eradicating HYDRA once and for all."

T'Challa nodded quietly before turning to walk back towards the lab, suggesting over his shoulder.

"You should get some rest...and maybe put that on ice."

At the mention of the wound on his temple, it began to pulse, and Bucky just sighed.

"I'll sleep it off...and thank you for listening."

T'Challa didn't respond, but a smile graced the king's lips as he disappeared through the doors. Bucky's shoulders sagged slightly, and he rubbed his temple gently, wincing when he pressed down to hard.

He had to admit: that woman could give a mean right-hook.

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STORY NOTES: Bucky, T'Challa, Steve, and Shuri are all within her lab with the Winter Soldier. So far, the Winter Soldier has made no move. Shuri is using a machine that heals and reconstructs the soldier's knee, and Bucky is perturbed by the damage he had inflicted. He reflects on the hardship it took to regulate the strength of his grip in his metal arm; reminiscing about the difficulty of clutching a glass of water.

Shuri then tells the group that she would like to begin deconstructing the Winter Soldier's mind to get an understanding of her intentions, and suggests activating the Winter Soldier again should Shuri's efforts fail. Steve is apprehensive, and Shuri voices that if neither efforts are successful, then she will have to completely reboot the Winter Soldier.

Shuri elaborates that she is currently attempting to figure out the identity of the Winter Soldier, and makes a remark that she hopes Tony Stark is also doing the same. Steve comments that Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, is also combing through the databank Bucky had downloaded, as well as previously recovered databanks.

When a scientist attempts to inject a sedative into her, the Winter Soldier begins to resist; causing a scene and consequently breaking the needle of the sedative within her neck. Steve observed that the woman understood what the syringe meant, and T'Challa points out that it might be a sign that she is remembering.

Before Steve's departure, Bucky voices his fear that HYDRA is using her to get to him, and Steve reassures Bucky that he won't let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Steve exits with T'Challa, and Bucky and Shuri are left alone within the lab. Shuri begins to remove a bit of the woman's clothing, and more scars are revealed.

Bucky becomes upset by the sight of the scars, understanding what they meant, and Bucky begins to become apprehensive about saving the woman. Shuri reassures Bucky that what they are doing is right. Later, Shuri shows Bucky a digital rendition of the Winter Soldier's brain and explains what she is going to do in order to save the woman's core identity.

Shuri comments that Bucky should see Steve off, and though Bucky tries to get to Steve before he leaves, he is unsuccessful. Instead, he meets with T'Challa. They begin to converse with each other, Bucky revealing his concerns, and T'Challa reassures him that HYDRA would not make it far into Wakanda if they attempted to retrieve him. Bucky makes a final thought on the woman and reflects on her strength. End scene.

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @tilldeathripsusapart

[garutime]

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Idol! Zhong Chenle x Idol! Fem reader

Aclarations: A stage name for the female character "Hiro" will be used at one point.

Sipnosis: Through a simple interaction, they ended up in a Deep Fake porn video

Warning +18!: Mention of pornographic sites, mention of Deep Fake (Porn video site where they use the face of famous people to put in already existing sexual videos), video without consent, everything is based on a video, nicknames (Slut, whore, useless, bitch, desperate), reader called Chenle "dog", medium humiliation, medium denigration, blows (Pussy, ass), anal and vaginal penetration, cum inside, mention of squirt, unprotected sex, F oral, rough treatment, rough, dom Chenle

Words: 3.1k

Note: I'm using google translator so all the blame on him

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Life as an idol is difficult, perhaps too tiring to the point that made her question why she chose that path; She liked to sing, not so much to dance, she could have chosen another job that involved singing without being on stage daily, it had been a long week in Korea, between the shows and about two awards they managed to bring the hard devastated week to an end.

She was not going to take into account that instead of sleeping, she spent her time on her cell phone and did not sleep at all, that is why the week seemed so long to her, she needed some time to enjoy. She had finally arrived home and did not do much, she put food in her pets' bowl and went upstairs to go to bed, even though her body weighed from tiredness she lay on her side and grabbed her cell phone to be able to scroll on Twitter, after having uploaded some stories to Instagram and thanked for the award but now, it was her time to rest.

Her Twitter was based on fights; She was quite entertained by how people fought on a social network and from his private account it was easy to see everything, from how his own fandom fought with others to the silly fights of who was better; They were funny to read one day when he was tired so he scrolled through the social network reading until he found a tweet that caught his attention.

"Zhong Chenle of Nct Dream and Hiro of Push have interaction"

Below that little informative text from a fan account there was a video of the two of them a few days ago at the awards ceremony, just as they were walking they had collided and when they looked at each other, they bowed to apologize, their hands raised in a greeting from a distance and then each went their own way, she didn't think it was strange or see romance in it but it seemed like the fans were going crazy, commenting about how they made a cute couple, that they confirm, my parents and many other things that she didn't understand and didn't want to understand.

It was mere curiosity when she saw the "#Hiche" in that post, assuming it was the ship between the two of them and that she ignored how badly their names were put together to just click, opening herself to the sick mind of the fans seeing edits, some that seemed real and others that did seem fake, it was obviously all too fake since the most she had of Chenle was his cell phone number and they didn't even talk, she couldn't open her mouth in surprise with each thing she saw until she searched too much, going too far down to a particular tweet that made her frown.

"Nct Dream's Chenle fucking Push's Hiro, Deep Fake"

Below that tweet there was a link to the site's official website, she knew that Deep Fake was a pornographic site where you found a lot of sexual or racy videos where the person's face was changed to that of a famous person, the idea of her being there made her cheeks burn with shame, mainly because there would be a lot of people who wanted to see her that way and who had the time to do something as depraved as that, she felt a small knot in her stomach as she settled face down on her bed, her legs moving anxiously at the new information.

She knew she wouldn't lose anything by clicking on the link so she entered the video, it was all fake and even on the page itself they warned her, the cover of the video was the interaction between them, that moment where they were looking at each other and moving their hands which made her frown, she had expected something more as a cover; A teaser of the video but nothing, which made his finger shake as he clicked on the video, starting a video of just 3 minutes.

— Shit... — She mumbled under my breath as soon as the video started, my eyes opening wide as I clearly saw his face there.

She thought it would look faker but in the video, there she was lying on the bed with her legs open, the girl's physique was almost identical to hers and her face was perfectly placed on that of the girl, the man's hands ran over her thighs while he looked at her soaked panties until the man left a kiss on her knee, showing himself as Chenle and yes, the image and situation seemed real while everything was happening which made her eyes open and stay quiet, she was too focused.

The man's hands kneaded the soft thighs while he kept his gaze fixed on the girl on the bed as if they were intimate, as if it were a romantic moment but it all ended when Chenle open-palmed the girl's poor pussy that made her moan and throw her head back while her hips rose at the blow that wasn't even direct because her panties were in the middle of the game.

— You're embarrassing — The man's voice was identical to Chenle's, generated by AI surely while speaking in Chinese which made it more exciting.

The palm fell back on the girl's pussy making her moan as her legs opened even more, three of the man's fingers began to give soft but beautiful blows against the girl's clitoris, giving stronger and softer blows against the sensitive bud making the girl under him writhe in search of more contact, in search of more than those little blows that made every fiber of her body tremble.

— You're being desperate, you look like a whore — Chenle's tone came out strong, almost as if he were scolding her but the underlying nuance of provocation was undeniable.

— Chenle... — The girl moaned lowly as she shifted in bed, seeking more contact from the man who seemed to refuse to give it to her.

— Are you going to beg now? Weren't you taught to have dignity? — He asked amused as his hands moved up to knead her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh and his nails marking the skin.

Her face turned bright red when he mentioned that but she continued acting the same, like a whore just like Zhong said and he seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

— Take off those panties — He ordered and the girl quickly moved, pulling off her panties and giving them to the man.

Zhong grabbed them, instantly feeling how wet they were from his constant groping and under the woman's attentive gaze, he licked her panties, his long tongue giving them a lick so he could taste his woman's sweet taste that made him hum happily.

— You're lucky I like you — He said as he threw the panties somewhere in the room.

He didn't wait for her response or some pitiful moan as he decided to bury three of his fingers in her wet heat, he made a mocking movement when his three fingers sank so easily into that tight pussy, it was surprising how he had her dripping for him but even so, he began to give hard blows inside her vaginal cavity, his fingers entered with force only to come out and penetrate her even harder which made her almost scream in pleasure.

— Ah~!, Chenle... — She moaned in that pitiful way that he liked so much, he liked the sight of her pouty lips, silently asking him to destroy her.

And he was a weak man, weak enough to obey her silence and just deepen his thrusts with his fingers, making it easier and easier to handle the situation due to the constant fluids that wet his fingers like waterfalls but he didn't look upset, in fact, he enjoyed it as his fingers separated inside her, in a scissor shape that made her moans louder. He bent down between her legs, enough to start licking her clit like a hungry dog, he wasn't even thinking about breathing as he licked and sucked, his fingers going in and out with a need for her to cum, in him, in his mouth, on his cock.

— You're a fucking dog — The girl commented or rather critical according to Chenle who didn't like the comment.

He was the one in charge there and said nasty things to her so being compared to a dog (even though he was acting like one), made all movement stop as he pulled away from that cute pussy and pulled his fingers out, only to give her a loud smack that echoed after her moan as she writhed at the lack of pleasure.

— Hold on bitch — He ordered as he leaned down to catch her kisses in a needy kiss.

There was a scene change, the kiss scene changed to Chenle on top of Hiro, the girl's legs awkwardly on the sides of Zhong's hips while he was between her legs, their hips colliding over and over as he fucked her like a dog in heat, just like she had said. Her moans were the ones that were heard the most as her pussy was basically being destroyed, the thick and long cock buried perfectly in her pussy, hitting her walls only to pull out and hit her again with a new intensity that left her breathless to give way to a moan, her lips in a constant pout that she knew her man liked.

— Wasn't I being a fucking dog Hiro? Look at you, you're like a bitch in heat letting your man fuck you — He said mockingly, his blows didn't stop, they only increased as he let her feel it.

Chenle didn't hold her hips or legs, letting her body rise and fall like the doll she was, his hands were simply resting on her knees, not grabbing her or using her to be able to fuck her better, a place to rest his hands while his hips did all the work, each stroke was different, he never had a rhythm, never at the same time or the same intensity but always with the same desire.

— Chenle... — She moaned as she foolishly grabbed the bed rail to try and hold on.

— What? Are you going to cum already? We've not even been at it for ten minutes — He moaned through a particularly strong thrust.

Even with his complaints, knowing that she was about to cum motivated him, making him grab her hips now making her feel all of herself, his thrusts deeper while this time, he focused on hitting that sweet spot over and over again making it simply impossible for the girl beneath him to handle him, he could feel her walls tightening around him and he could only let out low moans, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of believing that he was doing his job right.

— Chenle! — It was glorious to hear her name in the middle of her orgasm, she knew how much that turned him on.

He pulled out of her, wanting to see the show her pussy would give him as he watched her hips move in search of more, her pussy releasing a good stream from her hole that made him smile, he expected more but the simple act of making her squirt for him, of giving her a squirt was enough for him.

— You even squirted?... Shit, how long has it been since you've been fucked? — Chenle mocked but the mere sight of having made that pussy squirt made his still hardened cock get even harder.

He didn't care that she was still recovering from her orgasm, he simply got back between her legs, seeing how he was going to accommodate her now until he lifted her legs to the point that her knees were level with her head, her body stretched out and also crushed by the bigger Zhong who placed his hands on the bottom of her knees, leaving her legs motionless and pathetic for his use.

— Chenle... A lot — She moaned weakly, as if she wanted to hide how much of a slut she was.

— Come on, don't be a child; Milk me with that pussy — Chenle ordered, rolling his eyes at the complaints of his woman beneath him.

She didn't hesitate to enter again, which made him let out a low moan as he penetrated her hard and fast, stretching her body to its limits as he sought his release, his cock was throbbing but he just didn't want to release his load in that used pussy; she understood, not many wanted to use that used pussy, neither did he.

— Your face distracts me from my orgasm — He said as he grabbed her shirt, a short shirt that fit perfectly over those tits but finally, he lifted it up to her head, causing her entire face to be covered by the shirt and he could only see that little body.

His slut's moans grew louder as he fucked her, it seemed like he treated her worse; He liked it even more for what followed, watching those tits jump happily with each thrust which made him gasp, it was a good view that simply made him release all his semen inside that little pussy, he buried himself deep wanting her to take every drop of his semen like the good slut she was.

There was another change of scene, now there was no longer the view of the bed, but the view of a piece of furniture and a wall where Chenle was leaning, his penis proudly raised while being serviced by the slut who spread her legs wide so that the camera could capture her pussy full of his semen, her tongue passed all over his phallus while she looked into his eyes with that almost puppy look she always had.

— Ah, you know how to do that well, don't you? — He asked rhetorically while patting her head — How many have you sucked to be able to suck like that, right, slut?

That comment seemed to excite her because she replaced her tongue all over her mouth, putting Chenle's phallus in her mouth to move her head back and forth which made him moan, this time he couldn't hold back his moans as he moaned freely, enjoying the good work she could give but he got tired quickly, he always got tired of any attention given to him for a long time.

— Get up Hiro, with your back to me — He ordered and in a few seconds he already had the girl turning her back.

He took the time to travel the curves of her back, her waist and her plump butt that was his target, so without hesitating about his strength or her weight, he grabbed the girl by the legs and lifted her, earning a small moan as she stretched her arm back and grabbed him by the neck, she was afraid of falling but Chenle knew how to maneuver her, her back against his chest while he hugged the back of her legs, making them stick to his chest and also being wide open for the camera.

— Calm down, if you get tense it will be worse — He murmured under his breath, leaving a kiss on her cheek as he adjusted her to the height of his cock.

It was glory when he was finally able to penetrate her tight anus, his hips began to move frantically against her, making his thrusts short but fast releasing moans of pleasure from her, Chenle's grip was strong and secure, making it look like her pussy was throbbing and throbbing to be penetrated by something but he simply didn't pay attention to it, plus he couldn't while he grabbed her.

His back was leaning against the wall, a way to support himself while also holding the girl's weight, his balls swinging as his hips hit against that ass, he dedicated himself to leaving kisses on her neck while he fucked her, well, they weren't exactly kisses, but red marks that would remind her who they were from until he came in her tight ass, allowing himself to bury himself in her deep to ensure his semen.

— Chenle — She complained with a frown when he came so well in her without worrying about her orgasm.

— You're acting desperate again — He criticized her as he released her, leaving her on the floor.

But Chenle was a good man and besides he wanted to be in that ass again so he just pinned the girl against the wall, letting her balls get hard against the cold wall while he stood behind her at a small distance watching her anus throb as he released his semen, he indulged himself by slapping her lovely ass while he watched her.

— Come on, fuck me, get your orgasm — He invited her, slapping her ass again.

He didn't have to give any more orders for her to settle against the wall, her hips raised high as her ass rubbed against Chenle's cock until she finally let him in, both of them letting out a moan as she began to move on his phallus, fucking herself with Chenle's cock like a sex toy or fucking Chenle just as he had asked her to, Zhong's constant spanking generating a jolt in her ass that made him moan, he was delighted.

The girl moaned as she continued, her hips moving to let the cock go deep until her orgasm simply began to come and she became slow which made him roll his eyes as he grabbed her hips and hard, began to thrust into her, slamming her against the wall with each thrust.

— You're useless, you can't even fuck yourself — Chenle said as he reached out his hand to squeeze one of her hardened nipples.

It was enough for the slut to cum, unfortunately she didn't release the streams he was expecting but the flow did fall down her thighs in a sign of how pleased she was, he sure knew how to fuck her.

A change of scene happened, the last one where Chenle had put his cock on the girl's tits, rubbing himself over and over again while she licked the tip like a kitten until he released all his semen on her face, making her moan vaguely when the liquid wet her face, chest and breasts but she only smiled apparently pleased with being full of the man's semen.

— Good whore — He congratulated her as he buried his fingers in her mouth, letting her feel his semen.

And there the video ended, leaving her with her mouth open and her pussy shamefully soaked, it was depraved that she liked that fake video of her with the boy and also, that she would like to be treated like shit but the humidity of her panties revealed how horny she was and she could only enter the messages on her cell phone and look for the contact of the man who had fucked her so good in the video.

"I'm Hiro from Push, did you see the video?" She dared to send to Zhōng's number, hoping not to sound weird.

"Yeah, that shit is sick" Was her only response from the Chinese.

"Do you want to imitate it?" It didn't take long for that proposition to reach her that made her smile.

Of course she wanted to.

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

putting the google translate version of the Sa and Vita convo here bc the official translation is a bit confusing

Moriarty: Haha, hahahaha! Moriarty: What a great show! Moriarty: How does it feel to lose all your efforts? Got bitten by your own dog! Moriarty: Hey, you don't have a talent for comedy, do you? Sa: ... Moriarty: That last blow from the sky looked really painful! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with the wrong people? Moriarty: Haha, I feel really good! I haven’t watched such an interesting show for a long time. Moriarty: It is countless times more exciting than the version I originally conceived! Sa: ... Moriarty: Oh? You're just going to roll up your tail and run away? Moriarty: Well, given the nature of your “parasitic plant”, Moriarty: if you curl up your roots and hide in the depths of the Sea of Quanta for a few tens of thousands of years, you'll be able to make a comeback sooner or later. Moriarty: Only a human being would let his own damn pride get in the way and miss a chance to make a comeback... Moriarty: ...Hmm? Vita: I'm sorry to interrupt your pleasant conversation. Vita: How do you do, our Creator God? Vita: Oh, I forgot. We just saw each other. Sa: ... Vita: What, are you surprised to see me here? Vita: That unconvincing fake death performance earlier shouldn't be able to deceive your all-knowing and omnipotent "eyes", right? Vita: Or is that eye, as I suspected, not protecting against the presence of the “Ark”? Sa: ... Sa: ...Authority. Moriarty: Oh! So you can talk. Vita: That's right. Like the fly buzzing around you, I used the disguise of an Ark administrator to get past your guards and find you. Moriarty: You're all fighting amongst yourselves, but still don't forget to slander me? What a touching mother-daughter bond. Vita: If you had been able to put away a little bit of your arrogance and pay the minimum attention to this fly, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to come here in person—— Vita: ...to receive all your authority.

Sa: ... Moriarty: Haha, that's an unexpected twist! I didn't realize there was a hidden secret at the end of the show! Moriarty: It’s worth my while that I took the big gamble to come here so that I can enjoy this masterpiece in the upper class seats. Vita: Sigh... You pushy guy, do you really know what you are talking about? Vita: Most of your data has been shattered by that pillar of light, and the remnants left here will soon disperse on their own. Paying so much just to see a show? Moriarty: Of course, Miss Agent. I've never been so calm, so satisfied. What better feeling is there than to witness the end of a revenge drama? Moriarty: I'd give anything for fun... even if it didn't do me any good. Vita: ...Your comment reminds me of someone. Vita: Coincidentally, when I was "hitchhiking" with Fu Hua, I happened to catch a glimpse of a memory related to him and the self-satisfying ending. Vita: He was a world leader, but he only gambled with everyone's life; and in the end, he exchanged his own demise for a wishful "self-revenge". ..... Vita: Do you think this is called "different paths leading to the same destination", backup of "Otto Apocalypse"? Moriarty: Sincere thanks to you, Miss Agent, for bringing me useless information. I'd say you and “Sa” are cut from the same cloth. Vita: I have surpassed her.. The fact that I am here is the best proof, isn't it? I'll never make the same mistake as She did, and I'll go after true freedom. Sa: Freedom… is this what you really want? Or is it just because… you ask for it but don’t get it? Sa: The so-called “freedom” and “nothingness” are synonymous words. Vita: What about you? You have swollen so much that you can hardly move, have you really gained any “reality”? Sa: …Purusha, is me. Moriarty: Hahaha, is that why you sank into the “sea” in the first place? Moriarty: You have all-knowing and all-powerful eyes, but you can't even see yourself clearly. Haha! Our great Creator God is actually a blind god! Sa: Gods are blind in sight... Sa: Mortals are blind in the heart. Vita: Oh, you are quite confident when you say that—— Vita: Why don't you use these against the enemy with the “Eighth Sense”? Vita: He's your arch-enemy, isn't he? Sa: Mortals aren’t enemies. Sa: Just a pebble in the road. Vita: ... Vita: Well, congratulations. After all, your feet, it seems, are bleeding on these pebbles? Sa: ...That has nothing to do with them. Vita: But it’s about me. Sa: … Sa: [Agent], you are not an ordinary person. You have exceeded the limits of [expansion]. Moriarty: Oh, How to say it, how to say it? It turns out you will also become a rotten machine like her in the future? Moriarty: That’s a really rotten future, hahahaha! Sa: …the only freedom of god is also the only nothingness of mortals. Sa: The world is my representation, and the world is my will. Sa: The so-called “Godhood”... God was born because of me, and I died because of God. Vita: I think this sentence should be said the other way around. Vita: [I live because of God, and God dies because of me.] Vita: Do you suddenly feel better? Moriarty: What a pity! My God did not die because of me! Moriarty: Oh, no, wait. My “God” is already you all? Moriarty: A good death, a wonderful death! It’s a pity I can’t stick a cross in you all! Sa: …getting carried away. Ignorance is indeed the greatest sin of mortals. Sa: No mortal has ever killed a god. Sa: Only [Gods] can.

Sa: [Agent]... Sa: One day, you will also find your own executioner. Moriarty: Oh, oh! It seems that compared to ordinary people like us, gods like you are better at bringing disaster to yourself? Moriarty: Okay, okay, that just means that a mediocre person is just a mediocre person after all! Moriarty: Look at me… take a good look at your [exhibit]... Moriarty: Is there anything more ironic to you two than me being able to sit on this special seat? Vita: There’s no need for a king to kill his own court jester, right? Vita: Anyone can feel like the other person is an idiot on the inside… Do you think that’s important? Sa: There are no [idiots] here. Sa: The three wills that exist here have lost their own value from the beginning. Sa: They try to compensate, they try to ignore. They will only continue to expand… until they become ugly remains. Vita: Thank you for your advice, [Sa]. But what I am and what I want will all be decided by myself. Vita: I will do better than you, of course. It’s a pity that you can never imagine it if you are trapped in the [Sea]. Sa: … Sa: That’s really worth looking forward to. Vita: Yes, worth looking forward to. Vita: Us gods looking forward to our deaths is also very romantic, isn't it?  Vita: ...That's the only emotion you have left. Moriarty: Oh? It seems that this is the end? Moriarty: I have to say that as my second ending, there is nothing more satisfying than this. Moriarty: Although you are my enemy, you are the initiator who interrupted my grand finale and brought great shame to me... Moriarty: I still pay you the highest respect, Miss "Vita". Moriarty: The way we exist is somewhat similar - it's like fate has played a nasty trick and we spend our lives trying to get out of this shadow. Moriarty: We are not the real body, but we have made achievements far beyond the real body. This is the proof of our existence in the world and our unique mark. Moriarty: If we hadn't met in this way, we would definitely have become very good friends... or destined rivals. Vita: …maybe. You are truly my most troublesome exhibit, "Moriarty." Moriarty: Ha! I would take that as the highest compliment. Vita: Indeed. So… Vita: Farewell, [nothingness]. Vita: I will accept those [Eyes of Bodhi]. [Who are you digging a grave for? Is it for a Phosphorus person?] [It's not for a Phosphorus person, miss.] [So, is it for the Purusha person?] [Not for a Purusha person either.] [Not a person of Phosphorus nor a person of Purusha - then who is buried here?] [Miss, she was originally a Purusha person, but she was already gone.] Vita: The so-called [Gods]... Vita: ...are truly [interesting].

[fandomficsnstuff]

Redemption For All - 2

(Warnings: a little bit of death, mentions and faint hints at SA, some slight confusion on Arthur’s part but c’mon, we all know this cowboy is confused like 80% of the time lol. Also this is short, I’m sorry lovelies<3)

Notes: I do NOT speak spanish but I think it is a very beautiful language and sadly all I can say in spanish is ‘I can’t speak spanish’, so I used google translate, sorry. Some words are in Italic, which is the translated words, and others are just straight up spanish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah sighed heavily as she listened closely, eyes closing in regret and she took off the stethoscope, looking over her shoulder at Abigail, shaking her head ever so slightly and she sighed, announcing Davey’s death to the others. “What time is it?”

“What?”

“The time. What is it?”

“It’s-... five minutes past three, in the morning” Hosea stated after glancing at his pocket watch, Leah nodding “time of death; 3:05…” she muttered to herself, studying the corpse with regret. It had been a bit over two months almost, her phone having been turned on and off periodically in an attempt to find cell service while saving the battery, which was useless, because apparently this part of the planet was untouched by modern fucking technology, but she had actually begun to like this group. They were strange, being adamant in their roleplaying that they were, in fact, in the year 1899, but they were good people. She was a little unnerved with how many weapons they had casually lying around but so long as she didn’t have to hold one so she couldn’t accidentally shoot herself, she was fine, it had been years since she held a weapon and she had no doubt that a crash-course on guns was a hopeless thing right now, at least until she was more settled, or maybe got them to drop the roleplaying act for a minute or two. And then there was the crime. She had to admit, she despised that part, but she had found herself hating it less and less as time went on. Maybe it was because of the way things were here, they were different, it seemed everyone was in on the roleplay… to the point where people died, too…

“Hey, where’s ya head at?” Abigail asked softly, Leah looking at her, studying her, her kind face that held such concern and worry towards her. “I need you to be honest with me, Abigail, and I mean it. No roleplaying, no lies, please, I am begging you for the absolute truth because I feel as though this might be real… what year is it?...”

“Aw, dear, you still on that?” Abigail asked with a small sigh, reaching a hand to her, gently rubbing up and down her arm through the thick jacket she had been given when they fled towards the mountains “Abby, please…” Leah begged desperately, Abigail studying her before sighing “it’s 1899, it’s May” she stated. She found the woman odd, constantly thinking they were… in another time, apparently, as strange as it sounded, but the pleading look on Leah’s face was proof that she truly, wholeheartedly believed it, believed that she was from another time.

Leah sighed shakily at her response, looking down as she nodded, trying to fight back the tears in her eyes. This might be real after all. “Please… please tell me I’m going insane” she whispered, Abigail looking around to see if the others heard her before scooting closer, taking Leah’s hand into her own “now, don’t you say things like that! You’re as sane as the rest of us, granted there ain’t much comfort there” she joked, Leah letting out a brief chuckle before sniffling, clutching Abigail’s hand tightly in an attempt to find some sort of comfort. “I’m sorry I can’t make things better, I would if I could-”

“I know… I know” Leah whispered, looking at the others before looking away again, retracting her hand from Abigail’s and the young mother sighed, studying her. She had kept her bag that she had arrived with, that weird thing that kept it closed that she pulled to open it, the metal thing with the light in it… “ya ain’t goin’ crazy” she whispered, Leah looking at Abigail with a frown, the young mother hesitating, thinking things over before sighing “I believe you” she whispered, Leah frowning even more “don’t lie to make me feel better-”

“I ain’t! I promise. I promise I ain’t, Leah… that bag ‘f yours, that metal stick with light in it, that black box you sometimes pull out and-... point to the sky or something… it ain’t like nothing I’ve ever seen before, it’s enough ‘fer me to believe you, I might not’ve gone to school, hell, I can’t even read, but even I know all that is too… futuristic” she decided, Leah studying her before nodding “thank you” she whispered, Abigail nodding with a smile “now, go on and fix yourself up, alright? Don’t want them tears freezing on your cheeks” she joked lightly, Leah chuckling as she wiped her tears away, nodding, sniffling briefly before sighing “yeah… thank you, Abigail…”

“Oh, it’s ‘Abigail’ now?” she teased, Leah rolling her eyes with a smirk and a scoff “I went to school with someone named Abigail” she muttered, Abigail frowning “y’all went to school?” she asked in shock, Leah studying her before nodding “yeah… it’s-... almost everyone is… thing will change… we’ll get voting rights, too” Leah whispered, Abigail gasping with wide eyes “now don’t you lie to me” she whispered with shock, Leah shaking her head with amusement “I’m not! I promise. It’ll be a long time from-... well… a long time from now, but it will happen” Leah promised, Abigail looking at her with a big grin “I ain’t rightly sure how you got here, but I’m happy that you are.”

“Because I can tell the future?” Leah joked, Abigail shaking her head as she laughed “no, ‘cause you’re good for us. All of us ain’t really had normal lives up ‘till now. You’re a real doctor, you went to school, you can read and write and all that, we might kick out Strauss and replace him with you” she joked with the last bit, Leah chuckling “I can’t be the only one here who can read and write?”

“No, far from it, but I sure can’t-”

“I can teach you?”

“You would??... I-I’d really like that, but can you teach Jack first? Hosea is already teachin’ him but, well… you know a bit more” Abigail admitted, Leah smiling at her, nodding “I promise” she stated, Abigail nodding with a smile “go on and rest, you’ve been frettin’ over Davey ‘n Jenny for so long, John’s arm, too, you ain’t had time to sleep” she stated and Leah nodded with a light sigh “alright…” she muttered, standing up to find somewhere to sleep.

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

Leah approached the woman hesitantly, glancing at the others before approaching the fire she sat across from, staring into the flames with a look of rage she’d never seen before. “Excuse me, mind if I sit here?” Leah asked and pointed to the other chair, the woman didn’t even move, she barely blinked and Leah nodded, sitting down on the chair, putting her bag on the floor between the two and this seemed to catch the woman’s attention, and Leah smiled at the sign of humanity this displayed. “My name is Leah Riverra. I’m a doctor, I’ve worked with a lot of gunshot wounds and animal attacks… and joining these people,” she gestured towards the other people in the old cabin “it’s sort of made me good at anything emergency related” she added with a joking tone, studying the woman, tilting her head a little at her. “Your name is Adler, right? Miss Adle-”

“Mrs.” she corrected, Leah smirking subtly in victory at getting her to at least talk. “I’m sorry, ‘Mrs.’ Adler… your first name is Sadie?”

“...Yeah….”

“Mrs. Adler, would you mind if I took a look at you? I won’t do anything you don’t consent to and if you are uncomfortable with any of my questions or what I’m doing, just tell me and I’ll stop or explain if that’s what you want” Leah stated softly, studying the woman a few seconds longer before nodding to herself “I heard some of what happened… how long were you with them..?”

“Three days…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m sorry about your husband, I really am… Can I ask you some personal questions? We can go somewhere more private if you’d like-”

“No, they didn’t do-... that…”

“Do what?...”

“They didn’t do what you wanna ask if they did” she explained with a hint of anger and malice to her tone but Leah just nodded with a smile “I’m relieved to hear that. Do you have any pains? Any aches or bruises?”

“No…”

“Okay… I know you’re probably sick of hearing this, like my dad was when my mom died, like I was… but I’m sorry for your loss. If you need anything, you only have to ask, even if it’s not for anything medically-”

“You really a doctor?”

“Yes, I am, trained professionally and with experience” Leah responded softly, the woman almost looking at her, her head still facing the flames but her eyes moved to Leah’s direction, giving a brief nod before looking back at the flames, Leah studying her before picking up her bag and leaving to give her some space.

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

Leah was quiet as she examined Charles’ hand, re-wrapping it carefully. “I could do this myself, John is the one needing attention” he stated softly, Leah just smiling as she kept taking care of his hand “I know… I wanted to… I haven’t had time to thank you for finding me, saving me. And John, well… John is doing remarkably well for someone getting eaten by wolves. He’ll have some ugly scars but that’s it, so I’d rather focus on my savior” she muttered, Charles studying her with a soft expression “I wasn’t alone-”

“No, but you were the one who found out that I was still breathing” she stated softly, looking up at him, her eyes locked with his so he’d know she meant what she said, and she smiled at him. “So, thank you, Charles, for saving my life” she whispered softly, leaning up, pressing her lips softly to his scarred cheek, completely unbothered by the scars as she smiled at him “my knight in shining armor” she teased lightly, looking back down at his hand, finished bandaging it before smiling up at him “I’m not a knight” was all he could somehow stupidly say, already kicking himself mentally for it when she just smiled at him again before continuing to pack away the remaining bandages for another time “why not? You ride a horse, saved a lady in distress, now all you need is a sword and some armor, you AND Arthur” she teased softly, giving him another smile before getting up, about to leave when she turned around on her heel, her smile gone, replaced by a look of worry “I don’t know why you’re doing this, why you’re going after them, I don’t even know what’s going to happen but if there’s shooting involved, which seems to be a likely thing with your group… be safe… and look out for Arthur, alright? Don’t let him get himself killed just yet, I’m, uh… not ready to lose anyone else, at least wait until I’ve had a proper night’s rest” she added the last bit as a small joke, offering him another smile before leaving, Arthur approaching Charles with a small smirk. “She likes ya” he said, Charles flinching a little, unaware of Arthur’s presence, turning to look up at Arthur before back down at his freshly bandaged hand “she’s just grateful-”

“She don’t seem like the type of girl to confuse gratitude and love” Arthur stated with a smirk, Charles frowning up at him “‘love’?”

“Okay, maybe not love, but definitely sumthin’, even I can see that with my pathetic eyes” he stated with a huff and a smirk of amusement, leaning against the wall, looking down at a still frowning Charles. “Her ‘knight in shining armor’” Arthur teased, Charles getting up, rolling his eyes as Arthur laughed, following with him outside into the cold “c’mon, b’fore Dutch rides without us” he muttered, Charles nodding, walking outside with Arthur. Arthur approached his new horse before looking into the old cabin as he stood by his new horse, spotting her in the window, giving him a small wave and he lazily raised his hand, barely moving it, an attempt at waving in return but he snapped out of it when his horse shook it’s head a little, blinking as he snapped out of his trance. He was too old to act like that, what the hell was wrong with him?

[tinystepsforward]

AI/LLM Q&A

poking a hornet's nest here but answering a few questions i've been posed.

part of what makes this bad is that automattic already sent the data to at least OpenAI if not midjourney. and that they accidentally sent a bunch of shit they shouldn't, like the contents of deleted blogs (trust and safety still has access to those. they are not fully purged)

i do not trust that these partners would delete data retroactively when asked. if they've already fed it in for training, there's no way to undo that.

you should be able to opt out in the future, but i wouldn't trust tumblr to be able to safely truncate reblog chains and not provide that data that way. i mean, andrew spittle clearly made a call that he did not have a duty of care to anyone who took the terms of service in good faith, so i would not trust him on anything in the future.

in terms of public posts, art or otherwise, the difference is between "your stuff is maybe being scraped if it's publicly available" and "your stuff is definitely being scraped if it's publicly available". the private stuff is a bigger deal bc that should have in no way come with the expectation that someone could have fed it to AI. private asks, blogs, and deleted content should never have been available.

tumblr in general has a pretty poor understanding of how LLMs and other generative AI work. in particular art/image AI generators do not store a copy of your image/trace it/paste it into things. that would be way, way too much data for anyone to install and use. it learns from it, just like a human artist learns by looking at other people's art how color and edges work.

your work being fed into generative AI does not in any way make it more likely (especially if you are not an extremely prolific person with an extremely hard to replicate style) that people will personally bypass you as an artist to use AI to replicate your stuff. incredibly few people are good, popular, and important enough that that is an actual risk.

AI generators are a threat to creative industries as a whole in the same way machine translation threatened translators. it is something that cannot be solved by handwringing about how special your art or your feelings are. collective action (or, you know, ideally, completely destroying the current system) is the only way to prevent capitalism from adopting every new technology it can specifically in ways that involve treating workers badly.

we have a misinformation problem. we have a problem where google is getting less and less useful every day, because their algorithms are tweaked to make them money and not to be a good search engine, and because people who are paid to get useless shit to the top of the results have way more time to work on that than people writing actual useful articles.

we have a problem where workers in general are not human to the people who call the shots, and any exceptionalism about your specific art misses the point. i get it. your art matters to you. but this is not an individual issue. technology is not the problem and copyright is not the solution. generative AI and copyright both serve the interests of capital and no fight between them is a true fight that any of us benefit from.

media coverage

here's the best writeups we have so far.

matt's meltdown:

tumblr's AI deals:

that second article requires an account, but the full article is on tumblr here.

importantly, the initial data dump for OpenAI included a bunch of content that — on top of all public content between 2014 and 2023 — automattic didn't mean to share, like private posts, posts on suspended or deleted blogs, unanswered or private asks, and posts that are marked NSFW.

automattic got the IDs for these posts after providing them, and requested they be removed. we don't know for sure that they have been.

notably, the article names andrew spittle, the current head of AI. he was my boss's boss's boss's boss (you get the point) before that, and openly says that he doesn't believe in work-life balance, just in doing what the job requires him to do, if that tells you anything.

[hangryyeena]

the racism/antiblackness and colorism of Kazutaka Kodaka and Danganronpa.

---

some messages and warnings before i start

- if you like Danganronpa or other forms of problematic content, you have to be critical of it and its writers/creator. call out problematic content in the media you consume and use critical thinking. be better than the content.

- please do not harass Kodaka (he's being ratio'd enough anyways), the fans, or anyone who is running any official or fan DR-related accounts (such as Spike Chunsoft or the any of the Danganronpa Wiki's social media accounts). i will not be held responsible for any idiots who choose not to listen to me and decide to use me as resource for their harassment. people who do so will be blocked and reported. educate, don't harass.

- don't fight racism with more racism. that makes you no better than Kodaka or any other racist person.

- if anyone has any extra points they would like to make, feel free to add onto this post. do not tell me what is or isn't antiblack if you're not black, or you will blocked.

- i am okay with being proved wrong and corrected. i do not want to see things as problematic if they are actually not.

- this is for informational and educational purposes only. this is not a callout post, don't treat like one.

- this will contain mentions of racism/antiblackness, misogynoir, SA, sexualization of (fictional) minors, whitewashing, and colorism. scroll with caution.

but before i start talking about DR...

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Kodaka on the Will Smith "slap"

so you guys may or may not have seen this tweet from Kazutaka Kodaka, the writer and creator of Danganronpa, going semi-viral on Twitter:

he is criticizing Will Smith on the recent events at the Oscars that have been discussed by many for almost a week, where he slapped Chris Rock for joking about his wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith's, alopecia, which is a condition where women lose their hair.

although Google Translate isn't always reliable, he is shown calling a black man "not normal", especially for defending his wife, a black woman, from a crude remark about her hair loss.

to go off-topic from Kodaka a bit, hair loss can be a painful, sad experience for black women.

black women's hair has been mocked for years by both black men and non-black people, which is misogynoir (misogyny against black women), so it shouldn't be a problem for a black man to defend their spouse from these comments rather than to be making them.

you can watch this video here about it: https://youtu.be/Qk9z8dyVfWA

back on topic, while Kodaka can disagree with his way of handling it, it's not a non-black person's business to police how a black person defends a loved one from mockery (unless they are actually in the wrong), and there was no reason to go the extra mile and say a black man is "not normal" and say his award should be taken away (and this applies to any other non-black person who thinks the same way). until there is a more accurate translation made, this is what was said.

(edit: https://twitter.com/hokuoutyuki/status/1509928533631639582?t=dBkm220jmt7ELnJ0SUqvlA&s=19

apparently he said "what Will did wasn't right" instead of saying "he wasn't normal" which was according to Google Translate. regardless if either one is true or not, this does not change the fact that Kodaka is a non-black person calling for a black man's award to be taken away because he was supposedly "being violent" for defending his wife from misogynoir.)

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racism, colorism, and antiblackness in the Danganronpa series

Kodaka has a history of negatively portraying and mistreating dark-skinned characters (such as making them "useless", "dumb", or downright scummy) and displaying racist stereotypes and caricatures in Danganronpa. although i like DR and it's characters, i cannot sit back and support Kodaka in any way as a black person. there is more than just racism and colorism littered in the series, but i want to specifically talk about this since it is relevant to Kodaka's tweet (since he thinks he's such a saint).

colorism, racism, and antiblackness in the games

this post gives a more in-depth look into the colorism of Danganronpa. i don't particularly agree with some of the things said here, so i'll give my separate thoughts about some (but not all) of these as a dark-skinned, black (non-binary) woman, as well as adding more points. i highly suggest you read the post before reading ahead.

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

in the prologue, Makoto Naegi states that Sakura Ogami is described in online forums as "being the missing link between humans and apes". calling Sakura, a dark-skinned girl, who was inspired by black bodybuilders, an ape is very reminiscent of the racist comparisons black people are made towards monkeys are gorillas. it also plays into the claim that black women, or women in general, are unattractive if they have muscles, which is very rooted in misogynoir/misogyny.

Yasuhiro Hagakure appears, but is not confirmed, to be blasian. he is an adult (21) who has failed the same grade multiple times due to being chased by the yakuza, but anyone who doesn't know this will obviously chalk it up to him being "dumb", since that's how the game portrays him. this is linked to the stereotype that black people always fail academically in school and are unintelligent (which hurts me on a personal level since i was failing academically due to a learning disability and ADHD).

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair

(from my perspective at least) Akane Owari's backstory in her Free Time Events is very similar to a stereotypical black person's backstory, being raised in a low income, rough neighborhood with tons of violence. she also has a tendency to be oversexualized, which is not only horrible considering she experienced sexual abuse/harassment when she was trying to raise money for her family, but is also identical to how sexualized young black girls are by people (such as the "she's fast" claim, which thankfully doesn't apply to Akane).

(off-topic, but also note that i am aware that Mikan Tsumiki also experienced sexual abuse and is sexualized by Kodaka. being a character he has stated to hate makes it worse.)

Akane also uses AAVE alongside Sonia Nevermind, a white character. i am aware the game was released before people speaking up about AAVE were being heard more, but it is still worth mentioning. it's also unclear/not confirmed if Akane is blasian or not like Yasuhiro, so the AAVE thing is up in air for me regarding Akane.

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony

(note that i am not Polynesian or a Pacific Islander, so my perspective may not be entirely correct. you will have to ask or look for posts by actual Pacific Islanders or Polynesian people for their perspective on Angie. i can't speak for people, so feel free to educate me.)

Angie Yonaga, who is implied to be Polynesian/a Pacific Islander is portrayed as "the odd foreign girl" with bizarre, unsafe, and illegal traditions from her island such as human trafficking and blood sacrifices. she is, compared to Sonia from DR2, who again is a white character, is played up more negatively. her usage of the name Atua (which is the name of gods in Polynesian culture) in the NISA translation of V3 can be seen as offensive to Polynesian people, especially with it being played up as a cult. in fact, her entire character could be seen as offensive to Pacific Islanders. Kodaka has stated he made up his version of island culture, so he makes it clear he didn't bother doing any research (and in my opinion, didn't care about representation). she is also a secondary antagonist in V3, with hardly any of the students trying to understand her perspective on why they should stay in the school rather than escaping. she's seen as a dangerous individual despite her claiming multiple times she wants to end the killing game (which is not mentioned until Chapter 4 where optional dialogue from Shuichi Saihara says that she just wanted to end the killing game). there is no explanation as to why the students see the ritual to bring back Rantaro Amami as dangerous aside from it being Monokuma's motive, and yet they trusted Korekiyo Shinguji, a lighter-skinned student, with his seance more, which led to an actual additional murder. all of this leads to Angie being incredibly hated by both players and some of the characters, with Miu Iruma calling her a "kooky bitch" in Chapter 4 and generally insulting her throughout the game (yes, i am aware she's like this with other characters). this plays into how dark-skinned characters are often portrayed as villains or are villainized in media. compare her to Kokichi Oma, the main antagonist and another lighter-skinned student, who also wanted to end the killing game. and while Kokichi is also treated as dangerous by the students, not even Kokichi acknowledged that she wanted to end the game like he did, and yet he took more drastic measures to end it compared to Angie. he was remembered for everything he did to end the game, yet Angie was forgotten about. although Himiko Yumeno mentions her alongside Tenko Chabashira when talking about them post Chapter 3, she is mentioned less and makes little impact on her compared to Tenko. Angie also adores negative aspects from other cultures, such as cannibalism and even slavery, which she calls "an old-fashioned custom".

racism/antiblackness in the anime

Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope's Peak High School

Daisaku Bandai is probably the most talked about when it comes to antiblackness in DR. his appearance is a racist caricature of black people often seen in media, especially anime. his Ultimate talent is the Ultimate Farmer, which gives very racist implications about slave work, and Kodaka explicitly said he is based on Uncle Tom:

he also dies first in the Final Killing Game in the Future arc, which plays into the racist "black person dies first" trope. although Chisa Yukizome technically died first, she had more relevance to DR3's plot, and Daisaku is played up to be the first victim of the forbidden action violation. he is quickly forgotten about.

other points

this isn't exactly related, but i wanted to bring it up because it's affecting reality. DR fans tend to force black stereotypes onto Yasuhiro, Akane, and some others because of everything mentioned. ones such as Yasuhiro smoking marijuana, and Akane being portrayed with the "ghetto" stereotype, as well as jokes about their skin tone.

a lot of the dark-skinned female characters in the games are sexualized in some way. in Sakura, Akane, and Angie's official artworks and other images, merch, and in-game CGs, their undergarments can be seen. Akane and Angie are the most sexualized, with Angie's Free Time Events and Love Suite Event being rife with sexual references and content. all of them wear skirts, despite Sakura and Akane being athletic. Aoi Asahina's chest is commented on multiple times, and she is played up as "fanservice" in one CG.

some of the dark-skinned characters skin tones like Angie's are not colored properly. they're dull and pale compared to actual dark-skinned people's skin.

although Toko Fukawa is not dark-skinned her skin is slighty lighter in Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, compared to Trigger Happy Havoc:

some of the dark-skinned characters are treated negatively by their light-skinned peers. Yasuhiro is treated like a burden, and Sakura was decently liked until Chapter 4 where she is outed as the spy for the mastermind. almost everyone turns on her, and Aoi is hurt by Genocide Jack for associating with Sakura. Teruteru Hanamura is portrayed as an unlikeable pervert and predator, yet Kazuichi Soda, a light-skinned student, is treated less severely than him despite his multiple inappropriate remarks towards Sonia. she is the only person who tells him to stop, yet he continues. Angie's treatment is already mentioned above.

aside from Aoi, Yasuhiro, and Akane, dark-skinned characters are often killed off, often early. Sakura, Teruteru, Daisaku, Angie, and Gonta Gokuhara, just to name a few. the amount of surviving dark-skinned characters also decrease by each game (THH: 2, GD: 1, V3: 0)

colorism/whitewashing and racism/antiblackness in official merch

Danganronpa x Sanrio merchandise

somewhat recently, Sanrio has released a Danganronpa 2 x Sanrio Collab merchandise collection. it features the cast of Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair paired with different Sanrio characters. Akane's caused backlash and an uproar on social media due to her, a dark-skinned character, being paired with Monkichi, a monkey:

this is not the first time Monkichi was paired with a dark-skinned DR character. they have previously done a collab with Trigger Happy Havoc, pairing Yasuhiro with Monkichi:

some have pointed out that some characters have their skin lightened up a bit:

https://twitter.com/EeveeHoney/status/1486090099242803203?t=DRxNEa6BJS_uEup0fSkvBg&s=19

Sanrio has a history of racism. you can look it up yourself (search Sanrio racism/racist characters), as the imagery and names can possibly be disturbing to any black people reading this. and yet, Kodaka and anyone else involved still chose to work with them. they allowed these antiblack portrayals with their dark-skinned characters. many fans fear for a possible Danganronpa V3 x Sanrio collab where the pattern could repeat with Angie or Gonta.

other merch

in the post linked above about colorism in DR, there are more examples of characters having their skin tones lightened. i advise you to look for more examples yourself with these characters.

other

there is a scrapped character who was supposed to be a Junko Enoshima successor in Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, before being replaced with Monaca:

she is portrayed as a black girl in clothing similar to Junko's, and was supposed to be almost exactly like her. aside from her chest (which is probably that way because Junko's was, but still bad) her appearance does not indicate any negative stereotypes, and, aside from her being a villain, would've possibly (probably not, knowing Kodaka) been okay-ish representation, but yet she was scrapped.

conclusion

i suggest doing these things if you don't want to support Kodaka and/or give him your money, especially if you're black:

buy Danganronpa merchandise from unofficial sites like eBay or Etsy. there are plenty of fan made products, your purchase will be worth even more if the seller is black/a POC.

pirate/torrent the games if you really wanna play them. i pirated V3 because i refuse to give Kodaka money (i don't have anything to my name anyways). Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp is a bit harder to avoid paying money for (in my opinion, it's not worth the $20).

support black people monetarily instead of him. loads of black people are struggling and need mutual aid.

speak up. call out bigotry from the fans, the games, and Kodaka.

block him on social media.

if you chose not to do any of this, then i suppose i don't have the power to change your mind, but you should really think about your decisions and why you make them, and think about what kind of people you're supporting.

reblogs are on this are very much appreciated, and remember, listen to the voices of black folk. thank you for taking your time to read this. ✌🏾

[spotsupstuff]

S1E9 - 成功捷径/Shortcut to Success

(translation of the Mandarin dub to English by a slav who Just started learnin the former- for fun and for practice/exploration of the language. therefore, there most likely will be mistakes) i Might try and slap the english subs on top of the mandarin episode at some point, but im not sure if there wont be any complications with that

QXT：You know- I respect you for teaching me kung-fu, because you are Sūn Wùkōng. Great Sage Equal to Heaven! As a result, I never expected... I will be stuck here! Having to smash a wall for 12 hours every day! What am I doing this for?? [要知道- 我 拜你为师学功夫是因为你是孙悟空。堂堂时齐 天 大圣！结果万万没想到。。。我会困在这里！每 天 要连续砸12个小时的墙！我这是为了什么？ ？ (note: 拜 - according to google’s definition it is “An ancient courtesy of respect. Later, it was also used as a general term for saluting.”]

SWK：Eeehh, it’s to make me a place to have breakfast. Wall smashed, good lightning! [是 为 了让我有个吃早饭的地方。墙砸了采光好 ！] QXT：But I want to be Wùkōng Xiǎoxiá [the mandarin (CN) version of Monkie Kid] instead of a little decoration worker! If you don’t teach me a little bit of kung-fu I... How can I go out and fight for justice? [可是我想当的是悟空小侠而不是什么装修小工 ！ 你要是不教我点功夫傍身 我。。。我还怎么出去行侠仗义啊？ (note: 悟空小侠 - would be roughly translated as “little heroic Wùkōng”)] SWK：Ho hoo... So you want to learn kung-fu, yes? Like this? [所以你是 想 学功夫 是吧？就像这样？]

QXT：That’s right! This is what I want to learn! I’m already prepared good. [or just “I’m ready.”] Be quick and teach me! [没错 ！ 我 想 学 的 就 是这个！我已经准备好了 。 快点 教我吧！] SWK：-laughs- Kid, this can’t be done quickly. If you want martial arts, then only practice. [小子 这 可 没法速成。要想武功盖世只有练习。] QXT： B... But smashing the wall is useless! [可 。。。 可 是 砸 墙没什么用啊！] SWK：I will never teach you useless things, understand? Good... -QXT pouts- Listen. This ancient painting wall won't fall by itself, so work harder. “Round up” (look @ notes), KO it. [我永远不会 教你没 用 的东西 懂吗？好了 。 。 。 听着。这面古老画壁是不会自己倒下的所以加把劲。抡圆了 KO它。 (note: 抡圆了 - generally means that before a person hits someone, they should turn their arm around their shoulder before hitting the target/movement description)] ] -QXT’s phone starts ringing- LXJ：Xiǎotiān! Quick, come, we have big troubles! [小天 ！ 快来 有大麻烦了！] QXT：A monster is attacking Wàn Qiān Chéng? [the name of the city] That is so terrible~! -turns to SWK- I need to lend a hand with something trivial, so... no time to smash the wall. Then I’ll... go! Bye! -nyooms away, SWK sighs- [怪物袭击万千城？这���可怕了~！ 有点小事需要去帮忙 所以 没空 砸 墙。那么。。。走了 ！ 拜！(note: Wàn Qiān Chéng means Thousands of Cities)]

QXT：What did I miss? [我错过了什么？] LXJ：Qí Xiǎotiān, why are you so late? [齐小天 你怎么才来呀？] QXT：Sorry, just now I was smashing a wall at Sūn Wùkōng’s. Is that the monster? Okay, it’s done in three seconds. [抱歉 刚才在孙悟空那砸墙。那就是妖怪？好嘞 三秒钟搞定。] LXJ：Wait wait-!!! [等 等-！ ！ ！ ] QXT：Here comes-! -the smoke monster catches and throws him into the ground- [悟空小侠 来-！] LXJ：We already... tried that. [我们已经尝试过了。]

-LEMH appears- LXJ：That is... [那是。。。] QXT： Sūn Wùkōng? [孙悟空？]

QXT：YAAAAY!! Sūn Wùkōng!!! -falls and reappears- So good! You still came! -notices it’s not SWK, gasps- Ouuh... emberrasing. You aren’t Sūn Wùkōng. [孙悟空！ ！ ！ 太好了 ！ 你还是来了！尴尬了 。 不是孙悟空。] LEMH：-chuckles and squats down- I’m used to it. Wùkōng Xiǎoxiá, right? [我习惯了 。 悟空小侠 对吧？] QXT： -awed gasp- How do you know? [你怎么知道？] LEMH：-laughs some more- Jīngū Bàng [the staff’s name] sticks out, buddy. Not anyone can use that, hm? [金箍棒露馅了 伙计。那可不是谁都能 用 的，hm？(note: Jīngū Bàng means Golden Hooped Cudgel)] QXT：Uhh... That’s uuhh... Who are you? [那个。。。你是谁？] LEMH：Six Eared Macaque! Actually now... Not many people know my name... Okay, (see you) later, Qí Xiǎotiān! [六耳猕猴！ 其实现在呢。。。 没有多少人知道我的大名 。。 。 行啦 回头见 齐小天 ！]

QXT：Can you teach me that cool big trick? [能教我那个炫酷大招吗？！ ] LEMH：Uhhhh... Don’t you already have a master? You are learning kung-fu from Sūn Wùkōng, right? [你不是已经有师傅了吗？你正跟孙悟空学功夫呢 对吗？] QXT：O-oh- N-no no it’s... Umm- [不- 不 也不是。。。] LEMH：But one more master isn’t a bad thing! Sūn Wùkōng won’t be opposed. He isn’t afraid of being surpassed by others. [但是多一个师傅也不是什么坏事！ 孙悟空不会反对的。他 不 怕被别人超越。] QXT：Uhh.... Yeah! That’s right! He is very generous. [是啊！没错！他很大方的。] LEMH：Ha ha, that’s it. [那就行了。]

LEMH：-siiiigh- Not bad... -hah- Honestly... I think with the power you have now, you should be a little stronger. [还可以。 。 。 老实说 。 。 。 我觉得以你如今拥有的力量你应该更强一点。] QXT：H-hey! It’s not over yet, my strength is more than this! -exhale- I can be better. [喂！还没完呢 我的实力可不止这样 ！ 我能更好。] LEMH：Alright, next time make my eyes open. [好吧 下次让我开开眼界。]

LEMH：Don’t want to show mercy. Don’t want to be compassionate. What you must do is one trick win. Each strike should not leave any room. I guess some people hope you’d be a bit more patient. [不要手下留情。不要心存怜悯。你要做的是一招致胜。每次出击都应该不留任何余地。我猜有人希望你更耐心点儿。] SWK： Patience. Concentration. “Round up” KO it! [耐心 。 专注 。 抡圆了 KO它！] LEMH：That’s holding you back. Inside you hides unlimited potential. Discover it! Apply it to your attack. Remember. You don’t need a magic weapon, you are the magic weapon. [那是在拖你的后腿。你内藏无限潜力。发掘它！把它运用到你的攻击中。记住 。 你不需要神兵 你就是神兵。(note: 神 also means god/deity/superhuman. 兵 also can mean soldier. together they could mean godly soldier, as well, I think??)]

SWK：Woah! Where did you learn that? Hoh! You hurry up and tell honestly, have you respected another master? [Woah！哪儿学来的？Hoh！你赶紧老老实实告诉我是不是拜了别的师傅了？] QXT：Patience. Concentration. Isn't that what you said? [ 耐心。专注。这不是你说的吗？] SWK：Listen, kid. That kind of amount of power- your body can’t bear that. [听着 小子。那种程度的力量- 你身体吃不消的。] QXT：I don’t think my body can’t handle it, but you don’t want to see someone willing to teach me real kung-fu! [我看不是我 身 体 吃不 消而是你不想看到有人愿意教我真正的功夫！]

LEMH：The opportunity has arrived. [时机到了。] QXT：What opportunity? [什么 时机？] LEMH：I know where it is. [我知道它在哪儿。]

LEMH：This is actually a legendary monster. Super super powerful. We must settle it once and for all. Come on! [这其实是一只传说中的怪兽 。 力量超级超级强大 。 我们必须一劳永逸地解决它 。 夹吧 ！] QXT：No, I couldn’t even get near it last time! [不行 上次我都没法靠近它 ！] LEMH：Ah! That’s right, but haven’t I been teaching you? You aren’t what you used to be, don’t you feel it yourself? [是这样 但我不是一直在教你吗？ 你已经今非昔比 你自己没有感觉到吗？] QXT：Probably... [可能吧 。 。 。 ] LEMH：Remember. Your self is the magic weapon. Do not how mercy. [记着。你自己就是神兵 。 千别手下留情 。] QXT：Here comes Wùkōng Xiǎoxiá! [悟空小侠来也！]

QXT：I am the magic weapon! [我就 是神兵！]

LEMH： You really are a good child. You have a warm heart! -laughs- -absords the “powers”- Thank you. For giving me the godly power of Sūn Wùkōng. [你真是一个好孩子 。 你有一副热心肠 ！谢谢你 。 把孙悟空的神力给我 。] -QXT struggling- LEMH： -”ooh?” laughs some more- It’s over... Are you not strong enough to hold the golden hoop cudgel? Face reality, you have no other talents at all. You just had better luck. [完了 。 。 。 没力气拿金箍棒了？ 面对现实吧 你根本没什么别的才能 。 你不过就是运气好点儿罢了 。]

SWK： Enough! -enters the scene- [ 够了！ ] QXT：Sūn Wùkōng! [ 孙悟空！] LEMH： Sūn Wùkōng! Long time no see, brother/old pal! [孙悟空！ 好久不见 老弟 ！(note: 老弟 is an affectionate form of addressing of a male who is not very much younger than oneself, doesn’t mean an Actual brother)] SWK：I say, you always pretend to be me, don’t you feel bored? We should work out the ledger. [我说你总冒充我 你就不觉得腻吗？ 咱们该算算总账了。(note: ledger - a book or other collection of financial accounts or a flat stone slab covering a grave)] LEMH：Such a star (as in celebrity) like you, how greatly satisfying it will be to use your strength to solve you. [像你这样的明星 用你的力量来解决你将会是多么地痛快 。] -The Fight Begins-

SWK: Xiǎotiān? [小天？]

LEMH：No way. You actually ate that up? -QXT struggling- It’s not against you, sorry! [不会吧 。 你居然吃这一套？ 不是针对你哦 对不起了！] SWK：-QXT screams- Xiǎotiān! [小天！]

LEMH：Come on! Let me meet the real Sun Wukong! The former you would knock the mountains down just to stop me. Now you are afraid of hurting this kid. Truly sad! [夹吧!！让我会会真正的孙悟空！ 以前的你把山轰平了也要阻止我 。 现在居然怕伤到这小子。真可悲！ ] QXT： Please, Jīngū Bàng... I can’t- I dont have the strength... [拜托了 金箍棒。。。 不行了- 我没力气了 。。。] SWK：Kid! I must have a good chat with you- but now it’s your turn! [小子 ！ 我一定得跟你好好聊 聊- 但是现在该你上场了！ ] QXT & SWK：Patience. Concentration. “Round up” KO him! [耐心 。 专注 。 抡圆了 KO他！]

SWK：-sighs- You succeded, you haven’t forgotten what I taught you. [你成功了 我教的你 都 没忘。] QXT：I’m very sorry... [我很抱歉。。。] SWK：Oh- OH!! You are too much, to find another master behind my back! [你实在太过分了居然背 着 我又找了 一个师傅！] QXT：I just wanted to become a hero like you. [我只是想成为英雄像你 一 样。] SWK：-sighs, sits next to QXT and pats him- Hey... You have to rest your mind first and then work hard. [嘿。。。 你得先把心放正然后就是努力了。(I’m not too sure on this one)] QXT：So you will continue to teach me? [所以你会继续教我？] SWK：Of course, kid! I got a good idea. [当然 小子 ！ 我有了个好主意。]

QXT：So mysterious... On the surface, it looks like overwhelmingly boring housework, but actually, this must be the most secret trick to learning the best skills! Right-? [太玄妙了 从表面上 看 是无聊透顶的家务活但其实这 一 定是学习绝顶功夫最秘密的诀窍！对吧-？] SWK：Eehhh.... Sure! [当然 ！ ]

[leiawritesstories]

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair. 

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job. 

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth. 

As if she knew anything her staff actually did. 

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together. 

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation. 

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself. 

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order. 

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English. 

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

~

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple. 

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved. 

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure. 

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved. 

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve. 

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind. 

“You broke both of your hearts” 

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart. 

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

~

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice. 

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds. 

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city. 

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner. 

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed. 

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction. 

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth. 

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love.  We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. 

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages. 

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan. 

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof. 

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech. 

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying. 

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan. 

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow. 

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything. 

She was worthy of him. 

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified. 

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

~

Present day. 

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked. 

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch. 

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.” 

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

~

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

~

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

[sweetpea-sprite]

THE IMMEDIATE NEXT INN VISIT AND I'M FUCKING BACK EVEN OLIVER IS CALLING THIS SHIT OUT NOW (bunny)

I left immediately it was the same riddle thank god

ASLKBMSALKBKSAKALMBABMLAKMSLABMSA i'm very sorry but it will be the same riddle every time until you solve it... you can't progress the conductor until you do that riddle </3

I actually managed to find a tinman before my game crashed earlier, called him rude because how long it took me to find him.

I'm calling the next one ruder because it's taking even longer I just wanna get through the ghost valley game you don't gotta crash this ain't someones first creepypasta

Getting the tinman was useless I have a better familiar with provoke in my party called badboy, bighorn I think? So that was a fun waste of time

RIP fair though. i'm glad they gave all the physical attack affinity familiars provoke that was smart of them

Finally at Yuri's house again! If the game crashes my patience is going to join the dead souls in this ghost valley

I CAN'T BELIEVE A SAVE WAS NOT EVEN A MINUTE AWAY FROM WHERE I LAST CRASHED LITERALLY JUST TWO MINUTES WOULD HAVE SAVED ME SO MUCH TIME

Anyway I've saved there now so if it happens again I'll have less to repeat

ALKSVKASBSMABLKSAMKBSMALKBMLKSAM I'M SO SORRY.

Boss fight time! COME OUT AND FIGHT ME YOU CANDLE BITCH

HELP THE CANDLE IS WINNING

COMING BACK WITH THE COMEBACK I KICKED HIS ASS SUCK IT YOU WALKING CANDLESTICK

THIS IS SO FUNNYSLKDBMSDLKBKBLSD GOOD JOB. I'M PROUD OF YOU

Oh fuck Ollie boy grave robbing with no hesitation damn

literally. it's the same in wotww tbf they really do just go in and take shit from the Grave Of The Wizard King

FUCKING CALLED IT SHE'S A GHOST

Oh he's crying... Let it out Ollie boy, she's okay and can never experience googling her name

AKBDKABMDALKBAMLKBASMLKB SHE'S SO IMPORTANT TO ME. i almost cried at this scene i'm not gonna lie. i liked her.

Uh

Wrong dialogue oliver

oh yeah the translation does that quite a bit. tbf it actually also happens a handful of times in wotww's Official localisation it's just harder to notice because you don't have the sprites

Not liking how this one guy gets scared for a moment because he thinks Oliver works for jabou, not liking that at all

YEAH that quest starts out so. .

Jairo out here being the responsible adult figure calling a pirate a bastard Infront of children

Oliver and Esther are gonna know so many swears by the end of this adventure

oh don't worry. esther gets a turn.

Gonna stop now at learning teleport because I don't wanna pick up my book and I'm tired so goodnight!

goodnight o7!!!!!

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Nothing But A Scratch

Ivar x Princess reader

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Tiny mention of violence, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, Ivar may be out of character (Shrugs).

Summary: Ivar is wounded during battle.

My entry for @maggiescarborough’s 400 Followers Writing Challenge! Congratulations Sophie! 😊❤️For some reason, I always write more than 2k for your challenges 😂

I’m not exactly sure what to say about this. I struggled quite a bit writing it. I’m really hard on myself 😅Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Prompt: The character gets seriously hurt.

According to google translate (An unreliable source, I know), moron in Russian is Debil.

Thanks to @shannygoatgruff​ for beta reading

...

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself.

The enemy sword was swift, the blade slicing through his armor and deep into the flesh of his belly.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when blood began to pour from his wound and past his lips, the adrenaline pushing him forward.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when he swayed on his feet, his crutch no longer of use to him.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when his legs twisted, and his body collided with the muddy ground, completely vulnerable and surrounded by his enemies.

…

Ivar dreamed.

He dreamed of Kattegat in the days of his youth, back when he trailed behind his older brothers through the dirt with his hands, only to come to the painful realization that he would never be like them. He dreamed of his mother and her tears, his pride separating them despite how much she pleaded for him not to go.

He dreamed of the salty waters of the Northern Sea and the unforgiving winds that destroyed their ship, splintering it to pieces. He dreamed of Ràn dragging him into the depths of her dark abyss, collecting another prize for her realm of the drowned.

He dreamed of England’s sandy shores, of land ready for the taking, and of the weak-minded men who ruled over it. He dreamed of little Prince Alfred, now a King, holding out his hand to offer him friendship in the form of a chess piece.

He dreamed of Ragnar in the way he remembered best, tired, and decrepit in his final days, a hermit, and yet, in his eyes, he was still the greatest man who ever lived.

It is not your time yet, Ragnar told him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

He dreamed of Kiev and its massive wooden gates, golden palace walls, and luxurious Byzantine silks. He dreamed of the ambitious Prince Oleg, and of sweet, sweet, Igor. He dreamed of emotionless puppets made to stand with perfect posture while he still struggled to keep up with his own.

He dreamed of the Rus princess with the mysterious umber eyes, always seeking him out in a room. He dreamed of her dark hair hidden under white and gold silks, and of the jewels that adorned her neck and wrists, as befitting a princess.

He dreamed of her smile, never fully reaching her eyes, and of the way her fingers stroked his cheek at night when the fires burned bright against the darkness when her maids kept close watch outside her door.

He dreamed of the smooth expanse of her skin, of her gasps of delight, and her moans of pleasure. He dreamed of her mouth on his, the urgency they both felt as she left crescent moon shapes over his shoulders, clinging on to the precious time that seemed to slip away.

He dreamed of the day he stole her away from her brother, away from the shelter of the Kievan court, and into the safety of his arms. She watched her brother die that day, by the hands of her own nephew, her dark eyes glossing over, but never daring to let the tears fall.

He dreamed of making her his wife, of her in a crown of wildflowers and the sun illuminating the different shades of her hair.

He dreamed of her smile, finally reaching her eyes.

He could hear her calling out to him, begging for him to come to her.

Ivar, please, she cried, Wake up.

He tried searching for her, arm outstretched and fingers reaching in futile attempts. It was impossible, his body fighting through what felt like tar. He sunk deeper into the darkness, away from her soothing voice, and into Ràn’s abyss where Ivar the Boneless was forgotten.

…

It had been a week before he had shown any signs of consciousness.

7 days of fever, chills, and silence that had him teetering between Midgard and Valhalla.

For 7 days his army laid low after their truce with the Saxon king. For all the attacks Wessex had endured from the Northmen, he valued peace over war, forgiveness over vengeance. A true Christian king.

Alfred was not ruthless.

For 7 days the heathen army waited impatiently, wondering whether the youngest son of Ragnar was to survive, or whether a funeral was to be organized. Some believed he would die. Of course, the wound he received at the hands of a Saxon warrior was a deadly one. A deep gash across his stomach had been opened to infection, causing the fever to take hold of him the first few nights. His legs, more shattered than ever, would make surviving seemingly impossible.

But still, they waited.

The former princess of Kiev waited by his side, as still as a statue of a saint. She kept watch over him at night when the rest of the army was asleep, feeling more lost than she ever did in her brother’s court. She prayed for his soul rigorously, cross clutched tightly in her hand, hard enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

7 days of uncertainty, of prayer and fasting, of fear and loneliness. 7 days of hope and hopelessness, surrounded by untrustworthy men.

But still, she waited.

…

It was the dead of night when Ivar broke from his delirium.

He wasn’t on the battlefield anymore. He couldn’t hear the screams of his fellow warriors, the clashing of sword against sword, nor could he smell the scent of iron spewing from the blood of both enemy and ally. It was just...darkness.

Perhaps he was in Valhalla, he thought, though if that were true, then the stories were wrong. It was rather underwhelming.

But no, he was not in Valhalla either, not by the scent at least. It smelled of dried herbs, and of that revolting root the Rus princess often drank as a tea. What was it again? Ginseng?—

And then he forced his eyes to open, lashes ripping apart after spending days glued together.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he felt as if he were suffocating under the pile of furs thrown over him. His heart was beating erratically, nearly bursting from the confines of his chest as his body fought to stabilize itself.

He wheezed, his throat feeling dryer than the deserts of the Silk Road. His tongue darted out in an attempt to wet his cracked lips with little success.

Moving was an issue. He couldn’t. It hurt.

His attempt to sit up failed as a yelp ripped free from his lips, croaky and in pure agony. He fell back against the makeshift cot with a grunt.

The pain was excruciating, hot, and vicious in his lower abdomen, like a raven fighting to claw its way in. His legs, though always in a fragile state, felt worse than they had in the years since adopting the use of his braces and crutch.

He struggled to crane his neck, quick to map out his surroundings as best he could. He was in his own tent, that much was evident, as he always had it specifically set to his liking. His weapons were laid out in a corner, along with his ruined armor, crutch, and leg braces. The useless things landed him in a cot, fighting for survival.

“My love?” Her voice was enough to calm his wild heart, his neck snapping in the direction of her voice.

The princess’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from what he could only assume had been days of weeping. Beside her was a steaming cup of tea, producing that horrible smell of Ginseng that made him want to gag. When had she the time to steal the root before they left Novgorod?

Wrapped around her wrist was her gold beaded rosary, bright and shining in the candlelight. She held the cross tightly in her small fist, knuckles white from the pressure. He wondered how long she had sat by his side, praying, waiting for him to recover.

Her fingers dropped the cross, her soft hands reaching for him. Ivar could feel her hot tears drip over his bare chest as she leaned over him.

“Ivar—” She choked his name, sobs already taking hold of her body as she cupped his warm face, “You’re awake! Thank God!” More tears poured from her eyes as her mouth quivered. She lowered herself to her knees, grabbing his hand and placing kisses on the surface.

Ivar wanted to wrap her in his arms, to tell her he was fine, that the gods have not taken him yet, but his arms felt as fragile as his legs, weak from days of disuse. Instead, he brings his fingertips to her flushed cheeks, forcing her to look up at him.

“Hey,” He croaked out, using his thumb to catch another falling tear before running his fingers through her hair, “Stop crying, please, love.” His voice was not much more than a whisper. He sounded more like an old toad than a human, but it was enough to bring her weeping down to mere whimpering.

“It has been days, I thought perhaps…” She trailed off, sniffling before continuing, “I feared the worst.”

The princess was far more worried for his well-being than he ever was.

Ivar was quite content with the idea of falling in battle and ascending to Valhalla. She had not agreed with such sentiments.

It is not your time yet, his father had said to him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

“It is not my time yet,” He repeated Ragnar’s words, his hand continuing gentle motions through her soft hair, “Valhalla will have to wait a little longer, hmm?”

“Valhalla,” She hiccups, shaking her head, not fully understanding the Viking fascination with death, “Not with the way you throw yourself in battle.” She mutters, wiping her eyes.

She stood, going to the far side of the tent to fetch a bucket with a wooden ladle. She brings a hefty scoop of water to his lips, holding his head up carefully to aid him.

He drank like a mad man, the water running past his chin and down his neck.

“Debil,” She chastised him lovingly in her native tongue, eyes still moist, “Idiot. Where were your warriors?”

“Fighting for themselves,” He gasps, the cold water soothing the dryness of his throat, “Or have you forgotten the ways of war?” He croaks, his lips curling into a smile.

“What would I know of war, my love?” She offers, setting the bucket and the ladle aside once he had his fill, “Or have you forgotten I was but a sheltered princess.” She tried to make a joke of it, but she only sounded miserable saying such words. She brings a hand to smooth down his wild hair, braids unraveling into a long-twisted mess.

“In war,” Ivar begins, eyes fluttering as her nails scratched at his scalp, “You either survive or die.”

“And I suppose you wanted to die then?” A bitter tone was followed by a bitter smile. He cleared his throat, his tired eyes watching how her expression shifted through so many emotions.

His reply was honest. “If that is what the gods intended for me, then so be it. It would have been an honor.”

“What honor is there in taking me from my home, and leaving me to live out my life away from my own family and amongst men I do not know?” She snapped, though the anger was short-lived, and she lowered her eyes.

She was intrigued by Ivar from the moment she had set eyes on him, like a moth to a flame. She was happy to have left with him, happy to have relinquished her title and to have left such a sour life behind. Ivar offered her freedom, adventure, and love, things she never understood the meaning of in Kiev, but she was a fool to believe he was invincible. She had seen him rally crowds to chant his name, had seen his strengths despite his weaknesses, and yet, he bleeds red as every other man does. War takes the lives of men, and Ivar was not immune to such a fate. He welcomed it.

“You are all I have in this world, Ivar.” She spoke gently, as she did when he dreamed of her. Her fingers shifted to trace over the dark lines inked upon his heated skin. The fever had barely broken, but at least he was conscious now. “Please, my love, all I ask is that you stay alive.” Her lips quivered, “I do not think my heart could bear to see you like this again.”

Ivar felt his heart sink.

He knew she wasn’t made to live in a war camp amongst warriors. She was born into a life of gold and silver, into luxury that so many others could only dream of, and yet, she chose to go with him, a fallen king with worthless legs and a heart as dark as coal. He once had the world at his feet. He would do it all again, for her. He had to.

“Do you regret it?” He finally asked though something within him feared her answer.

“Regret what?”

“Regret leaving Kiev with me?” He reiterated, observing her features for any hint of disappointment.

“No,” The response was immediate and without hesitation, “I have been happier with you than I have been all my years in that palace.” She sighs, her hair creating a barrier between them when she lowered her head, “Oleg was not a good man.” Her words were laced in sorrow. Her brother's death still weighed heavy on her heart.

“You deserve more than this,” He said, eyes closing for a moment before bringing them back to her. Her dark brows curved up in a worrisome expression he’d seen on her many times before. “You have given up so much for me, a lonely cripple,” He chuckles when she made noises of protest, “Only the gods know why.” She considers him in silence, noting how unreal the blue of his irises were.

“Ivar?” She questioned, setting her palm on his warm chest and over his heart, silently thankful it was finally beating at a normal pace.

“You’re a princess, my love. The battlefield is no place for you.” He places his hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze.

“All I ask of you is to stay alive.” She spoke softly, her lips curving into a smile, though it wasn’t enough to reach her eyes. “I will not ask you for anything else.” She feared being alone, and rightfully so. She’d been alone all her life in the Kievan court, as expressionless and empty as those Byzantine puppets Oleg was so fond of, donning smiles that never reached her eyes.

“My sweet girl,” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “Come, I wish to embrace you.” Planting both hands firmly on the sides of the cot, he forces himself into a seated position, groaning all the while, feeling the fire burn in the pit of his belly. He grunts, eyes screwed tight as he forced himself upright.

“Ivar!” She scolds, more worried than anything else, “Stop moving! You’ll fester your wound.” She peels off the furs to reveal the gauze wrapped tightly around his mind section, the once white cloth now stained red. “Christ. I must call the healer.”

“Don’t,” Ivar pants, tugging her wrist and quickly bringing her to his side, “Please. I wish for a few minutes to ourselves before I must face the world in this weak state. Grant me this one thing, hm?”

“But your wound—”

“What, this?” He jerks his chin down toward his abdomen with a tired smile, “It is nothing but a scratch.”

“Ivar.” She warned him.

“Princess.” The amusement was clear in his tone, artfully masking his pain. He gripped her waist, tugging her forward and into his arms with a grunt. She smelled of the English forest and of summer blossoms. “I will never leave you.” He mutters the promise into her waist, still ignoring the pain, “I will give you everything you deserve, my love.”

“What of your army?” She questions quietly, fingers dancing over his bicep, “And the Saxon king? Your brother tells me he seeks peace.” Ivar scoffs.

“And he shall get it...for now.” He concludes with an angry twitch of his brow.

“What do you intend to do?” She laid her cheek over the messy strands of his chestnut brown hair.

“Recover, and take you away from this miserable land I should have never brought you to in the first place.”

“Oh, Ivar,” He felt her plant a kiss upon his hair, “I belong wherever you are.” He grunts, gripping her tightly as if she would slip right through his fingers like sand.

“Marry me.” He mutters into her soft linen dress, suddenly feeling as shy as he did when he was a boy.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.” He said, louder this time, needier, a plea falling from his lips as he tightened his hold on her. He shifts his head to look at her, imagining her with a crown of wildflowers nestled in her soft tresses. Her eyes grew round at his statement, lips parted as if to speak.

“Truly?” She asks, “Or has the fever gone to your head?” Ivar rolled his eyes fondly.

“Why would I bother asking you if I did not mean it, hmm?” His chin lightly grazed her abdomen as he peeked up at her through his lashes. “I will make you a queen, lay the world at your feet if you allow me.”

How many tears could this woman produce? He thought though he was more than satisfied knowing they were tears of joy when she erupted in giggles.

“I accept,” She wiped her eyes before arching down to place a kiss on his lips, “But, under one condition.”

“Oh?” Ivar pulls away from her, brows raised, “Go on, what is it?”

“You must drink the ginseng tea,” She offers, taking the lukewarm tea and offering it to him, “The healers would prescribe it to Oleg whenever he came back wounded from battle. It will revive your strength and clear your body of infection.” Ivar eyes the cup wearily, nose flaring at the abhorrent smell. He didn’t like it.

“It smells horrid.” He complained.

“You fight battles against fearsome enemies, and yet, are too afraid to drink an herbal tonic?” She scoffs. Ivar narrows his eyes, considers her words before muttering under his breath.

“...Very well.” He takes the cup from her, face pinched after taking a sip, “Are you satisfied now? Will you marry me?” She nods fervently, her hands laced together in her joy. A blinding smile settled on her lips like never before.

It finally reached her eyes.

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @leilabeaux​ @shannygoatgruff​ @inforapound​ @walkxthexmoon​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @peachyboneless​ @fuchsiagrasshopper​ @pomegranates-and-blood​

[quantumlocked310]

In the Bed of Love - Chapter 2

Moodboard by the incredible @flowers-in-your-hayr!!

It’s Chapter 2! This one switches POV to Hvitty’s favorite Gorgon.

Summary: Our intrepid Hero Hvitserk, burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood, takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings (so far): greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn 

Ratings + Word Count: [General - 1,765w]

Series Masterlist (contains extra notes about Greek words and some of the Gods mentioned) Now with more Gods!

Extra Relevant Note: Malakas means Asshole in Greek (according to Google Translate)

++++++++++++

The early dawn is quiet, with dew glistening off the statues in the garden, and you’re the first awake in the house. As usual you walk quietly to the dresser where you get the silk robe gifted to you from Dionysus. Enrobed you walk down to the kitchen where you take a small cup of wine and yesterday’s bread out to the garden for breakfast.

There are a few stumps scattered amongst the statues, and you sit on the one closest to one of your favorite statues. Malakas the goose, who thought himself brave one day as he bit the ankles of your sister, Sten. You and Marmor had collapsed together laughing at the swiftest of you being chased at length by the ornery goose. Sten had yelled and screamed at it, to no avail, before finally giving in and glaring it to stone, and proclaiming his name Malakas.

“Good morning, friend.” You greet the goose and pat it on the head, but notice there’s something different about him today. Inside its mouth is a piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with ink on it. You look at it puzzled, then look around the garden a little, but see no one. After dipping your bread in the wine and taking a bite, you put the cup on the stump and grab the paper. Only to immediately start coughing.

It’s a crude drawing of you standing in offense with your shield. Clearly, the artist has no skill, but it’s obvious the figure is yours both in size and you’re the only one of your sisters who can carry a shield as big as this one. You’re a little flattered, and a little suspicious. The gorgons train together every evening, but this paper wasn’t in the goose’s mouth yesterday.

After finishing the bread and wine, while staring at the drawing, a million thoughts run through your head. Foremost concern for your security, and who could be watching. The gorgons were fearsome creatures, and that attracted idiots who wished to prove themselves against a mighty foe. Hence the many armored statues around you. Then curiosity, and why this person would focus on you. Once your foes reached your gates, they usually focussed on the muscular strength of Marmor, or the svelt speed of Sten, not the chunky bulk of your body made for sturdy defence. It was useful in battle, being underestimated. But it was never an advantage for love.

Sten didn’t care about copulation or partnership, and Marmor had a sometimes-something going on with Haphaestus. You loved your sisters, and you loved your life in the Oikos, but there were days when you wanted what Aphrodite and Eros talked about or what you saw at gatherings with Dionysus. Pleasures within and beyond your dreams were always just out of reach, because you were a gorgon, a monster. The risk of loving you was too great.

Why would anyone find you beautiful enough to put on paper?

The feelings well up inside you, and burst. You crumple the drawing in your fist, a few tears escaping your eyes, and immediately regret what you’ve done. Slowly you stand and smooth the paper back out, then go back inside to place it in the drawer of your bedside table.

You put on your clothes for the day, then put on a chestplate and greaves. It’s decided, you will check the perimeter and see if you can find whoever is spying on the Oikos. On the way out you run into Sten who is weaving in the inner garden.

“I’m doing a perimeter check.”

“Would you like company?” Sten responds absentmindedly.

“I’ll be okay. Keep half an ear out in case another one of Philoctetes’ useless heroes is lurking about.”

“I dunno. The last one was cute. Maybe it’s time we had a mortal as a pet.”

You roll your eyes and counter, “I’ll be sure to mention that if I find one. I’m sure they would be willing to live under threat of getting chopped into tiny bits and fed to our snakes.”

Sten turns her head and raises an eyebrow, “You might be surprised.”

You scoff and turn to go, “I’m never surprised anymore.”

As you walk through the garden to the north side of the Oikos, you try to shake off this strange mood that the drawing has put you in. The edge of the cliff is your first stop, and you center yourself listening to the rushing waters of the Styx below. You see Charon in his ferry and raise a hand. As usual you get the most minute nod in return, and you make your way east along the forest border, taking light steps as Artemis taught you, and tuning into your snakes scenting the air.

Over halfway done, and you haven’t found anything of note. A few of the traps Sten maintains have caught small game, and you cut some of the excess string to tie them together and drape the catch over your shoulders before resetting the traps.

On the last leg of your check your snakes perk up. They sway further West and you follow, keeping your light hunting step, and making sure to draw your sword. You go further into the forest until you can no longer see the bright signal of the Oikos, and then you find it. There is a patch of disturbed leaves and earth where a small fire had been. The ashes are almost completely brushed away, and the leaves spread over to make it blend into the ground. If you did not have your snakes to guide you to the scent you would not have found it. Whoever had camped here knew how to cover their tracks.

Unfortunately, your snakes couldn’t help you track any further. They knew if something was prey, or different, but they didn’t have the skills of hunting dogs. Once you found the spot they had scented, they would not know where to track from there, and your meticulous circles around the ashes yielded no more results.

You huff to yourself and when you finally stop, your stomach gives a mighty growel and you observe the sky. You’ve missed the mid-day meal, and it was past time to start daily training. Marmor is going to be insufferable. In your haste to sate your hunger and get to training you neglect the last leg of the perimeter, much to the luck of the prowling Hvitserk who had no idea how close he came to being discovered.

When you reach the edge of the forest there’s a twang and a zing, and you twist behind the nearest tree, shield on your back, pressed against the bark. You watch the arrow dig into the wood of the tree in front of you.

“What the fuck, Sten?” You shout.

“You’re late!” Replies Marmor.

You groan to yourself then shrug the shield off your back and use its shiny metal to see where your sisters are. Slowly, you pull off your catch for dinner from around your neck, and get ready to throw them at your sisters. Raising your shield in front of your body to deflect Sten’s arrows, you launch the strung together animals over your barrier, then shove forward to put your whole weight behind your shield, in hopes that you will shock Marmor and throw her off her feet.

It works. Marmor’s annoyance has her getting thrown off briefly, and the training session really begins. You block and parry, attacking when you can, but mainly trying to cover your open spots when Sten shoots arrows toward you. You’re late, so they’re both going harder on only you.

But your head isn’t in it. The moves are harder to come into your mind than usual, your footwork not as instinctive as yesterday. An off day all because of some faceless enemy stalking in the trees. Who are you kidding, it could just be a traveller. But the way the ashes were buried has you nervous.

And the drawing. Marmor’s sword clangs against your shield just in time. How could you forget? Were they connected? Could you get away with telling your sisters about the perimeter check but not the drawing? You didn’t think so. Your gut is screaming that they’re connected.

But now your gut is screaming, because Marmor kicked you.

“Fuck you!”

“Focus up! What if an idiot hero comes here? You’re not going to win fighting them like this.”

“Oh. My. God. I know!” Your snakes start hissing as they pick up on your anger, and you keep hacking and slashing toward your sister, trying to disarm her even though you know it won’t get you anywhere.

All you want to do is stop and think for a few minutes. Plan your next moves. Figure out who is watching you and why. And why would they draw you? That’s the part that’s gnawing at you the most. There’s a weird fluttery feeling in your chest and you absolutely hate it.

You use your anger to back up your power. Attacking furiously where you would usually stay back and block. You’re reckless and Marmor gets in a few close calls with her sword. You’re trying to block a particularly vicious swing of the sword when you hear Sten call your name, the duck seems to happen in slow motion where you watch the arrow fly just past your brow, and feel the sting of a sword on your thigh. Marmor has pulled her sword down across the top of your shield and you hadn’t pulled your leg back in time.

“First blood!” Sten yells, and Marmor pulls up and stops, only looking a little apologetic.

The wound is just a scratch for you. It stings, and will heal in a few days, but first blood stops the fight.

You rest the edge of your shield on the ground and lean on it just slightly, staring at your sisters. “We have to talk. Inside. It’s not safe out here in sight of the woods.”

“You found something.” Sten remarks. You glare at her. If you’re being watched, you definitely don’t want to be heard.

“Then let’s go eat. You must be hungry, Y/N. You’ve been out all day.” Marmor says, her eyes narrowing and trying to covertly scan the treeline. She walks over and grabs the game you had thrown as a distraction earlier.

Together, you walk back to the Oikos. Quiet and a little sullen. Your sisters don’t like off days any more than you do, and they are anxious to hear what you’ve found.

++++++++++++

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @artemiseamoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash @ritual-unions-gotme @pomegranates-and-blood @mrsalwayswrite @jadelynlace​

[mrsalwayswrite]

Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 3

Woohoo!! We made it! Here is the rescue!! 

Warnings: graphic violence and an disturbing image (i’m so sorry) but the worst is behind us! yay!

All translations are via google...and there is ALOT of translations. Our “couple” finally gets talk for more than 3 seconds! Finally! 

Reminder there will be an epilogue after this. I’m hoping to have that up this weekend since i’ll have some more time. 

Tag List: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​

The arduous trek from the ship to the slavers' tents above the beach seemed to sap all the energy out of Finan. Certainly, it could not be enough for the beaten, starved slaves to carry their own bodyweight. Oh no, they were forced to carry pelts for trade. Their captors walked alongside the line of chained slaves to encourage cooperation. 

 In front of him, Uhtred stumbled in the sand, his pack of pelts slipping to the sandy ground. Landing on his knees, he stayed down. Just staring at the ground, his shoulders hunched over, head bowed. He looked like a man who had forgotten the sweet taste of freedom. Bound and chained was all he knew, all he expected in his life. So very different from the man who first boarded the slave ship last year. 

 Immediately, Finan dropped to his side, tugging on his arm. "Get up, ya have to. That's it, get up."

 "Move it, slaves!" One of the Danes screamed, quickly approaching from further down the line.

 Uhtred staggered to his feet with a grunt, eyes unfocused. Without a word, he picked up his pack of pelts and continued onward up the hill.  

 Readjusting the pack on his own back, Finan looked up to see how much further they must go. The sandy ground made walking laborious with the added weight of the pelts. He hoped they received a respite once they reached the top. Though the cynical part of him doubted it. These Danes cared nothing for their slaves, working them until they were skin-covered bones and one foot in the grave. 

 At the top of the hill, Finan could see Master Sverri standing there surveying. Next to him cowered Aine. 

 A jerk on the chains pulled Finan back from his staring. He followed the procession of slaves, keeping one eye on the unsteady ground and another on her. Since leaving Islond, he laid eyes on her only one other time. She had been marched from the back of the ship to the front and then later marched back. He guessed they were keeping her in the protected compartment where they stored the trading goods. Hopefully it would keep her from the worst of the sea. 

 When they reached the top, Finan met her eyes for as long as he could. She stared back with terrified eyes until Master Sverri shoved her to the side and she toppled, due to the chains around her ankles tripping her. 

 Without a conscious decision, he took a step as if to help her but the shackle around his ankle prevented him, along with the jeers of the Danes. So he kept moving; eventually to stand under a tent, free of the pelts but still bound. One of the other slaves wondered out loud if they would be fed and watered but another slave scoffed. Finan kept silent. 

 Rubbing his hands together to create warmth, he kept an eye on Uhtred, standing just in front of him. He knew what was wrong, why Uhtred had become a shell of himself, even more since they climbed out of the ship. He had seen it himself. Halig’s body. Still strapped to the front of the ship. The sight of it caused bile to rise in Finan’s throat. The body had been defiled by the waves and curious creatures in the water. Ropes still wrapped around the ankles and wrists, holding him prisoner. Even in death. 

 Shifting his gaze, Finan looked across, trying to locate Aine once again.  He worried what it meant for her to be here. Was Master Sverri planning on selling her? Leaving her here? Or would she continue to travel with them as his own personal slave while on the ship? Thoughts of her fate filled him with both dread and rage. He promised to keep her safe, to free her. He could not do that if she was sold to another. 

 To his surprise, Master Sverri walked towards the group of slaves, followed by a Dane with a black eye patch and a few others in their wake. 

 What transpired next was something out of a fever dream surely. 

 The Dane with the eyepatch tried to goad Uhtred into fighting him. By the way that Master Sverri and the other Danes treated him, this one-eyed Dane was someone of importance. The man had a sword tossed at Uhtred’s feet, pulling his sword out casually. 

 "He's too weak." Finan said, begging for this not to happen. Hoping there would be mercy. Hoping Uhtred would not take the bait, that he would stay submissive for once. He could see Uhtred's arms and legs quivering from fatigue and weakness. After all they had been through, after all they endured, he could not bear to watch Uhtred die. Especially by this pompous arse. This could not be his end. 

 It did not matter. The fool still picked up the sword and threatened the one-eyed man, showing more life in that moment than he had since Halig was taken. "I will kill you."

 "Uhtred, I am pleased you will try."

 Finan thought he would witness his friend, his newfound brother in all but blood, be decapitated. Fallen to his knees before the one-eyed man, Uhtred just watched as the one-eyed man drew back his sword. Finan covered his mouth with his hand, willing himself not to cry out. He closed his eyes, unable to watch what would surely happen. Death. Uhtred's death. At least it would be swift. Yet he could not witness this. He refused to. 

 Just when the sword was to be swung...horses burst over the ridge and charged the Danes. 

 He stood frozen in shock. Saxons, a woman and a large blond Dane rode through the slavers and those that came with the one-eyed man, killing them without hesitation. The Danes ran haphazardly, none fighting back but moving like rats escaping a sinking ship. Shouts and battle cries replaced the sounds of the crashing waves and seagulls. 

 It was chaos. It was mayhem. It was a slaughter. 

 None of the slaves moved, none dared believed what they saw before their eyes. Was this freedom or new masters? What would become of them? Their shock and chains kept them stationary. 

 The large, blond Dane approached Uhtred, claiming to be a name named Ragnar. At hearing Uhtred's broken voice, his silent plea in just the utterance of his name, Finan felt tears come to his eyes. 

 "Free them all." 

 Finan looked around as he felt one of the Saxon soldiers hammering away at the chain with a sword. He stepped out of his shackle, an almost euphoric feel. He was free. They were free. No more rowing. No more chains. No more beatings. 

 Finally free…

 With that thought, he started scanning around for the one he promised freedom too. He had seen her last when Master Sverri tripped her. Where would the bastard have taken her? Finan took a step forward, his gaze searching everywhere. She had to be here still. She must be. 

 Movement on the far side of the tents, drew his eye. Master Sverri stumbled, a hand pressed to his ribs...and at his side, he forced Aine to walk, pulling on the rope wrapped around her wrists. She followed slowly, looking over her shoulder continuously as the other slaves were being freed. She stopped at one point, eyes wide and mouth parted. The stilted movement caught Master Sverri off guard. He yanked on the rope but when Aine refused to move, digging her feet into the ground. He grabbed her forearm roughly and pulled, forcing her compliance. 

 The Irishman knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. What he had dreamt about for almost two years...and now no one would stop him. 

 Without looking away from his target, he snatched the sword lying next to Uhtred and stalked over. His legs threatened to buckle under him due to the weight of the sword. A familiar feel, a sword in hand. A piece of him clicked back into place as his fingers curled around the handle. A warrior. He was a warrior once again. 

 "Finan…" Aine mouthed his name like a prayer as he drew closer, never taking her gaze off him. Her brown hair hung limply in its usual braid down her back. Her dress was torn and dirty.

 It was as he came closer, the simmering rage under his skin rose into an inferno. Closer now he could see the bloodied lip on her dirty face, the bruises on her cheek and wrists, and the haunting, dark circles under her eyes. Yet it was the way she watched him approach, not out of fear even though his intent was evident, a sword in hand and flames in his eyes. Hope and awe gleamed in her bronze eyes. She watched him as if he were a conquering hero from childhood stories. Which could not be further from the truth. 

 A snarl grew on his face as he surveyed her pain. Not directed at her, no, never at her...but at the one who inflicted it. 

 Master Sverri turned around, hearing his staggering approach. His gaze met Finan's and hardened. "What, slave? Come to kill me? Come to take the bitch?" Angrily he threw down the end of the rope and shoved her away, making her stumble. "Take her. She's useless anyway. Take her and go!"

 "Aye, but first ya must do somethin'."

 "What?" He sneered, hand still pressed to the wound on his side.

 With that, Finan thrust the blade through the slaver's throat. His blue eyes bulged and blood seeped into his mouth, painting it red at the intrusion. "Pull." He commanded then withdrew the blade. It slipped out, covered in red, an offering of the bastard's life force. Finan watched the man whom he swore to kill, fall over dead. His blood staining the sand below. 

 Finan stood there for a long moment, staring down at the crumpled form of the bastard. It was over. He should feel relieved, elated, avenged. Right now though, he just felt exhausted. His hand shook with the weight of the sword still hanging from it. His body felt on the verge of collapsing from the adrenaline coursing through him. It was the sound of a shaky breath that reminded him he was not alone. 

 Looking up, he met Aine's wide eyes. Both stared at each other in unbelief. 

 “Rinne tú é. Shaoradh tú mé.” She whispered, bottom lip quivering. Slowly, as if her feet were unsteady, she stepped closer to him, eyes still holding his. (You did it. You freed me.)

 Suddenly remembering the rope binding her wrists, he dropped the sword in a rush. Reaching forward, fingers fumbling, he untied the rope then watched it fall. That sight, even more so than the dead body near them, gave him pause. She was free...and that bastard could never touch her again. He fulfilled his promise. 

 Gently, almost hesitantly she touched the tips of her fingers against his cheek, bringing his attention back to her. His eyes closed briefly unconsciously at the soft touch. So long he longed for her gentle touch, to save and protect her. Now it was done. They were free. He opened his eyes to see fresh tears escaping from both her eyes. Carefully he cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tear and grime on her fair skin. 

 A quiet sob broke from her lips. “Rinne tú é, Finan.” (You did it, Finan.)

 As if drawn together, they collapsed in the sand, arms around one another. Tears streamed down both of their faces unhindered. Neither paid attention to those looking on. Their captors were dead. Blood still coated the sword used to kill the man they both loathed. Years of pain, torment and despair was released as they clung onto one another, their tears cleansing more than just their faces. 

 “Táimid saor, a stór, táimid saor in aisce.” He whispered repeatedly into her hair, unsure if it was reassurance for himself or for her. It all felt like a dream. Yet as she just held onto him tighter, her face buried in his chest, he knew it was no dream. (We are free, my treasure, we are free.) 

 They were free.

 *****

 The fire crackled before her, providing warmth and light against the darkness of night. Aine stared at the flames dancing. For the first time in years, her stomach was pleasantly full and warmth hugged her like a long-lost friend. 

 The others around the fire conversed, particularly the Dane- Ragnar. He spoke to Finan's friend, Uhtred, about what was occurring in the different kingdoms. 

 Aine only half paid attention. None of it interested her truthfully. The places and people mentioned meant nothing to her. The words flowed around her carelessly, her main interest was the flames and sensation of being warm and fed. 

 Anxiety rose in her chest as she peeked at strangers around the fire. She tightened the blanket around her shoulders, more for the self-comfort than the needed warmth. The action drew the eye of the man to her side. Finan tenderly reached over and slipped his fingers between hers. She squeezed back, surprising herself when she leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder. They had only held hands in the past, pressed their foreheads against the slats, pretending to touch one another. Now that they could actually touch, actually hug and be close, she found herself unable to be far from his side. She also trusted him completely. His presence was a solace she desperately needed, especially amongst all the new strangers. Her mind preyed on her fears that she would be alone, discarded eventually. Yet with him by her side and his promise repeated in an endless loop in her mind, she fought back the fears. 

 Finan broke the uncomfortable silence that descended over the small camp. "So, ya Uhtred's brother...ya look nothin' like each other."

 Aine smiled while the others laughed. 

 "Eat." The fighting nun said, trying to pass the extra food to the ex-slaves. Uhtred silently declined, bringing a frown to her kind face but she relented. Next, she held out the bowl towards Finan and Aine. 

 Finan peeked at Aine, giving her hand a brief squeeze to get her attention. When she gave a small shake of her head against him, he looked at the nun. "Our tongues are small and our feet have barely touched dry land...it'll take a little while."

 That seemed to satisfy the nun. She smiled at them and set the bowl back down, no longer pressing the issue.

 "And you," Ragnar pointedly looked at Aine. "How did you come to be here?"

 Stiffening as he seemed to examine her, she hesitated. How could she explain? Would they reject her if they knew? Everything she had been through, the thought of laying it out in front of all these strangers made her mouth dry and throat close up. All she wanted to do was forget it all. 

 When Uhtred spoke, it surprised everyone. His voice was rough from disuse and crying earlier.  "She gave us food and blankets. She kept us alive."

 Ragnar nodded, eyes softening as he looked from Uhtred back to her. "Mmm...for that you have my thanks."

 Finan pressed his cheek to the top of her head, drawing a small smile from her. The group sat quietly for a time, the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of the waves embracing the silence. 

 "The night is late. We need to rest." The nun said, standing up and dusting off her dress. She looked down at Aine. "Would you prefer to stay near me or…" Her gaze flickered to Finan and back. 

 "Cad ab fhearr leat?" He whispered, giving her the choice. (What would you prefer?)

 Although it was not much of a choice, her answer obvious to her. "Ba mhaith liom fanacht leat. Tá muinín agam asat ... níl aithne agam orthu." (I want to stay with you. I trust you… I don't know them.) 

 Finan looked up at the nun. "She'll stay with me, if ya don't mind. I made a promise to keep her safe and I mean to keep it."

 The nun smiled. "Very good."

 They all settled for the night, each finding their own spot in the grassy plain above the beach. Several fires burned around them, for the warriors and other ex-slaves still lingering about. A few slaves had scattered already but most seemed to be in a state of shock at the change of fate.  

 Aine laid on the grass, staring up at the stars. She snuggled further into the blanket wrapped around her. After all the events of the day, she assumed she would be exhausted and drift to sleep immediately; but found sleep eluded her. The nearby sounds of snores, shuffling, and a few of the warriors talking quietly as they kept guard surrounded her. The ocean waves crashed down on the beach and the call of seagulls could still be heard. She blinked slowly, watching the stars twinkle above. 

 "Caithfidh tú dul a chodladh." (You need to go to sleep.)

 She smiled at Finan's sleepy comment, thinking he had dozed off some time ago. He lay to her right, able to feel his body heat even through her blanket. Initially, he had tried to put some appropriate distance between them but she did not care. After everything they endured, she needed him close. She startled a bark of laughter from him as she rolled over, placing her head against his shoulder. He just pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and settled back, hugging his own blanket to him. 

 "Na réaltaí ... is cosúil go bhfuil siad níos gile." (The stars...they seem brighter.)

 "Aye?" He yawned, turning to his side to face her. Carefully, he reached over and held her hand. "Téigh a chodladh, Aine. Ní aisling é. Nuair a dhúisímid, beidh muid saor fós." (Go to sleep, Aine. It's not a dream. When we wake, we'll still be free.)

 She squeezed his hand and rolled over to face him fully. Watching him, she brought their joined hands towards her face, rubbing the back of his hand on her cheek. Was that why she could not sleep? For fear that when she woke, she would be back in Islond or on the ship? That this would all only be a beautiful dream to torment her. Or when she awoke, she would be all alone? But this was real though. The feeling of his calloused hand in hers, the rough and chapped skin against her cheek. The grass beneath her and the stars above. This was real. Plus she knew, in the depths of her soul, he would not abandon her. He promised. She would not be alone. Without a second thought, she kissed the back of his hand, tasting the lingering salt from the sea on him. 

 "Ní féidir liom a rá leat cé chomh minic a smaoinigh mé ort. Conas a mhothódh sé tú a shealbhú, teagmháil a dhéanamh leat, tú a fheiceáil ag gáire agus ag gáire." He ran his thumb over her lips, eyes locked on the movement as he confessed his secret. (I cannot tell you how often I thought about you. How it would feel to hold you, to touch you, to see you smile and laugh.)

 "Tá mé anseo ... agus táimid saor." (I am here...and we are free.)

 "Sea, scíth anois.” He tugged her closer to wrap an arm around her waist and guide her head to his chest. "Cosnóidh mé tú." (Yes, now rest. // I'll protect you.)

 *****

 "Are you Finan's woman?"

 Aine startled at the question, looking over her shoulder at the fighting nun- Hild, she said her name was.

 She paid no mind to the sudden tension hovering over Aine as she continued her train of thought. "He seems a good man. Clearly he cares for you...and you him."

 "I... I am not sure."

 Silence settled between them as Hild continued to brush Aine's long hair, trying somewhat successfully to get the knots and tangles out. 

 When Aine woke up that morning, still cuddled in Finan's arms, tears filled her eyes. This was not a dream. It was all still real. She was still free. Finan was safe and free. She pressed her head back to his chest, wanting to linger in the peaceful moment. The feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heartbeat under her cheek, the warmth from the blanket and Finan still swaddling her. It was the most peace she had found in years. 

 A soft growl of her stomach brought her back to reality. Carefully, she slipped out of his embrace, hoping he would sleep as long as he could. Most of the camp was awake at this point, the sun showed it was mid-morning. Hild found Aine before she could even begin looking for her. After eating, they searched for new clothes for herself and the ex-slaves still around. Aine found herself enjoying Hild, the peaceful presence of this woman was something Aine did not know she craved until she found herself dwelling in it. For so long she had lived in constant fear and anxiety. Around the men, Aine still found herself lowering her head, refusing to meet their eyes. 

 Hild brought Aine to a small nearby lake where Aine was able to cleanse the grime, dried blood and saltwater from her body and hair. It felt completely divine. The cold water caused goosebumps to appear on her skin. She wished she could wallow in the water. To have it cleanse her body and her soul... but Hild reminded her the men might want a turn cleaning themselves also. That was enough to get her out of the water and into her new, dry clothes. 

 Now they sat under a large tree, just within sight of the camp but far enough away to have a guise of privacy. Aine picked at the dark blue kirtle they managed to find for her in one of the slaver's tents. She also wore a white shift underneath the kirtle and Hild magically found a thin belt to wrap around her waist. With the new clothes, clean skin and body, and her hair being brushed out, Aine felt a renewal bubbling within her. No longer did she feel like a freed slave. She was a woman again. The feeling of her brown hair, hanging softly down her back, a brush sweeping through the locks, the dress covering her completely, it all felt so normal. Though she knew it would take time before she felt like Aine before her time as a slave...if she ever was that person again. For now though, she tried to enjoy the rejuvenation as she soaked in the sun.

 "What will you do now? Will you join us or do you wish to return home?" Hild asked, interrupting her thoughts. 

 Aine opened her mouth but no words came out. What was to be done with her? What did she want now? Questions she had been denied to even think for years felt like they clogged her throat. She had to make a choice. Would they even want her to stay? 

 Hild must have sensed her fear and confusion for she kindly tapped her shoulder before she rose. "You do not need an answer now. Just think on it. Wessex is a good place to call home. If you do not wish to travel with us. I know of a nunnery nearby you could stay until you decide."

 Aine nodded. Thankful Hild did not press for an immediate answer. 

 "Tell me about...Wessex." She hesitantly said. 

 So Hild spoke of Wessex and King Alfred as they walked back to camp. Aine was surprised to see Finan sitting around a low fire, talking and eating with Ragnar and the scary Saxon warrior- Steapa. As the two women approached, all eyes turned to them. It was the pair of warm, brown ones that Aine focused on. When they noticed her, they widened almost comically, never leaving her own. 

 "Uhtred still sleeping?" Hild asked, moving towards her pack. 

 "Aye." Ragnar answered. 

 Hild hummed then turned to the Irishman. "Finan, we have found some new clothes for you and I can trim your hair if you would like."

 "I'll do it." Aine blurted out loudly, immediately regretting it but unable to retrieve the words from the air. The others glanced at her, Hild raising a single eyebrow. Aine fiddled with her dress, ignoring their looks, as she coughed then spoke up again. "I... I’ll trim it...um, his hair."

 "Aye...aye, that be kind, thank ya." He jumped to his feet as he answered, his gaze only flitting to Hild before returning to Aine. 

 Hild handed Aine her scissors, a small smile on her face and a seemingly knowing look. "When you're finished, I'll take those and find Uhtred. Take your time though."

 A blush warmed Aine's cheeks but she tried to ignore it as she started walking back to the spot her and Hild had just been. Finan followed on her side, frequently stealing glances at her making her blush grow. 

 "Cad?" She finally asked. (What?)

 He chuckled, shaking his head. "Feiceann tú.... álainn." (You look...beautiful.)

 "Tá sé na héadaí." (It's the clothes.)

 "Níl ... is tú féin é." He winked at her when she glanced his way. (No...it is you.)

 Aine bit her bottom lip, casting her gaze downward. Butterflies erupted in her belly. She was unsure why this interaction felt different. More potent. More intimate. She had slept in his arms last night...but this felt different. 

 He sat down where she indicated on the patchy grass. Kneeling behind him, she started to cut his long, unkempt hair. With each snip, each strand of hair falling to the ground, his shoulders seemed to straighten slightly as if a physical weight was being lifted. When she was almost done, his hair cut close to his head, she voiced the very question Hild asked her. Needing to know his answer. Desperate for it. 

 "Ar shocraigh tú cad a dhéanfaidh tú ... nuair a fhágfaidh siad?" (Have you decided what you will do...when they leave?)

 "Ceapaim…" He sighed, rubbing a hand over his scraggly beard. "Ní féidir liom dul ar ais go hÉirinn. Níl aon rud ann domsa, ní tar éis ..." (I think… // I cannot go back to Irland. There is nothing for me there, not after…)

 She watched him clench his fists as if cutting off his words physically. They had never talked about the depths of their pasts, what brought them to slavery. Topics neither one wanted to remember. So, hearing he could not return to Irland shocked her. 

 "An bhfanfaidh tú ansin? Taisteal leo?" (Will you stay then? Travel with them?)

 "Uhtred ... is deartháir dom anois é. Is cosúil gur fir mhaith iad na daoine eile ... agus an bhean atá ag troid." He grinned then looked over his shoulder at her. "Agus tú? Cad a dhéanfaidh tú?" (Uhtred...he is a brother to me now. The others seem like good men...and the fighting woman. // And you? What will you do?)

 What would she do?

 She moved to kneel in front of him, starting to trim at his beard. His eyes pierced as he watched her, waiting for her answer. She knew what she wanted to do, where she wanted to be...but could that be her future? It felt like a lump in her throat, refusing to dislodge. 

 "Mo bhaile ... rinne na Danair ionsaí ar mo shráidbhaile. Maraíodh gach duine ach ... ach an cúpla duine againn tógtha mar sclábhaithe. Níl aon rud ann domsa ach an oiread." She confessed, tears pricking her eyes at the memory. Something she had shoved so far back in her memories she hoped it would never see the light of day. The screams of her sisters, blood coating the filthy hands that held her down, fire reaching into the sky as it devoured her home, the maniacal laughter of the Danes...death...death everywhere she looked. (My home...my village was attacked by the Danes. Everyone was slaughtered but...but the few of us taken as slaves. There is nothing for me there either.)

 She did not realize her hands had started to shake with the memory until Finan clasped them between his, rubbing his thumbs along her skin. She tried to focus on his touch, the calluses on his hands, the warmth they provided, the strength in them. Anything but what she witnessed, of what had so violently been destroyed. 

 "Tá brón orm, Aine." (I am sorry, Aine.)

 His words jolted her back to her senses. Swiftly, she slipped her hands from his, running them over her cheeks and eyes even though no tears had fallen. Without a word, she continued trimming his beard, bringing it to his jawline. He watched as if studying her, trying to read the secrets that lay in her eyes. Biting her bottom lip, she focused on the task at hand, refusing to meet his eyes. Though staying focused became difficult as an incredibly attractive man began to take form under her hands. Once done, her hand rubbed along his jawline, tracing it. Not just for stray hairs but to touch him once again. 

 To her surprise, his hand cupped hers on the side of his face, holding it there. "Fan liom, a stór." (Stay with me, my treasure.)

 She stared at him in shock. 

 "Fan liom. Coinneoidh mé slán tú. Níl a fhios agam cad atá os ár gcomhair ach déanfaidh mé gach rud chun a chinntiú go dtugtar aire duit ... agus sásta ... ach fan." His words seemed to tumble out of his mouth, desperate to fill the air between them. (Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I do not know what lies before us but I'll do everything to make sure you are taken care of...and happy...just stay.)

 She stroked his cheek, thinking on his words. Could this be her future? This man before her, who befriended her through slats and slavery, who once again gave her a reason to laugh, who became as important to her as the breath in her lungs. Was this her fate? She finally spoke, hesitantly. "Agus má dhéanaim ... cad a bheidh mé?" (And if I do...what will I be?)

 His brows furrowed. "Cad atá i gceist agat? Tá tú saor." (What do you mean? You are free.)

 "Níl ..." She glanced down, scared to meet his eyes but when his thumb skimmed her lips, her eyes returned to his. "An mise do bhean?" (No… // Will I be your woman?)

 His eyes widened momentarily and he sucked in a sharp breath. Before she could retract her hand, waiting for his rejection, he kept it firmly against his cheek. "Ar mhaith leat é sin? An é sin a theastaíonn uait?" (Would you like that? Is that what you want?)

 "Sea." She whispered. (Yes.)

 "Sea?”  A grin spread over his face. "An bhfuil tú cinnte?" (Yes? // Are you sure?)

 "Thug tú ar ais an saol dom ... shábháil tú mé. Is mian liom a bheith le do thaobh." (You brought me back to life...you saved me. I wish to be by your side.)

 He cupped the back of her head, bringing their foreheads together. "Aine, a ghrá, níl tuillte agam duit." (Aine, my love, I do not deserve you.)

 "Tá tú agam ar aon bhealach, más mian leat mé." (You have me either way, if you want me.)

 "I gcónaí, riamh ó thug tú orm gáire a dhéanamh sa pheann, ag insint dom conas a mhallaigh mé agus sin mar a bhí a fhios agat gur Éireannach mé. Sin nuair a bhí a fhios agam ... theastaigh uaim leat mé." (Always, ever since you made me laugh in the pen, telling me how I cursed and that's how you knew I was Irish. That's when I knew...I wanted you with me.) 

 Aine huffed a laugh. "Ní raibh ansin ach an dara huair a thug mé cuairt ort." (That was only the second time I visited you.)

 "Is cuma. Ba tú mo dhóchas agus mo shlánaithe..." He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. "... Ba mhaith liom tú a phógadh anois." (Does not matter. You were my hope and my salvation… // ...I would like to kiss you now.)

 "Le do thoil…" (Please…)

 He tipped his head, slanting his lips over hers. Even though they were wind-burnt and chapped, tasting of salt and the stew he had been eating, Aine thought she had never tasted anything better. His hands held her face so delicately, his lips touched her with such reverence like she was a treasured prize. Never before had someone touched her with such care, such adoration. It was addicting. They broke apart after a moment. A short and sweet kiss that brought giddy smiles to both of their faces. 

 "Mo bhean ... mo ghrá ..." He murmured, carding his fingers through her hair. His eyes alight with devotion and a lazy smirk on his lips. (My woman…my love…) 

 She beamed, warmth streaming from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. For a moment she wondered if this was a dream. The two of them sitting there in the sun, faces still so close, one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest, his hands in her hair. Her lips still tingled with the taste of his kiss. Here was someone who wanted her, cared for her, protected her. She would not be alone. 

 “An aisling é seo?” (Is this a dream?)

 He chuckled, nuzzling her as he pulled her closer. “Más ea, níor mhaith liom múscailt.” (If it is, I do not wish to wake.)

 It had to be impossible for her heart to flood even more with affection for him...but somehow it did. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and pressed their lips together. This kiss lasted longer than their first and ended with her mostly in his lap, hands in each other's hair and both breathless. Their chests rose and fell heavily as they beheld one another. The air around them thick with unspoken promises and declarations in the morning sunlight. Both of their lips swollen and red from the sudden passion, hair slightly messy now but neither cared. So much pain and torment had led to this moment...this moment of perfection. 

 Finan raised his eyebrows, mischievous gleam peeking past the dilated pupils. "Ó? An é seo an rud a chaithfidh mé dul i dtaithí air? An bhfuil tú ag goid póga uaim?" (Oh? Is this something I'll have to get used to? You stealing kisses from me?)

 "Mmm ... tá amhras mór orm go dtroidfidh tú an iomarca ar ais ach más fearr leat pógfaidh mé duine eile ..." (Mmm...I highly doubt you'll fight back too much but if you prefer I kiss someone else…)

 He slammed his mouth against hers, cutting off her words. She giggled through the kiss but returned it with equal ardor. When he finally released her, his lips hovered over hers possessively. "Riamh." (Never.)

 "Go maith."She wiggled out of his lap, even as he tried to pull her back down. She stood up and faced him, pointing a finger at him. "Má aimsím tú ag pógadh duine éigin eile, gearrfaidh mé do choileach as." (Good. // If I find you kissing someone else, I'll cut your cock off.)

 He stared at her dumbly for a second then threw his head back laughing uproariously, something she had never seen him do before now. She decided the sound might be her new favorite thing and she hoped to hear it every day in the future.

 "Bhí a fhios agam go raibh tine ionat." He teased, rising to his feet. (I knew there was a fire in you.)

 She shrugged. "Tá Gaeilge agam." (I'm Irish.)

 "Go bhfuil tú ... mo Ghrá." He stepped closer. Pressing his forehead to hers, he entwined their fingers together. "Cuirimid tús lenár saol nua anois, le chéile."  ("That you are...my Iove. //  We start our new lives now, together.)

"Le chéile." (Together.)

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt1

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

Prologue   Next

“What is your name child?” Marinette just glared at the woman in front of her, her seven year old body trembling in both fear and rage. She’d run out of tears hours ago and now she could only try to follow her Maman’s teaching. Stand tall and proud no matter what happens and don’t talk to strangers. The fact that she wanted to scratch the woman’s eyes out helped her attitude greatly. “That attitude of yours will serve you well on the whole, but being defiant towards me is a grave error girl.”

“She is my match mother you can’t just expect her to roll over and beg.” The boy next to her spoke up and she was forced to acknowledge his presence again. He was about her age and as much as she wanted to like him all she could think about was his hands holding her back. She felt that the string connecting them was a curse and that put another knot in her stomach. How often had her parents told her that soulmates, especially ones with a red string, were a gift to be treasured? Strings came in all different colors and could even form between people after they’d met,  but red strings were rare and she knew that, even if her parents said she was too young for them to tell her why.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense. If she doesn’t want to talk fine. You wanted her, you can name her.” The woman stalked out of the room leaving her alone with the boy. She tried to find something in him to like, but his past actions and the cold calculating look in his eyes were things she just couldn’t see past.

“I’m Damian al Ghul, heir to Ra’s al Ghul and you will become worthy of me. Now what is your name.” Marinette just glared at him too. How dare he talk to her that way. She was fine the way she was, just like her Papa said. She saw a flash of approval in his eyes at her continued silence before annoyance took over. “Fine have it your way. Until you’ve learned your place and tell me your name I’ll call you… Eanid. Yes that will do nicely.”

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

Marinette started awake quickly getting her bearings and remembering where she was. She glanced at the time on her phone before relaxing back into her seat. She was on a train to Paris and there was still three hours left before she got there. The nightmares were a constant in her life and had been since that night. It had been a long time since that particular one had surfaced though. It was her last night in Paris and now that she was going back it must have triggered it. She pushed down the memories and tried to clear her mind as she watched the sky out the window.

“Everything alright sweetheart?” The woman across from her spoke up and Marinette forced herself not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t facing the woman but if she was paying attention she’d see it in the glass. Instead she turned to offer her a bright smile.

“Fine, thank you. Just a strange dream. It’s very kind of you to ask Mme Arsenau.” The woman seemed to think she needed to keep an eye on Marinette. Yes she was small even for her age but she’d told the woman that her parents had put her on the train to go visit her grandparents who would be picking her up. She still insisted that she should help Marinette find them once they got there. She was already planning how she’d ditch the woman, hopefully before they got off the train.

Yes, she was just being a kind and concerned adult but it was very inconvenient for Marinette at the moment. It didn’t help that she could barely remember a time when adults were more than targets or obstacles to overcome. She should be going over the information she’d gathered about the situation in Paris but the way Mme. Arsenau was hovering made that next to impossible. It would be one thing if it was just articles on the attacks, and those she had looked at, but what she really needed to study were maps and building layouts, demographics and target areas. The maps might be excusable as a tourist but the others would look suspicious especially for a child.

Her plan was less than half formed and that was unacceptable. Adding magic into the equation was always a headache but given this villain’s unique skill set there was only one way to find him quickly and she wasn’t honestly certain it was a good idea. If she didn’t do it though, she was in for a long stay when she could be taking other jobs and getting paid. There were too many unknowns and the Mayor was useless for information. The heroes didn’t seem like they’d be much help either judging from the videos she’d seen. They were holding their own for now but it was obvious that neither were trained for battle. The catboy had training in fencing but that seemed to be it and didn’t always translate well to the fighting they had to do. They were also playing defense so they’d be no help in finding Hawkmoth’s physical location anyway.

“Don’t worry about that awful man dear. Getting yourself worked up will only make you a target and I’m sure the heroes or the police will have him sorted out soon.” Marinette fought once again to keep a straight face. If only she knew.  “Do you know if your grandparents have anything fun planned for your stay? You should get them to take you…” And she was off. Marinette spent the rest of the train ride listening to all the amazing things Paris had to offer. She tried her best to act engaged, and felt she pulled it off fairly well, but she was beyond relieved when the conductor announced they were fifteen minutes from their destination.

***Eanid means stubborn in Arabic, assuming of course google isn’t screwing with me***

Prologue    Next

Ko-Fi

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[scenarios-hq]

hiiii i've just recently read your works and i love them! is it fine to request a headcanon of the setter squad with a foreign s/o? all goods if it'll take a while :3 thanks :3

Hello! I wasn’t sure if you meant all setters or the pretty setter squad so I just wrote for the first setters that came to mind hh. For some reason the headcanons just flowed when it came to these 3 setters. So if I forgot someone you wanted me to write about please don’t be afraid to send an another request!

Kageyama

I can actually see him wanting to learn his s/o language. 

Because now he actually has a good reason to learn a new language – unlike with English (unless that’s his s/o mother tongue) that he claims to suck at memorizing. 

Being able to speak his s/o mother tongue is a motivator in itself.  

Both of you will randomly teach each other words in your respective language. 

Like the two of you could be taking a walk and you’d see something on the streets.

And one of you would just randomly tell the other what it is in your own language.

You always found it fascinating when he explained to you about Japanese traditions and foods.

Which in turn led to you talking about common foods and traditions from your own country. 

Which Kageyama, just like you, finds absolutely fascinating. 

He will eat anything you feed him because he wants to get to know your culture and food is always a good way to go.

Oikawa

Would be a hoarder. 

Like whenever the two of you visit your home country he’d just buy everything that is not available in Japan.

To be honest, he would even buy things that are available in Japan, just because it’s in his s/o country.  

I can see him quickly bonding with his s/o family even if they don’t speak the same language. 

First thing he’d learn how to say in your language would be I love you – just so he can shock you with it during your conversations later.  

If his s/o doesn’t speak Japanese I can definitely see him teach you handy Japanese phrases you will need. 

Atsumu

Will also teach his s/o some handy Japanese sentences, if they do not speak it.

..But he will not let this opportunity slip by and lie to you about what the meaning of words really are. 

Like he will tell you that the word for ear is mouth and so on.

He can’t help it he finds it cute and hilarious at the same time.

Friendly reminder that Atsumu is from the Kansai region, so the words he teaches you will be in that dialect.

Is not afraid to use google translate during fights if his s/o speaks to him in their own language. 

Both of you will teach each other cuss words in your mother tongue. 

..Or words that are completely useless in daily life.  

If you happen to mispronounce anything, he will literally die over how cute you sound.

[randomnameless]

Heroes characterisation analysis time again, with Seiros bcs i’m trash and I was wondering maybe Seiros’d reveal some stuff about the WoH

Inoue!Seiros wise, Seiros is genki!Rhea

I pointed out in a different post, but I’ll forever regret not being able to have a dual audio. Someone on redshit pointed out how Inoue feels too soft and feminine (?) for Seiros, but for me, it’s the contrary. Leigh!Seiros sounds so monotone.

@ultrakatua​ : you said something about directions given to the VA, and I’m pretty sure Inoue got a different one from Leigh, just by looking at the lvl 40 quote localised Seiros goes :

OG!Seiros?

Your kind are frail, ignorant creatures, incapable of accomplishing anything without the guidance of the goddess.

...Or so I had thought. But I have been forced to realize, meeting the Heroes here, that I was wrong.

You in particular stand apart as well... You are different from the rest. Special in some way.

My instincts are not often wrong...

If you continue to fight for this world, I will fight by your side, as a warrior. As an equal.

And I know the goddess will be watching over you as well. 

Through Google Translate (i know) the localised “my instincts are not often wrong” was originally “ Fufu ... My intuition is right, right?” OG!Seiros sounds more playful than localised!Seiros.

人の子など、 主のお導きなくしては何もできぬ、 脆弱で蒙昧な存在…

…と、思っていましたが、あなたや、 この世界に集った英雄たちを見るにつけ、 その考えが誤りであったと気づかされます。

とりわけ、あなたは他の誰とも異なる 特別な存在に思えてなりません。 ふふ…私の直感は当たるのですよ？

この世界で、あなたがこれからも 戦い続けるならば、私もあなたと対等な 一人の戦士として共に戦うつもりです。

天上におわす女神も、 きっとあなたのことを 見守っていてくださることでしょう…。 

Anyways, back to the dialogue, since I’ve already talked about this, let’s talk about this monstruosity of a Lv 40 Support - remember, in heroes or modern!FEs, if it has an avatar, it must be worshipped “you are so special” “i was lonely before you” *war flashbacks of the Loki-Aversa Forging bonds*.

Also, while FEH can be surprisingly astute with characterisation sometimes, some other times it just fail hard (remember Arvis and his “Hellfire” when Fjalar is seen as a symbol of justice and something to be proud of? Or whatever the fuck were Saias’s lines.)

Back on topic :

“Your kind are frail, ignorant creatures, incapable of accomplishing anything without the guidance of the goddess.”

Funny how I posted “recently” something about Macuil and Indech who have interesting staggering blow’s lines, deriding humans, thinking they’re children or “insignificant creatures”.

Post Zanado she might have shared her bros’s views on humans. And yet it feels odd, because we know Seiros built the canal in Enbarr and apparently accomplished “miracles” so randoms wanted to follow her. Was she sneering at humans while helping them because she thought she had to help them like Sothis did? Or did she help them because it was something she genuinely wanted to do? Or because she was planning to build her army of “frail and ignorant creatures”? Still, this is something she used to believe but she revised her opinion.

“...Or so I had thought. But I have been forced to realize, meeting the Heroes here, that I was wrong.“

Bleh - but point is, Seiros realised she was wrong, even in the canon FE16 gave us. Rhea is legit saddened to fight her loser’s descendant, whatever Willy was, even if he needed her help to create his Empire, he was not a “frail and ignorant creature, incapable of accomplishing anything without the guidance of the goddess” anymore. I won’t bank on every legacy golem being named after a human ally, but you’re not naming uh... guardians after creatures you don’t care at least a little about. if she was saved by a frail, ignorant creature unable to do anything without the goddess’s guidance, then what is she?

So if this is the canon FEH gives us “Seiros sneered at humans before meeting Summoner-chan and the heroes here” I’ll die by my own headcanon that Seiros used to think humans were nothing, then meeting the humans from Enbarr she started to grow fond of them and made that canal and then when she met Wilhelm and his pals (randoms creating her church ?) she grew fond of them as kind of equals.

ZZZ

“You in particular stand apart as well... You are different from the rest. Special in some way.

My instincts are not often wrong... “

There is nothing to extract from this bar “you’re so awesome summoner-chan!” Cruel nod though, now that I think of it : If Seiros trusted her instincts to side with Wilhelm I because dude was, apparently, a good guy, her instincts didn’t warn her 1000 years later Wilhelm’s descendant would turn against her.

If you continue to fight for this world, I will fight by your side, as a warrior. As an equal.

Seiros wishes to fight for the world with someone who fights for the world as well. I don’t know what she means by “fight for the world”, is she talking about someone who has ambitions or it’s the traditionnal “I will fight for the sake of this world” stuff? If they both want to fight for the world, to her, they’re equals.

Also, Seiros sees herself as a warrior. When she retakes this name in CF, it’s because she’s in her “warrior mode”, she’s not the leader of the church anymore.

“And I know the goddess will be watching over you as well.”

Seiros still believes her mom is watching over her :’( But her mom dgaf about anything save for her meatsuit. I was curious so I checked the og script (again, OG!Seiros was given an ellipse, but Localised!Seiros affirms stuff), OG!Seiros is much more reserved about Sothis watching over the summoner.

Status page quotes :

(again, it is jarring to compare just the tone of Inoue!Seiros and Leigh!Seiros, Inoue!Seiros talks much faster, even faster than Inoue!Rhea. Seiros is genki!Rhea confirmed)

Do not be afraid. You may speak openly with me. 

The first thing I thought of reading the “do not be afraid” is how the Bible’s angels often start with “do not be afraid” to the human they’re speaking to, but hey, they look freaky, not like Seiros who, right now, looks like a human with a failed hair dye.

What are you doing? Do you require my assistance? 

ZZZ

Do the teachings of the Church of Seiros hold interest for you? 

Seiros wonder if people are interested in her stuff. I don’t know from what time period this Seiros is, but if she’s from a post war of heroes, why is she asking if people are interested in her Church if it’s apparently the leading dogma in the continent?

If you humbly devote yourself to prayer, even you may receive the blessing of the goddess. 

Leigh!Seiros emphasises the “even you”. I know I’m just a lowly human dude, no need to hammer it! What kind of payer Willy the loser did to receive the blessing of the goddess, hm?

If something precious is stolen from you, you must do whatever it takes to recover it. 

Inoue!Seiros marks a definite change in tone here, she’s not playful or enthusiastic anymore, but pissed. Bar that, the “whatever it takes” part is... something Rhea doesn’t endorse anymore (except when Billy becomes Nemesis 2).

Mother... I wish I could see you again, just once more... 

In FE16 Rhea’s mom is just a gremlin chilling in Billy’s head, never giving a fuck about her even when she recovered her memories (bar the unseen scene where Rhea tells us she talked to her mom and immediately wonders if she should die). But maybe in the FeH verse Sothis can give some fucks about her children? Lol, who am I kidding.

I shall never abandon you. Even if it means staining my hands with blood… 

While this sounds like usual player worship, again it shows Seiros’s willing to do “whatever it takes” sometimes. She’s a bit of an extremist, but became wiser with time.

Tl; Dr :

1/ Seiros is Genki!Rhea

2/ Seiros used to think humans were useless, like her brothers (bar Cichol) until a certain point.

3/ As every young and impressionable person who survived the extermination of her village full of dragons to a man who used her mother’s spine as a sword and douches using other body parts of other silbings as weapons, Seiros is willing to do “whatever it takes” hinting at extremist tendencies, when Rhea, older and wiser, is apparently more willing to compromise, except when someone tries to destroy her home and take away her siblings using her mother’s spine as a weapon

4/ Inoue!Rhea/Seiros >>> Leigh!Rhea/Seiros

[miraculouscataclyyysm]

Au where Miss Bustier actually sets a seating plan for the first day of the school year so all the Chloe Adrian gum drama Doesn't happen (every class and school Iv ever been in has had a seat assignment set before the class starts by the teacher so I was so confused by all the seat drama) Lila starts at Dupont school from the very beginning and Felix lives with Adrian and Gabriel and starts at Dupont school and is in the same class as Adrian and Marinette

The seating assignment:

Marinette and Felix originally bond over there shared annoyance of Chloe & Lila they’ve both had to deal with Chloe and her bs for years (Mari at school and Felix with her and Adrian being childhood bffs she was at the Agreste mansion a lot when he first moved in)

Adrian pining over ladybug is still a thing but Marinette just sees Adrian as Felix's more smiley cousin who she occasionally talks to in class or when she’s at the mansion with Felix

Alya & Lila co-run the lady blog because Lila is “best friends with ladybug” so she knows “all the facts” *cue Marinette groaning into Felix's shoulder over the absolute stupidity*

Insted of outright calling Lila out on her lies she takes more of a back seat to perfect her eye roll felix on the other hand calls bullshit every time she speaks

Queen bee still happens but Marinette is quicker to put an end to Chloe’s bs and take the miraculous back because “how can I trust you to be a hero when half the akumas are caused by you?”

Marinette gives Felix the Fox miraculous, Nino still gets the turtles miraculous (because I love him) Alix gets the bunny (she replaces queen bee as an extra helping hand hero) Luka, max Kim and Kagami all get there miraculous as they do in the show

“did you know ladybug saved my life once? Hawkmoth practically had me at gunpoint and stupid chat noir was useless as always but ladybug swooped in and rescued me, she even asked me to join her team but obviously because of my hearing condition I had to refuse, for the good of Paris, that fashion disaster fox must have been her backup...tragic, he’s almost as bad as chat noir” *Adrien snaps his pen in rage while Felix points out several inconsistency with that story...Mari falls out of her chair with laughter

Felix and Marinette have a secret hand shake (this is purely self serving I just find the idea incredibly cute)

Jealous chat over ladybug and fox Felix (I like the idea of his hero name being ‘renard arctique’ which if google translate can be trusted is Arctic Fox) and referring to him as something seemingly playful but is dripping in bitterness like ‘frosty’

Marinette being best friends with Felix Alix max Kim and Luka because why the hell not! cue a hangout montage of Marinette Felix max and Luka on a picnic blanket, Luka is peacefully playing the guitar while Marinette lays on her back sketching designs, Felix is reading and subtlety sneaking glances at Mari and max is filming Kim and Alix as they race around the park

Felix and Adrian unknowingly fighting over Marinette/ladybug

Marichat being best bros

Bunnix and renard arctique kicking ass together ass the white rabbit and Arctic Fox duo

Hero’s day would play out similar except the hero’s would be ladybug, chat noir, carapace, renard arctique and bunnix

Lila and Chloe getting akumatised into a double-headed bright green monster after Marinette wins a design internship with Gabriel Agreste “ridiculous utterly ridiculous” “obviously this is blatant favouritism, if it wasn’t for Felix she’d never win this is so unfair, how can you let this happen Marinette I thought you were honest” “my father will hear about this Sabrina call my father this instant I’m gonna sue” *creepy hawkmoth smile “I love it when a plan comes together”

This idea has probably been done in some sort of way already but this is just for fun so I’m probably gonna continue, it’s just fun thinking of different scenarios that a few smallish changes can create...

Part 2