#both being put in traps and both winning (even though Adam still gets left behind)

[scattered-under-moonlight]

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in. 

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”. 

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger. 

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant. 

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel. 

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari. 

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being. 

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss. 

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most. 

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character. 

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling. 

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner​ about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life. 

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength: 

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown. 

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless. 

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by: 

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that. 

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

[hurricanes-art]

i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c  Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind Part III - Sirocco

DAY 3

As Aella sits in the campus refectory, her mind is still reeling from her fight with Harry the day before. She fins herself pushing peas around her plate as though the therapeutic movement could help her instill some order among her thoughts. Or just quiet them altogether. Someone like you. The cringeworthy words have been playing on an unfaltering loop since their author lashed them out to her face without a care. Someone like you. She desperately wants to tune it out, but it's like the record is trapped under the broken turntable needle and launched in endless revolution. Someone like y-

A pea is about to fall over her plate from the pushing, when she's greeted by a rowdy Dazzler and a quiet Tigger. The two form quite the complementary duo she notes, their polar dispositions counterbalancing each other in the most endearing way.

"Hiya, dear Aella. I believe it's story time for you!" Daz exclaims after jumping on the seat across from her, a large smile lighting up his face. Aella wonders for a second if it's not stapled to his skin instead; she's never seen Dazzler sport any other expression than pure elation. His singular request stops her musings in confusion, however.

"Story time?" She inquires with a perplexed frown.

"Love, you have no idea how badly my ears want to be graced with the very details of how you whipped Rex's sodding arse." His enthusiasm for such a mundane thing truly amazes her. And admittedly, she quite envies him and his talent for finding happiness in the smallest things.

"Ah yes, the highlight of my week," is all she acknowledges.

"Mine too, had I been there to witness it. That's why I need the next best thing: an exhaustive report of the whole scene." Dazzler explains, tailgating his answer with a suggestive double-nudge of his eyebrows.

"Well, it's nothing much really." She says looking down at her plate. But once she brings her eyes back to her two companions, she realizes they won't waver until she parts with the story. "Let's just say my uncle taught me a thing or two about pressure points, and that knowledge came in handy a couple nights ago." Aella refrains from giving out the full transcript of what really transpired despite Dazzler's request. She doesn't like bragging about such things. Even if Rex's mortified expression did bring her considerable satisfaction, she still hates the fact that she had to get physical with her peer for her to be respected. Besides, she has an inkling Dazzler's imagination is perfectly operational to fill in the blanks.

"Fuckin' hell, I'm gonna dream about this tonight!" True to his words, there's a childlike wondrous gleam in Dazzler's eyes, making his aversion for Rex almost tangible. And Aella can't help but rejoice in knowing she's not alone in her rancor against the jackass. "So you got him good?"

"Sent him to his knees." Her voice is still leveled, though her own delight at the memory is betrayed at the corner of her lips.

"Oh Aella, you are my new favorite person!" Dazzler's jubilation earns him a smile but the sentiment is quickly washed off her face and replaced by a heavy sigh.

"Yeah well, I wish your mate Harry shared the feeling." Aella says dejectedly, the peas once again holding more interest to her battered brain.

"Ah...so it's not all rainbows and unicorns between you two then?"

The question makes her scoff in exasperation."Try like...tornados and trolls. I mean, does the guy even know how to smile?" Aella doesn't want to get worked up about it, but the fact that she has likely 5 more weeks to spend as Harry's partner is quite a hard pill to swallow if he proves to be the prick she thinks he is.

"Hey now come on, he's been trough a lot recently. He's actually a pretty sound guy." The remark sobers Aella's anger for a moment as she remembers the very reason behind her presence at Top Gun. She knows how loss can shatter parts of the soul that makes us who we are, leaving only but time to glue back the pieces. To some extent she understands the void that Harry must be aching to fill, but her compassion for his pain is short lived. Grieve doesn't give anyone the right to act like a senseless prick. Aella can deal with his sullen attitude but in no way she'll ever put up with blatant disrespect for her mere identity.

"Well, sorry if I don't take your word for it, but all I've seen from him is the same cold and sexist shit I've dealt with since I enlisted." She says, moving on from absentmindedly poking the peas to forcefully stabbing them into a green mess.

"Hang on, Harry may have a stick up his arse from time to time, but sexist? That doesn't sound like him." Dazzler is quick to defend his friend. Of course, she interiorly sighs though she has to admit his disbelief over Harry's allegedly misogynistic behavior seems rather earnest.

"Well, you didn't hear him yesterday. Or seen the look in his eyes."

"Aella, I really thi-"

"Just forget it, okay. I'm use to it and I'll deal with it like I always have." While Dazzler seems to be adamant about his friend's righteousness, Aella doesn't want to here much of it. She just wants to move on, like she'd planned all along. The two men across from her exchange a quick look at her rebuttal and it hits them then, how different it is for Aella to be a navy pilot compared to their own journey. "Besides, I didn't come here to complain. I came to be a better pilot" she asserts in response to their sympathetic glance. It resembled pity too much for her to lay in it.

"Right." Is all Dazzler can muster as opposed to his partner who finally decides to speak up.

"I'm sorry you have to go through that Aella." In truth, she's never really cared for those apologies much since they most never come from the people who actually have apologizing to do. Nonetheless she can't deny how heartwarming it is to hear the sweetness and sincerity of both young men sharing their lunch with her. They can't do much about her situation but at least she now feels supported.

"Thank you Tigger." She replies in genuine gratitude, her smile shyly returning. "At least I have you both on my side."

"You've got Harry too, Aella. You don't know it yet, and he may not either, but he's on your side too." His gaze is heavy on her, the statement coming out in a solemn tone as if it was murmured by a prophesier.

"Don't hold your breath Daz."

DAY 6

"Ready?"

Although she knows they were bound to communicate at some point, Aella is startled when the sound of Harry's filtered voice echoes through her headset. After checking that her straps are tightly locked, she mutters a faint 'yeah' in response and wills her brain to stop overthinking the upcoming mission. It is to no avail though. The oxygen inflating her lungs is saturated with awkwardness and reticence, making her second-guess every choice she's made in the past few months. They can still make it, right? This tension didn't stop them from succeeding the last time after all... Alas, her mind won't let be duped by her feeble encouragements and for the first time in her life, Aella is dreading flying. She doesn't have the time to dwell on it however, as the roar of the F-14's afterburners fills the cockpit and before she knows it, the sky is welcoming them back.

"Alright, let's kick the tires and light the fires." Harry murmurs as the runway keeps dwindling away from their vision, and Aella remembers him whispering the same line before their first venture. She makes no comment though, many pilots come up with little habits and small routines of their own to help them reach the headspace suited for flying. Some disregard it as superstitious gibberish, but in Aella's opinion it can save precious seconds in dire moments. And in the Navy worlds, every second counts.

As Commander Berks laid it out moments ago, this assignment slightly differs from the last one. The level of difficulty is tuned up a bit by the accrued competition: this time all 8 units are flying simultaneously as they battle for a single target towed by Berks himself. The task in meant to improve both aim and awareness as they are still being chased by the other instructors throughout the task. All in all though, it is the same 'target without getting targeted' acrobatics they are all familiar with.

"I've got my eyes on the target, can you read the positions please?" Harry suddenly inquires. The mission has run smoothly so far with few interactions between the two. It seems that's about to change however, as they get in the thick of it.

"Target at reach in 3 miles abeam, 5° on your left, lower, flying South." Aella starts reading her radar at her copilot's request. "Bogey one mile ahead at your ten. I think it's Rex, tailing target at 900 knots closure."

"Shit." Harry curses. Though Aella remains quiet, none of them are thrilled to realize Rex and his radar intercept officer Kurt (or the Zodiac as per his callsign) are ahead of the game.

"You've also got contact 2 miles behind, flying your speed." Aella adds in a poised manner. "Hold on, there's two of them."

"Are they closing in on us?"

"No. Looks like someone's got Rogers on their ass."

Harry briefly smiles. "Good." Whoever might that be, it means one less competitor trying for the target and one less instructor on their case for the time being. That's a win-win in his book.

"Careful though. He might turn on us next." She warns in anticipation.

"Not if I win this mission first." Harry retorts in confidence. His partner wishes she had the same optimism but there is an odd feeling festering in the pit of her stomach.

For a hot minute, there is but the consistent whirring of the engine disturbing the otherwise eery silence permeating the air. Harry seems to be slowly yet surely catching up on Rex and more importantly Berks, when the latter suddenly swerves upwards in unexpected fashion.

"Berks' barrel-rolling." Aella immediately calls the change in movement, the peaceful flow they were reveling in, already coming to an end. "New angle, 2 o'clock high." Harry slightly reduces his speed as Berks executes a vertical U-turn, effectively putting him out of Rex's range and at a higher altitude.

"I see that. I need to get ahead of Rex, can you call the speeds please?" He's trying to determine his best course of action in order to recover his advance on Berks before his opponent does.

"Target going 700 knots, Rex 630 and we're flying 650." Aella answers quickly although she has a plan forming in her brain as always. She's not as forceful as she was during their first operation, already apprehensive of her partner's reaction. "Listen Harry, if you do a J-turn you'll overshoot past Rex right on Berks' tail."

Admittedly her plan is once again on the daring side of the spectrum, so part of her knows Harry won't gleefully jump on board at the mere suggestion. And sure enough he proves her right as soon as the last word is out of her lips.

"Do a Herbst maneuver?! Are you batshit crazy?! That's not even in the program."

She refrains from rolling eyes since they ought to be scanning the data on her flight system at all times. "Fuck the program, you don't end up at Top Gun playing by the book. We can win this mission now, just trust me." She almost cringes at the last words, knowing they were uttered more for the form than their meaning. God knows they are lightyears from trusting each other.

"Jesus, this isn't free-style flying Aella for fuck's sake, this is air-combat." Harry doesn't care that he's letting all his frustration out. Knows he shouldn't be having 'land-talk' whilst they're up in the air on a mission (there will be plenty of time to tell her off once they've landed) but his mind is completely overladen.

"That's right, and you're fighting like a 6 year-old girl. Stop pulling hair and grow up!" Whoever said 'don't fight fire with fire' was obviously never launched at supersonic speed in 25 tons of steel with a person they despise a great deal. Reason seems to have been forgotten on the tarmac by both acolytes as they keep arguing ten-thousand feet above grounds.

"You're delusional, have you even ever done one?!"

"I'll guide you through it, trust m-"

"No! No fucking way, it's too dangerous." His tone is adamant, once again leaving Aella no room for discussion. She hates that he has the final word when it comes to flying, but alas he's the one in control of the aircraft.

"Urgh!" She cries out in irritation before mumbling under her breath "fucking coward."

Harry tries to ignore the silent dig taken at his expense as he focuses back on the problem at hand. His jaw is clenching so hard underneath the helmet, he can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. He is in the middle of regulating his breathing when Aella speaks up again bringing his heartbeat back into tizzy.

"Great, now we got Rogers on our case. Congrats."

"Fuck." He doesn't even register her passive-aggressive jab, more so preoccupied with the new threat charging after them.

She'd been right. She knew Rogers would be coming for them next if they didn't change tactics. Now all she can do is calling positions and silently cursing the stars for putting her on Harry's path. "800 knots closure, he's coming at your six."

"I'm well aware Aella, thanks." His voice overpowering the loud beeping noise echoing through the cockpit. They're about to be figuratively shot but not so figuratively eliminated from the competition, as Rogers is one second away from locking in on them and firing.

"He's not budging, you need to bug the fuck out." She discloses her input even though she feels like no matter what she suggests, he's gonna opt the other way.

"Like hell! The target's not bugging out." Harry quips back, once again confirming her assumption.

"You won't get the goddamn target if you're down." In a different world - and let's face it, in a different life - she might applaud his resilience, but in this universe she loathes his stubbornness, especially since she's the one enduring its wrath.

"Fucking hell, just call the bloody positions. I can't let Rex win this mission." Or any other for that matter, is what he thinks. A sentiment that, any other day, Aella would reciprocate but she's given up for the day. If he doesn't want her opinion, fine. Let him get shot, that'll teach him.

"I told you, he's in the fucking saddle, at your six. Closing on 800 knots. 850. 900."

She knows it before she hear it then: another ear-splitting beeping erupts within the cabin, dramatically informing Harry of their defeat. Rogers took the shot, it was over.

"Dammit!"

As soon as Aella steps back on solid grounds, she's overcome with a lingering sense of déjà-vu. The horizon incessantly spiraling in her vision surely doesn't help quell the dreadful sensation, though she doesn't dwell much on her lack of visual focus. No, her mind is completely consumed by the urge to rip Harry a new one. And she doesn't usually indulge in those urges. Seldom lets her resentment out in the open, for fear of appearing too "emotional" for some people's taste; and because quite frankly, she has better things to do. But this is killing her from the inside. Cutting right into the flesh of her dreams and strangling the part of herself that only bows to freedom. This is the other half of her unit dismissing her talent on the basis of her gender. And that she can't take in, much less bottle up and store away in a sealed chest at the bottom of her mind.

"For fuck sake Harry, you're supposed to be my partner!" Aella cries out to him.

He doesn't want to make a scene any more than she does, but likewise has tremendous difficulty keeping his rage all in. As Aella chases after him, he keeps stomping away from their shared TomCat. He doesn't think he's capable of facing her without loosing his shit. "That's a two way street Aella, and I don't reckon flying us both to the grave is part of 'the partner's' job description." The air quotes he uses at the mention of the word partner does nothing to assuage Aella's already blazing fury. She thinks he couldn't be more obnoxious in that moment if he tried.

"That's because you don't listen to me!"

"Damn right I don't!" He shouts back while spinning around to finally face her. "And you can thank me for still being alive because of it." Aella feels like she might implode like a pressure cooker forgotten on the fire. The audacity...the insolence... Each word he breathes out is wracking one by one every single nerve ending of hers. He's so full of himself, she wonders how she could fit in the cockpit without his human-size ego crushing her. She might have joked about having to find a 3-seats Tomcat for their next mission to fit them all, if the situation weren't so seriously heart-rending for her.

"You. Are. Such an asshole! Why am I even here? Huh! Why am I even sitting in that fucking aircraft with you?" She's about a wit away from yielding to the pressure boiling in her chest; still Harry is relentless in his comebacks too.

"Funny, I was wondering the same thing." He knows he's being harsh but his mind won't give in. Won't let him cut out a fragment of trust to share with her rule-breaking mentality. Not after what happened with Fox.

"You're despicable. I can't believe I actually hoped you'd be a decent guy. But god no! Mr Styles is too precious to be paired with a woman, so why should he give her the time of day? And why did he have to be partnered with a lady in the first place, yeah? All they can do is sit pretty or unleash their crazy, imma right?" She realizes how close she's gotten to him during her diatribe and has half the mind to push at his chest but somehow she doubts it would make him budge much. Once again she finds herself inches away from his stiff stature, as she fervently tells him off. "Dammit, you're just like the others, it makes me sick."

That's the final stroke for Harry. She can deem him as stuck-up as she pleases but he won't have her repeatedly question his integrity. "I don't fucking care that you're a woman, alright! Christ, you care about it more than I do!" Admittedly, he's had a couple sneak-peaks at her mistreatment and while he sure does feel for her struggle, sometimes she's too in her head about it to see good from bad. And he's tired of being at the wrong end of it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She questions half-offended and half confused, as she can't fathom any sense to the statement.

"It means, I know some guys don't treat you right because you're a woman; but I never did, and I'm sick of you accusing me of it anyway." His eyes are sharp when they connect with hers, compelling and brutally honest, yet they send a chill down to her toes. "But you know what? The world is unfair. Tough love, darling. You have to prove yourself more than us but think for a minute who's against you and who's on your side, because it seems to me that you waste a lot of energy fighting the wrong persons." He's the one who delivered the words, yet Aella is the one out of breath. For a hard second, all she does is frown as a dizzying silence takes over the heated exchange. Their staring hasn't relented, in fact Harry's eyes are agitatedly seeking question-less answers in hers in a mirrored frown.

When Aella finally speaks up, her voice is hardly louder than a whisper and that's how she knows she has Harry's full attention. "You don't know the first thing about being a woman." She notices him gulping as if preparing for the sobering speech he knows is coming, so she indulges. "You don't know what it is to live in a men's world and not be man. You don't know how it feels to be stationed at the same base for months and still be treated like a stranger. You don't know how it feels to work twice as hard if not more, to get one iota of the same recognition men do. You don't know what it is to be picked last by your superior for any given promotion even though you know you've got the best stats of the whole squadron." Though she's kept a reasonable volume, she pauses to regain her countenance over the ever-growing pain in her voice. "And you sure as hell don't know what it is to be your only ally."

Her harpooned gaze never unhooked from its two emerald preys, and for once Aella feels like he's listening. So on she goes. "Today, up there, I had more balls than you did. Tough love, you said? Well same goes for you, Harry. Because no matter what, you're stuck with me. I'm your copilot and you may hate it but you can't do anything about it. So, please do yourself a favor and grow a pair when you need to, because I sure can't "prove myself" if I'm flying with a coward."

Aella is quite satisfied with her tirade, almost certain she's had the last word once again but one look at Harry's face is enough to make her doubt that. Though he's been towering over her smaller frame for a bit, he looks downright threatening now with flaring nostrils and figurative smoke steaming out of his ears.

"You don't know what you're talking about either. You fly as recklessly as your arrogance will let you. That's dangerous, thoughtless and most of all, selfish." She's starting to recoil, having taken one step backward, but Harry barely registers her uneasiness. She's the one gulping the wounding words now. "I should be ashamed of flying with you and your crazy decisions." Ouch "Oh and one more thing. Don't you dare call me a coward ever again, understood?"

She doesn't give him the satisfaction of a nod but his spiteful prose successfully rendered her speechless. And Aella is not one to relinquish her self-assurance or fold under any man's intimidating number. But somehow this feels different. Harry is not a halfwit who can't handle women's ascent into the Navy world. No, Harry just plainly hates her guts, regardless of her sex. And that hurts more than she'd ever expect to. So much so, she can't bear to look at his chiseled features anymore and recoils a step further away from his hurtful disposition.

It's only then, Harry finally picks up on her shrinking form and bruised spirit. He didn't want to go this far. Didn't intend on carving her confidence right out of her chest, but now that he sees the anguish embedded in her delicate traits, he fears he might get sick on the spot. He's had the most strenuous past few months, staggering from loss and numbness to longing and grief, but this had to top all pains: he didn't know who he was anymore. When had he turned into such a inconsiderate prick? Self-loathing took over his sense, the feeling unwelcome yet familiar, and all Harry could do was turn around and run away from the crime scene.

And run away from Aella.

[thecorteztwins]

@esteicy-blog “I'm convinced that they didn't even check the wiki page of her comic version when writing her in the mcu because movie Mantis has absolutely nothing to do with what you describe.“ I haven’t see the MCU movie, but I have read a bit about that version of Mantis and they sound NOTHING alike to me either! Comics Mantis is: - Not an alien. She’s a completely human woman with a Vietnamese mother and a German father. She was raised by Kree priests in a temple, but that temple was in Vietnam, not space, and then when she was an adult they wiped her memories so she remembered only growing up in Saigon. She never goes to space until her destiny as the Celestial Madonna is revealed. She MARRIES one of the Cotati aliens, but she isn’t one herself. Which means I think GotG has more POC who are playing aliens than actual POC characters? - Her powers are very different. As I understand it, movie!Mantis is a generic empath. Comics book Mantis had what she described as “empathy with nature” often calling it simply “empathy” for short, but what it actually was was just like...this very vague and generic psychic sensitivity. She wasn’t exactly a real telepath, nor a true empath, nor a precog, but she could feel “vibrations” that gave her clues if something was wrong, get a general sense of a person in a vague sort of way, and just generally gave her really good intuition. For instance, this one time a cop with a split personality had his other personality take over, and Mantis sensed SOMETHING was wrong because his “vibrations” changed, she just couldn’t say WHAT was going on. But more than her psychic sensitivity, was her martial arts prowess. Mantis has such martial skill that she’s able to grapple with Thor and WIN---quickly win, at that! At one point ALL THE AVENGERS try to physically restrain her, and she TOSSES THEM THE FUCK OFF (again, including Thor) She also once kicks Pietro in the face WHEN HE’S RUNNING! Again, this woman is HUMAN, she just has really extreme training by alien priests. - Her personality. Again, I haven’t seen the movie, but she seems kind of...cute and fragile and ditzy and naive from what I understand? Comics Mantis is intelligent, fearless, and very much NOT naive. She’s extremely assertive and serious, she’s not shy or giggly at all. She’s also framed as very intelligent and logical, though that’s more something the writing tries to convince us of than what’s actually on the page. She’s not stupid AT ALL, just we’re told she’s a brilliantly logical deductive mind on par with the Vision, when actually she just mostly makes guesses based on her intuition powers but calls it deduction. She’s definitely clever though, both in a fight and in terms of getting what she wants from people and situations, and how to best utilize her powers. She’s also never unsure in her abilities either; she’s so confident in them that in fact she defends them to others when they think her psychic intuition is wrong, or that she didn’t measure her strike correctly, and BOTH times she’s proven correct. But she’s also not arrogant about her skills either, and in fact demures from compliments. Mantis doesn’t tolerate anyone underestimating her abilities, including allies, and she trusts in herself completely...but she also doesn’t need praise from others either, and doesn’t seem to want it. And the story supports her, there is never a moment where she’s proven wrong in this. Mantis is NOT a character who EVER struggles with control of her powers. Mantis can be great. For instance, when she’s reuniting with the Avengers after having been away in space with the whole Celestial Madonna thing, they’re all super happy to see her. Silverclaw, a new Avenger (who is also indigenous Latina) stands off the side and is left out, because she doesn’t have any connection to Mantis. Mantis notices this, and she immediately reaches out to Silverclaw, putting her arm around her, saying that “Yes, they gather around this one. But this one would rather gather around you.” and explains that she was the new girl once and the Avengers supported her, and she wants to support Silverclaw too. It’s very sweet! Mantis absolutely can be a big jerk. The way she meets The Avengers is that some guys are being creeps to Wanda on the street, and Mantis jumps out to kick their asses and defend Wanda. This is great. But it’s not coincidence. Mantis wasn’t just passing by. She and her boyfriend the Swordsman (a former Avenger) want to join, and had come to the US for the express purpose of joining. So she was probably following Wanda and just jumped out at the moment she knew would make her look best to Wanda, so that Wanda would vouch for her as an Avenger. Mantis shows this capacity to be manipulative other times as well, and in fact in the end she seems to have been just using the Swordsman as a way to get America and be an Avenger, even though she claims to the Avenger that she doesn’t care about being one and just wants to be next to “her man”. She acts like the typical “submissive Asian girl who loves her big strong white boyfriend” at first but the minute she decides that she’d rather have the Vision, who is actively involved with Wanda, she starts pursuing him. She’s a huge jerk to Swordsman and Wanda in the process, insulting the both of them as being weak and not good enough for her or Vision, at first behind their backs, and then to their faces, she and Wanda get pretty catty. Mantis is very adamant that she wants a strong, heroic, INTELLIGENT man, and the Swordsman falls short for her. Which is her choice, but the way she handles it is very shitty to him (not to mention going behind his and Wanda’s backs trying to seduce Vision). He tries more than once to have a discussion with her about it, and she evades him, avoiding giving him any kind of straight answer when he asks her very straightforward questions. It’s not towards the end that she finally coldly dismisses him and tells him he’s not enough for her and that she doesn’t care for him any longer. Even when he’s dying after saving her and she’s begging him to live and apologizing, she’s still frankly kind of a selfish dick about it? She says she used him and that it was wrong and that she sees that now, but she says he needs to live so she can make things up to him. So he needs to live so SHE can feel better, basically, and she’s only feeling remorse in the first place because he sacrificed himself for her. Even after death, he can’t catch a break---she says she prefers the version of him that is actually the Elder Cotati possessing his dead body (I’m still not over that) because its smarter than the original Swordsman was. Ouch. But Mantis isn’t all bad for this! She’s not actually demonized for it at all, to be honest, nor is she punished by the narrative. Her story with the Swordsman is honestly more just a way to get her to the Avengers, then she quickly overtakes him in terms of importance as a character. It’s easy to forget he’s there most of the time compared to her, and he’s got rid of the moment he’s no longer really needed, and the next chapter of her story can begin as she’s revealed to be The Celestial Madonna. It’s the reverse of the typical male and female roles in a story, ESPECIALLY for a white man and an Asian woman. He’s HER prop, he’s the one devoted to her, he’s the one who is cast aside and dies for her as a part of HER story. Mantis also evolves. When she comes back from her journey as the Madonna, she’s straight with the Avengers about why she’s come to them, and she asks directly for their help, there’s no manipulative games. Wanda and her still have a bit of an issue on Wanda’s end, Wanda understandably still doesn’t like seeing her be close with Vision, but BOTH of them work at having a better relationship---Wanda in fact goes out of her way to tell Mantis that she and Vision are separated now, so it’s fine if he hooks up with Mantis (which he does) And Mantis hasn’t said an unkind word about Wanda in a very long time. Being a mother brings a whole new dimension to her. Ben Grimm cracks about how any “red-blooded American kid” would have a hard time calling her “Mom” due to her sex appeal, and Mantis rightly points out that people don’t often think of her as a mother---which is a small but VERY true commentary on how people can’t seem to conceive of motherhood and sexiness in the same woman outside the MILF stereotype---but she is, and she is a very devoted one, and she’s a great mom while also having sex with the Vision even while she also has a “mate” in the Elder Cotati, and she’s not portrayed as wrong for this in any way; she and the Elder Cotati seem poly I guess. And being a mother, being the Celestial Madonna, gave her a bunch of additional new powers, she’s stated to be a GODDESS now, and she ends up being able to TAKE ON THANOS and she WARNS him---”This one is life, Thanos, but hurt her son and she will kill you. That is a promise.” So, she’s a very well-rounded character, she’s very assertive and confident woman with every right to be, while not being arrogant. She’s got some really nasty flaws, she can be cruel and catty when it comes to romance, manipulative when it comes to achieving her goals when there’s not even any need to be, but she also matures and develops. She’s a great mom who also has an active sex life and nothing is shown as wrong about it. She starts out with admittedly very racist trappings---the mysterious seductive martial artists Dragon Lady from the Far East who seems devoted to her white boyfriend--but grows beyond it in spades. I can see why a modern movie might want to shed SOME of that baggage...but making her into a cutesty-poo side character with nearly all her incredible canon powers gone, while ALSO erasing her ethnicity and cultural identity, doesn’t seem at all a step in the right direction to me.

[cheerynoir]

Love Makes Liars of Us All - chapter 10

The candlelight got caught up in Theon’s dark hair like starlight, and Robb’s couldn’t help but notice as he tried to write to his mother’s lady sister. His fingers itched with the urge to steal the combs and ties that bound her hair, to run his fingers through the loosened strands. There was a longing in the pit of his stomach to be the one holding onto a part of her that no one else could touch, not even the stable-boys or bards with too high aspirations. No matter how rumpled Theon looked after a romp, her hair would always remain braided and coiffed, utterly unruffled, despite her partners’ disheveled hair and clothes.

He got to touch that part of her. She didn’t allow anyone else to touch her hair or to see it out of her restricting Southern hairstyles. That was something purely between them.

Robb tried not to think about that most of the time. It only made him distracted and restless.

As if reading his mind, Grey Wind curled around Theon’s legs and rubbed around them, demanding attention. Theon scratched behind his ears even as her mouth twisted at the hair left on her leather breeches.

Robb stifled a laugh, rolling the quill between his fingers. Theon was always so vain about her clothes – if it were fine velvet or the clothes she’d stolen from Jon to train in, it never seemed to matter.

Theon noticed his attention and quirked an eyebrow in askance. She pushed her braid back behind her shoulder, the long dark rope of it falling down her back. Robb felt a whine building in his throat, but thankfully the noise was drowned out by Grey Wind’s when the action took her hand away from the petting.

He was embarrassingly grateful to have the distraction. There was enough going on without adding Theon’s ribbing to his plate.

“I know that your lady mother is also writing her own letter,” Theon smirked over her wineskin. It was not Dornish or even the Arbor Gold she’d accept in a pinch, but such luxuries were rare even for Queens during wartime. “But if your lord grandfather’s plan is to work, then you too should he lending your voice to the cause. Lady Arryn, besieged with letters full of family and honor and obligation – just think on it.”

She paused for a thoughtful sip of wine, and tossed him the skin. “Though it might be more helpful to bring up that her Lord husband probably died at the Lannisters’ hands. If revenge is a dish served cold, then it ought to be enough so share, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t say the words without a hint of mockery behind them. Robb was long used to it – so much so that he didn’t even bristle at her drawl. The only time he could recall Theon ever minding her tongue when it came to honor or family, it was in front of … of his father. With him gone – well. Robb brushed aside the thought, and tried to take comfort in a constant instead. Despite the war, despite the death, despite the blood on both their hands, Theon’s curled lip and easy sneer was something familiar and easy.

His lady mother might have despaired at Theon’s lack of taming – her vicious tongue, her wild ways, the hunger that lurked just beneath the surface – despite all her time with them, but Robb found the difference – refreshing. The Tully’s words might be Family, Duty, Honor, but Theon was a Greyjoy of Pyke, a creature of salt water and cutting japes.

Some things you could not tame, and were the richer for it.

“I’m almost done, Theon,” Robb said, after a too-long beat. “I just needed a moment, is all. After writing that letter to your Lord Father, I’m afraid I’ve tired myself out.”

“And you think you are alone in that, do you?” Theon snorted. Her hand brushed down to Grey Wind’s nape, where her caresses turned much firmer than the delicate scratching. Grey Wind nuzzled her calf in thanks, tongue lolling in pleasure.

Robb shivered and looked away. "No," he said. He raked his hands through his hair for the thousandth time that morning, noting with some displeasure how wild his curls had become. "But I'm the one who has to write another."

“Then take a walk out of this tent,” Theon grinned. “Fresh air will do you good. Wake you up some, let you talk to the men. It’s better than just staring into space.”

Into space. Of course. And if the space happened to be where she was…

Robb shook his head to clear it. Theon was right. He needed some air.

“And you? What will Her Grace be doing while I’m out and about?” Robb asked. He mustered a grin.

“Why tending to my most loyal subject, of course,” Theon said, dry. She petted the back of Grey Wind’s ears again for good measure.

Robb chuckled and left his tent to meet the biting chill of the outside world, already feeling energized by the wind cutting at his face and bringing a flush to his cheeks. They were further south than he’d ever been before, but winter was coming.

Perhaps we’re bringing it with us.

Olyvar, who had been waiting for him to emerge nearby, immediately fell into step behind him like a good squire. Robb at times wondered who was his more persistent shadow, Grey Wind or Olyvar?

Truthfully, that was the most normal bit of his walk, with the awed looks he was getting from some of his bannermen who were around his own age, or near enough it made no difference.

Such open displays made a lump of lead grow in Robb’s gut, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve their awe. Was it the fact that he became King so young simply through the confidence the much older Lords had in him? Was it because of the subsequent victories in the Battle of the Whispering Woods and the Battle of the Camps?

It was a good feeling, knowing that he was valued and admired for things he did by those who weren’t family or Theon. It made standing tall easier, made walking among them feel more natural. He felt more like the King they’d made of him, rather than an up-jumped Lordling.

That is, it did, until the blood in veins chilled when he heard Lord Jason Mallister up ahead, his voice carried by the brisk wind. He was with many of the other Lords, all parts of the old guard that fought in the Greyjoy Rebellion.

The disquiet in Robb thickened. His pace quickened, just a touch.

“Disgraceful, is what it is,” Lord Mallister spat. “Bad enough that Ironborn whore seduced our King into marrying her, but now she’s distracting him all day with her lewd wiles when he should be concentrating on the war.”

“All morning and still going strong all day,” the Greatjon said, with an easy laugh. “Impressive for a lad of five-and-ten.”

Lord Mallister glared at the Greatjon, “Impressive on his part, aye, but the whore shouldn’t be distracting him like this. She should’ve whelped him heirs long ago instead of trying now and putting a future heir of Winterfell in mortal danger. But then I suppose the Ironborn have their own bed-warmers who happen to wield swords as well.”

Robb’s mouth went dry and his fingers twitched at his sides. He faltered then, on the outskirts of the gaggle, unnoticed for the time being. He was close enough to see the way Lady Maege Mormont glared at Lord Mallister, though.

“Would you care to repeat that in the field, Lord Mallister?” she asked though her teeth.

As though just realizing who was sitting at his fire pit, Jason Mallister sputtered, “It’s not that, Lady Mormont. Of course the Mormont women are as fierce as any man and their contributions are always appreciated. But you of all people should know how untrustworthy she it. Her people have raided your coastlines since they crawled out of the sea, they’ve stolen your women and killed your people. This is an Ironborn hostage we speak of. How could such a woman be trusted out on the field, much less with a babe in her belly? And who knows what strange ideas she’s whispering to His Grace—”

Robb was dimly aware of a pain in his hands where his fists were clenched. There was dull roaring in his ears. There was a bonfire in his chest and he couldn’t get a deep breath without fanning the flames. For a moment, there was nothing in him but that fire and the urge to lash out – but good sense pressed in on him. The facts lined up and marched through his head in a half-second:

These were respected lords with considerable personal armies in their own rights. By the looks of it, the men gathered agreed with Lord Mallister: his choice in bride was not a welcomed one. They followed him, but this southern push was fragile – he could not win a war on his own. They thought Theon was with child, and stubborn enough to stay with him despite it. They had a point.

But Mallister was disrespecting Theon.

There was a snarl trapped in his chest and a slight that demanded blood. Robb wanted, just for an instant, to strike the man who dared—

“Lord Mallister,” Robb heard himself call, cool and easy. He couldn’t do any of that, he knew. He was a King, not a green boy with a silly infatuation with a girl. Theon was not his wife, not in truth, and she could fight her own battles. But this would not stand. “Your Queen will be departing for the Iron Islands soon and so she will require an escort.”

And hadn’t that been a chore? Theon was adamant on going alone, insisting that the presence of Northmen in her father’s domain would just muddy the waters and make everything unnecessarily tense. Robb had argued that, as a Queen, she should have at least a small contingent with her, otherwise how would that look? As though he didn’t care for his own wife’s safety, that’s how, and that sort of insult would be worse in the long run.

They had argued long and hard, thankfully muffled inside the tent and kept at hisses and never reaching to yelling levels, and in the end Robb won – to a point. Concessions had been made: a small host, rather than a garrison, would accompany Theon to the isles.

Robb pressed on without giving Mallister a chance to protest or for the other men to speak up. The words grew teeth and bit where Robb could not, hard with the chill of command. “She needs to secure ships from her father, and she goes on my behalf. Patrek would be perfect to head this mission due to his strength and his impeccable diplomacy.”

The man was friendly with Theon and had never uttered the word “squid” around her, as far as Robb knew. He would certainly trust Theon’s wellbeing with him sooner than with his father. Besides, perhaps some distance between father and son was needed.

Robb inclined his head at his bannerman, and offered a smile that barely quirked his lips. “Tell Patrek to prepare for a long journey, if you would, Lord Mallister.” "Yes, Your Grace. If it please you."

He turned on his heel and walked away, then. He had a letter to finish.

--

Hoster Tully regarded the neat letters Robb, his Lady Mother, his Lord Uncle, and the Blackfish had written to Lady Arryn. All of them were a variation of a call to aid, a reminder that Lannisters killed her husband, and sentimental pleads that family was of the utmost importance. The same words all penned in different hands. Perhaps it would be enough.

Robb scanned the pile for his grandfather’s contribution, but as cluttered as the desk was with maps and papers, no fifth letter revealed itself. Disquiet ran cool fingers across the back of his neck.

“So you are sending young Patrek Mallister to escort your wife,” his grandfather paused at “wife” as though he didn’t know what to do with such a title. Robb willed himself not to bristle, with minimal success. If his grandfather noticed, he didn’t let on. “Any others?”

“Perhaps Wendel Manderly and some of his men—”

“That might not be wise,” his lady mother interrupted him, her lips in that disapproving frown she’d sport whenever someone mentioned Theon. “Regardless of Balon Greyjoy’s… current cooperation with the other kingdoms, there is still a risk in only bringing the younger lords without the benefit of the old guard who fought in the rebellion.”

Robb stilled. Send the older bannermen? The same ones that spent their free time reliving their glory days and comparing the number of Ironborn they’d killed? Robb kept his face blank and just cast his mother a look, sharp and searching.

“Won’t that simply make things worse, Mother?”

“How could it? Things are already tense. At least this way, she will have protection and no one can say we do not protect our own.”

“I take it you have suggestions for who to send, then?” asked the Blackfish gruffly.

“Lady Mormont,” said Catelyn at once. “Robb, Maege commands her men, but she has daughters that could direct their numbers in her absence, Lyra perhaps. To send Dacey on this mission and take her from your van would be a waste. Lady Maege knows the Ironborn, she knows what to expect if things go poorly, but she has weathered enough negotiations to know when words are needed rather than a sword.”

Experience, Robb knew, Patrek Mallister did not have.

By the Old Gods and the New. Robb raked his fingers through his hair and bit back a sigh. He’d fought with Theon before, but this would be a trial. Mallister he would be able to get her to accept – she liked Patrek, as far as he could tell. But having her accept the old guard – those that had quashed her father’s rebellion?

It’d be easier to teach Grey Wind swordplay.

Theon might not say anything about the selection, but she would be tense around them. Distracted. Waiting for a pointed remark or a muttered slur, rather than preparing for the meeting with her Lord Father. That would hardly do any of them any good.

“Yes, now that that’s been dealt with,” his grandfather said. “What is to be done about Tywin Lannister and Harrenhal?”

“We’ve lost the element of surprise now,” Robb said, frowning. “Although we have the Kingslayer as a hostage, there’s no guarantee that we can get the upper hand back through negotiations.”

“We might want to hold on to him and wait to negotiate for your sisters’ release,” said the Blackfish.

Robb studied the table for a long moment, his stomach twisting. This was bigger than his sisters – a Kingship told him as much, as much as it made the bile rise in his throat at the thought.

“That being said, Lord Tywin is not the Kingslayer. He will not rush in heedless. He will wait patiently for Ser Stafford to march before he stirs from behind the walls of Harrenhal,” his lord grandfather said.

“Unless…” his mother said.

“Yes?” the Blackfish prompted.

“Unless he must leave Harrenhal,” she said, “to face some other threat.”

The Blackfish looked at her thoughtfully. The corners of his mouth quirked in a faint, sharp smile. “Lord Renly,” he said.

“King Renly,” Catelyn corrected, wry.

Robb swallowed a laugh that bubbled up his throat, caught the sound behind his teeth and clenched his jaw to keep quiet. For a long moment, he stared intently down at the table and the scattering of letters. It was funny, the way the Gods moved sometimes.

And here he was wondering how he could bring up an alliance with Renly without explaining that Theon had given him the idea.

--

Theon stared him down, knuckles turning white from gripping her own crossed arms. Her mouth was a thin, bloodless line and her expression was perfectly smooth.

It wasn’t often that Theon reminded him of Sansa, but in that moment, all Robb see when he looked at her was his sister, prim and proper and self-contained. Robb looked away and pressed a clenched fist to his chest, like that would smother the ache he felt.

He swallowed and forced himself to look back.

“Theon,” Robb sighed. He raked his fingers through his hair, “I know that you would feel more comfortable not having anyone who was involved in the Rebellion—”

“Comfort?” Theon scoffed, “Robb, my comfort is the least of our problems. Do you know what happened the last time a Northern Lord stepped foot on Pyke? They burned it to the ground, and the Iron Fleet with it.”

Robb opened his mouth and then shut it. He had no answer to that. In truth, he hadn’t even thought in those terms. Why had his lady mother suggested it when that was the first thing to come to mind?

“Fuck,” Theon slumped into the bedding furs, foregoing the chair. She put her hands over her face. “And your lady mother won’t budge from this?”

“No. And neither will I,” Robb shook his head. He looked at her for a long moment, fidgeting, before he forced himself to sit beside her. It wasn’t improper, he told himself. They were married – or they may as well have been, in the eyes of the camp. And his intentions were good; he only meant to comfort her. “And she is right that sending such a small escort without sending in my most experienced bannermen could also be construed as an insult.”

“Except that your best and most experienced all had a hand in quelling my father’s rebellion,” Theon said, muffled. “Fuck.”

Robb looked down at his hands, clenched tightly again his knees. Theon swore like men drank – often, and with vigor. He’d heard her curse for so long it was a wonder her vocabulary hadn’t worn off on him. She said before that her father’s halls had been filled with sailors and captains, all with mouths worse than hers.

He doubted a weather-beaten raider could make a curse sound half as good.

Slowly, Robb leaned into her side, seeking comfort. His face burned with the shame of it – in wanting to be held, in wanting a moment of respite, in realizing his own incompetence. Was he not a King? Should he not be the one who had the answers and the best strategies? So far, it was his lady mother, his lord grandfather, and Theon who made all the diplomatic decisions.

Perhaps he was only good for tactics. For battles and war, the spill of blood and the sound of steel singing as it struck its brother.

The thought made him sick.

Robb shut his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to empty his mind of it all.

The tent was quiet, the sounds of camp muffled. The fire crackled, and far-off there was a shout.

“Asha and I,” Theon said after the quiet had settled like a shroud. “We’re the last.”

She leaned into him as well, a cool hand against his nape. They lay close enough to share air – close enough for Robb to know that while Theon smelled as sweaty and road-worn as everyone else, she hid it under marjoram oil. It was an earthy, green smell that soothed him, despite its newness; Theon usually favoured sweeter, more flowery scents – crocus or hyacinth. It was a vain and wasteful habit, some would say, but one that suited Theon perfectly, even now. Stubbornly maintaining her habits until the bitter end. Robb bit back a smile and turned his face into her stomach minutely.

“Rodrik and Maron were supposed to,” Theon paused, drifting between words like a raft caught in the current. She never talked about her departed brothers. If it weren’t for the records of the Rebellion, Robb never would have known she had brothers; that was how little she talked of them or her sister. “They were supposed to compete over who would be worthy of the Seastone Chair. The one who didn’t gain it would become the Lord of Harlaw.”

Robb shifted, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her. Theon had a glassy look to her, her eyes unfocused and her lips parted and damp, as though she wasn’t seeing what was before her but far, far off. Robb grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, to anchor her and keep her where she was. He felt as though he’d swallowed a stone and couldn’t say why.

Something moved at the corner of his eye and Robb jerked, hand going to a dagger and finding air. He was grateful for it. Grey Wind curled up around his preferred spot at Theon’s feet. His paw almost territorially planted near her calf, his head laid on her shins. Robb sighed.

“They’re not here anymore, so,” Theon said. She sounded sharper – more awake. Her smirk flickered across her mouth, familiar and warm. “So it falls to Asha and I. I might become the next Lady of Harlaw now, I’ve not heard any word of Uncle Rodrik or Aunt Gwynesse marrying or gaining any rock spouses. So Harlaw still needs an heir. He has to listen to me for that alone. And… and I am his daughter, come home after a decade. He will be glad to see how I’ve thrived. We can make this work. He will be glad to see me.”

Theon turned her head to look up at him from where her cheek pressed against the furs. The firelight glowed against her skin and caught like embers in her hair. Robb couldn’t breathe for a moment, there was a fist squeezing his heart. Her smirk, her flinty eyes, the dark tangled silk of her hair –

He’d had her in his arms a handful of days ago – had her in his lap with her mouth against his and his hands in her hair and her hands shoving at his breeches until he keened in the back of his throat like something wounded and wanting – and how had he ever forgotten?

Robb’s arms wanted to buckle. His mouth was dry and there was a heat low in his belly and a sudden cold clarity in his brain.

Oh.

His mouth opened on its own accord, but Theon beat him to it, grinning now. Triumphant.

“We’ll have our fleet, Robb. I promise.”

[welcometoyournewhell]

Make Up.... Tickles?

A/N: This was more of a warm up as I try to escape my writers block. Done on the phone.... Enjoy!

Warning: Talk of death, self harm, and possibly suicidal thinking.

_____

Shiro frowned. He'd fucked up, he knew he did. He was glad to see Adam was alive, but knew the other had to forgiven him. He'd tried to apologize for months now.

Sure, the medical ward gave the captain the chills, but he'd try to see Adam! It became a routine. Once a month he'd come down and try to talk to the other. He tried to space it so it wasn't too annoyingly consistent and it gives the brunette time to cool off.

It seemed every time he tried to make up with the other.... it just lead to a bigger battle. Like.... now.

"Should have picked up that cute, young guy from the bridge then. " Shiro sighed as he looked over the other with frustrated eyes.

"What goes on between Curtis and I does not affect my feelings for you. " He had to remind himself that Adam probably didn't feel the same anymore. The former professor rolled his eyes as he moved a plushie from under his scarred side.

It was an old withered hippo. "Besides, it seems you like him too. " Adam huffed. "He's eye candy, Takashi. I haven't talked to him, there for I can't like him. " Gray eyes rolled. "Whatever. Give me Keith's hippo, I'll give it to him later. "

Adam quirked a brow. "Why? He's been sleeping down here a lot. " Had he? Regardless... it struck a nerve. "So Keith is in the clear and you hate me now? " Shiro was honestly upset. They both left, but Adam snuggled and cuddled his baby.

And the hero before him? The first two weeks they were fine, but history repeated itself. They had to go to space once more and the frail remain of the professor said he was going. The rolls had switched and the argument stayed the same.

"He's like a son, Takashi." Shiro growled softly. "And I was your fiancee!" He sounded like a child. He knew it, and the look on Adam's face said he was getting annoyed with it.

"Was. You valued space over me. " That did it. Gray eyes watered as his voice reached a pitch he'd only ever used with Adam. The two fought viciously and loudly depending on the topic at times.

" I valued space over you?! I was going to come back Adam, I was dying. It was a dream of mine and I wanted to live my life to the fullest! But you didn't want to wait!" The brunette sat up with a growl now. "Really?! Because you just fucking left Keith and I! You had an expiration date Shiro, it was getting narrower and narrower each day!

"How many times did I have to rush you to the med bay, huh?! Your time was cut in half and you couldn't except it! " That was.... a bit much. The room was quiet as the guilt set in. It felt like and hour before one of them spoke again. "I don't know why you keep trying. It's been too long. "

No.... it had been six or seven years. "Because I've loved you for over a decade. Because you fucking popped my cherry. Because you loved me, despite my illness. " Shiro wouldn't look at him.

He had tears coming down his face. "You were my best friend since fourteen. You were my best friend before you left me. I'd keep Sam up at night trying to come up with ideas to win you over when we got home. I thought of you to get me through each torture session, each fight. "

He looked up, tears now rushing down his cheeks. "Through leading a team of kids into a 10,000 year war. When I was trapped in Black, you kept me sane. I... was so happy to get home. " He sniffles a bit as he balled his fists.

"I fucking mourned for you Adam! Keith and I both! I wanted to die right then and there! I never got to say sorry, I never got to say good bye! Keith was devastated, he felt guilty for not leaving a note. He would cry at least three times a mo the over it and curl up with me in bed. "

He felt so childish. Harshly wiping away his tears he shook his head. "Forget it. I hope Roy can fill the hole for you. " As he turned to leave he felt something hit his back. Had... has the other really just thrown a pillow?

"Who.... told you about Roy?" White brows furrowed. "Why did you ask it like that?" Adam curled up more, eyes darting to the cold food plate from that afternoon. "I dated Roy for a month Shiro. Half way through you were announced dead and... I couldn't do it anymore.

"The guilt, everything. He was trying to be you, replace you. For Keith anyway. That's mainly why I ditched him." There was more, a lot more.... but Adam wasn't going to get I to it. Shiro looked confused. "The way he's been talking about you.... I thought you guys were.... a thing."

The professor's eyes narrowed. "Iverson let him on the ship?! " Okay.... something happened. The shorter frowned as he put the pillow back. He couldn't help it, he had to touch the other. He had to hug Adam, his home, his safety. "Keep him away from my baby, " he grumbled. "So the replacement thing is why Keith's been glaring daggers?"

The professor nodded. "That and he was an ass the whole time. All he wanted was in my pants." He paused, he shouldn't be talking Shiro this. "Wait, you thought I was dating Roy but still keep trying to 'charm' me back?"

Adam smirked a bit as Shiro stood up with an awkward panic. "When you say it like that! Uh.... well, " he sighed. "Yeah.... pretty much." The short he got in response made his stomach burst with butterflies. "And even though you want Curtis?" The shorter usher as he covered his face. "Adam." The sound cane out muffled.

The professor was laughing softly. Despite everything.... he still wanted Adam. It brought a small smile to the taller's face. It fell after a few moments. "I'm sorry, for being so cold." Shiro uncovered his hands a bit with a look of shock and confusion.

"You.... Your what? " Adam's face shifted as a blush spread. Pillow in hand he threw it at the other once more. "You heard me, you ass!" The other picked it up while laughing. "Did the Adam Wright just.... apologize to me?" Shiro got to his knees, bowing. "I am unworthy."

Adam's blush grew as he threw another pillow. "Knock it off you dork!" He had a shy smile as he hugged the last pillow like childishly. The captain figured it had gone on long enough and placed the pillows back before sitting beside the other.

Brown met gray before aged lips shut slowly. Destroyed lips touched softly, connecting like magnets. Shiro slowly pulled away, gray eyes fi ding brown again. Large, white brows turned up wards softly as a smile came to his face.

"I love you. " Adam leaned forward into his chest. "I love you too.... no matter how toxic we can be. " The guilt was setting in. He looked at his arms, ghostly burning coming over him. His hand was taken by a scarred one.

The sleeve was moved down before lips found self inflicted markings. "I didn't believe them when they told me about this." The lips tried over more and more marks, too softly. Adam smiled a bit as he pulled at his arm.

"Stop giving it attention. I was.... in a shitty space, okay?" Loosing his fiancee, his son.... the guilt on top of it all. He was stupid. Covering his arm, he blushed once more as soft eyes met tired ones. "You need to smile more. "

Wait.... did he mean. "Don't. You. Dare." It was too late. A force smile came to the other's mouth as crinkles apperead around soft eyes. "Dhahahon't tickle me!" Adam's head pressed back into the pillow, slightly greasy, brown locks move about as they splayed around his head.

He tried to put the other's hands away, but they were too strong. What happened to his scrawny fiancee?! "Sthahaop, don't play with that!" A finger circled around his navel, Nanking him nuts.

"With what.... this?" Shiro dipped the human finger in a little before moving around. Adam screamed softly with a squeal as he moved around. "K-Kahahashi!" It was too tickly!

Fingers soon spread to the rest of his torso, warning soft laughter and giggled. "This is unfair, " the brunette spat like venom as the Bluetooth arm kept a hand overhead. His robs and armpit were exposed to the captain. "Is it? Huh.... see I remember you going so far as to call in a friend or tie my hands to the headboard and tickling me silly. " A blush spread on Adam's face.

"Don't make it sound so kinky!" Shiro smiled before blowing a raspberry on the unharmed ribs. The free hand was having at his head as legs kicked out. "Takashi! Sthahahahop! It tickles, " Adam squealed as he turned his head away. His legs kicked out and curled with each blow.

He felt so weak in the other's hands.... but he also felt safe. "EHAK! Shahahiro!" He shoved at his love's hands. His ears were being tickled softly. It had been forever since anyone had touched him there.... his kill zone.

Shiro pulled him up more before kissing behind his ear a little. Brown eyes widened before a large blush set in. Adam had become so touch starved without realizing it. He fell limp in the other's arms as fingers started to tickle under his chin and behind his ear.

He was weak, and it felt nice. He let his lover over take him. He hugged around the younger's neck, laughing helplessly as lips found his neck and finger's found his lower sides. He was... home. His Takashi was home.

Breathless lips hadn't realized the torment ended before lip pressed against them. Tired brown eyes opened to meet joyful gray ones. Shiro pulled back to chuckle softly. "Did I kill you?" Adam huffed a bit as he fixed his new glasses. "Yes, " he sighed.

"Oh, let me help. " A shriek rung out as fingers scratched up one of Adam's soles. It stopped quickly as the robot arm returned to Shiro's side. "Your a dead man, Shirogane." The smirk on the professor's face said nap time would wait.

The captain shrugged. "I've already died, nothing new. " Too soon. Adam growled with a short battle cry before knocking the other over and mercilessly tickling around the new body.

Shiro would learn.... the death jokes had to stop.

[texanredrose]

Carry Me Home

Uh, somehow I thought I’d already posted this? But apparently I haven’t? Weird. Anyway, the reward for meeting one of October’s goals! Winter x Sienna fake dating AU, plus some Calichrome (not a triad; still working on that part) on the side.

Sienna scanned the interior of the bar, the light bass that pumped out of the speakers soothing her as much as the alcohol in her system. She'd already been out for a ride earlier, though she'd politely kept out of trouble this time if only to soothe Ghira's nerves, but returning to the bar remained the best way to unwind after a long day. Faunus from all around came to the place- a true landmark, the first Faunus owned establishment in Atlas. It remained a bastion even after all these years where their people would always be welcome.

But her senses remained sharp, always alert to any danger. Sometimes, particularly problematic humans would come along, attempting to provoke them into a fight.

And Sienna? She'd give them that fight, to the point that it'd made Ghira turn grey at the temples but their paths had diverged long ago. Now, he stood as a pillar of the community while she... well... Sienna stood as a pillar of her community, the camaraderie of the White Fang Gang and the patrons of the bar. They achieved the same goals... just through different means.

Even she had her limits, though.

"Sienna?" Her ear flicked before she turned to face Corsac properly, though she didn't bother getting up from her seat. She could tell just by the look on their faces what they would bring up and wouldn't give it any serious thought. "We have a proposition."

"What is it this time?" She drawled, sipping on her beer idly. Before they could start speaking, though, she held up a finger to stop them, lolling her head slightly. "And if I hear that bastard's name come out of your mouth, I'm kicking both of you out for the night."

"But, he has a point," Corsac said, his brother beginning the pitch in earnest.

"We used to be feared all over Remnant. The White Fang Gang stood for something and now we're a run-of-the-mill biker gang." Fennec swept a hand to indicate the rest of the bar. "While we sit here and get drunk, the humans-"

"Also sit places and get drunk." She rolled her eyes. True, some part of her longed for that days when they were as much a group a bikers as that of traveling warriors, showing up in force whenever bigoted humans thought they could intimidate Faunus in one way or another. But those were the old days. "We have to fight our enemies in the proper arenas. As long as we ride, we still stand for that desire to fight and protect what we've built. Our reputation hasn't suffered. But we're not hoodlums destroying property because it makes us feel good." That last part she'd delivered with a sneer, showing clear disdain for the brat who'd dare try to usurp her control of the White Fang. "So unless you have something worthy of my time, go play pool, get drunk, or go home."

"Sienna, we must be proactive-"

Shooting to her feet, she rounded on them, making both cower before her. Even if she didn't typically employ intimidation anymore, that didn't mean she'd lost her knack for it. "Are we not proactive? We have a community that spans all of Mantle, a free flow of resources to ensure no Faunus goes without food or shelter, that each and every one has a safe place to stay. I rode out today to act as guest speaker during a history lesson, to give an account of what Faunus have faced in the past, so our history isn't forgotten." Her eyes narrowed, ears laying back as neither Albain would raise their gaze to look her in the face. "Is that not proactive enough for you? Or do you only define 'proactive' by how much blood is shed?"

They didn't dare lift their heads. As loyally as they seemed to follow that bullheaded idiot's lead, at the end of the day, she was stronger, and they wouldn't start a battle they knew they couldn't win.

"Is everything alright?" Even over the music pulsing through the club, Tukson's voice carried well as he stepped up into the booth area carrying two beers.

"Everything's fine," she replied, resuming her seat. "They were just leaving."

Without another word, Corsac and Fennec left, brushing past the patrons and other White Fang bikers quickly. No doubt running back to tell how they'd failed, yet again, to persuade her.

"Let me guess." Taking a seat beside her, Tukson offered one of the beers, though she still had half of hers left. "The Albains were trying to pass off Adam's ideas as their own again."

"I don't understand their fanatical devotion to that cretin." She scrunched up her nose and then sighed. "I suppose it's my fault, in part. I shouldn't have encouraged his more... violent inclinations."

"It was a different time." He shrugged. "The kid's gone too far now; we all know it."

Sienna remained silent, occupying herself with her beer. Frankly, some part of her missed the days when force was met with force, but she understood the need to be more... reactionary in that capacity now. Rather than picking fights, they attended rallies and protests and marches, acting as the muscle to discourage humans who refused to see them as equals. It worked- and rather well- but, sometimes, she got the itch to throw the first punch, too.

She just had self control.

Her ears flicked forward, picking up the sudden change in chatter that droned beneath the music, how movement suddenly stopped. Scanning the room, her gaze landed on the disruption- though the woman causing it appeared oblivious.

"Hey..." Tukson sat forward, a frown coming to his lips. "Isn't that-"

"I do believe it is." Sitting forward, she set down her beer. "Tonight's about to get more interesting."

Brushing past other patrons, Winter Schnee marched towards an empty seat at the bar, trying not to ground her teeth with every step. She'd made the foolish mistake of heading straight from the airship to the family mansion to meet with Father, hoping for a quick resolution to whatever errand General Ironwood had her running but no.

Of all the stupid, controlling, underhanded, low down-

"Can I help you?"

Absently, she noted the bartender's stiff posture and tone, but couldn't be bothered to care. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her uniform jacket and slapped down every lien she had, plus a card. "Double scotch. No, nevermind, the strongest you have instead, whatever it is, please."

"It's not that much-"

Her gaze flicked to meet his, trying to control her fury as best she could. "The lien is for encouragement; the card is for my tab. I'd thank you to trust that I know my limits."

"Alright." He reached beneath the bar with a nod, then coughed into his fist. "Just the one or..."

"If you could line up four more, it would save us both some time," she replied, running a hand through her bangs while he complied with her request.

Being a soldier, she'd put up with her fair share of last minute changes and nigh impossible deadlines, but the stresses that came with military life paled in comparison to the ongoing agony of putting up with her family.

Well, she shouldn't say that, seeing as she was actually rather fond of her sister, but with her brother taking more after their father than anything, and Father himself being just about the only person she could think of that she wouldn't save from a burning building, the generalized statement remained true.

Some part of her thought that rather harsh, even if the sentiment only existed as a vague frustration vented in the privacy of her own mind- he was her father- but then she thought of all the reasons she had to be furious with the man, added on their conversation just an hour ago, and decided that she wouldn't be remiss at all for such barefaced hatred. The entire reason she'd joined the military straight after university was to leave behind all the trapping and annoyances of her youth, to include his overbearing parenting, but he seemed determined to drag her back into it. Not for any sentimental reason, no, he just didn't like the idea of someone being out from under his nerve.

She tossed back two of the shots the moment they were poured, the unfamiliar alcohol burning all the way down and making her almost regret her decision to drown her anger. The third went down much smoother, though, and the fourth almost felt pleasant.

A single night to drown her anger, to indulge it, before she buried it deep and muscled her way through the misery just like every time before.

With her fingers closing around the fifth, she paused to sigh and rub at her temple. Her last mission to Mistral had kept her at sea level for a few months and she hadn't drank during that time; her tolerance must've quickly left her, for the alcohol to already be filtering into her system. The lack of food probably didn't help.

Did this place sell food?

"You... want some more?" The bartender regarded her wearily while collecting up her empty glasses.

"Does this establishment sell food?" She ignored the question for the moment.

"No."

"Fuck." She ran a hand through her bangs again. "Just one more, then."

Without food, she wouldn't be able to sit there and drink all night- experience had taught her it was a good way to end up in someone's bathtub, and she was running rather short on people in the area she could trust. Reporting to the Headquarters building just so General Ironwood could personally inform her that Jacques had somehow gotten him to order her to attend his stupid gathering left her without a unit to contact and she'd intentionally driven as far from the base itself as possible to put distance between herself and everyone she'd rather like to punch.

She didn't even know the name of the bar, much less the town.

Tossing back the fifth shot, she slammed the glass onto the bar top with a bit too much force.

"You should be more careful." Winter twisted around on the barstool, ready to snap at whoever had so foolishly intruded on an already bad day, but her gaze landed on a Faunus... with absolutely stunning amber eyes framed by dark stripes that stood out against chestnut colored skin. The words died on her lips as she stopped to take in the biking leathers, the metal of zippers catching the low light of the bar. Tall with a nigh regal air about her that seemed much larger, somehow filling Winter's vision with her statuesque physique though they probably only differed by a few inches. Amidst short midnight black hair, two feline ears canted her way, the stripes on her arms clearly marking her as a tiger Faunus while the subtle definition indicated she was a warrior first and dignitary second. She couldn't begin to decipher the meaning of the red mark in the center of her forehead but set that aside for the moment as she began to speak. "If you break a glass, you will be paying for it."

Blue eyes darted to the recently emptied shot glass. "That's... fair. And you are?"

"Sienna Khan." With long, smooth strides, the Faunus claimed the seat beside her and set her beer down on the wood with a dull thunk. "And this is my bar."

"I apologize for my misconduct," she replied, sitting up a bit straighter and making an attempt at controlling the light flush filling her cheeks. "I'm Winter."

Somehow over the music, she heard the quiet chuckle that quite nearly sent shivers down her spine- likely due to the alcohol now crashing through her system. "I'm well aware of who you are."

She looked away coughing into her hand and grabbing the next shot, thankful to see the bartender had another at the ready. "Forgive the attempt at anonymity."

"Now isn't that curious." Sienna leaned against the bar and tilted her head. "Your family isn't usually so keen on hiding themselves. Loud, proud, and rather... obnoxious, I suppose would be a polite way of putting it."

With a shake of her head, she downed the next shot and set it on the counter- much softer this time. "While part of me recognizes it's well deserved, another part of me is constantly at war with the idea of never escaping a legacy I didn't build."

"Turnabout is fair play."

"Indeed it is." She raised the next shot glass. "And here's one to a lesson that never ends."

Part of the reason she loathed attending any manner of family gathering tied directly to her Father's awful personality and terrible business dealings. Their shared home life remained a point of contention as well but, ultimately, unrelated to the much longer problem he'd presented as being a complete and utter douche.

Ah, the alcohol had started kicking in, it seemed.

"So, what brings the eldest scion of the Schnee lineage to a little Faunus owned bar?"

Winter turned her head, meeting those burning golden eyes. "A mighty need for alcohol."

The laugh that answered her brought a little grin to her lips. "I suppose that's the correct answer. Perhaps it's on me for expecting a bigger reason."

"Now that is a longer story and, frankly, you'd probably be amused by it."

"Try me."

Downing the next shot, Winter leaned back, keeping a firm grip on the bar to ensure she didn't lose her seat. "My Father, in typical Jack-ass fashion, has opted to host an extravagant party, to which I am being ordered to attend by the military. Because otherwise, I wouldn't want to be around those old, stuffy, bigoted, pieces of Grimm shit for anything." Blinking her eyes, she noticed the fuzziness in her vision, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the bar. "I fought tooth and nail to get out of that house, away from him. Weiss, too. Now we're being forced back, like there's chains about our throats. It's absolutely abdominal." ... wait. "Abdominal? Abominable? That one."

She reached forward to collect another shot but a hand landed on her wrist, gently stopping her just short. "As amusing as it would be to watch you drink yourself under the table, I think you should be at least somewhat coherent."

"Any particle- particular reason?" Despite the occasional stumble, she remained remarkably in control of her facilities and aware of her surroundings. Like how Sienna leaned closer, using her foot to drag her stool near, and the mixed scents of gas and leather and sweat coming from her jacket, and the way her mouth quirked up into a smirk.

"Have you considered making your father regret forcing you to attend this party of his?"

Her eyes narrowed, unable to connect the dots- and she didn't think that had anything to do with the alcohol. "How so?"

"Do you have a date?" Her smirk slowly pulled a little wider. "Because, unless I miss my guess, your father seems like the type who would sooner jump out a window than willingly stand in the same room as someone like me."

Again, her gaze roved, at first missing the implication, because she saw nothing before her that would prompt her to leave a room- rather the opposite, in fact- but her father was a lesser creature. He'd turn his nose up at the riding leathers and stench of gasoline, he'd roll his eyes as the ink tattooed into her skin, and he'd absolutely go red in the face seeing a proud Faunus sitting at his dinner table.

"You... do you have any idea what you're suggesting?" Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "He's not a man known for being reasonable or caring."

"And I'm not known for being a doormat." Sienna offered her hand. "Perhaps I forgot to mention. I'm the owner of this bar and the current leader of the White Fang Gang."

The White Fang Gang- the unofficial militia turned motorcycle gang that had always stood ready to protect the Faunus all over Remnant. Painted as criminals by Father but more often than not merely toeing the lines of legality to ensure the safety of their own; she'd heard her fair share of stories about them, and far more correct versions during her tenure in the military. Just knowing the organization continued- and had gained favorable repute in recent years- nearly gave the man a heart attack whenever the news mentioned them. Having a member under his roof, and for that member to be the leader?

Now, she'd caught on to exactly what Sienna was suggesting, leaving the alcohol alone and turning to face her, slipping her hand into the waiting one. "Would you like to be my date for the party and potentially send my father into an apoplectic fit?"

In those eyes, a fire ignited. "It would be my pleasure."

Sienna, somehow, managed to reach her front door without too much difficulty, despite carrying over a hundred pounds of dead weight. "If I'd know you were this much of a lightweight, I would've cut you off sooner."

"I'm not a lightweight; it's the altitude," the woman replied, words slurred but still  understandable, if barely. "Where are we again?"

"For the fifth time, my apartment." She rolled her eyes but got the door open and carried Winter inside, having hoisted her onto her back when it became apparent that dismounting the motorcycle would be a bit too difficult. The ride from the bar hadn't been eventful- in fact, she'd honestly though her passenger had fallen asleep- but her state had deteriorated rapidly between points A and B, making this next step a bit... sticky.

It had seemed like an entirely sound suggestion for them to head back to Sienna's apartment, spend a bit of time in close proximity to really 'sell' the idea that they were together, but that was when she thought the woman would be capable of standing on her own two feet. Now, going through with that idea felt disingenuous at best.

"I like your tattoos." Kicking her door closed with her foot, she debated where to set down her drunken visitor while Winter continued mumbling into her shoulder. "I always wanted a tattoo."

"Of what?" The couch was closer, so she felt a mighty temptation to set her there and grab an extra blanket she kept on hand, but it wouldn't be very comfortable and it wasn't very close to the bathroom. That could be mitigated with a trash can, of course, but she didn't know if Winter would be able to aim well enough and scrubbing vomit from her carpet didn't sound like how she wanted to spend the following morning.

"A bird." One hand made a gesture that... probably would've resembled something, had she been sober, but came out more like an inelegant flap in a nonspecific direction. "Flying, free, perhaps a falcon of some sort."

"You strike me as more of a swan, really." Ultimately, she decided it would be poor manners to simply dump the woman on the couch. The bed was more comfortable anyway. "Why haven't you gotten it?"

"I'm not very free, am I? Trading one set of chains for another." A groan. "I shouldn't say that. It's insensitive."

"I assure you I have much thicker skin than you seem to think." She moved through the hallway leading back to her bedroom, careful not to drift too close to the walls. Not that Winter was waving her arms about but she'd rather not be picking up glass from a shattered picture frame. "Here, you can always speak freely. If you step out of line, I'll be sure to educate you." She toed her door open, momentarily regretting that she hadn't exactly expected company but also not bothered by it. In all likelihood, the woman would stumble out of the bedroom before she'd completely sobered up and wouldn't recall a bit of mess here and there. "And I'm beginning to see that it's not an inaccurate description. Just avoid a direct comparison."

"Of course. That makes sense." Winter sighed. "Your hair smells nice."

Sienna stopped at the side of her bed. "... thank you?"

"Skin, too."

"Excuse me?"

"You just... smell good." A slight groan. "I don't look forward to waking up and realizing this is all a dream."

A grin curled her lips. If someone asked her to imagine how a drunken Schnee scion might act, the reality would be just about the furthest thing from her mind. "Do your dreams often involve the smell of someone's skin?"

"Only the really good ones." With a bit of cajoling, Winter gained her feet, though she still clung to the Faunus' arm as a means of steadying herself before ungracefully falling onto the bed. "Why did you get them? The tattoos?"

For a moment, she stood beside the bed, mulling over whether she should really answer that question or not. Admittedly, she probably shouldn't, but part of the reason she'd invited the woman back to her apartment was so they could become more comfortable around each other. Hiding the truth seemed counter intuitive to that plan.

"There was a time when humans called Faunus nothing more than mindless animals." She sat down on the edge, unzipping her jacket and peeling it off to put her arms on full display. "So I became the tiger of their nightmares, because not only did I bear the stripes and ears of one, I had a mind just as sharp as theirs. They're a testament to how every insult they hurled at me just made me stronger than them."

Blinking slowly, Winter watched her for a moment, obviously fighting the inclination to sleep. "You earned them."

"I did. Through trial and tribulation, through every set back, I earned them." She smiled. "And they're nothing to be ashamed of."

A few nods before her brow pinched together, realizing that perhaps she was too drunk to accomplish that sort of motion at present. "I think they're rather fletching. What? Fetching. Beautiful. Divine."

"That is a step too far, I think." Chuckling, she got up, helping the woman settle and pointing her towards the bathroom. She even flipped on the light and cracked the door, just in case she needed the extra assistance in the middle of the night.

With all that done, Sienna settled on her couch and idly wondered how the following morning would play out. On the one hand, they might still try to pull this off, and she stood a good chance of making a massively public statement without spilling an ounce of blood. On the other... it could be very awkward if Winter had no recollection of that conversation.

She'd find out in the morning, one way or another.

Sienna carefully crept down the hallway, alert for any sounds. She'd woken up shortly after dawn and opted to doze while waiting for her guest to join her but, with the hour just shy of midday, she had to admit to some... serious concern. Surely Winter had to be awake by now, unless she'd somehow slipped out in the middle of the night, and there still remained the question of just what sort of person would wake up. Provided she woke up, of course, though she seriously doubted the woman had imbibed that much in the short time she was at the bar.

From the door, she could hear the gentle sound of the woman breathing, deep and even, and carefully pushed it open.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said softly, leaning against the doorjamb for a moment. Apparently, Winter was a very messy sleeper, though that might be because she fell asleep three sheets to the wind. Experience had taught the Faunus that waking up someone who didn't have their bearings could be a dangerous affair- especially if that person happened to be trained in any manner of combat- so she merely raised her voice. "Time to wake up."

"I am on leave, I wake up when I damn well feel like it," Winter replied, voice thick with sleep and not moving a muscle in the process.

"You may be on leave but you're in my bed."

A moment of silence before the woman suddenly jerked upright, scrubbing at her eyes and casting around before settling her gaze on the Faunus. "... it wasn't a dream?"

Sienna shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Though, if sober you has reservations, we needn't proceed with our plan. Sometimes liquor pulls from us things best left resting."

She looked away, obviously contemplating whether or not to go through with it, but when she looked back, blue eyes seemed focused on the ink on her arms before moving up to her face. "Is breakfast or lunch more appropriate?"

"I know a place that sells both." Her attention fell to the wrinkled clothing the woman slept in, the military uniform beyond wearable at this point. "But you aren't leaving here dressed like that."

The smirk that curled Winter's lips bolstered her confidence. "I would be delighted if I could borrow something more appropriate."

Walking over to her closet, Sienna threw it open to reveal a fair amount of leather. "Let's see if I have something in your size."

After picking out a suitable outfit and seeing Winter bedecked in riding leathers, with her hair down and a smirk on her lips... she had to admit some part of her regretted that this entire venture would only last until the party.

During her life, Winter had imagined more than once wiping the smug look off Father's face. She thought joining the military might do it, denying anything to do with the family legacy, perhaps even flippantly insulting him whenever some reporter chased her down for a sound bite, but it had never worked. He looked at her as he always did, with that stern tilt to his jaw, as if she was just another stone he had to step on to continue on his path. It infuriated her more than she'd ever admit.

But with the roar of Sienna's motorcycle ringing in her ears as they pulled up to the estate a short week later, the potential for what awaited her... honestly, she almost didn't care. It would be good of course, and something she'd look back upon often after he disowned her- or whatever other manner of 'punishment' he might dream up- but it wouldn't be the highlight of the night for her.

No, that spotlight had already been stolen entirely.

Sienna had forgone her usual riding leathers for a more formal outfit- a bit awkward to wear with their chosen method of transportation, but she made it work- wedge heels that gave her just a few more inches and an intricate shawl dyed blood red. Not exactly subtle but it fit her so well, enhanced the cutting look in her eyes, and Winter knew, the moment she saw her, that she would be entering the mansion with the most gorgeous date.

Though, only for the night.

As they pulled up to the gate, she reached out and punched a code into the keypad, allowing the gate to swing open. She could see on the ride up the drive that they weren't the first to arrive but certainly not the last; Father had taken up a position at the top of the steps leading into the mansion, obviously awaiting their arrival.

Unlike the first time she'd rode on the bike, drunkenly slumped against Sienna's back, this time she had her arms firmly secured around the Faunus' waist, squeezing lightly and tilting her head to speak into the special holes cut into her helmet to allow her ears free movement.

"He's watching us."

"Then let's give him a show," she replied, revving the engine and shooting them forward before coasting to a stop off to the side of the drive- within easy reach if they had to make a quick escape.

The moment the engine died, Father began his tirade. "Winter, where have you been?"

Reaching up, she pulled off her helmet- her helmet, because borrowing Sienna's extra one made her feel awkward, seeing as she didn't have a second set of ears to fill the spaces- and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm on leave, Father, and I decided to spend my vacation with my girlfriend."

She dismounted the motorcycle first, the creaking of her leather jacket music to her ears. She hadn't bought herself a new wardrobe in years- the military provided her with work and workout attire, and her 'social life' may as well be nonexistent- but riding leathers of her own, ones that fit her style and her frame, gave her just a bit more confidence as she met his gaze. Truly, she relished the rising tide of fury turning his delicate skin the same shade as a tomato, but turned her attention away to offer a hand as Sienna dismounted.

"Thank you, my Seraph." Removing her own helmet brought her ears out on display, the appendages rotating and wiggling as they often did whenever freed from the constraint. They both set their helmets down on the seat, Winter offering her arm and smiling softly.

They'd spent the past week... well... getting closer, would be one way to put it. Trading simple information at first, over brunch at a Faunus owned bistro that served some of the best food she'd ever had. But, when the night came, Winter found herself reluctant to either return to her family home or retreat to a hotel room, so she found herself on Sienna's couch- after a brief argument, to be sure, but she didn't think it appropriate to kick her host out of her own bed. They spent a few days practicing simple motions, like the casual touches that would naturally come between partners, sitting close together on the couch while watching television, dancing at the bar whenever there were few patrons to object to the change in music, and the like. Winter honestly had never felt more comfortable around someone.

"Father, I'd like to properly introduce you," she said, tearing her gaze away to look at the man- and they very well might push him into a heart attack before they even hit the door, given how he was shaking with barely contained rage. "This is Sienna-"

"I know. Who she is." Through gritted teeth and with an artery pulsing at his temple, he looked at both of them with utter contempt. "How dare you-"

"Please, don't hold it against her, Sir." Sienna's voice was smoother than silk and sweeter than the finest sugar, because they both knew that would piss him off much worse than if she scoffed in his face. "She's always so mindful of the family legacy."

"Of course." Winter chuckled warmly, pouring it on thick as she spied just what she wanted to see out of the corner of her eye. "I know how dalliances would look in the public eye, Father. I wanted to ensure we were serious and committed before going public with our relationship."

Before he had the chance to blow up, they all heard the snap of a scroll picture being taken a moment before some reporter or other darted up to the trio with his device out and most likely recording. "Miss Schnee, can you confirm that on the record? You two are dating?"

"We are indeed," she replied, a soft chuckle passing her lips as Sienna pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

Father opened his mouth, likely to deliver one of his famous, grave 'a word in my study, now' lines, but his attention got pulled away as a limo started up the drive. With Klein in the front seat- and Whitley living at the mansion- he'd obviously just returned with Weiss, whom she hoped would simply shrug off being informed about her supposed girlfriend. They kept in touch more regularly in recent years but... well, she couldn't be exactly sure how her sister might react.

Until the limo came to a stop and Klein hurried to the door, opening it with a beaming smile hiding beneath his bushy mustache.

And he had every reason to do so.

Weiss got out first, of course, but she immediately turned around and offered a hand to her date- someone Winter immediately recognized from her sister's correspondence, even if they'd never been formally introduced.

"Blake." Her own date smiled even wider, obviously enjoying this stroke of luck. "What a wonderful surprise."

"Sienna?" Feline ears- not the same size or shape as the tiger Faunus', and idly she wondered about that- perked up as she laughed, though it sounded somewhat forced. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, my sweet Seraph only informed me a week ago that we'd be attending." She gestured to Winter, and something must've been communicated in that gesture because Blake immediately relaxed.

"See?" Weiss- either playing along or being entirely genuine, it was difficult to tell- turned her attention towards her date. "I truly informed you as soon as I knew."

"I never said you didn't," Blake replied, offering a hand to a third person exiting the limo. "I just wished for more warning; Ilia and I did have a date planned for tonight."

Another Faunus stepped out- this one unfamiliar to Winter, but about the same age as her sister, and she might've missed the brilliant red flush to her skin if she hadn't been so curious- and grey eyes flicked between Weiss and Blake before a scoff left her lips. "I still say this is breaking the rules."

"I will absolutely make it up to you." She reached up, pushing her bangs away from her eyes, highlighting the lack of foundation to cover her scar. "I promise-"

"Who. Are. They?" If Father wasn't close to some manner of aneurysm before, he certainly had to be on the verge of one now.

"Oh, forgive my manners, Father." Weiss turned. "This is my girlfriend, Blake, and her girlfriend, Ilia."

The reporter, who'd shied away when it looked like Father might make a scene, snapped another picture of the trio, drawing a heated glare from the man as he struggled with trying to formulate words.

Although aware of it, she didn't particularly care.

"Her girlfriend?" Winter raised a brow, certain she'd missed some manner of nuance.

Sienna put a hand on the small of her back, a soothing gesture. "Oh, Blake's polyamorous; her partners don't always date each other."

"Ah." She couldn't admit that she didn't quite understand the concept so instead offered a hand to both of them. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Weiss' sister, Winter."

"We've heard a lot about you," Blake said, offering a small smile and subtly nudging Ilia into at least shaking her hand.

With a huff and something... almost like a growl, Father turned on heel and marched inside, all the while muttering beneath his breath and being trailed by the reporter at a safe distance. Some part of her relished it but she didn't watch longer than absolutely necessary, instead turning her attention to her sister as a question nagged at the back of her mind.

"Last I heard, you two were just friends." She motioned between Weiss and Blake. "How long have you been dating?"

Almost immediately, her sister's composure crumbled. "Uh, well, officially dating is- that, I mean, I don't exactly remember when-"

"Three weeks," Blake replied, her ears twitching slightly as she wrapped an arm around one girlfriend's waist. "She wanted to tell you but... thought doing so in person would be better."

A frown tugged at her lips as her brows furrowed. "While I appreciate the consideration, I would've been happy to know sooner. I'm glad your studies abroad aren't your sole focus." Her gaze drifted to Ilia. "And thank you."

"Me?" Seemingly taken aback, she looked at the others, her high ponytail whipping to the side slightly before her eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"I don't... exactly understand what polyamorous is-"

"Polyamory." Sienna gently corrected, chuckling. "I'll explain it later."

"I appreciate that." She nodded before continuing her thought. "Anyway, while I don't understand it, I do realize that it must be a unique position you're in, and I'd like to thank you for giving my sister this opportunity. I've always worried she'd be a bit too closed off to form close relationships-"

The hand at the small of her back slipped beneath her jacket, the surprising touch cutting her short. "I realize your intentions but I think you might be embarrassing her." Confused, she looked over to find Weiss looking a touch... shocked, she would say, though a blush had started in her cheeks and crept down her neck, but any attempt to further investigate was stopped when Sienna very gently prodded her up the steps. "Perhaps it would be better to have those conversations privately, and not before the sort of night we are expecting."

Winter pressed her lips into a line for a moment before acquiescing, heading through the double doors that served as the entrance to the mansion. "I... suppose you have a point."

"If it helps, I'm quite certain Blake's genuinely interested in her."

For a moment, she considered replying with 'as opposed to us' but the words... well, after spending so much time with Sienna, she had to admit that she didn't look forward to the end of the party, when they'd undoubtedly part ways. She still had to go back after her leave ended and the Faunus had a bar and biker group to run.

They could probably stay in touch, though. After all this, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to propose remaining friends, right?

... although that would mean she'd have to return Sienna's jacket at some point, the very one she was wearing, with the White Fang emblem on the back.

"Something's troubling you," Sienna said as they strolled through the foyer, past several servants who seemed hard pressed to hide their amusement.

"Have you... given any thought to what will happen after the night ends?" She cleared her throat as they stepped into the main ballroom, where guests were mingling and whispering to each other, more than a few throwing curious- and barely concealed disgusted- looks at them, not that either cared. "What I mean is, well, are we going to remain in contact after this?"

A hum answered her at first as her ears flicked around, catching the quiet conversations better than she could. "What are your thoughts on the matter?" One corner lifted up in a wry smirk. "I'm already here so I'll not be running off in the middle of the party, if that's your concern. You can be honest and it won't change the outcome of the night."

"I'd very much like to continue talking," she said, flashing a polite smile at one of the waiters while plucking two flutes of champagne from his tray, offering one to her date. "I'll have to return to Mistral at the end of the week, though, and my next leave won't be for another few months, at least."

"I never thought I'd say these words." Sienna accepted the flute and lightly clinked them together in a toast. "But I'm happy to have made a friend in the Atlesian military."

Although 'friend' wasn't... quite the word she would've wanted to hear, Winter smiled all the same and took a sip. "Likewise for the White Fang. Perhaps next leave, you'll teach me how to ride?"

"I can do that but I must warn you, you'll have to pick out your own bike."  She nodded her head towards the entrance, indicating her own motorcycle. "You can learn on mine but I don't ride bitch for anyone."

"I'd have it no other way." They both laughed, lightly, perfectly at ease despite the rising tide of outrage surrounding them, which only doubled when Weiss walked in with her own dates. Or... date? "Now, about this polyamorous thing-"

"Polyamory." Sienna rolled her eyes, though she didn't seem too upset over her continued confusion. "I'm surprised you're unfamiliar with the concept."

"Enlighten me, please."

"It's when-" Suddenly her ears flicked and her brows pinched together, turning towards the entrance to the ballroom. Whatever had caught her attention seemingly also caught Blake's, causing her to turn around as well, and that set both Ilia and Weiss on edge. "Don't tell me he's that stupid."

Before Winter had a chance to ask, she caught the reverberating roar of several motorcycles... inside the house, by the sound of it, and that proved true a moment later when three motorcycle roared into the ballroom, one after another. Her first thought was to pull Sienna out of harm's way but she got beaten to the punch when an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her just far enough off her feet to be moved back safely while several shouts of alarm from the other guests. Thankfully, the ruffians crashing the party didn't seem inclined to run anyone over, coming to a stop in the middle of the room and shutting off their engines.

"I'm guessing they're not friends of yours." She ventured, setting down her champagne and watching who appeared to be the ring leader of the trio- a bull Faunus with horns sweeping back over his red hair, having ridden in sans helmet.

"More like unruly children I'm forced to babysit." Sienna sighed, drawing herself up to her full height. "Adam, you absolute fool. Just what are you hoping to accomplish?"

"You mean aside from justice?" He sneered, hands clenched into fists. "The White Fang's grown weak under your leadership. It's time we take things in a... different direction."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that going to war is a bad idea." With slow, deliberate movements, she reached up and unhooked the pin keeping her shawl in place. "But if it's a fight you want, I'm more than happy to oblige." As the red fabric fell away, she turned her head to look at Winter. "Have you ever been in a bar fight?"

"Can't say that I have," she replied.

"First rule: only grab a weapon you can use," she said, wasting no time in kicking her leg out and hooking her foot around a nearby chair, pulling it towards her and unseating the stunned man formerly occupying it. In one smooth motion, she folded it closed and lifted it up, grabbing the chair by the legs while Adam pulled a metal bat from the side of his bike. "Second rule: everything's a weapon if you know what you're doing."

Winter watched, slightly stunned, as the other two Faunus- on one she could quite tell, but the ears on the other pointed to some manner of fox- charged forward with switchblades in their hands. They were both soundly met with the chair, Sienna hitting one and using the rebound to strike the other. She thought it would be then that this Adam character would strike, but he'd gotten distracted while glancing around the room.

"You." So much vile hatred packed into a single syllable as he stared at Blake across the ballroom, taking a menacing step forward. "It's almost like fate's brought us together again, my darling."

Quickly looking around, Winter couldn't quite find a recognizable weapon- plenty of paintings of Father, but not a single sword, even a decorative one, really, did the man's ego know no bounds- but opted to simply follow Sienna's lead, grabbing an empty chair and folding it in before coming up behind the Faunus with the ears and slamming the chair against his back. Sure, it probably counted as a bit underhanded, but she was also only armed with a chair while they had knives, so it probably balanced out.

While the two renegade Faunus stumbled and groaned from their injuries, Winter stepped up beside Sienna with confusion plain in her voice as she watched Adam's lunge miss its intended target. "I thought he was here to fight you; why is he going after Blake?"

"Because he's an idiot who doesn't understand the word 'no', and that's the answer to almost any question you ask," she replied, pressing their advantage and delivering another wicked blow to one's head while Winter caught the other as he tried to help, both blows resounding with rather satisfying thuds. "He's never been the most focused, except when blinded by rage, and he possesses absolutely no foresight."

"Then let's use that." She waited a moment until it looked like Adam might to lunge for Blake again, who'd broke away from Weiss and Ilia to draw his attention, before tossing her chair at him, the top of it catching his cheek solidly.

Shaking his head to clear it, his eyes fell upon her with the full strength of his rage.

"Good rule of thumb," Sienna said while stepping in front of her. "Don't throw away a weapon unless you've got a better one handy."

"I wasn't throwing it away; I was handing it off," she replied as Blake, seeing her opportunity, grabbed the chair and cracked Adam across the back of his head with it while Ilia disarmed one of the underlings and Weiss tackled the other to the ground. As the bull Faunus slumped to the ground, Winter plucked the bat from his limp grip, though she didn't have much reason to use it now. "See?"

"I stand corrected." Those golden eyes flicked over her and she couldn't help but preen a little bit. "You're rather good in a fight."

"I'm better with a sword." Purely for the purposes of showing off, she flipped the bat around, the weight of it hardly a problem after so many years spend studying swordplay. "Though I've never seen anyone wield a folding chair with such expert grace."

"I learned from the best." Her attention slid to Blake as she pointedly dropped the chair on Adam's unconscious form for good measure. "Your mother, specifically."

"So I've heard; never thought I'd have a chance to live up to her example." With a small nod, she excused herself to check on Weiss and Ilia, both of whom seemed to be having a quiet conversation that looked far more friendly than their interaction before.

"Klein." Winter turned, handing over the bat. "Keep this somewhere close by and call the authorities. Let them know we've dealt with some party crashers and we'd appreciate their assistance."

"I'm afraid I'll need to step out and make a call." A frown touched Sienna's lips. "Although Adam's been... removed from our ranks, the other two are still active White Fang members and I'll need to spread the word that their actions tonight have changed that. I'll not waste our community resources on them." She looked over at the motorcycles. "Could you ensure their bikes are impounded? They've certainly forfeited any right to them."

"I'll see to it, Ma'am." Klein bowed before shuffling away, bat in hand.

Winter turned her head, flashing a small smile towards some of the other guests. "We do apologize for the interruption. Please, everyone, continue with your evening."

"Is that all you have to say?" Her gaze slid over to see Father fuming as he entered the room. "That degenerate you call a date brought her filthy friends-"

In that moment, something happened that had never occurred before, because for all the times the man tried to get under her skin, she'd retained her poised at least until she left his presence. It was a skill Weiss didn't possess, always quicker to talk back, to show her emotions, but Winter never let him see her break composure. That, she would only allow in private, away from his judgmental gaze.

But that didn't hold true now.

"Shut your fucking mouth," she said, meeting his gaze evenly. "I know your mind's too small to think outside the box you've built around yourself, so allow me to translate into words you do understand. Sienna was just violently attacked by a political opponent, purely because bigoted curmudgeons like you continuously resist all attempts to be decent and fair people. Were you a little less of a blithering idiot, this whole mess could've been avoided, much like the recent poor turn your quarterly reports have taken." A pause, only long enough for him to think her finished, and then she continued. "It's really no wonder the only people willing to be near you have to be compensated for burden."

It remained one of the family's most guarded secrets. That about half of their supposed status and respect in Atlas was bought and paid for with 'donations' made almost every month. That the real reason any threats to the SDC's bottom line were considered so dire was that it would ruin the reputation Father had built. Where their maternal Grandfather had built his legacy upon being a good man, Father could only buy a shadow of the same, and Winter and Weiss knew it.

She knew, by the shaking in his voice and the look in his eyes, that she'd finally crossed the line. "Get out and do not come back."

"Gladly," she replied with a smile on her lips, turning and offering her arm to Sienna. "Shall we?"

"Let’s."

She caught Weiss' eye and noted the look of pride touched with a bit of jealousy- because she would've loved to be the one to tear him down like that- as well as the flash of the reporter's scroll as they left. Frankly, she hoped the caption read that it was one of the proudest moments of her life, because that would be true, but she looked forward to seeing how badly the man wanted it changed. Regardless, being disowned would be impossible to cover up, and no doubt General Ironwood would address the matter personally if asked for comment. Watching the fireworks fly during that interview would be something she'd also anticipate.

"I'd call this a rather successful night." Winter nodded to herself. "Pity it has to end so early."

"The bar's still open." Sienna pointed out, withdrawing her arm- which quite nearly caused her to frown- only to wrap it around the woman's shoulders. "But I think we should go to the tattoo parlor, first."

"Another stripe?"

"No. A swan, for you." She smiled, briefly glancing behind them. "I'd say you've earned it."

She smiled, then, and felt even more pleased with herself than before. It must've clouded her judgment for a moment because she stopped dead in her tracks, slipped a hand to the back of Sienna's neck, and pulled her down into a firm kiss.

In the back of her mind, she panicked, because she'd just grievously overstepped their agreement, but the vast majority of her didn't particularly care in the moment. However, as she pulled away, a blush began to rise in her cheeks that she fervently tried to beat down while looking away.

"I- I apologize. I shouldn't have-"

Fingers grabbed her jaw- gently, but firm enough that she couldn't imagine not complying as they redirected her back to meet those shining golden eyes.

"I agree." Then, Sienna smirked, that same expression she wore when the first met, a look that came to her several times whenever she had an idea she wished to pursue. "You shouldn't have pulled away so quickly."

Twenty minutes later, while people left the party and the police showed up to deal with Adam, Jacques came out to try and dissuade some of his 'friends' from considering withdrawing their support from the SDC. He didn't get very far, of course, seeing as he got sidetracked when he caught sight of them enthusiastically making out, Winter with her back pressed up against the side of the mansion and legs wrapped around Sienna's waist, and it took him screaming until he was almost blue in the face for them to stop.

Rather than bother listening or replying, Sienna just rolled her eyes, gathered Winter up in her arms, and started heading for her bike. A proud soldier she might be but the woman found herself rather enjoying her girlfriend's growing habit of carrying her places.

All in all, the best decision she'd ever made, and Winter casually flipped Jacques off while informing Weiss- who seemed absolutely beside herself with glee as she and her dates prepared to leave for the evening- that she'd be heading out to get a tattoo and that they should meet up for lunch sometime before she left for Mistral.

She never could've guessed that going to a bar with the explicit intention of getting hammered out of fury would turn out so well... but neither was she complaining.

[scribeofmorpheus]

The Just King’s Court Part I (Edmund Pevensie x OC)

A/N: So to celebrate reaching 200+ followers I’m posting the first chapter of my Narnia Fic. It will be a short series, probably less than 8 parts, we’ll see. The next chapters will be flashbacks chronicling the events that lead up to Meriel’s crowning. This series takes place within the Golden Age (1000-1015NT). Meriel and Edmund are both in their 20′s.

N.B: The reason Aslan gives Meriel the ultimatum is to motivate her to stay strong for her people and not lose faith because those who lose faith (or become non-believers in Aslan or Narnia) are unable to be affected by his magic i.e: Susan.

Song: Silhouette by Aquilo

Words: 3323

Warnings: None

OC Meriel of Archenland’s Moodboard:

Narnia, 1015 NT, The Golden Age

In 1015, the four rulers of Narnia embarked on their hunt for the White Stag never to be seen again.

For many a moon, the kingdom mourned the loss of their Kings and Queens. Yet, not all hope was lost, for a single remnant of their prosperous rule remained, the wife of King Edmund the Just: Meriel the fair.

In their desperation to uphold the hard-earned peace that the Pevensie’s had secured -and to honour their legacy- the Narnians appointed her as their Stewardess, to lead them in place of the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve.

However, despite the Stewardesses resolve and conviction, there was little she could do to stop the ever-multiplying threats to Narnia from haling the nation into an age of darkness. An age that would be defined by infighting between the nobles of Narnia, the Tisrocs, the Calormen and finally, the loyal subjects of the original four rulers of Narnia.

The unrest was caused by contended succession to the throne in the light of the collapse of the Pevensie Court. Not much is known about the events that transpired within this chaotic age that lead to the decline of economic stability and social collapse, but one thing is certain: the reign of Princess Meriel the Fair, Stewardess of Narnia, Countess of the Western March and Shield Maiden of the Nobel Order of the Table was a troubled, albeit brief one.

But this here isn’t a tale of her shortcomings. No, this is a tale of how Meriel, a daughter of a blacksmith and apothecary; a woman of no title or nobility; a shieldmaiden of the Narnian army; came to win the heart of the dark-haired Just King. This is the tale of the origin of the Last Stewardess of Narnia.

~ Entry from ‘The History of the Dark Age: The Decline of Narnia.’

The last time Meriel remembered the throne room looking so lavish and elegant as it did was during the coronation ceremony of the four Pevensie rulers.

A newly freed prisoner from the White Witches castle, she had been another faceless spectator in the large crowd. All wide-eyed and full of hope, she had looked on in awe as Aslan himself had gifted the heroes of Narnia the titles of King and Queen.

Staring at the empty thrones now, she could almost picture them: young and bright-eyed; smiles upon their faces; victors of the 100-year war. It had been a joyous occasion.

Her coronation was anything but.

As the newly-greying fawn, Mr Tumnus placed the crown upon her low-hanging head, Meriel had instinctively looked up towards the four empty thrones expecting to see the bright smiles of Lucy and Susan, the prideful gaze of Peter and the loving dark eyes of her husband, Edmund -if she could even still call him that.

In that instant, she felt a dull ache begin to form in her heart when she realised they weren't there and for as long as she would live, they would never sit upon those thrones again.

The crowd had burst into an uproaring cheer and within the cluster of endless faces, she could spot several familiar dignitaries, knights and Narnians, bend the knee as she ascended the steps to take her seat on the furthest throne to the left -the throne of the Just King.

Despite the cheers, she knew not all the spectators had looked at her crowning with the same enthusiasm as some, this worried her slightly.

The Centaurs blew their trumpets clear and sharp as Mr Tumnus waved his white handkerchief in the air, "I give you, your rightful ruler, Princess Meriel the Fair, Stewardess of Narnia." He declared formally.

Meriel smiled and motioned for her subjects to rise. Soon the festivities began and Meriel used the ensuing chaos of all the merriment to sneak away.

***

Meriel sat alone by a window overlooking the sea, letting in light that danced along the walls, creating an opalescent effect in the grand library of Cair Paravel. The heavy curtains had been drawn back allowing the light from the glorious sunset to paint the room in magnificent colours.

The absence of artificial light in the library made the spectacle look magical. It would have been a beautiful setting, if not for the gloomy cloud that hung heavy upon the newly appointed Stewardess’s head. Meriel's reflection taunted her, she had tried hard to be the rock the people of Narnia needed, to be a constant in a wavering sea, but right now, as she looked upon her tear-stained face in all its solemn splendour, all she saw was a broken woman.

In the distance, the sounds of celebration could be heard. Her coronation felt nothing like a joyous occasion, but she knew the people needed a reprieve from the sadness and uncertainty that came with the disappearance of the royals. Meriel, on the other hand, had no strength to pretend. Her heart had been breaking day by day, and now in her solitude, she could finally let it show.

She let out a shriek in sorrow that threatened to rip the very walls apart, tossing her hollow crown to her feet as she slumped in defeat. Burying her face in her hands as the sobs took over her.

She wished she had known back then. Back when she and Ed were younger and possessed by young love. She wished she knew that what they had was finite. That the memories that once brought her comfort in times of uncertainties would turn into ash in her mouth every time she whispered his name.

Meriel wondered if things would have been different had she known her 'Forever and Always' had meant a little under five years. Would she have loved him more fiercely, more desperately if she had known her time with her king was so brief? Or would they have avoided the risk of heartbreak all together and denied themselves the happiness they found in each other?

Meriel didn't have the answers, but her mind kept constructing alternative choices to ponder over. It was maddening.

Feeling trapped, Meriel ran out of the library and began to the stables. She saddled Bastian and rode off in haste, leaving no time to change her garments or pick up her discarded crown from the stone floor of the library.

She didn’t care where or how far her ride with Bastian would take her, all she could think about in that moment was being free of every reminder she had of all the things that left her heart feeling empty and heavy.

***

Meriel disembarked from her trusty steed with grace. Her cloak trailed behind her like a magnificent cape, though it didn't do much to fight off the cold.

Her boots sunk into the deep snow, making it hard to walk normally and her dress began to gather moisture from the snow on its hem, sweeping mud along with it.

Bastian nudged her shoulder with his broad head, his way of telling her to be careful. She brushed her palm against his cheek in reassurance before tying his reigns to a low hanging branch. She needed to clear her head.

Meriel took a moment to look around and orientate herself. She needed to figure out where she was. Lantern Waste, Meriel had been here before, but only in passing -never seeing much reason to stay. It was well known for its mysterious lantern post that stayed forever lit.

She remembered how each of the Pevensie's had talked about it at one time or the other. Peter had talked of how it held a familiarity to it, Edmund always had bitter-sweet memories attached to it -it had been the place he had first encountered Jadis. Susan had mentioned on numerous occasion how the lamppost had been the earliest memory of Narnia she had and Lucy had always talked about how fondly she thought of Lantern Waste because it was the fateful meeting place of her and Mr Tumnus.

Meriel didn't know for certain what drove her here. Once she got onto Bastian and started galloping away from the merry crowds and loud festivities, she hadn't put any thought into where she was running to, only that she needed to get away from anything that reminded her of her loss.

Ironic, that she'd end up at the one place so deeply rooted in that loss.

When the four siblings had raced off to hunt the White Stag, Meriel fought against a deep knot in the pit of her stomach. She had felt unease all morning, so much so that before Edmund departed she made him promise to return to her and kissed him goodbye with more fervour than usual.

At the time she had chalked it up to the residual stress from the aftermath of the Archenland Conflict. When they hadn't arrived when expected of them, Meriel had paced the halls of the grand throne room in the hopes she would exert herself to stop her mind from racing. It wasn't until the horses -Philip included- had been recovered from the borders of Lantern Waste that Meriel's blood turned to ice as though the White Witch herself had placed a curse upon her. Her fears had been realised. On that day, the kings and queens of Narnia, those she called family, had disappeared.

A cold gust of wind blew against her, sending prickling feelings across her face from the cold, subsequently forcing her out of her memories. Meriel looked up at the direction the wind blew from and was surprised to see a dull light flickering in the distance.

Meriel waked towards it until it revealed itself to be the very lamppost the western area was named after. She placed her gloved hand on the cold steel of the post, as though merely touching it would make things right again. It didn't.

She closed her eyes, let out a sigh and whispered a silent prayer that she would awaken tomorrow and all that had happened would be nothing more than a long and distant nightmare.

"This isn't a dream," a majestic, wise voice spoke from behind her. Meriel didn't bother turning to see whom it belonged to, it was unmistakable. It was the voice of the Great Lion, Aslan.

Meriel suddenly remembered an old phrase Peter used to say when fate would deliver them to places of convenience at the 11th hour.

"When Aslan summons, you answer his call, even when the call cannot be heard," she parroted Peter's words and let out a pained laugh, "I should have known you would be waiting for me."

Aslan gave an all-knowing sigh, "It suits you."

Meriel glanced towards him for the first time, confusion apparent on her features. Aslan's eyes gestured to the fine robes and garments she wore for her coronation -those gifted to a queen.

She looked down at her elegant dress, hating everything the sequin red and gold accented attire represented.

"I never wanted to rule," she said in contempt.

"And yet, you wed a King." She knew he meant for it to point out the irony in her argument, but for some reason, she couldn't help feel that his words came off a little condescending.

"A king who ruled beside three others," She said in her defence.

Aslan's eyes held their soft conviction as he looked at her with pity. He had never wanted this for her, he had tried to spare her such pain, but love was something, not even he had the power to stand between.

"But a king nonetheless," He reminded her again.

Meriel opened her mouth to say something to refute his words but her mouth closed after a minute of silence passed and her eyes took on the look of pained recognition.

"A king nonetheless..." she agreed, keeping her eyes downcast.

She began to stifle against the tears that threatened to re-emerge, she had never felt so alone, so aimless.

How was she supposed to lead when all she ever did was follow? She was a warrior first and foremost, not a diplomat. Her battles were waged on bloodied fields, not in royal courts.

She didn't have the demanding presence and charisma of High King Peter; she wasn't as graceful or book smart as Queen Susan the Gentle; she didn't have the quiet resolve and wisdom of King Edmund the Just; she didn't have unwavering faith and kindness as Queen Lucy the Valiant.

She was simply Meriel, the daughter of a blacksmith and apothecary, a low born of Archenland. Even to her own people, she would never be considered of proper standing to be a member of the noble houses, much less a Stewardess of Narnia.

Finally, after many passing moments of silence, Meriel found the will to speak again, "Why… Why did you take him from me?"

Aslan looked behind him, to the retreating sunset being overcome by a dark night sky, Meriel followed his gaze.

"All things have their time, all things must come to an end. It is simply the natural order of things."

"It was too soon. I… We barely got to have our 'forever'."

"There is always a price to pay for our choices," He lectured, "Instead of focusing on all the time you could have spent together, focus on all the good things that came of your time together and let it be your strength."

Meriel let out a shaky breath. Aslan's words, though inspiring, had shown Meriel just how blind she had been. She had only focused on the pain and the loss, she never bothered to think those same memories that haunted her now would one day give her strength.

"I don't know if I can do this, I don't think I'm strong enough," Meriel confessed.

A low chuckle filled the air, "This coming from one of the most respected warriors of Narnia?"

"Battlefields are easier. I had him to guide me, I wasn't plagued by doubts."

"So, your only choice is to give up?" Aslan had a point. Meriel was all the people had, she couldn't stay this heartbroken shell of a woman forever.

"I cannot abandon Narnia. I will not... even if you did." A flash of guilt shone in the Great Lion's eyes, it had disappeared almost as instantly as it had appeared, but Meriel's war nurtured keen senses had noticed his reaction.

She had hurt him. The truth hurts, as they say, and Meriel was tired of playing defence, "They may not know it, but I do-" she pointed to the castle that was lit by fireworks. “You lead them away. You took them from us… from me. I don't know how, but I know that you are the only one that could."

Aslan walked passed her, his large paws leaving deep prints behind them, "Do you know why I summoned you here?" He looked up at the lamp-post.

"I'd be lying if I said I did."

"Do you know what this is?"

"The lamppost marks the border of Narnia, does it not?" Meriel was uncertain as to where this conversation was going.

"That is its simpler purpose, yes. It has another purpose, however. This lamppost marks one of the few openings where the veil is thinnest."

"Veil to what?"

"To where. There are worlds beyond our own. One such world is that of your beloved Edmund."

Meriel's heart stopped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had always known the Pevensie's were not native to Narnia, but she always assumed they crossed the great sea or travelled great distances across an arid desert. Never in her imagination had she thought they came from a separate world altogether.

She placed a hand on her breast for fear her heart had stopped beating, to her surprise it still was. And now she knew for certain her lover was still alive, somewhere, without her.

"He's alive? And Lucy and Susan and Peter?" Meriel's voice came out shaky, she didn't bother hiding the shock from her face.

Aslan didn't seem to pay her much attention and continued on like he hadn't just shaken the very foundation of Meriel's beliefs, "They all are and they may yet return, when they are needed most."

"Are you saying there is a way I can see them again?" Hope filled the cold air around them and for a moment Meriel had completely forgotten the cold biting at her cheeks as they flushed rosy with life again. It was like her youth had been returned to her and her body began to glow with jubilation.

"Yes, but not in the manner you imagine. If you were to be reunited with them now, it would bring you only further misery."

And with his wise, detached words, Meriel felt that same glimmer of hope begin to wane.

"What is worse than living a life, a life you swore to lead with another, alone? Or rule a kingdom without the ones you swore to rule beside?" She almost screamed the words, but her hands began to shake, so did her composure.

Meriel was losing her will.

"Time. If you are united with the Pevensie's now, you will be forced to be apart because of time."

"I do not understand."

"It is a complicated matter."

Meriel laughed a sadistic laugh and ran a rough hand through her raven hair, "Then, did you bring me here to crush whatever small piece of hope I had left. If so, you have succeeded."

Having lost all patience, she began to make her way back to Bastian before Aslan's words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"I am not as cruel as you make me out to be. I brought you here to make you an offer."

Not bothering to turn back, Meriel kept her eyes glued to the horizon, "I am listening."

"If you promise to rule over this kingdom in the absence of the Kings and Queens that came before, wholeheartedly and fairly. If you promise to keep the peace, no matter how fragile it may be, I will unite you with your beloved once more."

"But?"

"But, if you waver or give in to the sadness that resides in your heart, I will be unable to bring you together again."

"How long?" Meriel whispered, "How long would I have to endure this loneliness for?"

"One Year."

"A year?" She breathed out. To most a year was a short span of time, but perception is everything.

Sorrow had a way of making the days last longer and the lonely nights longer still. It had only been two months since the Pevensie's had disappeared and to her, it felt like years.

Her coronation was still in the middle of celebrations but the memory of the woman who was gifted the crown and a new title seemed old, like a tale told to her by her father even though it had happened to her mere hours ago.

Meriel would have to fight tooth and nail to keep her seat on the throne and to keep from drowning in despair for a year. If that was what she needed to do to see him again, then she would fight like the revered warrior she was. She had no choice.

"I accept." Her words were confident and so was her walk back to Bastian, but her heart was left exposed. No armour, no shield. Her heart was indefensible, for now, the only thing that kept it beating was that ever waning glimmer of hope. She prayed it would hold out for one more winter.

One more year.

~End of Part I

~Part II

As Always:  Feedback is appreciated (it’s nice to know what people think), If you liked this chapter give it a like, if you want to be added to the Tag list my ask is always open!

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[relationshipidiot]

King Push v. 6ixGod

OCTOBER 12, 2016

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~H.G.T.V. FREESTYLE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half a year later, still ain't heard an album greater The natives want me out of the office, back on the pavement Jokers at the top know the king is nothin' to play with 9 to 5 money is just as sweet as the grave shift El presidenté, Blowbama, blow by ya Chopper next to me in every picture, Osama Oh mama, they question my starting line up You only find a diamond from diggin' like coal miners Don't listen to 'em, Desiigner The same rappers talkin' next year will be Uber drivers (Fuck 'em) Chanel dad hats, but you don't know that they got 'em Trap door shopper, they rotate the wall So you will never see me as you rotate the mall 330 spin, cook a steak up on this grill Me myself and I, we like a hamster in the wheel Rolls emblem, Black Virginia Pull in a neighborhood I don't blend in Album of the year contender every year The kitchen's full of work, it's blenders everywhere Blended bitches everywhere that do the most They never seen with him so they fuck his ghost Invisible man, timepiece with the invisible hands MJ, remember the time they counted in sand hourglass But mine come with purse and heels And the DIY Gucci with the crest and shields 

TO DRAKE 

It's too far gone when the realest ain't real I walk amongst the clouds so your ceilings ain't real These niggas Call of Duty cause their killings ain't real With a questionable pen so the feelin' ain't real Rap's John Grisham I can paint the picture with the words if you listen (shh) The bar's been lowered, the well's run dry They beefin' over melodies, but no, not I (yugh) See I'm so top 5 If they factor in the truth I just might blow by Blowbama

~~~~~~~~~~~TWO BIRDS W ONE STONE by DRAKE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 29, 2016

More time with family and friends, more life
More time to get it right
It's only me, but I'm seeing four shadows in the light
My demons visit me every night
To the most high, I'm forever indebted
I know I gotta pay somethin', I know that day's comin'
I put it all in the music
Because if I don't say it here, then I won't say nothin'
Could feel my hand getting tired from holding the grudges
Two birds, one stone, my aim is amazin'
I need to start losing my shit on you niggas that's hatin'
Too reserved, like I called ahead for me and my lady
Free C5, how the fuck we got the boss waiting?
Ever since the blue basement, I found God and I lost patience
Between rocks and hard places of all places
Spotted everywhere, like Dalmatian
Cops snoop around now, 'cause all of my dogs famous
Please welcome the October fall baby
Vaughan Road Academy, star player—my mind's not all there
Used to carry a lot of dead weight like a pallbearer
People too scared to tell the truth, so it's all dares
Count it, it's all there, and we all square
Quick money, I'm in and out
My dad used to use a soap bar 'til it's thinnin' out
But, shit, look at Dennis now
All Stacy Adams and linnen'd out
More blessings for Sandy and him, more life
My parents never got it right
But God bless 'em both, I think we all alike
We all wide awake late at night, thinking on what to change
If we do get to do it twice in another life
Scared to go to sleep now
'Cause being awake is what all my dreams were like
Back when the bar that I had set for myself was out of sight
Tell me how I went and did chin-ups
On this shit when I can't see it
Pin-ups of Meagan Good and Pam Grier
Soul sisters inspired my old scriptures
Now that feeling's gone like them old pictures
Mixin' liquor got us both twisted, words get so vicious
You just stare at me while you roll Swishers
Girl, I love you, but I don't miss ya
And no matter what year it is, I'm a 06er
Go figure, cold nigga, stay in school, man
Fuck the rap game, it's all lies and it's all filthy
Two percent of us rich and the rest of these niggas all milk it
Got two of my niggas off with a "not guilty"
Gave back to the city and never said it if I didn't live it
But still they try and tell you I'm not the realest. 
Like I'm some privileged kid
That never sat through a prison visit
Or like it was just handed to me tied with a ribbon. 
I never worked to get it

TO PUSHA


But really it's you with all the drug dealer stories
That's gotta stop, though
You made a couple chops and now you think you Chapo
If you ask me though, you ain't lining the trunk with kilos
You bagging weed watching Pacino with all your niggas
Like, "This what we need to be on," but you never went live
You middle-man in this shit, boy, you was never them guys
I can tell, 'cause I look most of you dead in your eyes
And you'll be tryna sell that story for the rest of your lives
Can't show us where the cash is
Me, I don't judge, I'm just going off what the math is
Numbers inflated
They all look at me, like, "What have you done for me lately?"
"I like your older shit but wasn't in love with the latest."
Aw, baby, stop debatin', I'm just a creative
My numbers out of this world
No wonder they got me feeling so alienated

TO CUDI


You were the man on the moon
Now you just go through your phases
Life of the angry and famous
Rap like I know I'm the greatest
Then give you tropical flavours
Still never been on hiatus
You stay xann'd and perk'd up
So when reality set in, you don't gotta face it
I'm down 200 in Vegas but winning life on a daily basis
It seems like nobody wants to stay in my good graces
I'm like a real estate agent, putting you all in your places
Look what happens soon as you talk to me crazy
Is you crazy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~INFARED~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[on the album]

TO DRAKE

The game's fucked up Niggas beats is bangin’, nigga, ya hooks did it The lyric pennin' equal the Trumps winnin' The bigger question is how the Russians did it It was written like Nas but it came from Quentin At the mercy of a game where the culture’s missing When the CEO's blinded by the glow, it's different Believe in myself and the Coles and Kendricks Let the sock puppets play in their roles and gimmicks, shit Remember Will Smith won the first Grammy? And they ain't even recognize Hov until "Annie" So I don't tap dance for the crackers and sing Mammy 'Cause I'm posed to juggle these flows and nose candy (yugh) Ferrari, my 40th, blew the candles out Tom Brady'ed you niggas, I had to scramble out They be ridin’ these waves, I pulled my sandals out Jefe Latin my Grammy, I went the Spanish route

REFERENCING BACKLASH FOR DISSING BIRDMAN & CASHMONEY

Oh now it’s okay to kill Baby Niggas looked at me crazy like I really killed a baby Salute Ross 'cause the message was pure He see what I see when you see Wayne on tour Flash without the fire Another multi-platinum rapper trapped and can’t retire Niggas get exposed, I see the cracks and I'm the liar? Shit I've been exposed, I took the crack and built the wire

BACK TO DRAKE

Now who do you admire? Your rap songs is all tryin' my patience Them prices ain’t real without inflation I done flew it, I done grew it, been a conduit Moynat bags on my bitches, I done blew it See through it, neck, igloo it Habla en español, I y tu it Let Steven talk streamin' and Shazam numbers I'll ensure you gettin' every gram from us Let's cram numbers, easily The only rapper sold more dope than me was Eazy-E How could you ever right these wrongs When you don't even write your songs? But let us all play along We all know what niggas for real been waitin' on, Push

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~DUPPY FREESTYLE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MAY 25 

{ALL TO PUSHA}

So if you rebuke me for working with someone else on a couple of Vs What do you really think of the nigga that's making your beats? I've done things for him I thought that he never would need Father had to stretch his hands out and get it from me I pop style for 30 hours, then let him repeat Now, you popping up with the jokes, I'm dead, I'm asleep I just left from over by y'all putting pen to the sheets Tired of sitting quiet, and helping my enemies eat Keep getting temperature checks They know that my head overheats Don't know why the fuck you niggas listen to Denim or Steve Must've had your Infrared wrong, now your head on the beam Ya'll are the spitting image of whatever jealousy breeds Don’t push me when I’m in album mode You not even top 5 as far as your label talent goes You send shots, well, I got to challenge those But I bring Calicos to the Alamo I could never have a Virgil in my circle and hold him back 'cause he makes me nervous I wanna see my brothers flourish to their higher purpose You niggas leeches and serpents I think it's good that now the teachers are learning, yeah Your brother said, it was your cousin then him, then you So, you don't rap what you did, you just rap what you knew Don't be ashamed, it's plenty niggas that do what you do There's no malice in your heart, you're an approachable dude Man, you might've sold the college kids for Nikes and Mercedes But, you act like you sold drugs for Escobar in the 80's I had a microphone of yours, but then the signature faded I think that pretty much resembles what's been happening lately Please believe your demise will be televised, yeah And as for Q, man I changed his life a couple times Nigga was at Kroger working double time Ya'll acting like he made the boy when I was trying to help the guy Yeah, who gassed you to play with me? Man, you made this shit easy as ABCs Whoever supposedly making me hits, but then got no hits sound like they need me My hooks did it, my lyrics did it, my spirit did it I'm fearless with it, yeah I really shouldn't have given you none of my time 'Cause you older than the nigga you running behind Look, holla at me when you multi-million I told you keep playing with my name and I'ma let it ring on you Like Virginia Williams I'm too resilient, get out your feelings It's gonna be a cruel summer for you I told Weezy and Baby "I'ma done him for you" Tell 'Ye we got a invoice coming to you Considering that we just sold another 20 for you

[noonewantstotalkaboutpinball]

Terrorwrists vs. NYCFSA

No One Wants to Talk About Competitive Pinball

Quick background: Pinball NYC is a team pinball league now entering its 16th season. Teams of up to ten players compete at their home bars or visit other teams for ten weeks during the regular season. Team play is not sanctioned by the IFPA, and this league is largely about camaraderie and bragging rights.

This is my second season playing in the league. I was recruited to my team, the New York City Flipper Sport Association, by our captain, Eric Asher, and promoted to co-captain this season.

The first matches of the new season for the Monday night Upper Playfield division were contested on 19 February 2018. The Terrorwrists, last season’s champion, came to visit our home bar: Creek & Cave in LIC, Queens.

I was inspired to start this blog by putting together an action report of last night’s match to send to Benjamin Furiga for possible use on his NYC Pinball Podcast, and I’m going to use those comments as a jumping-off point for this post.

My email:

Hey, Benjamin, a report on our match last night. If the minutia of stuck balls is not interesting, please ignore that. The Terrorwrists visited Creek & Cave without their captain, Adam Cane, but their strong players still gave our Flipper Sport Association a run for the money. In one particularly odd moment, I was playing against Mike Pantino on The Walking Dead, and he had his second ball get stopped on the left ramp; apparently there's a flat section hidden behind the back wall, and shaking wouldn't free it. It would stay there through three more balls until it was finally knocked out during a multiball on my third ball. Both the original stopping and the eventual drain of the ball caused loss of turns, so Mike and I were each to play a compensation ball. Before the stuck ball he had put up a good score, finishing at 49 million, but during the stuck ball I was able to pass him, and with his compensation ball he couldn't catch my 87 million. After three rounds, we had clinched at least a tie, and a win in the final round gave us a 10 to 6 victory. Our player of the night was Freddy Asher (Mr. "Always a billion on Game of Thrones"), who won all three of the games he was involved with. Erik Swedlund, NYCFSA co-captain On a personal note, I finally executed the Star Wars strategy we discussed, during the Oskar Blues Brewery Pinball Circuit event at Jackbar on Sunday. Although not to the exact letter, I picked Han, worked through the necessary modes, used a multiball to get my multiplier up to 40x, and hit the Hoth shot for two consecutive video modes, together worth around 600 million of my billion-plus game. I didn't even play the video modes particularly well. That was enough for me to avoid a strike in a group with Steve Bowden, Chris Cafaro, and Dave Peller.

Of the two games I participated in, The Walking Dead against Pantino was the remarkable one. Aside from the stuck ball drama, I want to lay out what was going through my mind.

Before that, though, I want to briefly comment on the novel experience of performing some of the captain’s duties. I consider myself to be in the middle of team in terms of strength of play, though I am always striving to improve. We have team practice once or twice a week. I try to never miss those, and I’m sure this dedication played some part in Eric nominating me co-captain. During those practices, we pay special attention to each player specializing on a particular machine or two, so that we have an expert to call on no matter what might be picked. In the first round, seeing that the Terrorwrists had elected to play on Medieval Madness and Game of Thrones, I consulted with Eric on what players we would put against them. We had a good break with their choice of those two machines, as our best players really shine on them. We won both and captured all four points of the first round.

Sensing a chance to lock up the match early, we hoped to press our advantage by choosing our specialty machines, especially by doubling up on No Good Gophers, a recent addition to our venue and unique in the city. Eric also wanted to see me on The Walking Dead, the machine I specialize on.

Now, and this may be a lack of confidence that I need to work on, I don’t like playing the singles rounds as much as the doubles. I prefer having a teammate with me, to sort of back me up should I fail to score well. I was also dreading playing singles against Pantino. Mike is one of my favorite guys in the NYC pinball community, but he’s also one of the strongest guys on the very strong, defending champion Terrorwrists. My hope was that there was a chance he was on an off streak.

His first ball disproved that theory. I forget the details, but he played a multiball or two along with a mode and put up something like 35 million points. I said to him that it was a very good ball, and he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll have a good ball, too.” Did I mention that Mike is one of my favorite guys in the NYC pinball community? I had been practicing on the machine earlier in the evening and doing very well (I recall a 70 million game), but as always on this brutal game, interspersed with terrible scores. I stepped up determined to play my strategy.

Execute the skill shot. Missing this isn’t actually losing out on the value of the first skill shot, but losing the larger values of later skill shots that you’ll never get to.

After the skill shot, pay attention to the ball entering the bumpers. On this particular machine, dropping through the left top lane will not activate the bumper below it, but dropping through the right top lane will, and it will often bounce straight back up through the lane. Quick flips to change the lit lane can get you a bonus multiplier or two. Bonus isn’t huge on TWD, but when the machine is being mean, every little bit helps.

As the ball exits the bumpers, try a little shake to fend off a SDTM drain.

Get a hit on the drops (to progress towards modes and Blood Bath multiball) and on the prison (to progress towards Prison multiball) while the ball save is active.

Hit the prison again to begin Clear the Yard and light shots for progress towards Prison multiball.

Now would be a great time to complete the first set of drops to light modes. Super dangerous, but key to finding points. A bunch of games, taking this shot drains my ball with the modes sadly lit. In another bunch of games, I recover from this shot but brick on my mode select shot and again drain, taunted by the lit mode inserts.

Two of the modes are particularly good at this point, because they involve all the shots on the game, which you also want for Clear the Yard: CDC and Tunnel. CDC is on the easier to hit and safer left ramp, and it can lead to a huge score. Tunnel is on the tough orbit through the pops; it scores nicely but is also pretty good in multiball. So, try to start CDC.

Play CDC: loop the left ramp as long as you can, then start hitting all the other shots. Watch for multi-kills starting. Avoid using the inlane multiplier until you’re ready to finish CDC by hitting the left ramp two more times (then use the multiplier on the second ramp shot). You can hit the drops to extend mode time, but I’m usually not able to pay enough attention to this.

Should be pretty close to Prison multiball at this point. Bash the prison to start it.

In Prison, alternate between the major shots and the prison for jackpots. Go nuts while ballsaver is active, then trap up and try to clear some more drops (for a different supply than before) to progress towards Blood Bath and another mode.

I played my strategy. I had a good ball, like Mike said I would. Instead of draining out around step 3 or 4, I got to step 10 and about 28 million points. I felt pretty good about that, though I would have liked to have played CDC better.

Then came the stuck ball described above. Mike had added to his score a little, getting to around 45 million. I don’t remember anything particularly good about my second ball, and I don’t remember adding any significant score. On his third ball, Mike again added just a little bit and wound up with 49 million (and the prospect of a compensation ball should he need it).

Stepping up to my third ball, I studied the board and the instant info to see what I could do. I had only collected one supply on the drops, so Blood Bath was a long way off. Well Walker multiball was a bit closer at five hits. I went for the Well Walker, choosing the safer backhand of the bash toy from the right flipper. During the bouncing around I also completed the drops and lit my modes, so just as the multiball started I took a swing at the Riot shot--and hit it! I celebrated this nice stack with a fist-pump and a “Yes!”. I made an attempt at getting to Blood Bath but couldn’t. Instead, I was feeding balls to the pops through the Riot shot, bashing the Well Walker for jackpots, and then a stray shot to the left ramp started (my second?) Bicycle Girl AND freed the stuck ball . . .

Which I didn’t even notice until the multiball ended and I was attempting to trap up and think about what to do next. Instead of catching the last ball, however, my flippers went dead and bonus started counting up. That stuck ball had entered the trough, and the machine thought I had drained all my balls. Now I was due a compensation ball, also.

First I had to plunge off the extra ball I had earned--only I discovered two balls in the shooter lane. The Walking Dead was definitely a little confused. I still wanted those skill shot points, though, so I considered how best to deal with it. I decided to pound in the shooter rod rather than pull it back, and that turned out to be the right choice. I finished at 87 million.

We power-cycled the machine before starting a new game for the compensation balls. Unfortunately for Mike, he barely got to touch his ball, and scored less than a million, not enough to catch me, and I did not play my compensation ball.

I think there might be more about this evening of pinball that I could write about, but this post is getting a little long in the tooth.

I invite any comments or suggestions!

Signing off, IFPA Player #47714

[igromantic]

Издатель: Rockstar Games

Разработчик: Rockstar Vancouver

Дата выхода: 2006

Платформа: PlayStation 2, Wii, Xbox 360, Microsoft Windows, PlayStation Network

Ru-Перевод: Отсутствует

Описание:

Компьютерная игра в жанре приключенческого боевика с видом от третьего лица и открытым миром, разработанная Rockstar Vancouver и выпущенная Rockstar Games в октябре 2006 года для игровой приставки PlayStation 2.

В 2008 году игра была выпущена для приставок Xbox 360, Wii и персонального компьютера под названием Bully: Scholarship Edition. В данной редакции игры полностью переработана графика – игра была перенесена на другой движок, используются более качественные модели и текстуры. Появились новые сюжетные задания и уроки.

В 2012 году первоначальный вариант 2006 года был переиздан на PlayStation 3 без изменений в серии «Классика PlayStation 2»; в 2016 году была переиздана на PlayStation 4, она также полностью соответствует PS2-версии, за исключением поддержки системы «трофеев» и более высокого разрешения.

В 2016 году как Bully: Anniversary Edition была издана на мобильных устройствах под управлением систем iOS и Android.

Игра рассказывает историю подростка Джимми Хопкинса – заядлого хулигана, поменявшего прежде не одну школу. Новый учебный год для Джимми начинается в школе-интернате с весьма скверной репутацией в небольшом американском городке Булворт.

Скриншоты:

Ролик:

Мнение:

Безнравственный симулятор хулигана просто не мог обойтись без любовной откровенности: мало того, что в игре позволено ухаживать за всеми девушками подряд, включая малолеток и старшек, так их еще можно целовать… ради прибавки к здоровью. И не только девушек к вящему ужасу пуритан. Но и кучу парней, и даже сиамских близнецов. все-таки разработчикам из Rockstar сильно повезло, что их игра слишком страшная снаружи и слишком старая, чтобы поднимать хор обиженных граждан, не довольных подобной безнравственностью

Арт

Руководство

Jimmy’s Relationships

Kissing any character moves Jimmy’s faction standing with that character to 100% permanently, regardless of his standing with the rest of the clique.

None of Jimmy’s potential romantic partners will be exclusively romantic with him, regardless of whether he attempts to be exclusive or not. Even Eunice, who can’t usually get guys interested in her, can sometimes be seen holding hands with Ray.

With Eunice Pound

Jimmy wins Eunice’s heart very early in the school year when he retrieves a stolen box of chocolates for her. From then on, Eunice considers Jimmy her “main squeeze.” Jimmy is somewhat grossed out by her overenthusiastic kissing style, although he’s not above using her affection to his advantage. Eunice is the only girl who will kiss Jimmy regardless of the clothes he is wearing.

With Beatrice Trudeau

Beatrice ends up falling for Jimmy after he retrieves her stolen chemistry notes from Mandy. Beatrice then gets Jimmy to retrieve her diary when it was confiscated by Mr. Hattrick. He doesn’t seem to be interested in a relationship with her, although he does return her affections at times.

With Pinky Gauthier

Jimmy ends up on Pinky’s good side after he clears a line in front of the movie theater for her in Movie Tickets. They go on a date to the carnival, but after that are not referred to as a couple. Pinky can always be heard cheering Jimmy on during his boxing matches, however, and Jimmy can still kiss her afterward.

With Lola Lombardi

After Jimmy beat Johnny Vincent in a bike race and Johnny went to tune his bike up, Lola left him for Jimmy. However, Lola seemingly never really cared for any of the boys she dated, and eventually Jimmy wised up. At the end of Chapter 3 he told Johnny that he could keep her. This would make Lola the only girl that Jimmy dumped in the story. However, Jimmy can still kiss her after Chapter 3, if he wishes to do so, as if nothing happened.

With Mandy Wiles

Jimmy earned Mandy’s affections during Chapter 4 after he cleaned up the dirty posters that Earnest had made in the mission Discretion Assured. This relationship lasted until the events of Chapter 5 when Gary turned the school against Jimmy. Lines of dialogue from Mandy indicate that she dumped him because of some things Gary said about him to her. Despite Mandy dumping Jimmy in Chapter 5, she can still be kissed by him.

With Zoe Taylor

Jimmy and Zoe get together while he’s expelled from school. The final cutscene of the game ends with Jimmy and Zoe kissing on the steps of the school. Presumably, they remain together during Chapter 6, though Zoe (like the other girls) is frequently seen kissing other boys, as all the characters in the game are non-exclusive, as stated above.

With other female characters

Upon passing his first Art class, Jimmy can kiss any of the non-clique female students if he presents the appropriate gift (candy for Eunice, flowers for Christy and Angie), and can kiss them at will upon completing Art. Jimmy kisses Angie as part of a tutorial on kissing after passing Art 1, but it is possible for him to go through the entire game without earning Christy’s affections.

Jimmy cannot kiss any of the younger girls, although Melody Adams has an obvious crush on him, and Gloria was originally intended to be an older girl. For a short period after running an errand for Mrs. Lisburn, Jimmy can kiss her, but otherwise he can’t kiss any adult women. When he interacts with Delilah and Jezebel and Courtney the mermaid at the the Carnival, the in-game icon indicates that he can kiss them, but since they’re behind glass he can’t reach her. However, if one uses memory patching in the Wii version (via Ocarina codes) in the game, it is possible to place Jimmy within their vicinity, but no matter how close Jimmy is to them, he still won’t be able to kiss them. If they are placed in free roam, on the other hand, they are kissable. This is caused by the fact that they are rigged to “Medium” skeletons, the same skeleton as female students.

With other male characters

On passing his first Art class, Jimmy can kiss one boy from each clique. He must be on friendly terms (60 faction or higher) with the clique and have flowers in his inventory to give to them. The six kissable boys are Trent Northwick, Gord Vendome, Cornelius Johnson, Vance Medici, Kirby Olsen and Duncan. Jimmy gets the same health bonus for kissing boys that he would have for kissing girls, but even after having passed Art 5, he will still have to present the boys with a gift.

If Zack Owens is added to free roam via hex editing, he can be kissed in some versions. He uses the same leaning and sloppy animation that Eunice Pound does because their skeleton is rigged to “Fat”.

Other Couples

Johnny Vincent & Lola Lombardi

Probably the most well known couple around Bullworth. Johnny calls himself the “King around here”, and Lola his queen. Their relationship has spread a severe amount of gossip around Bullworth and plagued by Lola’s infidelity. Johnny is endlessly willing to take her back it seems, and Lola’s behavior when he goes missing indicates a level of co-dependence on her part. Although, after Johnny found out about her cheating with evidence, he broke up with her. Many of the Greasers believe Johnny would be better off without her and even Mandy has sympathy for the clique leader.

Gord Vendome & Lola Lombardi

Lola is not faithful to Johnny, and engages in an extended affair with Gord. She likes him primarily because, being that he is a Prep, he has a lot of money to spend on her. For his part, Gord finds the idea of dating a girl from a lower social class to be thrilling. After Jimmy gets proof of the affair to Johnny, he and the Greasers set a trap for Gord and beat him up; this apparently puts an end to the affair.

Ted Thompson & Mandy Wiles

Being the captain of the football team and the head cheerleader respectively means that these two are the poster children of couples around Bullworth. However, after the events of Paparazzi it is thought that Ted dumped Mandy. Mandy then fell for Jimmy afterwards. It is then speculated that she ended up as Jimmy’s girlfriend at the start of Chapter 5. Mandy was seen kissing Jimmy in front of Ted and he made no objections.

Derby Harrington & Pinky Gauthier

Seeking to keep up the family tradition of nepotism and inbreeding, Pinky, as Derby’s cousin, was betrothed to him. Both often repeat that “cousins are legal”. But after Derby was over three minutes late to a date, Pinky left him for Jimmy. Although dating Pinky hurt Jimmy’s standing with the Preppies, Derby seemed to be ambivalent to this personally.

Trent Northwick & Kirby Olsen

Trent and Kirby, both of whom are bisexual, were seen waiting in line together to see a movie during the Chapter 2 mission Movie Tickets. When they were spotted by Jimmy, both of them ran away while holding hands. They are not seen together at any other time, and no other male students are seen together in this manner.

Ms. Philips & Mr. Galloway

Ms. Philips mentions to Jimmy that she is “in love” in Chapter 4, but does not say with who. Jimmy initially believes that her feelings are for him, but soon finds out that the actual object of her affections is Mr. Galloway (known to Ms. Philips as Gally-bear). Despite his disappointment, Jimmy aids them in their romance by rescuing Mr. Galloway from the Happy Volts Asylum. They are seen together, cheering for Jimmy, at the end of Chapter 5.

За кого переживать:

Условия романса:

Тип: Геймплейный

Участники: Главные герои и NPC

Влияние игрока: Выбор партнера

Характеристика романса:

Протагонист:

👨

Отношения:

💓

Кто с кем:

⚤⚣

Рейтинги:

9

9.1

Моя Оценка: ★★★★★

Уровень романтики: ❤❤

Bully

[punkcupcakestyles]

Fake Dates

In which everything changes, or something like that. Part 3

(Warning: This is a smutty story. You’ve been warned.)

Previous Fake Dates

In theaters now: A Primrose Tragedy. After leaving it all behind, Carolina, a spoiled brat from New York, takes on a not so orthodox job to make a living: Dating a pop star, who seems to be all kind of troubles. But what happens when her old life finds her new one? Secret agreements, fake feelings, and sex are central to this story, where nothing is quite what it looks like.

That seemed about right, the synopsis to the fucking sad movie that my life was. It wasn't a smash hit, where everyone wanted to know if the main actors were a couple in real life, and famous designers fought over dressing the protagonist to one of the many events she was invited to. No, that would mean my life was memorable and not the fucking disaster it really was. I could even imagine the poor moviegoers, as they left the room, wondering if their hard earned money deserved such a sad destiny. A pretend relationship? Pfft, Julia Roberts had done it better, as well as Jennifer Aniston, Melissa Joan Heart, Sandra Bullock, fuck, even Adam Sandler. A tried trope, with very little twists at the end of it.

“Are you ok, baby?” I heard Zayn say, right before he slammed the door shut. The sound made me jump a little on my seat, and glare at him as I turned around to see the mocking smile that was curling up his lips.

"I am," I whispered, mumbling my words against his lips as he pulled me close to kiss me.

For a second there, I forgot about my parents and the looming sense of doom that was over me since they entered the apartment that morning, and I allowed my mind to get clouded by the sweet mint and the cigarette taste of Zayn's lips, and by the fluttering feeling in my tummy as his fingers snuck under my shirt to press directly to my skin. His breath fanned on my skin, and I brought my hands to his neck to keep him as close as I could, so the kiss could last forever, so I didn't have to think of anything that wasn't him. He seemed to get the idea, cause he pulled me closer, kissing me a little harder and making my breath grow heavier, as my fingers looked for his neck to feel the warmth of his skin under them. When he finally pulled away, with tiny kisses being peppered across my face, my lips were swollen, but I couldn't help but smile at him shyly, and giggle as I tried to hide my face against his shoulder. It was the kiss, and the memory of my confession, and of the fireworks I had felt that morning when he was kissing and touching my body. It was him, and the overwhelming feeling that my heart was soaring as he looked at me.

"Wut?" He asked me. "It's a little late to be shy, baby." He whispered with a smile, as he let his hand slide to mine to intertwine our fingers over my lap. I stared at them, smiling as I let my eyes travel to him and found him already staring at me. "Are you still high?"

"My mom sobered me up," I replied in a soft whisper. And she had, taking away the soft dizziness that had taken over my mind to replace it with a burning pressure and the awful feeling that something was going to go wrong. I felt like I was as trapped as I was when I was back in New York, only this time, I had to add the full-blown panic that was starting to catch up with me. It was just peachy, everything was just fucking peachy. It was as if the ghost of a lie I wasn't sure I had ever had, had come to bite me in the ass. The ghost of New York past: After a night of stupid decisions and unnecessary confessions, Carolina is haunted by the ghost of her life in New York...

I looked out of the window, while my fingers squeezed around his to feel him close. I wasn’t ok, it was pretty obvious, I was nauseous and nervous, and there was a pounding in my head that was threatening to break it into a million pieces, but there was no use in telling him that, or that I was about to throw up at the idea of sitting down with my parents to have brunch.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mom was gonna know, she was gonna figure out everything, from the fact that I was getting paid to date Zayn, which could only mean that he was that bad, to the fact that I was fucking him, which meant that I was a whore. Worse than that, she was going to find out that I had let the butterflies win, and that all I wanted was his warmth and his kisses. I wasn’t even a good slut.

“Are you sure you're ok?” I heard Zayn say in a worried tone, and I looked at him, noticing the rough pattern of my breath as I nodded softly.

He was pretty, oh, so fucking pretty, I felt my tummy flutter as I looked into his caramel eyes, reveling in their sweet glint as they squinted up to look at me better. He was wearing a simple white shirt with a pair of gray sweatpants, and a jean jacket, the only pieces of clothing I had managed to steal over time, and even that was enough to make my poor heart rush around in a race it was not going to win. He was everything at that moment, everything I needed and everything I wanted.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I nodded, as a playful smirk curled up the corner of my lips. “Would be a lot better if we went home and fucked instead.”

But my joke was not well received, or at least not in the way I had hoped for, which was basically Zayn asking the driver to turn around and take us home. Instead, he rolled his eyes and sighed, letting himself fall back onto the backseat and look at me with his big, bright eyes, licking his lips before he said anything else.

“Baby....” He said in a whisper, the raspiness of his voice able to rise little goosebumps on the nape of my neck, and causing an electric shiver to run down my spine until it settled in my tummy, where the butterflies were sent into a frenzy. “Do this for me.”

“Z, please, I’m…” I smiled pathetically, leaning into him as I tried to keep our words between us. Preston was decent enough to pretend he was listening, humming an offbeat song while he looked intently at the road ahead of us. “I know...I'm just, she's gonna know...."

“That you're my girlfriend? I think she knows that already. It's going to be ok." He said, and all I wanted to do was believe him, but I couldn’t do anything against the raging fear that was starting to take over my chest, and the panic that was blocking my every thought, focusing only on the ridiculousness that it was to have any kind of hope. Chances were it was not going to be ok, and we both knew it.

“She’s gonna know, Z,” I repeated. I was probably going to cry, actually, it was a miracle I wasn't crying already, but it no longer mattered, cause all I wanted was to have his arms around me, comforting me and making me believe that everything was indeed going to be ok. “And she’s either gonna kill me, or she’s gonna drag me back to New York to kill me there.”

“All she's gonna know is that I'm crazy about you, ok?And that I'll follow you to New York, so there's no point in taking you there." He smirked, and there it was, a warm feeling in the middle of my belly, slowly taking over my entire body until it buzzed, like it was on fire. "It'll be ok. She's your mom, and you need to hav'a relationship with her, babe."

"You don't get it, Z. Your mom's lovely. Mine is...she's not lovely."

"We'll be fine." He smiled. Oh, but that wasn't true. Out there was the living proof that it wasn’t. There was Claire, who knew everything, and my mom, who would have no sympathy for me once she found out what I had done. And Tom, fuck, Tom, who I had hurt so much because of a lie. It is hard to breathe when the world comes crashing down at your feet. It’s hard to think when you’re a fucking awful person. “Now, let’s go. Your mom’s gonna think I kidnapped you or some shit.”

I hadn't even realized that the car had already stopped and that Preston was waiting for us to leave, so he could have some time to himself. We had parked almost a block away from the restaurant, and as soon as I jumped out of the car with Zayn's hand around mine, I realized why.

It was almost a blink and you miss kind of thing, or at least, I was sure that was what Claire was going for, except that the guy had a huge camera hanging from his neck, and he started to walk right towards us, picking it up to point it at my face. Yeah, no, it wasn't something that I could explain easily, and yes, I was probably going to kill Claire. I might keep the apartment after she was dead, just to show her.

“Fuck,” I muttered, as I tried to hide from the guy by walking behind Zayn. I wasn't any better than I was at the start of it, and honestly, I probably wasn't going to get better at it.

Zayn grunted a bit when the guy got closer, aiming his camera at me to get a better shot, which I continued to block by putting a hand on my face. If I was being honest, I would've had no problem with running the rest of the way to the restaurant, but Zayn's hand around mine kept me from doing so, bringing me close to him instead as he continued to walk as if nothing were happening.

The whole thing made me anxious, the guy, the clicking camera, the sight of my parents as they witnessed the circus that was Zayn’s life. Dear Jesus, my parents. They were waiting by the restaurant, looking a bit bewildered at us as we walked closer to them. My mom's eyes widened as she noticed the guy turning her way, and pointing the camera at them as we joined the group. She squinted and blushed, wrapping her fingers around my dad’s arm to hurry him up to come into the restaurant. I barely looked at the pink walls and granted just a quick look at the wicker chairs that sat outside, with the colorful cushions that were inviting strangers to sit on them.

‘Zayn Malik remembers he has a girlfriend. Brings her out in the sunlight. Her family is just as bad with paps as her.’ What a fucking joke.

I could only breathe again when we were inside, and even then, my breath swirled tightly as I looked around. A couple of heads turned to look at us, and even though they tried their very best to hide it, it was obvious that a group of girls recognized Zayn, and pointed their phones to him in excitement to take a quick shot. I almost snarled at them as we made to the way to our table, but held myself back as Zayn gave me a quick warning look.

I looked around, taking the place in. My mom had chosen it, saying her friend had raved about it, and it became apparent to me why she had. The place was gorgeous, I was gonna give it that, but my tummy churned at the sight of the colorful tablecloths and pillows, with golden figures embroidered. I gulped, looking at Zayn as I heard the loud Indian music that broke in the air.

“We figured you might like this one.” My mom smiled at him. “You’re Indian, right?”

“He’s half Pakistani.” I murmured, and for the first time, I could witness my mom losing her composure, as she stood up awkwardly uptight, and widened her eyes a little bit as she looked around. Perhaps she was trying to figure out if she had offended him, or maybe if there was any difference between one and the other, but at least it seemed like she had made an honest mistake, which made my anger ease.

“This is fine.” Zayn smiled kindly. “This is ok. It looks really nice.”

Our table was by one of the big windows, and I let myself sink into a bright pink pillow and a green and blue one, comfortable enough under my ass as I half sprawled myself on them. Zayn sat right next to me, and he looked around the homey restaurant. The place was mismatched, which made it all that better, its chairs and pillows one in a kind each one of them.

I smiled at him as he leaned to me to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, raising goosebumps on my skin as I felt the warmth of his skin when he placed his large hand on my thigh, an intimate touch that I wanted to believe was meant for me only. I intertwined my fingers with his, and I let him fiddle with them, as his lips continued to brush over the shell of my ear. His presence made my fingertips prickle in need to touch him, and my lips hurt as they craved to kiss him, and I found myself calm and relaxed like nothing bad could ever happen to me. Perhaps this was love and I was right, the safety and the peace that takes over your body when you are with your person, the fire that engulfs your heart when they touch you; the certainty that whatever happens, everything will be ok, because they're right by your side; the feeling that you are truly awake and living for the first time; the knowledge that they could break your heart into a million pieces, and still you would do it all over again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

“I don’t think your mom knows the difference between Indians and Pakistanis.” He said, shrugging his shoulders a bit as a mocking smile curled up the corner of his lips.

“I know. Pakistanis are cuter.”

“Hey, a lot of this cuteness comes from my mom, so I was just destined to be terribly cute."

“You’re an idiot.” I giggled.

"I made you laugh, don't care what ya say." He shrugged again, giving me a quick kiss that was interrupted by the waiter's arrival.

Car was already eating some of the strawberries they had set on the table, and my mom was leaning to my dad to say something to his ear, while her hand went to his over the table. I was reminded of all the times I felt jealousy over their relationship, their complicity, and sweetness for each other. There was no doubt in my mind they loved each other, their passion dwindling down to allow comfort and serenity to take its place. My mom looked up to my dad, and my dad admired my mom, and even though I had a hard time admitting it, that was all I wanted.

The guy smiled at us as he handed us the menus, pink, large and girly, with embroidered letters that announced the meals. There was a large, fancy “brunch” written on the right side of it, and for the first time, I understood what the munchies were, cause my tummy grumbled out of hunger and my mouth watered as soon as my dad mentioned the cheese naan, and my mom ordered the Gouthambu Dosa, which was somewhat of a crispy pancake made with whole wheat, that she ordered with mango chutney. Finally, my eyes widened in delight when I noticed they offered pina colada pancakes, with coconut ice-cream and caramelized pineapple. It was a fuckload of sugar, and that was all I wanted. Could they add some bacon to it? Oh, yeah, there was a tamarind and maple glazed bacon. I wanted that too, please.

"I want pancakes," I said, closing my menu with the satisfaction that knowing you're about to eat until you die often brings.

"Coco," My mom smiled, her eyes rising from her menu to look at me the same way she always did before dropping just a little bit of venom. "Sweetie, are you sure? That’s a bit heavy. It's starting to show how badly you're eating."

And as easy as that, there it was, the knot pressing to my throat as she finished her words. The criticism that was bound to happen every time she was near. If it wasn’t my food, it was my clothes, my hair, or my demeanors, and I suddenly felt like I was 15 and my mom had just stopped me from eating fries in front of my friends, cause “it’s greasy and it shows, honey, you don’t want that”.  I took a deep breath and sighed, leaning to Zayn to grab his hand under the table.

"What do you want?" I whispered, and I couldn’t help but smile as I felt the soft pressure of his lips against my temples.

"Pancakes and bacon." He said.

"You can't eat bacon!"

"I don't really like pancakes either." He whispered in response, as he let a smirk grow on his lips. "You'll help me with it, right?"

"I'll make an effort." I smiled, scrunching my nose in sheer endearment at him.

I, as hungry as I was, ordered a plate of fruit with a strawberry lassi. What a great time to be fucking hungover and high.

“So” my dad interrupted the whispers around the table, calling for our attention as soon as the waiter walked away after taking our order. I held my breath, as he offered me a soothing smile that I had seen him use a lot of times before, usually when he was about to close a deal, and he had gotten the better end of it. “It's so good to see you, princess."

"It's great to see you too, dad."

"Are you happy? He asked, and I could have sworn his smile had just turned a little sad, the corner of his lips dropping for a second before he composed himself. It tugged my heart, and I rushed to take his hand in mine and give it a light squeeze. Right then, I wished it was only the two of us, like it was whenever my mom and I fought me and he would sneak into my room to bring me ice cream. We would seat by the window bay, or he would watch Gossip Girl with me, insisting that Gossip Girl was indeed Dorota. Oh, if only.

"I am."

"Happier than when you were in New York?"

"It's a different kind of happiness, Dad."

"We miss you." He said, and this time, it was easy to see the sadness in his eyes, easy enough for me to wonder why I was such a shitty person.

"I miss you."

"Are you ready to forgive us and come back home?"

He made it sound like such a simple question, it was almost embarrassing to admit I hadn’t thought about it yet. I looked around the table, to a bewildered Car as she tried to hide the awkwardness she was feeling by picking on the strawberry she was holding, and Tom, who was looking down at the table as he tried to remain silent in a discussion that did not involve him. Claire widened her eyes and looked at Zayn as he sat up straight, suddenly interested in our conversation.

“We’ve bought you an apartment.” My mom smiled. “It has lots of sunlight, so you can paint, and it’s already furnished; we’ve hired the best interior designer in New York for it. It even has a wonderful view to Central Park, right in the middle of the Upper West Side. We’ve called school and they’re willing to take you back, and you can paint in your free time. The floor will wash off all of the spilled paint, and there’s this beautiful wall that you can reuse easily for new…works.” She said, her smile growing bigger as she tried to sell her brand new gift.  She was as good as my dad, if not better. “You’ll have your freedom, Carolina. I think it's time to come back.”

“We’ve also bought you a new BMW. It’s blue, not too jazzy…” My dad intervened, adding to my mom’s description so they wouldn’t leave behind such an important detail.

“Dad…” I started to say, but really what was there to say?

“And I know how you feel about driving, but we can easily find you a driver if that’s what you want. Just, come back home, it’s been long enough.”

But I was home, that was the problem. I was home, and it had no longer anything to do with New York. Even when being away from my parents sometimes felt like a heavy weight to carry,  it was nothing compared to the huge nothingness that invaded me every time I thought about leaving Zayn behind. Even when I knew it was coming, something that was bound to happen when he got bored and moved on, the thought alone was enough to set a black hole in my chest that threatened to swallow it all.

“Dad, I’m fine,” I said. "I can finish school here, and I'm living with Claire, it's ok, I'm fine."

“What do you do for a living, Carolina?" He said, dropping a little bit of the sweetness he had going on so far, and giving me a stern look. "If you’re not taking our money, how are you paying for anything?”

“I have a job,” I said, stammering a bit as the next words formed in my tongue. “I…work for Claire.”

Claire widened her eyes and coughed out a little of the lassi she was drinking, with it spilling down her chin as she hurried to grab her napkin to clean it up.

“She does, she works as a model for the agency.” She said hurriedly before she could mess up the lie she had had to practice many times before. "We...pay her per event."

“That can’t be enough.”

“We pay rather well.” She smiled. “And Zayn helps. None of them is going to admit it, but Zayn helps.” Claire said, satisfied with herself and smiling widely as my parents turned their attention away from her and to both of us. Zayn offered a twisted smile to Claire, to let her know he was going to get her for it, and looked at my parents as he leaned back to his seat.

"You help?" My mom asked, almost in surprise.

"I stay at Zayn's," I said. "When he's home from tour. And uh, he, uh...we..." I had no idea what to say, and the words were getting jumbled in my brain, where they stumbled and fell into a pile, leaving me stammering in front of my parents and about to get caught in the lie.

"I help." He said simply and despite the casual tone of his voice, there was more than a hint of challenge in it, that was only matched by the intensity of his eyes. He was looking at my dad in a daring way, a way that very few people seemed able to do. I was not one of them, cause every time I did, every time I tried to stand my ground and look him right in the eyes so he would know I was someone to reckon with, the fear that I was going to be set on fire by the intensity of his gaze beat me out.

“Carolina is really high maintenance.” My dad smiled. "She likes to think she isn't, but truth is, she can be demanding, It's my fault, I spoilt her, I'll admit that, but I could afford it, not a chance many have."

“I can afford it, don't worry 'bout it,” Zayn said, his grin turning a bit sour as he looked at my dad. I don't think I could breathe anymore, looking from one man to the other while I wondered when someone was going to tell me it was just a fucking joke. Surprise! Nah, God is not this mean, we were just fucking with ya!!

“She’s my daughter...” My dad whispered, smiling at Zayn like you do to a child that’s too stubborn to understand. “And it's time for her to come back home and stop wasting her time doing things to piss off her parents, being with people just because she knows we wouldn't approve. It's time for her to take her future seriously and stop playing"

He said that, with a mean smile on his face as he looked at Zayn, and even though it shouldn't have surprised me, that my dad thought I was just throwing a tantrum, it fucking hurt.

Zayn was right, he didn't get it. At this point, I didn't get it either.

"I'm not going back to New York, dad, but thank you for the offer." I smiled too tightly, as my fingers gripped the napkin between them, so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Why is this...dream of yours so important that you'd throw your future away?" My dad asked me, and for the first time, he seemed worried, like a real person, flesh and bones and a beating heart. It made me gulp, while the tears all came running to my eyes, ready to spill down.

"Dad...I know it doesn't seem important to you, I know you think I'm just being a brat, but I'm not. I don't want your life, I want my own, one where the only important thing is not money."

"Carolina..."

"And I know you did it out of love, whatever you think that is, but I'm not throwing away my life, I'm giving it a chance. I'm giving myself a chance, and I'd like it very much if you could support that." I said, in one big breath that left my lungs burning and my mouth dry. "But if you can't, just know I'm ok with it. I'll keep going, I'm not scared of that."

"Carolina..."

"And I don't care if you don't approve of my choices, of the people I love. I never have. And, I'm sorry, but I need to go to the bathroom," I said, standing up with as much dignity as I could, while some people stared at us. I walked by the snickering girls and offered them a tight smile, which I guessed was what I was supposed to do, and rushed to the bathroom to hide in it. It was some sort of hall, with two doors at the end of it and a marble counter in the middle. There were soap and a sink on it, and pink and lavender flowers in a white case. I leaned against it, taking a big breath as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide and sparkly, the kind of glint you have right before having a good cry session. I wiped them dry, rubbing my fingers on them, which only made them look swollen.

"Babe?" The knock on the door was so light, I almost missed it, only turning around when I heard his voice, and saw him enter the room. "Are you ok?"

"I fucked up, what a fucking surprise. Can we go home now?"

"It wasn't that bad," Zayn whispered with a smile on his lips, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned back to look at me. "It could've gone worse."

"I could have cried in front of them," I said, rolling my eyes at him as I saw him walk to me.

"Or they could've realized you were high out of your mind." He joked, earning a little giggle from me.

My fingers pressed to the counter, as I leaned back to it and looked at him. The dim light wasn't enough to hide the little spark in his eyes, or the sweetness of his smile as he took the few steps between us, to stand in front of me. The warmth of his body engulfed me as soon as he did, and I fluttered my eyes dreamily, tilting my head to his touch as he went to kiss me. His nose brushed over mine and I felt the ghost of his lips as he whispered the soothing words he knew by heart now.

The moment was perfect, even if we were in a bathroom in a public place. He was close, his tummy and chest pressed to mine as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and his fingers traveling down the curves of my body as his lips pressed sweet kisses to mine, shutting the stupid ruckus in my head down. I even allowed him to sneak his fingers under my dress, and to burn my skin as he trailed them up slowly until they were digging on the round curve of my ass, and then, on the meaty roundness of my hips, a gentle reminder that my mom was indeed right about my eating habits. I smiled at him for a second before I stood on my tiptoes, leaning forward to kiss him softly, but his lips trapped mine, molding perfectly as if they were meant to be, and his tongue explored my mouth like it was the very first time and he was eager to know every secret of my kiss. I barely even noticed when I was being hoisted up to the counter, so I was able to wrap my legs around him and pull him closer, while our breathing synced to one another, and our chests heaved by need and hunger. It was easy to forget everything, even that I was the only one fooling myself in the room. That he didn't love me back, and that probably never will.

Maybe I didn't deserve love, and I needed to live with that.

"Please," I whispered against his lips, as he was pulling away from me, breaking the kiss to look at me. His lips were red kissed, swollen and glistening, and his teeth sank onto the bottom one as he smiled softly at me.

"When we're home, baby." He said. "I'm all for fucking you whenever I can, but I don't think getting caught would earn me any points with your mom."

"They won't notice, they never do." I breathed back, twisting my fingers on the fabric of his flimsy shirt as I got him closer to me.

"I bet they will." He said calmly. "When we're home, I promise."

"Where is that?" I asked him, letting the words escape my lips before I had any chance to catch them back. My heart picked up its pace, knowing it was already too late to regret a thing, like it usually was. "Our home. You keep saying it, and I...I don't know where that is."

He looked at me for a second, a smile curling up on his lips slowly as his fingers burned on my neck, and his thumb running soft circles right above my jaw.

"It's wherever you are, Coco." He smiled. "Here, in New York, in the fucking moon, I don't give a fuck."

He said with such conviction, I almost believed him, almost allow my heart to flutter in its place in an enamored dance, and my fingers set the whole place on fire, as electricity prickled out of them. But it wasn't, he would've told me, he would've let me know. And he didn't.

"Don't say things like that, or I'll believe it, Malik." I smiled.

"It's true."

"It's not," I said, biting my bottom lip for a second, to stop the rest of the words from pouring out, and I jumped down the sink, walking away from him as he looked at me. "I know it's not."

"Coco..."

"I've said things that I shouldn't have, and I don't want you to think you should say them back. I...I know you're here cause you're actually a decent guy, and I...I like that very much about you, that you're sweet to me, but I know this is my drama...and I shouldn't involve you, or make you feel pressured to tell me sweet things."

"What are you talking about?" He said, confusing reigning over his face as he frowned at me. "How did we go from kissing to this?"

"I...I just want you to know that is ok." I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest when I noticed that I was trembling. "I am ok. Like I said to my dad, I can handle it, it won't kill me, I swear." I smiled at him. "If you don't love me...you don't need to pretend you do. Thanks for having my back, but, this is not fair to me, to let me think that we have a chance."

"That's not..."

The door interrupted whatever he was going to say, and we both turned to look at the red faced girl that was looking at us in bewilderment. She looked at Zayn with wide eyes and then at me, smiling awkwardly as she closed the door with a loud bang.

Had she heard something? Did she know?

I looked at Zayn, who was just as stunned as I was, maybe wondering how much she had heard, and before he could say anything, I went behind her, rushing out of the bathroom to follow her to the restaurant. What was I going to say? I had no idea, my brain hadn't gotten to that part, but when I saw her, going to sit on the table with the bunch of girls I had seen before, I had half the mind to go after her and pull her back, feeling like crying when she showed her phone to one of her friends. I was going to do exactly that, when I felt someone pulling me back, making me topple as they walked us to the door.

"Zayn!"

"I know." He said, in a low growl. "C'mon, let's go."

"Z, I think she heard."

"That I don't love you? Apparently, everyone knows."

His words were like a jab to my chest, one that I couldn't process enough, as he was pretty much dragging me to the car. It was such a funny thing to see that the pap, who was still leaning against the same tree, smoking a cigarette, took a couple of snaps of us,  even as Zayn growled at him and gave him the finger.

"What the fuck are we doing?" I said, climbing into the car right before he slammed the door closed.

"I have no fucking idea! We need to get out of there!"

"Jesus, my parents, Z!"

"What 'bout them? They already hate me, and they don't like you very much, so what the fuck?" He shrugged off like it was nothing, and we just hadn't left my parents waiting for us in an Indian restaurant in the middle of London, with my ex, and my secret boss, and a group of girl that may or may not know the truth, all in one place.

My heart was racing, like I had just done something incredibly stupid and had gotten away with it.

But I hadn't. Oh, it was just starting.

I kept looking back during the ride and gripping on the hem of my dress, so hard that my knuckles turned white. Zayn was furiously typing on his phone, barely paying any attention to me as he continued to grumbled out curses and half pronounced words that I kept missing.

Meanwhile, I was having a heart attack.

@ Car

Sorry, had to leave.

Would you please excuse me?

From: Car

Are you fucking kidding me?

I left my phone lying upside down on the seat, so I didn't have to read the tirade of curses that Car was probably typing at the moment and took a deep breath, looking at Zayn as he continued to focus all of his attention on his phone. He seemed so tense, so worried and angry, that I couldn't help but rub on his neck, drawing circles on the skin that was exposed and make my way slowly between his shoulders.

"It's ok." I smiled when he turned around to look at me.

"You don't get it." He shook his head. "Simon's gonna kill me...I've caused enough trouble."

"I know." I nodded. "But it's ok. I'm your girlfriend, who's to say I'm not? I'm here for you, Zayn."

He nodded, even though he didn't seem like he believed me at all, and he leaned into me, lying his head on my lap so I could play with his hair while we rode in silence. We had no idea what had happened, if the girl had actually heard anything, or if it was going to blow in our face and kick out asses, but what was the point in panicking? We had all of our lives to regret our mistakes.

****

Zayn didn't seem able to let it go. I could see him leaning against a wall as he talked on the phone, the annoyance of his face dimming the beauty of his features a little, only to enhance them as a mean glare took over his eyes.

"I don't fucking care!" I heard him yell, making me jump a little in my seat as I tried to remain calm and keep the panic attack that kept jabbing me in my ribs at bay. I could almost feel it, sitting right next to me and waiting until I gave it a chance to take over me. I took deep breaths, trying to chase away the tight feeling in my chest, and the lightheadedness that was making me nauseous, while my fingernails continued to scrape over my skin, digging into it until it was red and swollen, with tiny beads of red coming from the parts I had broken. I sighed and wiped it off quickly with my dress, before jumping to my feet to smile at Zayn's mom as she entered the room.

"Z told me you didn't get a chance to have breakfast." She smiled kindly at me, with her hands rubbing on the pink floral apron she was wearing. It reached to her knees, which made her look even smaller, and I found that terribly cute. "C'me, I've made you food, you're both so skinny you can't skip a meal."

I wasn't skinny like my mom had so kindly reminded me, but I liked that she said that, loved her for it actually.

"I...thank you, I would love that." I smiled, giving in to her kindness as I followed her to the kitchen, where the smell of eggs and batter was filling the air

"Zayn also said you wanted pancakes." She said shyly. "So I've tried my best at an American breakfast."

I smiled at her as I took my seat on the high chair, and gulped at the thought of food. I had a knot in my throat and was absolutely sure that nothing could go through it, Every bit of my body was numb, feeling lifeless and tired, but I made an effort, to engage in the conversation that Trisha was trying to start. She asked me about my parents, and about the pretty dress I was wearing. I asked her about pancakes, and her recipes for muffins, while my chest burned tightly and my eyes pricked with unwanted tears.

Funny thing, I had been there, in that kitchen, about to cry my eyes off in front of her before, and it didn't seem to get any easier.

I wanted Zayn.

It seemed like he had heard me, cause soon he was entering the kitchen, smiling at his mom as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He mumbled a few words to her, and she smiled fondly at her boy while she patted her back.

"Want pancakes?" She asked.

"Yeah...would you mind if we go upstairs for a second?" He replied, already taking my hand in his to help me down the stool. "We need to talk about...a surprise party we're throwing for Harry."

"Oh, no, go, go, I'll leave you some in the oven."

He guided me to his room, closing the room behind him carefully so it barely made a sound after it. He seemed distressed and I was lost, not knowing what I should do or shouldn't do.

"Z, I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have brought you to the restaurant with me."

"It's not your fault, baby." He said. "It's not about the girl either."

"Then what is it about?"

"Things..." He shrugged off. "Every-fucking-thing..."

The few steps between us seemed like miles, and I walked them slowly until I was standing in front of him. My hands were to his neck, pressing softly to it as I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly. The touch was enough to butterflies in my tummy, that flew dizzily in a silly dance.

"Let me distract you, yeah?" I whispered. "I know a thing or two that might work."

"Distract me." He said with half a smile.

His fingers were just as delicate as they pressed to my hips, pulling me closer before I could break the kiss apart. And he kissed me, a lot rougher and a lot hungrier than I had before, with his tongue parting my lips explore my mouth, and his heavy sigh dying on my lips as hugged me tightly, as if I needed convincing that this was what we both craved right now.

When he pushed me to the bed, I let him, shifting on it until he was able to follow me to it, and hover over me, with his necklace hanging from his neck as he looked intently at me. I smiled, hoisting myself up on my elbows to break the distance between us, and kiss him once again, the taste of his lips invading every one of my senses, and flooding through my body until it was a part of me.

He let himself fall slowly, one of his hands going to my waist to dig his fingers into it, as my own went to his neck and his back, scraping my nails on his skin as my legs wrapped around his waist tight. He broke the kiss apart only halfway, enough to look at me as his fingers swept across my forehead, to push a couple of loose hairs behind my ear, and then he kissed me, even harder this time, with his teeth sinking into my bottom lip to pull on it.

"Fuck." I murmured, but the word died on his lips, as he deepened the touch.

A little grunt left his lips when my hands reached the waistband of his joggers, and I snuck my hand under it to scrap my nails on the curve of his ass, while the other one fumbled to pull down his pants. I was about to succeed when he pulled my hands back hastily, pinning them to the bed as he looked at me with his now dark eyes.

"Stay still." He commanded, making me smile as I looked at him.

"I was thinking about doing something for ya." I giggled.

"I want this." He said, raising his hands to look at me, while his hands found their way between my legs, and he lied it flat on my crotch to rub it lightly. "Do you want it?"

"Yes, yes, please."

It started with kisses down my neck, heavy ones that left marks behind, as he sucked and nipped on my skin, and every touch caused an electric shiver to run down my body, only to pool on the lower part of my tummy, like a tense knot that was about to explode. I arched my back as he reached my collarbones, and he let his tongue lap on the hollow part of my throat. A sigh escaped my lips as he continued his way down, pushing down the neckline of my dress to kiss on the valley of my chest. His hands, that felt warm and soft on my skin, ran up my thighs, to push up the fabric of my dress so he could trail his hands up my tummy.

I sat up, giggling when he almost stumbled down on the bed, and I fumbled with my dress to take it off. When I did, and he helped me throw it to the floor, I went back to lie down, looking at him as his fingers hooked on the cup of my bra, pulling it apart to kiss on the top swell of my chest. He kissed slowly, tracing the curve of it until he was able to wrap his lips around my nipple and lick it softly. I shivered, moaning lowly as he grazed his teeth on the soft skin of it.

"Fuck." I moaned, letting my fingers knot on the covers under me.

He dug his fingers on the curve of my tit, offering it to himself as he continued to lap his tongue over the little bud, and his hand traveled down between my legs to sneak under my panties. I sucked in a big breath, as he slid his finger between my folds to let it slide down to my entrance, where it was wet enough for him to tease it lightly. Just as slowly, he let his thumb graze over my clit, brushing it lightly as his finger slid inside of me.

I felt the cold air rushing over my chest when he pulled away and went to kiss my neck, right over the pulsing point, where he sank his teeth to suck on it.

"Fuck, kiss me." I pleaded, or at least, I intend to do so, cause it sounded more like an order, which didn't go missing for Zayn who looked at me with a funny expression.

"I'm the one in charge here, babe." He smiled, but still, his lips pressed to mine in a heavy kiss, almost at the same time he pushed one more finger inside of me, almost knuckle deep. I laughed, rolling my eyes deeply as I felt them press to the spongy wall, rubbing on it as his kiss grew heavier.

His body moved in sync with me, rocking his hips as I moved mine with every thrust and every rub. I moaned, the sounds dying on his lips before he put a hand on my mouth to shut me up. I could feel him growing heavier, against my hips, just as I grew desperate to touch him.

"Fuck..." I whispered when he pulled away, feeling the quivers of my tummy as he kissed heavily on my neck and my collarbones, and his fingers continued to thrust inside of me, slowing down his movements whenever he would feel me clenching around him. "Let me touch you, please."

"When you come." He smiled, the sweetness of his smell swirling on my face as he went to kiss me once more. This time when he pulled away, he did so to continue kissing down my chest, pressing soft kisses as he reached to my tummy, and I giggled at the feeling of his wet lips as goose bumps covered my skin. I shifted a bit back as he pulled his hand away, and he went to take my knickers off. A mischievous smile printed on his lips as he pulled them off, letting them fall right next to my dress on the floor. His arms hooked around my legs, pulling me down as he settled between them, and he started to press butterfly kisses down my thighs until he reached my knees and went up again.

I bit my bottom lip as I looked at him, getting closer and closer to my center, as my breathing grew heavier in anticipation. When he kissed the top of my thigh, I almost shivered, fumbling once again with the covers under me.

"Good, that feels good." I laughed.

"I haven't done anything."

"I fucking know." I smiled, throwing my head back when he hovered over me one more time, to kiss me on the lips and make me lie down on the bed again. My fingers went to his waist and I smiled as my fingers hooked on the hem of his shirt, pulling it off to let it join my clothes on the floor. Next, it was his jeans, that I took off blindly as I responded to his kiss. He kicked them off, pushing his boxers off until he was naked on top of me.

I wrapped my hand around his cock softly, stroking it as he shifted between my legs, looking at me as if it was the only thing he could think about, the only thing he could focus on. He was growing bigger in my hand, heavier and thicker as I pressed my thumb to his tip, only to let it slid down his length and trace the veins on it. With my back arched as he kissed on my neck, I guided him in, breathing in sharply as I felt the light burn of his cock as it went in.

He moved slowly at first, still focused on kissing on the valley of my chest, and the round curves of my boobs. His tongue lapped on my skin, tasting the saltiness of it as he made his way up to my lips. When he kissed me, he did it with such intensity he left me dizzy, and my lips hurt a bit from how swollen they were.

My fingers went to his back, where I dug my nails as he went a little faster with his thrust. I was already dizzy, feeling my head clouded as the lack of air burn my lungs, and I could feel his cock going almost all the way out at a slow pace, to go a little rougher in his thrust in. I was so wet, it was easy for him to do it, fuck me however he liked, whatever speed he wanted.

"Fuck." He moaned lowly when I hooked my legs below his ass and brought him closer to me until he was barely able to rock his hips against mine. I felt him deeper than ever, hitting all the right spots in a delightful rubbing movement.

"God, I fucking love this, Z." I moaned. "Fuck, I love you."

I know he heard me, even if the words had slipped my mouth in the heat of the moment, cause he looked at me, breathing through his mouth as his forehead pressed to mine, while he continued to rock his hips to thrust into me.

"Say it again, you didn't let me enjoy it the first time." He breathed heavily, smiling sweetly at me as I giggled out.

"I love you."

"I thought we didn't have a chance."

"We don't." I smiled.

He didn't reply to it, just offered me half a smile as his fingers went to press to my clit, and he looked at me as he started to rub on it lightly, at the same time started to thrust in faster.

"Fuck." I moaned, at the quivering of my tummy and the shivers that ran down my legs as his fingers moved just a tad quicker, over the swollen bud of my clit, the sensitive area feeling electrified at the touch. "Fuck."

"Are you gonna come for me?" He asked, and I nodded breathlessly, closing my eyes as my mouth went agape, trying to say words that kept refusing to form.

"That feels so good..." I finally said. "God, I wanna suck you off...can you come in my mouth?"

"I really wanna come inside of you, baby." He said. "How about in round two?"

"Yes, please."

It wasn't long before I was coming, shaking under Zayn as I felt the bliss burst inside my body and left me limp and tired out of pleasure. I was sensitive, so sensitive, the cold air of the morning kept making me shiver whenever it would reach my chest, or when any of us would brush on the sore marks Zayn had left with his lips on my neck and my chest. But the worst part was my clit, cause whenever he would brush over it, it would send an electrified current up to my tummy, making me flinch and shake in pleasure.

"Are you ok?" He asked me, his lips brushing over mine as I tried to catch my breath. I nodded, earning a smile from him as he went to sit on his knees in front of me, looking down at me as I was dessert and he wasn't still quite done with me. "Get on your knees."

Oh, neither of us was done just yet.

****

I had no idea what time it was, or how long I had slept, but my mouth was pasty and my eyes were swollen when I tried to open them. If it wasn’t for the loud buzzing of my phone, I might have continued sleeping, tired and sore in parts I didn’t even remember having. There was an aching on my hips, probably from a bad position, and I felt my legs slightly wobbly, added to the light soreness between my legs.

To fish my phone in the mess of the covers was a task, it took me around 10 minutes, and it completely woke me up as I got on my knees to start patting on every inch of the bed. I finally found it, hidden under a knot of sheets, and I pressed my finger to the home button as I squeezed my eyes shut to cover them from the brightness of the screen. It didn't do much, cause when I finally opened them, I was still seeing colors in the air.

I frowned as I looked at Tom's text, trying to wrap my head around the words that kept jumping in my mind as I read them.

From: Tom

Really? Is this the guy you're leaving everything behind for?

He had attached a link, that didn't any more sense when I read it, even though I did over and over again, just like the photo it had come with it: Him, holding a girl I had come to realize it was his ex, by her waist, while she leaned into him to kiss him.

'Oh, No, Zayn! That is not your girlfriend!"

What is Zayn Malik up to? One Direction’s bad boy is seen getting out of on-and-off girlfriend's house early in the morning, and getting cozy as they both shared a goodbye kiss. But where is his american sweetheart? Well, rumor has it..."

[taehyugyeom]

bonnie & clyde

mobster! dean au pt 1

 →word count: 3.9k

 →warnings: smut; references to sexual abuse;

 →a/n: i know dean isn’t exactly a kpop idol, but i really love him and his music, he is one of my favourite artists at the moment. me and my friend were both loving the idea of gangsta! dean or mobster! dean and it got my creative juices flowing (soz that’s kinda gross).

pt2 here

“oi, baby, get you’re hot ass over here,” dom calls over to you, “my lap’s feelin’ a little lonely.”

you sighed to yourself and made your way over to him, his harsh hands cuffing onto your waist, like you’d dare escaping such a man.

“my boys were saying how you were having a little chat with the delivery guy yesterday.”

his grip immediately tightened painfully as you look at his lackeys all hanging their heads sheepishly. you got along well with his guys, so the fact that they got you into trouble like this made you feel betrayed.

“baby,” you put on a fake voice to cover up your fear, “it was nothing like that, he was just being polite.”

he gave you a twisted smile, “well maybe he should know next time to stay away from what’s not his.”

his hand clutches onto your wrist instead and he drags you off of his lap and down the corridor to his room. you knew what this meant.

“i’m gonna make sure that everyone in this whole building knows who you belong to.”

dom’s party had just kicked off downstairs in the club, the bass of the music coming up from under your feet.

after what happened earlier with dom and you, you’d rather die than sit on his lap all night like his little pet.

it was a few years ago when you became dom’s ‘pet’ after you courageously stepped in for your ex boyfriend and told dom to take you instead of him. but the minute your ex got out, he had moved on immediately. it was a foolish idea, to think that your boyfriend would save you. but you were so young and naive then. so you were stuck as dom’s and there was no escape. you were trapped and labelled as “his” forever.

you look over to you’re shared bed with dom and see a note with a box laying there.

because you should always look like a princess.

d x

in the box laid a silk dusty rose cami style dress. as beautiful as it was, you didn’t want it. it was just a way to try and win your affection, but there was no real love or kindness intended by it.

but you wore it anyway because if you didn’t, there’d be a repeat of earlier’s events.

in the elastic of your stockings, you slipped your pistol in case things tonight got ugly with any unwanted guests. dom may have been a nasty piece of work, but he would never leave you vulnerable.

your put on a pair of daps with it and a fur coat over the top, you knew it would please dom if you looked “classy”. a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts and dom walked in his signature suit.

“wow baby,” he looked you up and down perversely, “you look fucking hot.”

you tried not to scoff at his words, so instead just kept your face emotionless, looking down at your daps. he grabbed your hips and pulls you out the door with him, down towards the party.

the music was getting louder and louder as you walked down the corridor. the entrance to the club was taunting freedom. as dom opened the door to the club, the guests all roared with whistles and hollers at the big man himself making his big entrance.

“ladies n gents,” he puts on a triumphant smile, “welcome!”

he walked over to where he sat for every event, his guys following closey behind, and pushed you down onto his thigh, your chair for the night.

as the night dragged on, people came over to dom, giving him a firm handshake. of course, everyone knew it was better to be pals with dom, then to make him your enemy. or you we’re fucked. last time someone came to his club looking for a fight, he got one. but it didn’t look so pretty for him afterwards.

but by 11:30, a dark face came to pay dom a visit.

“dom, how’s it been?”

it was the first time you’d ever seen dom looked shocked. his lips parted slightly as his eyes stayed frozen on the figure before the two of you. his face paled in the poorly lit club.

“uh johnny, long time no see, what are you doing at my place?” dom put emphasis on my place, trying to act like he had the upper hand here. the man seemed unphased by dom’s attempt at intimidation. by this point you’d managed to figure out that this johnny guy was not a pleasant surprise for dom.

“baby, why don’t you go have a little dance or something? i’ll catch up with you in a bit, eh?” he gave your butt a quick tap and scooted you away to the dancefloor. this was the first time dom let you out by yourself, and the thought excited you. but clearly something bad was about to happen.

you moved through all the people convulsing to the heavy-bassed music, caught up in the hot, rousing atmosphere. everyone dancing seemed to look so good, so alive on the dance floor. you found yourself joining in, swinging your hips to the beat, your eyes closed and your lips parted as you let yourself go for the first time in years. the dancer’s bodies were so close to yours, this was the most human contact you’d had with anyone except dom in so long.

it was your free spirit that caught his eye tonight. from a corner booth he was sharing with a couple of buddies, his eyes clearly settled on you. he was fascinated by how your hair swung as your head swayed with your hips, how each slight jump you did made your jacket raise, along with your dress, showing your smooth thighs and your hidden weapon. he noticed how you had a small smile on your lips, like this night was the best of your life. he noticed how your soft face looked completely out of place amongst all the mobsters.

you felt the need for a drink after so much dancing, so you made your way over to the bar. he seized this opportunity to go over and talk to you.

“one cranberry juice and vodka please,” you called out to the bartender.

“make that two,” a voice called from the other side.

your turned your head to the voice, and you were dumbstruck at the view facing you.

a lean figure in a pinstripe suit and creepers looks down on you, his hair quiffed up, but his fringe flicking round on his forehead. his hands were in his pockets, and he leaned against the bar with a poised gesture. he had a modest confidence about him, like he wasn’t confident in himself, but he was confident in life in general. like nothing could stop him. his style was slick, and it was enticing.

“i saw you dancing out there,” he pointed to the dancefloor, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone dance like that before.”

your brow creased in confusion, you weren’t sure if you should be offended or not.

“umm thanks?”

“i mean you looked really good out there, you were quite mesmerizing”

you smiled bashfully at his words instead now, “oh, thank you.”

he flashed his teeth at you in an honest smile, eyes creasing at the sides.

“so uh.. you know dom?” he looked at you sheepishly. you gulped at his inquiry, scared at how he might act. you were so close to finally being free, but you still couldn’t escape it.

“i-uh- i work for him,” you look down at your feet.

“work? if that’s what you call it..” he trailed off.

you started getting angry now, what right does he have to judge you? did he think this was something you wanted?

“you think i like the way he touches me? you think i enjoy being treated like someone’s play thing?”

“no no wait that’s not what i meant, look i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you. i just don’t think it’s right for him to get away with treating you how he does. you should never get touched so… cruelly. it makes me sick seeing the way he manhandles you.”

“you really think that? most guys just get jealous that he gets to have  such an obedient little slut.”

you choked on your own words a little, but covered it up with a swig of your drink.

“i think you’re far from a 'little slut’. you seem so much more than that.”

you were shocked. he barely knew you, yet he was disgusted by your treatment. and he saw you as more than an object. for once, you were human in someone’s eyes. your heart warmed at the thought.

“look, let’s not talk about dom,” you avert his attention instead, “why don’t we dance uh..?”

“dean, my name’s dean. and you are?”

you smiled slightly at his fitting name, “i’m y/n.”

you slipped your fur coat off and left it on the barstool, his eyes glancing over your bare arms and shoulders, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. you looked almost angelic in such a harsh environment, you’re subtle innocence becoming more obvious as time passed.

you grabbed onto his rough, callus hands and dragged him onto the dancefloor, and letting him guide your body instead. his hands stayed on your waist politely, but as the two of you got closer and closer to one another, they settled on your hips, one travelling up to your hair affectionately. as you danced, he stayed gentle with you, never getting grabby or inappropriate, but staying tender with his actions. it was refreshing to be treated with care for once, you craved it, you craved warmth and loving devotion.

quickly, the two of you got too caught up in each other to notice the number of dom’s men in the area.

“dean, we need to go.”

“what do you mean go?” he mumbled into your ear.

“i mean we need to leave right now,” your heart beat quickened as you worried about what could happen to dean if you got caught.

but he caught on and wasted no time leading you by your hand to the exit. as scared as you were of getting caught, your were excited at the thought of having freedom.

“y/n? we should run.”

“why?”

“because they are.”

dean pulled you through the manic crowds, down the dimly lit hallway to the exit.

“dean look out!”

in front of you were too of dom’s men, taking up the whole corridor with their large builds. you lead the way and pulled him down a nearly black hallway, with people lingering the whole way though it.

“i’ve got an idea,” dean whispers. they were getting closer.

“what is it?”

“just go along with it, okay?”

before you even had the opportunity to respond, his lips landed on yours. his arms locked on either side of the wall, blocking you in and hiding you. his lips continued kissing you as you still tried to get over the shock of somebody else being so intimate with you. it felt better than you’d imagined kissing someone else, so much more caring and light compared to dom’s painful, hard kisses that bruised your lips.

the two of dom’s men went straight past you, barely even noticing your attempt at blending in.

dean’s lips slowly detached from yours, his head resting against yours still, one arm sweeping hair off your face.

“sorry if that stepped over any lines, i thought it would help disguise us,” he whispered.

“it’s okay, it worked anyway. they’re gone now.”

“if they’re gone then why are we still whispering?”

you chuckle at his light-hearted humour, grabbing both of his hands and intertwining them with your comparably small ones.

“do you wanna come stay at my place tonight? you’ll have a bed and food and someone there to keep you safe from the baddies,” he joked.

“oh and who would that be?” you playfully replied.

“the guy who just saved your cute ass.”

“touche.”

the paced walk to his apartment was filled with trivial conversation, the two of you just enjoying the peaceful aftermath of the club.

finally you arrived outside of his flat. dean lived in a big city apartment on the top story with 5 other guys, all tall, muscly, tattooed. it was obvious that they were the gangsta sort too. they all dressed smart and in their jacket’s lining pocket you could make out the shape of pistols.

but you were used to these kinds of men, and they didn’t scare you one bit.

“fellas,” dean announces, “this is y/n, shes dom’s girl.”

they all looked at him with shock.

“what, and dom just gave her to you?” the first one spoke up, “if he find’s her here, you’re dead, we’re all dead.”

“we’ll be fine, vin, i’m gonna make sure nothing happens to her.”

you looked up at him, but he only sternly looked vin in the eye.

“if you can promise that none of us get our asses kicked, then she’s more than welcome to stay.”

dean showed you to his room, and let you in. the room was more open than you’d imagined, the whole of one wall was a window overlooking the lit up city. his bed was up against the glass, low to the ground and unmade with a laptop lying on it. but it still looked inviting. in the corner was a laundry pile, blood stained t-shirts lying on top. he had a record player in the corner and stacks of vinyl, and a wardrobe. but that was it. no more possessions and no more furniture.

“it’s very..” you tried to find the right words.

“empty? i’m aware,” he looked out the window.

“i was gonna say simple but yeah, that works too. but i like it, it feels.. right.”

“right?”

“yeah, like, i feel comfortable in here, which is surprising for me,”

you slipped his jacket he’d given you earlier off and dropped it onto the floor.

you stood there lit up by the city and moon’s lights in nothing but a small dress, and he swore to himself he had never seen anything more beautiful before in his life.

“y/n, i,” dean didn’t know how to get out the right words, “i don’t want you to think that i expect you to, ya know, do stuff.”

“i know,” you replied softly, “thank you for everything. you didn’t have to give up so much just to save someone like me.”

“someone like you? y/n, you deserve so much more than what i can give you, but for now this is all i have.”

you lean up and leave a small kiss on the tip of his nose. his eyes shut and he leans his head into the crook of your neck.

“nothing whatsoever is gonna happen to you, no one else is gonna lay a hand on you with out your consent. and i’m gonna make sure of it.”

dean may have been a face from only a few hours ago, but nothing about him was going to cause you harm. he made you feel safe for the first time in so long.

fatigue hit you as you exhaled, sinking into dean’s stature. his arms snuck around your waist and he lifted you up and carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapping around his waist.

he softly placed you down, pulling the covers over you. he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, showing you his toned, slightly scarred upper body, along with his trousers, and changed into a pair of sweatpants.

“you have tattoos?” you question, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to you. he crouches at the side of the bed next to your head.

“i have a few,” he turns round shows the back of his neck,

r e b e l

and then along the side of his neck and down his left bicep was a plum tree with inky branches spiralling off the side, blossoms coming around the sides.

“they’re amazing.”

your hands trace along his shoulder and down the side of his bicep, moving down to grip his waist. you’re exhaustion had somewhat disappeared and was replaced with a desperate, desire to have more of dean. but this time, you didn’t want to please because you had to, but because you wanted to. you were free to make whatever decision you wanted to make, and your decision was to have dean.

much to his surprise, you pulled him onto you on the bed and covered his lips with hungry kisses, his hands gripping your hips in shock. but he reacted quickly and picked up your hands from his bare waist and pinned them above your head. if dom had done that, you would have been disgusted, but when dean held your wrists so delicately, it felt blissful.

wrapping your legs around his naked torso, you kissed down his jaw along to his neck and ear. playfully, you nipped and tugged at his earlobe, his groans filling the air and your head.

“i wanna see more of you,” he started to slide the strap to your cami down your shoulder, leaving tender kisses along your burning skin as he went.

underneath your dress was nothing except panties and your stocking-hidden pistol. he slipped it off of the top half of your body, your breasts completely on display to him. he swallowed audibly and licked his lips slightly at you. but he only saw you as beautiful. not “hot”. or “sexy”. just beautiful.

his hands softly cupped around both your breasts, kneading them slightly. you let a moan past your lips, but he shushed you and motioned to the door, meaning he didn’t want the guys to hear them.

you gulped and nodded, and he continued to rub your breasts, his lips coming down on one and grazing your nipple. you gasp at the feel of his cool breath on your hot skin. nobody had ever touched your body with so much delicacy before in your life and you were basking in it.

his hands slipped the dress the whole way down you body, all that remaining were the matching pink panties and stockings, which he took the pistol out of and placed at the side of his bed. his fingers dusted over the lace of your underwear, fingers hooking round and pulling down, and off.

he grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your torso, giving him a clear view of your aroused, glistening heat. he exhaled loudly at the magnificent sight before him. you looked so stunning like that, completely content yet so flustered by his small movements on your thighs.

his fingers finally made there way to your damp core, and he wasted no time in giving your clit a firm press and rub from his thumb. you released a suppressed moan at his actions, your hands gripping the bed sheets with such force, your knuckle turned white. his thumb was suddenly removed and replaced with his wet tongue. he licked from the base up to the top of your clit, making you’re already damp core wetter.

“dean, more,” you whimper, “i need more.”

he instantly pushed a finger inside you at your request, slowly pumping at first. normally, you would have an felt uncomfortable stinging every time dom fingered you. but dean took care of you properly, making you feel like you were in ecstasy.

with each pump you grunted with a slight whimper, your breathes becoming shallower and unstable. dean took out his finger and left you feeling empty, as he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers together. he sat back on his heels and kneeled down on the bed, grabbing you by the hips and sitting you on his lap.

“are you ready?” he whispered, “we can wait if you want.”

“no,” you wanted this, “please go on.”

he took no time at all as he lifted your hips and settled them on top of his length, his width taking you by surprise. you arched your back against his chest, your breasts pushing against him flushed.

“dean keep going,” you breathed.

he started to push into slowly, starting a rhythm and a pace for the two of you. you rolled your hips onto him, eliciting a hiss from dean’s bitten lips.

the two of you had no struggle reaching your climaxes easily, both so desperate to make the other come undone. you were finally going to experience your first orgasm. no matter how many times dom had fucked you, you never got any enjoyment out of it. and your ex before that always came before you. so you were stuck in a cycle of almosts.

dean sucked along your neck and left dark marks all across the smooth expanse of skin and his thrusts became hard and rough, the sound of your skin hitting his.

“dean i’m gonna,” you yelped in surprise of the feeling that had exploded in your lower body. dean made one lay thrust and came with you, his breathes loud in your ear.

the two of you clutched each other as you caught your breath, all of your body touching the others. the city and star light lit up your glistening bodies, the glow off your incandescent skin.

“how was that?” dean mumbles into your neck, your hair muffling his words.

“it was..” you didn’t know how to describe how incredible that felt. you were overwhelmed with intense feelings, “amazing.”

he smiled at your eyes twinkling in the city light. dean got up to grab you a clean shirt to sleep in for the night, and some underwear for himself. you pulled the cosy shirt over your head, sighing contently as you looked over the city view.

he climbed in next to you and wrapped his sturdy arms around your waist, snuggling into your neck and back tightly. you giggled at his cuteness, surprised to see such a light hearted side to a mobster.

dean was unlike any other, he had a heart of gold that had been stolen and exploited. and your heart aches for him, and how misunderstood he must be.

“how did you get into this job then?” you were beating around the bush a little, you knew mobsters didn’t like their label. you turned around and rested your head in the crook of his shoulder.

“i was born into it, my dad used to be the head of our mob. but during a debt collection, he was surprise attacked and shot in the head. so i started working for them too, hoping to find my dad’s killer. i started off on routine deals and then started getting better with a gun and my fists. the new mob leader liked my dedication to the cause and so he started taking me out on collections like my dad did. i’ve been doing it ever since. but i’ve never killed. i mean i’ve fucked up a few faces here and there, but that’s it. i can’t put others through what i went through myself.”

you stayed silent and placed a kiss on his bare chest, showing your comfort in your actions. you wanted to show him how much you cared, so you snuggled even further into his side.

who knows what you were gonna do now. dean was a face from a few hours ago and he had already seen so much of you. he was your hero, whether or not he’d done his fair share of damage in the past. he may not see himself as a good guy, but you saw him as the best.

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 37: Burial Ground Adventure (1979)

A familiar style of title screen.

Today’s game is Burial Ground Adventure, another in the surprisingly common sub-genre of “early text adventures designed by young boys”. Joel Mick is the boy in question for this game. He was twelve at the time, based in New Jersey, and apparently distributed the game himself (with the help of his family, I suspect). Mick later became one of the original playtesters for the seminal trading card game Magic: The Gathering, then went on to be one of the game’s brand managers, so he did alright for himself.

As for Burial Ground Adventure, this should be a quick one, because there’s not a lot going on with this game that we haven’t seen before. It was released in 1979 for the TRS-80, and it’s yet another text adventure where the goal is to hunt down some treasures and take them to a specific location. Other games in that style have gotten by on being early enough in gaming history to have a novel location, but this game doesn’t even have that going for it.

The game begins by asking your name (which is only used to name the save file), and then begins with the protagonist standing on the beach of a small island, carrying nothing at all. To the south there’s a sand bar with a sign saying that this is the place where you should drop your treasure and type SCORE to win. As with other games of its type, the game has a score (with 100 maximum points) and gives you a rank when you end the game.

The start of the game.

Further exploration revealed that the island is not at all large. There was some jungle to the north, a small swamp to the west, and some cliffs and a waterfall to the northwest. Further north was a hole in the ground that looped back to the cliffs and the beach (or so I thought, but more on that later). A path headed east, leading to a house. Or it might have been a castle, the game has it both ways.

The door to the castle was locked, which constituted the first obvious puzzle of the game. There was a kennel not far away that had a key in it, but that key was guarded by dogs who wouldn’t let me take it. There were a number of items scattered around the island that I thought might be helpful though:

There’s a gun lying to the west of the starting location. It’s no good for killing the dogs though, because it has no bullets.

Near a stream west of the jungle is a note, but that’s just a plug for Mick’s next game, Damsel in Distress. This sort of stuff is all over games of this era.

South of the kennel is a shed, and inside can be found a wire hanger.

One of the paths in the jungle leads to a pit trap, set to catch animals. At the bottom of the pit is a bamboo shoot and some nondescript animal meat. The meat seems like a good solution to getting rid of the dogs, but at this point there’s no way to climb out of the pit. If you stumble in here without the right item there’s nothing to do but restart or reload.

There’s also a shovel lying on the path to the house. I used it to dig in every location, and in the swamp I found some rope.

With the rope in my possession, I was able to make some progress. I went back to the pit, grabbed the meat and the bamboo, and used the rope to climb back out. The command used to get out of the pit is a little awkward, because we’re dealing with a simple two word parser here: you need to THROW ROPE while you’re at the bottom of the pit, and then CLIMB ROPE. I didn’t have any trouble with it, because I’d just encountered the exact same puzzle solution in Battlestar, but I could see it causing some problems.

I took the meat to feed it to the dogs, with some further awkwardness with the parser: rather than FEED DOGS you have to type FEED MEAT, which isn’t intuitive at all, but at least the game tells you outright what it expects here. Much to my surprise, it didn’t work. Half of the dogs left after being fed, but those that remained were still blocking me from the key.

With no other paths to explore, I figured that there must be another way to open the door. The wire hanger seemed a good bet, so I tried PICK LOCK, which worked. I have to admit, it’s a mildly clever fake-out to put an obvious but false solution out in the open, while hiding the actual solution in plain sight.

The ground floor of the house had six rooms:

The entry hall.

A recreation room, where there was a TV. I turned on the TV and saw an ad for dog-food, which explicitly says that you shouldn’t feed dogs steak or meat. This made me think I’d need dog-food to solve the game, but it ends up being a red herring.

A bathroom, which serves no purpose at all.

A laundry, with a laundry chute (which the game spells “shute”).

A kitchen with a refrigerator. Inside the fridge is a steak.

A closet with a match and some ammunition. There’s also a trapdoor leading up, but nothing I did was able to open it.

Feeding the steak to the dogs seemed like the logical thing to do at this time, but now that I had some ammo I opted for a violent solution. Predictably, it did not end well.

I think this might be the only death in the game.

Giving them the steak was more successful, satisfying the half that hadn’t been sent away by the meat. But now I had a key and no door to try it on. It didn’t do anything to the trapdoor, so I was stuck.

At this point I started using the game’s HELP command, which gives a small hint at various locations. At the beach with the hole in it, it told me that there might be something in the hole. Naturally I’d thought of that myself, but going DOWN from the beach just led to some cliffs with nothing of note to be found. It turned out that I had to GO HOLE. Having that DOWN option was a bit misleading here.

Going down led to a dark pit. I lit the match I had found in the closet, and was given a brief glimpse of a door before it fizzled out. I opened the door with the key, and found myself in a catacomb, which is presumably the “burial ground” from the game’s title. The catacombs don’t require a light source, even though the entrance did.

In a passage east I found some rubies, and then a secret room with more treasure: diamond jewelry, some ancient drawings and a gold cross. The tunnel had also collapsed behind me, but luckily I was still carrying the shovel. Without it, there’s no way to dig to freedom.

The catacombs also have a small maze. Seriously, it’s only got two locations, but I’m not complaining. Somewhat nonsensically, this maze leads to the top floor of the house, don’t ask me how. I wasn’t all that upset about it though, because I hadn’t been able to get up here through the closet trapdoor.

There are three more treasures in the top floor rooms: a pearl, a stamp album, and a portrait of George Washington. I tried to read the stamp album, but no luck. If I’d tried OPEN ALBUM instead, the stamps would have all blown away, but I avoided that pitfall by using the wrong command.

There’s also a pillow, and a “shute” leading down to the laundry. You can slide the pillow down and then slide objects down after it so that they land softly. It’s kind of pointless though, as I later discovered that you can just carry items out of the house in your inventory with no problem.

Right now I had a problem, though, because I was trapped on the top floor of the house. There’s no way to get back to the catacombs. There’s a room that’s obviously on top of the closet, but the trapdoor doesn’t exist as an object from that side. The “shute” would be a likely way down, but the game crashed when I tried to slide down it.

I had to figure out a way to open the closet trapdoor from the bottom. The HELP command told me I should try pushing it open, but PUSH DOOR returns the message that “nothing happens”. I’ll admit that at this point I consulted a walkthrough for the answer: you need to push the trapdoor open with the bamboo shoot, presumably because it’s out of reach. It’s a solution I might have come up with after a trawl through my inventory, but that “nothing happens” message threw me off. I was thinking that the trapdoor must be locked, or blocked somehow, not that I couldn’t reach it. On top of that, the command used is PUSH BAMBOO, which is terribly unintuitive.

Now that I had a way to get up to the top floor and back down, I gathered all of the treasures and took them back to the sand bar: the rubies, the diamond jewelry, the ancient drawings, the gold cross, the portrait, the pearl, and the stamp album. With all of these treasures, plus one point for each location visited, I had earned the full score.

Finishing Burial Ground Adventure took me about two hours, albeit with some help. That’s about the length of time I want to spend on a game like this, so I wasn’t exactly bored, but it also wasn’t giving me anything new or interesting. I need games that are short and simple for the blog now and then, just to maintain my sanity, but it’s hard to know how to sum it up. It’s exactly a text adventure from 1979, and not exactly terrible, but you’re better off playing something from Scott Adams.

FINAL RATING:

Story & Setting: The story is in well-trodden territory by this point. I get that a treasure hunt is a very good framework for a simple text adventure, and I don’t exactly hate it, but I’m happier to see some games that do something else at this point. The setting, an island with a house/castle and some burial grounds, is pretty bland and uninspiring. The descriptions are much too brief to evoke much of anything. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Characters & Monsters: The game doesn’t have any other creatures in it except for the dogs, and as I’ve had to say countless times before, they’re more obstacles than characters to interact with. Oh, I just checked: you can’t pat the dogs. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Aesthetics: Text adventure, terse descriptions, no music and very little atmosphere. I could cut and paste the text from any number of adventure games from this era and use it here. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Mechanics: The game has a simple two word parser that only recognises the first four letters of any word, but it performs adequately enough despite some awkward commands being needed to perform more complex tasks. Rating: 3 out of 7.

Challenge: Aside from the one bit I got stuck on, this game is very easy. The trapdoor puzzle was a victim of both some imprecise description as well as an awkward parser command, otherwise it would have been pretty simple as well. So this game is mostly too easy, and in the place where it’s difficult it’s not difficult in a satisfying way. Rating: 2 out of 7.

Innovation & Influence: Burial Ground Adventure isn’t doing anything that hasn’t already been done by other games that preceded it, and it comes off as an imitation of what Scott Adams was doing. The game also doesn’t have much of a historical footprint, so I can’t rate it highly here. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Fun: I didn’t get much out of this one beyond the usual enjoyment I get from exploring and mapping, but it was short which always counts for something. Rating: 2 out of 7.

I won’t revisit this game, so it doesn’t get the bonus point. The scores above total 11, which doubled gives a Final Rating of 22. That puts it right down near the bottom, with only Library – which was broken – scoring worse. As we go on there’s be less of these games getting a bump from the Innovation & Influence category, so lower scores might become more common.

NEXT: I have a game called Devil’s Caverns on my list, but the only reference I can find to it points to Devil’s Dungeon, so I’m going to say that it doesn’t exist unless I’m told differently. That makes the next game Super Dungeon, a CRPG for the Apple II which was helpfully provided to me by The CRPG Addict.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-37-burial-ground-adventure-1979/

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 6/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 6/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "Despite the fact he knew he was done, he was fighting against the virus. He didn’t want to lose that already lost fight and he was clinging to the memories of his friends, to the memories of the wife he loved so much. His change lasted longer than it should have because he was struggling."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” - Kahlil Gibran.

CHAPTER 6:

Second day of October 2017. Day 1746 since the infection. Maxence Spitz video log. Take 2. What I’ve feared finally occurred on this day. We’ve been wandering in the town all day, knowing we wouldn’t see anyone. The lightwalkers don’t come out anymore, they’re all remaining hidden behind solid closed doors and blinds, hoping it will protect them against the virus, against the madness. The virus has mutated again and people have gone violent. The town is ravaged by fires and vandalism. It will become harder to restock the centre of researches with food and supplies. You have to find that cure in the days to come or you will all die from hunger and God knows what else if you have that chance of not being infected. Now, it’s either you find that cure, or you let the world fall into this madness. Or you let the world destroy itself until there’s nothing left. Humanity was a plague and Mother Nature is making us all paid. The nightwalkers came out while the night was falling. They were already out while it was still twilight outside. They are less bothered by the light now. They are cleverer than we thought they were. They knew we were coming. They set up a trap for us and we’ve run straight into it. One of them bit my neck, here. Xavier died to take me away from them. Allegro killed some. Adam ran away with Louise and Danny. It’s a chance. In normal circumstances, they would have been punished for this, but I don’t blame them. I would have run away if I’ve had the time to. This is my last words as your leader. I’ve sent Emily away with the rest of the team and ordered her to put the whole building in lockdown to protect all of you. I’ve named Tegan Smith as my successor and Jack Harkness as his second in command. I trust them both to the cure you are desperately looking for. I feel it, the noctiagus. It’s spreading in my body. It’s in my veins, burning every single nerve inside me. You probably can’t see it well but I know it. My eyes have turned black. Allegro has stayed with me. He locked me into the room of this sort of bunker we have found so I could record this last video for you. I’m gonna film my whole change into a nightwalker so you can have as many leads as possible for your researches. I’ve asked Allegro to lock me in the crate and to bring me back to the lab. I’ll be the living specimen I was supposed to catch. Jack has sacrificed Peggy for his new lead. I’ve been sacrificed for this mission and I’m giving you myself for your researches. I’m sorry this had to end like this. I believe in all of you. You’ll find that cure without me. No matter the time it will take. Goodbye. The rest of the video was just hours of the agony Maxence had gone through. Despite the fact he knew he was done, he was fighting against the virus. He didn’t want to lose that already lost fight and he was clinging to the memories of his friends, to the memories of the wife he loved so much. His change lasted longer than it should have because he was struggling. He still fought Allegro when the captain of the team came to lock him in the crate but the pain he was in prevented him from winning once again. He was locked in the crate with his camera to continue his long agony until he was brought to the building three days later. The battery of the camera had died some time ago but it had held on long enough to film the entire change, to see Maxence turning into a nightwalker because of a mission he was given. Rory and Mickey had managed to go to the cages unnoticed despite this hour of the day. Everyone should be out in the labs to work but no one was there. The tension was though. It was the calm before the storm. It was too quiet for something not to happen later, for the storm not to rage when the tension would reach its climax. In a way, it was good for the two men. They could work without the glances of everyone on their backs. They unlocked the airlock and went through it to the first cage. They entered the code and the door slid open for the two men to come in with the crate. They put it down on the ground. Their prisoner had calmed down now that they had reached a room lighted with UV lights. All along the walk, he had been kicking against the plastic and groaning loudly to protest. Or to express his pain. The two men looked at each other, wondering what they should do now that they had taken him to the cage. They couldn’t leave him inside the crate. They had to free him. But what if he attacked them? Rory glanced inside the crate. His boss had his eyes closed and his translucent skin was red on his face. Intolerance to the light they said. No wonder why he was protesting if it was burning him. He seemed inoffensive, almost dead. Some people were dying from the virus. Was he…? No, he was breathing. Slowly, too slowly, but he was breathing. Someone would connect him to the system to check his vital signs 24/7. He was their Guinea pig until the day he would either die or heal. Heal being the better option. Rory knelt down and dialled a code on the keyboard of the casing that was on the crate’s side. There were a couple seconds of wait before it beeped positively. The lid was unlocked with a click and Mickey stepped back when his colleague opened the crate. Rory took a step backward. Maxence didn’t move at first. The two men were on alert. They couldn’t keep their eyes off their boss but they really should leave this place. Mickey was opening the door when Maxence blinked and sat up in his crate. Rory felt like he was watching the ghost of a man he once knew as the tall man was extracting himself from the crate. He made no move to attack any of the men present with him in the cage. Instead, he tilted his head on the side to observe Rory, as if it was the first time he ever saw him. But he remained still, not trying to charge like Peggy had done with Jack. Before the situation could go wrong, Rory grabbed the empty crate he closed, never taking his eyes off Maxence, and dragged it toward Mickey who had finally opened the door. They locked the cage, walked through the airlock. They left the crate in the airlock, just in case, and left the pressurised sterilised place before they removed the upper part of their suits. “There was this woman I’ve always been in love with,” started Rory, standing in front of Maxence’s cage. “She was called Amy. It was short for Amelia. Amelia Pond. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. We were seven when I’ve told her that I’d marry her when we would be adults.” “She said you were crazy, slapped you and ran away?” “Pretty much. But I’ve never given up.” “And so? Has she given in?” “Unfortunately too late,” murmured the man. “I was asking her to marry me when I noticed her eyes. She used to have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve seen in my life and that night, they were gone. I could see nothing else but a dark empty void. She didn’t even know she was infected.” “I’m sorry, mate.” “I did my duty. I reported her to the authorities. They have a list of all the infected people. Of the ones that were reported anyway. I don’t know where she is now. I just hope she will hold on until a cure is found.” They both kept silent but their thought was the same as they watched Maxence wandering around his new place: they had lost their best asset to this war against inhumanity. Sure they had some of the most brilliant minds here, but they were all related to Maxence in their own ways and seeing him in this condition would upset them enough to influence their work. Rory had found the strength of leaving his Amelia behind for this cure, would Rose and all the team find that strength too? “Who’s gonna be in charge now?” “Maxence must have thought about this possibility. He has chosen someone he can rely on.” “Like his own wife?” “I don’t think he’d be biased. My mind would be on Jack.” “T is brilliant too.” “Yeah, but he’s not strong enough for this responsibility. Colin could be.” “Certainly not!” exclaimed Mickey, horrified at the thought of Colin Appleton as a leader. “He’s too much of a sociopath to be given any responsibility.” “Anyway, it’s not like we have an opinion to express on the matter.” Whoever had been chosen for this heavy responsibility of leader, both Mickey and Rory would have to do with that. They were giving orders to their own teams but they had to obey to the leader of the place which once had been Maxence. The two men left the room and walked back to their duty.

x

Rose, my dear Rosie, my so beloved wife… Before you start cursing me and swearing that you’ll slaughter me as soon as you can get a hold of me, know that I haven’t chosen to go on that suicide mission. I always refuse the members of my team to go outside for any reason. I do that to protect them. This rule applies to you and to me as well. But I’ve gotten this call after the situation in London got worse. The government wants answers and someone has to go and get them outside. The responsibility falls upon me. It is a direct order from the Prime Minister and I can’t disobey it no matter I hate it. I never meant to lie to you but I didn’t want you to worry about me being outside. My focus would have been troubled and it is important for me not to worry about anything during this mission. My only focus has to be on catching this living human specimen. I don’t need to tell you how terrified I am right now. You can see it on my face, in my body language, in my eyes. You’ve always been good at reading me like an open book. My Rosie, I know you don’t want to hear these words but I have to tell you all of this now, through this video. Just in case I wouldn’t come back. Just for you to know. First of all, it’s really not against you but I name Tegan Smith as the substitute leader of the team. You and Jack will be his seconds in command. I trust the three of you the most. All the signed papers are in the last drawer of my desk. You won’t have any problem with everyone. I’ve planned it all. Just in case. Second, well, this part is only for you. My dear Rosie. The woman of my life. If it’s the last time I ever get to speak to you, I want you to know how sorry I am. I wish I had found this cure years ago so we could have gone back to our little life, so I could have given you the children you’ve always wanted. I’m sorry for failing my mission, for having myself infected, for giving up on you. It is all against my will. Just know that I will forever love you. I’ve promised you. I’ve promised to live you for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I’ve promised to love you until the end and if I lose myself, if I get infected, I’ll hold on to the strength of my love for you to survive in the jungle of nightwalkers. If I never make it back to the lab, don’t forget me but, please, do not mourn me too long. Build yourself a new life and be happy as much as possible. I’m asking you a lot, I know that, but I don’t want you to grieve forever. As hard as it is, please, live on and remember me. I love you. Rose didn’t know how many times she had watched his video. Enough to have her eyes burning as if she had washed them with methylated spirit. She had cried all of the tears she had in her. Her head hurt but she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen that was displaying the last images of her husband. She would never see him again. He was somewhere, outside, in the middle of the nightwalkers. He was probably one of them too. It broke her heart to think about him that way. She pressed pause and the image stilled. She observed his face, his blue eyes, remembered his voice. Her fingers touched him through the screen. The window was cold but she was feeling the warmth of his skin through her memories. That was what made her take this decision. She left Maxence’s office and locked it behind her. She hid the key in her office and ran to the equipment room. If Maxence couldn’t go back to her, she would go and get him. She found a black combat dress that suited her and pulled it on without waiting. She was lacing her boots when she heard a noise that drew her attention. She turned around but saw no one. She could still hear the noise though. Someone crying. She followed the sound, trying to be as discreet as the boots were allowing her to. At the very bottom of the room, huddled in a corner, she found Adam, Maxence’s assistant. He was still wearing his combat dress. Had he been hiding there since Liv freed him from the tent? The young man was very upset and was hiding for the others not to see how shaken he was. Sure that if his own friends saw him like this, they would make fun of him though they had no idea what he had seen outside. “Adam?” The young assistant hiccuped and raised his head to see who had found him in here when he thought no one would. He wasn’t relieved at all to see Rose. How could he face her when he had seen her husband be killed right in front of him? “Miss Rose?” His voice let her know that he had been crying for a while but she made no comment as she knelt down. He sniffled and wiped away his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his combat dress. “Have you been hiding there for three days?” “Where can I go? Mister Maxence…” “I know. I’m going out to get him back.” “What?” Adam’s eyes grew big as he looked at Rose. “No. Don’t go outside. Don’t. They’ll kill you!” “Adam.” She was determinate. She would go outside and bring her husband back. “This place can’t work without him. He recruited us all. He’s the cornerstone of this building. If he’s gone, everything collapses. I have to find him.” “I’m sorry, miss Rose. I’m really sorry.” Adam broke down again and hid his face in his knees. He couldn’t hide this from her. He had been part of a secret mission and he wasn’t supposed to talk to anybody else but Maxence and since the boss would never be back, he couldn’t talk to anyone. But he couldn’t hide this from Rose. “We fell into a trap,” he murmured between two sobs. “It was the end of the day and we hadn’t found any clue of where the nightwalkers were hiding during the day. We wanted to find one and take it by surprise to bring it back here. It was the safest way to do it but…” He sobbed harder, reliving the scene again and again. “We haven’t found anything and we were coming back to safety. But there was this kid crying in the middle of the street. And mister Maxence… you know how he is. He knew we only had a couple of minutes to go to the van but wanted to help this kid. He told us to stand still and went over the kid.” He stopped speaking. The tears and panic were suffocating him. However, Rose needed to know more. Adam was delivering her the truth. She was afraid but she needed to hear it. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook Adam lightly. “What happened Adam? Tell me. What has happened to Maxence?” “The nightwalkers, they are cleverer than we thought and… they can come out earlier. The sun wasn’t down yet and they were already lurking in the shadows.” “Faster, Adam!” “The kid was infected. None of us had noticed it. When mister Maxence picked him up, the kid bit his neck brutally. The guards, they tried to intervene but the nightwalkers were surrounding mister Maxence. He yelled to us to run away, to go back to the building as more infected were attacking him. He had no chance. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Rose’s heart sank. She had wanted the truth and she had it. Her husband would never be back. He was infected. Going after him would be useless. He wouldn’t recognise her. His brain was dead. Her knight was dead and there was nothing she could do to save him. Finding the cure? They had no chance without Maxence, and the antidote they had synthesised showed no results so far. Jack was keeping them updated but Peggy’s condition hadn’t improved or gotten worse over the last three days. The results weren’t official as Maxence hadn’t confirmed them although everyone knew that Jack was a trustworthy and brilliant man. It meant that even if she could find her husband out there, she had no way to bring him back to her. She was alone to face the rest of her life and that’s an idea she couldn’t bear. Body and mind entirely numb, she stood up and left the room. She wandered in the building like a ghost. She didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to talk with anyone. She had had a little hope that Maxence could be alive and it had just been crushed down. Screw this man and his will of saving everyone! It had cost him his life and it was shattering her into pieces. The pain in her heart was such that she fell to her knees in the middle of the corridor she was walking in and she yelled to the top of her lungs and she cried over the loss of her only love.

x

Colin was unhappy. He had been told that Martha had been absent just for a couple of days because she had a cold and couldn’t work. Whenever you were sick, you had to stop working until you fully recovered. It was to avoid any sort of contamination of the possible antidote, to avoid the virus they were working on to grow stronger by mixing with another one as simple as a cold. It meant that Martha Jones would be back to work soon and that Colin would have to leave her lab to go back to the stuff maintenance. He was working on a cure of his own in a free lab. He had noticed the flaws in Rose and Clara’s work and was fixing it whenever he got time but he couldn’t test it on Peggy. Jack wouldn’t let him close to his precious pig. Colin had to find another Guinea pig. They didn’t have any animal left in the basement. All the rats were gone, the monkeys hadn’t survived. But Maxence was bringing a living specimen in. This was getting interesting. The tests were all done and the quarantine was over. It meant the specimen was between their walls. Colin headed to the underground labs where were the cages set for the human specimens. He needed to see it by himself. He needed to see if that dumbass Maxence had had the courage of going out to get this nightwalker. Obviously he had since one of the cages had been activated. The uv lights were on and the rest of the room was in the dark. The scientist walked to see the face of the infected that had been brought inside. He couldn’t help the smirk when he realised it was Maxence himself. That idiot had gotten infected. It would be a great pleasure to work on him. Colin knocked on the door to get his boss attention. Maxence out of the game, it made him the leader of the place. They had been recruited almost at the same time. It made him more legitimate to the job of leader than any other of his colleagues. He smirked wilder. Maxence walked to the glass wall Colin was standing in front of. With the last results of the tests, the man knew that the noctiagus was turning the infected into complete idiots and he expected Maxence to try and walk to him despite the invisible wall between them. However, even in his stupidity, Maxence seemed to remain clever. He stopped a few centimetres away from the wall and tilted his head on the side as if he was trying to remember who was the man before him. He really looked like the idiot of the village. He knocked on the wall to respond the scientist, his hand covered in dry blood because he had hurt himself by hitting the crate repeatedly. His face was covered in red marks that were turning into small white blisters, almost invisible on his translucent skin. He could die of an infection if it wasn’t taken care of. How ironic would that be? Surviving outside and dying from a tiny skin infection? Oh, how much Colin would laugh at that! “I really like how the wheel is turning right now, dear friend.” His voice was pernicious. He appreciated the show before him and couldn’t hide it, nor could he hide his nastiness. “You, in this cage and me, in your place. If you expected to have a special treatment because everyone is your friend out there, you’re wrong. You’ve humiliated me by pushing me away and you’re gonna pay for that. Do you hear me, idiot? Your life is gonna be hell from now on.” To prove his point, Colin reached for the control panel of the cage and pressed a couple buttons, changing the settings. The uv lights were replaced by normal lights. Maxence’s reaction to this change was immediate. His pale skin turned to red and he threw himself to the ground where he crawled under the camp bed to protect himself from the sudden burn he was suffering from. Poor creature was harmless at the moment and Colin was enjoying this more than he should be. It was a human being he was torturing after all. Even if he didn’t consider nightwalkers to be human beings, they still were. When he heard footsteps coming his way, he faked a panicked expression while he tried to bring the settings back to their normal state. He knew them by heart but it was more funny to see Maxence crawling like a worm to avoid the light. “What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice was so cold that everyone else would have frozen in fear but not Colin. He kept faking the panic and played his part. He was good at it but he needed the right audience. With Jack, it could not work. Especially since the argument they had had earlier. “I was passing by and I saw him turning as red as a beetroot. There has been a bug in the system and I can’t get the right settings back.” Colin stepped back when Jack approached the control panel and let him put the settings back to normal. Maxence was relieved when the uv lights were back and his whole body collapsed to the floor, welcoming the coldness of it with great pleasure. “Briefing. In five. Better be there, Appleton. I don’t wanna see you around this cage again or I’ll put you inside with him.” “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” “Bet on it.” Jack pointed to the closest exit of the room and Colin followed this direction. For now, he was obeying. In a few, they would all obey him. He couldn’t wait. He headed to the conference room where most of the team was already gathered. The briefing was as brief as the name was telling. They were just informed that a living specimen was brought back by Allegro. They didn’t give names. Only the persons who would work on the specimen would have his real identity. The others would just work by a number. There also was another information that filled Colin with rage. As Maxence was declared dead outside, a new leader had been designed. Tegan Smith. Fucking poofta Tegan Smith had been picked by Maxence before he went away on that mission. And Tegan Smith would have Jack as his second. He was so enraged at this decision that he chose to leave the room before the end of the briefing.

x

Rose hadn’t gone to the briefing. She already knew what would be told. It was Jack who had found her crying and yelling in that corridor and he had only confirmed Adam’s words. Maxence was infected, but he hadn’t been left in the streets. Allegro had brought him back, on his order, and he was now locked inside a cage downstairs. Of course she had wanted to see him and when she was in front of this cage, she broke again at the sight of her dear husband, huddled on the floor, badly burnt by the lights. She had no tears left now and she was alone with a man who used to be hers. And she was angry. Very angry. So, when Maxence looked up at her – he was checking if it wasn’t that cruel guy again – she burst out. “What the hell has gone through that stupid mind of yours to go outside and not tell me? Do you have any idea of what has gone through my mind when I couldn’t find you? Do you know how worried I’ve been when the lockdown was pronounced? When you didn’t come out of this tent? Have you even thought of me, Maxence, when you obeyed that fucking order? If you had, you would have told me! That’s your fault all of this! If you weren’t so clever, you wouldn’t have been the leader and they would have sent someone else! What am I gonna now without you? Have you thought about the lives you were sacrificing when you didn’t check if that kid was infected? A kid in the middle of a street while night is falling. Even Adam knew it was a trap! And you’ve fallen into it head first. What now? Hm? How are we supposed to do without you?” She wanted to break again but she didn’t have that strength into her anymore. If she was selfish, she would have gotten into that cage and let him infect her but he needed her to find a cure now that he was in here. She was watching him, his burnt skin, the bite in his neck not looking nice, as he walked to the glass door to face her. He needed her cares and she couldn’t get close to him like she normally would. Did he even know who she was anymore? A knock on the glass pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up at her husband who was staring at her, his hand on the glass wall. He pointed to it, to make her understand what he expected her to do. It surprised her. Nightwalkers weren’t known to take decisions or to interact with lightwalkers. Everyone thought they couldn’t but they were cleverer than expected. Rose placed her hand over Maxence’s on the glass wall and remembered the warmth of it against hers. She sniffled and he smiled to her. At that moment, Rose forgot everything. She couldn’t see the burns, the bite, the translucent skin. She only saw her husband and his smile. He was infected but somehow he hadn’t lost himself and knew who she was. He was making her understand that he was still there despite the virus eating him out. “Oh, Maxence, what have we done to end up like this?” she murmured. Maxence couldn’t hear her since she hadn’t pressed the intercom button. He acted like he had understood though. Rose closed her eyes briefly, her hand still over his. He knocked on the wall again. It sounded like a song. Their song. She pressed the button, quietly hummed it along his knocking so he could hear it. Her watch was ticking the seconds away but time wasn’t existing anymore for her. She was just taking advantage of this moment and making sure she would remember it later when he wouldn’t be himself anymore. She had no idea how long he would hold on to his identity, how long he would remember her and their relationship. So she kept humming the song to the rhythm of his knocking and when she couldn’t hum it anymore, she just moved her lips silently as she recited the lyrics again and again. “I’ll be back in five.” She suddenly ran out of the room. This wall was already too much for her so she pulled out a hazmat suit, borrowed a complete first aid kit and ran back to the lab. She went through the airlock and came into the cage. Maxence turned around to face her. Her latex gloved hand found his burnt cheek and he leant into her touch, much to her rapture. She didn’t care that he wasn’t her Maxence anymore – even if her heart was aching at the loss – a part of him was still there and that part needed her. So, she was gonna take care of him like she had always done and she didn’t mind what the others would say to her…

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2018 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

In the next chapter:

There was no one in his office when Jack arrived there. The lights were off. Tegan wasn’t there. He must have chosen to hide somewhere so no one would see him being completely hysterical with anxiety. Jack wondered why Maxence had chosen Tegan as his successor. He must have known that Tegan didn’t have the shoulders for this. He was a great man with a great intelligence but he wasn’t very authoritarian. How would he be obeyed? Good thing Maxence had thought about Jack and Rose to help him deal with it. Naming Tegan was showing him a huge proof of confidence and maybe that was what Tegan needed to get some maturity. But first, Jack had to find him and force him out of his shocked condition. Where was he hiding?

×××

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