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poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss.

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #rami40

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polaroid15 · 4 years ago

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Febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: Peter has a bad night and says things he doesn’t mean. Tony and May are there to help like the angels that they are. (Aka- me thinking about how Peter Parker is LITERALLY a 15 year old child, and everything he has to go through sucks lol. He needs all the hugs!!!!!)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72329514

Also-- HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY LOVES ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Sorry this is so angsty for such a happy holiday. Please forgive!

-----

Peter hadn’t meant to break his ribs. Or get stabbed, for that matter.

It was just a bad night.

All heroes had them...right?

Swinging is hell on his injuries so Peter walks home. There’s no moon tonight and the streets are cold. It’s lonely, and he debates calling Ned. But it’s late and he’s scared he’ll end up crying.

So he doesn’t.

By the time he reaches his front door his hands are shaking so badly that he drops his key three times. He tries to hurry, not wanting anyone to see him in his suit, and nearly breaks the door handle clean off in his rush. Eventually, he succeeds, and he isn’t sure if it’s the warm air or the relief of being home, but as soon as he steps inside his knees buckle.

“Peter!”

May is beside him in an instant, holding onto his shoulders tightly as she pulls him further into the apartment. He can smell her perfume, sharp and clean through the blood and gore on his body, and it’s a welcome relief.

“Oh God,” May curses, curling her fingers under his mask and peeling it off his face. “Peter? Peter are you okay?”

“Fine,” he breathes, but it hitches in his throat as a fresh wave of pain rolls over him. In truth, he feels like human roadkill.

May isn’t supposed to be home.

“Take it easy,” she says when he tries to push himself up. “Tell me what’s hurting.”

Peter groans, wishing he had gone somewhere else to lick his wounds. He hates worrying her. Weakly, he tries to push away her comforting hands and feels tears in his eyes when the fight is unsuccessful. She grabs his wrists in her hands, stopping his movements and looking at him fiercely. Her face blurs in and out of view.

“Peter Benjamin Parker. Talk to me. What’s hurting baby?”

Finally, he gives up.

“My ribs.”

May continues to look at him sharply, eyebrows raised. She’s breathing heavily, but otherwise is doing well at hiding her panic. He appreciates her for it, but it only serves to worsen his guilt.

“Your ribs and what else? You’re bleeding.”

“And- and a cut in my side.”

“Okay,” she says, and with more strength he would have attributed her to, she lifts them both up. They stumble as a broken mess into the bathroom, where Peter is set down on the toilet. May gets to work, and they don’t speak, May only shushing him lightly when he tenses against the sting of stitches.

Half the first-aid kit later, May is washing blood off her hands and Peter is leaning against the counter, eyes drooping closed. The ceiling is spinning above him. He feels like a towel that has been wrung out too hard.

“Thanks,” he whispers. Then, “I’m sorry.”

More tears brim at his eyes. His voice cracks. God, what’s wrong with me tonight?

“Peter-”

She sounds exasperated, her voice shaking. With her hands under steaming water, she scrubs harder, her skin stained pink.

“You need to take better care of yourself.”

Peter sits up at this, his stomach dropping like a stone. The room tilts and he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the night ever happened. “May, we’ve talked about this-”

“Peter, you can’t keep coming home covered in blood. You’re fifteen years old. I can’t- I can’t take it anymore.”

Peter sits still, trying to breathe past the sudden knot in his chest. He knows that he’s upset her, that she’s scared. “It’s my responsibility to protect the little guys,” he tries, but his voice is faint, hardly convincing to his own ears. “When I get hurt, that just means that someone else doesn’t.”

“It’s not fair.”

It’s really not, he thinks.

“I don’t care about getting hurt.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t care? God Peter, you should! You could die!”

Maybe it’s the pain or the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the countless horrors he’s seen, or the three times this week he’s woken up in a cold sweat. Maybe it’s the fresh memory of his long walk home, slowly bleeding out, alone. Regardless, he says it, and once it leaves his lips, it’s too late.

“I don’t care, okay? They’re more important than me, May. They have to be. Don’t you understand? That’s- that’s the whole point!”

He’s not sure if it’s the truth.

Tonight, it feels like it is.

No matter his own personal feelings about it, it’s the wrong thing to say. May flinches, and her eyes fill with tears. She slams off the taps and storms from the bathroom, leaving Peter alone. He watches her go, heart twisting, and nearly topples sideways when he tries to stand to go after her. Using the walls as support, he manages to limp into the hall. May is gone, locked in her room, so he travels to his own instead. He collapses into bed and stares up at the ceiling.

He’s crying, he realizes faintly.

It’s all too much.

It’s too damn much.

Minutes later, his phone rings.

Wincing when it jostles his ribs, Peter reaches for the device and pulls it up to his ear with some hesitance. It’s Tony. If he ignores it, he knows his mentor will just keep calling.

“Hey man,” he says weakly, trying to keep his voice steady as he wipes the tears off his cheeks with his sleeve.

There’s an exhale of air, like Tony is relieved to hear his voice. “Peter.”

“What is it?”

“I just got off the phone with May,” Tony says, and though his voice is candid, Peter can still detect the man’s worry. “She told me you were pretty beat up. How’re you feeling kiddo?”

“Fine,” he mumbles, picking at a stray thread on his comforter.

“Wanna try again?”

Peter bites his lips, blinking away tears of frustration. God. He should be hanging out with his friends. Playing video games with Ned. Maybe May is right. Maybe it isn’t fair. “What do you want me to say?” he snaps, “That I’m sore, that I’m tired? That I have three broken ribs and a stitched up stab wound?”

There’s a tense silence, so Peter plows onwards, the gaping hole in his chest deepening. “That I can’t close my eyes without seeing blood? Or the people I love dying? I- I should be going on dates, Tony. And- and in robotics club. I shouldn’t be collecting scars like baseball cards, or, or making May worry all the time-”

Tony cuts him off there, his voice gentle. “She worries because she cares, Pete.”

“And that’s the problem! I’m hurting her, and all I’m trying to do is help people.”

“She told me that you said you don’t care if you get hurt,” Tony says, then pauses. The space between his words feels like eons. “She said you didn’t care if you died, either.”

Peter sucks in a great lungful of air and holds it in his chest, the pressure just enough to distract him. He counts the rungs of the bunk bed above him. The argument still burns hot in his chest, and he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“Pete?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers, resolve crumbling. “Of- of course I care. I’m just tired. I’m so tired, Tony. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tony says quickly. “I know you. We’re just worried about you kiddo. We love you.”

Peter has to wipe his face again. “I know,” he chokes.

There’s a tense silence on the other end of the line, and Peter knows there’s more Tony wants to say about the topic. He doesn’t though. “Hey,” he says instead, “how about pizza and a movie? I could be over in a half hour.”

Again, Peter feels torn.

“Peter? Are you really going to turn down Iron Man?”

For the first time that night, Peter smiles. It heals something in his chest that he can’t be touched with gauze or antibiotics. “Right. Of- of course not. Come over.”

“Great. See you soon, kiddo. In the meantime, go apologize to your Aunt. Capiche?”

Peter smiles again, and relishes in the relief of it. “Capiche.”

“I’m proud of you Peter, okay? I know it’s tough. But I’m so proud.”

“Thanks Tony.”

It turns out bad days can become good days after all.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday14 #peter parker #tony stark #mcu #spider-man #peter parker whump #recovery #hurt peter parker #hurt/comfort #angst with fluff #angst with a happy ending #may parker #tony stark is a good dad #irondad #spiderson #irondad fic #my fic

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justbelievinginmagic · 4 years ago

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I Need U - Chapter 10: smile with me

a hyyh au / bangtan universe au ft oc x taehyung, oc x seokjin, yoongi x jungkook, ot7 & oc being pals.

series summary: Song Nari wanted to go home. Tired from working her part-time job after school, the last thing she wanted was to be sitting in traffic late at night. But her life is forever changed by seven delinquents who decided that tonight was the night to cause a traffic jam and havoc.

chapter summary: Life is just a series of snapshots. Smile.

rated: m

tags/warnings: implied/referenced recreational drug usage, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced hospitalization, health issues, abusive home situations, injuries, bullying, ptsd responses, depression, anxiety, drug misuse, loneliness, bad use of authoritative power, manipulation, mention of dead parents, self-hatred/self-destructive mindsets, explicit language, seizures, fluffy moments, smooching.

A/N: hi! with this chapter, we are caught up to my ao3 posts! with this post the fanfic is also currently at 58k words and we are definitely not done yet! I do want to warn that from this point onwards the topics touched upon in the story (while canonic to the HYYH world) are dark. This story is M rated due to this reason.

I also wanted to thank those who are reading! I really do love seeing your likes and your comments! I’m so happy you are enjoying the fic!! if you ever have any questions about the fic/characters/etc, feel free to ask! I’ve been writing this fic for the past 7 months so I really do know the world pretty well now lolol.

wordcount: 10.3k

series’ masterlist

start from the beginning | → next chapter

The year blurred after the beach. Even in the summer’s glow, memories happened far too quickly. Some things happened in snapshots, as if moments with the group were as disposable as Seokjin’s polaroids and Nari was doing her best to collect the photographs before the flew away in the summer wind.

One moment they were at the beach, the next it was her seventeenth birthday where they had decorated the abandoned pool for her with balloons and confetti (Namjoon had bought her a huge bag of lollipops and she had jumped up and down as if he’d given her the world.)

One moment they were laying in the middle of the street watching summer fireworks in the sky (Hoseok cuddled into Jimin when the sound got too loud, pressing his ear to the other’s chest to focus on his friend’s heartbeat instead.)

Another moment, they were loitering in the nearby arcade - watching Jungkook get the top score at a shooter game, and taking goofy pictures in the photo booth (how they managed to all squeeze into the tiny booth was unbelievable; Nari could feel still Namjoon’s elbow jabbing into her ribs while Jimin’s hip bone pressed into her back.)

In a blink, they were lazing around the industrialized jungle by Hoseok’s apartment and talking about Hoseok’s new job at Two Star Burger – which they had just ate at; Jungkook was chewing on his drink’s straw all day despite there being barely anything to drink left in the cup (Nari may have fallen asleep on Seokjin’s shoulder, and he had to carry her back to the car on his back.)

Then in a flash, they were back in school for fall.

“It’s weird without them,” Jungkook mumbled against his palm.

“Yeah,” Nari agreed, her eyes lifted from her notebook to look at the group.

The lunch table felt vacant. School had been in session for a month and a half now, but the table that used to bubble with energy felt empty without the two other men. Seokjin and Hoseok had graduated. However, the energy was different at the table for one important reason.

Yoongi.

Yoongi, the eldest out of the school group now, had his nose in a book. The resident “I don’t care about academics” Yoongi was caring about academics.

“Yah, can you be quiet?” Yoongi muttered out, actually pouting. Not his signature scowl but ‘a plush bottom lip jutting out in frustration’ pout. Between bites of his food, he had been studying. Yes, actually studying. And quite frankly, he hated it. Whoever decided high schoolers needed to know physics was stupid.

“Hush, you need to study,” Nari scolded, pointing to his notebook. “You heard the principal.”

He rolled his eyes begrudgingly.

Yeah, Yoongi wasn’t happy about his current situation. His grades were low enough that unless he got amazing grades this year he wouldn’t be able to graduate. He needed to graduate. He had to graduate. He had to be done with stupid school.

He just hated it.

“Hyung, we can study together after school,” Jungkook offered. He hated seeing the older – and now, eldest at the table – so upset. It wasn’t even the same brooding upset attitude he donned typically. The cool façade of control. No, Yoongi was pouting and grumbling like a child.

Yoongi’s lips quirked a bit at that offer though, making Jungkook feel a wave of pleasant warmth prickle his skin.

Seokjin and Hoseok still managed to visit them in the storage room. They claimed since it was after school hours it didn’t really matter if they were on school property. That was a lie, and she knew it. But she loved her friends so much it didn’t matter as long as they didn’t get caught. Oh, how they had changed her view on the rules of society.

Seokjin had enrolled at the local college though he had often talked about the abroad program in the US. His dad had been pushing for it for months. The more time went by away from Seokjin, the more Nari worried he’d take up the offer his dad consistently presented.

Seokjin didn’t prosper without his friends. He felt distant. It was odd. He was around – he usually was sat beside her or Yoongi in the storage room working on whatever - but he certainly didn’t talk as much as he did a few months ago.

“You alright, oppa?” she had queried, sitting next to him on the floor with a small sigh.

He was working on an essay on his laptop – a laptop far more expensive than what any of them had. Sometimes it was easy to forget how rich Seokjin was with how much he hoarded and penny pinched when they went to the nearby convenience store for snacks. (“Get your own jellies!” echoed in her mind; once she had tried to sneak a few of his jelly worms and he threw a fit like no tomorrow.) But, with a laptop that could easily cost 3,000 dollars, it was a fast reminder how different their lives were at times.

His hand rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Yeah,” he commented, his voice hazy with sleepiness. “I don’t like this course.”

“College is better than high school though, right?” she snorted. Her own focus was split between him and her notebook – per usual.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, his voice whining a bit.

He hadn’t smiled much she noted glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Seokjin didn’t look like himself so sad and tired.

“It’ll get better,” she told him, reassuringly. Her hand went to pat his knee. “Eventually.”

Things would get better, right?

Yoongi hated a lot of things about the world.

Yoongi hated school.

Yoongi hated his dad and his dead mom.

Yoongi hated being told what to do.

Yoongi hated pianos.

Yoongi hated himself.

But there were some things that he loved.

He loved the melody that played in his heart. He loved that whenever they talked he couldn’t hide his gummy smile. He loved that he felt like he could share things with him, showing the brutally painted skin across his ribs. He loved how he could feel him relax when he rested his head on his lap. He loved knowing that he was safe with him. He loved that his hand was warm against his. He loved the fragrance that lingered in the air when their fingers composed against the keys together. He loved how even in the silence his world felt alive with song.

Because of him.

Yoongi hated a lot about the world.

But, with Jungkook, he loved a lot about the world.

“Are you a dog or a cat person?” Nari prompted, leaning back among the pillows of her bed. Her phone was resting on her chest, her earbuds at home in her ears as she shut her eyes.

“I’m obviously a dog person, Nari,” Taehyung’s voice rumbled out through the headphones.

It was becoming a habit now. When she couldn’t manage to sneak out to go hang out with Taehyung, they’d call or facetime.

Tonight, with a facemask on her face, she felt a tumble of nerves to turn on facetime, so she hadn’t. Taehyung had complained a good amount about wanting to see her “dumb face.” But after a while, he conceded.

“I think I’m a cat person,” she commented. “I love dogs but – something about how free a cat is. I mean, think about that one we’ve seen about the streets. That white one. Every time I feel like it’s gotten hurt or hasn’t shown up in a while, he pops up. They’re sly.”

“You’ve got a cat personality,” Taehyung commented after a moment, the words deeper with every exhale of smoke. (She knew he was by the lull in her voice; his voice got this gravelly hum like the ocean’s roar.) “You act like you have nine lives, crazy girl,” he teased, bringing up the old nickname him and Yoongi once used for her.

“Oh, c’mon,” she whined a bit. Why were her ears burning? “You’re being mean. You’re supposed to have the dog personality.”

“Dogs are playful,” he added.

Their conversation went like that for a while longer. Nari couldn’t explain the warmth that tingle at her fingertips when she spoke to him late at night like this. Where anything was a topic from something silly to something serious. Taehyung was comforting to her.

They were laughing; eating the left-overs from Hoseok’s job. They may miss Hoseok’s presence at school, but his new job at the fast-food joint was nice. Especially when they get to mooch off his discount and laze around the restaurant without much fear of getting kicked out. The boys even cleaned up after themselves knowing Hoseok was going to do it if they leave it.

They better clean up after themselves, Nari thought. Taehyung was currently tossing fries into Jungkook’s mouth and missing more than actually making it into his mouth. Grease-soaked French fries were scattered across the white-tiled floor. Nari let out a giggle as Taehyung made a triumphant face as soon as Jungkook caught one, turning to look at her (searching for her approval).

Her form leaned into Jimin in sleepiness. The setting sun made her sleepy. Sunshine flickered through the window panels and painted the restaurant in a golden hue that made her eyelids heavy. And that’s when she noticed it. Jimin hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even focused on Taehyung’s game, usually giggling along with his antics. Jimin’s gaze was distant. His body frozen in his spot. Eyes staring on, despite the sunlight piercing his pupils.

Her hand nudged his ribs.

“You alright?” she asked.

A long pause. His eyes were glassy, his attention not flickering to her.

“Jiminie?” she prodded again.

There was a long pause. He swayed a bit before finally blinking.

“Huh?” he mumbled after a second. Blinking rapidly.

“You alright?” she repeated. Her chin shifted on his shoulder to look at him with concerned brows. Her fingers nudged at his forearm lightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied.

It happened again. He was having more frequent seizures. He knew he was. How he felt lost for a moment; how he couldn’t focus and spaced out easily; how one arm or a leg would be consumed by a TV-static tingle like he hadn’t been using it for a long time.

It scared him.

“Eat some more,” Jimin nudged his fries’ container towards her with his knuckles – with the hand that hadn’t felt numb and full of pins-and-needles. He offered a bright smile her way.

Nari complied, picking up a cold fry to munch on as she remained partially snuggled against his shoulder.

Jimin let a small breath out, swinging his arm around the girl before focusing on Taehyung and Jungkook once more. They were hollering at the first fry to land in Taehyung’s mouth in a while. He tried to smile.

No one could know.

Not even Nari.

“Just talk to her,” Namjoon suggested.

“I can’t, hyung,” Taehyung replied back, his voice a low timbre and cheeks aflame.

“You’ve known her for months, and you still have the crush; it’s not going to go away,” the older commented, leaning back against the brick wall. A hand rose to fix the baseball cap to tilt over his eyes.

Namjoon had thought Taehyung had gotten over the little crush he had on Nari but here the younger was blushing like a schoolboy over a single text message from her.

“Tell her. Ask her on a date. Do something,” the blonde urged.

Taehyung’s lower lip was caught between his teeth as he shook the spray paint can. Ask her on a date. And get rejected. Ruin their friendship. Or she accepts and she sees him as a failure. He couldn’t bring her home to meet his dad and sister. And he knew her mom wouldn’t want her with a guy who gets chased by the police. And what if she didn’t want him?

Taehyung’s mind was going around in indecisive circles.

“I can’t ruin our friendship,” Taehyung voiced. “What would I even say?”

“What’s poppin’, girl?” Namjoon offered.

The dirty look Taehyung leveled towards Namjoon made his answer clear. No way would he say that.

Namjoon sighed, plucking the cigarette from between his teeth. The younger directed his gaze back to his phone, his lips curling into a bashful grin. His cheeks rosy and gleaming in the amber streetlight. Namjoon watched as Taehyung’s eyes curved into half-moons and his hands jittered – he knew it wasn’t from the weed the younger had bought that night. No. All of this was due to one text from Song Nari – he wanted to laugh if it wasn’t so sad.

[ 09:15pm ] nari : I didn’t see you today at school. I missed you!

“You’ve been hanging around those boys for a while now?” her mother commented, leaning a bit into the kitchen counter. She was watching on as her daughter tugged on her boots. It wasn’t too late in the day. The sun was still high enough in the sky that Nari didn’t need to sneak out – something to this day, she was still surprised she did. She knew her parents knew. Her dad threw a fit when he caught her sneaking home at 4 am. But… her grades didn’t falter. She did her chores. She worked hard still. After a while, her parents simply ignored their daughter’s rebellious acts.

“Yeah, tonight we are going to the library.” Surprising, not a lie. Namjoon had been waiting for a book to get released, and it finally was out. She knew Jimin was most likely going to join them as well, loitering around the storage room for far too long earlier. It’d be difficult for him to be able to walk home before dark now. He’d most likely need a ride from Seokjin.

“That’s a first,” her mother noted, raising a brow. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on them.”

It made her brows crinkle a bit. Nari and her mother weren’t extremely close. No, she worked an office job and wasn’t around often. And when she was, she was tired. Both her parents were tired often. But Nari didn’t think they… cared about her friends. Or noticed them.

The last time she remembered her mom talking about her friends was when it was her first year in high school and she mentioned how she hadn’t had a boyfriend yet and how her friend – Jiwoo – was a cute boy.

“What do you mean, Momma?” she asked, tying the laces of her boots finally and leaning back on the wall of the living room.

“They’re a bit different from your other friends.” Her mother commented. “I’ve seen that one boy damaging property; I don’t like it.”

Tae.

Immediately, his name popped into her mind and she pressed her lips together. If her mom knew she had done graffiti too. She took in a soft breath through her nose.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Nari lied.

When had she become a liar?

“They’re fine, mom. I like them a lot.” Nari said. She heard a beep of a car horn from outside. Looking between the blinds, she could see Seokjin’s rumbling car sitting on the curb. Namjoon, Jimin, and Seokjin sat there, chatting among themselves while they waited for her.

“I just want you to be careful,” her mother commented, crossing her arms. Nari hadn’t been paying attention to hear any other words of wisdom. She was scrambling to grab her backpack. “I can tell they are different from you, sweetheart. I don’t your heart to get broken.”

Did she think she was dating one of them? Her brows crinkled a bit but with the thought of the three outside she shook off her mother’s words.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back later. Love you,” Nari waved her mother’s concerns off with a bright smile before she was braving the cold to the truck.

Jungkook met her every day at the crossroads. She would rather walk with him than drive alone at this rate. Besides, it was a highlight of her day; the more she didn’t see the others as frequently, she cherished these moments. After all, their bonfire nights and parties had slowed. Once they were every weekend and occasionally twice a week, now the last time they all had seen one another was a month ago.

She missed them. So, she decided she’d take any time she could to be around them. It was this desperate feeling, like a child clinging to their parent’s leg as they walked to kindergarten for the first time. Reluctancy to change.

December was rapidly approaching – maybe that was the reason. The chill in the air hinted at snow soon, making the pair walk closer together. Jungkook’s green jacket was oversized for his lean frame and only highlighted the cold rosy hue that pinched at his cheekbones and nose. However, it also brought out the pallor of his skin more. Purple kissed under his eyes.

“Are you getting sleep?” she checked, eyeing his tired appearance.

Jungkook nodded sleepily.

“You better be,” she threatened, wrapping her arm around his arm, friendly-like. “Aish, it’s cold.”

He nodded along. Most mornings Jungkook would stumble to school, barely awake. Without Nari beside him to keep him on track, he’d stumble into a pole due to his sleepy eyes.

“I hope it snows,” Jungkook revealed, offering a sleepy smile. “I miss the snow.” His gaze tilted up to look at the sky. When it snowed, he was reminded of better days. Sunlit bright snow, blue skies with fluffy white clouds, a smiling mom and dad, hot chocolate mugs warming up too-cold fingers.

The sky was grey again he noted.

If anyone at school had asked around about Nari (which they didn’t), they’d mention Jungkook, the underclassman that stuck to her hip. It had been months since their tentative first conversations where Jungkook could barely stutter out a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ reply to her. Now, the pair could talk easily or embrace the comfortable silence without it feeling awkward or forced.

There had been too many weekends where Jungkook had ended up on her doorstep. His hair windswept asking if she could hang out suddenly. He never revealed why he decided to appear even when she tempted him with banana milk as compensation. Regardless, his presence was a comfort. He had taken control of the video game console her sister had in her room. (It had been collecting dust, so he said Nari should thank him for making sure it worked.) The sounds of a shooter game accompanied her studying now. She’s surprised her bed didn’t have a Jungkook-shaped indent from how often he’d sit criss-crossed, playing his games, there.

Their friendship blossomed during these months. Jungkook often was sat between two people at lunch – Yoongi on one side of him and Nari on the other side. He was happy enough. He could ignore the ache of his bruises on his ribs. Endure a bit more of the bitter winter for the warmth of his friends beside him. It was a quiet euphoria – a feeling that he barely could identify at the time, but later he knew that he couldn’t live without it.

Namjoon had begun to become a wallflower. He faded into the background easily. He was quieter than ever – even with the ever-talkative Taehyung by his side. His eyes were ringed with exhaustion; he wore the same clothes two days in a row; he was picking up extra shifts at his job(s). The plural being a secret from the others that sat around the lunch table beside him.

[ 12:04 pm ] nari : hey.

Despite that, Nari found a way to drag his tired eyes away from his greying surroundings. Picking up his cracked phone, he typed a reply, his eyes lazily lifting to look at her, a brow raising.

[ 12:04 pm ] joonie : why are you texting when you are sitting right in front of me?

She offered a bashful smile towards the tall bleach blonde before her gaze flickered over to Taehyung who was currently enrapturing the other younger members of the group – Jungkook and Jimin – in his story about the police chase he escaped from the night before.

[ 12:05 pm ] nari : you looked sleepy and besides…

[ 12:05 pm ] nari : tae is talking. Which means the lunch hour will be full of his stories and not us talking.

Her smile grew into a playful smirk before nodding at Taehyung’s story as his eyes met hers. Her attention was easily split between her phone and the rebellious storyteller. The tired Namjoon was not even sure what story Taehyung was telling currently.

[ 12:07 pm ] nari : you okay?

[ 12:07 pm ] joonie : just tired.

[ 12:07 pm ] nari : don’t go out with tae tonight then. I’ll go?

He let out a breath through his nose. He forgot he promised Taehyung he was going to go spray painting with him this evening. He’d been so focused on other things. His dad had been showing signs of improvement – or so said the doctors; they were talking about moving him to a different hospital – a better one where he could have more of this treatment round the clock. He had to be there for his mom. He couldn’t let her make this decision alone. Not when she had been so heart-wrecked this week.

And his little brother, Namhyun, was struggling in his classes. Namjoon had opened his report card on accident last month and saw the latest results; he hid them from his mom, knowing it would only cause more stress. How could Namjoon help? He had to help.

He had to do something.

He had to find control in his life.

[ 12:09 pm ] joonie : thanks. I owe you.

[ 12:10 pm ] nari : lol. just get some sleep, joonie.

The text was followed by a string of purple hearts.

It made him smile. He wished he could give her that wish. He knew he wouldn’t.

Namjoon let out a yawn. Maybe he could sleep in Literature class; he had an A in it anyways.

“Can’t you just come and play video games like Jungkook does?” Nari lightly complained as she wrapped her scarf closer to her neck. The night was cold; her toes were already freezing.

“The snow means less police,” Taehyung told her as he walked ahead of her. He wasn’t dressed for this weather. and it made Nari worry. His favorite leather jacket was over his shoulders; gloves were over his fingertips, but that was it. He wasn’t even wearing a scarf or hat.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she told him, brows furrowing.

He was being stupid – reckless.

“I’m tough,” he preened, looking over his shoulder and winking at her before he noticed how distanced they were. Crunching snow accompanied his low laughter as he hurried back beside her. His hand took hers, interlacing their fingers before tugging her along. “We won’t stay out long, Nari-ah.” Taehyung promised.

The lack of police was relieving. Taehyung had been causing more trouble recently. He hated going home. He hated seeing his bastard of a father and his bruised sister. He hated how it made him feel like he couldn’t do anything. Powerless. Running away with the smell of paint on his fingertips and the rush of adrenaline in his veins made him feel something. Something. He didn’t know what. It was an echo of living. A stain of euphoria. Fleeting.

He liked chasing that feeling.

If he ran, the police would follow.

Taehyung had been lucky in the past, but now he’d been caught enough that the police was starting to notice his handiwork around town. If it was him and Namjoon spray painting tonight, he knew Namjoon could handle himself – could get himself out of trouble. Namjoon was clever… responsible. (Taehyung wanted to say brotherly.)

Nari… Nari was good. Nari didn’t deserve being on the cops’ radar because of who she hung around – because a boy had a crush on her and dragged her along to his personal art museum on the streets.

He liked the snow, because it meant safety.

Safety for her.

Jungkook’s nose was bruised one Thursday. The thing was an ugly red and purple color, daintily covered up by a band-aid. The bruise leaked out from the sides regardless of the band-aid’s coverage and even tinted the corners of his eyes. He was lucky his nose hadn’t broken.

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon was the one to exclaim at the first sight of Jungkook. His large hands almost grabbed Jungkook’s face to get a good look at the younger’s injuries. Nari was right behind Namjoon, brows pursed close together.

“Some kids caught me after school,” Jungkook mumbled. A thumb prodded the skin gently making the maknae flinch. “Nari,” he whined softly at her touch.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“So, who do I need to go beat up?” Yoongi commented, walking up besides the other three. His hands were tucked into his pockets, almost casually - if it weren’t for the deadly look in his eyes, they’d think he’d be talking about the weather.

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasped, head ducking a bit. “Its fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing really.”

Namjoon shared a look with Yoongi.

“I’m going to go get an ice bag from the nurse,” Nari claimed, already ready to care for the youngest. She was quick to leave, ditching her backpack with Yoongi who reluctantly held the pastel pink thing in his tight angry grasp.

Jungkook’s shoulders sagged a bit more at her concern; he was fine. He was fine. (He wasn’t used to this attention.) Namjoon threw his arm around the younger’s shoulder reassuringly as they entered the school’s main hallway, walking towards the cafeteria for lunch.

Taehyung eventually joined them, moving away from his lockers. If they watched closely, he was shoving a manga book into it before walking besides them. He commented on the younger’s injuries with a furrowed brow before quickly going into a conversation about his latest art work with Namjoon.

It left Yoongi and Jungkook walking side by side behind the duo.

“Hang out with me after school, Kook,” Yoongi said, no, commanded. “We can walk home together.”

No one was going to beat him up on his watch, Yoongi promised.

He’d protect him.

The snow began to melt now. Her ears didn’t need warm muffs to keep them from turning red. Jungkook had begun to shed the oversized green jacket; the others began to abandon their leather jackets or windbreakers for hoodies again – including Nari. Spring was coming.

The storage room had become less and less housed by the group. Jungkook still insisted on dragging her to it.

“Kookie,” her fond nickname for him left her lips. “Why can’t we just go to the library?”

“I like the storage room better. Hyung’s snacks are still there,” he excused.

Sitting in the afternoon rays like a cat, Jungkook ate the cheese puffs Seokjin had stored away in the room. Nari began her studies, getting lost in the countless papers she filled her far too active mind with.

A knock on the door startled the pair of them an hour later. No one ever came over here anymore.

“It’s me!” Jimin’s head popped in.

“Jimin-sshi,” Jungkook let out, the name leaving his lips akin to a curse.

The black-haired boy let out a laugh before walking inside with a bright smile. Jimin felt bubbling today, and it made her smile fondly.

“Hobi-hyung has work tonight; I thought we could hang out instead!” he prompted. It was hopeful. Jimin always had this hopeful air – though, like a flame, it was easily put out. She hated that she had to.

Nari shook her head, and his smile depleted.

“I need to study, Jiminie.” Nari prompted.

Nari had been working hard. Her job at the restaurant had disappeared soon after she met the boys. Not of her own volition, of course. The shop closed. Something about not enough funds. Nari had been job hunting – more than once Hoseok had joked about her working beside him at the fast-food chain. Honestly, it was starting to look more and more appealing as her money began to trickle from her fingertips.

Alongside that, she had been writing papers non-stop. She had to get into a university. She had to. Her scholarship was right at her fingertips. Her grades were looking promising. She could do this. She had to do this.

“Can we hang out, Jungkookie?” Jimin asked next, walking over to him.

“Sure.” Jungkook smiled a bit unsurely.

Jimin and Jungkook sat in the light, popping snacks into their mouths with cheese-dusted fingers. Their conversation was slow and clumsy. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was accompanied by many silences. The pair weren’t exactly close. Jimin’s occasional shift to timidness and Jungkook’s natural shyness led to a clash in personalities. A stand still of conversation with neither brave enough to continue the topic. It was better when the others were around to lead. Still, they continued on, munching on snacks and talking low. Nari’s gaze would flicker up occasionally to eye the two.

The pair were peering down at Jungkook’s sketchbook.

“Wow,” Jimin gasped out lightly.

At a closer look, she saw they were looking at artwork. Sketches done in graphite and charcoal. Drawn dark eyes staring back at them eerily. Birds drawn in chicken scratch lines that seemed to jump off the paper.

“You’re really good,” the older commented, tilting his head at Jungkook in appreciation.

Nari didn’t know Jungkook drew.

Sometimes Hoseok feels utterly alone. The group comes around weekly. The group chat is active – at least from the younger members. He shouldn’t feel this way. He should feel loved. Cared about. Yet…

Hoseok stared in the mirror. His eyes lacked warmth. His face was pallid, grey in the bad lighting of his apartment’s bathroom.

Shouldn’t he feel accomplished? He was living in an apartment he paid rent for. Alone. He was working. Alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Why was he left alone?

He grabbed his meds.

Takes two oblong pills out. Places them on his tongue. Swallows.

The apartment felt quiet.

He missed the orphanage.

He missed the group.

He missed how things were.

Still, his eyes raised to look in the mirror again. He forced a smile. It looked painful. Hell, if he was honest, it felt painful.

Maybe things will change with seasons.

“I like someone,” Jungkook said softly as the pair walked by the river. His rubber-soled feet were skidding against the cement ground.

“Really?” Nari beamed, brightly. This was news to her. Jungkook was shy – so the fact he was admitting he liked someone was a miracle. “Who is it?” Her mind was flickering through potential partners. Was it that girl he saw by their lockers the other day? Or maybe Bora from his Literature class? Her excitement was electric, bubbling from her form.

“I—” he froze up, hand going to fiddle with the back of his neck. His throat closing up a bit.

“Do I know them?” she asked, tugging on her backpack straps. “Is it that girl you have that group assignment with – Sumi?”

“No!” He blurted out, wide eyed. “No.” he clarified. “You know him—them – her?” Jungkook stumbled over his words, flushing a bright red when he realized what he said.

Panic clung to his lungs. His eyes were like a doe’s as he diverted his gaze from her, staring at the ground.

Him. Her eyes widened a bit more. A him. She didn’t know Jungkook liked hims. Blinking, she offered a soft smile.

“So, I know him,” she repeated, nodding calmly. She hoped her calm attitude would calm him. His energy was both static and anxious. He often froze when he was scared. Her elbow nudged him. “Do we see him a lot?”

Jungkook was stammering now, his cheeks red.

Nari couldn’t help teasing the younger.

“I mean, I could start guessing boys,” she stated, singing the words out a bit.

“Noona,” Jungkook whined out, a hand going to rub at the back of his neck.

“I’m teasing, JK,” she laughed.

Nari let the subject drop then though the twinkle in her eye didn’t leave.

Jungkook had a crush.

He was handsome.

She had never really noticed how handsome he was.

It wasn’t a general handsomeness. Like Nari knew Seokjin was handsome. With Taehyung, it was different.

His shaggy hair looked so soft, and she knew it was soft; she has spent time running her fingers through it. (But she does that to Jungkook and Jimin too. Hoseok too!)

His eyes. They were beautiful. (They were brown. How could brown eyes feel so beautiful? It felt like there were different colors, stars locked away in the glimmer of the deep brown.)

His lips. They were so plump. But not like Jimin’s lips. No, Taehyung’s were different. Soft, but harsh. Smiling roundly, but often pouting at her or smirking at her. Kissable.

“Nari?”

Namjoon’s voice broke her out of her stupor.

“What?” she sputtered out, tearing her gaze away from Taehyung.

“You dozing off there?” Hoseok laughed out, shoulder nudging hers softly.

“Y-yeah!” she lied, a hand going to push her hair away from her face. Her nails scraped at her scalp.

She hoped her ears weren’t red.

Nari had a crush.

“Just because you’ve graduated, doesn’t mean our agreement doesn’t still stand,” the principal commented to Seokjin, who was looking out the window.

Guilt clung to his bones. For months, he had been giving the principal tabs on the group. When they skipped, where Namjoon and Yoongi smoked on campus, and other such things. He had even told the principal about the bonfire nights.

All under one agreement: it’s the right thing to do. You’re doing a good thing telling the authorities about anything wrong. Anything. Everything.

He was a spy.

“I-“ Seokjin started.

“You know, I’m quite good friends with the Dean over at your college,” the principal commented, his hand shifting a “Principal of the Year” award resting on his table. “And your father, you know, I’m sure he’d be disappointed if anything were to happen to his great son’s educational record. He wants you to go into his company, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, sir,” Seokjin murmured, head still looking towards the window. His plump lips were barely moving with his words. Subservient. Meek even.

“Then… I’m sure he wouldn’t want any hassle with pauses in your education, would he?”

Just like those years ago when he transferred, the principal wasn’t smiling, and Seokjin could feel the ghostly grip of his father’s hand on his shoulder once again.

“Right, sir.” Seokjin replied, his gaze finally moving to rest on the principal.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Now, here’s my phone number, son. Just report anything you think is important,” the principal placed the piece of paper on the desk. “We’ve caught that Jungkook kid getting into fights recently, thanks to your help. We will do great work together.”

Seokjin nodded quietly.

She found Yoongi in the one place she never thought she’d see him willingly. The library.

“This is what you’ve come to,” she teased relentlessly, sitting down beside him. Her bag clattered to the table next to his textbook.

Yoongi – with his fading blonde hair – look up at her from his notebook a look of cold annoyance in his eyes. He didn’t retort.

She knew him well enough by now though that it made her giggle. He was still fuming silently about the state of his grades and graduation status. His silences varied in mood that she could read them as easily as a mood ring. (Although, sometimes a mood ring was not always real.)

“I hate school. It’s here to make us into drones, so we can work ‘til we die. Don’t know what to do with your life? Go to school and get your head stuffed with things that they say is true.” He grumbled.

Nari raised her brows at that.

“Wise words from you,” she replied.

“I know.” He huffed, plopping his chin down on the textbook in front of him. His lips pouted in frustration. “We learned about capitalistic societies today.” He added.

“Makes sense,” she laughed.

Pulling out her own notebooks, she kept Yoongi in her peripheral. He hadn’t moved his chin from the book, his cat-like eyes drooping in sleepiness – or was it annoyance? She knew Yoongi was clever in his own way. He knew a lot of obscure things. She knew he liked learning regardless of what anyone or what any grade said about him. He just didn’t like being forced to learn. He truly was an independent soul.

Her eyes warmed at a thought. Her hand dug through her pink backpack, through jelly candy bags that she kept for Seokjin, through the spare pieces of notebook paper she tore out, through pens and junk that she kept loose in her bag since her pencil bag got stolen the last time Taehyung had tugged her away from her studies and made her leave her stuff behind – until she pulled out a singular lollipop.

A smile that was too mischievous for her own good was painted on her lips as she nudged the candy towards the older boy. She wanted to see him laugh, see him scowl, something than this pouting mess of a begrudgingly studious boy he became.

When his long fingers reached out and unwrapped the sour apple candy, Nari’s mouth fell into a soft “o”.

“It must be bad,” Nari empathized as he popped the lollipop into his mouth.

He gave the candy a suck.

“Fuck school,” he said blankly.

“You’re almost done, Yoongi,” she comforted, a hand rubbing his shoulder softly.

He leaned towards her embrace, head leaning into her shoulder. His fried hair brushed against her skin, scratchy against her honeyed skin.

“You didn’t have any other flavors than sour apple?” Yoongi commented with a scrunched-up face – hidden from her view.

That made her giggle.

“I’ll give you a better flavor next time.” She joked, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders to give him a squeeze. He made a grumble of a whine. “We should head out soon; it’s almost sunset. You wouldn’t get caught staying at school into the evening.” She was teasing the rebel.

“After this year, you bet your ass I won’t ever again.”

Jimin had joined Jungkook and Nari on their morning walk to school. He lived further than the rest of the group, but, somehow, he was in front of Nari’s door that morning, his clothes a bit too cold to the touch for her to feel reassured at his words.

“I was only waiting for a while! I wanted to join you guys. Please?”

Nari had a hard time saying no to Jimin when he gave her puppy dog eyes.

So, the trio walked side by side as the sun shined in the early morning. She had grabbed an apple from her kitchen for Jimin, so he wouldn’t be left out when Jungkook appeared with two bagels – one for himself and one for her – like usual.

Jimin munched on his ruby red apple happily as they walked along. Conversation was light. Jungkook talked about a new game he bought – it was a few years old, but he still rambled on excitedly between yawns; Jimin smiled and laughed at the right moments.

He had hoped this would make him feel better. Walking beside his friends instead of the cold aura of his parents as they drove him to school, disappointment lingering in the air when their eyes didn’t meet his face. The hour drive felt more like torture. Surely, his friends would be better.

The smell of flowers in the air made his stomach churn; the apple in his hand tasted like ash. He felt hollow. He didn’t feel better. And his friends kept talking and talking and talking. They didn’t notice how he stopped talking, how he felt clammy, how his eyes felt blurred, how their words felt distant.

“The Arboretum smells so nice. I’ve been wanting to go for a while now. I heard they have these super rare flowers there,” Nari commented, catching a waft of the cherry blossoms in the air. “I haven’t gone there since I was a kid.”

Jimin’s breath was uneasy.

“Since when did you like flowers, noona?” Jungkook commented.

His nails dug into the apple in his hand.

“I don’t know. It’s the season,” she replied with a shrug before biting into her bagel.

He pierced the flesh, nectar dripping down his fingers.

Jimin swallowed roughly.

He didn’t like the walk he decided.

“Jin?” Nari let out, confused.

Why was Seokjin at the school this late? She had just left Yoongi’s side in the storage room to grab a snack from the snack machine when she spotted him. The tall college student was walking down the hall. Away from the principal’s office.

“Nari!” Her name came out in a stumbled mess. His eyes widening a bit. His full lips fell open as his breath left him. Never before on his reports with the principal had he run into his friends afterwards.

It startled him. Made his stomach flip in an unpleasant way.

How couldn’t it when he was just telling the principal about where Taehyung was tagging his art or that the group snuck on campus to sit in the storage room two weeks ago at midnight? Or that Yoongi was in another fight with some students the other day?

“What’re you doing here, oppa?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine curiosity. “Did you text the group chat?”

Her hand reached for her phone that rested in her hoodie’s pocket.

“No!” Seokjin exclaimed. “No! I wanted to see if you guys were here still?”

Seokjin had always been a bad liar.

Nari, however, wasn’t always a good listener – especially when her mind was focused on finishing an essay. Her stress was up. Sometimes when she got like this it felt like cotton was in her ears. All she could think about was finishing the assignment – if she doesn’t, she’d get an F; if she gets an F, she could fail the class; then she couldn’t get a scholarship for university. Then she’d be stuck at home, trying to get married or a job at a convenience store for the rest of her life. Nari didn’t want that. Wait, hadn’t Seokjin been talking?

“Oh, we are still here. Yoongi and Jimin are here.” A pause. “You never come in that way,” she commented before turning towards the storage room. “Come on, I have the jelly candies you like. I’ve been eating them all afternoon.”

Seokjin let out an anxious giggle, one that sounded forced as he joined her by her side.

“Sounds good. How have you been?” he asked as the pair began to walk towards their storage room.

His stomach still tumbled in anxiety. He was almost caught… but wasn’t telling authorities what was wrong a good thing? His dad from day one had told him to tell the principal anything that he saw. He was a good kid after all.

A good person.

Namjoon’s apartment was small for the four-person family. But it was well-loved. Nari could see that as she was ushered in. It was a bit messy with newspapers and coupons scattered around and jackets on backs of couches and chairs.

“It’ll only take a minute,” Namjoon promised. Originally, Namjoon and Nari was going to head to work – well, his work as an ads distributor when he said he forgot something for work at his place. “Make yourself at home.”

Nari nodded, looking at the few photographs scattered about. A young woman and a young man in a wheelchair. He looked like Namjoon she noted. There were a handful of baby photos, too. A tiny Namjoon and even tinier little brother.

Nari didn’t know Namjoon had a brother.

She didn’t know much about his family either.

“I’ll go later, okay, just rest,” she could hear Namjoon talking in the other room. The walls were apparently very thin. Nari’s gaze shifted, trying not to eavesdrop. “I know, Mom, I know. Namhyun will be home soon. Please take some medicine. This is the third migraine in a week.”

His words were muffled as she heard shuffling around. Nari’s gaze went to settle on some books on the table. Philosophy books. A medical journal. Into the Magic Shop. Demian. The Ones Who Walk Away From Omela.

Interesting. Nari wondered briefly if they were Namjoon’s preferences or his parents’. Beside the table, on its own little pedestal, was a bonsai tree. Well cared for and flourishing.

“It’s been in my family for a long time,” Namjoon laughed lightly, suddenly behind her again. His deep voice made her jump. “We thought it was going to die when we were moving.”

(When it was thrown out by the landowner of their last apartment alongside their other belongings. The branches were twisted and broken in places when they finally returned home to the locked apartment; the note on the door that stated their overdue rent had forced the landowner’s hand hadn’t made sense to the young Namjoon who had been scrambling to find his own belongings in the heap.)

“It just can’t seem to die.” He rolled his eyes.

“You sound like you want it to,” Nari scoffed, looking back at him.

His brow had a wrinkle, but he was still smiling lightly at her.

“It’s a lot of maintenance,” Namjoon whined, sounding like the teenager he truly was under his premature wrinkles and maturity he wore.

“Whatever,” she scoffed lightly. “You good to go? Your shift starts soon.”

He waved the advertisements that he supposedly had forgotten at home.

“Ready.” Namjoon smiled, his dimple popping against his honey skin. “Let’s go.”

Hoseok was raising his brows at her, conspiringly.

She had just waved off Taehyung in front of the burger joint moments ago. Taehyung had been so sleepy all day. Even if he begrudgingly joined her at the restaurant, his head was snuggled into her shoulder the entire time. He’d been staying out later and later. Fine lavender circles were forming under his eyes, clashing with his warm skin.

It had taken her thirty minutes to wake him up. Soft calls of his name that only made him hum in his sleep, his lips mouthing at her shoulder unconsciously. Shaking his shoulder which only made him cling to her like a koala bear. Each attempt made her cheeks flush, her heart race just a bit more. He was so cute. So cute. But she couldn’t-shouldn’t-wouldn’t. He was her best friend. Best. Friend.

Finally, she jabbed his ribs, and it seemed to immediately shock him awake, jumping further into her embrace – as if shielding her from something.

After encouraging him on heading home to sleep, with much pouting and eventually pleading, he complied and went home.

And now, Hoseok was staring at her with an evil glint in his dark eyes.

“Hobi?”

He raised his brows again.

“What?” Nari stuttered out, crossing her arms.

“What was that, blushy?” he teased.

Her cheeks immediately flushed.

“What are you talking about?” she turned to look at the now-abandoned booth. She scooted in, avoiding her friend’s gaze to pick up her backpack. She was quick to begin to shove her notebook and other school supplies into the bag.

“Don’t do that. I’m not dumb, Nari. I grew up with countless brothers and sisters,” Hoseok continued, leaning forward on the counter.

“You like Taehyung.”

Hearing someone say it out loud made her stomach do a somersault. The blood in her veins picked up speed. Her fingertips tingled with adrenaline.

“I—I don’t know,” Nari muttered out. Turning now to focus on other things at the table. Trash. Taehyung and her shared fries earlier. She picked up the empty, grease-stained bag.

“Riri,” he whined out, his voice high pitched in a teasing manner.

“I don’t know, Hobi!” she exclaimed, her words tumbling over one another as she walked over to the trash can. “I—I like him like I like all of you.”

“You don’t blush when Jimin cuddles into you.” He pointed out. “Or Jungkook.”

“I wasn’t blushing,” she countered, a hand rubbing at her neck.

“Riri,” he sighed out, tilting his head back. His hands pressed into the counter in exhaustion at her denial.

“It’s-it’s just a crush! He’s cute! And I like… his face.”

“His face,” Hoseok repeated.

“His personality, too,” she mumbled

“You like him!”

Nari really was all bark, no bite, because as soon as Hoseok said that she dramatically fell into the booth and curled up.

“I don’t know, maybe!” she cried out. “But he’s my best friend.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok commented, mildly offended.

“One! One of my best friends!” she clarified. “And I can’t fall for my best friend. He’s my friend!”

“So, what are you gonna do? Just keep blushing around him?” he laughed lightly.

Nari didn’t have an answer as she buried her face in her palms.

Jungkook sat there that night in his rickety bed. His bruises ached, but he couldn’t wipe the bunny like smile off his face. He scrambled up to grab it again. It wasn’t anything seemingly special. A plaid button up, a red and yellowed white color. Worn and comfy. There was a burnt hole in the corner of the sleeve. From a cigarette’s butt.

It didn’t smell like smoke, not really.

When Jungkook slung his arms through it and tugged it up his shoulders, it didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. It smelled like Yoongi.

Safe, warm, musty. His cologne lingered, a woodsy smell. Jungkook’s cheeks warmed as he huddled more into the fabric. His hands tugged it close, as if it were Yoongi hugging him close.

Earlier that day, Yoongi had shed the article of clothing from his shoulders when Jungkook had shivered on their walk by the river. He hadn’t even needed to say anything. Yoongi noticed. Yoongi noticed everything.

“You’re freezing, Kook,” Yoongi mumbled as he handed the button up to the other.

It wasn’t comparable to a jacket, but Yoongi was always warm. So warm.

Safe.

Jungkook had felt safe when Yoongi then reached for his hand to interlace their fingers.

A week later, they finally had a bonfire night. It was their first bonfire night in months. However, they were missing one person – Namjoon. He had sent a last-minute text to the group chat:

[ 10:15pm ] joonie : cant make it. have a bottle for me.

The missing member was palpable. The flow was rocky – though many thought it was simply because it had been a while since they all have been together. Taehyung still thought it felt like a ghost was with them – he kept looking for Namjoon, turning his head while he laughed at something Hoseok said.

Alongside that, the atmosphere felt funny. Seokjin wasn’t filming like he used to. Instead, he was nursing his bottle and remaining quiet. A rarity for the loud mouth eldest. It was enough for Jimin to notice and glance at Hoseok with a raised brow. Neither boy knew much.

As the night went on, the group discussed all sorts of things. Yoongi lamented the fact he was studying so hard still. Jungkook cooed up at him from his spot, resting his head against the elder’s lap. It made Yoongi’s gummy smile appear. In fact, Nari noted that she hadn’t seen Yoongi look that happy… ever. It made her smile even as Taehyung swooped in and stole her bottle of soju with an “I’ll finish that.”

Hoseok – who was all grins and laughter like usual – told the group about his interest in a dance studio he saw a sign for. It was Taehyung who teased the older man about his moves. Which ended up in the two drunkenly dancing off to a song Jungkook picked from the sidelines – while Jimin filmed it on his phone. Nari giggled, leaning into the smaller man. Her head rested against his jacketed shoulder as she watched from his phone’s screen. Hoseok’s moves were highlighted – sharp even in his drunken state; Jimin seemed to favor Hobi, zooming in on the sunshine-y man.

“I’ll join you at the studio, hyungie,” Jimin called out. “TaeTae doesn’t have the moves.”

“I have moves,” Taehyung complained lightly as he plopped down beside Nari. His warm figure tugged at the blanket Nari had on her lap– the one stained in red spray paint. “Share.” He commanded, pouting at her.

She relented easily. How could she saw no to his pretty pout? It made butterflies tickle at her ribs. It wasn’t long before he began to wrap his limbs around her, cocooning her close to him.

Anytime this happened she hoped he couldn’t hear her racing heart. Why was Taehyung doing this so different compared to when Jungkook or Jimin snuggled up to her? It made her skin feel on fire.

“Seokjin-oppa, take a photo so we can send it to Namjoonie and tell him we miss him!” the lone girl prompted, trying to distract herself from the warmth of Taehyung’s breath on her neck.

Namjoon didn’t reply to the sweet message that Seokjin had sent – using the words Nari encouraged sleepily from beside Jimin and Taehyung.

Seokjin and Nari hadn’t hung out alone in ages. Before he had graduated, they were study buddies or carpool pals. Often trading snacks while they sat in the library or storage room or car.

While he loved snacks – and even studying - Seokjin felt most free when driving. He felt like he could get away. Away from family, school, responsibilities, lies. Away from everything. He was more of the racer compared to the others. Hell, that was why he was the get-away driver back when the boys caused havoc. He was fast and good behind the wheel.

So, when Nari voiced feeling weighed down by school work the other day in the group chat, Seokjin had pulled up the school and grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her from the storage room.

“Where are we going?” Nari had prompted settling into the passenger seat. He had shoved her favorite soda – watermelon soda - into her grasp – something he had learned after sitting beside her in one of 2 Star Burger’s booths and getting her favorite drink knocked into his lap by Namjoon.

“Anywhere,” Seokjin supplied.

For hours, they simply drove. His nice leathered seats were comfy. The air conditioning was cool enough and the music was soft enough they could talk.

“Why are you stressed?” Seokjin finally queried about two hours into the drive.

“I—I don’t know. I just am,” she sighed out, furrowing into the seat. Her feet kicked up onto the seat as well.

“No feet on the leather,” he half-scolded, slapping at her knee.

A whine left her throat.

“Hey,” he whined back before his hand returned to the wheel. “C’mon, talk to me.”

Seokjin and Nari had the ability to just… talk. Somehow, even among the pretty lies and covering up of their true minds and feelings, they’d hear the truth. Like when Seokjin told her about his mother’s death. Seokjin and Nari were oddly in tune with one another. Like passing ships in the night.

“I’m… scared I won’t get into college,” she commented, picking at her jeans’ fibers.

“Why? You’re smart,” Seokjin replied, his gaze didn’t move from the road. It was almost more freeing. Not being watched while baring your worries.

“I--- don’t know,” she stuttered.

His hand moved to fix the polaroid, the one of them at the beach taken by the driver himself, hanging on the rearview mirror.

“You sound like you’re going in circles,” he teased softly. “But, you know somewhere why you’re feeling that way. I won’t judge you, Nari.”

It was a gentle reassurance. One that she knew was true. Despite his bright exterior with whines and occasional nagging, Seokjin was quite neutral. He didn’t like conflict. He hated seeing her like this. Worried, crumpled into herself with anxiety.

“I need a scholarship badly,” Nari mumbled, finally. She hadn’t told any of them about this. Not even Taehyung. “I need one so I can go to college. My--- Home… Money isn’t ready like—” she sighed deeply through her nose.

A hand went to rub at her face, the tension in her jaw making her cheeks feel achy and heavy. Her free hand though was caught by Seokjin’s.

“You’ll get one,” he hummed out. “If you didn’t, I’d be shocked.” He let out a gentle laugh before his gaze flickered to hers as they reached a stop light. “Nari, your worries are valid, but I think you’re so good at school. Unless you completely stop trying, you’re going to get an offer from the college you’re looking at.”

His thumb brushed over her knuckles softly.

“Okay?” he hummed.

Her lips quirked up on one side, a half smile or a half frown. “I guess.”

“Hey, isn’t this your favorite song? Hoseok was blasting it the other night at 2 Star,” he teased as he heard the tinkling tune of a pop song that was popular at the moment. It was some boy band she liked. She gave a soft smile as he turned it up, fingers on the dial immediately.

And like that, Seokjin did all he could to make her smile. Singing loudly, his voice cracking at random moments, Seokjin made a fool of himself for her. Because seeing her sad smile hurt.

Maybe it was guilt.

Namjoon had missed the last few days of school. Nari had texted each day. A simple ‘hey’ and she got no reply.

“What’s up with Joonie?” she asked Taehyung through Facetime, flopping back on her bed. Nari tucked her phone against her pillow as she turned on her hip to look at Taehyung through the screen.

“I don’t think anything’s up, Nari,” he commented.

Nari sighed, her lips forming a slight pout that Taehyung wished he could kiss. His gaze flickered from the screen of his phone as he leaned back on the bus stop’s seat. He couldn’t think that. She’s his best friend. Best. Friend. No. Kissing.

“He’s not at school. You’d know if you stopped ditching,” Nari half-scolded. “And he hasn’t answered my texts or anything in the group chat.”

“That’s because the group chat is Jungkookie sending memes, and Hobi-hyung sending too many emojis.” Taehyung laughed. “And you never answer in the group chat as much as you should.”

“I text you guys individually!” Nari defended.

“I thought you only did that for me. I was special,” he joked.

You are. She wanted to tell him.

She smiled lightly, chuckles leaving her throat in a soft hum before burying her face in her pillow, eyes and nose scrunched up. Taehyung took in the sight with a fondness.

“In all seriousness, can you text him, too?” she asked after a moment before her eyes flickered open to peer up at him.

He pressed his lips together.

“Fine.” She was overreacting. Namjoon was fine. “You owe me.”

“I’ll buy you ramyeon,” she hummed.

“Deal.” It was a quick reply that made her giggle.

She didn’t mean to find out. Nari had gotten tired of studying in the library. When she walked to the storage room, she thought no one would be there. It was nearing five pm. On a Friday. But she was wrong. The door was barely open a crack. The melody of a tune playing. It made her smile. Yoongi. She hadn’t seen him in a few days. It’d be nice to catch up.

“Can I help?” she heard another voice. A familiar voice. “Hyung?”

Her shoulder pressed to the wall beside the barely open door. Jungkook and Yoongi. Yoongi was playing music in front of Jungkook too! It wasn’t jealousy that flooded her veins but happiness. Yoongi was becoming more comfortable.

The music began again. This time a bit sloppily. Untrained hands danced over the keys. A melody she remembered hearing Yoongi play over and over like it was a bird’s call. Licking her lips, she peered through the crack. She knew she shouldn’t but her own curiosity was itching at her fingertips. Yoongi’s long fingers guided Jungkook’s over the keys slowly but surely. Their forms were close. A hum of the last key was in the air, fingers intertwining soon after. She caught Yoongi pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s flushed cheek.

Her eyes widened. A hand clasped over her mouth as she pressed her back fully to the wall in hopes they didn’t see her. She wanted to screech. Nari quickly scurried away on tip toes, hoping her shoes weren’t making audible noise against the linoleum now that the music had stopped. Nari could hear Jungkook’s nervous stutters and the warm comforting reassurances from Yoongi. She even heard a soft wet kissing noise.

As soon as she was outside, she let out an excited noise something between a shriek and giggle.

Yoongi and Jungkook were… dating? Together?

He kissed him! Yoongi kissed Jungkook!

Her friends were dating!

Oh my gosh, Yoongi was the one Jungkook had a crush on. He was the HIM!

Nari was beyond happy for them. And she was bubbling with energy. She wished she could tell someone – celebrate for her friends’ happiness.

She wanted to tell anyone.

But she couldn’t – especially when she saw it without them knowing. Fuck.

Fuck.

What does she do now!?

#yoongi x jungkook #taehyung x oc #seokjin x oc #hyyh au #bts hyyh #bts hyyh fanfic #bts fanfic #bts hurt/comfort

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

the way it was - chapter 32

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

yes you'll be in my heart

from this day on now and forever more

The day the newest member of the Mustang household was born into the world started out just like any other.

Riza, exhausted before it even hit nine o’clock in the morning, hurried their easily excitable daughter to get ready for school as quickly as possible after Roy left for work. They made it to the school gates just in time for Riza to give Mia a quick kiss and for Mia to give Hayate a scratch behind the ears in farewell.

Chuckling, Riza turned away from the school once Mia entered the building. Hayate was whining quietly, sorry to see his best friend disappear for the next few hours.

“Come on, Hayate,” she ushered, signalling for him to walk.

Despite his vocal despair, Hayate obeyed but kept looking behind him to see if Mia would suddenly appear. It had been years, but this was his behaviour every time. Riza didn’t want to see her dog suffering, however it was amusing and warmed her heart to know they shared such a strong bond. Nothing would ever tear those two apart and Riza was grateful for it.

They walked along the pavement towards the centre of town to the large park. It was slow progress. Most days, Riza felt like she was moving through honey, but the doctor assured her that walking was still good exercise and an activity she should be partaking in as much as possible. It may also move the baby on further, which Riza was completely in favour of. She loved their child and didn’t mind being pregnant in the slightest, but she wanted to meet them already. Her ankles weren’t too sore thanks to Roy’s foot rub that morning. However, the pain still plagued her and they were almost always in constant pain in the evenings. Her back pain had finally eased a little, thankfully. Instead of it being short and sharp it was a constant dull ache. Headaches became her most prominent gripe, but Riza felt that was more manageable. As least she could move around more easily with a sore head, compared to back ache.

If Riza could bend down comfortably and let Hayate off the lead, she would. She winced as she twisted, feeling a light cramp in the muscles of her stomach so opted not to push her luck. Instead, Hayate had to walk dutifully by her side on his lead, which he didn’t seem to mind. He wandered and Riza let him, sniffing the edges of the path and foraging through piles of old dead leaves that hadn’t quite disintegrated yet in the winter cold. He never once pulled.

He’s such a good dog, Riza thought fondly as she watched him stop and wait for her to catch up. Once she did, he continued onwards, and this happened throughout their walk like clockwork. Riza enjoyed watching his antics. She loved their little pup.

Once home, Riza sat down on their couch, spent. That discomfort in her stomach was still present but it came in short bouts. As time moved on, the bouts prolonged further, but it was probably just the baby shifting. She’d been warned that would happen as she reached her fortieth week of pregnancy, and the same had happened with Mia as well. Until the pain came, Riza would try not stress herself out too much.

It was really nice, Riza realised, not to have coursework to go through while Mia was at school. After achieving her certification, her days opened up completely. Riza didn’t know what to do with herself having so much free time. She’d need to find something new to fill her focus, but while waiting on Baby Mustang to be born, she allowed herself a break. Once the baby arrived it would be all hands on deck and she’d probably not sleep properly for months. Roy reasoned with her to enjoy the peace while she could.

The first contraction hit, waking Riza from the light sleep she’d fallen into on the couch. It was uncomfortable, the sharp pain lasting only a few seconds. Heart thudding inside her chest, Riza pulled herself off the couch just in time for her water to break.

“Uh…” Never had a more eloquent sound come out of Riza’s mouth in that moment as she stared down at the puddle of water on the carpet. “Oh… Shit.”

That was quick.

Hayate looked down at the puddle. Riza was afraid he’d come over and sniff or drink it. Then he looked up at her, cocking his head to the side.

Another contraction hit, painful and leaving her breathless. Clutching her abdomen, Riza breathed through it while Hayate whined at her feet. His ears pulled back as he stared up at her, distressed by Riza’s current state.

“It’s all right, boy,” she panted. Sweat trickled down her temple, making her swipe at it irritably.

He was hot in her heels as Riza hobbled over to the phone.

“Colonel Mustang,” Roy greeted professionally once Riza had made her way through the process of the operator.

“Roy,” Riza greeted. She opened her mouth to continue when another contraction hit. Riza gasped as a sharp pain shot through her. The timing was ‘perfect’ and she rolled her eyes before they squeezed tightly closed and grit her teeth.

“Riza?” He was instantly alarmed, proving Riza’s assumption correct. She would have liked to get out what was happening to her first before Roy heard her groan in pain. It would only make him fret.

“I’m fine,” she choked out, clenching her jaw hard. “I’m all right. It’s the baby, Roy. My water just broke.”

“Holy shit.”

Riza burst out laughing but it quickly turned to a hiss of pain.

“Oh, shit, um… Right.” He was flapping on the other side of the phone, flustered after her sudden announcement. Just like Riza had predicted.

“Roy, I’ll get you at the hospital,” Riza told him.

“What?” He squawked at her, horrified at her suggestion. “I’m coming home to get you!”

“I’ll get Chris to come. She’s closer,” Riza reasoned.

They’d already had this conversation, which Roy agreed to. When faced with the sudden appearance of his child Roy was freaking out. All sense of reason had gone out the window.

Riza’s breathing finally evened out as the wave of pain passed. Her shoulders sagged in relief. Riza tried to catch her breath as she leaned against the wall beside her heavily.

“Riza –”

“Go to the hospital,” she urged him, stressing the importance of that command. “I’ll see you there.”

“Riza!”

“Roy, for God’s sake, just go!” Riza cried. “It makes no difference who takes me!”

“But –”

“Go,” she almost growled. “You being there is more important than making me wait longer for you to pick me up.” There was a short, sharp stabbing pain once more. Her fingers dug into the skin of her stomach as her eyes squeezed tightly closed. “At this rate, the kid may be born here if you don’t stop arguing with me and get off the phone.”

“Right. Okay.” He sounded calmer now that he had direction. It also sounded like he was psyching himself up to make the journey. “All right. See you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too, Roy,” she smiled, hiding her gasp behind a harshly bit lip until she heard the click of him hanging up. Once he had, a loud groan of pain left Riza’s lips, but she still reached with shaking fingers to dial Chris’ number.

“Chris? My water broke,” Riza panted into the phone.

“On it,” Chris barked, and there was the sound of movement. “See you in ten minutes.”

She hung up.

Quick and efficient, that’s what Riza needed.

* * *

Riza batted her eyes open and was greeted with the sight of a hospital room. Every muscle in her body felt sore, strained and fatigued after the few hours of labour she’d endured. There wasn’t much strength left in her to lift her head off the pillow, so she rolled it in place, moving from one side of the room to the other.

In the chair by her bedside, Roy was snoring gently. He looked as exhausted she felt, head tipped over the back of the chair with his nose pointed straight up to the ceiling. He would probably have a crick in his neck when he awoke. His legs were sprawled out, hanging wide open, the muscles completely relaxed. Arms were hung over the sides of the chair.

Their new-born child rested in the tiny crib beside Roy. One of his hands gripped the railing of the crib as he dozed, desperate for that connection between himself and his son.

Son…

Riza smirked tiredly, remembering the mop of black hair she’d seen on her son’s head before he was whisked away to be cleaned up by the nurses. Their little one had given her such a hard time after her water broke, that once he was born, meeting him was a blur before quickly falling asleep in her exhaustion. The last thing Riza remembered seeing was their child resting upon her chest as Roy looked on, tears in his eyes but a massive grin on his face.

Throat dry, Riza cleared it, feeling a scratch of pain. Smacking her lips, she thought about how desperate she was for a glass of water.

Roy snorted, sitting upright and blinking tiredly. He muttered her name, still looking half asleep before eyes fluttered closed once more. A deep sigh left his lungs as he settled back into the chair with an uncomfortable grimace.

Unable to help herself, Riza laughed. However, her throat was so dry and irritated, it caused her to break out into a coughing fit.

“Riza?” Blinking blearily, Roy forced himself to focus on her.

Offering him a tired wave Riza silently reassured her husband she was fine.

“Riza!” In a flash, Roy was upright and leaning towards her. He grasped the hand closest to him tightly, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her palm as a comfort. “What do you need? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Water,” she requested.

His warmth left her hand as both reached towards her head, but off to the side. On the bedside table, apparently there had been a pitcher of water left. Riza hadn’t even noticed or seen it. Not that she had enough strength to turn her head that far to see.

It dribbled down her chin, pooling in the hollow of her neck, but it was cool and refreshing nonetheless. Roy wiped away the excess liquid carefully and settled back into his chair, a tired, yet immensely proud smile on his face.

Riza took in his appearance. Her labour had been relatively quick compared to Mia’s. Within a few hours she’d birthed Baby Mustang and brought him into the world. Still, Roy looked drained and Riza had expected as much. Upon her arrival, he’d been flapping again, both stressed for Riza and frantic on her behalf. It was his first time going through it so she still worried. He’d been working himself up into a frenzy as Riza rode out her contractions. Chris managed to keep him calm when Riza couldn’t which she was thankful for. She thought he might faint in the delivery room, but Roy didn’t. He managed to keep himself upright and present for her, patting the hand that was holding him in a death grip.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Riza answered, cracking a smile, “but I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he beamed.

“Where is he?”

“Right here, Riza.”

Roy wheeled the crib over to her bedside, moving it between himself and the bed.

Her head wouldn’t lift for long off the pillow, causing Riza to huff in frustration. But, after a quiet chuckle from Roy, he stood and leaned over, supporting her had as she gazed down at her child. Easily, he slipped in behind her and the pillows, taking all her weight. Riza’s abdominal muscles ached but she pushed through. Her child was more important than her pain.

Baby Mustang was perfect. His face and body were tiny. His little fingers were gathered into his palm, resting up by his face against his rosy cheek. His smallest finger twitched, elongating for a moment, before curling back in with the others. Riza’s entire body melted at the sight of him. That mop of black hair stuck up on end with static as it rubbed against the sheet in his crib. The white swaddle was tight against his tiny body, making him seem so much smaller than he was.

“He’s amazing,” Riza choked out. She laughed, wiping away a tear as she groaned.

“What?” Roy laughed along with her, tears in his own eyes as he gazed lovingly down at her and rubbed her upper arm affectionately.

“With Mia I was a sobbing mess after giving birth,” Riza chuckled. “It seems it will be happening again,” she sniffed.

Roy laughed. “You’re allowed to be, I think,” he murmured. “He’s worth crying over…” He trailed off and Riza watched as Roy stared down at the baby, completely in awe of what he was seeing.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Riza whispered, moving her eyes so she was staring down at Baby Mustang too. Her head tipped to rest against Roy’s cheek. A tight pressure on her fingers distracted her for a second.

“Me too,” Roy whispered, eyes shining as he lifted her hand to his lips. A hard kiss was pressed to the back of it.

“What shall we call him?”

They’d discussed names. One stuck out for Riza the most, but she wanted Roy to admit it and accept it completely himself before she pushed the idea. It was fitting, naming their son after their late friend, Riza thought. A lovely homage. Whether Roy committed to it or not, Riza wanted to see. She hoped he would because she knew how much it would mean to him.

Roy swallowed thickly as he gazed down at their son. He was silent, struggling to come up with his answer. Patiently, Riza followed suit and simply stared at Baby Mustang so she could marvel at his tiny fingers and nose, giving Roy all the time he needed.

“I know what you want to call him,” Roy whispered.

“Is it so wrong?”

Roy shook his head. “Not wrong. Not at all,” he reassured. “But…”

“What, Roy?” Her prompt was gentle. Before the birth she purposefully hadn’t brought it up because she didn’t want to upset him. However, they needed to get to the bottom of it before it was too late. Riza didn’t want there to be any regrets.

“I don’t know if I can name him after Maes,” Roy admitted quietly.

“Why not?” She was genuinely curious. What were his reasonings?

“It… I don’t know,” he admitted in defeat.

“You can tell me,” Riza urged.

“I know but…” His breath sounded strangled before he cleared his throat. “I don’t know… It feels like it’s too much,” he mumbled.

“We named Mia after your mother,” Riza reminded him.

“I know,” he admitted. “So it’s your turn to choose who we name him after.” He was trying a different tactic.

Riza shook her head. “There’s no one in my family worth naming our son after.”

Roy huffed.

“It will be a lovely homage to your brother,” she whispered. Riza gripped his fingers tightly to give them a quick squeeze.

Roy cleared his throat, his spine straightening. He blinked the tears from his eyes and sighed heavily in acceptance.

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I’ve ever been,” Riza nodded.

Roy glanced at her out the side of his eye.

“I’ve known this would be what it would boil down to if we had a son,” Riza admitted. “I have no issue at all with it, so long as you're happy with the choice.”

He tried to cover up his tears by clearing his throat again. He shifted, gripping onto Riza tightly as he stared down at baby Maes. A choked sob left him, which Roy also tried to hide, but the second one was impossible to restrain. Soon, tears were falling down his cheeks.

Riza grinned at him.

“Welcome to the word, baby Maes,” she cooed quietly as Roy sniffed and nodded in agreement beside her. He was unable to speak.

* * *

“He’s named after Uncle Maes?” Mia’s voice was barely above a whisper as she gazed down at Maes in his baby carrier. Her eyes were wide as she tried to take in every detail of her baby brother. She’d already stated his tiny fingers were her favourite thing about him.

Riza nodded. “He is.”

“That’s so cool… Was I named after anyone?”

Roy cocked his head then grimaced. “You were,” he replied carefully, “but I’ll tell you all about that once we get Mum and Maes settled.”

Announcing that she was named after her grandmother would confuse their six-year-old, so Riza understood Roy’s hesitation. According to Mia, Chris was her grandmother and had been for her entire life. It wasn’t worth confusing her just now without an opportunity to explain properly so Mia would understand.

“Okay!” Her grin was back on her face as she skipped after her father. Since meeting Maes she hadn’t ventured far from his side, desperate to keep her eyes on him.

Vanessa helped Riza inside the house, grasping her elbow lightly for support just in case. She’d been too tired to reassure that she was fine and could walk by herself, so let her sister-in-law guide her inside.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Vanessa looked at Riza expectantly, awaiting direction.

“The couch is fine,” Riza answered. She wasn’t quite ready to leave her family just yet.

Mia meeting Maes was one of the most adorable things Riza had ever seen. She’d gasped so quietly, creeping over to look at him, silent as a mouse, afraid to disturb him. Riza melted as she watched on, feeling tears prick the corner of her eyes. She was so considerate of him already. Now that they were home, she was hovering over his baby carrier once more in the centre of the room. All she did was stare at him in wonder.

“Need anything Riza?”

She shook her head before shooting Roy a grateful smile.

“Would you like a coffee?” Roy extended the offer to Vanessa.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Riza was eased onto the couch with the help of Vanessa. Once she was seated, her sister-in-law flipped her hair out of the way before looking expectantly back at Riza.

“Do you need anything? Any more cushions?”

“No, I’m all right. Thank you though, Vanessa. For all your help.”

“Of course,” she beamed. “It’s no problem, you know that.”

Vanessa had stepped in to help them home from the hospital. It was no secret that Venessa and Riza had ‘become’ friends during their time frequenting the Ladies Night at Christmas’ Bar. It would raise no suspicion if a friend helped Riza and Roy make their way back home from the hospital. Chris had left after meeting Maes. Riza was sure she’d seen tears in the gruff woman’s eyes but didn’t announce it. Secretly, Riza grinned to herself with the observation. The woman loved her grandchildren very much.

Mia was silent as the adults talked in the room, completely focussed on her brother. But Maes started to fuss quietly as Vanessa was finishing off her coffee and Mia started to worry.

“Mum?” Her voice was full of fear as she stared wide-eyed down at him.

Maes swiped a hand at his cheek after he yawned, face screwing up as he made tiny noises of discomfort.

“I got it,” Roy answered immediately, standing from his armchair. His mug was placed on the floor as he strode over, crouching down beside Mia.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing bad, Mia,” Roy reassured with a light laugh. “He’s maybe a little uncomfortable.”

“Can I help?”

Vanessa cooed in the background.

“He might need to be changed, or he might be hungry. I’ll go and find out what he needs,” Roy explained. “Thank you for offering though, Mia. That’s very kind of you.”

Lifting Maes into his arms, Mia watched on, wringing her hands together.

“She’s adorable,” Vanessa leaned over to whisper.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Mia Bear loves her brother,” Vanessa giggled. “Your kids are so adorable.”

Riza beamed.

“He needs changed,” Roy announced. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Mia walked to the door with her father but stopped on the threshold. Roy continued onwards to head up the stairs to Maes’ room.

“Mia?”

She turned, biting her lip.

“Come over here,” Riza beckoned, opening her arms.

Mia clambered onto the couch as her Aunt Vanessa scooted over. She cuddled into Riza’s chest, her hands clinging onto her shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Stroking her forehead always managed to calm her, so Riza brushed her fingers across her skin to try and ease Mia’s fears.

“I’m worried about Maes,” Mia admitted in a whisper.

“Why? He’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“But he’s so tiny!” she exclaimed. “And he looked upset. I don’t want him to be upset.”

“Babies cry, Mia,” Riza explained, cuddling her daughter close. “Maes will be doing a lot of that from now on. He can’t speak yet so that’s how he tells us something is wrong.”

“Did I cry a lot?”

“You did,” Riza grinned. “You woke us up through the night all the time.”

She pulled away, horrified.

“That’s what babies do,” Riza shrugged. Lifting a hand to her hair, Riza reorganised Mia’s mussed up fringe and smoothed it down. Her hand trailed down to cup her cheek, the other booping her on the nose. Mia giggled, squirming away.

“Do you think he’ll wake me up?”

“We’ll try very hard to make sure he doesn’t. Maes will be sleeping in our room for a little while so hopefully he doesn’t. If he does, Dad and I will help him. You can just go back to sleep,” Riza reassured.

Nodding in acceptance, Mia relaxed against the cushions. Fondly, Vanessa patted the top of her head, running her hand through Mia’s ponytail. It was reorganised on her back, trailing down her spine. It had grown longer since her birthday, falling in between her shoulder blades now.

“Mum and Dad will do everything to make Maes happy, just like they do for you,” Vanessa reassured cheerily.

“They do make me very happy,” Mia agreed, assuring her aunt that was the case.

Riza laughed. “I’m glad, Mia Bear. You and Maes make us the happiest people on the planet.”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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is-that-another-soulmate-au · 5 years ago

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Me? Combine two soulmate AUs and add in an animal hybrid AU????

Of courze, buckle up buddies this is gonna be a bit if a bumpy ride

Dream soulmate/soulpairs AU/Soulmate Ribbons AU/Animal Hybrid AU

Dream: Basically like last time you cant control when you visit, you cant see them, you cant say your name or where you're from. But this time its a legit group dream. In the dream your soulmate(s) will have a ribbon around them apposed to the simply blurred soulpair(s)

Ribbon/animal hybrid: with the ribbon au it ties in with the animal for the most part. You're born with a ribbon tied around your animal feature, whether it be at the base of a fluffy wolf tail, the end of a cat/lemur tail, at the base of cat ears/bunny ears, on any type of horns. Regardless of where it happens to be tied, it cannot be removed, it can be burnt or singed but it cant be cut or removed. The color of your soulmates nation appears after you meet your them, and you can then see the color of yours around them during dreams

So basically Zuko's 12th birthday he goes to sleep and in his dream there are three people with one surrounded by a pale white ribbon.

"H-hello?" He called out.

"Hi!" A cheery voice called out

"Im assuming you're all.. not my soulmate, because I'm 8" a slightly annoyed young girl called

"Your a soulfriend for me!" A chipper Boys voice broke through, the voice of the bright figure

"Uhm, I know I can't know your names, but I'd like to be able to distinguish between all of you... uhm,"

"Call me Bandit" the younger girl called out

"You can call me Oshi"

"And uhm..."

"I'll call you turtleduck" zuko interrupted him

"What? Why that?"

"Uh, well, I have a turtleduck pond by my home and I like it there, and uh, your my soulmate so..."

"Oh! Uhmm... what should I call you?" The boy paused a moment

"Sunshine? Maybe?"

"Yeah! Sunshine!"

"Alright, so, Bandit, Oshi, Turtleduck, and Sunshine?" Oshi piped in

"Yeah," bandit hummed "by the way, whats a turtle duck?"

"Ill show you one whe-"

"Im blind"

"What? Oh, im sorry, I didnt know. Well, if we ever meet I'll let you hold one. I'm sure it'll get the idea across."

"Youre blind?! That sounds so cool! I bet your other senses are heightened" Oshi chirped at the thought

"Yeah, and so is my bending! I can see with me bending, but im not too good at it yet"

"You're a bender? I dont know if we can find out what kind" Turtleduck mused

"Let me try... im an earthbender!"

"Woah! Cool! So you use earthbending to see?" Zuko questioned

The rest of the dream was fairly blurry to him. He ran to his mom to talk about his dream, going on about Oshi, Bandit and Turt; he shortened turtleduck because well, he wanted to.

They dont meet up until later that year, after his mother had left him he was found crying

"Sunny?" He heard Bandit call out

"Huh!? Oh hey guys, sorry, im fine" he sighed "I- I lost my mom just last week"

They all comforted him and then pulled the conversation to different topics, Turt talking about going hunting with his dad and getting hit wolf tail caught on a fishing line. Bandit talked about her earthbending and how she learned how to use her badger tail to bend as well. Oshi all the while hovered as close as the dream would let her, it felt similar to a motherly protection and he appreciated it greatly.

The next time they saw eachother was about two nights after his banishment he was found pouting but quickly came out it the pout when he heard Turt calling out

"SUNNY! Sunny! Hi! Oh Tui! Hi Bandit! Hi Oshi!"

"Hey Turt!" The girls called out "Sunny, whats got you down?"

He sighed "i left the firenation today"

"Woah woah, hold on, why did you leave- oh were you from there? Why would you leave?" Oshi pried.

"Uhm, I was banished for losing an agni kai against my dad"

"An Agn- thats a firebending duel! Your still just 13!" Turt cried out

"Yeah, well, my dad doesnt care about that, he made sure I'd remember that by burning me, now i have to find the avatar before I can return home"

Their conversation lasted for what felt like several blurry hours. When he woke it was to Iroh walking in with some tea. Zuko shot up and managed to get his blanket caught in his horns "AAAGH!" He growled out "help... please" iroh simply chuckled and untangled the blankets from Zuko's horns

"How was your sleep nephew?" Iroh asked as he started to pour them some tea, handing Zuko his cup.

"I talked to Oshi, Bandit and Turt again" he mumbled while bringing the cup to his lips and blowing some of the steam away.

"Thats good, were you able to discuss your banishment? I'm not sure if the dreams will let you, my soulmate and I have never met nor have we ever left our nations"

"Yeah, I was able to tell them everything, well the banishment and" he motioned to his now healing eye wound.

They had met a few more times over the next three years, Oshi revealing that she has a lion tail that is most certainly not as clumsy as Turt's consistently caught wolf tail.

About a week after Zuko arrived at the southpole and managed to lose the avatar there was another dream

"Sunny!" Turt sounded angry

"Uh, y-yeah?"

"You visited my tribe today" the ribbon around Turt was red

"Oh, uh yeah, I'm sorry. Did I hurt someone, I wasn't trying to, I just needed to grab the avatar"

"YOU DONT NEED THE AVATAR SUNNY!" Turt was fuming "youre chasing the avatar for what? The love of an abusive father?"

"Hes no-

"He is Sunny! I dont know the full extent of it. But if he broke your horn, burnt you, and then BANISHED YOU all for speaking out of turn, then that spells abusive!! That level of abuse and your level of wanting to be back says clearly that you were neglected and abused, what the FUCK Sunny!"

Zuko was frozen but it wasnt silent

"We've been trying to tell you this Sunny, your dad is terrible and you deserve actual love, your uncle is a much better dad than him, and you know it" Oshi piped up

"Yeah, I know but-"

"And! If I ever get my hands on him, it'll be his last day alive. Mark. My. Words" Bandit cracked her knuckles

The dream went on for a while longer with the trio eventually convincing Zuko he shouldn't search for his fathers love by capturing the avater. Turt managed to convince him to join forces with the avatar the next time he saw them. The next time he met up with the avatar was on Kyoshi Island, where he entered the town without his armor or helmet, and instead wearing casual garmets.

"What are you doing here Zuko?" Katara growled at him with the hairs on her tail standing on end. Aang was behind her with his lemur tail flicking angrily.

"Well, im not here to capture you if that's what you think. I came to join you"

"Why would we ever believe that?" Aang's voice was nearly as angry as Katara's

Sokka was beside Katara in a similar stance but had yet to respond

"Well, I honestly don't expect you to believe me, unless any of you happen to be Turt, Oshi or Bandit." He paused "look I was burnt and banished at 13 by my own father just for speaking up in a war meeting about how cruel it was to sacrifice new recruites for a bigger win, and my father sent me out to find the avatar." He sighed "i would have continued but Turt and Oshi managed to help me understand where I was wrong in thinking and made me see just how abusive my dad is"

"Sunny?" Sokka finally spoke but was matched with one of the Kyoshi warriors

"Huh? I mean, yeah they call me that, wait are you Turt?" He then turned to the warrior and saw the lion tail "Oshi!?" He stepped back in a moment of surprise.

"Oh my gods Sunny what the hell!" The wolf and lion laughed

"Wait, Zuko is the Sunny you've been talking about!?" Katara and Aang said in unison.

From there out Zuko was a part of the team. Suki having to stay behind for the time being. The group traveled via Appa or by boat. Katara, Sokka and Iroh having lengthy in depth conversations about waterbending and pai sho. He may or may not have been making an attempt to recruit them both slowly but surely.

When they met Toph she put two and two together so fast. "You're Sunny and Turt!" She exclaimed before they duo could introduce eachother

"Wait! Bandit!" Thay said in unison

"The one and only Blind Bandit!" She said proudly.

After meeting with her Zuko became acquainted with a chaotic good type younger sister as apposed to his own chaotic evil. Toph would often launch herself into his shoulders, grab his horns and say "onward noble dragon steed!!" Which he didnt mind so he never complained much.

Let's fast forward to the desert. While Sokka Aang and Katara went into the library to explore, Zuko and Iroh stayed behind with toph to protect Appa, when the Sand benders arrived while the Library was sinking the two firebenders fought off the sandbenders until the trio emerged and they ran off. Zuko, however had fought practically tooth and nail to keep appa there, dodging sand and blasting fire to distract the benders when they tried to use the sand beneath his feet against him. He collapsed from the exhaustion of not only fighting with a dozen benders in their element, but also the heat of the sun. Iroh on the other hand asked Katara for a bit of water to make sure he didnt collapse as well.

"Zuko!" Aang cried out when he watched Zuko collapse in the sand. They all got back on Appa and made their way out of the dessert.

Not long after they stopped at a small body of water to rest and wash up Appa so he wouldn't be shedding and attracting anyone Zuko taking a hot minute to get his strength back. They were approached by a couple who happened to have a baby on the way and Zuko nudged Aang "we should take them with us, yknow, spread some joy"

So they flew the couple with them to Ba Sing Se with them. They managed to get in to tell the earth king their invasion plan, as well as taking down the dai li with the proof of the drill right outside the wall. Without having the advantage of the Kyoshi disguises Azula didnt manage to gain the upperhand against Ba Sing Se, and in turn she had no idea about the invasion plan. Aang had his crisis at Ember island before the invasion and met the lion turtle just before they had to leave.

When the invasion began Zuko and Aang both went off to the city, Zuko in his blue spirit get up with his swords on his back literally being dangled in the air by Aangs weirdly strong ass tail. When the landed on the roof, it was still a bit until the fire kicked off. So they were dodging fire balls while running towards the palace, however right before they went into the throne room Azula appeared. She went to shoot fire but was shocked to see no fire come out. Aang smirked and bended the earth around her to keep her in place.

They went in to Ozai, Zuko drawing his swords and Aang readying himself to fight a powerful bender who possibly had skills other than bending. But they were met with a practically powerless man who didn't take long to defeat, taking his life wasn't the option, however, Aang knew that, and so he took his bending away, to the absolute awe of Zuko who watched the blinding light for a moment before shielding his eyes.

After the success of the invasion Iroh took the throne when Zuko told him he was simply not ready. However Iroh made a deal with him, he would be firelord for all of 5 years, set the ground work for Zuko and let his nephew take up some studying in the other nations as well as his own to figure out how he would rule after the 5 years were up.

And he did, he gathered as much information from the other nations, all with Sokka joining with him. He spend a year at the south pole, helping rebuild the place, he spend a year at the northpole studying the scrolls available, he spent a year going to each large earth kingdom city, and then he spent his fourth year in the firenation reading every scroll he could. One night while in his room reading through a pile of scrolls he leaned onto Sokka's shoulder for support, but Sokka took the scroll out of his hands "alright enough reading for you tonight, come on little dragon its bedtime"

Sokka's tail was absentmindedly wagging side to side as he helped his soulmate undress and get into more comfortable clothes, of course getting the cloth stuck on those pesky horns a couple times. But soon they were both laying in bed with Zuko resting his cheek against Sokka's chest while Sokka ran his fingers through his hair.

They could stay like this forever. And wouldn't you know it, after Zuko took the throne he proposed to Sokka and the two were soon married, the Wolf and the Dragon.

At the wedding Toph and Suki were the first to show up, bringing gifts, Suki gave them a pair of gold fans, one with a turtleduck on it and the other with a sun on it. Toph on the otherhand had brought a dagger with a dragon carved on the blade and a wolfs head on the handle.

>another marraige wrap up? Of course, its me what else would I do?

#RayMakesSoulmates #i will die on my endless soulmate au hill #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates #ambassador sokka #atla sokka #sokka x zuko #sokka #atla zuko #prince zuko #zuko #zukka #fire lord zuko #suki #atla toph #toph beifong #canon who?#lets throw the whole canon away shall we?#canon divergence

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loominggaia · 3 years ago

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Fanfiction: New York (part 9)

This is a good long chapter, so get a snack and strap in!

Anonymous asked:

Trigger warning about this chapter. It contains Alaine and lukus beating up a sexual predator and Zeffer murdering a drug dealer. You have been warned.

Evan sat in his hospital bed pondering what nurse kimi told him. On one hand he was happy to know who was here to rescue him. He already knew Elska was here due to the news stories and was told Alaine, Lukus, Jeimos and Issac where here. He had a hunch Zeffer was here too, based on a news story he saw this morning of an local robber/murderer being killed in an unusual way. Found drained of blood with strange wounds on his neck. He wondered who else was here that just haven’t been confirmed.

On the other hand he had no way of contacting them and the rescue crew his location. Evan sighed, he’d have to get out here one way or another. His plan to act sane and be discharged seemed to be working, his doctors and therapist seemed happy at his ‘recovery’ but where not yet fully convinced. While progress was being made to get out on his own it was still slower then he wanted it to be. He needed to get out and stretch his legs, he was feeling rather weak staying in one room all day.

Alaine and Lukus took to the streets, ready to start their little hog hunting trip. Lukus was hesitant to do a hog hunt here but Alaine managed to convince him, it be a fast way of getting some cash and take out some frustration and some degenerates. They started their hunt in an allyway, Alaine leaving her armor back at base and picking up a discarded bottle, putting on her best giddy drunk girl act. Lukus followed close behind, staying hidden behind some trash cans to spring their trap.

It took awhile to get anything interesting, the few peoplethey encountered either completely ignored her or trying to help her. Thinking they wouldn’t get anything Alaine suddenly heard a male voice behind her. “Excuse me miss” Alaine turned around readying herself to see… Evan and Conner!? Alaine jumped at the sight, was that really him! Had she finally found him! And what was Conner doing here? Her moment of shock wore down quickly realizing ,no, It wasn’t them.

While these men may not have actually been Evan and Conner it was unsettling to Alaine how much a look alike’s they where. The Atlas look alike’s in blue uniforms introduced themselves, the Evan twin introduced himself as Officer Mattews and the Conner twin as Officer Conway. Officer Mattews told her they where here because they got some complaints of a drunk girl wandering around and where here to check in on her. “Shit” Alaine thought to herself.

They just had some questions for her like who she was,? Why she was here? If they could escort her home? The longer she spoke to them the more like Evan and Conner they seemed, Officer Mattews being calm and gentle sounding when speaking whereas Officer Conway just eyes her up suspiciously and was abit more rude with his questioning. Officer Mattews apologized on his behalf, saying he’s new to the force and not to kind him, they just wanted to make sure she was safe and sound.

Alaine was being friendly with the officers no matter how unsettled she was by them, keeping up her drunk girl act the whole time. She just wanted to go, clearly their hunt wasn’t gonna have any success here and she really didn’t want to get involved with this worlds police. She lied to them saying she had an apartment close by and was fine by her own, Officer Mattews was insistent on walking her back with clear worry while Officer Conway just looked indifferent and more judgemental.

Just as Alaine almost had them off her back Officer Conway saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned around, pulling out his taser and shouted at the trash cans “ I saw that, get up and hands where I can see them!”. Lukus had been watching everything from behind his post, also being shocked at how unsettlingly close to the real Evan & Conner these two police men where. His cover had been blown, guy must of seen him out of the corner of his eye. “Dammit” Lukus thought.

Lukus emerged from his hiding spot at the officers request, hands in the air and a look of bitter spite on his face. Conway kept his taser pointed at him with Mattews pulling his out and aimed his way. Officer Conway aggressively asked who he thinks he is, why he was hiding behind the trash and why’s he’s dressed like some wanna be Robin Hood? Lukus dodged the questions and shot some jabs back at him, only pissing the officer off. Mattews just asked him more calmly and walking closer to him.

Lukus was once again unhelpful to the officers request. Alaine was freaking out, they need Lukus here and he’s no use to Evans rescue behind bars. Needing some way of salvaging this and getting the officers off their backs Alaine made a quick move. “Lukieeee”!!! Alaine shouted in a high pitched, giddy tone, running up to Lukus and clinging to him. She kissed him on the cheek and was babbling about how he came to check on her. The officers lowered their tasers in confusion, Alaines plan working.

She introduced Lukus as her boyfriend to the officers, saying he’s alright and not to worry. Lukus was just as confused as they where but went along with the lie, saying he was just worried about her and making sure no one harmed her. The officers didn’t look entirely convinced but afew more kisses on Lukus’s cheeks by Alaine got them to back off, wishing the couple well. As soon as they where gone Alaine got off him and gagged, wiping off her lips much to Lukus’s amusement.

He tried to shoot an insult her way but just got a slap to the face. Alaine grabbing his shirt collar and with rage in her eyes said nobody is to ever know about this and she’ll beat his ass if he ever tells anyone! The pair moved on, clearly this was not that great a hunting spot and they needed somewhere alittle seedier. They contemplated giving up but the rumbling of their stomachs and the knowledge that they needed earth money pushed them onward.

Finding a new spot they set a different trap this time, Lukus fake tied Alaine to a gutter and simply waited behind a dumpster. The pair waited awhile for anyone to show up, wondering if anyone will? After what felt like hour of waiting their first customer arrived. A man in a business suit talking on the phone was coming down their way, the perfect prey. With their target in sight Alaine readied herself, letting out a panicked scream and pleaded for help!

The man got off his phone at the sounds of a women’s scream. He came running down the path to see a panicked women tied to a gutter, desperately trying to free herself. Alaine in her best hysterical crying was thanking him, begging for help. He asked her what happened and with fake tears streaming down her face and panic in her voice, she cried that some guy came out of nowhere, robbed her and tied her up and was asking him to free her and call the police!

The guy seemed to be buying Alaines sob story, Alaine amplified herself to full blown ugly crying and was saying she just wanted to go home, that she willing to do anything to be freed. At this their was a change in the man, “Anything”? He repeated. A wide, hungry smile spreading across his face. “Jack pot” Alaine thought. She shook her head, keeping up her act. The man eyes looked down lustfully at her and said he’s free her, if she’s willing to do something for him first?

Alaine in her best shaky voice asked what he wanted. His eyes traveled all up and doen her body as he told her that if she wants to be free, she has to let him have his way with her. If she said yes he’ll call the cops and get her untied and home safely. If she refuses he’ll simply leave her their to rot. He also told her to not even bother telling anyone about this arrangement, cause he’s got some rather very, very good lawyers that will sue her into the ground if she dare makes a peep.

Alaine knew she was gonna have some fun with this pig! She’d seen sick bastards like him before, knew his type all to well and was just to deliver swift justice onto this creep. She played up the act, asking in panic if their was any other way to which he simply told her it’s let him screw her or leave her their. She hesitantly agreed to his condition, his perverted smile spreading ear to ear and his bulge rising in his pants. Today was his lucky day he thought to himself.

Lukus watched this gross bastard from behind the dumpster, readying for his attack picking up a rusty pipe. The man was unzipping his pants and leaning over the helpless women, ready to claim his prize. As he reached over to grope her breast suddenly he felt a foot slam straight into his jaw. He nursed his jaw and saw that his soon to victim had kicked him, a smug smile on her face. This enraged him, he fumed and yelled, calling her a little bitch and raised his fist to hit her.

He never got his chance as just as he was raising his fist he felt a something hard hit the back of his head. He fell to the ground, his head spinning and bison blurred from the impact, he saw a hooded figure standing over him, a rusty pipe in hand. The women congratulated the assailant and pulled herself free and loomed over him. He tried to say something but a swift kick to the face shit him up, the women leaned over him with a sinister smile and for the first time in awhile, he felt pure fear

To say Alaine and Lukus made of mess of this pervert is an understatement. Having beat him every shade of black and blue to unconsciousness and robbed him blind, ending their torture by cutting off little manhood and tounge. Counting their prize money of nearly a thousand dollars they fled the scene of the crime, leaving their not so innocent victim behind to rot. The whole morning up till the afternoon they spent on this little hog hunt and saw some major success.

While as usual most people either ignored Alaine or tried to help her they managed to bag three more degenerate swine that day. A man and women who attempted to rob Alaine while she pretended to be either drunk or tied up and the third being another wanna be rapist, giving all three a good thrashing, robbed them blind and leaving each with a permanent reminder of their misdeeds. While Alaine was having fun she did have to admit, hog hunting just didn’t feel the same without Glenvar their.

She missed him, she missed him dearly. She wondered how Glenvar was doing back in Gaia? Probably trying to drink himself under the table again as usual? Alaine couldn’t wait to see him again and tell him all about this trip to another world, but to do that they need to get the captain back first. The two had a really good cash haul for today, their other three pigs hadn’t been nearly as rewarding as the first but it still seemed like a decent amount. They’d round the day off with one last hunt.

Alaine was in a back ally, luring in swine number 5 with her cutsey drunk girl act. This obvious creeper had been following her all the way down the allyway as she fake stumbled around, staring directly at her butt with an excited look on his creepy face. Alaine was leading him straight to Lukus’s hiding place, readying for another attack. Once the guy followed her into the spot and got greedy, moving faster and trying to reach out and grab her, only to get knocked to the ground in one swift hit

The pair wasted no time tag team beating the creeper to the ground, the pair kicking and hitting the dude as he cried out for help. The pair tried to silence him, delivering a quick kick to his face but he only screamed louder. “What’s going on back that their”? a familiar sounding voice called out. Two police men suddenly showed up, Officer Mattews and Conway arriving on the scene, seeing a familiar pair of faces beating a seemingly helpless man.

Lukus and Alaine felt an overwhelming sense of shame wash over them, Evans look alike making it seem as if they had been caught by their captain. Mattews looked over them with a stern gaze while Conway already had his hands on the taser, asking them what they think their doing? The creep crawled his way out from under them, thanking the officers for coming to his rescue and shamelessly trying to blame the attack on them. That their crazy and he didn’t do anything wrong.

The pair told the officers it was self defense, Alaine saying the man tried to grab her. The perv had an over expressive shock adamantly denying her claim and saying she’s a psycho, that they need to lock those two up. Conway just eyes the three in distain and told Mattews why don’t they just arrest all three of them and get it done and over with? Mattews shot him down, they where not gonna arrest anyone yet but where gonna bring all three down to the station for questioning and sort this out.

Alaine and Lukus where panicking, they couldn’t afford to be sitting in a jail cell while the real Evan was still out their! They looked to one another as the officers approached and in a unanimous decision, bolted! Alaine took of one direction and Lukus the other direction. The officers shouted and took off after them, Officer Mattews Pursuing Alaine and Officer Conway towards Lukus. With the cops gone and no threat of a further beating the creeper fled as well.

Alaine ever thought she’d have to run away from Evan, much less his clone to avoid being arrested but here she is now. Alaine sprinted at full speed with Officer Mattews keeping a close pace yelling at her to stop. She made her way to the Main Street, opening up to massive crowds of people and asked no time slipping into the faceless hordes of people. Mattews still hot on her tail frantically searching around the crowd trying to follow her but losing her in the crowd.

Lukus never thought he’d have to run away from Connor of all people, much less his extra dimensional twin brother. Lukus bobbed and weaved around the alleyways, tossing trash cans and hoping fences to block the officers path with little luck. Officer Conway keeping a steady pass with Lukus through out the path, aggressively pursuing him. Lukus was gonna need a diversion of some sort to get this prick of his trail.

This diversion would come from a far nearly running into them on a side street. Slowing Officer Conway down enough to give Lukus enough time run and find some hiding spot. He spotted another dumpster in the allyway, hopping right into it to hopefully hide from Connors doppelgänger. Thankfully this worked as Conway ran right past it, cursing and trying to catch up to Lukus. Lukus waited inside the dumpster for alittle while after the footfalls stopped, exiting once the coast was clear.

Hours later the two managed to return to base individually. They took afew extra twist and turns as to make sure they where not being followed by the cops as they returned. Everyone was back at base already, settling down for dinner that night, this time being three big boxes of pizza. The two found out what the others where up to that day, Jeimos and Issac where out finding scrap metal to sell and Elska just did the same she did yesterday in searching the woods.

The pair dodged questions about what their day was like, just telling them about the Evan and Connor look alike’s they ran into and they got money. They ate their pizza in peace, Alaine, Lukus, Jeimos and Issac eating half the pizza and Elska eating the other half before heading off for bed. Zeffer was awake by now and got ready for his nightly patrol.

Zeffer searches the whole night once again, fortunately not running into those weirdos he had the night before but didn’t find Evan either. It was getting late and his vampiric hunger was calling to him once again, he needed a meal before going back to base. Stalking the allyways he came across a potential victim, seeing a pale man in wifebeater and jeans, smuge grin on his face talking to two junkies. Handing them so packages before telling them to get out his sight. He would do nicely.

Zeffer approached the dealer, keeping his face hidden. The dealer saw him and smiled, saying he hadn’t seen him around here before? Asking if he needed a little pick me up and what he’d like, opening the truck of his car showing a variety of drugs, everything from needles, bags of rocks, powder and plants Zeffer didn’t have the names for. The dealer stared at the stranger, thinking he could make one last sale for tonight and go home. He never would as Zeffer attacked, sinking his fangs into him.

The dealer screamed and shoved Zeffer off, grabbing his wounded neck as blood leaked out. Only then did he see his attackers face, the ghostly pale skin, sunken burning eyes and fangs dripping in his blood. The dealer screamed in pure terror, reaching for his glock but was intercepted, the vampire grabbing him and finishing him off. He kicked and screamed but his efforts where futile, his body falling lifeless to the ground after Zeffer was done.

Having finished his evening meal Zeffer took a look at his victims belongings. Pilfering his cash and leaving the drug filled car behind, he had quite abit of money on him and defintion wouldn’t be needing it anymore. Zeffer headed back to base for tonight with his bounty in tow. After he left some druggies made their way through the allyway, all eager for their next hit with cash at the ready. Instead of seeing their usual dealer they saw the grizzly sight before them, looking on in horror.

The also noticed his trunk was open and all his stash exposed. Stepping around their former dealers body they took everything they could grab and booked it. Eager to enjoy this big hit and didn’t want to stick around to see if whoever killed their dealer was still around.

I love this story. Anon, everyone is so in-character and it’s great! Every chapter just leaves me wanting more. TO BE CONTINUED...?

#fanfic

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ree-ffxiv · 4 years ago

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CH 1: F.A.T.E.

The Lalafel’s cries were drowned by the beast that chased her throughout the winding Footfalls canyon of Western Thanalan. She could smell its stench as its gaping jaws roared in pursuit.

In her panic, tears stung her eyes – blurring her vision as she narrowly dodged a rock wall that curved sharply before her.

Just moments before, she and her group had managed to have a local FATE under control – that is, until she had accidentally encroached upon a pack of coeurls as she avoided the battle at hand to heal the party. Unfortunately, she found herself chased without time to cast a spell, and with but little choice but to run.

Lamimi eventually sound herself at a dead-end. She hesitantly turned to stare at the beast that had since slowed its pace to stalk her. Its leathery tongue licked its fangs, salivating – until suddenly a blur of black and red landed on top of it from above the canyon and began to wrestle with it. Lamimi felt herself pressing harder into the wall, as all she could do was watch the event unfolding before her.

The Warrior eventually found himself in between the Lalafel and the coeurl, Bravura now at the ready. The beast’s roar echoed throughout the canyon, causing Lamimi to wince, but the Warrior did not hesitate a single muscle – in fact, he charged it with a burst of electrical force. The coeurl erupted a pathetic sound as it was stunned, eventually managing to scramble to its feet and run away from the pair.

Lamimi breathlessly cried in relief – at last! She feared Albert and the others would never find her in this deserted canyon. He must have followed them from above!

Upon her first meeting of Albert aside that dusty road – albeit she wished it was better conditions on which they met – she was nonetheless grateful to have found him when she did, or else he would have simply vanished into the aether. That day onward, they were inseparable, and their group had continued to grow over the years. Some could say, in fact, that she harbored deep feelings for Albert. When tipsy with wine it would be hard to hide. She thanked the gods in her favor that he was oblivious to her machinations.

The Warrior turned from the path in which the coeurl ran off, to face the Lalafel who was now smiling; strands of her blonde pigtails rose slightly from the fresh current in the air. The helm lifted from the Warrior’s face to reveal not her friend, but a woman – eerily similar to Albert in appearance. Lamimi’s smile instantly fell.

Breathless, Gylian asked, “Are you okay? I think that’s the fastest I’ve seen a Lalafel run!”

Lamimi’s eyes widened – Lalafel? Was that what this world called her people?

Lamimi watched as the axe was placed nonchalantly on Gylian’s armored shoulder. A Hume woman - with strands of dark, chestnut hair poked from underneath her helm; wide, curious blue eyes watched her intently. The subtle scarring about the nose reminded her of Albert's own scars. The armor she wore also did not help ease the awkward similarities, sans coloration.

“Wait, why are you looking at me like that?” Gylian asked, noticing her intent stare.

Lamimi cleared her throat, now attempting to collect herself. “Pray excuse me, it’s just that I thought you were my companion. He has similar attire, and,” she stopped herself before remembering that she was unknown to this world, and had to avoid overt details.

“And?” she asked, waiting for the Lalafel to continue.

“…You remind me of him,” she managed to say, much to her relief and satisfaction – a little honest, a little falsehood – and hopefully enough to get by a random adventurer.

The Warrior smiled at the woman and gave a quick nod. “Never mind you worry,” she said. “If your friend looks anything like me, then you must certainly be in good hands.” She adjusted the weapon, her hand now dangling from its handle. “Might you need an escort? Beasts in these parts are more common than you think, and even the smallest ones have taste for Lalafel.”

Before Lamimi could respond, her linkpearl began to chirp.

“Lamimi! Are you there? Are you okay?”

Gylian watched as the Lalafel’s hand affixed upon her ear, “Yes! Yes, I’m here! Thank the gods I am all right –“ She paused to consider mentioning her rescuer. Should she tell him? Lamimi glanced up at Gylian, who had since set her weapon down to browse through levemetes she happened to have on hand. Lamimi quickly turned away for discretion.

“Lamimi?”

“I’m here,” she repeated. “Is it safe to meet at our rendezvous point? It is getting late…!”

“Absolutely. We were absolutely worried. See you soon, Lamimi.”

Lamimi turned back to face Gylian, who was now yawning toward the sky. In comparison to her melee companions, this woman was awfully – casual? Care-free? Certainly odd, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Something about her demeanor reminded her of Albert before they formally became the Warriors of Light on the First – when they themselves were but simple adventurers, such as the one who stood before her. No longer was Albert that boy she had met, however – no, not since the Flood. Now, he was a hardened, cynical Warrior that she often had to coax out of his tempers.

Quickly, Lamimi shook her head from the thought and peered up at the woman. In any case, it was best to give her thanks once more and depart – before any more questions were asked of her.

Gylian was now looking at her just as curiously, waiting for their next plan of action.

“So, my friends also seem fine – it appears they recovered from the FATE that I was diverted from.” Lamimi managed a small chuckle of her own, at her silly accident for triggering a nearby pack of coeurls.

“I won’t need of you to protect me – but I thank you kindly for the rescue!” She smiled genuinely.

“It was a pleasure, Miss…?”

Lamimi’s smile froze.

“L-Lamimi? Lamimi. My name is Lamimi. And… yours?” She quickly added – at the very least she could just as well get the name of this odd woman.

“Oh! Gylian!” she beamed. “Please have care, yes? And have some wine, it’ll calm the nerves!”

Ahaha, yes, the “nerves”, all right. Lamimi thought, still smiling, biding her time to leave.

“T-Thank you, Miss Gylian. May the Twelve watch over you.” And with that, Lamimi teleported away with a quick curtsey.

Gylian continued eyeing the area Lamimi once stood, scratching her cheek in deep thought. Could someone behave with any more suspicion?

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #warrior of light #ardbert #final fantasy xiv #warrior of darkness #final fantasy #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3

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cordoniantrash · 5 years ago

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Once Upon Another Time: Chapter Nine

AU: In another time where the brothers Beaumont did not reach Cassandra in time, the waitress turned lady went back to New York to rebuild her old life. After finding an unexpected souvenir, she set off and joined her long lost family. Four years later, a newly divorced King of Cordonia arrives in New York in hopes of reuniting with his beloved. Instead of Cassandra, all he found was a postcard with the word Edgewater written on the back

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Plus a masterlist if you guys are interested. Also in AO3.

Hello and welcome to my longest chapter to date! Also the opening of the “second act”. Chapters from this one onward are gonna be pretty long, so... brace yourselves I guess? Huge thanks to @thequeennefertipi for being my beta and for sticking with this story.

Segue: If you guys like the Miraculous Ladybug, she’s written an amazing fanfic about Chloé Bourgeois, which can be found in her writing blog and in her AO3!

Anyways, feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Spelling and grammatical errors are mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege. Title for both the series and the chapter titles, plus the epigraphs are from Sara Bareilles’ discography.

Pairings: Liam x MC

Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of violence, long post

Words: 9994

Chapter Nine: Wicked Love

Wait until you see

How mighty the truth can be

Like an ocean of light

It's a sky filled with fireflies

Liam could still catch snippets of the revelry inside even though he had closed the double doors that lead to the balcony. Placing both hands on the railing, he allowed his composure to bleed away from him. That did not ease his heavy heart. Liam heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes.

“You know, I thought you’d have a few more years before you’d try to escape anniversaries.”

Liam tensed. Taking care to mask his emotions, he turned and met his father’s eyes.

“You should be resting, father.”

Constantine’s small smile vanished. A part of Liam, the little boy that still yearned for his papá, for just a moment, just a little more time, for just a scrap — mourned its loss. He mentally shrugged off the heartache, a part of him surprised at how easily he could do it. Must be all the practice he’s been getting.

“Liam—“

“The festivities can survive without me for a few more moments, father. Besides, Madeleine can handle it.”

“I know that. We both know that. But that is not why I sought you out.”

“Father—“

“No, Liam. King or no king, a son must still listen to his father.”

Liam’s hands curled into fists. A multitude of words seemed to have stuck inside his throat, all of them yearning to be let out. To let his father know how hard this year had been. How much it hurt. He wanted to scream and lash out. Let the world know how he felt. Why should I listen to you when you blocked me at every turn? Why should I even look at you when you’ve hurt her and driven her away? When you made a mockery of our choices?

“If this is about having an heir again—“

Constantine shook his head. “You’ve made your stance clear enough. I’ll give you the time you asked for. But that does not mean the people would as well. You can’t play the newlywed card forever,” his father took a few steps in his direction. “Liam, it may not look like it, but this truly is what’s best for you. For our kingdom.” He placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Fairy tales are all well and good, but you must think of what’s best for Cordonia.”

He gestured towards the ballroom. Towards Madeleine.

“Remember, you are Cordonia. And your future is here.”

His father let go of Liam’s shoulder. With long strides, he reached the doors and opened them. With a glance over his shoulder, Constantine imparted a parting blow.

“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

Liam woke up with his left arm asleep. Eyebrows furrowed and vision still foggy from sleep, it took him a moment to see what caused his arm to go numb. What he first thought to be a dark mass turned out to be Cassandra’s head. Liam glanced down and saw a smaller body cradled between them. Somehow during the night, his arm had served as a pillow for both Lucas and Cassandra. Liam smiled, all thought of his discomfort gone. Slowly and with a gentleness he vaguely remembered from his mother, he wrapped his free arm around his family, holding them close. He thought of the memory that came back as a dream. Of his father’s words. He looked at Cassie and Lucas again.

It can work out. I’ll do my hardest to make this work.

I won’t lose my family again.

----

“Does Lucas like castles?”

“Hmm?” Cassie looked up from the article she was editing. And stared. Liam, still looking through his phone, took a seat next to her. That wasn’t what caused all thoughts to flee from her mind. The father of her child and the love of her life, the King of Cordonia was wearing glasses. Cassandra’s brain seemed to have short-circuited.

Liam with glasses. No, Liam wearing glasses. Full rimmed glasses that showed off his eyes. And framed his face. Good god, was he more handsome than he was this morning?

Why is it suddenly warm in here?

“Cassie?”

Cassandra blinked. Her brain scrambled to remember what was happening. Liam’s face seemed closer than before. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Concern was shining through his eyes.

His eyes, warm and brown and showcased through his glasses. Beautiful.

Focus!

“Are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh yeah. I’m–I’m fine,” her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on the old grandfather clock against the wall. “Oh, look at the time! It’s almost lunch! I’ll go alert the staff.”

Cassie quickly closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table before moving to stand. Liam laid a hand on her arm.

“Are you sure, you’re all right?”

“Uh yeah. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she paused long enough to see Liam hesitate.

Oh.

She sat back down, took his hand in hers and smiled, “I’m not getting second thoughts, Liam. I just got, uh, a bit distracted, that’s all.”

Liam let out a breath. And smiled. It took all of Cassie’s willpower not to jump him right then and there. She moved to stand up again, this time dragging Liam with her.

“How about we talk about destinations over Sunday roast?”

Aunt Clara had the staff set up chairs and tables in the solarium. Far more personal and intimate than the rooms they’ve previously eaten in. As she and Liam stepped aside for one of the staff members, Cassie was suddenly hit with the thought that this might be her Auntie’s own little way of fully welcoming Liam in. Cassie smiled.

“So… what were you say—“

“Mommy!” a little blur ran into the room and crashed into her legs. Surprised, Cassie stumbled back. Liam’s hands were suddenly there to support her.

“Careful,” Liam said over her shoulder.

“Sorry Mommy!” their little terror said before zooming out again. The staff, all too used to Lucas’ hijinks, calmly stepped aside, indulgent smiles on their faces.

“Okay, who gave him sugar this time?” Cassie demanded once she straightened up. Briar who had followed into the room shrugged and smiled, looking over her shoulder.

“Who indeed?”

Eyes wide with realisation, Cassie whirled around and glared at Liam.

“You!” she gasped, jabbing a finger at him. Liam quickly stepped back and raised his hands, a placating gesture that she barely noticed. And to think she was swooning earlier!

“I just gave him one cookie — “he quickly closed his mouth when she scowled. Cassie ignored the small burst of satisfaction at the sight.

“You deal with him when he crashes from his sugar high.” She said as she crossed her arms.

Liam nodded quickly, his eyes wide. “Of course. Anything you need.”

Cassie’s heart melted. No! I’m annoyed! I should be annoyed! She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a speech when her aunt’s voice stopped her.

“Am I interrupting?”

Cassie turned her head towards the doorway. From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam do the same.

“Auntie!”

“Not at all, my lady, “Liam answered smoothly. A glance told her he had quickly regained some composure. Shit! I must look like a mess, came her flustered thought.

“Well, if you say so…” her aunt trailed off. She shook her head. “Actually dear, can we pop into the study for a bit? I need to talk to you about something.”

At Cassie’s frown, she smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“I’ll go take care of Lucas,” Liam piped up beside her. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze and took his leave with a smile to her and her aunt.

Cassie spared a moment to watch him walk away.

“He’s not going anywhere, you know,” her aunt’s words snapped Cassie out of her trance. Clara was wearing a teasing smirk when Cassandra looked at her aunt’s direction.

“I know that,” she mumbled as she turned and walked to her aunt’s side. “Did something happen?”

“In a manner of speaking,” her aunt replied as they walked towards the stairs. She smiled, the reassurance familiar as it was welcome. “I meant it when I said it’s nothing bad.”

Her aunt walked into her study, making a beeline towards one of the display cases near the far wall. Cassie followed, confusion turning into apprehension. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Small, hesitant steps brought her a little closer.

Aunt Clara now stood in front of a familiar set of jewellery. The Edgewater Jewels, one of her family’s sources of pride, glittered in the midmorning sunlight that streamed into the study. Whoever holds the jewels holds the very essence of Edgewater, her aunt used to joke. But Cassie knew that it was a saying that had been passed down from generation to generation. There was a reason most of the jewellery Gran left her were coloured gold and blue. It was part of their heritage. And it was usually entrusted to the heir of the estate. Which also meant heir to the title and all the holdings and responsibilities that come along with the honour.

Cassie felt her eyes widen as she turned to her aunt.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it means.”

Aunt Clara’s smile was small and sad. Like Gran’s all those years ago. But unlike her grandmother, who tucked her head and hidden away during a confrontation, Aunt Clara held her chin high and looked Cassie in the eye. Apprehension caused butterflies to flutter in Cassie’s stomach. Her gaze fell to the jewels, still glinting after centuries of use.

“Can I at least tell you why?”

“Auntie—“

“I know you said you’d think about it. And I respect that, love. And I would have given you all the time that you need, but circumstances rarely go the way we want them to, you know that,” her aunt took a step towards her. Cassie felt rooted on the spot. “Please understand that I am not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. What I want – what I’ve always wanted, is to protect you and Lucas. And short of prohibiting you to go, this is the best way I can think of.”

Aunt Clara was now standing in front of her. She gently took Cassandra’s hands. “Even if it’s just by name, I’d like you to be the heir to Edgewater.”

----

The Duchy of Krona

“My lady, the media have been sending emails asking for an update on our monarch’s location,” Justin told her as she stepped out of the car. Suppressing the urge to sigh in exasperation, Kiara quickly composed herself and turned to her secretary.

Be careful around that one, Olivia had told her. Since then, she had felt like she was walking on eggshells around her own secretary. It was an inconvenience, but better safe than sorry, as the old saying goes. Keeping her face blank, she took care in choosing her next words.

“Justin, I already told you to take care of that.”

He bobbed his head, making a great show of being contrite. “Yes, my lady. But they’ve been calling and asking nonstop—“

“Then tell them again. The King is currently engaged in an important diplomatic summit in Europe. And this time, remind them that due to the sensitive nature of such events, we can’t broadcast the specifics until His Majesty’s return.”

There was a flash of frustration in Justin’s face before he schooled his features. Frustration and something darker. Beneath her calm façade, Kiara felt cold. Olivia told her she and her network are working on discovering what’s really going on. But their investigation had yielded nothing substantial just yet. At least, not on that front.

It couldn’t come soon enough.

Kiara swallowed her sudden fear and turned away, towards the main estate of House Amaranth. But it gave us an edge over Madeleine.

She set a brisk pace, quickly reaching the entrance and the line of staff members that await her. Justin at her heels. Is that even your real name?

Kiara took another deep breath. No use in engaging in multiple fronts, as Olivia would say. If he is a player, he will soon make his move. But right now, it’s my turn.

Adelaide was the first one to greet her in the sitting room. The usual sparkle that the older woman used to exhibit had dimmed. Like a paper doll, she thought with a pang of pity. Kiara felt for the Duchess. We are not the only ones that Madeleine’s schemes had hurt. A pity it must end this way.

Kiara stood up and offered a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

Adelaide offered her a smile that echoed her old one. “My lady. Despite current circumstances, I must say, I’m glad you came calling. Tea?”

Kiara smiled and nodded. This is my element. I can do this. And I will do this well.

“Yes, please.”

If the duchess seemed off when Kiara arrived, she was downright ashen when they finished their tea. A paper doll that’s about to be set alight. Oh, how I hate that it came to this!

Adelaide’s teacup rattled slightly as she set it on the table. She seemed to sag into her chair. Kiara kept her hands clasped together on her lap. She did not want to know if it trembled.

Silence reigned between them. Kiara could hear the faint ticking of a clock. Unbidden, her gaze went to the window. Summer finally came. But why do I still feel cold? God, I wish Hana’s here.

“If — “Adelaide’s voice cut through the chasm between them. Kiara turned to face the duchess once more. “If what you say is true, my house will be in ruins,” she barked out a laugh. Kiara stared. Its cynical edge was so different from what she had previously known from the older woman. “More than it already is.”

Despite her training, Kiara longed to comfort the older woman. She’s always been kind to me, even before all this happened. Instead of the comforting hand that she wanted to extend, Kiara reached into her purse and pulled out a sealed envelope. Still keeping her silence, she slid it towards Adelaide’s direction.

“I’m afraid that years of evidence proves its validity, Adelaide.”

The Duchess of Krona stared at the envelope in front of her.

“Has the king been told?”

“… not yet.”

“But are you going to tell him?”

Kiara hesitated. “He has to know.”

“I suppose you want me to stop Madeleine’s campaign in exchange for his majesty’s continued ignorance?”

Kiara kept her face carefully blank. It may be diplomacy’s last tool, but I’ve never truly liked blackmail. And it was blackmail, no matter how much they’d like to sugar-coat it.

“Nothing so drastic, Adelaide. I simply ask for a private audience with your daughter.”

“But you’re still going to tell Liam.” Defeat was written on the duchess’ shoulders.

Kiara softened her tone. “He has the right to know, my lady. And this would worsen if he found out that this had been hidden from him,” Kiara hesitated before going off the script that Olivia and Hana helped her write. “Liam is not his father.”

Adelaide looked up and met Kiara’s eyes, hesitation and cautious hope in her gaze. “He’ll see that you and your house have been unwitting accomplices. The fault lies with Godfrey.”

Adelaide hesitated. “And my daughter?”

Kiara sighed; her face the very picture of uncertainty, despite the satisfaction growing in her chest.

“That would depend on whether we meet and talk, Adelaide.”

The duchess straightened in her seat.

“Very well. You’ll have your meeting.” She moved to stand up. “I do hope you succeed. For all our sakes.”

----

The Royal Palace

Hana quickly tossed aside the papers she had been reviewing when she saw her phone light up. Ignoring the quizzical looks that Olivia and Leo sent her, she quickly seized her phone and opened it.

“It’s Kiara!” Her two companions paused in their respective tasks. “She’s in!” Hana announced into the room.

“Good,” Olivia said, a smirk blooming on her face. “And the secretary?”

Hana scanned the message, “she sent him off on another task. She and Madeleine would be alone.”

“What happens now?” Leo asked as he began to pace the room. “Was the bastard there?” he spat out.

“She didn’t say…” Hana trailed off.

“That would mean he’s still in his estates in the UK,” Olivia quickly cut in. Yesterday’s revelation had shaken them to the core, Leo most of all. Despite being her stepson, Leo had spent more time with Eleanor than Liam. She had practically raised him even before she had married Constantine. She was the woman he recognised as his mother. And to find that her killer had walked free for years… Katie and Olivia had barely stopped him from going after Godfrey. To say the last twenty-four hours had been fraught would be an understatement.

The older Rys grunted in acknowledgement before starting another round of agitated pacing. Like a lion in a cage, she thought before turning her attention back to Olivia.

“Should we tell Liam now?” she asked softly.

“We should have told him as soon as we confirmed it,” Leo grumbled before Olivia answered her.

“And we will tell him. Preferably in person,” Olivia retorted. Hana opened her mouth to agree with the duchess when her phone rang again. She stared at the screen, apprehension filling her.

“It’s Liam,” she announced. Olivia and Leo froze.

“Answer it, Hana,” Leo said urgently. The unanswered question hung in the air. Does he know?

“Put it on speaker,” Olivia quickly added.

With fingers that trembled slightly, she answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hana!” Liam’s voice seemed to cement them in place. Faintly, they could hear a child’s laughter in the background. The three of them looked at each other, wide-eyed and on the verge of panic. Her heart was beating so fast, she was half afraid it would burst out of her chest. For one brief moment, Hana scrambled for a scrap of composure.

She managed a soft “Your Majesty” before another voice snapped her out of the stupor she was falling into.

“… Lucas!”

Hana straightened. “Was that—?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! That was Cassie. Would you like to say hi?”

“Oh! Oh, um—“she cast another wide-eyed look around the room, their conversation before weighing on them. Olivia hesitated, but Leo took a step forward. Before either of them managed a word, Liam’s voice unknowingly interrupted them.

“Lucas, don’t—“Hana and the others could just make out the sound of a splash. A scuffling sound followed.

“Liam?” Confusion mixed with the apprehension inside her.

There was a pause. The three of them barely breathed.

“Hana, are you still there?” Liam’s voice sounded harried this time. “I’m so sorry, but I have to cut this short. Cassie’s got Lucas inside. Maybe you two can talk some other time? Maybe later?”

“Oh! That’s fine. What happened? If I might ask.”

Liam’s voice was tinged with amusement when he answered, “He crashed his bike into the lake.”

Hana smiled.

“That’s not why I called though,” Hana suddenly felt cold. All too aware of the vacant seat that Kiara used to occupy. Does he know? The anxious thought circled her mind once more. And judging by the way Olivia and Leo hung on Liam’s next words, she wasn’t the only one.

How do you tell one of your closest friends that you’ve uncovered the culprit behind his mother’s death?

“Can you book a flight to London tomorrow? Cassie and I need your expertise on something.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Olivia insisted. Hana completely agrees with her. Across the table, with arms crossed and agitated, Leo glared at the both of them.

“He’s my brother,” Leo insisted. “What we found here should come from me, Olivia. You know that.”

“For the last time, I’m not saying you can’t tell Liam, I’m saying you can’t go!” Olivia snapped as she stood up. Hana could feel a headache forming around her temples.

“Besides, we don’t know what Liam and Cassandra need me for,” Hana added before her companion’s agreement turned into a shouting match.

“That’s obvious, he’s planning on bringing her and my nephew back here.”

“You don’t know that,” Hana countered, taking care to soften her tone. The last thing she needs is for this to escalate.

Olivia shook her head, “He’s got a point.” Leo opened his mouth, intent on driving his point home and getting his way. Olivia fixed him with a glare and added, “Which is why Hana has to go.”

“Olivia—“

“No.”

“But—“

“We need you here,” Olivia went on. “Abdicated or not, you’re the last adult Rys in the palace. You lend some legitimacy over our orders, so unless you want to tell your brother how you’ve disregarded his instructions, you will stay here.”

Leo scowled. He glanced at Hana, silently asking for support. Hana pursed her lips and shook her head. He slumped in his seat.

“Besides, Rashad’s also going on a business trip. People won’t think it’s strange that I boarded a plane with him.”

Leo scowled as he looked out the window.

Hana and Olivia shared a glance, a question between them. A moment passed, and Olivia shrugged. My move then. She glanced at Leo’s still sullen form. Compromise it is.

“I won’t tell Liam until you could, Leo. I promise.”

----

Leo kept looking through the window even after Hana and Olivia had left. Yesterday’s events played on a loop in his mind. It’s been decades, I thought I’d gotten over this.

But Leo could still remember the sinking feeling of watching the woman he’d known as his mother gasp for breath. Could still recall the frantic rush to her side, the way her hands had gone limp, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the cold sterile hospital. He could still remember, with frightening clarity, how Liam, still a little kid really, looked so lost when the doctors announced that there was nothing they could do. The way his little brother curled up in his arms, shaking and sobbing when it finally sunk in. The funeral and the empty years; years that Eleanor Rys should have lived if not for some heartless bastard and an innocent little goblet.

And to find that the bastard who did this to her was under their noses this whole time? That he had been one of Constantine’s cronies? Rage could hardly describe what Leo had felt. He wanted to get out there and catch him. Make him pay for what he did.

Katie had been nearly reduced to tears before he had agreed to stay and wait. Leo had agreed reluctantly, remembering his past sins. But his urge to do something, anything at all, remains bubbling under the surface, just waiting for the smallest push. Liam’s phone call had been the prime opportunity. But Olivia’s threat and his past regrets kept him again. Liam missed four years of his son’s life while he had gallivanted around the world. The least he can do is stay in Cordonia and do what Liam wanted them to do.

This doesn’t mean I still can’t make Godfrey pay. I’ll –

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Before he could stand up and open it, Bertrand Beaumont had stepped inside the room, head held high and nose in the air. Leo resisted the urge to correct his posture.

“Your—“

“Bertrand, please. Don’t call me that.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The older man nodded and adjusted his cuff. Posture perfect and correct. Leave it to Bertrand to disguise awkwardness with a dignified response.

“I came here as fast as I could,” Bertrand said as he stepped into the room. Remembering the discreet conversation he had with Liam about the Beaumont’s finances, Leo kept silent. Bertrand dislikes showing weakness, especially among his peers.

“You’d want to see Maxwell then?”

At Bertrand’s nod, Leo stood up and walked towards one of his oldest friends. He clasped Bertrand’s shoulder and tried to give him a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to work. Leo tried not to take it personally.

“Let’s go then,” Leo paused just beyond the threshold. “Although, word of advice? Go easy on him.”

Leo wants nothing more than to find Godfrey and make him pay, but he’ll be damned if he lets Liam down again.

“Let me get this straight, you knew where Lady Savannah was this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Standing with his back against the wall, Leo heaved a sigh. What part of go easy did you not understand Bertie?

Maxwell opened his mouth once more to answer his brother and winced as he did so. Leo saw him rub his bruised jaw. Bertrand, still pacing and getting red in the face, did not stop his tirade to listen. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Of all the—”

Leo thinks he saw the moment Maxwell snapped. The younger man stood, squared his shoulders, and whirled around to face his brother.

“I had to help her, Bertrand! She was pregnant with my nephew!”

Leo suppressed the urge to whistle. I really shouldn’t be part of this conversation. He glanced at the closed door behind Bertrand. But I can’t walk out without disturbing these two.

“I—your what?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bertie so speechless! Maxwell, emboldened by his brother’s response, continued.

“Savannah was pregnant with your child when she ran away. She said you rejected her!”

“I — “Bertrand seemed to have completely lost his composure. He reached out and clutched the back of the chaise lounge. His knuckles were white.

I really shouldn’t be here…

Leo looked away from the brothers. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated the courtyard below. He felt a smile creep onto his face. The twins were out and about. Sabrina, his eldest by a whole ten minutes, was busy drawing the various blossoms in the flower beds. Mother loved those flowers too…

Leo shook his head, half hoping the physical act would also shake off his thoughts. He immediately sought his youngest, a reflex he had developed as soon as they started toddling around. Samantha was bending over the fountain, no doubt looking at the pennies on the bottom. He wanted to name them after Eleanor, but he knew that Liam deserved that honour. Besides, they are named after her, in a way. Middle names are the same thing, right?

A sudden noise interrupted his thoughts. He turned to look at the Brothers Beaumont again. Bertrand was sitting in the lounge. Maxwell looked uncertain.

Leo opened his mouth to suggest drinks, but a knock interrupted him. All three of them turned toward the sound.

Leo stepped forward.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a woman wearing a nondescript suit poked her head in. It took a moment for Leo to put a name to the face.

“Agent Mara, what is it?”

“Sir, someone’s looking for you at the gates. She said you were expecting her.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Leo stepped forward. At the corner of his eye, he could see Bertrand and Maxwell carefully turn around, giving him as much privacy as the room could afford. Gratitude for the brothers bubbled in his chest.

“Who is it?”

Mara hesitated.

“Well?”

“She-she told us her name was Cordelia, sir. Cordelia Foredale.”

----

East Wing, the Royal Palace

“How’re your knuckles?”

Drake grunted as Savannah, who did not wait for his answer, grabbed his right hand and inspected his yellowing bruise.

“Are you talking to me now?” he said, immediately regretting his words. Savannah had all but ignored him after he punched Maxwell. A glare was the answer he received. Drake sighed.

He can’t help but feel like everyone was blaming him for one thing or another. Bastien was ignoring his calls, a sure sign that the older man was annoyed at him, while Olivia was pissed at him (nothing new but this one was on him, he’ll readily admit that). He knew he abandoned his assigned duties, so their reaction was a bitter pill that he had to swallow.

Hana and Kiara were keeping their distance, but he knew that they sided with Maxwell, and Leo’s accusing stare was directed at him and Maxwell both. So he can live with that. What stings the most was that Savannah was mad at him and his nephew (he has a nephew!) was wary around him.

And Liam’s out of the country, probably getting cosy with Angeles…

The pain in his knuckles snapped him from his thoughts. Drake was almost glad for it.

There’s a very big chance that Cassandra will come back into their lives. Drake doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the very thought of her sent tingles down his spine (he ignored them as he had four years ago), and on the other, she’s probably coming back with Liam. Try as he might, that old, buried and suppressed pangs of jealousy had reared its ugly head once more.

There was a mention of a little boy too. Their boy, if he got that right. Drake refused to acknowledge the knot of emotions he felt at the thought.

I could really use a drink right now.

“Done.” In a flash, Savannah had stood up and walked away from him. Drake could make out Bartie’s head as it poked out of an open doorway.

He inspected the bandage on his hand.

“Thanks, sis,” he said into the empty room.

----

Meanwhile, in Fydelia

To an outsider’s perspective, it did not look like a stand-off. Just two ladies having tea on a balcony. Sophistication at its finest. From a young age, they have been taught how to disguise negotiations as pleasant small talk. How silence can answer a question as well as any given answer. They had been taught how to be graceful swans on the outside, never letting slip the machinations that lurked underneath their perfect façade.

A pale delicate hand calmly picked up her teacup, raised it to her scarlet stained lips and took a dainty sip. Kiara’s well-trained eyes observed the movement and catalogued it in her mind. It seemed like her hostess would insist on some juvenile power play right off the bat. Kiara took in Madeleine’s demeanour; shoulders back and chin lifted. Smug despite her courtly mask.

She thinks, because I came to her first, that she has the upper hand, Kiara thought, amused at the thought. Whatever pity she might have felt for the mother, unfortunately, did not extend to the daughter. Adelaide might have been an unwitting victim in this scenario, but we all knew that Madeleine’s actions are her own. She knew what she was doing from the start. And for whatever reason, she made herself believe that she can win in this hopeless endeavour. Kiara took another moment to study the Countess by taking a sip of her own tea. Let Madeleine think she has me on the ropes. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish from all of this?

“I do hope the tea is to your liking, Lady Kiara. I seem to recall you favour the more traditional favours?”

“The tea and the service is, as always, perfectly adequate, my lady,” Kiara demurred, taking silent satisfaction with the way Madeleine’s lips twisted at the insult. Ever the perfectionist.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I find myself tired of courtly games lately,” Madeleine said, annoyance clear in her eyes. Whatever happened to patience Madeleine? Kiara’s quite certain that amusement was clear in her eyes.

“Well?” Madeleine snapped. For a moment, Kiara remembered all those uncertain hours under her thumb. Of all the times the woman before took genuine pleasure at breaking Hana apart at the seams. You’ll never see so much as the shine off the crown if I had anything to say about it.

Kiara raised an eyebrow. Madeleine’s own sculpted eyebrows started to furrow. What? Did you think I came all this way to hand you your imagined victory?

“I came to do you a favour actually,” Kiara answered coolly.

Madeleine scoffed. “And what favour is that exactly? From where I’m standing, you and yours are the ones who need a favour,” Madeleine barred her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Has the King gotten so desperate that he sent one of his lackeys to grovel at my feet?” She leaned back, comfortably rearranging herself on her chair, the picture of smug satisfaction. “Well, tell him, he has to be the one doing the grovelling. The satisfaction would be sweeter when I personally reject it.”

Kiara calmly sipped her tea, letting Madeleine have her brief moment of glory. Well, a supposed moment of glory, she amended in her head.

A moment passed. Uncertainty entered Madeleine’s eyes.

“Are you done?” Kiara asked calmly. My turn.

Madeleine opened her mouth to retort, but Kiara did not give her a chance.

“If you want the continued existence of your House and holdings, you will cease this meaningless smear campaign at once.”

Anger flashed across Madeleine’s features. She opened her mouth once more. Kiara forged on, smoothly reaching into her bag and taking the same envelope that she had presented to Adelaide mere hours ago. She laid it on the table with a flourish.

“And what’s this?” Madeleine asked, her anger temporarily curbed.

“Why don’t you take a peak?”

“If this is some hare-brained scheme of Liam’s—“

“Just read the contents, Madeleine,” Kiara said, her voice curt.

The countess snatched the envelope up. Her face paled at what she read. Madeleine’s porcelain hands held a small tremble when she set it down again.

“You have already hurt your standing in the nobility’s eyes when you started this campaign. And while free speech is a right that is encouraged in this kingdom, I doubt you’ll be thrilled if we use that self-same right to reveal what your father did to Queen Eleanor all those years ago. Treason is a heavier stain on one’s reputation than mere rumours, is it not?”

Madeleine did not answer. Her eyes were still fixed on the envelope’s contents.

Kiara allowed herself a small smile, “luckily the king and his brother are generous enough to give you a warning.” She leaned forward, now on the offence. “But let me make myself clear. Continue in this ridiculous charade and the court, not to mention the entire world, will know just how many skeletons your father hides.”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Madeleine interjected.

“Perhaps,” Kiara allowed. “But with your well-known outbursts and the campaign, do you think the world will care?”

“They will if they know what’s good for them. The media—“

“Has grown tired of you,” Kiara finished. “After all, all you’ve ever given them are rumours. Were you ever planning on following the story through? Or did you just expect the media to fawn and fall at your feet like when you were still on top?”

“I—“

Now for my gambit.

“Face it, Madeleine. You’ve lost your crown. Do you really want the whole world to see you lose your dignity and your House?”

Green eyes set in a paper pale face stared at her. And for the first time since meeting her, Kiara had the genuine pleasure of seeing Madeleine speechless.

“And we don’t want that, do we? After all, this would mean the total collapse of House Amaranth. All those centuries of prestige reduced to mere rubble by you.”

“Now see here—“

“I really don’t think you have any bargaining chip left, my lady,” Kiara directed a smile at Madeleine’s direction.

“W-what do you want from me?” Madeleine asked, voice cracking. Her whole body was shaking. A stone statue crumbling before Kiara’s eyes.

“I tire of this courtly game,” Kiara countered. Madeleine flinched. “I think you know exactly what we want, Madeleine. Redact your statements, issue a formal apology and stop your hopeless campaign once and for all.”

“My reputation—“

“Is already in shambles. Imagine what would happen if this got out.”

Kiara stood up, smoothly plucking the folder from Madeleine’s hands.

“My people will be in touch,” she said as she walked out. She paused at the entrance of the balcony. “See? I am doing you a favour.”

She spared a moment to glance at her fallen opponent. Madeleine barely moved, except for a tiny nod. Her head barely moved, but it was enough. She had accepted the deal. Defeat seemed to be settling on the Countess’ shoulders. Kiara whirled around, a smile tugging at her face.

Checkmate.

----

The Royal Palace

Leo strode through one of the palace’s corridors, Agent Mara a step behind. Questions without answers whirled round and round in his head. Why here? Why now? What now? What does she want?

Leo scowled as he entered the lower levels of the palace. Old stone, centuries-old and cool to the touch, replaced the gilt and glamour of the upper levels. Leo repressed a shiver. It was always cool down here, and it will get colder the farther they descend. Harsh fluorescent lights replaced the torches used centuries ago, but they remain along the walls, a reminder of the Palace’s real age. It was older than it looked.

Generations of constant rebuilding had changed the façade of the one above ground. It is only when you get down to the lower levels, to the underbelly, that you remember that the Palace stands where an old medieval keep once stood. There had even been stories, mere fancy really, that Kenna Rys, their mythical ancestor, had once used the old keep as a base during one war or another. Liam’s always the one who paid attention to those.

At the thought of his brother, Leo’s mood turned sombre, more contemplative.

First, we discover Constantine’s secrets, then Liam finds out he has a long-lost son, then this whole business between Drake and Maxwell, I find out fucking Godfrey’s behind Mother’s death and now this? It’s barely been a month!

Another agent greeted them when they reached the end of a corridor. Leo knew from growing up in the palace that they had her inside an interrogation room. Leo could feel his heart beating hard. He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants before taking a deep breath and nodding to one of the agents.

They opened the door.

Leo gulped.

He took a tentative step. And then another.

He was standing at the threshold.

Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

Leo had been told from a young age that he looked like his mother. That the only thing he had inherited from his father was his blue eyes.

Beyond hazy recollections that were carelessly dismissed in favour of more fond memories of Eleanor and baby Liam, Leo had next to no memory of what his birth mother looked like. When he met her again after twenty-odd years, her hair was more grey than blonde, her hazel eyes were surrounded by crows feet that made him wonder if she had been happier during the years she kept away compared to the years she had spent with him and his father. She had constantly looked down when he met her again, all those years ago. Had barely raised neither eyes nor voice when he had proclaimed a dead woman to be the mother he preferred. She had just nodded and asked in a small voice to see the occasional picture of him and the twins. Aside from lukewarm emails and the occasional promised picture, she had stayed away, as she had for most of his life. Leo preferred it that way, if he was being honest with himself.

After meeting with Clara Harper, Leo could see some faint echo, the barest hint of resemblance on their features. Unlike his, no – their — distant cousin, Cordelia held none of the iron spine that defined his—their – relative. If Clara was grace, poise and eloquence, able to command a room, her distant family member was the silent one.

But, Leo conceded, she had been high spirited once. During their father’s social season. She had enough charm and energy once. At least enough to secure her place as Constantine’s bride.

Looking at the woman sitting opposite him, Leo couldn’t help but wonder if Constantine was the reason Cordelia retreated into herself. He won’t be surprised if that was the case.

His birth mother rose from her seat when she saw him enter the room. She was a short woman. The few pictures he saw growing up featured a delicate, petite woman, more doll than human. A perfect accessory for this father to dangle on his arms. Now, she seemed to fold into herself, as if trying to make herself smaller.

“Leo,” she breathed. “You came.” A tentative smile bloomed on her face. There was a touch of relief in the curve of her lips.

“I did,” Leo stepped further into the room. “I wasn’t expecting you’d come here.” Wasn’t expecting you’d want to come back.

“Yes – well, the email you sent me— “she abruptly stopped. Her eyes darted around the room. Wary and watchful. Fearful too, Leo saw with a pang. Damn you, old man.

“It’s fine,” Leo assured her. “We’re safe here.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that,” she muttered. “Can we talk somewhere more open? I don’t do so well underground.”

“I— “Leo furrowed his eyebrows. Cordelia had no problems underground, nor was she claustrophobic. “All right.”

They ended up on the banks of the little lake, just past the gardens that Eleanor so loved. It somehow felt wrong to take her to the place that Leo had always associated with Eleanor.

The late afternoon sun was on its way to twilight, but there was still enough light that the path lights hadn’t been lit yet.

He glanced at his birth mother. Silence mixed with awkwardness hung in the air between them. He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t really claustrophobic are you?”

She shook her head.

“So… why exactly—“

“I thought it would be safer this way,” she answered in a rush, her voice coming out stronger than it had before.

Suspicion rose within Leo.

“Why?”

“You never know who’s listening,” she said lightly, expression turning pleasant. “Will you walk with me? Just around the lake.”

“Who would want to listen?” Leo asked even as he walked along with her. “We’re at the heart of the palace. That was the safest we can be.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“I — “Leo thought of Kiara’s secretary.

Cordelia nodded, interpreting his expression.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though.”

“I thought it would be safer to talk in person. Emails and phone calls can be easily traced.”

“Right,” Leo mumbled. He glanced at Cordelia again. “We –uh – found Edgewater on our own…” he trailed off.

Cordelia smiled, “I know.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“I saw the pictures from the state dinner. It’s been years but I still know how Cousin Clara looked like.”

“Oh.”

“I hope she’s well?”

“Last I saw her, yeah,” Leo looked around. The shadows were getting longer. “She found your diary, by the way.”

Cordelia startled, “She did?”

Leo nodded then added, “Liam and I read it.”

“So… you know.”

“Is that why you came here?”

She hesitated, but she nodded.

“Is that why you left?”

“Among other things.”

“Right.”

“How did he manage it, by the way?”

“Manage what?”

Leo shrugged, “all of it? How did people not know what was happening?”

“Simple,” Cordelia said as she looked up. “Panem et circenses. The people were placated because he provided them with bread and entertainment. Constantine spearheaded casinos, increased the economy, and kept all the bloodstains behind closed doors. That was his greatest genius, really.”

“And no one noticed?”

“He was quick to silence those who did.”

A moment passed. They have reached the other end of the lake now. Cordelia had stopped walking. Leo turned to face her. The afternoon had finally fallen into twilight.

“Speaking of, did you come across the Severus clan when you read it?”

“Is that the one where he ordered a whole line killed?”

“… yes.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“There’s a group that formed right after you were born. They called themselves The Sons of Earth. Have you heard of them?” At the shake of Leo’s head, she continued. “I’m not surprised. They were just starting out when I left.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Cordelia turned and looked Leo in the eye, “because I fear that Constantine’s actions have caught up with us all.”

----

Edgewater the next day

A three-hour flight and an uneasy night spent in London, Hana was finally afforded her first glimpse of Edgewater. Her research into the Countess’ family revealed that the estate had been in their family for almost as long as their line had existed. A part of her relished the chance to visit a historical site with such deep and tangible roots (their collection of art and other artefacts alone would be enormous! Hana felt giddy just thinking about it). Another part was almost jumping up and down in excitement at the thought of seeing her first true friend once more. It was almost enough to drown the small part of her that wonders whether Liam already knew the truth. The presence of Bastien at the entrance did not help soothe her nerves.

The car slowed to a stop. Bastien walked over and opened the car door, offering a hand as he did so. Hana hesitated for a moment, doubts swirling around her mind, before taking Bastien’s hand and stepping out of the car.

One of the staff members must have been waiting on the other side of the doors as it swung open when she had finally righted herself. She could make out a line of staff through the doorway. Her promise to Leo rang in her mind once more.

With one final glance around the lush grounds and the impressive estate (Georgian, she noted with interest), Hana took a deep breath and stepped forward, through the threshold and into Edgewater.

Hana would be the first to admit that she had always viewed Cassandra through rose-tinted lenses. She was Hana’s first true friend, the woman who helped her stand up for herself. Cassie was the adventurous sister she had always wanted. And for a few short months, they had been sisters in all but blood.

Now, four years and a whole other set of separate experiences later, Hana once again meets Cassandra. Her hair’s shorter, Hana thought absently. The face that stared back at her was slightly more mature than the one she remembered. Hana only had the chance to observe those things as Cassandra, who spotted her as soon as she entered, broke into a smile and all but bounded over to give Hana a big hug. Hana hugged her tightly back, a smile blooming on her own face. It was the reunion that she had envisioned all these years.

“Hana! I missed you so much!”

“Oh, Cassie! I missed you too!”

Lucas may look like the spitting image of his father, but Hana can’t help but see the Cassie in him. He was an inquisitive child, bursting with questions and with enough energy to drive Hana dizzy after a time.

He had been a little hesitant when they had finally been introduced. He had been head peeking behind Liam’s legs when Cassie and Hana had reunited (At last! After four long years!) but he had warmed up to her when Cassie introduced her as a dear friend.

“Do you like cookies?” the little boy (the little prince!) asked Hana during a rare moment of silence. He stared at her with Liam’s eyes and with Cassie’s smile. The perfect little blend of her two dearest friends. She thought of the discoveries done in Cordonia, both before and after he arrived in their lives. Her heart went out to this little boy. Your grandfather’s actions have hurt so many. He unknowingly hurt you too…

“I – yes, I like cookies.”

He beamed at her, and Hana returned it with a smile of her own. How could she not?

“Me too!” he held out a chocolate chip cookie with a noticeable bite at its side. “D’you want one?”

Despite the apprehension that took root inside her, Hana let out a laugh.

“I’d like that very much.”

“So you’re telling me—“

Hana nodded. Cassie clapped both hands to her mouth as she gasped.

“Hana!” she squealed.

Hana blushed and quickly hushed Cassandra while she looked around the empty garden.

“But this is huge!” Cassie protested.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hana said softly, almost mumbling.

“But you and Kiara!”

Hana smiled despite herself.

“Oh, you got it bad,” Cassie teased.

Hana suppressed a snort. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Cassie laughed, loud and whole-bodied. Hana’s restraint lasted for one second before she gave in and joined the laughter.

A throat clearing behind them put a stop to their revelry. They both whirled around to see Liam smiling at them both.

“Is he down?” Cassie asked.

“After putting up a good fight, yes.”

Cassie raised her eyebrows, her smile quickly turning into a smirk. “You didn’t bribe him, did you?”

Liam scoffed, his smile turning bigger, “I’ve been schooled in diplomacy since birth, Cassie. I don’t need to resort to bribery just to get my son to take a nap.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, “uh-huh…”

Now this feels familiar, Hana thought, amused.

“… fine. He will definitely ask to sleep in my room later. I might have promised to build a pillow fort with him.”

Cassie laughed, and Hana couldn’t help but join in. The day was devoid of the heavy clouds one usually associates with London. There was a pleasant breeze, bringing with it the perfume of the blossoms scattered about the garden. Halcyon days, Hana thought with a heavy feeling in her stomach. So rare and so brief. And I might have brought disaster with me…

----

Edgewater, night time

Aunt Clara’s office was bathed in shadows. The moon, barely visible over the top of the trees, did not offer much in the way of illumination. Not tonight, anyway. The fireplace was cold and empty, and only a couple of lamps kept total darkness at bay. Despite the hindrances that the dark might have presented, Cassandra was able to navigate her way through the room.

A few portraits of their ancestors were displayed on the walls; Auntie always liked landscapes better. Cassandra could almost feel the weight of their stares. It made the humid air feel heavier than it should be.

Her eyes landed on the jewels. It had been taken out of the display box for its cleaning. Now they were placed on the desk, in a bed of soft cloth, under the watchful eyes of one Clara Mills-Sinclaire. Her portrait looked nothing like her Aunt Clara, of course, but the way they lifted their chin and stared defiantly at the world echoed each other. Nestled on her ancestor’s head was the same tiara on the desk before her.

Cassie looked down at the jewels once more. Such a small thing, to carry so much history. Cassandra looked up at the portrait again. You didn’t run when the responsibility fell on you. She thought of her son, asleep and snug in his father’s arms. Cassandra wants more nights like that. Her family together. She eyed the jewels again, resolve building itself inside her. I don’t want to run anymore.

With trembling hands, she hesitantly reached for the tiara. Carefully, feeling the weight of her ancestors on her, she lifted the tiara and slowly, delicately placed it on her head. It was lighter than she had expected. Moments passed, and she chanced a look at a nearby mirror. Cassie stared. The tiara had fit her perfectly.

----

Cordonia the next day

Still flush from her victory over Madeleine, Kiara strode through the corridors that led to her office. That’s one obstacle out of the way. Although, I suspect Liam would want a chat with Adelaide…

A glance towards her secretary’s desk told her that Justin, or whatever his name actually is, hasn’t arrived yet. The morning sunlight made the room glow. Outside, the sky was clear, and she had removed a thorn on their side. Things are looking up and Hana’s set to come back with Liam and Lady Cassandra in the evening. Perhaps they will bring their son with them…

With a smile, Kiara opened the door to the office.

She froze.

Leaning over her desk, papers and other state documents in hand, was her secretary. He looked up as she entered, face twisted in a snarl.

For a moment they stood still, surprise making them freeze in place.

Kiara stood still, rooted on the spot, heart thundering in her chest. Justin held her gaze, something dark and sinister in his eyes.

Then time seemed to move once more, faster than it usually is.

Kiara tried to step backwards, perhaps hoping to gain more ground before the predator pounced.

But Justin was faster.

In a flash, he had leapt across the table, scattering papers and other knick-knacks as he did so. Kiara faintly heard a glass scatter on the floor.

Before she could do more than stumble back, Justin was on her.

Something flashed silver before pain erupted on her side. Something heavy collided with her head.

The world seemed to blur. Sound seemed to fade.

The last thing she saw before her face met the floor was a pair of angry dark eyes, and a smile that resembled a snarl.

----

Gatwick Airport, England

The walls were too white. The room was too bright. Liam resisted the urge to pace. A hand on his back made him tense. A whiff of jasmine caught his attention.

Tension bled out of his body. Her arms wrap around him. He could feel her warmth on his back. Her head barely reached his shoulders.

“Breathe, Liam.”

He did as she asked. He’ll always do as she asked.

He gently turned around and wrapped his own arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. For a moment the world seemed to quiet down.

“Better?”

Liam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cassandra’s lips.

“Much.”

They both looked up as the PA announced their flight was ready. Reluctantly, they untangled themselves from each other. Liam scooped up his son’s sleepy form from one of the lounge chairs. His movement caused Hana to wake up from the nap Cassie suggested. He glanced around the private lounge. All their bags were already on the royal jet.

His eyes landed on Cassandra. He saw her spare one last look through the lounge’s window, a faraway look in her eyes. She pocketed her phone, grasped her trusty messenger bag (the one she had since before they met) and took a deep breath.

Liam crossed the distance between them and reached for her hand. She took it and laced their fingers together.

With one hand holding the love of his life and the other supporting his sleeping son, Liam walked towards the boarding gates.

----

The Dowager Queen

The setting sun caused shadows to stretch across the tarmac. Inside the tinted limousine, the Queen Mother heaved a sigh. The day had been taken a turn that none of them had expected. At least Liam’s finally coming back.

To be honest, Regina was a bit hurt that Liam had not deigned to inform her he was travelling out of the country or the reason behind it. Even an informal email would have done. Or any form of message really, however impersonal it may have looked. She was probably the last person to find out he had gone. I can’t say I can fault him for that. Not after years of passive non-action from my end.

But still…

Regina firmly reigned her thoughts in. She will take what she can salvage from their relationship. After all, she got along with Liam better than she did with Leo. She already made the mistake of being cold towards Katie when they first met and that resulted in her not meeting her grandchildren when they were born. She won’t make the same mistake this time.

But then again, it helps that Liam chose a more competent lady than Leo, circumstances aside. Lady Cassandra could have done well in court, had she stayed all those years ago. Had Constantine not let his paranoia rule him.

No matter. I’ll gladly welcome Liam’s long-lost son and his lady love. It’s the least she can do, really. Besides, Regina liked the idea of more grandchildren. Thank goodness Leo was more flexible in that matter. She had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with his twin daughters.

Regina smiled. Such precocious children! She had already made plans to introduce darling Sabrina to Joelle. Such talent should be encouraged and fostered. And from what she and her staff had gathered from the English Ambassador, Liam’s son – Lucas — was also a bright boy. Regina looks forward to meeting him in person this time.

The shadows lengthened as the sun sunk lower. The royal jet should be near now. Shadows and the twilight had always reminded her of her late husband. Shadows especially.

Oh Connie, so much has been lost because you were afraid. We could have seen our grandchildren grow up together. Your son would have had more time with his own son.

Four years ago

Constantine had been more stubborn than usual. It was so unlike him to get worked up on courtly intrigue, since he usually left such things under her purview.

“But the media’s focused on the engagement right now. I don’t see any harm in letting her come back. It was a misunderstanding at most. I’ll even take her under my wing—“

“No.”

“But Liam—“

“Would be better off if he focused on his own engagement tour. Bringing her back would only distract him.”

She looked at her husband in astonishment, “have you seen how he is right now? Constantine, your son is falling apart! Bringing Lady Cassandra back would do him good. It’s not as if they can change the engagement now—“

Constantine slammed his fist on the desk. Regina jumped, then froze. His eyes were cold with a fury that she had only heard of years ago. Fear churned inside her.

“I said no, Regina! And that is final!”

She had not tried to change his mind since. Not even when she saw how Liam struggled with juggling the crown and his own heartache. And while a part of her felt reassured that Madeleine was chosen as queen once more, it is becoming quickly overshadowed by concern as she watched cracks appear on Liam’s mask. She had tried to offer whatever comfort Liam would accept from her. It helped salvage her relationship with her stepson.

It did not help her relationship with her husband on the other hand.

But she dared not oppose Constantine too much. She knew the fate of his previous wives all too well. And she won’t be any help to Liam or to anybody if she joined that exclusive club. She knew what she married, after all. Or at least some part of it. She dared not look further, dared not put a toe out of line. Scared to peer into the shadow and see what lurked within.

The approaching jet snapped Regina from her musing. She smiled. As the jet landed, and the doors opened and she stepped out of the car, Regina resolves that she’ll do better this time. After all, this is a chance she dared not waste.

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vroenis · 5 years ago

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Lost Legacy Exemplifies Naughty Dog’s Cultural Crisis

There’s a discussion about Ocean’s 8 that positions its existence around whether or not it's necessary as a counterpoint to the Ocean’s reboot - the Ocean’s Cinematic Universe - if you will (what a world we live in) - that it was only made as a gender flip of the reboot that spawned two sequels, three films in total cast almost entirely with men.

My perspective is that as much as I generally enjoyed the Ocean’s reboots for what they were, Ocean’s Eleven should have been a cast entirely with women in the first place.

The heroes we both need and deserve.

Massive spoilers for the original 1960 Lewis Milestone version and the Steven Soderbergh one in 2001 of Ocean’s Eleven - Soderbergh’s flip is of-course that they get to keep the money at the end so that they have to potentially give it back in the sequel he knew he’d be able to make, whereas I doubt Milestone knew he’d ever get a sequel back in the early 60′s so the rub for film-making back then is to burn the money at the end. Nevertheless even for the early 2000′s, the boldest of moves would have been to cast it with women, not to be progressive but also to be progressive, tho that’s still an absurd thought that to cast women is progressive - but to be smart. Ocean’s 8 is a fantastic film, deftly written, paced, acted, shot and edited. Would the world have responded to it in like-kind? I know how *I* would have responded to it, I think you can answer for yourself how societal cultures may have responded at any point from 2001 thru to now. In any case, I have Ocean’s 8 on blu-ray. I love it.

A reader asked me whether I’d played Uncharted: The Lost Legacy after kindly reading through my bludgeoning of Uncharted 4, and seeing as they were patient enough to endure that blood-letting, I felt I owed them and probably Naughty Dog the time of day to give Uncharted-And-A-Half a chance, and I’m really glad I did. Fair warning, there’s a lot I didn’t like about Lost Legacy, and there’s going to be some more pain - a lot of pain. I don’t think any of my tumblr audience is quite on the rest of my socials, but anyone who’s connected to me anywhere else on the Wire was subject to my frustrations as I played thru the game on Saturday, including the blurred image of my Google Keep notes I took while playing the game in preparation for this journal. I keep notes now.

Nevertheless, I can say that on the assumption that the Uncharted series is wrapped, or at least in the narrative arc with these characters as we know them, that Lost Legacy is easily without question my favourite Uncharted game by far.

On that assumption that Uncharted is more or less done, now’s as good a time as any to take a top-down look at the franchise as a whole. I know I already did a fair bit of that in the last piece, but some broader thoughts on what the series does and says have solidified while playing Lost Legacy, and I’ll discuss them as a lead-in to my thoughts on the game.

Again - this is going to be riddled with spoilers for Uncharted: The Lost Legacy and most likely the entire Uncharted series, so if you’ve not played them and are interested in doing so, or don’t want to see them heavily critiqued, please stop here.

The first game was released in 2007 and was apparently in development for roughly three years. What was happening up to and around 2004 to 2007? September 11 had happened in 2001, the world was at war in the Middle East in Afghanistan and second invasion of Iraq had begun in 2003, Hurricane Katrina happened in 2005 - the same year the IRA ended armed conflict in Northern Ireland, 2005 saw the outbreak of H5N1 Avian Flu - topical right now. There are so many more, I can’t list them all here - lots of momentous events that in some way or another highlight community awareness in some way - that’s probably a bit of an obtuse statement but hopefully it’ll string together in a sec. What struck me and a bunch of my friends odd about the first, then the second and then somehow every Uncharted game since, is that Naughty Dog seem to choose an ethnicity for their antagonists and scratch the surface of “what if this element of their cultural violence is bad”, but then leave it so shallow that it remains a caricature and comes off as casually and carelessly racist. The first game frames the theme around Nazis, but the actual enemies are anything but. Yes, they’re intended to be mercenaries, but they’re hardly nondescript, they’re absolutely of very specific ethnicity.

From the second game onward, Naughty Dog seem to want to make use of real world settings and do some nuanced research on actual sociopolitical conflict and I always feel uneasy about how its presented. Lost Legacy begins much the same way and I worried about the tone going in. An active war-zone in India as gravitas to your setting that is then almost completely abandoned until the very end? This is my problem with how the writers treat setting in Uncharted. They use very real conflicts that have real-world consequences for people in which actual lives are lost to inject gravity into their narrative and then quickly discard it for the sake of shenanigans once the wise-cracking starts when the tone shifts gear and the characters themselves take centre-stage in the foreground.

Here’s the thing.

The character’s are enough. I *love* these characters. Their story is fantastic. Nadine’s and Chloe’s story was the best and most cohesive of the entire series. Also it only took me roughly six hours to play thru and I only feel like half of that was wasted! That’s still probably being too generous but I’m grasping for positives, here. Still - I don’t know why the senior production team has never had confidence in the core of their product which is the charm of their characters and the play dynamic - Uncharted is primarily about *seeing* and *doing* - for the most part, unfortunately, separately.

The dialogue between Chloe and Nadine is extremely interesting, it is absolutely the best thing in the game, yet it keeps getting interrupted by stupid gameplay beats due to poor timing of rolling up on level locations. Uncharted 4 was supposed to have locations hidden around levels where you could engage in dialogue between characters but I barely found them - why hide such interesting content in your game?? It’s completely absurd. Then the only few I did find were between Elena and Nathan altho I really don’t think those were meant to be hidden, and they were so poorly written and I hated them so much, I didn’t care to discover any more. Again - no disrespect at all to Nolan North and Troy Baker whom I absolutely adore and respect, but I didn’t find anything engaging or interesting *at all* about the brother narrative. I didn’t care one bit what that nonsense was about. What about Sully? Where’s Sully’s story?? I’m just so - so glad we got a story for Chloe, and that at least Nadine got some great screen time too as a part of it and that it all presented so well.

Before I continue to praise what went well, there are a few things I can’t let pass. While the driving has thankfully improved and controls quite well now, the exclusion of a minimap or GPS HUD element is interesting. I’m fairly certain it’s intentional as to not detract from the game’s clean, cinematic look, to not break immersion, but this just generates a horrific breakdown in actual player experience for me. Without any navigational assists, I constantly got lost and stopped every 20 meters to check the map, frequently driving into dead-ends, off cliffs and past where I wanted or needed to go. The game isn’t a 30 hour open-world experience with distinct and varied landmarks the player will familiarise themselves with and learn to navigate by, for the most part the level is fairly homogeneous in object geometry.

Some of the puzzles take far too long to mechanically execute, in particular the smashy-slashy statue block jumpy stupid whatever it’s called one and the sliding shadow motif. It doesn’t matter that neither actually takes too long once you know the solution, it’s that they feel long and then are actually over-long and also not interesting to mechanically execute. This is due mostly to clunky character animation and animation smoothing, and part of Naughty Dog’s overall obsession with being cinematic which is something I’ll return to towards the end of this piece, something which has been a strength but will ultimately be to their detriment. While cinematic visuals might be a benefit for traversal, it’s something that absolutely does not suit puzzle-solving. In the example of the statue-block puzzle, the hard reset each time the player is hit means laboriously jogging all the way back to the beginning and starting again - it’s just poor puzzle design having to begin again from a full reset. There’s no satisfaction in having to remember the whole thing and while I didn’t look up the solution online, I’m willing to bet many people will have just dialled up a clip on YouTube and copied it without figuring it out themselves. This is a failure of connecting what’s satisfying about moving in your game and what’s satisfying about solving puzzles, something Crystal Dynamics understood far better in the Tomb Raider reboots, in particular the second outing (Rise of) with their much more environment-centric puzzling.

The sliding shadow puzzle just simply takes way too long to jog around the space, then clip onto the hot-zone for each lever, wait for the animation to lift it, wait for the animation for the pieces to slide, rinse, repeat. Once you know what you have to do, it’s overly frustrating actually having to do it.

It brings me to a weird quirk of design where the puzzle designers perhaps don’t understand something that the environmental designers do. Maybe they didn’t get the same little notes in the Slack channel, or Trello board or Teams pin or whatever. Uncharted level-design has almost no back-tracking, less in each successive game, and it’s almost entirely absent from Lost Legacy - you’d have to look closely to realise you’re navigating the same area you came in thru and almost always moving over it in a different way that’s been modified - now it’s flooded, now there’s a bridge, now you’re swinging or leaping or climbing where you weren’t etc. I feel like this is the Hidetaka Miyazaki Souls/Borne effect of level design in which environments are designed to be both realistic and practical.

Great! Good for the level designers. Did the puzzle designers not get that note? Maybe they did. I need to stop thinking that every poor optimisation is a symptom of ignorance - that’s bad form on my part. What’s more likely is it’s a symptom of either bad leadership, poor tool implementation, lack of time or too narrow or strict an observation of representative vision - by which I mean - they can’t change the way the characters move or animate just for puzzles, because it has to be consistent with the cinematic representation of the game as a whole - and that sucks lemons. It means the overall play experience suffers for the sake of the overall cinematic experience except executing a puzzle isn’t cinematic unless it’s expansive...

Like the positive example I’ll give of the light reflector room. Shoplifted from Uncharted 2′s giant knife that has Nathan climb all over a giant knife, Lost Legacy’s light reflector room has slightly less climbing but is a much larger space, more impressive and a much better example of good puzzling in Uncharted. It’s not difficult to solve but again (I think again?) I’ll argue that you don’t come to Uncharted for difficult puzzles - you don’t come to Tomb Raider for difficult puzzles, either.

The puzzles in these games should be mostly environmental because they feel good solving them, and solving them should be more about the doing - the playing - and the playing should be moving - running, jumping, climbing etc.

Both the giant knife and the reflector room are a joy to execute because they’re fantastically realised - large cavernous environments that aren’t annoying to navigate, that give you time to appreciate both the scale of the spaces and the details the designers and artists have put into them. Lost Legacy’s is more impressive because you do a lot more puzzling and spend much more time in its vastly larger space, culminating in combat that usually I would be ho-hum about, but I guess exhibits more animation and destruction tech which while scripted, is still impressive nonetheless given how extremely difficult it is to have interactivity still occurring.

I have a few things I want to mention before I begin to wrap up, given it’s going to be a very long wrap - I’d say I’m taking cues from Joseph Anderson but I’ve always been this verbose.

The medallion puzzles were excellent, in part perhaps because they felt like the closest thing to the Tomb Raider reboots’ challenge tombs. Some of them were silly and lazily implemented, the worst offender being you just had to shoot mans and get the medallion from the lock-box that the mans had put it in (pfft), but the best ones were integrated into the environment such that you may well have walked past or thru areas that were puzzles before you knew what they were. This brings up one of the most interesting things I’ve been turning over for quite some time now. Ben Croshaw aka Yahtzee aka Zero Punctuation may have first mentioned “chest high walls” in his first Gears of War video, but it may well have been an Uncharted game. I don’t remember but he will have thrown in mentions of all the generic cover-shooters as a catch-all for how the environments immediately telegraph that Combat™ will happen. It’s a particularly astute remark and speaks volumes of video game design - developers always seem to have very specific design language to separate traversal, combat and puzzling. While I clearly don’t care for combat most days, and yes - I do acknowledge there are some practical concerns for combat that can’t be avoided, I always envisaged design that blurred the lines between puzzle and environment so that you never quite knew what was and wasn’t a puzzle. Everything should be the puzzle. In some senses, Cyan’s old Myst games were a bit like this but in a very rudimentary and crude way - sure, they’re quite old now, but even those had very clear not puzzle areas. It’s a complex and subtle subject, but something of a study of games like Fireproof Games’ The Room would be in order. Understandably smaller scale, but the thinking behind it is definitely adjacent.

Final notes - the young Indian girl in the prologue has amazing animations that you’ll miss entirely unless you swing the camera yourself. A whole team of people or a single animator has spent hours on those animations - that a director or team leader hasn’t forced the player to see and appreciate them is a disservice.

Every section where you have to do something under pressure like run from mans shooting at you or dash through a lengthy section of crumbling cave network etc. is a horrible play experience of not knowing where to go. They’re trying to inject excitement by applying pressure but there’s no clear guidance and no dependence on player skill, so you end in bizarre fail-states due to going in completely the wrong direction that glitches cameras or scene time-outs resulting in check-points and the whole thing just doesn’t scan as a cinematic experience. I hate hate hate them - you’re subject to the same musical swell that’s supposed to be like a movie only to fail again and it comes off as b-grade and pathetic. Every game has had this problem and it is just straight bad design.

Three? Four? Games in a row, Naughty Dog have recycled;

being pursued on foot by an armoured vehicle crashing through level geometry while you have to run and occasionally shoot/fight mans,

driving down a shanty-town on a hill pursued by an armoured vehicle - perhaps the same one as previous scene

a big chase scene of lots of vehicles jumping from vehicle to vehicle shooting and/or punching mans that may or may not include...

a train combat sequence where you start at the back of the train and work your way to the front of it shooting mans as you go

This lacks creativity at this point. I think duplicating these once each - so you do them twice total across the franchise is fine, but they hit the same beats in the same way - exactly - every time they appear. It just strikes me as Naughty Dog just not knowing what else to do. At one point, I think it was in Uncharted 4, when driving down the shanty-town on the hill, I literally had a brain-fart not knowing which game I was playing because I swear we did it in 2 and 3. Did we do it in 3?? Look, I don’t know. But it’s getting old. At least we didn’t do it in Lost Legacy, but we did the train and I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of doing the same things in the same way. It could have been a train but it should have been in a way that just wasn’t just another Uncharted train. It hasn’t worn thin, it’s worn out.

Overall, the games look great... but playing them feels like they’re stuck in PS2 and early PS3 era philosophies, like Naughty Dog haven’t evolved and don’t realise that people’s brains function much quicker and can process more, or that the media we consume, the games we play function at a higher level and we can digest more, we’re capable of processing higher functions. I’ve been playing Ubisoft’s The Division 2 and enjoying it more the more I play, much to my surprise. I understand the intent behind the gameplay is extremely different to the single-player experience of Uncharted, however there are some parallels in what it achieves animation wise;

The Division is also a cover shooter but of-course as a multiplayer, open-world live-service game, its intent is to telegraph to the player that the entire environment is a permanent play-space in which to always be playing. It utilises an information-rich GUI that is an always-on system with button icons telling the player what button to press over what surfaces to snap to, vault over, climb up, run to (and snap to cover), open and loot, interact with etc. I don’t know if these can be turned off but I like them on. It’s a pretty amazing feat that almost every environmental object has been mapped as a snap-to-cover and/or climbable object. For this reason, the character movement in Division is pretty quick and snappy, however it still manages to have a decent degree of natural human kinetics in the character rigging which is amazing. This means if you move-off from standing still, there’s a slight delay as your “weight” shifts, same if you change direction. When I say “snap” to cover, it’s not actually instantaneous, your character makes a movement and takes time to do so, yet it’s still not sluggish. Somehow the developers have worked at fine-tuning a balance between not-instant, but not too slow.

This is something that even in Lost Legacy, I feel Naughty Dog simply can’t do. The animations are decent during play - they’re outstanding during cutscenes (we’re getting there), but character models have a really awkward relationship with the environment. They clip awkwardly with ladders and buttons and wheels - with puzzles and levers - getting the grappling hook to prompt is again better than Uncharted 4 but still not ideal. I had far fewer glitch-outs than 4 too, which was a significant improvement, but I still had to animate back and forth a few times to get into hot-zones appropriately and with character kinetics not quite right, it wasn’t exactly easy.

And again to be fair, this stuff is suuuuuper difficult. I don’t mean to talk about this stuff like it’s cooking instant ramen. It’s so freaking tough. Rigging and mapping interactive character models has to be one of the most stupendously difficult things a developer has to do - making it work with all that scripting, getting it to play nice with all those assets and lines and lines of coding for the full experience. I have so much respect for game developers and what an astronomical task it is. So when I say I prefer one development team’s product over another’s, I don’t mean to say that the other team is absolute garbage - there are so many things that might contribute to that final product and we have no idea what’s been going on at Naughty Dog. If the team leaders and producers say they’re happy or even if they don’t, and the decision is made to ship, there’s nothing more they can say or do.

If there was one thing I absolutely loved about this game, it was the two main characters and the story that was told about them. I can excuse the main text as the catalyst that brought them together - even to the point that it’s a story about Chloe ultimately deciding what’s important to her. My issue with this comes full circle with the setting being in a real world conflict. There’s a bit of white savour complex in there in that Asav might be the narrative’s antagonist, but he at least is local. It’s not clear exactly what Chloe’s ethnicity is and I’m not here to judge what her stakes are in it because clearly her character has a sense of home and place in India, but she certainly also has a complex sense of being an outsider. So the point is not to judge, but the game also is unclear on its positioning other than she’s the heroic vehicle of deliverance. See what I mean about theme? This is what I mean by you could have just as easily written almost an identical story about Nadine and Chloe, with very similar interactions, tension, redemption and resolve - even with an antagonist, conflict and a happy ending, but either treated real sociopolitical issues with better care or not set your game in them at all. I’m all for setting games in the real world, but if you’re going to do it, do it right. I’m not the person to ask.

I need to be careful not to direct that criticism at the base-level developers nor at Claudia Black who is the manifestation of Chloe’s voice because she does an amazing job of bringing her to life. The casting of Laura Bailey voicing a black South African Nadine was much more awkward given Nadine’s ethnicity wasn’t decided when she was cast - again that’s on Naughty Dog’s leadership, but I won’t knock Laura Bailey for it. It’s easy to say she should have resigned, perhaps she should have, that’s an economical question only Laura can answer and I’m sure it’s not an easy one. Suffice to say, VO work isn’t lucrative.

What a side-track.

I don’t think I ever cared about Nathan. I think I always cared about Elena, and not because WAIFU and also not because WHITE KNIGHT or whatever other bullshit reasons stupid alphagamerz will spit from their frontheads. Elena’s just more interesting, probably because Nathan is written like a design document and Elena’s written like a human being. Naughty Dog want to create a game about adventuring with lush expansive environments, shooty mcshooting and light puzzling. They want it to be cinematic and unrivalled in its quality and they have the smarts to build the tech around it, with Sony’s help. Backed by Sony money, they take VO seriously and do a great job at creating that cinematic experience, coupled with some above-par for video games narrative writing. The problem this introduces for me is Nathan’s raison d'être has to justify everything - action, tension, stupidity...

Nathan Drake really is the design document.

I feel like he’s just the unfortunate side-effect of being central to the game, and it’s typical of my character to just not dig the focus of things and get into subtexts a whole lot more. Often I get into things in the periphery, things adjacent - I don’t love or hate Shakespeare or for that matter Baz Luhrmann but Romeo + Juliet ‘96 is an amazing film and not at all because of the eponymous Romeo and Juliet and again, not for Leonardo di Caprio (spit!) or for Claire Danes (she can stay) but the absolutely divine cast of supporting characters (John Leguizamo will live in my heart forever oh baby).

That Nathan makes stupid decisions is already something that turns me off. That he makes poor decisions because... he’s an orphan? Because... he was bullied? Because... his brother left him? This is why he’s not transparent with his wife? Actually, he’s quite realistic. Except the people like him I’ve known in my life aren’t heroes - they’re pathetic or unreliable or abusive or dangerous. Elena is an adult. She’s not perfect either and that’s also great because neither am I. As a side character she has the conceit of being more nuanced, but as the contra to Nathan, she’s also mature versus his childishness. OOOOAAAAH EVERYONE LOVES A LOVEABLE MANBABY OOAAAH COMEON LIVE A LITTLE EVERYONE’S GOT A LITTLE CHILD STILL IN THEM SOMEWHERE yea fine, I get it, like I’ve said before, yes - he embodies the recklessness and playfulness in us, but that’s a confusing position for a game that frequently tries to ground itself in real world conflict to be taking. You’re reducing him to that but injecting complex and nuanced characters like Elena and now eventually both Chloe and Nadine? I’m telling you now - any male that doesn’t know when it’s appropriate to grow-up, when the time to set aside the playfulness and be TRUTHFUL AND TRANSPARENT WITH HIS PARTNER is a dangerous person and FUCK THAT NOISE. Nathan, as much as I do absolutely - make no mistake - adore Nolan North’s voicing - ends up being another Homer Simpson - as long as you laugh at his stupidity, you’ll excuse it, and you’ll excuse the hurt that’s done by it, and that shit doesn’t fly with me. His redemption was not earned. I say again - Elena should throw him into the sea.

Nadine ends up being a fantastic character, even if she’s given less narrative time, she’s a great example of her behaviour telling more story in contrast to Chloe getting to reveal her past and it’s nice to see them play off one another. I feel Nadine and Chloe as characters hit great story beats in ways Nathan didn’t get to with pretty much any of the other characters in four games - not Sully, not Elena, not his brother, not even Chloe - all told, we never actually get any back-story on Nathan and Chloe and I think we’re better off for it because I don’t care.

Having a quick squiz around tumblr reveals the obvious and rampant shipping of Nadine and Chloe and I couldn’t be happier. I think Naughty Dog knew what they were doing. There were so many moments. Those moments were for us. I think they were subtle enough that the fragile manbabies would have missed them but there’s no fooling us. Some of the babyboiz would have been seething thru their mouthbreething hairmouths and I’m sure probably took to the internet but that’s OK, they can remain unfucked incels for the rest of their lives or worse, serviced by whatever unwashed creatures want to dare fondle them in the dark. The elephant ride and that whole conversation was almost enough for me to forgive the absolute disaster that was Uncharted 4. It was given enough time to breathe, it was absolutely beautiful, and just when you thought they were going to terminate it and apologise for making things too awks, it concludes just perfectly and you get a phone picture that doesn’t have Nadine in frame, yet her presence in that picture is definite, pervasive and emotional. Again, some people may have completely missed it and maybe it chalks up to life experience, but as completely contrived as an artefact of complete fiction as that whole sequence might be, it was one of the most wonderfully tender moments ever created in a video game and I wonder if it makes the whole affair worth it.

In the Uncharted 4 piece, I threw in a few barbs about the most meaningful interactions, and in Lost Legacy, what I really loved was Chloe taking photos of things she thinks are beautiful and interesting on her phone, and feeding the elephant - these were the most meaningful interactions in the game. I love that the photos on the phone didn’t serve any gameplay utility at all, they were there because her character wanted to document her travels, because she thought what she was seeing was cool, and any time in the game, you could pull out your phone and look at what you’d seen. It was such a good and important decision to have the very first picture to be the Indian girl in the market, as that rather than the local conflict, does more to ground you and Chloe as a character in the setting. The game never forces you to look at it as a reminder, but you know it’s there.

I did steal these from the internet, sorry - so if they’re yours, let me know and I’ll be happy to take them down - this one in particular, seeing as it’s a photomode capture. I should have taken my own but I don’t do photomode caps on my first play-thru and there’s no-way I’m replaying this ever again.

It took five games for Naughty Dog to finally get some decent character writing, but a part of me still feels they couldn’t have existed without all the dross of the other games. There’s this immense amount of back-story and labour both the developers and the players had to slog thru to get to this point, and I feel as tho we get here and there’s just too little to show for it. I still really enjoyed the story that was told, the sense of character I felt, but a lot of that was contingent on the Uncharted universe in situ. Lost Legacy feels like a combining of all of Naughty Dog’s narrative motifs - the earnest redemption, the moment of tenderness and connection centred around peaceful animals - it’s a greatest hits of Naughty Dog in the best way possible because each narrative beat hits perfectly. I’m glad I played it with two characters who endeared themselves so much to me, that I truly cared about.

I’ve spend a lot of time praising the strengths of writing for at least Lost Legacy, but for each thing I’ve enjoyed about at least these two characters, there have been so many things I’ve been critical of. I feel like in order to get to the tiniest bit of enjoyment, I had to suffer thru so much. Honestly I don’t know if it really was worth it. It’s hard to know given that who I am now and where my tastes are and have developed as a consequence of my experiences, and I definitely would not replay any of those games again - so where does that leave me? I can’t go back and play The Last Of Us and I absolutely won’t play the second game, I just can’t do Naughty Dog games now, I don’t have it in me.

Naughty Dog have spent the better part of two decades developing tech for visual fidelity specifically for the Playstation hardware platforms (PS3 and 4). They’ve also been doing it by overworking their staff, many of which have left out of frustration or necessity. The problem they face is that as industry tools in general improve, there will no gap between games developed by Naughty Dog and any other contemporary studio from a visual perspective. Make no mistake - the Uncharted games are absolutely chock-full of objects, geometry and animation - somehow miraculously so on the Playstation platform in comparison to other games with the exception of other first-party and exclusive games receiving similar support from Sony such as Guerilla Games’ Horizon Zero Dawn and Sucker Punch’s forthcoming Ghost of Tsushima. There are probably other similar examples for the previous generation on PS3.

Yes, there’s a certain style of game Naughty Dog create as far as narrative goes but because it’s becoming more cinematic, that style is judged more and more by cinematic standards and at best it’s barely semi-professional aside from the outstanding voice work. There are few striking visual motifs that set Naughty Dog games apart from a design perspective, and the gameplay and mechanical constructions that once distinguished them at least a little from others are ever diminishing at increasing rates - more-so as their work practices make the level of quality they set out to achieve ever more unsustainable.

Lost Legacy encapsulates a lot of what I feel about video games as a whole at the moment - as an industry and as a culture. It’s a snapshot of a culture that’s achieving wonderful, beautiful things that are in ways huge - immense, yet somehow can feel so small in comparison to some of the challenges it faces. It’s an industry and culture experiencing a period of great upheaval, where after years upon years of malpractice, terrible things somehow still endure. It’s a space where sometimes it feels like a battle to find the tiniest shred of beauty buried in the dirt and ash, and there doesn’t seem to be an end to the frustration that working thru it brings about while grass-roots labourers continue to be burned.

Like many things in life, both at my age and at the level I guess a person gets to at the exposure rate of a thing, I’ve cut back a great deal on my engagement time with video games, so I’m a lot less patient with the functions and mechanisms of a game. There’s a labour element of video games that I feel developers might think is somehow necessary and there’s a component of that which is true, just not quite in the way they think it is, and it takes a unique frame of thinking to break out of traditional design to understand it. Again I’m not saying there’s anything special about how I understand games - there’s nothing at all original in my thoughts - I’ve shoplifted them wholesale from a hundred other people back from when I used to read Gamasutra and even now when I read designers and the people I follow and talk to on Twitter etc. There’s also absolutely nothing wrong with traditions and the people that enjoy them - just because they’re not my thing any more doesn’t mean they’re bad. It just means I’ve moved to something else and I shouldn’t engage with them.

That, I think, is what I’m waiting for. Kentucky Route Zero, Howling Dogs, Dear Esther, Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture, a whole bunch of others - these are the games I feel are pushing past the boundaries of tradition. Then the moments Uncharted takes itself out of its traditions - Nadine and Chloe’s elephant ride, Chloe’s phone pictures, Elena and Nathan’s house tours especially as Cassie - that’s when I think now you’re running! Run with it! Look, I’m still playing The Division - I’m still moving and shooting and enjoying it.

But we can do so much more. Many developers are doing more. We as an audience need to play more All of us together need to do and play more.

(The epilogue is me figuring I talk a lot of shit about AAA games and nary a word about KRZ, Howling Dogs, Dear Esther and the rest and I get it, but oooooo howdy is it really difficult for me to talk pragmatically about games I actually love)

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pictureamoebae · 6 years ago

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How do you get manual dof to work? I've been playing around in the settings but can't seem to get my sim in focus, they just stay blurry

Hi anon,

This is going to be a long post.

Manual DoF can be a little fiddly until you get to grips with the focus settings, but once you do it’s pretty easy.

First, I created a little DoF overview some time ago that goes over some of the basics and I recommend reading that first (just to make sure you’ve got the depth buffer set up correctly and so on), but I’ll go over how to use manual focus in more detail here.

Note: I’m going to assume you’re using the standard DoF.fx shader, which includes matsodof, ADoF (MartyMcFly) etc. Control of focus works altogether differently for Cinematic DoF, and I won’t cover that here, but once you’ve worked out how to use regular DoF it’ll be easy to transfer that knowledge across. If you’re using qUINT’s DoF the basics of manual focusing are the same as I’m about to cover.

Obviously, you’ll need to un-check the boxes for auto-focus and mouse-driven auto-focus, and this will automatically switch it over to manual control.

There are three settings you want to concentrate on:

Manual Focus Depth

Near Blur Curve

Far Blur Curve

These three settings work in tandem. Manual Focus Depth is only ever used when using manual focusing, whereas Near Blur Curve and Far Blur Curve can also be used with auto-focusing, so what you learn here about them can be useful if you ever switch back to auto-focus again.

To use manual focus we need to understand how depth of field focus works. Take a look at this picture:

In this picture, Focal Plane is what we know as Manual Focus Depth; Focal Plane Near Limit is what we know as Near Blur Curve; and Focal Plane Far Limit is what we know as Far Blur Curve. The camera on the left is you, or the game camera; and the mountain on the right is whatever is farthest away in the distance in the game, usually the sky and fake background scenery.

When trying to get something in focus, what you’re doing is trying to work out at which point between you (the camera) and the far distance (the backdrop) that thing you want in focus lies.

In the DoF shader, a numerical range is given from the camera (the closest point) to the background (the farthest point). This range goes from 0.0 to 1.0, with 0.0 being the camera and 1.0 being the farthest point away.

We want to set Manual Focus Depth to the correct point along that 0.0-1.0 range, so our subject (let’s say it’s your sim) is in focus.

You can put your mouse inside the box and drag it from left to right to change this value, or you can double click (in 3.x versions of ReShade) or right-click (in 4.x versions) to manually type in a number.

Manual Focus Depth has a very sensitive scale, and so you may find it easier to control focus by typing a number in rather than just sliding. This way you can also change it in smaller increments, going as far as three decimal places: 0.056 might be just the exact distance you need, whereas 0.05 or 0.06 might be wrong.

I find for a lot of close sim portraits that a value of between 0.01 and 0.04 is usually best, but it will depend on how close you have the camera to the sim (I tend to have it quite close). If you just want a gentle blur in the far distance, with most of the scene in focus, you might find a value of something like 0.2 or 0.3 or even 0.4 is better.

These numbers seem quite small considering we’re talking about focus that can be quite far into the distance, but that’s just a quirk of how the depth is calculated, and you soon get used to which values feel about right.

Let’s experiment: go ahead and set Blur Radius relatively high (about 15 would be strong enough), and slowly move your mouse left and right in the Manual Focus Depth box and look at what happens on the screen.

If you move it slowly enough you should see various things come in and out of focus. This will help you understand what to expect when adjusting Manual Focus Depth. The further to the right you move your mouse, the higher the value, and things farther into the distance will come into focus. The further to the left you move your mouse, the lower the value, and things closer to the camera will come into focus.

Now, set up a scene and position your camera so that there is a sim or a nice plant or something that you want to be in focus quite close to you. Now, move your mouse very, very slowly in the Manual Focus Depth box and see if you can catch the moment when that sim or plant comes into focus. If the sim is close to the camera you should expect the value to be very low (as I said before, maybe 0.01-0.04).

Once you have the focus in more or less the right place you might find you have to adjust it more carefully by clicking in the box and typing in a number (for example, 0.024). This can require some patience until you’re used to doing it, but you quickly get a feel for it.

Now, because we’re using such small increments, once you’ve got the Manual Focus Depth set up perfectly for your current subject, if you move the camera forward or back at all you’ll find your sim is no longer in focus, and you’ll have to adjust the values again to compensate. This is because manual focus, once set, is static: if you tell it to focus on something 0.04 away from the camera, it will focus at whatever is 0.04 away from the camera, regardless of where you move the camera to.

To give a better idea of what I mean by that, stick your arm out in front of you where you’re sitting so your fingertips touch your computer monitor. Imagine the distance between you and the tips of your fingers is 0.04. Now, get up and move somewhere else in your room, and keep your arm extended in front of you until you’re touching something else with your fingertips. Now that new thing you’re touching is 0.04 away from you, not your computer monitor. If you were actually stood in the game and using DoF, whatever is at your fingertips would be in focus, so by moving around your room your computer monitor goes out of focus and whatever you’re now touching goes into focus. This is what happens when you move the camera in the game once you’ve set up your Manual Focus Depth. So if you still wanted your computer monitor to be in focus you’d have to tell ReShade that the Manual Focus Depth is now a different value, a different distance away from you.

So, we’ve got our sim in focus now and we’ve got a better understanding of what Manual Focus Depth is and how it works. That’s most of the work done. And perhaps you’re perfectly happy with how it looks now and don’t need to alter the focus any more. Great! You can change the Blur Radius so the strength of the blur is whatever you want, and go ahead and take your picture.

But perhaps you want to change how the blur works a little more. This is where Near Blur Curve and Far Blur Curve come in.

Looking back to the picture above, you can see that we can get blur in front of our subject and behind our subject. Using Near and Far Blur Curve we can push the blur further away from our subject, so the area of that is in focus is bigger, so more is in focus. Conversely, we can use Near and Far Blur Curve to pull the blur closer in to our subject, so less of an area is in focus. In the picture above, everything that lies inside the two outer lines is in focus, and everything that lies outside the two outer lines starts to become out of focus (with the Focal Plane, or where we set Manual Focus Depth to, being the precise point of absolute focus).

With Near and Far Blur Curve, lower numbers pull the blur closer to the focal plane (our subject, or Manual Focus Depth), and higher numbers push the blur further away.

For the most part, I set Near Blur Curve as high as it will go, because I don’t generally want any blur between the camera and my subject except in very specific circumstances (in which case I usually use Cinematic DoF for it because it handles it better). So, if you’re the same as me, go ahead and set Near Blur Curve to 1000.00 and forget about it.

If you’re taking a lot of portraits and want the whole background blurred, you can probably leave Far Blur Curve at its default. If you find things start getting blurry too fast after your in-focus subject (your sim, your nice plant, your beautifully-arranged pile of books, or whatever) you can increase the Far Blur Curve value and push that blur back a bit until it looks as you want.

Near and Far Blur Curve values aren’t as sensitive as for Manual Focus Depth, so you should be fine just using your mouse to slide from left to right.

As I said earlier (84 years ago; I’m sorry this is a long post), Near and Far Blur Curve can also be used with auto-focus to control the fall-off of the blur in the same way. Getting to grips with Manual Focus Depth is really the important one when using manual focus. Yes, it is frustrating at first, and doesn’t seem to make sense, but take your time and it’ll suddenly click in your brain and from that point onwards it’ll take you no time at all to set up focus how you want. This post is only as long as it is because a) I insist on explaining all the whats and whys as well as the hows, and b) I’m too verbose. It’s actually a quick process once you understand it.

There are some quirks as to how focus works. For example, Near Blur Curve is a bit buggy in the DoF.fx shader with ADoF (Marty McFly DoF), but it works as it should in the qUINT DoF shader. But as you get used to using manual focus you’ll learn what those little quirks are and develop your own strategies and workarounds.

One day I’ll get around to making a far more user-friendly tutorial for this, but today is not that day because I’m wordy rather than visual. Still, read slowly, take the steps slowly, and it should make sense.

#dof faq #dof tutorial #reshade tutorial #reshade faq #reshade help #reshade troubleshooting #reshade tips #reshade

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claudes-therapy-center · 5 years ago

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*runs and slides in* Sweet and doting characters you say?? 👀 Kaze may not be super doting but he is a giant sweetheart and imaginehimdevotinghimselftobecomingClaude'sretainerwhenhelearnsClaudedoesnthaveone

This one got long and #angsty so strap in

Kaze stretched his arms as he stirred awake in his seat. He had taken a position next to Claude’s hospital bed, watching over him, and attending to his medical needs. He had sustained a grievous injury in his right shoulder during the previous months mission. His house had been tasked with driving a group of thieves out of the countryside, and Kaze had agreed to join them. He watched the incident as it occurred. A thief had ambushed him from the air, and before he could draw his bow, a dagger was imbedded into his shoulder. If Kaze wasn’t there to throw a couple of well placed shuriken, Claude would have met his end. That’s what troubled him the most.

No one came to his aid at his most dire moment, and he found that to be unacceptable. The man was a noble after all, and in his country, the nobles have retainers that lurk in the dark, and strike down any danger that comes near their lord. The fact that someone got close to Claude was appaling on its own, let alone that he suffered a potentially fatal injury that should have been prevented. As he was running, carrying the passed out lord off the battlefield, he wondered where his backup was. Why they weren’t watching over their master and protecting him like they should. He naturally assumed that Hilda was his retainer, as the two spend the most time together. He confronted her after she returned from battle, only to find out that she wasn’t responsible for him at all. She was just a close friend, and a noble herself. She also revealed that he didn’t have a bodyguard at all, which he found shocking, considering the other house leaders had someone to look after them. Which made him beg the question, ‘why on earth didn’t Claude?’ His concern for the young lord only deepened as he looked after his wound. The shirt he was wearing had to be discarded, as it was completely ruined, covered in blood. So Kaze was able to see the multitude of scars that covered his chest and arms. He had a few that looked like grazes. Short little cuts that healed quickly, but deep enough to leave their mark. Others were long and jagged, varying in color from dark brown to almost pure white. The most notable one ran from his left shoulder, across his collar bone, barely missing the jugular, and continued onward until it reached the other side of his ribcage. It was about one quarter of an inch in diameter, and off-white in color. Kaze could tell that the injury was fairly old, which worried him. Claude had turned eighteen just a few months ago, so what had he done as a child to get such a mark? In his mind, this many scars on someone who had only seen battle just a few times, was incredibly horrifying. Which caused him to wonder what went on during his childhood.

So, he waited by his bedside, hopefully to get his answers when Claude finally woke up. Manuela had offered to take shifts with him, an offer that he kindly refused. He felt very personally about the situation, and wanted to see it through to the end. He wanted to get his answers and put his fears about the lord to rest.

And as he shifted in his seat and rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, he could feel a warm pressure on his knee. Claude was finally awake, and even though he had been asleep for three days, looked exhausted and dazed.

“Where am I? What happened with the thieves?” He asked. His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse, and he coughed violently upon finishing his sentence. Kaze wasted no time and poured him a cup of water, from a pitcher that Manuela had kindly been refilling for him. He took it in his hands and nearly dropped it. Kaze quickly reached out and supported the cup, slowly easing it towards his mouth.

“Your class took care of them. You received that injury mid battle, and I carried you off the field. Do you remember anything?” Kaze took the glass when Claude finished drinking, and set it on the side table.

“I think I remember someone coming at me with a knife, then I felt this sharp pain in my shoulder. I don’t recall much after that, it’s mostly just a blur. I know you were there, but I never saw you. Just your shuriken flying out of nowhere,” he yawned and pushed his hair back, which had become unruly due to not being brushed for three days, “Thanks for saving my neck by the way. I really owe it to you now,” he finished with a weak smile.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting to talk to you about,” Kaze brought his chair closer and linked his hand under his chin to rest his head, “Why don’t you have a retainer?”

Claude averted his gaze, his expression falling into an uncharacteristic frown, “It’s… difficult to keep trustworthy people around.”

“What do you mean?” Kaze’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward, the uncomfortable pit in his stomach growing with each passing second. He could sense that something was about to be said that he wouldn’t like.

He chuckled softly, his mouth twisting into a pained smile, “I mean not a lot of people want to be around me. Especially due to my ‘reputation’. I’ve heard many things said about me, most just stemming from misunderstanding. But, every now and then… people get intentionally malicious,” he looked back at the older man with an almost unreadable expression. He wasn’t at his best right now, so he wasn’t able to successfully keep up his carefree facade. What little emotion that was able to seep through the cracks, Kaze took notice. He could tell Claude was hurting, and it made his blood boil.

“Claude, what’s going on? What have you been dealing with?” upon asking, the young lord looked away again, and Kaze chased his gaze refusing to break eye contact, “You don’t have to suffer through this alone. You’ll find no judgement from me, I swear it,” he rested a hand on his unaffected shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “Please, tell me so I can understand. Let me help you.”

It took him almost a full minute of silence to give in, accepting the fact that his caretaker wasn’t going to go without an answer. He took a deep, shaky breath and started talking in a hushed whisper. Almost as if he was afraid that someone else was listening, “Ever since I’ve been proclaimed as the heir of house Riegan, some of the nobles have stopped at nothing to slander my name. I didn’t care about what they were saying for awhile. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. They called me a trickster, a washed up nobody, things of that nature. But lately…” his voice got caught in his throat, and he put a hand against his chest in an attempt to calm down, “They have started attacking my character. I thought it was only miscommunication at first. Someone misheard what was said and exaggerated it. Until, I had someone actually approach me and ask if I lie to everyone I talk to,” he laughed quietly, but his eyes started getting watery, “Of course that isn’t true, i’m just a private person. But they were so convinced that they wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say. It has only gotten worse. I have been called everything from a cheat to a conniving bastard. I even heard that the only thing I'm good at is manipulating people into doing my bidding, like some sort of twisted demon,” he brought his hands to his face, crying softly into them. His whole body shook as weeks worth of stress started to pour out of him.

Kaze couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’s had time to become acquainted with Claude for almost a year now, and he knew none of what was said was true. He had come to the monastery without any prior knowledge of the lords, and found himself liking the Golden Deer leader the most. Their first conversation had left him with a lot of good impressions. He treated everyone with respect, regardless of where they came from. That much he gained just from the way he approached him. Not a hint of suspicion in his eyes, only curiosity. He was very charismatic in nature, playful even, telling a few jokes within fifteen minutes of their first meeting. He was also clever. By the Gods he was so incredibly clever. A heated discussion of battle tactics proved that much, and it was further solidified by an equally spirited battle of wits, which Kaze lost. Above all, Claude was also kind. In the time that he’s known him, Kaze never heard anything hurtful come out of his mouth. Even if he liked to tease sometimes.

The strength of his character was also proven on the battlefield. The had to route some bandits the first month they were at the monastery, and the young lord had come to his aid during battle. He had defended him from the blade of an axe. One well placed arrow was all it took to stop the bandit from slicing through his back. Kaze wasn’t even from the alliance, and didn’t consider himself worth defending, but he still received aid from the young man, who was a noble no less. That was something he would never forget.

So to hear that people were attacking someone, who has only shown him respect and friendliness, made his teeth itch, “and these rumors are keeping you from hiring a retainer?” he questioned, trying to hide the rage in his voice.

“Oh, it goes much further than that,” Claude managed to say through choked gasps, “I have never had a retainer. Haven’t even considered the possibility. I grew up hated, even had to fight off assassins, and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with hate here but-”

“I’m sorry, you had to fight off what?” Kaze interrupted a little too harshly. Claude’s eyes suddenly went wide, realizing what he just said.

“I didn’t mean to say that. Please, just ignore it-”

“I can’t!” Kaze yelled, causing the younger man to jump. He breathed in deep, in an attempt to calm himself, “I can’t just ignore it. I have been watching over you for three days now. You think I wouldn’t notice your scars? Especially this one?” he pointed at the white streak spanning his shoulder and ribcage, “I was going to ask you regardless of your comfort level. I hoped that you got them from animals, a carriage accident, or literally anything else. But you were attacked by assassins on multiple occasions, and no one offered to help you, a child at the time?” He could feel the sharpness of his voice as he talked, and he tried to keep it in, but the prospect of a defenseless child having to outmaneuver assassins instead of living out his childhood enraged him. The despondent look on Claude’s face just further fueled his fire.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can you just forget everything I said, and maybe we can go on with our lives with some normalcy?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be forgetting anytime soon. That’s why I have made my decision,” He took Claude’s hands in his own and slid off his chair, dropping to his knees, “Please, let me be your retainer. I’m willing to make the arrangement to switch houses, even be scorned by my countrymen, but I can’t see you like this for much longer. I want to defend you, even if it costs me my life."

"Why?"the word was uttered so softly, he would have missed it had he not trained his ears to pick up the sound of a pin dropping. He looked up at the younger man, whose eyes had started to swell with tears again. He resisted the urge to reach up and wipe them away. Instead, he resigned to listening to what he had to say, "Why do you want to help me so much? How do I know you're not just asking because it's what you were trained to do? Do you even know what you're saying? Do you really think I would let anyone die for me?" The words shook Kaze to his core. He didn't realize how the words would impact him, but they were the truth. He would do anything for his friend. Claude pressed their hands to his forehead and wept, "If you are really doing this because you care, not just because of some noble obligation, then you have to promise me something."

"Anything you want, just say the word."

"You have to live."

He sat there shocked for a moment. His line of work called for the possibility of his death, and yet he had to promise to live. It was absurd, impossible even, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He nodded once, and tightened his grip on his hands “I will live for you. From now until the end of your days, I will always have your back.”

“No exceptions? You will run if I tell you to? Leave me behind if I ask?”

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his lord behind in the midst of battle, but seeing him relax just a little and stop crying, was enough to resign himself to it, “I will,” he responded.

“Alright,” he dropped his hands and settled back against his pillow, breathing deep sighs of relief. Kaze got back in his chair, and reached for the bandages on the table.

“It’s about time I changed your wraps. I have been keeping a close eye on your injury, and want to keep it from getting infected, will you allow me to change them?”

“I’m not going to stop you. Just be gentle, alright?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Claude laughed when Kaze addressed him as ‘his lord’, “Already starting with the formalities are we? And you haven’t switched houses yet.”

He smiled and started unwrapping the bloody bandages, “It’s best to start as soon as possible to get used to it,” he tossed the soiled linen into the trash bin, and grabbed rubbing alcohol and a rag, “I hope you don’t mind.”

Claude hissed as the rag was applied to the stab wound, leftover tears trailed down his cheeks upon impact, “I don’t mind at all, as long as you understand that it doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. I’m still going to tease you sometimes, and I hope that you’re still willing to spar with me.”

Kaze wiped his thumb under Claude’s eye, wiping away the last of the tears, before wrapping new bandages on his arm, “We can spar all you want as soon as you’re healed. As for your teasing, I am used to it by now. I’ll think something’s wrong if you suddenly stop,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” his lord responded mid yawn. He lazily shut his eyes and pressed deeper into his pillow, “Thanks again...for everything…”

He watched Claude fall asleep looking fully peaceful, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, “It is no problem, my lord,” he said to himself. He brought a hand to his chest, lost in the sudden realization that he finally had someone to look after. It wasn’t too long ago that he had given up on the search for someone to serve, but now he had someone worth looking after. Someone who had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. He took a deep breath, and grinned, “My lord…” he repeated. He took one last look at Claude, before slinking back into his chair, and falling asleep as well.

-Mod Bambi 🦌

(I’m so sorry it’s so long but I started getting into the groove after the first paragraph and I couldn’t stop lmao. hope ya’ll enjoy.)

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acrobaticcatfeline · 5 years ago

Text

The Fear of the Dragonwitch (Triplets RoLoRem AU) Chapter 3!!!

Word Count: 2329

TW: This is chock full of them! Remus, violence, blood, broken bones, bullying, homophobia, transphobia, swearing I think that’s it, LMK if I missed anything!

Notes: OK!!! Third chapter is... rough. It sorta comes out of nowhere, but all will be explained in time. There’s a little more closure from last chapter before everything takes off to the violent bit. I really wanted to play with Logan, I’ve been trying to keep him close to his canon self, but that means hes really really apathetic most of the time, and doesn’t want to confront his emotions. I played with how it manifests in this chapter. I also wanted to introduce Logan as another main character, because all of the triplets are, and they have their own arcs to complete. I see the Dragonwitch as nightmares and fears in general, so now from the title you might get where end game might be. They all have to face their biggest fears and grow from them, and that’s really rough in particular for Logan, who isn’t afraid of some trivial everyday fear like being alone or stage-fright. anyways I’ve gone on too long, last chapter is here, first is here. I hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Logicality, Joan X Talyn, OC X OC (vivian X mimi)

Summary: “The next day at school was interesting to say the least.” Roman goes to school after his whole crisis and rocks it! Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Logan. The boy is walking hand in hand with Patton when a bully walks up and decides to go much further than throwing simple insults. Logan is only so much of a distraction to them, who have targeted Patton in particular. In essence, people are assholes and it can end up with you in a whole lot of pain.

The next day at school was interesting to say the least. Roman had gotten thrown headfirst into rehearsals. Valerie and Terrance ran lines with him the whole time before school, after he had sufficiently made sure Joan was ok without him. He hadn’t even really quite remembered what he was performing as. It was a shock to be reminded that the musical was kinky boots, and that him being the lead meant he was Charlie price. Heck, he was playing the same character that the absolutely legendary Brendon Urie did, and that was a revelation. They were singing songs and Terrance had begun singing sex is in the heel, and roman could immediately see how perfect his casting was. He giggled at one part in particular.

I'm black Jesus, I'm black Mary, but this Mary’s legs are hairy!!!

They continued and he danced like a dork with the other two as he sung step one, twirling Valerie around dramatically with a wide grin. He couldn’t stop laughing when Valerie sung a history of wrong guys, her silly accent she was exaggerating was absolutely killing him. They ran through the script once before the bell rung and they had to split.

By the time it’s his lunch period he's gone through the script another 3 times and he thinks he pretty much has the lines down, to the shock and awe of the others.

Just put One foot Onward and forward I used to be a zero but now I clearly feel that I may be the hero who reinvents the heel I may be facing the impossible I may be chasing after miracles And there may be the steepest mountain to overcome But this is step one!

At that, Valerie had stopped him. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Terrance, how have we only just been let in on this magical voice and impossible memory of our boy?”

“I mean he is pretty shy most of the time”

“… guys I've been the one to train understudies for the past year because of my memory for scripts.”

“what???!!!”

“I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t know that, I don’t think you two have ever been understudies.”

“TOMMY WHEN DID YOU PLAN ON LETTING US IN ON THIS???”

“if you had asked, I would have told you.”

“gosh, you already have your lines memorized, could you help us?”

“uh, yeah sure? I mean if Joan needs help, I’ll have to bail, but sure.”

“don’t worry about me Ro, its mostly finished, I just gotta fuss with the rollers so they roll straight and quietly.”

“ok then! Then let’s get to it!”

Logan on the other hand was having a less than optimal day.

He flinched as his head hit the lockers and the hand holding his shirt lifted him off the ground. His own arms clung to the other, legs kicking futilely.

“what's wrong fag? Having trouble? Good, you disgust me. You and your fucking tranny boyfriend.”

Logan was dropped, and he fell to his knees, his head bobbing forward. He stumbled back to his feet; a determination set in his jaw. Patton had a bruise forming on their cheek, a black eye and more matching marks on their arms. Patton said nothing, silent tears flowing as their head fell forward. Logan turned his attention back to the bullies, he knew Virgil had ran to get a teacher, and he knew how slow some would be, hoping that they would get back before he and Patton were both blacked out from the assault. He balled his fists, wincing slightly as he felt a large pain shoot through him at the action. He ignored it and swung.

Roman flinched as the theatre doors slammed open louder than normal. He flinched again at the yell that came from it. He turned to see Virgil and only heard Logan and hurt, and he was standing. Thomas had turned and was rushing to the doors just the same as he was. Joan, Talyn, Terrance, and Valerie followed behind them. Roman silently hoped that they would be fast enough, he had no idea what was happening, but he knew it was bad.

Logan wanted to scream. He was an idiot! He swung and his hand, his right hand thankfully, was grabbed, and he felt the bones in his wrist crack. He merely winced again, continuing to fight back, refusing to leave Patton there defenseless. He didn’t hear the door to the hall open, didn’t see the bully and his group turn and try to leave, he saw red. He didn’t see Remus roundhouse kick the main guy and apprehending him as Mr. Sanders came through the other side of the hall. He just couldn’t see anymore. He DID feel himself collapse, however, and the screaming of his wrist. He knew he had apologized, didn’t feel it escape his mouth, or hear it ring through his head, but he knew he said it as he passed out.

Next thing Logan knew, his vision was blurred and white. He had panicked, where was he? Where was Patton? Did his teachers know what had happened? Would he be marked as ditching? He was seen by several people that morning, what would they think? He tried to push himself up to get his bearings and when his wrist protested, he let out a quiet whimper. He continued to sit up, supporting himself on the other hand, quickly snatching his glasses off the counter and slipping them on.

He was in a bed in the nurses office. He looked for Patton and frowned when he didn’t see them. He swung his legs off the bed and went to stand but crumpled to the floor with a yelp. He steadied himself against the wall and assessed his legs. They were thoroughly bruised; he could tell from the constant throbbing pain. He also saw there must’ve been spots that he had broken skin, big blood stains scattered on his jeans indicated as such. He leaned on his good hand, pressed against the wall and stumbled painfully to the bathroom he knew was just down the hall. Once he had gotten there, he grimaced at his reflection. It was covered in dirt from the school’s floors and his blood mixed with it. The nurse must not have gotten to him yet, which meant he must have only been out for a bit, that was good. he carefully rinsed his face, then his arms with a fraction more pain and struggle. He then stumbled back over to his bed, leaning heavily against it as he grabbed his phone and shot a text to his mom and roman, basically a formal apology at the trouble he had gotten into, not to worry about him, that his writing hand was unharmed and that he was fine to continue the school day. He didn’t look back at it to see their crazed replies telling him to absolutely not continue with the school day. Instead he wandered to find Patton.

He saw the nurse turn and leave and then stumbled over to Patton who looked about ready to yell out his name when Logan raised a finger to his lips. He hated the tears that stung their cheeks. He placed himself on the bed and carefully wrapped them in a hug. He also noted, that he hated how Patton's shoulders shook while they cried.

“Lo… Lo why are you up and moving? The nurse said that your wrist is broken, and you have a bunch of bruises and scars, Logi why did you do all that?”

“Pat, what did you think I would do? I wasn’t about to leave you to get attacked, you could have died”

“so could you!”

And Patton's eyes flooded again. Cries about how stupid he was for protecting them and just cries of fear in general fell from their lips. Logan stayed silent and held them, letting them vent. When they couldn’t cry anymore, he placed a kiss on their forehead.

“its ok Pat. We’ll be ok. I'm gonna head to class though, I don’t want my teachers thinking I'm ditching.”

At this, Patton clings to his arm with an annoyed look.

“Logan, Mr. Sanders got us here, our teachers know we’re here. You are hurt, you are absolutely not going to class, or I'm getting up myself to stop you.”

At that Logan’s will crumbled. Patton looked miserable, there was no way he would let Patton get up and stop him. He was right, he was in a lot of pain, his legs and wrist kept screaming about it. His partner had a hardened gaze and he knew there was no way he was going to be going through with his plan. On top of that, the nurse, frazzled and confused had just found him and he got reprimanded for leaving his bed. He had been granted his request to be over next to Patton, if not for anything but it hurt too much to walk back. The nurse brought his things over and had just began setting his wrist when Roman, Remus, and Mimi had burst in. Remus was over immediately, his movement sporadic, but he didn’t speak. He sat on the edge of the bed staring at Logan’s broken wrist being fixed. He faintly heard the nurse explain to Mimi that what she was doing was only temporary, and that he would have to get it set at a proper doctor’s office. Roman walked over and Logan could see the words forming in his head getting held back. He merely smiled, and Roman started crying.

Mimi walked over soon after, her eyes brimming with tears as she gently held his hand that wasn’t broken. He frowned slightly.

“why are you crying?”

“because you got hurt you idiot!”

Logan was shocked to hear Remus say it. He looked at him and was shocked again to see tear stains on his cheeks.

“… it happens Re, its not that bad, pr-”

“don’t lie. I hate it when you lie to make us feel better. You always do it. It is bad, I was there, he broke your wrist, he kicked the shit out of your legs, I'm surprised they aren’t broken as well. This isn't fine this is bullshit. The kids aren’t even getting expelled, they have a week suspension and its so dumb! They assaulted you and Patton, why aren’t they in jail? They could’ve killed you and they're still staying here that’s unsafe and it’s bullshit!!!”

Logan couldn’t help the swell of anger at hearing his assailant’s punishment. Remus was right, it’s not fair. The world isn't fair, he knows this, but he had hoped that at least the school would do what's right. In the corner of his vision he saw Patton's eyes filling with tears again.

“Remus calm down. Me and your mom have already reported it to the police and pressed charges. We’ve also already called the school board to reverse your suspension.”

Logan’s eyes widened and he gaped at Mimi and Remus both.

“wait, you got suspended?”

“yeah. Apparently, roundhouse kicking someone who was trying to murder your brother falls under the same category as trying to kill someone to the school.”

Logan was furious. Remus had been working so hard to keep his record clean, he had punched a few kids when he was a kid, broken a few noses, but he had been getting better, he had been handling his anger responsibly and hadn’t had an incident in years, to have this ruin his record had Logan fuming.

“I… I heard from the nurse that we almost got suspended too. Um, apparently someone on the board had said we did damage as well, and that there was no proof that it wasn’t just a normal fight. They grabbed security footage and they were out-voted, I guess. I think they were the kid’s parent. That’s probably why.”

Logan hissed at Patton explanation.

“what? They- those fuckers broke my wrist, I barely got a hit in there, what the hell?”

“we are going to deal with this Logan. Your mom already has a line of people who are willing to take this to court for us.”

Logan felt both a little more at ease, and much more filled with anxiety. He really didn’t want to have to take his school to court.

“it’s- it doesn’t matter that much, like I said I'm fine, its Patton that I'm worried about. He was the one they targeted.”

“Logan, they broke your fucking wrist.”

He flinched at that. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that. He said it himself. But Patton saying it, Patton didn’t curse. They never cursed. And they seemed so angry. It scared Logan, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was. He was really scared. People attacked them for their gender and sexualities. And they got away with it. Logan’s legs were in complete and utter pain, his wrist was broken, and he was almost suspended for it all. His significant other wasn’t always with him, what would he do if he wasn’t there? He couldn’t imagine it, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to confront this, he just wanted to go to class, at least go home and sleep, be somewhere safe.

He was scared of his mortality, and knowing he was in danger in one of the few places he's ever felt safe was sending him into a panic attack. Mimi had left work to come and see him, maybe he could go home. But- but then Patton would be here alone. His head was swimming when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Logan. Breathe. You're coming home, and when Viv gets home we’re taking you to get a real cast. The nurse just said Patton's parents are here to pick him up. He’ll be ok Hun. And so will you.”

Logan breathed in… and out. He would be ok.

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nyaacatboy · 6 years ago

Text

Fate’s Door, Chapter 14: Deadline

Masterpost/Chapter 13/Chapter 15

It was the eve of the solstice, and at a long last the insanity of the previous-Roman couldn’t believe it had been three weeks. The time felt much longer and much shorter at the same time. But now was not the time to reminisce, the curse was now or never.

Roman assumed the role of leader/drill Sargent/commander. Wrapping their mother’s scarf around their neck under the cloak, they began. “Okay, the time when the castle is the most vulnerable is when the royals are eating dinner. Lots of guards move close to the kitchens, to defend the king’s food from poisoning, and most of the servants have dinner then too,” Roman said. They were all huddled in the closed bookstore to run through strategy, dressed in dark hooded cloaks so no one would see their faces. Patton had joked that they looked like a herd of Virgils when they had all first put them on. Sloane and Corbin were busy getting anything they thought would help the group on their journey.

Fingergunning at Virgil, Roman said,“There will be two guards at the gate. We need some sort of diversion to get them away from there, since two bodies on the ground or two people frozen in place raises suspicion.”

“I can rustle leaves or something,” Virgil said, looking at the floor.

“I have a passcode for servants that will get us through the door. From then onwards, everyone needs to follow Logan and I. While we’re making our way to the dungeons, Patton and Virgil, keep a close eye on anyone we come across, but not too close. Virgil needs to use her freeze spell on anyone who notices us. We all need to act like we know what we’re doing, and like we’re meant to be there. Got that?” Roman would have the hardest time fitting in of them all, but at least if they got captured it wouldn’t mean too much legal trouble.

They all nodded. “If I know anyone, can I ask them to keep quiet instead?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, but if they’re untrustworthy, Virgil may need to use something more aggressive than a freeze spell. She can scramble their memory of the past minutes if needed, but she can’t quite finesse it yet. That could get nasty.” Roman unfolded a paper and laid it out so everyone could see it.

“Got it.” Patton gulped. As nice of a friend and person Roman usually was, they could also be intimidating.

Roman pointed at the paper. “This is a map of the dungeons. The first level has a lot of security, but there is a back way here. We just need to be really quiet. Don’t sneeze, burp, curse, fall, talk, or anything else that could make a sound. The lower levels have fewer guards, but I can make my way through them. They know me, and they’ll side with me. If I screw up, Virgil should scramble their memories. That should not happen, but we need to be prepared for all possibilities. At the very bottom of the dungeons is the cell where the Dragon-Witch is. There shouldn’t be any guards at her cell. Patton and Logan, your job is to defend Virgil with me as she performs her spell. No matter what, it’s likely that someone will see us, and we still don’t know if Virgil will actually perform the spell.”

“If things go south, we need to get out of the dungeons and go to the throne room. Then, we take out the king and I take his place. Questions?” Roman abruptly folded the paper, stowing it away in their bag.

Everyone shook their heads, and so they made their way out of the bookstore.

“Alright, goodbye!” Sloane said. “Roman, I’m only paying bail money for Logan, Patton, and Virgil. Protect them.”

Roman nodded, looking considerably more afraid. The four got up and made their way towards the door, only to be stopped by Sloane and Corbin giving them goodbye hugs. Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t blame his parents for wanting to hug him one last time. He was amazed they were even letting him go on what could potentially be a death mission. Usually, they were about twelve times more protective.

Silence hung over the group as they made their way through the city. Some people were inside their homes, eating dinner, but others were still out and about. They stuck mostly to back alleys, since there was no way they wouldn’t turn a few heads. Four teenagers really tense, walking with purpose, and not talking to each other would raise anyone’s suspicions. The city grew darker as the four approached the castle gates.

Virgil focused on the bushes and vines that crept into the walls around the palace. They began to shake, and a few twigs snapped. The guards didn’t notice, so Virgil continued her efforts. Realizing it wasn’t working, she pushed a brick out of the wall, making parts of the wall crumble. It was loud enough to get their attention, and both rushed over. Moving as fast as they could without drawing attention, the four slipped past the gates and approached the castle.

For the privacy of the nobility, trees are planted all around the castle just tightly enough that the lower levels of the castle are obscured from view, but wide enough that you could comfortably spread a picnic blanket between trees. There are less trees close to the gate, and they become denser as one approaches the castle. Roman was grateful for this, since there was no way there wouldn’t be any changes of plan between the bookstore and the castle doors, and everyone needed to be on the same page.

When the group was out of the guards’ range, everyone relaxed. Their paces slowed from frantic to casual. “We can talk now,” Roman said.

“I don’t know if I can pull off the spell,” Virgil said, “It was hard for me to move the brick under pressure, I can’t imagine doing a level 28 spell when the fate of the whole country rests on my shoulders.” Her face was slightly pink, and her hands were shaking.

“You can do it,” Patton said, “I believe in you. Plus, we’ll all be protecting you while you do the spell. You’ve progressed so quickly in such a short span of time, it won’t be stretching your abilities much more than you’re already used to.”

Logan looked up ahead. “Stop talking. There’s a guard right there, at the door.” Virgil swallowed her response to Patton, letting her thoughts stew.

The guard in question looked very confused at the four approaching him. When they were about five feet from the guard, Roman stepped forward. “Ducks are commonly seen at midnight, flying into chimneys.”

“That’s last week’s. Sorry, can’t let you in. Security’s been tightened, something about top security prisoners and the solstice.” The group did not move. “Go on, shoo.”

With a glance at the other three, Roman took off their hood, leaving their face visible to the guard. They sighed, then said, “As your crown prince I command that you let us through,” fast enough that no one was quite sure what they’d said.

“Hmm? I didn’t catch that,” the guard said.

Looking like they’d rather be anywhere else, Roman said, “As your crown prince, I command that you let us into the castle.”

The guard recognized them.“Oh! Yes, of course, my prince. Step right through. I’m sorry I held you up, I had no idea that it was the prince that was coming, and…” The guard rattled off excuses, while Roman led the group through the door, not even giving him a second glance.

“Thank you!” Patton said.

“I wish I didn’t have to do that,” Roman said, walking faster, “If he’s a guard who just wants to go home, he won’t tell anyone. But there’s a high chance, with me missing, that he’ll tell any member of the palace staff that stops by that the prince came through. Virgil, forget freezing spells. We need to move.”

Roman led the group at a pace that was almost running, not caring to speak to anyone as they pounded through the castle hallways. Logan gave Patton and Virgil instructions on where to turn, and they managed to keep pace with the prince. Rare electric lights passed in a blur as the labyrinth of stairs and hallways led them deep into the castle.

Legs aching, they stood before the entrance to the dungeon. The metal door had a large chain and padlock holding it closed. No guards were stationed anywhere near it. Virgil raised up a hand to break the chain, but hesitated.

“C’mon Virgil, this trick’s an old hat for you by now,” Logan said. “You broke the spines of every gross romance novel people donated at the book drive. You can do this.”

Virgil laughed a little at the memory, then pointed both her hands at the door. A link of the chain broke, and she moved the fallen chain and lock away like they were made of helium. She started to open the doors, but felt Roman’s hand on her wrist.

“Let’s not make a huge entrance, ok? We are fugitives,” they said.

Patton opened the doors, and they all walked in, feeling more confident in themselves. The difficult part for most of them was done, and Virgil’s faith in her sorcery abilities was renewed.

The confidence melted away when they took in how many guards were stationed at the entranceway to the first level of the dungeons.

Roman eyed the entrance to the shortcut. The entranceway had been made for people waiting to see prisoners. A secret stairwell was installed for prisoners to take when they had visitors, since no one wanted inmates having contact with each other at all. Many a breakout had been planned by inmates in different floors passing notes when one was taken up to see a visitor, so the castle had decided it was easier to install a secret staircase than get tighter bars for the cells.

Four guards stood between them and the lamp that concealed the secret lever. One switch, and the young adventurers would be in the stairwell before anyone could blink. Unfortunately, eight eyes were already fixed on Roman.

The guard nearest to Roman drew his gun. “We’re under direct orders from the king to apprehend you using any forces necessary and take you to your quarters. Come quietly and it will all be over.” Roman didn’t know this guard, and he’d been pretty clear that they were not friends. So much for talking their way out of this.

“Never. I’ve got better things to do.” They scanned the room for a potential path to the lamp, then noticed where the other three guard’s guns were pointed. Directly at his friends.

Come to think of it, these weren’t guards. They were soldiers. King’s Men. Roman turned to Virgil, who was right at their side. Her hands were poised to cast a spell at the slightest provocation. “Can you cast a shield that only I can get out of?”they asked in an undertone, “The soldiers can’t touch me in case they harm me, no matter what they say. If you all are safe behind the shield, I can go to the secret passage and open it for you. Then, make your way over keeping the shield between you and them. Got it?”

Nervous but determined, Virgil nodded. She focused, and with effort, a glistening wall began to form between her, Logan, and Patton.

“Come, prince. Rejoin the elite, where you belong.”

Roman’s blood boiled, but a lump also rose in their throat. They knew what that elite planned to do in the name of their country, and they didn’t want to be a bystander any longer. Hopefully, they wouldn’t become the instigator. Virgil’s shield solidified, becoming opaque. Roman ran.

The lamp, when only pulled halfway, would only open halfway. The prince gave it a jerk, and the nearly invisible section of floor rotated, taking them with it. Roman hit the wall, then walked over to the half-open entrance.

They let loose an expletive that was incredibly inappropriate for a prince-well, anybody to say. The soldiers in the entranceway and those crowded in the secret passage glared. Roman resisted the urge to curse again.

Patton, Logan, and Virgil all looked terrified. Looking from them to the soldiers, Roman knew what they had to do.

“I surrender.” They kneeled on the floor before the soldiers attacking their friends, arms raised for handcuffs. A pang shot through Roman’s heart as the cold metal clasped their wrists. Their friends looked confused, curious, and worried, but above all, afraid. This was the part of tonight that wasn’t in anyone’s plans but Roman’s.

“May I be permitted one request?”the prince asked. They weren’t very experienced in groveling, but there’s a first time for everything. Though when Roman had thought about their “first time,” this was not what they had in mind. A soldier nodded.

“I need to speak with my father, privately. And I need my friends kept safe in the meantime, preferably in my quarters.” Roman bowed their head, trying to show respect.

Virgil looked at them, her eyes practically screaming, What are you doing? Why do we need to be kept safe while you talk with the King?

Trust me, Roman tried to say with a glance, but they didn’t have very much conviction. Virgil’s shield lowered.

“We can arrange that. I’ll take you to the king, and your”-the guard glared at the three friends-“acquaintances can come with you.” With a few curt words to the four soldiers closest to him, Virgil, Logan, and Patton were taken to the prince’s rooms. Two soldiers flanked Roman, taking them towards the throne room.

Heart breaking in two, Roman watched their friends being taken away. Each of them had a soldier that was more or less physically forcing them towards Roman’s rooms. It hurt to see their friends more or less hauled along by guards. That was Roman’s fault, and they couldn’t help but feel guilty. They could only hope that their friends stayed comfortable while Roman did...this.

While Roman knew that the soldiers couldn’t touch them without their permission, they were still jittery. Sure, there was a chance they would convince the king to step down from the throne, and carefully word everything so that they had what was basically full control of the country, but there would be big sacrifices to make, as the king was who he was. The presence of two public displays of the king’s power did not calm their nerves at all.

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