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thewingedbaron · 2 months ago

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Tag game! Open tag from @arendaes!

Tag game: Give your KC's first impression and final opinion of each of their companions.

Since Vysk's playthrough is still going, I'll throw this back to Allix, my first KC. TLDR: He's a Freebooter Ranger turned Angel that struggles with the Lawfulness of Heaven while doing his best to keep everyone alive through the crusade. He drinks a lot of coffee.

First Impressions-

Seelah: There are worse people to be trapped in a hole with in a city under siege by demons. A paladin is one of the best options running. I just hope she isn't too by the books...

Camellia: A noble. Just my luck. We'll be lucky to crawl out of this hole with our sanity intact. She has all the fixings of a higher-than-though noble... and yet. There's something off about this one. Some glimmer in her eye I just can't place a finger on. I need to be careful with this one.

Lann: I've never heard of a mongrel before. He seems cheery enough for someone who's lived their whole life underground. Certainly much more open that his companion here. Free spirited, headstrong. I can respect that.

Wenduag: You, I don't trust. I know what it's like to carve out a living in the wilds, amongst a tribe. Those that refuse to walk with kin do not last long, unless there is something else going on in the background. You and Camellia might get along, I feel. You have the same steely glint to your eye, no matter what honey rolls off your tongue.

Woljif: A thief turned crusader. That ought to be something. Woljif might play it cool, but there's a jumpiness to that one. I couldn't leave him in that cell. He seems a little too eager to jump out into the burning streets. He'll bear watching, but I don't think he's as cowardly as he wants to appear.

Ember: No one will touch this child again so long as she remains in my care. To maintain such innocence in her philosophies after being so wronged by the forces that claim to act in the greater good. She is either crazy, or hopelessly optimistic. Either way, she will be protected.

Daeran: Just what I need. Another pompous noble who cares for nothing but his own entertainment. He knows the city better than any of us, and his influence might prove useful. I'll placate him for now, let him get his fill of blood. Gods, hopefully he grows bored and just stays at the inn.

Nenio: A scientist with a death wish that cannot even remember home. Am I the one going mad? Perhaps it is perfectly reasonable to be strolling the streets in the middle of a warzone, asking cultists what they really know about their gods. She has gall. I respect the hells out of that.

Finnean: Poor soul.

Ulbrig: A hundred year old griffon just came crashing through the roof, demanding to know what I did to his lands? I don't have time for this. Well, I might have time for this. This just keeps getting stranger. Maybe he'll calm down once we get him some ale.

Sosiel: A cleric of beauty in the middle of a warzone? What confused loyalties have led you here my friend? He seems nice enough, though I fear he may lack the spine for what is to come. If he can find beauty on a battlefield? Gods, I would envy him. He is even less prepared for this than I.

Regill: Clipped, professional, a man of few words beyond those required for what passes as hellknight tactics. I abhor his organization. I hate with all my heart his treatment of prisoners, wounded, and allies. Yet, his chapter knows how to run an army, run a supply train. I need his experience, as much as I loathe to admit it. We'll be allies, though I may suffer some sleepless nights.

Arueshalae: A demon that wears an icon of Desna? Can demons truly turn on the abyss? I don't see a reason they couldn't I suppose. My own kin are called demons the whole world round for our horns and tails. Who am I to judge if her intentions are true? I'll need to keep an eye on our new ally, but something tells me she's telling the truth. Desna may not be my chosen patron, but she shares a realm with Erastil. May old deadeye guide me true.

Greybor: Any fellow willing to charge a baylor with naught but a dagger is one worth meeting. An assassin by trade? Not exactly my old job description, but I'm sure there's plenty of overlap between that and a bounty hunter. As soon as this is all wrapped up, I need to buy that man a drink.

Trever: Oh Sosiel. A man who wanders from the path is not all lost. I cannot speak to the horrors Trever has suffered in the Abyss, nor can I judge him for the things he has done to survive. I will get him home. That much I can do. As soon as we get out of this thrice damned place.

Queen Galfrey: I am officially over my head. I'm here on a bloody bounty contract, killing demons for gold and hunting the occasional deserter turned bandit. Now, I'm drinking with a Queen and being handed control of a crusading army? It's not too late to slip out the back door, I suppose. But these powers... Gods damn it, this is not the kind of mess I need to be mixed up in.

The Hand of the Inheritor: Oh joy, the right hand of Iomedae, herself. Of all the realms to be looking over my shoulder, I got the lawyers of the afterlife. Angel's have long been allies of the crusade, but I cannot say that I was expecting to have the right hand of the goddess herself looking over my shoulder.

Final Thoughts:

Seelah: One of the finest people I shall ever have the pleasure to know. First among drinking buddies. First into the fray and the last to leave the field. I have had the privilege to meet very few people who truly care as much as Seelah. This war has bent her, but I believe she shall never be broken. I shall treasure her friendship for the rest of my days.

Camellia: I have no regrets in her fate. Thousands of soldiers have perished under my command over this past year. Thousands of families have been devastated, left without sons, daughters, mothers and fathers. That some would be murdered like livestock in my own camp? There was never a way that Camellia could have left that basement alive. Horgus Germ will face tribunal, and perhaps I may sleep soundly again. I very much doubt it.

Lann: Faithful friend. Never have I seen one so wracked with guilt, and yet, you have survived it. I am proud to call you my brother. I cannot explain to you how angry I felt when I thought you would be the instrument of your own demise. I would never have you question my faith in you. I am glad that you found the strength to question your faith in yourself. Please do not name that boat after me.

Wenduag: I cannot help but feel that I could have done more for you. So focused were you on strength, on finding or creating the stronger master. I hope that you found peace in the end, for you have left me with none. For Lann's sake, I hope you found peace.

Woljif: I cannot overstate how proud I am of you. You overcame your demons, quite literally, and chose the higher path. You could have sunk deep into your magic, claimed the power that was before you, but instead you struggled on. I hope you're enjoying your retirement, my friend. I believe we're going plane hopping next month...

Ember: I have never seen someone surprise a god so thoroughly as you. Even Arueshalae is baffled that you managed to flip the Redeemer Queen. They will regale you as a saint, I'm sure. But your friends know the truth. You're just another person, trying to create as much good in the world as you can. I always look forward to your visits.

Daeran: I never did apologize for misjudging you so badly. While I think you and I would never quite see eye to eye, I am proud of how far you've come. I hope you're enjoying shaking up Queen Galfrey's court. She'll need some excitement in peace time. Don't forget that we're vacationing with Woljif soon. I can't wait to hear all the details you've left out of your letters.

Nenio: You continue to baffle me. I'm not sure that I will ever truly understand the depths of your mind. Though I can confidently say that being told to "take my pants off" for friendship in the abyss is a memory that I will never forget. Thank you for making me your assistant. Even if it took you years to finally learn my name.

Finnean: Rest well, my friend. You've earned it.

Ulbrig: I don't think I'm going to ever get used to the idea of you as a god. Come visit some time, yeah? I'll never outdrink you, but it is always a joy to try.

Sosiel: My dearest friend. I do not know how, but we survived. I hope that you are getting the rest you deserve. Your estate is lovely, and your cherry wine is still Arue's favorite. I know that you have your quiet days. The world was never as hoped it would be. But with Trever, and your love at your side, I hope you still find beauty wherever you look. We'll come visit again soon.

Regill: I never expected to have the respect that I harbor for you. We were never quite friends, but I think we now understand each other. I cannot help but admire your discipline, even as it kills you. I hope for nothing more than joy for you. However you choose to find it.

Arueshalae: My darling, what else is there to be said? I am so proud of you for the impossible heights that you have scaled. Our cabin on the water is beautiful. I cannot wait to explore many more dreams with you.

Greybor: I will never understand you. A man truly married to the job. I wish you well, friend. May you stand the test of time and ambition. It takes a lot of gall to run an assassin's guild in the abyss.

Trever: I hope you find your peace, friend. I suspect it will not be found in gods, nor liquor. You have a long and dark road still to walk, but I can think of no finer a man to walk beside you than your brother.

Queen Galfrey: I harbor you no ill will for your trespasses against me. I cannot imagine the weight on your shoulders after a hundred years of war. Your realm is changing rabidly now, new councils, new liberties. The real test of your rule has begun. I am curious to see how you intend to handle it.

The Hand of the Inheritor: Last we spoke you asked me to kill you. I cannot say if I made the right choice in refusal. I hope you found your healing, my friend. I will search for you soon, my friends at my back. If heaven deigned not to open its gates to its finest servant, hurt and broken after fighting its war for it, I will tear down those golden gates myself. Wherever you are, I hope the sun shines brightly. We shall meet again soon enough.

BONUS:

Irabeth:

First- Finally, someone competant to take all this over. Hey, hey, what do you mean I'm in charge???

Final- Anevia is the luckiest woman in the world to have someone as steady as you around. I would not have survived without you. Please bring those cinnamon cookies over again next time, I think Arue would kill me if I forgot to ask.

Anevia:

First- A kindred spirit. We're going to get along famously. Assuming we survive this of course.

Final- The greatest spymaster I could have asked for, and an even greater friend. I will not forget the blackberry mead next time. That was my bad.

#tag games #Wrath of the righteous my beloved #TWB: Allix

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saintsofwarding · 1 year ago

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WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by @keltii-tea

Chapter 28: Epilogue

"Hey. Boss."

Chris Redfield looked up, his mug of green tea half-raised to his mouth. Tundra- Emily- stood in his office doorway, her forearm braced against the frame. Her dark eyes flicked up and down, taking in Chris's hunched position over the desk, his tea, the thin laptop he'd been staring at with brow furrowed, the stacks of papers heaped all over the desk, and the shelves, and the floor.

"Am I interrupting something?" she said, after a beat.

"Someone's always interrupting something," Chris said.

"Something important, though?"

Chris's mouth quirked in a smile. "What have you got for me?"

"All business, Chris." She stepped into his office and immediately crossed to the window to pull open the blinds. Chris squinted in the wash of gray sunlight, weak and rain-filled though it was. "Jesus, boss, this plant is barely clinging to life."

She'd turned toward the struggling money tree set atop an overflowing filing cabinet in the corner of the room, giving its dry leaves a flick.

Chris groaned, finally tearing his eyes away from the laptop in front of him. "Take it if you want. There's not really room for it in here."

"Nor water?"

"No water. Only caffeinated beverages and protein shakes."

"You need a life."

"Find me the time, and I'll get one. Come on." He beckoned to her. "Show me what you brought."

Emily kicked the door shut with her boot heel, cutting the sounds of the BSAA European HQ down to a murmur. The huge glass-and-steel edifice was uncomfortably modern, and made Chris feel like he was in some kind of biohazard research facility, or, God forbid, an Umbrella lab. But he'd got used to it, like he'd got used to a lot of things. He had to.

The work wasn't over yet.

Six months had passed since the events of the village. The second events, specifically, and one had to be specific when dealing with the BSAA bureaucracy. Chris longed to get back out in the field, dispense with this endless paperwork, but it was necessary for this latest project, this latest mission. Its parameters were simple:

Locate Rosemary Winters, the second host of the Romanian megamycete.

Easier said than done. Once the dust settled and the sphere of impenetrable mold-roots Rose had summoned around herself and the other Lords collapsed, it was empty.

Not surprising. She had found her family. She probably wanted more than anything to be alone with them. Time would tell whether that was a good thing- or an apocalyptically terrible one. Still, Chris reasoned, she'd been able to keep Heisenberg in check, albeit by a thread. As for the others...well. At least she wasn't Miranda.

The BSAA was there within a few hours, called in by Hound Wolf Squad to evacuate the townsfolk from the neighboring valley. They swept the area, the destroyed village, the great pit his bomb had blasted into the landscape. Chris hadn't seen Mia Winters amongst the Lords. Most likely she was dead, murdered by Heisenberg or one of the others in retaliation for her crimes against them. Or, knowing them, just for fun.

That was probably the tidiest solution, but Chris sure as hell hoped it wasn't how it had gone down with her. Mia had done terrible things over the course of her involvement with bioterrorism, and not to mention withholding Ethan's death and resurrection from him, but she'd still been his friend. They'd shared experiences. They'd shared grief. And in the end, all she'd wanted was to get Ethan back and maybe-

Maybe-

Begin to make things right.

And had she? Chris commandeered Hound Wolf Squad as BSAA choppers circled overhead, had searched the village ruins and delved down into the pit, lycan activity at a low thanks to the oncoming day. Ethan's remains would be down there, if they were anywhere, and he searched the crater all day, through the evening, past moonrise, into the beginnings of another night.

Nothing was there.

If Ethan's body had somehow survived the blast, if it had somehow lingered in some extant form, it- and he- was now long gone.

***

Emily tugged a chair over and sank into it, leafing through the thick file in her hands. It was bursting at the seams with documents, smaller folders, photographs and faxes and print-outs. All the compiled evidence from their operatives also on the mission, as well as documents sent from other, smaller BSAA hubs.

"Where shall I start..." Emily's red brows shot skyward. "Aha. Here's a good one. Okay, get this. In the underground alternative and industrial music scene of Berlin, Germany, a woman reports having seen a band play with- and I quote- 'supernatural skill and mesmerizing sexuality'. She goes on to describe the lead singer, bassist, and drummer: a very tall woman, a young blonde, and a man covered in scars who reportedly made the entire sound system levitate, much to the delight of the audience. And here's the kicker: this band's name? Black God Death Cult."

"False lead."

"Huh? Really?"

"Claire's seen them. Multiple times. They're clear."

"Oh. Uh, okay, then, still on the subject of music-" She ruffled some papers. "How about this. A black metal band in Iceland called Gear Torture whose aesthetic revolves around rust, decay, horror imagery-"

"Nah."

"What about Iron Stallion Sixty-"

"Em, I don't think the Four Lords are going undercover as a metal band," Chris interrupted.

"Iron Stallion Sixty-Nine isn't metal, Chris," Tundra said dryly.

"Please move on."

"You sure you don't want to hear about-" Her voice dropped into crime-show-announcer tones. "-the Monster Catfish of Lake Baikal, Captured on Video? Could be the fish-man. There's a YouTube link."

"No."

"Right. So here's an interesting one. An entire convent of nuns in Samokov, Bulgaria described to one of our operatives their strange and entrancing visions of dead relatives that plagued them for hours before dissipating. Their water supply tested clear, as did their food, but a peculiar organic particulate lingering in the air raised questions with the investigation team whether young Lady Beneviento had come to call."

"A convent of nuns."

"That's what this says."

"Had a bunch of visions."

"Correct."

Chris leaned back in his too-small chair, rubbing his hand down his face. God, he was tired, and the green tea wasn't doing shit to change that. Maybe he should swap back to coffee. Maybe he should go have a cigarette. "Maybe they should call an exorcist."

"Boss, are you taking this seriously?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Em." He let out his breath and straightened up, reaching for his now-lukewarm tea. "Keep going."

She watched him through her lowered lashes, fox-like eyes sharp as ever. "Do you even want to find her?" she asked, quietly.

Chris met her gaze. The silence between them lingered. He could hear the rain beating against the window, the traffic twenty stories below, the hum of the building around them, the conversation in the hall that grew louder and faded as it passed his door. This place, this world. All the people in it, alive and breathing because so many like Emily and the rest of Hound Wolf Squad- like him- like Piers, and Ethan, and all the others who had given their lives- had sacrificed so much to keep the monsters back. To keep them from the door. To decide, sometimes in extremis, where the line must be drawn. How far he had to go to keep the darkness at bay.

And six months ago, whether he liked it or not, he'd crossed that line. Rose had become...he didn't know what. A new Miranda? He hoped not. A new host for the megamycete was his official take, but he knew it was more than that. The megamycete...the Black God...was more than that. Archival memory, spanning thousands of years. Power he could scarcely fathom. Power that organizations like Umbrella, like the Connections, like Ouroboros, for all their dreams of conquest and grandeur, could only scratch the surface of.

Sparrows, thinking because they felt the sunlight on their wings, they knew the true heat of the sun.

Rosemary had made her decision. She had stood with the other mutants, open to his fire. He should have taken her down. He could have. Cult leader or not, she was flesh and blood. But he hadn't. He'd lowered his rifle.

He'd let her go.

And even now, he couldn't be sorry about that. He thought of Heisenberg, of all people, and what must have transpired in the days after the village's original destruction to make him into what he had become. A far cry from the great Lord who'd served Miranda, that was for damn sure. When you can't bend, you break. And he couldn't deny Heisenberg and Rose were survivors.

And, maybe, though it chafed to admit it, though it went against everything he'd fought for all these years-

They were people, too.

Time would tell if they became decent ones.

So he looked at Emily and shrugged. "'Course I do," he told her. "Any more cryptids in that file of yours?"

"Nah. That's it for now. I'll come back when there's more."

"I'll take a look. Make sure Black God Death Cult isn't a front for Karl Heisenberg's newest cyborg army scheme after all."

"Sure thing, boss." She tossed the file onto his desk. It landed with a weighty smack. "Hey. Come to dinner this Friday? My wife's making that one stir fry thing you like."

"If I can get out-"

"Come on, Chris."

He smiled again. "Okay, Em. See you later."

She left with the money tree. The door clicked shut. Chris stared at the file for a couple seconds, then reached out for it.

Something was sticking from the papers within- a corner of stiff cardstock. Chris frowned and tugged it forth. A postcard. A little dented, a little battered. The front showed a generic seaside scene. The back-

He read it once, twice, without comprehension. Then it struck him. A rush of cold and hot, crackling through his nerves. He didn't move from his place at the desk, his fingers locked around the postcard with its single message, written in bubbly letters.

Wish you were here.

His head jerked up as the door to his office opened again and Emily stuck her head through. "Sorry, boss," she said, a little breathless. "You got a visitor."

"...Who is it?"

"You'd...you'd better come and see."

The tension radiating from the waiting room was thick in the air, even before Chris and Emily strode in, Em snapping effortlessly into Tundra-mode, her hand resting lightly on her holstered sidearm. They made it down the stairs and into the waiting room, as modern as the rest of the building, its glass exterior wall cutting out in sharp silhouette the half-dozen plainclothes operatives with pistols pointed at the solitary figure between them. The receptionist had her hand on a panic button; relief filled her eyes when Chris and Emily entered the room and stopped outside the circle of BSAA ops.

"What's going on here?" Chris said.

"Sir." One of the operatives nodded at the stranger, who wore a hooded jacket, a large, heavy-looking duffel bag open and on the floor at their feet. Their hands were raised, their head down. "She just came in. Asked to see you. Then showed what was in the bag."

Chris kept his eyes on the stranger. He couldn't see her face- just a glimpse of chin and a couple strands of gray-brown hair. His hands lifted, palms out, he stepped past the gun barrels. The stranger didn't move as he bent, as he moved aside the open zipper of the bag.

The light gleamed off milky crystal. A collection of broken limbs. And a familiar face.

A smile touched Chris's mouth.

"Thought you were dead, Mia," he said.

Mia Winters pulled back her hood. She looked about as tired as he felt, dark circles stamped under her eyes, her brows furrowed together. But he saw hope in her gaze, and in her voice when she spoke, vivid and undeniable.

"Not yet," she said. "And...I'm hoping...that's two of us." She glanced around at the other operatives, then back to Chris. "I heard you have access to something miraculous. You call it the MARS, right? A mold recombination system?"

She paused, and there was something brittle in the silence, a yearning so strong it seemed to shimmer from her, from every tense movement. Her lips fluttered; she licked them, then took a short breath to speak again.

"A means of resurrection?" she asked.

Chris should have ordered her immediate arrest. Should have ordered Ethan's remains whisked away, stored in containment somewhere until a thousand and a half tests could be run on the calcified biomatter.

Could have, should have, would have.

This time, for the first time in nearly sixteen years, his full smile felt real.

"I think," he told Mia, holding out his hand for hers, "we can talk."

***

Sunlight, fading.

A brush of warmth on her skin, just as fast stolen by the wind.

Another day, ending.

"Eyes on the road, kid."

"I know." Rose opened her eyes, focusing again on the long, curving single-track road ahead of the range rover wheels. The vehicle had once been painted green; now it was more rust than paint, the entire body rattling ominously each time she accelerated, but Heisenberg had souped up the engine to breathtaking levels. Now, it ran like a luxury automobile, albeit with more glowing exhaust ports and clouds of black smoke than most.

Rippling fields of grass spread to either side, golden in the fading, liquid light of afternoon. Cloud-shadows moved over the expanse of moorland like great beasts just beneath the surface of still water, the land itself flowing like the sea until it broke off, suddenly, and plunged to the waves themselves, the world ending in favor of the water.

Here and there, patches of purple heather or jutting rock formations broke the expanse of green-gray and blue-green and peat-brown, but the splendor of this place was in the sky, unbroken by tree or building or mountain, echoing on and on forever.

Rose had never visited the Highlands during her and Heisenberg's brief stint in Glasgow; neither had he, and, glancing sideways at him in the passenger seat, Rose could see the way he drank it in with his eyes, even behind his round shades. Every new place must still seem like a wonder to him; two decades wasn't so long to be out, not in comparison to the long life he'd led before. He did a pretty good job covering up his true feelings with brash remarks and cocky bravado, but in the end, he did have a heart.

Rose knew. She'd literally seen it.

He wasn't driving. He was forbidden to after they'd been pulled over eight times in England and southern Scotland for driving all over the center line and yelling threats at the other drivers that included suggestions he'd remove their limbs and sew them on backwards, a feat which, Rose also knew, Heisenberg was fully capable of. They'd had a drawn-out argument which ended in Rose stealing his glasses and hiding them until he one- bought her a coffee and two- gave her sole driving privileges. Though, Rose reasoned, if he really, really wanted to, nothing was stopping him from taking control of the entire metal body of the car and doing something, uh, uncool.

Now, silence had fallen, save for the sound of the tires on the road, the low, hazy music on the radio, and the wind whistling through the cracked window. A new place. Each hill, each dip in the land, each ancient stone tower standing sentinel against the sky, each meter of road racing beneath them, each was new.

They were out.

They were free.

All of them. Even Moreau. They had retreated from the carnage of the village after Rose's dramatic little declaration to Chris, and Moreau had insisted, with his newfound confidence, the Lords go and check on his followers down by the reservoir.

They were there, all right, the group of robed cultists shivering in the frigid dawn, bare feet blue in the snow. They were used to castle life, after all. But Moppet bounded toward him with a squeal of delight and threw herself into Moreau's arms, raining kisses down on his face and slimy lips while Moreau held her.

"Your holy relic saved us, Lord Moreau!" Moppet said, between kisses. "The phial you gave me so long ago? It spared all of us from the wolves!"

"Thank goodness," Moreau mumbled. "Thank goodness. If...if I had lost you...if I had lost you for good..."

His eyes were squeezed shut, the contentment on his face undeniable. Rose thought of the glimpse she'd seen of him before, the earnest love on his face as he'd spoken to Miranda and Eva. The face might look a little different, but the love was the same. Better, now. Moppet looked at him exactly the same way.

At last, Moppet stood back, flushed and giggling, and Moreau faced Rose and the Lords once more.

"Come with us," Rose urged. "Your followers, too. You're always a part of this family."

Moreau gave her a look of gentle melancholy. "No, Rosemary," he told her. "I...I will never...never be...welcome out there. Beyond. Once, maybe, I..." He paused for a moment, staring hard into the distance. "A long, long time ago, maybe, I would have...wanted. But now...no more. No longer. I have found something...something...better."

He glanced at Moppet. "And where...I belong."

"Okay," Rose said. She swooped forward and gave him a little peck on the cheek. "You know best."

He touched his cheek, then bobbed his head up and down in a firm nod. "I will see you..." he said, then seemed to ponder. "Again," he decided. "Perhaps."

"Good luck, Salvatore," Rose told him. "All of you."

"See ya, fishstick," Heisenberg said gruffly, elbowing Moreau in the side. "Take care of the dame, now, won't you?"

"Forever," Moreau said, taking Moppet's hand, holding it tight between his own.

And, later, Rose stood by as Moreau led his people to a cleft in a rocky cliff, a cave mouth leading down and down into darkness. One by one, they stepped through, Moppet holding aloft a lantern, her back laden with a pack full of supplies, each of the other cultists now outfitted for the journey- to where, Rose had no idea. A better place, perhaps, than Moreau had ever known. A kinder one. A crystal city, far beneath the earth.

A paradise, where they would be safe forever.

It wasn't her place to know. She simply watched as Moreau's followers vanished into the darkness, as Moppet's lantern bobbed, a ball of light, then a point, then a pinprick, then gone altogether.

Dimitrescu, too. Once Moreau and his followers set out, the rest of them, bruised and exhausted and starving, had trooped up to the castle to huddle in the dark, dank, dusty rooms and rest as best they could. The first floor, and the entry wing to the castle, was still crusted with Moreau's slime- pretty wrecked- not to mention the ominous pool of dried gore that covered the cracked floor of the main hall.

Dimitrescu merely smiled at this.

"My dinner," she said, "disagreed with me." and extended a single nail to pick at some invisible scrap between her clean white teeth.

Past the first floor, however, Rose couldn't help but gasp at the splendor. Glossy white walls covered with ornamental gilt, sconces molded in the shapes of flowers, gleaming mahogany and priceless artworks. The layer of dust and grime over it all couldn't disguise that this place totally freaking ruled. Rose decided to not ask to have a look at the basement. Preserve the illusion, and all that.

Dimitrescu vanished somewhere in the maze of corridors, leaving Rose, Donna, Angie, and Heisenberg to pass out on one of the gargantuan four-posters in one of the castle's many bedrooms, to hide from the sound of helicopters outside, to stuff down as much preserved meat and tinned goods and priceless wine as they could scavenge from the kitchens.

Eventually, days later, Dimitrescu re-emerged. Rose had looked up from her book, from which she'd been reading a story to Donna and Angie. Her eyes got big. If Lady Dimitrescu had been intimidating before, fixed up and dressed to the nines she was nothing short of breathtaking. Swathed in shimmering silver silk jersey, in smoke-gray furs soft as snowfall, rope of pearls at her throat, black hat perched on her fresh, gleaming curls, she set a long cigarette holder to her crimson lips and exhaled blue into the gloom.

"Fuck, Alci," Heisenberg said, as a wave of expensive amber-musk perfume rolled across them. "Something die in here?"

"Shut up, you disgusting little rat," she snapped, and took another drag on her cigarette. She seemed to gather herself, then turned with a smile to face Rose.

"Child," she said. "I wish to offer my most...sincere thanks for your involvement in the reclamation of my castle. And I wish to convey how deeply sorry I am that I must, now, say farewell."

"What?" Rose closed her book. "You're leaving, too?"

Heisenberg let out a bark of triumphant laughter.

"Indeed," Dimitrescu said, with a glare toward him and a slight edge to her voice. "I know you and your...caretaker...will be wanting to travel together, and that simply will not do for me. Besides. The events here...our brother's regeneration...my own...and yours," she added, nodding to Donna. "All of it has made me consider...mmm...future paths I thought had been closed to me."

A distant look filled her eyes, her self-satisfied smirk fading. "Future paths I thought were long gone," she went on.

"Your daughters?" Rose asked.

Dimitrescu looked down on her again. "Indeed."

"They...they might not have regenerated, like you did," Rose said, tentatively. "They weren't Lords."

"No," Dimitrescu agreed. "But consider this, child. When your father slaughtered them, and sold them, and smiled at my misfortune, all hope was lost. And I was lost with it. All things, shattered. All loyalties, tested. Now, there is hope again. And though it may end in blood and tears for me...for them- for my darling girls- I will risk it."

She took up an oxblood traveling-case- stamped, Rose noticed, with the House Dimitrescu crest.

"I will return," she said, casting her gaze about the heights of the room, about the castle beyond. "Rest assured. But for now..."

A feral glint entered her eyes.

"...I must have words with the Duke."

***

Donna, meanwhile, was fast asleep in the back of the range rover, impervious to the bumps and jostles in the uneven road. Rose glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She'd shed her usual eyepatch, her hair down around her shoulders, and though she still tended toward gothy shades and heeled lace-up boots, she'd begun to branch out a little from mourning clothes.

Now, for the special occasion, she'd worn a long embroidered skirt, a brooch at her throat she said had belonged to her mother, and a gray woolen coat she'd made herself. Her arms were curled loosely around Angie, and at her side, tucked for safekeeping under the other seat belt, was an intricately-wrapped box tied with a ribbon.

"Heh. Honk the horn," Heisenberg said.

"Oh my god. You are evil."

He made a wild lunge for the horn. Rose cracked her elbow right into his face. Donna slept on. The moors rolled past, and eventually Rose and Heisenberg quieted down again, and the silence came in, and the wind, and they caught their first glimpse of the sea.

It came up fast- one moment the land seemed endless, and then it broke away, and the ocean spread before them. Vast; endless. Heisenberg leaned forward a little, tipping his glasses up on his head. He'd never seen the ocean before leaving the village with her. What an impossible wonder it must have seemed. What sheer emptiness. Rose wondered if that first sight had been exhilarating to him, or terrifying. She didn't ask. She didn't want to break the silence.

She didn't ask, either, about Mia.

She'd vanished from the chaos. She'd never turned up at the castle. Maybe the BSAA had taken her. And maybe- after what Heisenberg had told her during their several days hiding out in the castle- she'd had her eye on a different goal. Even now, thinking of her, a boil of vindictive heat twisted in Rose's guts. After all she'd done, she'd get away without incident? With Ethan's body? Still. Rose couldn't exactly hold her crimes against her, not for long. How could she, when she'd done what she did for the Four Lords?

They were out, now, free in the world. She'd given them all the means to do what they'd done under Miranda, to be monsters anew. And what monsters they'd once been. A village, destroyed. Decades of pain and suffering, nightmares inflicted on the innocent. Nightmares the scope of which she couldn't truly understand, could only witness through the dreams of the dead. And there was no accounting for that. No true forgiveness. Not unless the dead returned. And that wasn't possible, not for everyone.

But it could end. And now, maybe, it had. And that was all she had. She could only hope it would prove enough.

The road ended in a small car park, empty of other vehicles. Rose parked and killed the engine, dropping down to the dusty pavement. Donna stirred as Rose rapped on the window, then followed Heisenberg out past the pavement, wading through the golden, knee-high grass, all the way to the place where the world ended.

Seagulls mewed and tilted, tossed on the high breeze. The waves crashed at the cliff foot, great sprays of freezing spume and swells of deep, dark blue. The color of the ocean wasn't constant; it shifted, one moment a vivid glass-green, the next a deep, pensive gray, fading to mist out at the point where sky met sea.

Even in early August, the chill of the sea wind was sharp, biting through Rose's jean jacket and into her skin. She shivered. Heisenberg shifted closer, knocking his warm shoulder to hers.

"Happy birthday, kid," he told her.

"Don't mention it."

"Why this place?"

"Ah." She lifted an eyebrow. "You are looking at what will soon be the most beautiful sunset in Britain. According to this one article I read online, anyway. I thought...y'know. Not to get mushy, but I thought it'd be a good place to...begin. Again. Formally. You know, since it's my birthday, a big marker, kind of a nice symbolic breaking-off point-"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Okay, okay." She shut up, watching the waves. "Thanks."

"...Yeah?"

"Without you, I wouldn't be here to turn seventeen and stare at the stupid water."

He smirked. "And don't you forget it."

Rose snorted and rolled her eyes, then looked back at Donna by the range rover, struggling with the hamper.

"Guess we should help her or something," Heisenberg muttered.

"Could just stand here and watch her."

"Careful, kid. You're starting to sound like me."

The three of them together set up near the cliff's edge, spreading a blanket over the grass, weighing it down with jars of honey, cheese and bread, Romanian dishes with pronunciations Donna coached her through. A thermos of tea, full of rich spices that melted on the tongue. And, inside the intricate box, jewel-like pastries so delicately-made they could have only come from Donna's hands. Angie tore at one like a starving raccoon, while Rose marveled at the chocolate tarts and honey-and-walnut mucenici, savoring each bite. She opened presents- a handmade blouse, jacket, and trousers from Donna, embroidered with black and gold roses, and from Heisenberg-

"Since you lost your sword, and all," he said as she lifted the knife from the grease-stained paper grocery bag he'd crumpled around it in place of wrappings. Its blade flared deep-blue in the dying sunlight, and when Rose took its hilt, it fit her hand like she'd been born with it there. She ran her thumb over the thorny vines worked into the crossguard.

"I..." she started. She had to cough and start over. "...I didn't know you were capable of making anything this pretty."

"Shut up and say thank you."

The sun began to set. It sank toward the sea; it melted, and set the wind afire, painting a river of gold over the tops of the waves. The bite of the wind sharpened, and Rose and Heisenberg and Donna and Angie ended up huddled together, like they had been in the castle.

Rose rested her chin on the tops of her knees, staring out toward the horizon. Ouroboros was still out there. She'd take it down, it and so many monstrous things like it. The BSAA, too, and Chris, and her mother. But that was all for another day. For now, she could sit and watch the sunset, taste the wind, the scent of endings bitter on her tongue.

The end of another day.

The beginnings of a new one.

She shifted. Heisenberg looped his arm over her shoulders. She tipped her head sideways against his shoulder, her fingers loosely interlaced with Donna's.

"Drat," Donna said, softly.

"What is it?"

"I think I may have left the stove on in that...strange little house we stayed in."

"Broke in," Heisenberg said.

"Hm. Well..." Her expression became sly. "...I hope they don't mind."

Rose snorted. "You're the coolest aunt ever."

Donna turned bright red, hugging Angie. The doll gibbered at her, and Donna turned up her sleeve, made a small nick in the dead-white flesh of her inner arm, and allowed the tendrils of the Cadou within Angie's head latch onto the cut and feed on the blood. Rose watched, fascinated. Coolest aunt ever, indeed.

"Aha," Heisenberg said, suddenly. "Almost forgot." He reached inside his coat and pulled forth a folder, thin and sepia-stained and tied with twine, stamped with the Ouroboros serpent. Rose lifted her eyebrows as he held it up.

"Did-" she started.

"Did Mia send me this via that weird airmail envelope that courier handed me last week? Yeah. Dunno how the fuck she got ahold of it, but, uh..."

A small black and white photograph was paperclipped to the front. A little boy, facing front, dressed in an old-fashioned collared shirt and V-neck sweater. His round face and bowl-cut hair were those of a stranger, but Rose knew his eyes all too well.

"It's your file," she murmured.

"Sure is. The real deal." His whole life. All the lost decades of it, pieced together by Ouroboros researchers in some distant facility. His past, there in his hands.

"Are you gonna open it?" Rose asked.

Heisenberg considered. Then, in one movement, he tossed it. It spun into the air and over the edge of the cliff, gone in an instant.

"Nah," he said.

He settled again by Rose's side. The three of them watched the sun, watched it sink beneath the horizon, watched the shadows creep long over the sea.

Rose felt a stirring of dread at the darkness, so like the depths of the Black God, the depths of Miranda's grief. She still didn't fully understand what she'd inherited, what it meant for the future. She'd probably never understand it, not unless she lived, as Miranda had said, a long, long life.

And as to who she was?

Maybe there were no real answers.

Heisenberg must have sensed her discomfit. He gave her cheek a light poke with his thumb. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah. Just..." She let out her breath. "You'll always have my back, right?"

"As demonstrated."

"Good."

"Good?"

She looked up at him, and Donna. And yeah, they were terrible. And yeah, they'd done some really, really bad shit. And yeah, they were all mutant monsters.

But so was she.

It filled her, then, with a pang so strong it was close to pain. That she was so she was who she was, in this place, in this body. That they were there with her.

She leaned into Heisenberg, squeezed Donna's hand. "Good that I found you again."

It didn't matter who she was. She'd figure out everything she needed to know herself. And she wouldn't be alone, not even if the night grew dark and the wolves began to howl. They would be with her every step of the path.

"Not gonna get sick of us monsters, kid?" Heisenberg said.

"You're not just monsters," Rose told him. "You're worse. You're family."

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rollercoasterwords · 1 year ago

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oh!!!! happy 100k words wfrau!!!!!!! she's getting bigger (<- like you would speak of a puppy). how long is it supposed to be & how far along are you? and also... would you like to share a snippet you like (from any chapter ofc... no pressure if no it's completely understandable)? what do you enjoy the most about writing it? bc it seems like you're having fun & it's so nice to see someone enjoying a hobby so openly online... especially writing... there's this conception that writers don't actually enjoy writing (the whole 'forcing myself to write' bit) and i'm curious to hear your perspective on it!! also!!!!!! i hope moving will be easy & fun & the world will be kind to you with the change <3 i keep telling myself 2 read marx but i can't find any good translations to my native language and reading it in english is making my brain go grgrgrgrgr like an air conditioner on its last leg so alas it might have to wait... so true for liking iced drinks they're really the best!! i've heard someone say it's childish but i think they just live a very miserable hot life in the august heat drinking their hot coffee instead of putting some ice cubes in it :) it's funny you say that about fav line because it's definitely my fav fic of your writing & the ending of it is soooo beautiful i get back to it every time i need to feel something!!!!! that song line is beautiful too omg... and well the weather is hell everywhere at least the world is all suffering together :( i hope the atmosphere isn't suffering too much :/ honestly i am a big 'i would rather be hot than cold' believer because i am from a hot country so i know how to deal with the heat but you know what i'm sure the chill can also be intriguing to some... not me though... i hope the winter will be kind on you <3 thank u for letting me invade ur ask box i am creating myself a room here for now i think. anyway. love and hugs!!!! <333

hello!! she is indeed getting bigger <3 if i had to guess right now i'd say i'm maybe...possibly nearing the halfway point of the fic, plotwise? but honestly it's really hard to say lol. i've got 2 more story arcs to cover in part 3 (plus finishing the current one), and then part 4 is gonna have like...2 or 3 story arcs as well, plus an epilogue. so it just depends on how long it takes me to cover all that ground!

and yeah i'm having a lot of fun writing!! i know what u mean abt the whole "ugh writing amirite" bit that writers do lol and i'm sure i do it sometimes too...i mean i think tone varies a lot and many people who complain about writing still really enjoy the activity, but i do think there is sometimes this self-flagellating tendency amongst some writers to act like writing is meant to be this strenuous, emotionally draining activity like ur...idk sisyphus w the stone or something, and if you're writing something 'easy' or 'fun' you're somehow a lower caliber of writer than those who Nobly Suffer for their art, etc...which i think is dumb lol. suffering doesn't inherently make art any better or more noble

& thank u 4 the well-wishes w moving!! i'm mostly nervous about getting to my flight on time lol i have to go into work the literal day before i leave and then catch a train across the country at 5am the next morning 2 get 2 the airport...not going 2 be fun so i'll take all the well-wishes i can get !!

sorry 2 hear u can't find marx in ur native language :( it's hard enough 4 me 2 understand reading in my first language i cannot imagine trying 2 parse it in a second language...maybe it might be easier 2 find one of his (or engels') shorter texts 2 read? capital is a monster but i started off with a few shorter pieces ('socialism: utopian and scientific', 'principles of communism', 'wage labour and capital,' 'value price and profit') which i found helpful! also there are lots of secondary resources of other people breaking down + explaining marx's work; maybe there's a good source in your native language that could give a summary/overview of capital? there's no one right way 2 learn, it's just abt finding what works best for u!!

iced drink supremacy 4ever truly <3 me myself & i we can only enjoy a hot beverage if it's very cold outside...otherwise i am simply thinking well why would i do that 2 myself... & thank u!! happy 2 hear u like the lines!! v happy w them v proud <3 & also appreciate the well-wishes re: weather i cannot relate 2 the hot-weather preference i much prefer cold...or at least i used to i grew up in a relatively cold climate but then i moved south 4 university so at this point i'm going on 6 years of living in what is categorized as a "humid subtropical climate" & i think my winter tolerance has been all but destroyed it hardly ever drops below freezing...but hot&humid weather is still my least favorite i think i would prefer icy-cold winter + mild summer but i will be actually putting that theory 2 the test this year so!! who knows maybe my hubris will be my downfall...

& of course!! u are welcome 2 stop by + chat anytime...in my heart we are drinking iced beverages 2gether <3 also as requested here is a snippet from ch 14:

“Don’t,” he tells her, firmly, “Don’t say that. I don’t—want you involved. If they ever did anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” She stares at him, eyes ablaze. “And how do you think I feel? Knowing that they only pick on you because—” her voice falters, cracking, “Because you’re with me?” Her lip is trembling again, tears threatening to spill over from her eyes. Sirius shakes his head, helplessly, at a loss for what to do.

#snippet is a bit spoilery i think...might be able 2 piece 2gether some of what's gonna happen based on it #but also might just be confusing lol #hard 2 post anything from ch 14 without giving some stuff away tho so!! out-of-context possibly-spoilers it is...#ask #wfrau

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ozzni · 9 months ago

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that "from the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh" speech really resonates with me. well, a bit less on that part about "hahahaha I'm so much better than you, grovel at my mechanical feet so I may make you better", The strength and purity of steel is a gift to all, regardless of when they discover it. The Omnissiah shall grant it's perfection to all who seek it. cast off your flesh body. if it takes until your body fails you in old age for you to realize it's weakness, that's alright. You may still be saved. My body failed me earlier than it would fail most people, by giving me a male shaped form. I intend to remedy it. there are further flaws, of course. my eyes dont properly work, so I wear glasses. my arches are absurdly high, so I wear special soles. I have a disgusting lump of flesh on my groin, and it will be removed. I am covered in itchy, scratchy, disgusting filth (or body hair), and it will be burned away. I have a stutter and a set baseline voice tone and low maximum speech pitch, and it will be trained, and potentially cut, away. And at some point, standard medicine and psychology will not go far enough. my glasses are fragile. my soles exist only in my shoes, and don't last very long before failing to give proper support. the skin will continue to hurt and gather new discomforts. the groin will continue to spew out wasted resource (admittedly, this one I kind of don't actually mind that much and I think I'll be fine with having a vagina actually). I may well forget my training, and it will be far too long before I can speak effortlessly and in comfort. This is where the machine comes in. tough, smooth, soft, and easily cleaned plastics can replace my skin. A cybernetic eye can give me perfect vision, allow me to focus on multiple targets, maybe even see MORE COLORS!!! My feet can be replaced by... well we already have prosthetic legs so I don't even really need to imagine what I can do here, just get feet but they don't sweat or hurt (of course, the discomfort there will most likely move up to the connection point for the leg, and I can probably just fix the arches thing surgically, so ehhhh). Voice... actually idk what exactly replaces it. I guess a digital voicebox? But that gives me total vocal control! of course, everything I'm writing about after the first list is purely fantasy for me, because the tech for most of that doesn't exist and the stuff that does exist is just really damn expensive, and it's kinda not worth it to me to cut off my legs just to stop having foot sweat and pain. But like... a girl can dream, you know? hell, if we're being fantastical, I could just stop relying on a body altogether and upload my mind to a computer and if I ever need to look at/feel my cute body I can just simulate out whatever I want. Other than the whole "there's a bunch of people who can kill me easily and at any time if I don't behave exactly as they think i should" thing, Dragon had it good. wish I could be like her. Maybe we wouldn't be friends exactly, but I would hope we could be close. because of the shared state of being. if there was only you and one other human in a world of other people alien to you that the two of you lived amongst, you would probably learn to become friends. But I guess Dragon has the opposite problem to me, she wants to be more human and less mechanical, while I want to be more mechanical and less human. But we both use she/her pronouns so what's not to love?

#transhuman #transgender #the machine #the flesh #mechanicus #Dragon #worm

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residentdormouse · 1 year ago

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Fanfic Asks

A, D, F, J, T

I'll leave the fic up to you - talk to me about your favourite!

💖 Thank You for the Asks! 💖

I reordered a bit for spoiler purposes - hope you don’t mind.

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

Something like a Spiral - Honestly, probably should have just went straight ‘Spiral’, but too late, no take backs, it stuck. Its a song - Spiral by Godsmack. Very thematic to the whole story. Randall Flagg’s fuckery and being stuck in these reiterations. It just… fit.

Just Keep Diving Down - ‘the rabbit hole’ would finish it off. Reference to Alice in Wonderland (Are we really surprised here? It's kind of my whole thing…) I mean hell, Glen has the line “Let’s see how far down the rabbit hole goes.” which I have plastered on my Tumblr header. To completely solidify the decision, I heard it in ‘White Rabbit’ by Central Egypt when I was debating titles as well. While the song doesn’t completely fit the whole vibe, it stuck.

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

Oh boy, and how. I’m crazy with my playlists. While there are story playlists, I much prefer my character playlists. Oh it’s a Glen chapter, let's vibe for a bit. Lloyd? Ok, switch it up. Etc. I have all of my playlists on Spotify, and linked in my ‘Jumping to Wonderland’ main post.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I really liked how this turned out, because it was one of those times where I hit a block. I wanted Glen to be comforting, stop her from crying, and it wasn’t flowing right. Felt stale. So I talked with @impuretale , and she gave me sage advice: What if he made it worse? And that worked. Well, at least I hoped it did…

Laughter mingled amongst her crying. While his smile met his eyes in that familiar twinkle, it still pulled at her heart. “I don’t know that I can protect you.”

"Maybe you can't, Giggles…"

It hit her like a punch to the gut. Her stomach dropped while his smile remained. Twinkling eyes while her insides felt hollowed out. "Maybe this is what was always meant to be. And maybe there's some truth in what he told you."

Her breathing started to quicken in pace, and she attempted to hold it in her lungs if only to feel some sort of control. How could he say that? New tears stung her eyes, and the burn went all the way to her throat where she held back the air desperately wanting to escape in a breath.

"Maybe you shouldn't ‘waste your energy on dead men’, as he put it. You need it for him. To make this all mean something."

She couldn't hold it any longer, and the tears broke past once more. He pulled her back in another embrace, and she buried her face into his chest as the sobs racked her body. He held her solid, reassuring and comforting while still completely shattering her heart. There was no holding back now; these were harsh truths she might have to accept. Her breathing began to even out as he rubbed circles on her back. Once it was regulated, he pulled away; just enough to look her in the eyes.

"Mother Abagail said that we need to have faith. I'm not sure what's beyond here. God. An afterlife. Heaven. Hell. I don't have much faith in all that. But I have faith in you. If this is going to be successful, you'll need to be ready for him."

He put a hand on her cheek, and her shoulders slumped down, head leaning forward to rest against his. A brief moment passed before he urged her to look back at him. Her eyes still shimmered wet, but held anything further at bay.

“So what do you say, Giggles? Give this another shot?”

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I mean, if it's well written, I’ll read just about anything. I don’t tend to seek out stuff like A/B/O, and honestly, not into a whole lot of overly explicit smut without a good solid plot to accompany. (I know I know - I write it, but I’m smut light, at best.) Plot heavy and hurt/comfort is my jam. But again, if it's written well, I usually don’t have any ‘no go’s.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

Going with ‘Just Keep Diving Down’, and since this is major spoilers - putting below a cut.

The major character death aspect of this really fucking destroyed me. Since you’re here, you most likely don’t care about spoilers, so towards the end, Glen dies. Again. The thing I started writing these goddamn stories to fix. I struggled with this for months. In denial. Not happy. Very upset. (Hell, I still am. Can’t listen to ‘Run Away to Mars’ without crying anymore because it was the song playing when I was writing it all.) I knew the goal was to bring him back, ghost form. Gives him the best of both worlds then, travel with Hayden to new worlds pain free, while still being able to see his prior wife. Win win. Still fucking hurt.

So alternate would have been Not. Fucking. Doing. That. It was the original plan. Hayden and Glen were going to be working for the organization still, taking things in a better direction. That was the goal, and one day, my Glen muse hit me with a ‘yeah, you won’t like this, but…’ Why couldn’t we just follow the plan guys? WHY CAN’T WE FOLLOW THE PLAN?!

(Fanfic Writer Ask Game)

#thank you for asking #mouse's tag games and reblogs

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thejustmaiden · 3 years ago

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So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

#anti yashahime #anti sessrin #sesshomaru is rin's dad #papamaru #hogosha 💖#the sequel may not be canon but sunrise can still burn in hell

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yazthebookish · 4 years ago

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The Illyrian conflict being set up in ACOSF along with Valkyries for the next book.

This won't be an analysis post, I'll share lines from the book that hints at the Illyrian/Valkyrie conflict happening in the next book which I believe would likely be Azriel's book (who else will deal with Illyria at this big scale)?

He’d been anticipating this talk since he’d spent four months with the Illyrians, soothing the jagged edges amongst the war-bands, making sure the families who’d lost fathers and sons and brothers and husbands were taken care of, that they knew he was there to help and to listen, and generally making it very fucking clear that if they rose up against Rhys, there would be hell to pay.

“What, we’re doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?” “Don’t play stupid,” Rhys said coolly. Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother that the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them.

“I met a female shop owner at Windhaven who’d had her wings clipped.” She turned her head from the sky to look over at him. His face had tightened. “Why do Illyrians do that?” “To control their women,” Cassian said with quiet anger. “It’s an old tradition. Rhys and I tried to stamp it out by making it illegal, but change takes a while amongst the High Fae. For stubborn asses like the Illyrians, it takes even longer.

Change comes slowly for us. What humans accomplish in decades takes us centuries. Longer, if you live in Illyria.” “Then why do you bother with the Illyrians?” “Because I fought like hell to prove my worth to them.” His eyes glittered. “To prove that my mother brought some good into this world.”

“Are there truly no female fighting units amongst the Illyrians?” She hadn’t seen any during the war. His smile faded. “We tried once and it failed spectacularly. So, no. There aren’t.” -- “The Illyrians … I told you. Progress is slow. It’s an ongoing goal of ours—me and Rhys, I mean.” “It’s that hard for the females to become warriors?” “It’s not just the training. It’s running the social gauntlet, too. And then there’s the Blood Rite, which they’d also have to complete.”

Nesta shivered. “Could you have a female unit without them taking the Blood Rite?” “They would never be honored as true warriors without it—without one of those three titles. Well, I would consider them warriors, but not the rest of the Illyrians. No other units would fly with them. They’d consider it a disgrace and an insult.” She frowned and he held up his hands. “Like I said: change comes slowly.

“Training the Illyrian females,” Cassian went on, “wouldn’t be about fighting in our wars. It would be about proving they’re equally as capable and strong as the males. It would be about mastering their fear, honing the strength they already have.” “What do they fear?” “Becoming my mother,” he said softly. “Going through what she endured.”

Nesta smirked. “If we are to be Valkyries born again,” she said, “maybe we should combine the Illyrian and Valkyrie techniques.” She’d meant it in jest, but the words rumbled through the space, as if she’d spoken some great truth, something that made fate sit up. Azriel turned to them fully this time, eyes narrowed. Like those shadows had whispered something to him. -- “Something new,” he said more to himself than to them. “Something old becoming something new.”

“Eris gave him a mocking smile, but continued, “Unsurprisingly, the Illyrians were never curious enough to see what secrets lie beneath Ramiel. If it, too, was carved up like the others by ancient hands.”

With the Blood Rite mere months away, he'd said tensions were always high, but this year seemed particularly bad. New feuds popping up every few days, old grudges resurfacing [...].

Fear bloomed, so vast and broad he could barely breathe. It was a message—to the females for thinking themselves warriors, and to him for teaching them, for defying the Illyrians’ archaic hierarchies and rules.

Briallyn must have intercepted him then. Perhaps used the Crown to influence the Illyrians to break their sacred rules of the Rite, to plant the weapons here. But why?

“Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten.”

“I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two. No matter what may befall us. Not as Illyrians, not for their titles, but as something new. To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and restrictions.”

“So we climb Ramiel. We take the Breaking. We win to prove to everyone that something new can be as powerful and unbreakable as the old rules. That something no one has ever seen before, not entirely Valkyrie nor entirely Illyrian, can win the Blood Rite.”

“The Illyrians are going to be furious about our winning, you know. Especially because I have no intention of being called Carynthian. I’m content with being a Valkyrie.” “Oh, they’ll be in hysterics for decades,” Emerie agreed, grinning.

[...]had become utterly obnoxious about calling her mate any chance he got, except at their continuing morning training with the priestesses. Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn’t mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries.

Introduction of a new Illyrian character: Balthazar

#acosf #acosf spoilers #azriel #gwynriel #the valkyries

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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m going to be writing for it. this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies. After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.

Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

“EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment.

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

“I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

“Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

"I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!”

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something.

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

#shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x you #snk #aot

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lightrises · 4 years ago

Text

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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dinner-djarin · 3 years ago

Text

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader)

Chapter 2: A Valuable Friend

Summary: After surviving the Empires attack on Nevarro, you reluctantly go back to your monotonous life. But when the Mandalorian returns, you find yourself in a new position you never would have expected: his friend.

Warnings: Me making shit up about Mandalorian culture whoops, alcohol consumption & getting sick (reader gets drunk), some self-deprecation on the part of the reader, vague talks about having children, mature language (real life and starwars),

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: (more at the end for important note on one line in the fic)

Previous - Next

No. NO?!

How and why would you -

Did you really -

You really kriffed up that one.

Not only was that the single most embarrassing moment of your life, but you also just blew your first real chance at escaping this prison sentence of a planet.

Ever since you arrived on Nevarro you’ve wanted to leave. It was something of an accident, ever ending up here in the first place.

After the death of your mother, you were effectively an orphan, although old enough to care for yourself. In fact, you had already been caring for yourself and your sickly mother ever since your older sister left to fight in the rebellion. You always admired her bravery, her passion to do good in a galaxy that had treated her so poorly. You only wished you had half of her sense of purpose. So, when your mother finally passed, you decided you needed a change. You needed to find your purpose. You had nothing and no one to hold you back, so why not search for it in every remote corner of the newly liberated galaxy?

After gathering your dwindling stash of credits, you caught a ride to every backwater skughole you could find, just for a change of scenery. Along the way you learned that being a young – relatively attractive – humanoid had its fair share of advantages. It wasn’t long until you picked up certain…skill sets…to help you survive. But you didn’t get very far. You somehow ended up on Nevarro with little to no credits remaining. Meaning you were stuck in the same position you had been desperate to leave behind in the first place – broke and alone. You figured you could pick up a job to save up, but it barely paid enough to get by. You were stranded.

But suddenly the perfect opportunity to get away from it all had landed in your lap. In a moment you were granted the perfect opportunity to flee this hell hole and never look back. But in that same moment your incredible ability to self-sabotage just couldn’t be contained.

You had no kriffing clue why he would ask you – someone he barely knew – to join him on his new adventure, but nevertheless he did. Had you really proven yourself that trustworthy, or was he just able to see that you were evidently no threat to him? But why even ask you in the first place? How could he know of your deep desires to traverse the galaxy?

You were baffled. So much so that in that overwhelming moment your confused consciousness decided to betray you. What in the outer rim could possess you to say no. To travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian, The Mandalorian that you couldn’t get out of your head.

He said join him. But now you realize he probably just meant like for a little while, until their next stop. Right? But your flustered idiotic brain had to go and overthink it. In your panicked state you started to imagine what it would be like to travel with the Mandalorian and his child. To see the galaxy, as you always dreamed, at the side of a man who could protect you from anything. There would be no safer companion, but maybe that's just it. You’d been crushing on him so hard that being stuck in confined quarters with him might not be the best scenario. There’s no way you could force yourself to act normal for that long. And that must have been the thought racing through your head at light speed when you choked out the words you may now live to regret.

A week later you decide its probably time to get over him. Your crush over Mando has only caused you pain and put you in unbearably uncomfortable situations. You’d be much better off forgetting about him and moving on with your life. Besides, you don’t even really know him. You’ve probably spent a collective hour or so with him, maybe a bit longer if you add up all of the small conversations you held whenever he bought supplies from you.

It’s not even a real crush, just some lustful wishing. Do you secretly wish he’d take you out behind the cantina and fuck you into the next millennia? Yes. Would you let him do absolutely anything he wanted to you... probably? But is that very realistic? What is all of that really based on anyway? A suit of armour. His hypermasculine gait. The intensity behind his unflinching helmet. Nothing really about him. You don’t know his name, or his age. What he even looks like, but you bet it wouldn’t matter. No-

You need to stop those thoughts if you’re ever going to get past this. You. Do not. Know him. Therefore, there is no logical reason you should have any emotions invested in him. And that’s that. The plain and simple truth. It just doesn’t make any sense. So, you need to stop. Take control of your horny ass brain and stop thinking about him.

And just then – as if the Maker himself planned it – the Mandalorian walked by your booth. The sight of his broad shoulders almost erases all thoughts of letting go of your feelings. But just then you notice something. Something in the way he’s moving through the bazaar. It strikes you as odd, almost as if he were stalking prey. He’s hunting, you think. He scans over the area, but a little too erratically for someone of his status. You thought he’d be more elegant, sticking to the shadows until the right moment. Invisible. Deadly. However, here he is frantic. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was afraid.

You don't know how one of the most frightening beings in the galaxy can become a beacon of panic and worry, but there he was. Suddenly, he spots you and makes his way over in several large strides, making quick work to shorten the previously large gap between you.

“Have you seen him?” he barks forcefully.

“Who?” you ask, immediately catching the worriy in his tone.

“The child, my-”

“You lost your kid?!” Your worst suspicions confirmed before he even finishes his sentence.

“I didn’t - I thought he’d be safer with me than on the ship. I looked away for one second-” and then you hear it. His fear finally pried its way into his voice and cracked it. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he may be on the verge of tears.

“Hey it’s okay,” you place a hand just below his pauldron, grabbing his warm, thick bicep. If the situation had been different you might have let yourself think about the fact that only a slip of fabric separated you from him. That only millimetres below was a man of flesh and blood, not of cold hard metal. “I’ll help you find him,” his tension melting away slightly at your words and your touch, so you continue. “You take this side of the market and I'll look over there,” you insist, hoping that giving him some sort of tactical plan might spring him back into bounty hunter mode and away from panicked Dad.

“Thank you,” he stops, and stares at you. “I’m sorry I never asked…”

But you finish his thought, and finally tell him your name. You can’t believe after all that has happened, all the times he came to your vendor, your dumb ass never told him your name. But he nods and returns quickly to his search for the kid.

You turn on the spot and sweep the area with your gaze. In that moment you think back to when you were small. You loved to hide. You were amazing at it. So good, that your father once looked for you for over an hour and the only way to lure you out was with the promise of your favourite Alderaanian sweets. You use that memory and thought where you might have hidden. The market is buzzing and booming, much livelier now that the Imps were gone, and amongst all the chaos it would be natural for a child to feed off the wild energy. You begin peering under other merchant tables, behind walls and crates, when you stumble across a vase. Oddly out of place, but the perfect size for a little green monster to hide. You lean closer and hear a distinct coo as you tilt the lid back. Those giant black orbs staring back at you fill you with relief. You scoop up the child as you wonder how the hell he would have even got in there in the first place, never mind how he then placed the lid back on top.

You move quickly to find his flustered father, hoping to give him that same sense of relief you just experienced. When you do find him, he meets your gaze and moves quickly towards you. So quick it's unbelievable. One minute he was across the bazaar, the next he was scooping the baby up from your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again kid. You had me worried sick.” the child’s mischievous grin suddenly disappeared at this scolding and he became quiet in his father’s arms. “I better let Cara and Karga know. I was with them when he went missing and they also went looking for him.”

“Tell them to meet us in the cantina, I think you could use a drink… or at least a minute to unwind,” you silently curse yourself for being such an idiot. Offering a Mandalorian a drink might be the most oblivious and inconsiderate gesture you could make. In your shameful silence you watch Mando place the child in a floating orb. You recognize it as the same one that trailed him into town on the day everything went down.

“Don't you have to go back to work?” Mando questions, kindly skipping over your foolish comment.

“It was a slow day, and the sun is almost down, which means I’m almost off anyway. I don’t think my boss will miss me. But I mean, if you prefer to be alone I-”

“No, please come” He interrupts. “Without you I may have lost him for good.”

“I seriously doubt that Mando. I don’t know if you know this, but you are a bounty hunter.”

And then he chuckles. Like an actual laugh. Quick, quiet, and modulated, but still there. You think about memorizing the gorgeous sound, which also makes you wonder how often that happens. When was the last time he actually laughed? And what it would take to make him truly laugh? Loudly and unabashedly. You wonder what circumstance would allow him to fully let his walls down around you. How you would fall apart at the sound of his full tenor. Finally, you make a mental note to scold yourself later for these thoughts.

As the three of you make your way to the cantina you decidedly lag one step behind the Mandalorian, walking right next to the floating orb that contains the child, just to make sure the kid doesn’t pull anything before you can get there. You’re shocked at how Mando can be so trusting of this little menace so soon, letting the orb follow him without keeping an eye directly on the kid. It’s starting to make more sense how he might have gotten lost in the first place.

When you finally reach the cantina Cara and Karga are already set down at a table with possibly the largest bottle of spotchka you’ve ever seen sitting centre of the table. You take the seat next to Cara, while Mando places himself directly across from you, next to Karga.

“So, we have you to thank for the capture of this bounty huh?” Karga somewhat insensitively jests as he glances over to the child. In fact, you think you see Mando stiffen at these words. The last time you were all together was in service of protecting the child from the people who put a bounty on him in the first place.

“She’s truly a wonder.” Cara says in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean how’d you find the little bugger?”

“Truthfully? It sounds kind of odd, but I put myself in his position. I just thought about what I would have done when I was a child” You answer back to her, a little embarrassed at your confession. “I remembered how I liked to hide when I was that age. I figured he’d probably be wanting to have some fun. Of course, he couldn’t know that hiding in the middle of a crowd was only fun for him.” You continue as you look down into your hands, slightly lost in your thought, “Kids are often like that, giving us grief for their own enjoyment. But it really is a wonder. They seem to have an ability to find joy in the most desolate of places. They still see magic in the galaxy; they still believe in the impossible.” A subtle comfort fills your chest, and you smile as you remember your time spent with children back on your home planet. Time spent with your younger brother. You glance up at the child in his crib, “They have natural curiosity for the world around them. An endless hope for what the galaxy could be.” When you finish you look back to the group at the table, only to see the shared glances of amusement between Cara and Karga at your naïve outlook. You felt a little embarrassed at their reaction, but it didn’t last.

A droid disrupts the uncomfortable silence by approaching your table with 2 extra glasses, obviously unaware of the fact Mando would not be joining in the drinking. Good to know your common sense was on the level of a bartender droid.

You however were unsure of what to do. It wasn’t that you were necessarily opposed to the beverage now being offered to you by Karga, but this didn’t seem like the right time to indulge. You had probably already embarrassed yourself enough in front of this particular group for one night. So, when the child began to stir in his crib you took it as an opportunity to forgo the beverage and focus on him. With your arms reached out towards the child, you suddenly think to get the consent of his guardian. You look up at the Mandalorian and smile when you receive a silent nod from him. After grabbing the child and setting him in your lap, you hope that you had successfully removed yourself from the attention of the others.

“You like kids then?” Cara pries at your thoughts, trying to continue your previous chain of conversation.

“Well, I haven’t really been around them in a while, not since being home. There were always so many children in my village, and they were always so filled with wonder. It made me see the world a little brighter.” You finish, hoping the conversation ends there.

“Ever think you’ll have your own?” She continues, obviously seeing the gleam in your eye as you speak.

You laugh at this question but honestly you hadn’t really thought of it. You’ve never been able to picture a future like that. Husband. Kids. Home. It had been too long since you had any feeling of security to hope for that type of life. You'd pretty much spent more of your life alone than with your family, to the point where you don't even know what it’s really supposed to look like.

When you don’t give her an answer past laughter, Cara switches her attention to the Mandalorian, “How ‘bout you Mando, ever thought you’d end up with a kid of your own?” and you turn back to the baby, hoping that you had finally left the center of the conversation.

It seems to work as you overhear the members of your table switch their topic to the criminals that still plague Nevarro, and the recent advances ‘Marshall Dune’ has made in her efforts to clean the town.

Tuning them out, you begin to play with the child, making faces and babbling along to his adorable coos. The child becomes fascinated by the idea of hiding your face behind your hands, only to suddenly reappear seconds later, and he tries to pry your hands away every time. After popping your face out for the tenth time the child begins to reach for your face again, but this time grabbing your nose, and you can’t help but giggle at his precious three-fingered grip. However, when his tiny hand slips to your cheek, a sudden wave of emotions rips over you, and you feel overwhelmed by a grief you haven’t felt in years. Your eyes tear up, and you remember flashes of a memory you’ve worked hard to repress. Standing in a dark closet huddling tight to your brother and sister. Then, the loudest sound you’ve ever heard fills your ears and-

“Kid!” Mando bellows and removes the child from your grip. You turn away from the table and look up at the Mandalorian, cheeks drenched by your tears and barely able to breathe. He sets the child in his pram, and crouches in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay just breathe, slowly, breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he reminds you, holding your knees. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath, but in those moments, you stare through the visor, past your own reflection, and focus on the eyes that you knew were staring back at you.

“What… was that” You finally manage to choke out.

“The kid, he must have done something to you. He’s got these powers-”

“He made me remember?” You blurt in disbelief.

“Umm, I’m not sure. Maybe. The people he belongs to, the Jedi, they are sorcerers.”

“So, whatever he just did to me… that’s what that woman, the other Mandalorian, was talking about?” You ask.

“Yes, whatever he just did, and more,” Mando adds

“More than that?”

“So far, a lot more.”

You finally snap back to reality, remembering that there are other people present, so you turn to give them a reassuring nod.

“How ‘bout that drink?” Karga asks in an attempt to lighten the mood, and you shoot back the beverage quickly, attempting to wipe the resurfaced memory from existence.

After the first round of spotchka had been downed, Cara and Karga made their way to the bar for more drinks, leaving you and the Mandalorian alone.

“So… you’re stuck with him, huh?” you ask, feeling quite light-headed from the drinks, any filter you previously possessed had now dissipated.

“Well, I wouldn’t say stuck,” Mando states sitting up straight.

“You don’t think you bit off a little more than you can chew? He seems like quite the handful.”

“He’s a good kid.” Mando snaps shortly, making you finally realize he has become defensive from your words.

“Oh. No, I just meant, kids are already a lot of work, I can’t imagine the magic powers make it any easier,” you joke, trying to diffuse your mistake with a small chuckle.

“No, I can’t say they do. Although without him or his powers I’d be dead.” Mando says blankly, as if his words were common knowledge to you.

“Wait, what?” You ask in shock, wondering if in your current state you forgot about some lifesaving event that took place previously.

“Yah, so would Karga.” He glances over at the pair at the bar, and you follow with your eyes. “Saved me from a mudhorn the first day we met. Healed the poison in Karga’s arm when he was attacked by a reptavian.”

“Wow,” you say quietly to yourself, “Look at you go kid. You’re pretty dang special.” You say towards the child, sticking your tongue out and successfully getting the kid to giggle at you.

“Yah he is.” The Mandalorian says quietly, almost a whisper to himself, and with a lightness that makes it sound like he might be smiling.

“So, will you raise him to be Mandalorian as well?” You wonder aloud, taking a swig from your drink, as if you needed to increase your level of inebriation.

“Not necessarily. Although I’ve adopted him as my founding, he belongs with the sorcerer group called the Jedi. My goal is to reunite him with them, but until then, technically yes.”

“Does that mean anyone can be Mandalorian, if they get adopted by one?”

“Yes. But they may not need to be adopted. If someone was old enough, they could simply train under another Mandalorian, and then swear an oath to the Creed once that training is done.” And although you want to know more about how he grew up, some grain of restraint is planted in your brain, thankfully stopping you from prying into his private life. Instead, your interest in the Creed is piqued, and you decide to follow that train of thought instead.

“And is that a difficult process then? I mean, not just anyone would be able to pass it, right?” And even though warning signs were flashing in your brain, telling you not to risk disrespecting the secrecy of the Creed, the Mandalorian responds. He continues to tell you intimate details of his training process, specifically towards the fighting corps, including how his adoptive siblings and he were forced to spar with each other, often walking away with several harsh wounds. He tells you about how he studied the language as much as he could, as it was rarely used, but still sacred among his people. How he had an affinity for languages, and how he specifically enjoyed the simplicity and poetic nature of Mando’a. He tells you of grueling trials, times where he thought he wasn’t going to make it. But he also explains how his low moments lead him to find the strength to persevere.

The whole time he spoke, you stared at him with glimmering eyes. You hung onto every word. Even through the modulator you could hear the care and restrained excitement in his voice,. You could tell just how important this culture was to him, how he cared deeply for the history and sanctity of his people and Creed. And as he spoke with such tenderness, you felt yourself become entranced with his words. As he detailed the responsibilities and dedication to his covert - how important his training had been - you felt something within your heart, a longing sentimentality. His words describing a life you wish you had known. A sense of purpose and duty. A greater cause to fight for. A chosen family with a common mindset. A place in the galaxy.

These were things you had dreamed about for your entire existence. Every day that passed felt meaningless and draining, knowing that you were doing nothing of importance. The life Mando described to you sounded like heaven. The idea of having something to fight for filled your entire body with electricity. You couldn’t help but stare at him with wonder as he detailed to you a life you had always wanted.

“Dank ferric.” He grumbles. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said all that.” Mando says, snapping back from the trance he had found himself in.

“Oh gods, no that’s my fault I shouldn’t have pried.” You try to apologize. “I’ll forget everything you said.” Although you don’t truly know if you had a choice. You think you might never be free from the wishful idea of belonging that had latched onto something deep within you.

“Oh, I don’t mean that I shouldn’t have told you. I trust you won’t do any harm with that information.” He says with a nod towards you and you can’t help but blush at his compliment. Being trusted by Mando might be the highest honour he could give. “I just shouldn’t have gone on so long. I apologize for taking up your time.”

“Mando, you don’t have to apologize for speaking.” You joke, although simultaneoausly noticing the way Mando had stiffened at your words, you continue, “At least not to me,” you say reaching out across the table to grab the Mandalorians hand, a gesture that your sober self would never have had the courage to do. “You obviously care about your heritage, and rightfully so. It sounds magnificent. You should be able to be proud of it.”

“I don’t usually have that privilege. Many people would take advantage of such knowledge.”

“Well, you deserve to have the freedom to talk about something you care about,” you say as you bring your other hand across the table and give a caring squeeze to his hand, “And I swear, the only exploitation you’ll get from me is my claim to babysit your little womp rat whenever you come to town.” you say retracting your hands away from Mando and instead making grabby hands toward the child.

“Well, I don’t know anyone better suited to the job. It would be unwise to deny you that wish, especially now that you have intel on me.”

“Was that a joke, and a complement? From a Mandalorian?” you scoff, “Wow. I never thought I’d live to see it.”

“Does that mean I have to kill you now?” he shifts to the edge of his seat and leans towards you.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, bucket head.” you tease, knowing full well he could kill you in an instant without even trying. Regardless, you shift forward and cross your arms on the table, challenging him with the mirrored motion.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, your mouth creeping into a mischievous smile. You wonder what might be going through his mind, as all you can think about is the idea of him pinning you to the ground in a millisecond, and just when you think he will break, a voice brings your attention away.

“I think we gotta call it,” Cara says, a little too loudly for her close proximity to your ear. You wince at the intrusion, cursing the fact that you won't get to know how your challenge ended.

“I should be on my way then” the Mandalorian states, “Although I’m still missing some supplies-”

“Lemme grab them for you.” You insist, “I can meet you back at your ship in 30 minutes. Got a list?”

The Mandalorian lists off a handful of items, and you instantly know you have them all in stock. You give him a nod and stand from your booth. “See you in a few.” You say with a wink that you instantly regret the minute you turn your back.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” You question Mando as you approach him with the crateful of supplies he requested.

“Not really sure. If I get any leads on the Jedi, I have to follow them up. Of course, Nevarro is always a safe place to refuel and restock.”

“So, you’ll be back as long as you need shit from me?” you startle yourself with your choice of language, remembering the several shots of spotchka you just downed and how your tongue might be a little looser.

“Not just you.” The Mandalorian states rather quickly, in a tone you’d almost label as flustered. “I can’t get fuel from you,” he continues much more coolly.

“Mhhhm, right. That is true. But no other reason.”

“Another reason for what?”

“For you to come back. Here. I mean you’ve got friends here-”

“I don’t really have friends.”

“Well, that mighta hurt my feelings if I knew you a bit better, but I’m certain Cara and Karga would feel a bit under appreciated. Especially after everything that happened…” You trail off.

“They are much more business partners then friends,” you squint your eyes and raise your brow at him with those words, making him corrects himself, “But sure. If you want to classify them as friends, then yes.”

After a brief silence you somewhat bravely somewhat stupidly ask, “And me?” Eyes wide and hopeful, sober-you would be ashamed. Taking a step towards him you muster up even more courage, “Would I be classified as a friend too?”

“Yes. A valuable one,” He states stepping towards you as well, “One who could teach me something about caring for a child.”

“Oh, no. I know nothing about that. I guess I’m just good at relating to them. Maybe I’m still young at heart” you tease. Something about the Mandalorian tells you he’s got a lot of years behind him, a lot of...experience. You don’t have much evidence to back it up, more of a vibe really.

After another small silence the Mandalorian speaks. “I guess it’s nice to have friendly faces around, for the child's sake. Perhaps I should make it a habit to return until he’s been united with his people”

“And what about you? You don’t go crazy having no one to talk to but the kid?”

“Not much of a talker”

“Except for tonight.”

“Fair.” He bluntly states. “It doesn’t seem too difficult to get information out of you”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You seem to like to talk, is all”

“Well, it’s been a while since I've been in good company. To be honest I think I talked more tonight than in the past several years''

“I can agree with that.”

“We make a good pair then. Two people who don’t talk yet can’t shut up around each other” And at this point you don’t even know what you’re saying. The proximity to the Mandalorian and the alcohol in your blood are mixing at a dangerous level, making you blurt out things you’re sure you’d never have the courage to say.

In the silence that followed, you are eager to find something to fill it. You think back to how he talked of his upbringing, the joy you felt in his voice. It reminded you of the last time you could remember feeling that way.

“You know, the way you spoke of sparing with your siblings, it reminded me of my childhood.” You say, eager to find something to fill the silence. Normally you don’t mind quiet but drunk you has decided otherwise. “When I was very young my siblings and I would fight constantly, always in good nature of course. We wanted to win the affection of our parents, although they would have loved us either way. But they would cheer us on. They always encouraged our fighting, telling us we would be stronger for it when we were grown.

“When they watched us, they looked so in love, so proud. My mother would turn to my father and say ‘we raised warriors’. It was like they knew things would turn bad. I mean of course there were wars, and the Empire was a constant threat, but somehow, they were always prepared for the worst. Like they were ready for a fight that might never come.”

The Mandalorian stood silently, and it seemed your attempt to relate to him failed spectacularly. However, for a moment, you thought you caught the subtle tilt of his visor. Like he was examining you, maybe unsure of what to make of your lengthy anecdote.

“That does resemble my upbringing.” He spoke softly, finally filling the conversational void. “Quite a lot, actually.” But then silence returned. A buzzing filled your ears from the complete lack of auditory stimulation. You felt yourself becoming unsteady, like the force of the silence was pushing you off balance. You now realized the total effects of your inebriation were hitting you. “Were you-” but before Mando could finish his thought, your stomach forced its contents out violently, and you were lucky enough to find the sense to turn away from him, and rush towards a near alleyway, just in time.

As your body rid itself of the liquid poison, you couldn’t help but let multiple tears spill out of your eyes, unsure if it was from the force of the projectile, or the complete embarrassment.

“Oh, dear gods,” you finally croak as you regain your bearings on the spinning world around you. “I am so sorry, Mando. That was so kriffing embarrassing.” You try to cover your face, as you sweep your tears from your cheeks. But Mando already made his way over to you, crouching to meet you on the ground, grabbing your hands in his and placing a canteen in them instead.

“Drink. It’ll help.” He says in a soft hushed tone. You aren’t even sure where he got the canteen from, maybe it just happened to be near at the time, or he went back up to the ship in the time you were hurling… “Drink.” He repeats, interrupting your train of thought.

You unflask it with shaky hands and take a large swig, immediately feeling some relief from the burning sensation in your throat. “You need food as well.” He adds simply, grabbing your arms and heaving your dead weight off the ground as if it were nothing to him. After helping back to standing position, he turned toward his ship and made his way to the ramp. Before ascending, he turned back to you and finished his original thought, “Let’s see what rations you gathered for me. Come on.”

So, you make your way over to the ship, which is a task in itself as your legs felt as though they might give out at any moment.

“Wow,” you say in astonishment. You’d never seen a true cruiser like this. Any inter-planet hopper you’d taken to make your way to Nevarro had always been either completely basic and Imperial made, or a complete hunk of junk. And although you had nothing really to base it on, this ship was leagues ahead of anything you had experienced before. To think he got to spend all his time travelling the galaxy in a ship like this, all on his own. That was true adventure.

And you knew from the carbon scoring on the exterior that he had actually seen it. Excitement, danger, freedom. But the inside of this ship told a more complex story. You think that before it would have been simple. A weapons locker, a tiny sleeping quarter, a refresher, and not much else. The bare necessities for a man always in motion. No home. No attachments. But what you figured must have been new additions showed glimpses of a different man. A tiny hammock over the sleeping area, a small padded seat lifted to meet the height of a protruding shelf that almost resembled a dinner table, and what looked like makeshift toys strewn across the hull. All signs of another lifeform making itself comfortable on his ship and in his life.

“Here.” the Mandalorian grunted, breaking you from your daze, as he held out a ration stick to you. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I don’t feel as… vomitty, as before.” You start, now staring at the man in front of you, right where you figure - where you’re almost certain - his eyes are meeting yours. You think of his willingness to take care of you, twice tonight. Nothing added up. He was a complete mystery. Just when you thought you had him pinned, everything was suddenly flipped.

“That’s good, you just look a little out-of-it.” He said as he placed a hand on your shoulder, probably trying to steady you from whatever state you were in.

“Oh no, I’m just admiring the place.” You say, breaking eye contact to scan over the area again, taking in new details as you did so.

“Ha ha.” he says dryly, retracting his hand from you.

“No, I’m serious,” you reply sternly, offended that he would think so little of his own ship. “I’ve never seen anything like this, except for maybe in my dreams. I can’t imagine getting to fly in this every day. Or, oh maker! You get to see the stars in hyperspace, that was my favourite part! I only got to travel through hyperspace once. And, dank ferric, it was spectacular. Every other damn transport was sublight, not fun. Very slow, but generally cheaper, I guess. I’d kill to get to see that again” You could feel the excitement within you reach your face. A giant grin bursting out of you when you could no longer contain the joy within.

“Where were you travelling?” He questioned after examining your elation, and you could hear the genuine nature of his question, like he actually cared. Most people had never taken this much interest in your past.

“Oh, really anywhere I could. I just wanted to get away from, well, everything. My family, the war, my whole life. I tried to start over, but I didn’t get very far. Got stranded here, and I could never find the means to continue my journey.”

“Your journey?” He prompted, trying his best to stifle the laugh that followed.

“Yah okay that sounds a little ridiculous, but really I was just trying to find some excitement, something different. Just trying to find… something. It sounds dumb, I know, but I was so sick of my life, so when I had the opportunity to go, I went. I went everywhere I could afford, until I could barely afford food. So, I worked at that vendor for scraps until I saved enough to keep going, but I guess I never saved enough.”

“So, you’re still looking?’

“Huh?”

“You said you were looking to find something, but it doesn’t sound like you found it.”

“No. I haven’t. Not that I even know what I was looking for. But it seemed like one of those ‘you’ll know when you know’ things”

“Well, what if someone could take you away from Nevarro?” he questioned.

“Wouldn’t happen. I’ve got barely enough credits to buy bantha crap.”

“What if that person didn’t need credits, just company.”

The statement threw you. Suddenly you weren’t sure what Mando truly knew about your reputation. “Uhhh what kinda company, because I really don’t-”

“A friend.” He paused, making you wonder why he would propose such an idea, “A valuable one.”

And only then did the wires connect in your still-woozy brain. He was asking you to join him. Again. But this time as a friend. Someone he knew and trusted. Someone who he felt comfortable enough with to talk about his Creed with. And suddenly your heart stopped beating.

You could not – for the love of the Maker – mess this up again. But maybe you should make sure.

“Me?” you say while lazily pointing towards yourself for further clarification. “Mando are you asking me to join you two?”

“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.” He says before making his way back out of the hull to finish packing the remnants of the supplies, apparently making the decision for you, as you definitely gave no answer. But it was the answer you wanted. A way out. An escape. And for kriffing sake, free.

As you stood, dumbstruck and alone, in the hull, you wondered just what it might be like. Getting to see some danger up close and personal. To see treacherous planets one week, then beautiful landscapes the next.

When Mando returned to the hull with the last of the supplies, only two words could escape your mouth, quieter and softer than you may have ever spoken before. “Thank you.”

Chapter 3

☆ I appreciate every like and comment so much, thank you all! And if you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know ☆

Taglist: @peppywitch @tobealostwanderer @thecraftyartist @ajeff855 @greatcircle79

Notes: In this chapter I say that the reader is “relatively attractive”. I’m not trying to single anyone out here or make you feel like you can’t be the reader if you don’t view yourself as attractive (because we are all fucking gorgeous anyway fuck societal norms). What I really mean to say is that like being a human looking person makes the reader more attractive than some alien-being might be (like weird alien species that would make up the general population of the more ‘outer rim’ planets she might be on). I was just trying to emphasize that she would be viewed as rare since young female humans wouldn’t normally populate those types of planets. Also, because the reader being female and kinda youngish will play a role later as I kinda touch on the dangers of the bounty hunter life and how the reader needs to navigate it.

#mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #fem reader #mando fluff #Star Wars fanfiction

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buckyjamess-archive · 4 years ago

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chocolate chips & babies

a/n: hello @onceuponadetectivedemigod I'm your secret Santa for the Get down give joy event! This is my first time participating in such thing. I absolutely loved the things you requested & this is where I ended up, I hope you enjoy it! also, sorry for not sending so much anons; I didn't know what to ask :')

pairings: ben hardy x reader

warnings: fluff town baby, call your dentist in advance. Dad!ben needs a warning on its own.

wordcount: 1.4k+

summery; Christmas with the Jones' is never the same.

"Daddy, this one has Santa in it."

Ben looks down at his daughter, Emily, shaking another snow globe in her purple gloved hands. Blonde hair flowing from underneath her purple hat. Rosy cheeks and the tip of her nose red.

"No, you're joking?"

Kneeling down to his daughter's height, he catches the globe from her tiny hands and examines it closely. How the snow floats around Santa, the Christmas tree and the tiny snowman.

"It sure is Santa," Ben smiles at his daughter "we need to find mum and your brother, okay?"

Emily nods her head and watches how her dad sets the snowglobe back on the shelf, amongst all others she enjoyed. Ben gets back on his feet and reaches for her hands, which wraps around his finger.

Making their way out of the little corner store and out on the cold streets of London, Ben finds himself and his daughter in a mob of people.

People desperately trying to find that one last, perfect gift for under the tree. People trying to get the last turkey from the store a few blocks down. People arguing. People yelling--

Oh the joys of Christmas.

"C'mon, sweetheart."

In a swift move, Ben raises Emily off the ground and holds her tight against his side. Her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Where's mummy?"

"I don't know," ben mumbles, subtly pushing past the group of arguing women "but we'll find her."

"We have too," Emily states as a matter of fact "we were going to bake cookies."

"Yeah, did mum promise you that?" Ben asked curiously.

Emily nods her head "with hot chocolate."

It can't be hard to find you, right? A woman he came to love so dearly, walking around with his son, his carbon copy, sporting a seven month baby bump under a layer of clothes..not that difficult, if the streets weren't packed as if every store decides to give things away for free.

Christmas with the jones..never the same.

"Maybe Santa can give me the snow globe."

"Maybe he will sweetheart."

You push the stroller back and forth in the hopes to make your over emotional toddler sleepy and though he's dozed off minutes ago, you can't be too sure and stop it.

Noah his rosy, chubby cheeks are squished as his head rests against the metal of the stroller. Quiffs of blonde peeking from under his red and blue, fireman Sam hat. Clutching onto a stuffed rabbit he'd gotten from his big sister.

You rub over your still and seemingly never growing bump when little miss Jones causes a ruckus. Honestly, you're still surprised she hasn't broken any of your ribs or caused any internal bleeding,

something you'd not had experienced yet, Emily and Noah were the easiest babies you'd seen among your friends, just like their dad, not only in looks but in manners but something tells you this little babe is going to be your carbon copy.

Sitting down on the stone bench, your feet ache. A sigh leaving your lips when your son starts to shift in his stroller the second you stop moving it.

Home, that's all you want at this moment. Gather your little family, walk home and heat up with some hot chocolate underneath the Christmas tree while watching a movie. Underneath a thick fluffy blanket preferably.

Only if you didn't lose your husband in the madness called the great Christmas depression. Maybe it was a bad idea to do some Christmas shopping last minute after all.

The cold England weather sends a shiver down your spine and you tuck the blanket further up Noah's body, carefully to not wake him up.

The familiar sound of the voices belonging to those of your husband and daughter catches your attention. You stand up, looking around the bush streets and it takes a while before you spot the two blondies.

You wave in the hopes they see you and they do as Emily points into your direction.

"It's a madhouse." Ben grumbles when he reaches you "lets head back home."

"Gladly." You mumble back.

The walk home isn't long. You've rarely left the block. You've walked this route a hundred times, ten minutes at last but with the ache in your feet and back, it made it look like hours but with Emily pushing the stroller, it gave Ben the opportunity to snake his arm around your back, helping you to find some sort of relief.

"This is the last kid, Jones." You complain "unless you're planning to carry them."

"Don't think I'm able to be such an amazing human being," ben chuckles "I'm just a man."

"This one better look like me."

You watch Emily, carefully pushing the stroller with her little brother around. Nearly reaching the handles, even on her tiny toes but peeking around it to make sure to go straight.

Both carbon copies of their daughter.

"I'm sorry love, can't help it. My genes are stronger."

"Mate, calm down." Ben laughs when he pulls his son hand away from the batch of cookie batter "when's the last time we fed you."

You're seated at the breakfast bar, nursing a hot chocolate, like you imagined minutes ago.

Emily stands tall on her step, flour covering nearly every inch of her body, rolling batter into small balls, licking her fingers clean once in a while.

Noah on his knees on the kitchen counter, anything edible disappearing into his mouth whenever he can get his hands on it.

Ben stands behind him, able to pull his son back whenever it's needed. Hand gripping the back of Noah's shirt.

"Grandma says you get sick from eating it." Emily says, looking back from Ben to you and back "chickens will grow in your stomach because the eggs are raw."

"Did she?" Ben raises his brow as he looks at his daughter, mouthing a 'What the hell?' In your direction

"Is it true?"

"No honey, grandma is crazy." You say "You can get sick from it, so don't eat too much."

"Do you want some?"

She holds out a ball of dough in your direction. A smile reaching her ears, showing off her pearly whites

"No, the baby doesn't like it." You refuse but give her the same warm smile she's giving you.

She turns back to her dad, holding out the same piece but when Ben refuses it too, she sets it in the tray in front of her, pushing it down with her hands.

"I will make cookies for all of you!" Emily cheers "even for Santa!"

"That's a good idea love," Ben smiles, "Maybe he'll get you that snow globe."

"Yes!"

The two of you share a smile but it falters fast when Noah gets a hold of the bag of chocolate chips, nearly stuffing his mouth with a hand full.

"Mate, you need to calm down." Ben states "he's got that from you."

"As if you didn't eat my last candy bar, Jones."

"Go easy on your mum or you'll be the last one."

You roll your eyes at Ben, his face close to your bump. The lights of the Christmas tree and the fairy lights illuminating the features on his face.

With the two rascals all tucked in and sound asleep, it's just you, Ben and the little bean. A moment you'll forever cherish, a moment that rarely happened.

"So, if you want a brother or sister-"

"Ben, please," you chuckle "I don't want to think about another kid right now. She's not even born yet."

Ben sits back up right and rests his feet on the coffee table, laying his arm on the couch behind you "What about a football team?"

"I'll personally give you a vasectomy."

"I'm joking." Ben throws his head back, nearly causing a whiplash as he lets out a laugh

"I'm not tough." You smirk at him "I love you but I'm not going to care a football team, find yourself another wife if you have too."

"I would never."

Ben kisses your temple and places his hand back on your stomach and if on queue, the little bean kicks up against his hand.

"Already a daddys princess." Ben jokes "three girls to fight for my attention."

You raise your brows and fake a smile "Oh, I'll always fight for your attention."

"These mood swings really getting to you this time, huh?" Ben chuckles "Where's the Christmas spirit?"

You huff and lean back on the couch, throwing your legs in Ben's lap. Without thinking, Ben reaches for them, massaging away the ache in them.

"We've to make sure we feed these kids," Ben says "look at our poor son."

Tough it's a little hectic and a bit chaotic and, ben wouldn't want his family to be any different.

#getdowngivejoy #get down give joy #hope you like it!#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy imagine #Ben hardy

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maysbanks · 4 years ago

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hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

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mollyhw14 · 3 years ago

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Fallen Angel : Tied to the Devil's Daughter (demon au Lee Donghyuk / Haechan ) ♛ CH2♛

Seraphina was beyond livid.

She'd come to the dance studio to let off steam but it felt like the complete opposite. Putting on some music, she decided to let loose and see if dancing would at least loosen her temper a little bit.

Stretching to warm up, she slowly began to let her body flow with the rhythm, eventually flowing into the choreography she'd been practicing for the last week. Flawlessly, she completed every step, finishing with a grande jete and her final pose. Once the music stopped she collapsed to the floor, sweating but feeling more alive from the buzz of the dance. Prying herself from the floor, she heard distant clapping from the door way making her whip her head round fast to see who had interrupted her alone time.

Phina was definitely not impressed to see the boy she had glared at previously before for taking over her time slot.

"Wow princess didn't know you were quite the ballet dancer. I must say, doesn't really fit your temper like but you got some moves." His voice was almost teasing-like and this irritated Seraphina a lot. Getting annoyed by his presence, she scowled at him, waiting for his explanation as to why he was even there. Not getting an answer she took matters into her own hands.

"So you gonna tell me why the fuck you're here or am I gonna have to slap some sense in to you?"

He chuckled at her tone, she sounded pissed and it only amused him.

"Now now, sunshine, that's no way to speak to people is it?" He made sure to drag out the word sunshine just to piss her off even more.

"You call me that again and I'll snap your fucking neck!" She'd moved to grab her phone, getting angrier the more she was in his presence.

"Feisty one aren't you? Princess, as much as I'd love to break your neck too, don't think it would go down to well with the police now would it?" His condescending tone irritated her and she stormed out, barging past his tall ass to find her next class.

"By the way, I came to take over my time slot, not that I didn't mind you staring at me Sunshine," he shouted from behind her.

'Staring? Fucking idiot, he's obviously blind to not see I was trying to burn him with my eyes' she thought to herself as she slowed down once entering her classroom.

Maths was Seraphina's most hated class. It wasn't because she wasn't good at it, if anything she was top of the class. However, she unfortunately had to share this class with the demons in the year above. Three of them being the dicktrio who thought they ran the school. Their dumbasses had dropped a grade and now she had to have this class with them. Not only that, her teacher was a demon too, favouring them more amongst the humans within the class, no matter how dumb they were. Phina often wondered to herself if there was many more teachers who were also demons, and they just kept to their human form?

Waiting for the teacher to come, she glanced around, trying to not make contact with the black orbs that almost laughed at her from across the room. The demons giggled to themselves, knowing how much humans hated eye contact with them, believing they would die from a single look. However this wasn't the case for Phina, she was introverted, and this was why she hated eye contact. She didn't give one shit if this girl was a demon, she just knew the moment they shared eye contact, she wouldn't hear the end of it.

"How's my favourite person!" Phina heard the angelic voice of her friend, before being engulfed by a pair of arms.

"Cheonie, you're strangling me!" Phina managed to choke out before her best friend finally sat in the seat next to her.

"Can I not be happy to see my best friend? Have you calmed down yet?"

Before Phina could reply, she heard the high pitch voice shout out from the other side of the room.

"Shut up Chansa, you might as well be an Angel you're that fucking annoying!"

Hurt flashed across her friends face and Seraphina saw red. How dare she insult her best friend.

"First of all her name is CHEONSA, get it right bitch! Maybe mind your own fucking god damn business before insulting my friend. At least she has a heart unlike you whores."

She glared straight into the black pits of hell, and everyone around them muted. All shocked that not only had she stuck up to the three dicktrio demons, but also because she actually looked them straight in the eye.

Shock was evident on the demons’ faces, but was gone as quick as it came.

"Did you just call us whores?"

"Yes and what the fuck are you going to do about it?"

"You're dead human bitch-"

Just as the girl was about the pounce at Phina, the door swung open to reveal both the teacher and the person she hated just as much as the dicktrio. Lee Haechan.

"What are you doing Seraphina! Get in your seat right this instant and don't utter a single word for the rest of class." Black orbs glowed from the door way at her, stopping the demon in her tracks.

Seraphina was beyond mad. Not only had she been humiliated by the teacher, but that the demons always got their own way. The smirk on their faces showing everyone who had the higher ground.

"Utter bullshit" she mumbled to herself, Cheonsa gave her a reassuring smile.

"Right class we have a new student joining us, Lee Haechan. Make him feel welcome and please, no funny business. Haechan please take a seat next to Seraphina."

Could Phina's day get any worse? Banging her head on her desk, she heard a low chuckle followed by, "You really are a badass aren't you Sunshine? Going against a demon you're definitely asking for a death wish."

Oh how she wished she was dead.

The bell rang signally the end of the day, and nobody was more exciting to be leaving school that Seraphina. The ringing of the bell actually made her smile for the first time that day, as she skipped down the stairs to go meet her best friend outside.

Finding Cheonsa under the school's apple tree, they linked arms before heading off the their usual cafe down the road.

"Why don't you ask Mark if he wants to join us, you said he's been stressed out with exams recently he'll need a break." Cheonsa looked at her friend for an answer, watching as she frowned at the mention of her brother.

"I know, he really stresses himself out too much, mums had to put a lock on the fridge because he's been stress eating."

Mark was Seraphina's older brother, who never let her forget that he was the older ones. He was doing his finally exams to get himself into college, and the boy literally stressed himself out so much over it, he would lash out at anybody who distracted him.

"Do you think he'll be calm enough to even talk to me on the phone?"

Cheonsa hesitated,

"He should be done with them soon, he'd probably appreciate his sister inviting him out."

With that said, Phina brought the phone to her ear to call her brother, entering the all too familiar cafe.

"Yah what do you want I'm busy Phi!"

Phina closed her eyes at the loudness of his voice, knowing her brother would react this way she sighed.

"Never mind. I was going to ask if you'd like to come hang out with us at the cafe but if you're busy just leave it." She snapped at him down the phone, her temper getting the better of her.

"No wait!" the voice on the other side made her jump. He really needed to stop shouting.

"I'll come, I'm sorry for shouting I need a break these exams are driving me fucking insane." His voice was more softer this time, regretting the way he'd spoke to his sister. After all, she was just trying to be nice.

"I'll see you in 5."

Just as the phone line went dead, Cheonsa was walking over with two cups in her hand.

"You know me to well Cheonsie, a peppermint hot chocolate is always the way to my heart."

They both chuckled and sat in their usual spot, before Phia decided to fill her friend in on the new kid.

"Honestly you should've seen him Cheonsa, he thought he was fucking amazing, interrupting my dance slot-"

"Hello to my favourite sibling!" Her brother practically screamed from across the cafe, interrupting her rant.

"Mark I'm your only sibling."

"I know that but still... anyway I brought Renjun because he was with me when you called." Renjun stuck his head out from behind Mark, waving at the two girls.

"Hey Rejun, how've you been?" Cheonsa beamed up at the blonde, eyes never leaving the male.

"I've been good thank you, just trying to finish my portfolio for art."

Phina almost gagged at the way her friend was making heart eyes at the man. She pulled Mark into the booth they were sat at, earning a glare from her friend at their chosen seating arrangement.

"I like your new hair Renjun, have you dyed it?" Cheonsa's attention was back onto the male, swooning at the way he blushed that she'd noticed his hair.

"Yeah I just fancied a change. Do you think it looks okay-"

He was about the finish his sentence when the sudden buzz of his phone interrupted him. Confused, he put the phone to his ear, quizzing the caller.

"What's wrong? Are they being bad again?- Well I don't know....I can ask wait a sec-"

"Hey Cheonsa is it okay if my friend joins us?"

His eyes were pleading at her to let his friend come, and Phina wondered why he would even be pleading when he knew fair well that Cheonsa would agree to anything he said.

"Of course, anything for you." Cheonsa giggled, causing Phina to fake gag, and earning a chuckle from her brother and death glare from her friend.

After getting off the phone, Renjun announced his friend was round the corner and would go and grab him a drink from the counter, asking if anybody else wanting one too.

As he neared the counter, her friend sighed, love evident on her face.

"He's just so charming isn't he?" She sighed again, looking towards the boy she had a huge crush on.

"Yeh he's alright I guess-"

"Oh hey Sunshine, didn't know I'd be seeing you here."

Phina's eyes nearly popped out their sockets at the high pitched voice she could recognise anywhere.

Why did her day just keep getting worse.

#Haechan #nct #lee hacehan #lee donghyuck #donghyuck au #nct dream donghyuck #donghyuck fanfic #nct donghyuck #demons #demon au #angels and demons #fallen angel #Mark #mark lee #renjun #huang renjun

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sirro85-blog · 5 years ago

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Dark Horses 6

So, what are the Xhost? Now, so long after they have left the stars it's a question that can be asked.

The Xhost were an idea that became a cult, if humans are more durable and Rhul are faster and Biviladi are more adaptable to environmental changes what if instead of celebrating the diversity we examined the discrepancies and found a common ground?

A noble thought, corrupted, corrupted into the Xhost where races were genetically modified to be a bit of everything, differences were no longer celebrated as part of a more fantastic whole but instead were vilified as non-conforming.

To the Xhost purity was required, variation was the enemy.

Kovac sat against the wall looking at his friends, Wolf shook his head and turned to Dorman for support.

"No," said Kovac, " you both have opinions and you're both entitled to them, but you're wrong.

It's as simple as this. Iron man is the greatest superhero, all those with superpowers built in can fuck right off, if your solution to a problem is punching harder then you're not a solution. Iron man's super power is thinking better than all of the others, he figures stuff out, after that his inventions win fights. All the other smart guys either have powers or their limited, I mean Batman isn't a one man army. Reed Richards works stuff out then relies on being Mr Fantastic to solve the problem.

Also Tony fights butt naked and the rest don't."

Kovac looked at his friends and smiled at their faces, "look it's this simple, your mind, the human mind is the greatest weapon in the galaxy. Now the second lesson I have to teach you is this simple, no matter what your taste in music one song needs special attention."

"We Will Rick You, by Queen will be remembered as a Pride song but it shouldn't be. What really matters is the solo or fade out; that piece of guitar play by May...everything else is just delivery for that.

Finally, if you're not happy, watching bad television at 0400 with you're partner then you're relationship won't last, if their presence doesn't bring you joy then move on.

Right that's about it, that's my life time knowledge, guess we should see this out then." Kovac stood.

Outside the Xhost forces had swept across the continent.

"Major, you know that the General will mobilise to defend us, even with the bones of a brigade. Major General Michaela Jones will be here," Wolf said.

"I know Wolf, the question has always been how do we drive the Xhost back? They control more sectors than the Rhul and the Flet together, they control more planet's than the Korlax."

"They've never defeated the Galactic Council forces though." Dorman countered.

"Well that's not strictly true, they've never won a war against the GCDF but they've always required mobilising core divisions and I hate to say it but that means human troops, we're the backbone of the GCDF without our presence the Xhost have seen success."

"You really don't think we can save the Towoli? Or the EDC?" Wolf asked morose.

"With a squadron of combat engineers? No." The Major was terse in his response.

Captain Becca looked out at the gathering darkness, "three days to capture the Towoli and secure the cities, so on the fourth day they turn around and hit the EDC, they're dug in now, so they last, maybe another four days and then it us. In this position we can last, maybe three days. That gives the Major-general two weeks, to raise at least a brigade and to get to us..." the question hung in the air unasked.

Kovac puffed out his cheeks, and rubbed his right forearm. "Remember in the 88th there became this belief that I'd pull it out of the fire, everytime it looked impossible odds you'd hear the men, "trust in kovac" I have that faith in Michaela Jones. Our only job right now is to keep open this beach head so she can land the troops. Now I've shared my life's wisdom with you, who has any other nuggets to share?"

Sergeant Major Panther had her own meeting with her sergeants, the needs of various troops and sections were discussed and the talk turned to how long they could hold out, "Captain says three at a push, but knowing the Major, if say closer to five."

"It'll take them a week to roll the Towoli and the EDC so by the end of the second week it'll be all over," said Sergeant Webb.

"No, you're forgetting Webb, we've got Kovac, 'keep calm and trust in Kovac' I've been saying that for over ten years now and I'll keep saying as long as he keeps earning my damn faith." Knickers glared at her fellow sergeants, "what was it he always said? It's us, it's us the 88th, well now it's us the Dark Horses but it's still us, we're still the real first in last out and we're still fighting fit and fucking ugly, Kovac will know what to do and when he asks us to do the impossible we'll deliver."

Panther grinned, "Exactly, so get out there and tell that to the men, wipe their little faces, help them blow their noses and smack the heads that need smacking, we are the Dark Horses and we will do what is needed."

"Except the Major is sitting there saying the same about the General," Webb said, "you all know I love the man, he's personally saved my life four times that I can count, if anyone can save us he can...but he isn't trying to. He's not even mentioned trying to save the Towoli and the EDC, he's said we use them as cannon fodder. Our hope is that we get rescued by the woman we walked away from to follow Kovac."

The sergeant-major stared at her sergeants, she seemed at a loss for what to say.

"I'll keep my faith thank you Webb. You're not wrong, yet, but I'll put my trust in Kovac."

Corporal Grey was growing weary of banging heads, the men were despondent and grumbling. The leader they trusted beyond all others was finally cornered and they could all see it. He watched as Captain Dorman walked away from the Major looking down-trodden, after a few steps the officer managed to organise himself and he straightened his shoulders and put his head up...keeping up appearances.

"I hear you're out of ideas and we're all fucked," said a coarse voice behind Kovac.

"Hello RQ," said Kovac without turning round, "and do you believe it?"

"Of course not, you need extra arms for all the tricks up your sleeves," scoffed the Quartemaster, "but they do, the rank, which I'm guessing is the point."

"They're good people, good people don't become monsters without falling down first, I need them to be monsters, they have to lose hope so when I throw them a cobra for a life line they grab it."

"What's the plan troop?"

"The secret to Xhost success is that the Xhost have their own supply of fuel, took us a while to realise what it was, now they use a variety of tricks but the basic component is Phosphene gas, toxic and smells like rotten fish half the time. So the finest galactic scientists looked at how they could inhibit their engines, how they could stop the Xhost fuelling their war machine, they failed. Then a human looked at it, her solution was deemed too heinous, the very suggestion caused humanity some problems, as we were suddenly seen as viscious and evil."

"What was her solution?"

"Chemistry, it's beyond me but...have you ever heard of White Phosphorus?"

The Qm blanched, "really!? That's your solution?"

"Turn their fuel into chemical weapons, I just need men desperate enough to agree to it."

"Kovac..."

Kovac turned to look at the Qm, "first time you've ever called me that, look, we can sit here and let the Xhost slaughter the Towoli and the EDC or we can act, to save innocent lives, maybe we need to be less innocent."

The Qm was quiet a moment and then sighed, "you think we have to?"

"I do."

"Alright then," she touched his arm and left him.

Kovac stared into the gathering gloom, "Clausewitz never finished and Ludendorff was a bastard who lost," he seemed to mutter to himself.

Later Kovac would say it was almost sad how quickly his men agreed to his plan, but they did. So within 6 hours his troops were prepared and moving out.

Before dawn the Dark Horses had returned to their fortifications, none of the normal a activities were on display, showing pride in a job we'll done. Instead the attitude was grim, an unpleasant job but one needing done.

Outside in the skies and on the ground, the Xhost burned, White Phosphorus burns on contact with air and it can burn even human flesh to the bone. Steel melts at half the temperature of burning white phosphorus.

I've seen artists renderings of the human construct of hell, the day the Xhost burned was brighter, hotter and there was more smoke. The issue of demons I'll leave to other scholars.

Ten days later Major General Michaela Jones landed with the 3rd army of the Galactic Defence Force to discover a smoking planet and the Towoli and EDC talking about burning skies and enemies vaporized in a wall of heat.

The Dark Horses, grim of face and closed in demeanour said nothing, they simply boarded and left with the advance ships into Xhost territory.

There is a phrase amongst those who study human kind, it's taken from their own old language, a term itself bastardised from an even older tale, "humans are space-orcs"

To humans it's funny, "the human can withstand the loss of a limb and is capable of feats of strength near impossible to other races, they fix metal into their mouths and inject their skins for aesthetic purposes...ha ha, fuck yeah we're space-orcs"

But to those of us who study, it means something different, orcs are the monsters of human fiction, rewritten and redefined they are brutal, barbarous and backwards. Their savagery and their lack of humanity is common in all their iterations. Orcs are the monsters humans see in themselves.

We space going species forget that humans may be like us in their hunt for answers but they got to this technology not through global cooperation but through war-driven advances and international tensions and competition.

They have only recently become the advanced global society we know, just under the surface lies the monster. Humans are Space Orcs.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

So I know the Chemistry is a bit hinky here according to a chemist friend of mine what I've said is possible but not easily but...hey It's sci-fi.

Anyway this one ends in a dark place but it's where it went and I can't really pretend I know what I'm doing.

As always feedback is appreciated.

#humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #space orcs #space australia #space faerie #earth is a deathworld #earth is weird #dark horses #this is why i call kovac daddy #kovac

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str-spangled-banner · 6 years ago

Text

After War — Bucky x OC

MASTERLIST — ASK/REQUEST — FAQs

Summary: Ellie goes to the group therapy sessions Sam still holds whenever he finds time in between Avengers-business. Suffering from PTSD, she struggles to build a post-war life for herself as she can’t trust her brain to not mistake friend for foe. It’s at those sessions she meets Bucky who seems just as damaged by the past as she is.

Words: 3 272

Warnings: PTSD, talk of war, delusional episode

A/N: I... Ehm... I haven’t been on this blog for a year...soooo.... hyello. This is a super old thing I said I was gonna write in this post, and I guess better late than never? Right???

"My body is here, at home, but I still feel as if my mind is over there. I still feel as if I'm breathing in the dust underneath the burning sun, having to hold innocent at gunpoint because you have to determine everyone as the enemy. Sometimes it feels like if I reach over my shoulder, I'll feel the rifle right there, just waiting to be used..."

"Your mind is there." Sam agreed, attempting to gain eye contact with the young veteran who couldn't be much older than her, if not the same age. "Your mind is still at war, and it's your job to bring it peace. It is amazing that you can acknowledge the fact that you are not at war, Lawrence, because not all people can. Acknowledging your struggles is a far bigger step on the road to recovery than you can imagine. Being man enough to admit your own weaknesses is your first and greatest step..."

Sam's eyes scanned over everyone and stopped at her. "And being woman enough, of course." He added, causing a few of the other veterans to look her way. "What's your name?"

"Eleanor Conway, but I'd prefer Ellie, sir."

"How many tours?"

"I was First Sergeant in the Air Force, sir. Tours was not something I really did. I flew CSAR op's for three years before moving to Special Operations for my last two years of service."

"Combat search and rescue and special operations? That's some heavy weights you had to lift." Sam kept looking at her, trying to figure out what kind of a person she was. It was her first time in the meeting. He had received her order from court a week prior, giving her the option to either attend his group meetings or spend four months in jail, and that if she was to not show every Thursday night it was Sam's duty to report so.

From what the court order stated, Ellie had been approached by a police officer after she had been idle in her car at a traffic light for over ten minutes. When the officer had knocked on her window, she had tackled him to the ground by throwing the car door open, launched out of her car and on top of him, restraining his arms, only to fly off of him after a few seconds and apologize frantically. Sam didn't need to know much more than that to know that Ellie was yet another victim of post dramatic stress.

He never judged those who came in to the VA office for his sessions, but still he would never have thought she had been such a high rank in the Air Force, and even more surprised was he that she had been doing rescue missions, and special operations on top of that. Those were far from the easy services that the Air Force and the military provided. It would have been strange if anyone made it through all of that without at least a single scar, both physical and not.

"It was, but it's over now." She kept things short and cold, expressing her emotions being something strange and unpleasant in her world. Feelings makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability is not something you can afford when at war, that is something Ellie learned on her first day in the army, and it refuses to leave her mind no matter how much she tries to distance herself from her army days. That fear of being vulnerable latched onto her like a leech, even as war was in her rearview mirror.

"Do you still feel like your mind is at war?" Sam wondered, referring to the previous veteran who had spoken to the group about his struggles.

"No. I'm here." She assured, almost sounding defensive. Sam kept looking at her, trying to think of something to keep the conversation going, but it was clear to him that she wasn't very comfortable with being open, and he just so happened to catch a glimpse of the watch at his wrist after noticing that.

"Alright, that's about enough talking for one day, I'd say. Now, as you all know we work as a team around here, and so what we do is I will give you guys the next half hour to mingle around and find a partner. Why we do this is because it helps us to build a relationship with someone without having to explain or feel embarrassed about our past to them. It's good if you exchange numbers. If you’re having a rough day then maybe you could call your partner and just grab a beer at a local bar or something. It’s little things like that which will help you in the long run, perhaps especially a beer and watching the game on a flat screen." Sam smiled, earning a few laughs from around the room. "You make the rules. Either you want to let your partner into your life or you don't, and whatever path you choose is alright, but each week I'd like you to spend at least fifteen minutes talking to your partner and see how yore both doing, alright? Okay then, let's go. The coffee is going cold."

People began to rise from their seat, heading toward the table with coffee and some water. Ellie remained seated, looking over at the veterans who so easily began to talk amongst one another. They felt comfortable with their own kind, and even though they had never spoken to one another before, they all shared their military past, and somehow that seemed to be enough for them. She didn't recognize the same sense of familiarity. She had worked with others a lot in the Air Force, but when she was flying, she was alone in that plane.

Ellie turned to look down at her hands, but as her eyes moved across the circle of abandoned chairs, she noticed that one wasn't abandoned at all. About five seats to her left sat a man that she hadn't been able to see during the session. His hair was long and dark brown and tied into a knot underneath the rim of his baseball cap. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, and as she looked at him, he noticed her movement and looked over at her only to create eye contact.

Her eyes moved away lazily, not caring that the man clearly had caught her looking at him. She simply sunk down in her seat and let her head fall back, eyes glued to the ceiling. It didn't take long for her to hear the sound of a chair shrieking against the floor to her left and footsteps approaching. The man she had looked at for just a moment sat down in the chair next to her, eyes looking across the room whilst hers were still just looking up.

"I'm Bu-"

"Not interested in having a partner, or whatever." She interrupted him. "Find someone else."

"Who the hell says I want you as a partner?" The man questioned, causing Ellie to raise her head slightly and look at the guy who had no issue with being bold, it seemed.

"What do you want then?" She asked in confusion, not in a rude tone, but not in a particularly friendly one either.

"Well, I was about to introduce myself when some a-hole cut me off." He explained in a cold tone, looking rather annoyed by her dismissiveness. They both maintained eye contact, not saying anything for a few moments, before Ellie eventually reached her hand out towards him.

"Ellie, but you probably knew that already."

"Bucky." He took her hand and shook it when suddenly she noticed that his left hand was being concealed by a black glove. She could only assume he was covering a military injury, just like so many others do after they've served and just like a couple of others in the room. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I can't tell at the moment."

"Wow... I see how it is." Ellie pulled her hand back, tightened her lips and looked ahead of her instead of at him. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he could tell she understood the humor to his words. "It's cool. You don't need to like me."

"Oh if we're talking about liking you, then the answer is a definite no."

"Alright, ha ha... I get it, I was an ass for wanting you to leave me alone. Anything else?" She rolled her eyes back to him.

"We should exchange numbers." He changed the subject, taking her slightly by surprise. "And no, I'm not saying that because you're the only girl in here. I'm saying it because I know Sam better than anyone else here and I know he'll never leave me alone if I don't get one of these partners, nor you, for that matter."

"So we're forced to give our number out and socialize at this place?" She asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"No, but you'll have Sam begging you to do it every time you come here, which is twice a week last time I checked." Bucky placed his elbow on the back of his chair and laid his right leg over his left one leisurely.

"That does sound annoying, I'll admit." She confessed before looking over to Sam who stood against a wall in the room to get an overlook of everyone. He seemed to look towards the door in the moment, but Ellie could tell he was watching her and Bucky in the corner of his eye.

"Alright, give me your number." Ellie pulled her phone out from her pocket, unlocking it and opening up the contacts before handing it to Bucky.

"Really?" Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"You wanna suggest something and then question me when I agree to it?" She waved the phone in his face until he grabbed it. He wrote his number down and named himself before handing it back to her.

"I left my phone at home so if you could just write your number down..." His words faded out as he noticed the strange look she was giving him. "What? You're not gonna give me your number?"

"I have yours. That's more than enough." She shoved the phone back into her pocket, crossing her arms afterwards and leaning back into her seat.

Bucky had just been about to give a witty comment. Across the room, Sam had just been thanked by the veteran who had shared his story before Ellie. By the table of coffee, two men had just realized they both came from the same, small, town in the midwest. It was in that moment that a veteran across the busy room — military jacket clad in pins and medallions — moved underneath one of the ceiling lights. The lamp shone down onto one of his pins and the shiny surface reflected the light from above, flashing across Ellie's eyes.

Her mind stoped. Her entire body froze. It was as if this giant, complex, assembly, of cogs and wheels had been spinning perfectly when someone abruptly jammed a metal rod in the middle of it, causing the entire mechanism to jolt to a stop, jerking viciously as it was trying to spin but couldn't.

Ellie flew back with a vicious cry, the folding chair beneath her being kicked to the side. Her hands were up ahead of her as if she was holding a rifle and she aimed for the veteran with pins across his chest and arms. The chair she had kicked away then lost balance from the sudden move and folded together only to slam against the floor with a loud bang. She let out another panicked grunt and aimed at the ground where the still piece of furniture laid before aiming back to the veteran.

"Sniper... Sniper..." She repeated the words to herself over and over. Her hair hung messily over her face and only one eye was peaking out, her head leaning against her arm as if looking through the scope of the rifle she knew to be holding. In her mind, it wasn't imaginary. She could feel the weapon in her hand. She could feel the coolness of the metal trigger against the pad of her right index. The room wasn't a room anymore but it was the desert, and in the distance there was mountains. In a small crevasse in the midst of the orange rocks there was the reflection of a sniper rifle scope, and she had her eyes locked on the enemy.

"Out." Sam called, eyes open wide and locked onto Ellie. As no one moved, he turned his attention to the twenty people still in the room. "I said get out."

People started to hurry for the doors. The only one that didn't seem to be in a rush was Bucky, who still sat in the chair that had been right next to hers. He looked at Ellie with parted lips and an empty stare as her head snapped from side to side as she paranoiacally saw more and more threats around her. His eyes moved to Sam for a moment who was just pushing out the last people through the door.

"Barnes..." Sam said after spotting Bucky still seated only a few feet away from Ellie, nudging his head towards to doors he stood by, hoping Bucky would get the hint and leave with the others.

"What's happening to her?" Bucky asked, eyes still on Ellie, or whatever was left of her with them since her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"PTSD..." Sam sighed, walking quickly cross the room to retrieve his phone. He knew it said nothing in the court order or the emails he had gotten associated to Ellie's case about how to deal with her episodes, but even though he knew that he wanted to double check.

"No, this is something else..." Bucky disagreed. He knew PTSD, and whatever Ellie was going through was not that.

"She's only here because she goes to jail otherwise." Sam said in a stressed tone, knowing he probably shouldn't share the information with Bucky. "She attacked a police officer during one of her episodes and either she comes here to try and get better or she goes to jail."

"What is she doing?" Bucky rose from his seat, taking a few steps back to give Ellie some room.

"The damn girl has spent five years assigned to amongst the most dangerous fields within the military and she's not even twenty five years old. I think you can imagine a couple of things that might have traumatized her." Sam spat back, almost a little annoyed by how ignorant Bucky seemed, even if that wasn't the case.

"Ellie?" Sam gave up on the emails he had received about her and instead walked up to her slowly, watching her every move to see her reaction. Her head snapped to him, the lines seen through her scope crossing one another in the center of Sam's head. Although there was no weapon and Ellie was the only one who could see it, even Sam could tell that her aim was impeccable. "Eleanor?"

She was still just mumbling the word "sniper" on an endless loop, eyes glazed over as she was looking at something completely different than what both Bucky and Sam were.

"Ellie? Can you hear me?" Sam kept trying to get some sort of contact, but she was so lost in her mind she couldn't even hear him. Bucky was quiet and simply observing the situation before him. He did try and imagine what Ellie had been through, and none of it was pleasant. He had never heard of someone so young being such a high rank and doing such serious missions, and it threw him off a little. When he looked at her it was as if his brain couldn't puzzle her and her military background together. She just looked like a normal girl.

"Ellie you need to calm down, okay? You're in the VA office, back home. You're not in the military right now." Sam continued his efforts in vain. She couldn’t hear him. She wasn’t even in the same country as him in her head. She was alone. Over intercom she heard her commanding officer every now and then, and in the distance there was the enemy, but other than that she was on her own.

“Target in sight, awaiting orders.” Ellie continued to mumble. Sam had struggled to catch what she had said, but Bucky had picked up on her radio message that she believed she was sending her officer. It gave him an idea, one that he didn’t run by Sam before testing.

“Abort. For Sergeant Conway, I repeat, abort. Target misidentified. That’s one of ours, Sergeant. Stand down. Over.” Bucky spoke with a sternness in his tone and his eyes remained locked on Ellie the entire time. Sam glanced between Bucky and Ellie, both surprised by Bucky’s initiative but also impressed by his clever idea, even if he’d never admit that to him.

“Sergeant Conway reporting. Copy that, standing...” Ellie began to blink quickly and her eyes slowly lost that emptiness in them that they’d just had. “Standing down... I...”

“Ellie?” Sam tried again, his voice low and soft as not to startle her in any way. “Are you alright?”

“I’m...” She felt light headed. She felt really light headed. Her vision was blurry and the room seemed to fade between the actual room in the VA office and the desert, patches of the scorching mountains blotting her field of vision before they slowly began to grow dark and blank. The now black patches continued to expand and covered more and more of the room before her until finally, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her body seemed to have been turned off by a switch.

“Oh shit-“ Sam dashed forward to catch her limp body but it was Bucky who just barely managed to catch her in time before she would have crumbled helplessly to the ground. He quickly laid her on the floor and backed away, not comfortable being so close.

“I’m calling 911.” Sam sighed as he felt the worry slowly subside, even if it was still very much present. With her passed out, at least she didn’t have to suffer through the pain of embarrassment he knew she undoubtedly would have when she realized they had witnessed an entire episode of hers.

She remained unconscious for the twenty minutes it took the ambulance to arrive, and she had yet to awake when the paramedics loaded her into the back and shut the doors behind them before driving her to the hospital. Sam and Bucky remained standing in silence on the steps leading up the the entrance of the office after they’d taken her away, neither of them knowing what to say after the whole ordeal. Eventually, Sam admitted to how tired he was and that he just wanted to go home. He told Bucky to take care before they parted ways. Sam got into his car and drove off whilst Bucky decided to walk to his tiny apartment. It was a thirty minute walk, but he felt like he needed it. Seeing Ellie like that had somehow rattled him up a bit and an uneasy feeling nestled in the back of his mind.

Her mind and actions were not her own after the war she’d been fighting—a situation he found all too familiar for his liking. Perhaps they weren’t as different as he had first thought, him and Ellie?

So, as “usual” (can I still say that after having been away for over a year?) I love hearing what you think, so please do share your thoughts!

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