#but it could have been during his year with the other mercenary company

[pegasusrightsforall]

How old do we think Ike was when Soren and him met again and Soren joined the Greil Mercenaries?

[bewiiitched]

⟩ Sexdoll (chapter eight)

• Autor's note: I had a hard time getting inspired the last few days and this isn't what I planned at all but then it did come to my mind how is supposed to be two Logan's (and two Laura's) in Deadpool timeline since Logan is still alive in 2024. And well, things are gonna get bittersweet.

Warnings: none.

/////////

It's no small victory that Logan has decided to sleep next to her again. And the mutant can't ignore how, in small steps, the alcohol in her life is diminishing.

There was no part of him that would have dared to broach the subject, not when the amount of alcohol she ingested was minimal compared to his own, but being aware of the inferior healing factor in her was a constant torment, so he is caught completely off guard when the bottles are not replenished in the wooden display case where she kept them. The pack of beer she bought was only replenished on Tuesdays, and now her extra pay was only based on money. Nightmares are cured by the warmth of his chest instead of the burning in her throat from cheap liquor. The same bottle of Vodka remains half full for weeks even though she can't sleep, and when worries plague her, they take a backseat as her fingers wrap around his hair and the tips of her fingers make small circles on his scalp.

However, it's not the only achievement, since despite her initial reluctance, Logan ended up accepting to work with Wade on some of his missions. The idea was not foreign to her, since she had received the same offer from the mercenary in the past and could count on the fingers of one hand the times she had accepted, given that she refused to use her powers on others and although the type of criminals had varied considerably, in her case she always focused on attacking organized crime gangs, getting some information and letting Wilson finish the job.

The sound of the hands of the clock hanging on the wall is her only company when cleaning, and she unconsciously hums a song to motivate herself, that is until she hears a light tapping on the window that faces the street. She doesn't need to look to know what it is about him since his smell is enough, and when she turns to see him over her shoulder, his grumpy expression makes it clear that he is rethinking his decision.

“Has it gone that badly?” She asks, trying to hide the hint of amusement in her tone. Her last “job” had been half a year ago, but she couldn't blame the mutant for getting exasperated when Wade didn't take the situation seriously. Her hand goes to a bottle of Jack Daniels that is on top of the shelf, when his hand grabs her wrist, stopping her from standing on her toes to grab it.

“No need. ” He answers, his tone is a little rougher due to tiredness, but his touch is just as gentle as ever as his hand positions itself on her lower back. “I thought he wasn't serious during our time in the void. In comparison, I was wrong.”

He growls, and can't help but laugh at it, he breaks off with a light hum and his hands position themselves over hers, gently pushing them away as he turns around, both of them face to face, she can't help but glance at his suit.

“ So you're the hero of the city now?” She murmurs, her hand runs down his chest, and Logan clenches his jaw with his hand closing on her wrist, stopping her.

“ I'm not hero, doll. ” His response is instantaneous and she gives him a guilty look, but that doesn't mean she agrees, she had believed that they had gotten out of that pit of guilt and rejection, but obviously she was wrong. “ Even if I saved your timeline, it's the least I could do. ”

He adds, his expression more tense than before as he sees the challenge in her gaze, but she doesn't answer. His brow furrows more and more as the seconds pass and the words are on the tip of her tongue. “He told me how you were about to sacrifice yourself, not just anyone is willing to die for strangers.”

She emphasizes, and his wrist twists free of her grip to wrap both hands around his neck. His brown gaze darkens as he remembers the event, how Wade had cataloged him as the best Wolverine shortly after and yet, the events of his past still haunted him.

She is not the best example to get him out of that pit of darkness, but she tries to move the subject away.

“You know how Wade wasn't born mutated...” she begins, only to stop when he sees her expression, and realizes that in reality, he didn't know that detail. Her lips turn into a line as she senses that this isn’t territory she needs to be talking about, so despite the confusion on the mutant’s face, she continues speaking, putting a finger to her lips when he opened his mouth to interrupt her. “Well, now you know. None of the victims did it, actually. There was this whole process to create a mutation, and I spent months sabotaging the creation of new mutants.”

Something clicks in Logan’s brain and she can see the understanding in his expression, it’s almost adorable how she can see the gears in his head turning and connecting the dots. “He told me how you took over in the torture.”

She hums in response, a look of regret crossing her face. “I didn’t always do it because I could get caught, but in the absence of a regenerative factor, I would turn off the nerves so they wouldn’t feel pain and interrupt the whole process, but they always ended up dying…”

The dismay is written on her face and hee lower lip trembles slightly at the memory. Even worse when she has the shadow of Francis’ hands on her neck after discovering what she had been doing.

“You had good intentions…” Her snort cuts him off.

“Hell is full of good intentions.” She answers dryly, brushing the hair from her face. “If I had never been taken out of the base and sent on all those missions, everything would still be the same, I would still be torturing innocent people or sabotaging their progress, but I would be still killing people.”

But it would all end the same, with death or dozens of supersoldiers. They learned from Stryker, controlling mutants is deadly, but mutating humans is unstable.”

The frustration is obvious, but her small outburst doesn't let the mutant's flinch go unnoticed at the mention of Stryker. And although Wilson had vaguely given her details of the multiverse, she hadn't been able to help but wonder if all of its variants got the adamantium claws and ended up being a heavyweight through the same process.

They both try to get rid of each other's wounds but it's like putting out a fire with gasoline. “I'm not like you, or Wade. I brought on everything that happened to me.”

She finishes, and silence is all she finds from the mutant, his gaze goes to his own suit, the only memory he had of his own universe, he remembers the screams in the same way that the young woman remembers the only two times she fought against Francis.

“I lost control when I got back to the mansion. “He starts, but his voice shakes. “All I could focus on was the smell of blood, I could still smell the traces of fear and worry that were in the rooms, and they were all gone.” He says through gritted teeth, his gaze filled with helplessness as he continues. “They were still looking for more mutants when I killed them, every single one of them… I started losing control more often.”

His voice sounds thick, and he sees her nod slightly, understanding written all over her face as she looks away, a shaky sigh. “Alcohol was the only thing that could keep me distracted, I needed to drown that rage, but I could barely contain it. ”

Looking up, she swallows, confirming in that instant how he had followed her in her attempt to quit alcohol, although theirs had been a gradual process, part of her was tempted to tell him that there was no need for him to join her sobriety but she could barely imagine the frustration it must be that his regenerative factor would eliminate the alcohol in his body when he wanted to forget the memories and she only used it to fight a few nightmares. “Don’t do it…”

She murmurs without hiding her concern, her gaze focusing on one of the many bottles that had been left on the bar, and despite the bitter taste in their mouths that they both shared from their experiences, his expression softens in understanding and a growl rumbles in his throat.

It had been about two months since their first meeting, but that's when Logan realizes how his heartbeat is pounding in his ears at the gleam in her eyes, a mix of guilt and devotion as if he were worthy of something more than perpetuating the path of violence he had always followed, as if she had decided to stay with him despite everything, as if her hands could be used for something more than getting blood on themselves. The faith he perceives from her dries his throat, although the sensation is not entirely unknown, he had felt the same rejection with Laura and Wade at their expectations, how they believed it could be something better than what it was, as they knew it was from the beginning.

He keeps thinking about how little he really knows about the situation, how Wade barely detailed how Ajax and her came to confront each other at some point, being the background of her being removed to external missions and in turn, the little he knows about his own roommate, it's not that he completely trusts the mercenary's versions when she had made it clear that there were certain aspects that she was hiding from him. And he can't help but think of the scene as Wade had told him, how it had been a matter of time before it was discovered, so being present in the fight alone was like watching two divorced parents argue.

It had happened days before his escape, Wilson was no stranger to what the female had been doing for weeks, and it had become a sort of silent pact between them that she was relieving him of torture even after he had mutated. So she found himself visiting him more often, gravitating around him and ignoring his jokes and questions, being more like a puppet that appeared and disappeared for nothing more than trying to repair the damage she helped to create.

Not that it was any different that time, entering the basement where they kept him she barely gave a nod to greet him, but she still found it difficult to adjust to the idea that his body did not show the signs of torture to which they continued to subject it. Sometimes she was tempted to answer him, but she always kept silent since she knew how constant Ajax's presence was on both of them, and the special interest he had developed in testing his limits.

A syringe of her blood preceded the familiar tickle on her fingertips, how they wave through his body, noticing the previous pain under her touch only to see the spasms in his body as she forcefully calms it, his muscles relaxing, his skin tickling and his breathing regulating.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” is all she says, but she can barely get out of the place and into the hallway when a hand closes on her neck, lifting her up, the figure of Ajax stopping her in his iron grip giving her no room to speak.

“Of course you will.” he hisses, everything in him screams danger and Wilson’s voice in the background reaches her ears, but she can barely pay attention to it when Everything around her sounds distant. And then she feels it, the burning in her body that makes her fingers curl, every muscle in her body tensing and like an electric current, she hears him growl, his grip losing strength as her powers take over. Panic won’t let her think clearly, and she goes all out when her hand closes on his arm, the spasms in his body beginning and her feet hitting the ground again. Years of holding back makes losing strength in her senses and reflexes feel like sinking into quicksand, and it only makes her more alert, since the only advantage she has is that she can paralyze him, that not hurting him.

“Don’t even think about telling them,” she threatens, and her tone is relentless, her hand traveling to her lower back, pulling out a gun that she places on his forehead. “No feeling pain and no having nerves are two different things.”

She reminds him and there is a dangerous edge to it, one that makes her see how the cornered animal she is and that she won’t stop once she snaps, but it’s not just the certainty in her words that creates fire in his gaze, but how even though he wants to tear her apart, his body is numb and it only gets worse, his legs ending up giving out.

Despite the situation, she is reluctant to kill him, making it obvious that she feels pushed to do so so even when she puts the safety back on the gun, her powers still affect him, and the look he gives them both from the floor when she leaves the room is promising.

(...)

“Logan?” Her voice, shy and worried, brings him out of his thoughts, and he clears his throat. She doesn’t realize it, but he remembers the mercenary’s words and there is no past destructive enough that can make him think of her as nothing more than a victim of circumstances.

“You held back. “He murmurs, more to himself than to her and she sees his brow furrow in confusion. His tongue moistening his lips as she sits up and her arms leave his neck.

“with who?” she asks, a slow blink that could be almost comical.

“Him.” He answers seriously, and the tension in her body is immediate, no need to name his original version. But he is not wrong and she gives a slight nod in response as she waits for him to continue, to make his point clear so when he doesn’t, it is she who falters in her speech.

“It’s different.” Her words come out halting but she is defensive as she looks at him. “I didn’t want to hurt him, I guess I subconsciously didn’t go all in. Francis, though…”

The last time she faces him, she can't recognise herself, blood boiling at the recent news and both aware of each other, what their actions had meant for the project, both on a tight rope as Ajax was seen as the one esponsible for the escape of the now called Deadpool and the burning of the former lab.

Her comings and goings to the base are becoming more and more spaced out in time, the missions becoming more constant and she tries not to think too much when her main purpose is based on attracting more helpless people who can mutate while Francis cleaned up the mess.

So when her new purpose reaches her ears, everything around her explodes. — AJAX!

Her scream echoes, the sound of her heels resonating on the floor as she searches for him, door by door and hallway by hallway, ignoring how the rest of the staff evaporates as she walks, everything in her trembles and she sees red when she finally finds him coming out of a torture room, his white coat splattered with blood.

She advances towards him in giant steps before launching herself at him, fueled by fury, helplessness written on her face that only grows when he dodges her fist and grabs her wrist only to receive a kick to the stomach that sends him against the door frame and drags her with him, in response her wrist creaks, but there is no scream that follows the breaking of the joint.

His gaze darkens as a satisfied smile grows on her face, the understanding that they both feel no pain now, so forcing her damaged limb, she twists it free of his hold but Ajax is faster and grabs her hair, slamming her face into the wall, again and again, the crack of her nose preceding the shudder that indicated her control over her own body was failing so she doesn't even consider using her fluids. The third time he goes to hit her, her foot hits the wall hard creating distance as she pushes her body back, her hand grabbing the one that was pulling her hair and they both give in, for different reasons, taking a while to process that he has frozen behind her, a moan escaping her lips as her power returns to its original state. And when she finally recovers, the tension in her body is evident, the pain being fuel for her burning gaze.

She turns sharply, still holding her hair in his hand, and pulls a knife from her thigh sheath, stabbing his chest until all her frustration comes out, she just growls and gasps, seeing his body covered in blood as they both fall to the ground, her power over him and her fury only growing at the thought that it doesn't hurt him.

She registers Angel’s voice screaming her name, but when she looks up seeing her approaching from the end of the hallway, the bloodlust written on her face makes her stop halfway. The wariness in her gaze because it’s clear her powers have been unleashed if Ajax is like this.

“Back off.” She grunts, not stopping herself from attacking him, abandoning the knife and hitting the back of his head over and over again like moments before he had broken her nose. Out of the corner of her eye he sees her approach, and her expression turns condescending when the mutated woman’s hand closes on her forearm.

“Wait for me there, sweetheart.” She murmurs to Francis in disgust before focusing on her new problem, watching her squirm listlessly and her touch abandons him to focus on her, grabbing her arm and making her feel nothing but pain until she finally passes out, falling with a thud.

“I thought you’d like the new position.” He scoffs, spitting blood and her foot slams into his stomach in anger, the tip of her heel digging into his flesh.

“I’m not a fucking whore.” She hisses, still shaken by the thought of having to face the damn wolverine. And the laughter that follows lets her know he doesn’t agree, but it’s cut short when she grabs him by the neck, kneeling down and lowering herself to his height as his body obeys her. “I don’t know how you convinced them but you better get this shit sorted while I’m gone. Because if I die, you’re Wilson’s whore.” ”

(...)

To this day, she still blamed the mercenary for not having recorded Francis' death but it was something she had learned to live with until her birthday came around and she remembered it again.

“ That was the last time I lost control like that, and well, you know the rest.” She speaks, but she can't hide the satisfaction she felt at having unleashed on him after so long. “ The only reason we didn't kill each other was because we were both crucial...”

His expression is unreadable as he looks at her, but his gaze softens as he remembers the incident that had occurred at the bar during his absence, understanding the reluctance to lose control, and he can't say he disagrees, the murderous rage he had felt after the death of the group had shaken him to the bone.

“ Let's go home. ” She whispers, her voice vibrating low as she tries to ignore how her heartbeat is racing, the discomfort she felt after having opened up to him like so many other times and him still not judging her, not seeing her as the monster she felt she was, the one she had become after activating her powers having isolated herself from all physical contact at the risk of harming others, how she had stained her hands with blood for never being able to control herself, how even after managing to suppress herself her powers were still a danger, despite being studied by the project as if to conclude that her fluids could be useful even if she wasn't involved, specifically, her blood.

/////

Taglist: @bontensbabygirl @twinky-wink

[shantismurf]

I would love to hear about #6 South Pacific! =D

Ooh this one popped up and ran away with me a couple months ago when I was lucky enough to be a part of a small ensemble jazz adaptation of South Pacific that a wealthy patron of my choir commissioned for his birthday party 👀 You could never produce a work like that for a paid production due to copyright, so being able to sing it just for funsies was an incredible opportunity!!

I've got the whole plot sketched out...hmm lemme find a good excerpt...Oh how about the cast profiles!

Story setting: Umbar World War II in TA 2925 Umbar, City of the Corsairs: The Haven of Umbar was a city to the far southwest of Gondor in Middle-earth. By the Third Age it was known for its sea-faring Corsairs. It had been used by the 'King's Men', who had turned to the worship of Melkor in the last days of Númenor. These 'King's Men' became known as Black Númenóreans: "very powerful amongst the Haradrim, a neighbouring people with whom they were allied. The rulers of Umbar retained much influence over Harad well into the Third Age. When not part of Gondor, its system of government was likely tyrannical." In TA 933 Gondor's King Eärnil I captured Umbar in a surprise attack, although this was "at great cost.” Current conflict is some attempt to retake the city or region after some kind of Pearl Harbor like attack. Gondor has sent out calls for aid to all their allies, and hired many mercenary companies to expand their ranks. Bilbo is Nellie - traveling with a small band of Hobbits who answered the call of Gondor, mostly Tooks and a handful of Brandybucks who honor of the company of Hobbit archers that fought for Gondor at the Battle of Fornost in the war against Angmar almost a thousand years ago. They're not used in battle but assigned to support only, which is frustrating for them.  Thorin is Emilie - fled to Umbar to raise Fili and Kili alone after Dis and Vili died in the Flood of Tharbad during the Fell Winter. Thorin and the boys fled south and were distrusted as foreign dwarven refugees, rumors about him being a murderer are just baseless racist slander, even after 15 years. He’s established a stable, successful life despite the challenges, but he avoids the armies in the region, especially the Dwarven mercenaries. Dwalin is Lt Cable - posing/serving as an officer for the forces of Gondor, a mercenary leading a company of Dwarves, but has really come searching for the heirs of Durin. The Ris are natives of the South, could be from any of the clans who were only described as “Eastern clans”: Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks, Stonefoots Dori is partly Bloody Mary - runs a tea shop, Nori (the other part of Bloody Mary) helps but he sells more than just tea which Dori turns a blind eye to, until Nori, seeing Dwalin notice Ori (Liat), tries to get a better life for Ori by getting the officer to fall for him.

Bofur is Billis - also in the Company with his cousin and brother. They treat the Hobbits better than the soldiers of Gondor do, and he is friends with Bilbo. (Sings “Nothing Like a Dame” but something about the bad food in the army and the Hobbits having better food lol)

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know 9/9

Notes: This chapter is a little bit different from all the others :) It takes on someone else's point of view. There's going to be an epilogue after this but it'll only be about a paragraph. I just couldn't fit it in this post.

Taglist: @shepgurl, @unicorngirly1, @bellgraves, @lily-lily131313, @sharksausages

Triggers: Lots of triggers in this one. Mentions of torture, dubcon, mentions of suicide/self-harm, brainwashing, mentions of harm during pregnancy, physical abuse, etc.

-1 year later

This is going to be a burn after writing kind of thing. And believe me when I say that I will burn after writing. I just need to get this all out. I don’t have anyone to really talk to about this kinda shit. I sure can’t talk to Val about it. She’s got more than enough on her plate. Shepherd I could talk to but he’s dead.

We have a 3-month old little boy. His name is Everett Lucas Graves. 8 pounds 8 ounces when he was born. I thought about making him a junior but I would rather not make him easy for my enemies to find.

I never thought I’d ever have kids. I certainly never really planned on it. Sure it had crossed my mind. But not in detail. But anyway it’s three in the morning and Val is asleep. So is Rett. He loves to sleep and he must get that from his mother because I have the worst time sleeping. I figured this would be the best time to get all this out.

It's been a journey and while right now it’s gorgeous it hasn’t always been pretty. I know a lot of people look at me as a bad person and that’s because I am. I’m a mercenary and I kill people for money. My company and I, Shadow, just do it within the confines of the United States now. No more overseas missions. For now, anyway. I miss the overseas stuff. Maybe when Rett is older. Maybe.

The main topic of this…whatever this is…is gonna be Val. We met when I was first introduced to 141 and I honestly can’t describe what I felt when I first saw her. I fucking wanted her. I wanted to tell her “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life” because she was gonna be mine. Forever. And she still is going to be. I’m never going to let her go. I can’t explain it. It was an instant connection. I had to have her. And a weird thought popped into my head. It was the first time I even thought about having kids: that woman is gonna be the mother of my children if I want them.

I probably should have used better judgement and shouldn’t have had sex with her for the first time when she was halfway drunk. I wasn’t sober either, to be fair. But as soon as I tasted her…as soon as I was inside her…it was instant addiction. There’s no other way to describe it. She was American, like me, but just so fucking exotic. Valdez, wherever that last name came from. She didn’t know. She grew up in foster care. I yanked her records. I know she’d probably smack me if she ever found out but do you know why she grew up in foster care? Her parents had a habit of fucking selling her.

Anyway, At least a few times a week we’d meet up. Deep down my values and morals would whisper and tell me I was halfway raping her because I was her superior. But she wanted it just as much as I did. You’re just gonna have to take my word for it. Hell, she sought me out a couple of times. She was just as hooked as I was.

That’s one of the things that made Las Almas so damn difficult. But I had to follow orders. I had to. I didn’t have a choice. I still remember that earlier that same day Val had come to me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her what Shepherd had told me: that I was to take control over the mission from 141 later that night.

But I couldn’t. I looked into her eyes and I couldn’t. And I remember that that afternoon was the first time I made love to her. Up until then it had been just…fucking.

Later that night after I had told 141 about me taking over she’d looked at me with such disgust and anger that…to be honest I wanted to fucking smack that look off her face and tell her to respect me, that this was all for the better, couldn’t she see?

I’d been planning on taking her with me anyway but she toppled over that barrier and into that wooded area before I could get my hands on her. My men were told to find all of them. But to bring Val, on her fucking knees, back to me. I was so fucking livid she’d walked away from me.

And when she put up a fight as I tried to ask her questions that stormy night in Las Almas I got even more irritated and felt even more betrayed.

I shouldn’t have done what I did. I shouldn’t have tortured her. Shepherd hadn’t even really given any orders outside of recapturing 141 at the point we started interrogating Val in that torn up warehouse. I just wanted to scare her. I was so sure she’d come to my side and just give me an idea as to where 141 was.

And when she didn’t, I lost it. God, I lost it. I started humiliating her in front of Shadow. They already knew we’d been sleeping together but I’d made her sound like a slut. And then she called me a war criminal. Which I’ve come to realize since then I am. But back then I didn’t want to come to terms with that.

It was the first time I’d hit her. Ever. It was the first time I’d ever hit a woman. And it only got worse from there. I asked…well no…if I’m honest…I demanded she call 141. She said no. And…

Ugh it’s so hard to go through all this shit again. But if it’s hard for me I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Val to have to go through it, experience it, live it, suffer it. Sometimes she still wakes up screaming.

But when she said no I used my gun to hit her across the face so hard I left a scar on her face. It’s a scar I can still see. Even in low lighting. It reminds me of all the fucked up shit I did to her. I shot her. Though to be fair, it hit her vest. I know it broke ribs. Because that’s what bullets do when they hit a vest.

And then I literally used a knife to cut her.

Is it supposed to be this hard writing this stuff out?

And the most fucked up thing was that back then, I liked hearing her scream.

I threatened to kill her, torture her further, to have her raped. But she still didn’t break. And you know what? With her childhood I’m realizing just how messed up that was. Her parents would sell her. Any woman is terrified of rape. But to Val it must have been like reliving a nightmare.

It only got way worse from there.

Something happened mentally in my head, though. When Shepherd gave official orders to “break that bitch…make her talk” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go hands on. I could barely watch. But I had to be there to keep things from going overboard. My men would have ripped her to pieces if I had left them in charge. They would’ve killed her. My men are…far more brutal than most people realize. They would’ve murdered her. But not before making her beg to die.

And the order was to keep her alive. So while I had figured out I couldn’t go hands on with her, we were still ordered to hurt her.

I tried keeping her uncomfortable to see if that would help. The more days that passed, the colder I’d set it in that room she was in. Ok, cell. I know she probably doesn’t remember all of it but I do. Every mind-numbing detail. I’d do anything just to make her as uncomfortable as possible. Then I’d let her be comfortable and attempt to ask what we needed to know.

Still nothing.

So sometimes I used handcuffs latched one latch too tight. She fought them so hard she bled. I’d use zipties, duct tape, anything to restrain her in stress positions. Still nothing. She screamed that she would kill me one day and I’d laugh it off. One night we tried borderline drowning her for hours. When I leaned down next to her, there was so much pain and fear in her eyes. And I was hoping this was it, that she was going to break, but she didn’t.

It got to the point to where she was swinging on my soldiers. And I didn’t like that. I couldn’t hit her again. But my men sure could. They beat her until I told them to stop. Still nothing. And she still kept picking fights. We were running out of ideas.

I know she had that information. She did. She was just refusing to give it up. And in my head, now and back then, I wondered if she wanted to give it up, knowing that the codes to the homing beacons had probably changed by then and they were useless, but she refused, wanting to control that tiny part of her life.

We tried anything we could think of that wouldn’t kill her. Wateboarding, beatings, keeping her awake, further threats of rape. Hell, several times we brought a Taser. It was around that time that I stopped liking hearing her scream. She’d gone from whimpers, trying anything she could to hold back a scream to screaming bloody murder.

And then came one thing that scared me half to death.

I remember I had decided to check in on Val, to play a little good cop/bad cop. I’d been planning t bring her a blanket. I found her slumped against the wall, face whiter than usual, her left wrist laying next to her and bleeding heavily.

She had tried to fucking kill herself.

I asked her what the hell was wrong with her. And I remember applying pressure to her wrist. That blanket I had brought for her ended up around her wrist tied tight.

I remember she was out of it when I picked her up and carried her to medical. I brought her to 10-4, a Shadow who specialized in trauma medicine and was also a nurse practitioner. He stitched her up no problem. No serious blood loss noted.

But the attempt had been real. She had tried to take her own life. A part of me wanted to stop it all there. So later that night I called Shepherd. I told him it was too much, that we needed to lighten things up a bit. I even asked if we could stop, saying those codes were probably outdated anyway.  He told me to stop letting my feelings get in the way and that this stopped being about the codes a long time ago. Shepherd told me that he needed me to break Val and bring her to Shadow. There was no other way.

So when Val woke up from her drugged sleep, I berated her even though it honestly hurt me, too. I wanted to stop. So bad. To take her and disappear. But go where? They would’ve found us and killed us both. So I kept making her feel stupid and when she asked me if she was in hell, I told her she was.

And it was seeing her drugged and so out of her mind, talking to people that weren’t there, that gave me an idea.

It took days. Days of trying different cocktails. Days of further inflicting pain. Of stitching up those long-forgotten, close-to-infection cuts on her chest with no anesthesia while she screamed. Days of endless drugs being pumped through her system.

She was laughing at one point and I honestly wondered if she’d lost it. If she was going to end up in a psych ward for the rest of her life.  She said she knew how to piss me off and it was at that point that she told me that Soap had fucked her better than I ever did.

I had no fucking idea they had ever hooked up. So even though she was drugged and restrained and helpless, I grabbed her by the hair and told her that if she didn’t give me those codes, we were going to start giving her something that was going to make her scream.

She didn’t break.

So in my anger I gave the all clear to use IV drugs that, when dosed a certain way, inflicted pain. 10-4 had described it as feeling like you were on fire inside.

And scream she did. And when we gave her a break, and she was somewhat lucid, she yanked the IV out of her arm and told me to kill her.

Not sure why but that shook me to my core. That had been her second attempt at her own life.

They sedated her.

Shepherd and I talked again. And I almost begged him to let us stop. I couldn’t do it anymore.

But that was when Shepherd said that if we didn’t break her he would.

Shepherd would make what we did to her look like child’s play. And I know Shepherd would kill her after. Because if she couldn’t break and join Shadow, then she was useless to him. She was worse than useless to Shepherd. She was a living witness that could testify that she was tortured at the hands of Shadow.

I don’t know what did it. To this day I don’t know. I walked up to her in her semi-conscious state and told her that if she didn’t give me those codes in the next 5 seconds, we would restart that horrible IV and then hand her over to Shepherd. 5, 4, 3…

And surprisingly, she opened her eyes fully for the first time in days. She looked at me. And she cried. At first, her voice sounded like it was spewing nonsense. But then I realized they were the codes.

At long last, we finally had those codes.

It took Val a few days to recover. But because we hadn’t inflicted physical pain, she recovered quicker than I expected.

It was time for me to start the second half of my assigned duty: make Val mine and Shadow Company’s. It wasn’t hard because she was craving, she was desperate for a gentle touch. That night when I undressed her I was reminded of just how much I had hurt her. Of just how many commands I had given to have my men hurt her.

She was covered in bruises and stitched lacerations. So I remember taking it easy on her. It was so close to making love…just not quite.

Val went through a metamorphosis after that. She was…docile? Not sure if that’s the right word. I think she was just scared of being put back in that tiny cell and hurt all over again. Maybe her brain made connections that made her realize no one else cared about her and that no one else was coming for her. She had been abandoned. And that this was going to be her home for the rest of her life.

She had fully broken and it was my job to rebuild her just like I wanted her.

She did whatever I asked her to do. It was simple stuff at first. Translation. And she did it without question, without a second thought. A good sign. And I played on that and played some mind games with her. I was honest, though. 141 wasn’t going to take her back.

She started going through these anger outbursts. Even as she started gaining more privileges. I figured she was just coming to terms that the 141 part of her was dead and a new identity was being born. We all mourn when we lose a part of ourselves, right?

I remember that it was around this time that we changed her categorization in our system. We first had her listed as a captured enemy combatant. Her sub-classification was prisoner of war. It was changed after the first time we took her into the field. We gave her a new callsign: Phantom-80. 80 because that’s the number on some parts of my uniform. I wanted to make it clear she was…is…mine. Phantom? To mock 141’s Ghost.

I began trusting my men to keep Val safe when I wasn’t around. I made it clear they were not to touch her. I didn’t have to worry about them disobeying despite the fact that quite a few of them had a crush on her. They knew and still know the consequences of what would happen if they were to so much as look at her wrong.

Val went through another episodes of having these rages and actually started having these physical outbursts of anger after I told her 141 thought we were both dead. She directed that anger into her fieldwork and she actually surprised me when her body count reached 15. She was so angry during that time. I remember even I was kinda scared of her. I remember asking myself just what I’d created. I recall being nervous she’d tried to find her way back to 141 so I told her 141 would kill her slow if they found her and she believed me. And even if they didn’t I told her she’d just end up in prison for the rest of her life. She saw me as God as far as I knew.

She went through this…phase where she hid her face from everyone but me. I knew she was self-conscious about the marks and scars on her face. I felt kinda bad about it. But then again…would any of it have happened if she had just told us what we needed to know immediately? It kinda made me feel special, to be honest. Here she was wearing a mask and long sleeves around everyone else but me. Taking off her clothes was like unwrapping a present.

I didn’t show Val or let Val see it on my face but I was scared when I realized we were going to have to team up with 141 again. I was terrified of losing her. I knew they were going to try to take her from me.

And when they did, my heart sank. When I was told she had been taken by them and there was no telling where she was, I remember punching several holes in drywall. I demanded she be found immediately. Now. I felt like every minute she was going was just another minute further away they moved her.

She was gone for a couple days but it felt like a month to me. I called Shepherd in a panic. Shepherd told me not to worry about it and that he had it under control.

Shepherd didn’t know but when I found out she was pregnant, the first thing that came to mind was how far along and did I interrogate her while she was pregnant?

Turns out I did. She was pregnant through all of it. And that made me feel like an absolute piece of shit. We captured Val in October. Rett was born in July. You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that’s a 9-month time period. I didn’t know. But that still doesn’t take away from the horrible fact that she was already pregnant. Barely but still. I mean how fucking horrible is that? At the same time it’s a miracle isn’t it? That little boy survived all of that. I realize she might’ve gotten pregnant right after but something deep down tells me she already was.

I looked at the hospital records. Some of them. I couldn’t make it through all of them. Broken, healed and re-broken ribs. A ruptured eardrum from when I hit her in the face with my gun that first night. Hairline fractures. I couldn’t make it past that.

I still can’t bring myself to say I’m sorry. The words just won’t come out. So until I’m man enough to put it into words that Val can hear:

Val, I’m so fucking sorry. I was under orders. No excuse, I know. I’m sorry you still wake up screaming from nightmares of what I did and had done to you. Even though you’ll never tell me what you’re dreaming about I know. I’m sorry I left scars on your body that will always remind you of the torture I put you through. And Jesus Christ, I’m sorry and I’ll never forgive myself for doing it to you while you were pregnant. I’ll never forgive myself. Just please, don’t tell Rett. I don’t deserve you and if I was any better of a person I would give you back to 141 with Rett and let myself go to prison. I know they’d take care of you and our son. But I just can’t. I can’t take back what I did. But I can focus on the future. And I promise that neither you nor Rett will ever want for anything. Anything you or he want, it's ya’ll’s. Let's go somewhere only we know and raise our family.

God forgive me for all I've done.

[skyrim-forever]

for theodora, 1, 5, 13, and 17 for the oc asks?? :3

Hello friend <3 Eeeeee thank you so much!

1. What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?

Theo is the type to sort of turn off her brain during a crisis and go into survival mode. A great example is Helgen, just as she's made peace with dying; Alduin attacks and brain off, just going through the basic motions to survive with Hadvar. After this survival mode turns off the gravity of the situation sets in and then she uses her self-destructive coping mechanisms.

5. Does your OC have a signature weapon and/or attack? How long did they train to master it?

Theodora is a dual-welder! She was taught by her Uncle Elo growing up, he started teaching her around 11, at her insistence. Her father Ricardo was a bladebinder and although he tried his best to teach her; she did not inherit his raw talent for magic, like at all. "Humans are worse at magic" is a statistical error, Theodora who is completely incapable, is an outlier who should not have been counted😛 Her uncle gave her enchanted dwarven swords that she has used ever since.

13. How important are romantic relationships to your OC? Do they prefer casual sex, short flings, or long term relationships? Do they want to get married or are they content with what they have? Or do they have no interest in romance whatsoever?

This is the question!!! Okay so, little background info. Theo's parents were a pirate (Ricardo) and a noblewoman (Kassandra) who ran off together, her mom wanted more in life than to be some noble's wife, she wanted to see the world. Theo's father adored her and took her to Elsywer, Black Marsh, Morrowind, showed her parts of Tamriel had never seen. Wonderful happy story until Kassandra goes overboard.

This kind of makes Theo fear love, especially seeing how her father never got over it (understandably so). She then loses him and her uncle in her teens which starts a pattern of destructive behaviours. She uses sex as a coping mechanism and to get things she wants. She prefers short flings, but has had at least one friends with benefits situation. She had a roster in Cyrodiil and a like two people in Skyrim she saw on the reg. There was one person she fell for but she knew there was no future there so they break things off just as feelings hit.

Then she meets Ondolemar and adds him to it but then she's like "hmm, I kind of like sleeping with him the most" and she stops seeing anyone else. This is the downfall :P They spend more time together and feelings develop and by the time they notice what's happening they are in to deep. She starts embracing love as a beautiful thing and finds herself wishing they could get married and be together. As you've read my tes-summer-fest fic, they do <3

So many roster -> long term "enemies with benefits" fling -> lovers -> marriage and three kids, quite the progression haha

17. Does your OC have an enemy? What happened between them? Is it mutual or one-sided? Is it petty or serious? Is one party seeking revenge? Does one person want the other dead or are they content to hate them from afar? 

Theodora does have an emeny, well a main one. Due to her father's outspokenness and criminal enterprise interfering with the East Empire Company in Anvil, they entered a quasi-territorial war. This only ended when the head of the company in the city, a Breton named Jean Rostorard, nearly emptied his treasury hiring mercenaries to attack her father and crew. He was successful in overrunning them, killing her beloved father and uncle. Theo then spent the next 10 years planning her revenge. She joins the arena to become a better fighter and thieves guild to become sleathier. She uses some of her flings to gather information even.

The plan was not to kill him but rather make him finally give back his wealth to the city. In my story after Anvil was destroyed in the great war, the East Empire Company stepped in and acted as though they were going to improve things. Instead they just exploited the people and hoarded the wealth. As Theo's father was greatly against this and used his own money to build infrastructure, employ people etc. Theo thinks the best revenge is to have his wishes honoured. Also she knows her father wouldn't want her to kill someone for him and at this point in life she isn't psychological capable of killing someone. You can read about this here if you're interested!

Though, eventually when she ends up back in Cyrodiil she discovers he has not made good on his end of the bargain and she starts formulating a way to kill him. This is after the Civil War, Alduin, and Miraak; so killing has unfortunately become something she can deal with.

[enbyleighlines]

oskieran in the three year gap

Ooooh, another great oskieran prompt!!

I’m going to break this down into sections, since a lot happens during that three year gap. Also, I am mostly assuming a lot of things about what happens when during this game, bc this duology loves to be super vague with timelines and also loves to contradict itself.

Immediately following the end of the Mad King’s War, Kieran is extremely busy during the reconstruction of Crimea, and devotes himself entirely to this task.

(I headcanon that he sort of envisions himself as being married to Crimea, the way a nun would be married to God. Yes, he is a staunch nationalist. Somehow this translates to him being in love with the concept of Crimea. No, this does not make sense to anyone but Kieran.)

At this point in time, the mercenaries are also staying in Melior, but their paths rarely cross with Kieran. While Kieran is out helping with the physical reconstruction of Crimea’s infrastructure, the Greil Mercenaries are supporting Queen Elincia as she attempts to restore order within the political sphere. For some reason, this task involves interacting with a lot of nobles. Oscar would much rather be out helping the royal knights, but he feels responsible for ensuring his politically incompetent brothers don’t screw anything up.

So for the first year passes without much incident. Kieran and Oscar are both so busy that neither of them thinks much about anything else. And they still do see each other now and again, even if they rarely have the opportunity to properly catch up, so they don’t miss each other too much.

Things start to slow down partway through the second year. Queen Elincia has more or less established her authority, and the bulk of damage done to Crimea’s landscape has been fixed.

So while Kieran and Oscar still have their separate duties, they also have more time to think about one another.

In Kieran’s mind, he begins to miss the competitive rivalry he had with Oscar, and, believing that Oscar must be bored without any purpose in his life (purposefully ignoring the fact that the Greil Mercs still do take mercenary jobs on the side when they can), Kieran decides that this is the perfect opportunity to attempt to get Oscar to join the royal knights again!

As for Oscar, he finds himself surprised by the fact that he actually… misses Kieran? So when Kieran starts seeking Oscar out again, Oscar finds that he enjoys Kieran’s company more than he imagined he ever could.

Additionally, Oscar is starting to realize some things. It seems like there might be some truth to the rumors that Kieran’s supposed hatred of him is in fact a thinly veiled attempt to conceal his very real attraction to Oscar. And while flattered, Oscar doesn’t initially see himself as someone who could return those feelings.

And it’s not bc Oscar isn’t into men. I hc him as bisexual, and him being very comfortable with that identity, though due to his private nature, he tends not to talk about it.

So it’s not that he is put off by the idea of dating a man. Especially a man as handsome as Kieran.

It’s only… well, Oscar still really doesn’t know how to feel about Kieran’s rivalry shtick. To what extend is Kieran being genuine? Does he not realize how ridiculous he sounds? What would it take for Kieran to finally acknowledge his true feelings for what they are?

It’s more than Oscar can handle, especially when his main priority is supporting his family.

And if he occasionally wonders what it would be like to actually spend time with Kieran as a lover, rather than a “rival”, well, nobody else needs to know.

Then comes the day Ike decides to throw away his noble title and return to the simple life of a mercenary, far away from the viper’s den that is the Crimean court. And while part of Oscar is reluctant to leave Melior, he won’t abandon his family.

Unfortunately, Ike’s decision coincides with Kieran’s group being out on a mission for several days, so Oscar doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

But it’s okay, he thinks. Kieran probably won’t even notice his absence.

And, well, it does take a week or two for Kieran to start wondering why he hasn’t bumped into Oscar recently, but once he discovers the truth, he is overcome with a flurry of emotions he doesn’t understand. He feels betrayed and hurt, though he tries to mask it as anger. Over time, his fury fades, leaving him apathetic. His usual fiery spark has all but vanished.

Luckily, Lucia picks up on Kieran’s switch in attitude quickly, and informs her brother. Cue Geoffrey’s awkward but sincere attempts to cheer Kieran up.

No, Geoffrey does not know why Kieran seems so upset over having lost his rival. But that doesn’t stop him from having Kieran’s back.

Then the events in the first part of RD happen. By the time Oscar and Kieran reunite, the latter is back to his usual, cheerful self, whereas Oscar realizes yet again how much he has missed Kieran’s presence in his life.

Aaand, I think I covered everything!! I hope this is what you were looking for~

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ jiyan, for cal ] It's during a tranquil night while patrolling with the mercenary leader that the general- no, that Jiyan voices something that has been troubling him. "Being with you and thinking of you are as easy as breathing. It feels natural, to the point I don't remember how it used to be before that. But finding a reason for why that is feels like trying to put together a thousand pieces puzzle. I didn't know my mind could be so complicated." That last sentence is said with a hint of amusement, the sides of his mouth curving into a smile. Surely, Calcharo will be amused by how perplexing and senseless his revelation is, too. He... doesn't even know why he's sharing something so personal in the first place. It makes no sense, he makes no sense. He knows this, and yet... "And yet, as perplexing as it is, it doesn't displease me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I look forward to seeing and spending time with you more each time and, before I realize it, you're present in my thoughts more as well. I'm not keen on distractions, but it's different when it comes to you. Why? I have no idea." A short-lived laugh passes his lips then. Really, what prompted him to talk of things he hasn't figured out on his own yet? Is he looking for help, an answer, anything? He can't say for sure either. "Laugh if you wish, I'm aware that I'm not making any sense right now."

VERY RARELY DID CALCHARO patrol with another person. Most of the time, he often did this alone as he felt he needed no assistance with such an endeavor. For years he had monitored Huanglong like a distant shadow, Jinzou most especially, when the TD outbreaks were at their worst. His Hounds had long since ceased asking if he wanted company, all of them knowing full well that he would be quick to turn them down and continue on his way. How surprising it was, then, that he was out here with Jiyan of all people, when hardly anyone could so much as convince him otherwise. Perhaps he reached this decision merely because he knew of how stubborn the General was, and that refusing him would be met with deaf ears. That, or maybe it was just that no resources would be wasted because Jiyan was outside of his command. He could only assume these were the case…even if being confused about your own thoughts and questioning it seemed…peculiar in itself.

     It was a quiet night, the stars gleaming as brightly as they often did, the air pleasant and cool as a reminder of falls approach. Everything had been quiet as it normally was…up until Jiyan broke that silence with his words. Frowning slightly, he turned his head a little to look at the other from the corner of his eye, confused about the words that passed his lips. What was said mirrored how he felt as well, which in itself, perplexed him all the more with each uttered word. He enjoyed being with Jiyan -- this he could not tell himself otherwise. He wasn’t sure when the other managed become a normalcy within his mind the way they did as of late, though it seemed he wasn’t the only one who was attempting to decipher the ‘why’ of it. Sometimes he found himself glancing off into the distance, wondering how he was doing back at Norfall Barrens, pondering if that stubborn general was pushing himself to do a thousand things in a single day. He shouldn’t care – he didn’t, he liked to tell himself. What Jiyan did, did not affect his work in any way, shape, or form. At the end of the day, he and his Ghost Hounds would still be paid, contracts still fulfilled.

     Ah…but considering Jiyan was the one who hired them in the first place, if something did happen to him, that meant that their contract would be null and void. He'd lose an excellent business opportunity and would have very little reason to remain unless someone else opted to hire him and his people’s services. There was a logical explanation for all this, he liked to tell himself on a regular basis, Calcharo constantly putting reasons to things that still left him feeling uncertain at the end of the day (because he needed explanations -- he needed it all to make sense when it felt senseless). Glancing away, he felt that unfamiliar feeling well up in him again: embarrassment. How could anyone just rattle off words like this? Even he, as blunt as he was, would have kept all this to himself as long as it did not interfere with his work. Quiet still, he mulled over what was said, pondered his own feelings, but found at the heart of it, they held a similarity. ❝You give absolutely no lead up into whatever is floating about in that mind of yours, do you?❞

     None whatsoever.

     How was one even supposed to prepare for what passed those lips when there was no warning in the slightest? Letting out a small huff of either exasperation, or amusement, it was hard to tell as he turned his gaze back to Jiyan. ❝You are the strangest client I have ever had, and I have gone through many. Although…I can say that you are the first I have found myself thinking about every now and then as well. Like yourself, I dislike distractions and prefer to focus on my work. Everything else outside of that can be cast aside until the later hours of the night.❞ And though he did do that when it came to this man – alarmingly so, at the same time, he found his thoughts wandering during the day as well at the most random of times. ❝But…I do find your presence enjoyable in a way that I’m not used to with other people outside my Ghost Hounds. Talking to you like this, face to face rather than through a terminal or letter, has become a routine that I have long since factored into my schedule.❞ One that he, oddly enough, looked forward to. He paused, glancing away. ❝Do know this information does not factor into a discount.❞

[cxpperhead]

🔪 - @umbrellamedic

Send 🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body.

Traitors are a hazard in whatever occupation they hold but they are even more dangerous when they're in a vital position. Unfortunately for Umbrella, Dr. Lauren Doyle just so happened so be one of those people and had been playing the long game for quite some time now, establishing herself as a pioneering researcher in newer and ever more deadly viruses - not for Umbrella's benefit but purely her own, and was now ready to cut and run with everything to elsewhere. Wherever that place was, it had to be offering some serious money for the good doctor to turn like this. Hell, she might even had been in it for the long run right from the start, a rogue planted to get that sweet information from within but whatever her reasons, Dr. Doyle had hidden her betrayal well and had been plotting to abscond while Umbrella had it's hands full dealing with another viral spill - her last 'gift' to the company, as it were. At least, that had been her plan. Cause a mess, escape during the chaos and fly away on a private chopper to safety with years of research iunder her belt so she can sell it on to the highest bidder and enjoy a comfortable retirement somewhere Umbrella can't reach her, but Umbrella was not so easily given the slip and Dr. Doyle's plot had fallen through. In fact, Dr. Doyle never even made if off the island before the U.S.S. Delta Team had been assigned to the case. The company given a quiet head's up by one of the small fry working there that Doyle had looked down upon. Too insignificant to worry about, she'd deemed, a decision which would come back to haunt her. However skilled Umbrella's mercenaries were, most of them are still human at the end of the day, and dealing with other humans could make progress difficult when they were as clever as the wily doctor. Locking down the facility had been her Hail Mary when the current infection had little time to work it's magic and Umbrella had sent in seasoned fighters used to cleaning up such messes, but access to the heliport was another story, and that was where the Wolfpack's real job came in. Copperhead ascended the tower easily, making use of the vents and all manners of typically inaccessable places to get to the airport before Dr. Doyle could get away. Any other bioweapons he crossed paths with were ripped to pieces, the snake-like monstrosity disappearing offscreen in nightmarish fashion whenever Doyle checked security, her confidence soon wilting when she realized the Wolfpack wasn't alone and had brought their own monster along on the job. Which was how BERTHA had found Copperhead, inside the waiting chopper with a dead pilot and the good doctor having met her end in his coils. The pilot had been strangled from behind, his protective gear doing nothing against the serpent's strength and as for Doyle, her face was a mask of frozen terror, bloodshot eyes bursting out of their sockets in comical fashion...

He flickers his tongue in recognition as BERTHA enters the chopper, killer beast now sitting docile and calm next to the stolen briefcase holding such precious contents. The fragile vials of fresh virus, papers and USB sticks - all were intact, safe and sound before the doctor had dropped them in shock, or one final act of spite against Umbrella's retribution. To think if the esteemed Dr. Doyle had been a little more patient or gracious, she might actually have gotten away with it, but the mission had been a rousing success - at least, if orders hadn't been to bring her in alive. Her heavily swollen, purple face spoke volumes that she'd met quite a merciless end at Umbrella's newest Bioweapon and it had not been painless.

[virologikal]

Headcanons posted for my works of fiction are merely my interpretation of the respective character(s) and should not be considered as "single point of truth".

⸻ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊: 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭

After delivering the hazardous tank left in his care by Umbrella to Rockfort Island in December 1998, which gave HUNK a distinct feeling of his and his team’s life and safety not being particularly important to Umbrella, he wrote a note informing his employer both of the successful delivery as well as asking them to, in the future, enclose better information and detail on transportations like these.

This mission was the last HUNK agreed to work for Umbrella.

He cut ties almost simultaneously to the stock market crash that rendered the company almost immovable on the market and would later cause them to shut down completely.

In the aftermath of his employ to Umbrella, HUNK - while still in demand for his excellent skills - had to lay low for a while in turn to let the worst of the corporation crashing down blow over. Knowing that he had insight on some of Umbrella’s darkest secrets along with having worked for them in the first place, he decided the most sensible move was to head to Europe.

He tried living a normal civilian's life for about two years in which he remained mostly secluded. Unable to shake his past and what it made of him, he kept as close an eye as he could on both the trial Umbrella was faced with, as well as the general worldwide arms race which unfolded in the wake of it.

Knowing in his heart he was only truly good on the battle field, he finally decided to not let his talents go to waste. During the past years he had privately developed the Close Quarters Quarantined Battle Zone fighting technique, which he perfected by 2003, including custom-made equipment and weapons.

It was during this time that a secret underground organization contacted him while he was headed for a secluded area in Eastern Europe to hone his skills in colder terrains. A strange, massive man in a carriage who mysteriously made his way through the wilds approached him, handing him a sealed letter.

Both the contents of the letter as well as what they talked about as they shared a meal by the camp fire are unknown, but the encounter would change the former military man's life. Learning the secret skills of the trade, he found himself convinced that his skill on the battle field could not only be used for killing, but for supporting, maybe even helping those in need. To not just take life, but being able to preserve it.

In 2004 HUNK took on the guise of a merchant for the first time, sent out by the merchants guild - an organisation which closely monitored the most endangered places worldwide, sending their representatives there to collect rare goods as well as sell their skills and items.

Traveling to a remote village in Southern Europe, he so happened to run into individuals like Ada Wong, Leon S. Kennedy and others of their kind, selling them much needed ammunition during their mission in regards to the Las Plagas incident. It almost felt fated to him, he occasionally mused privately, how he would meet the individuals he knew had been in Raccoon City, where it all began, at the same time he had been there.

Collecting his own information on the side to later sell to a highest bidder, no one ever connected the merchant hiding most of his face behind a thick shawl to the mercenary named HUNK.

Note: Among other things, HUNK learned various skills to alter his appearance and even change his voice (think of the skills some voice actors have). Additionally, he may sometimes use devices hidden in his shawls to change his voice and make it even less recognizable.

[talktomeinclexa]

The Royal Guard

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mild violence

Status: WIP

Summary: Princess Clarke of Arkadia is kidnapped by mercenaries while on a visit to one of the kingdom's cities. Her abductors treat her well enough, but everything becomes more complicated when their client orders them to execute her. Lexa thought this was just another job. High risk, high pay. But when push comes to shove, will she betray her orders or her heart?

***

Chapter 1: Kidnapping

The rain fell on the windows with lazy regularity, drawing random patterns on the glass. Her Royal Highness Princess Clarke, the oldest daughter of King Jacob and Queen Abigail, stood behind it, face turned toward the outside to admire the old city’s architecture.

Contrary to the capital, a modern and fast-paced urban center peppered with prestigious hotels and tech companies, Reim offered a quieter, more human-sized environment. Several parks invited families and young couples to relax during the warmer months, and cruises on the canal traversing the city from west to east delighted both locals and tourists. However, the Princess’s favorite attraction remained the Art Museum, an imposing neo-Gothic building hosting the largest collection of paintings and sculptures in Arkadia.

Freeing two hours between her speech at a newly opened hospital in the morning and her visit to the orphanage in the afternoon had required some juggling and careful planning. But the “Nature” exhibit alone — soon set to leave for the Louvre — was well worth the trouble. It was merely unfortunate the rain started while she admired the earthy-toned pieces and that the museum’s parking lot was located outside.

“Would you like to remain here longer, Your Highness? The rain might yet abate.”

Clarke turned toward Major Byrne, the head of her bodyguards, and shook her head. “No. We have already postponed the arrival at the orphanage so that I could enjoy this visit. I will not have the children wait any longer because I did not want to get wet. Let’s go.”

The older woman nodded, knowing she had a better chance of altering the weather with her mind than convincing the princess to reconsider. They would have to stride to cross the 50 meters separating them from the two reinforced cars.

Dante Wallace, the curator and an old friend of the royal family, walked them back toward the entrance, chatting amicably with Clarke as they went. He had been kind enough to give her a tour while the museum was closed to the public for the day, a favor she would not soon forget.

For a man well into his sixties, he retained a light gait and a juvenile enthusiasm that made his pale blue eyes twinkle. It was no wonder the princess — a talented artist and art aficionado herself — appreciated his company.

“Thank you for the invitation today, Mr. Wallace,” Clarke said with a smile as they walked through the 20th century exhibit leading to the staircase. “I had a marvelous time and would have been chagrined to miss this exhibit.”

The man bowed low, his pale skin reddening. “The pleasure was all mine, Your Highness. It isn’t every day that I have the chance to discuss those masterpieces in such enjoyable company. I hope you will visit us again soon.”

“Me too, Mr. Wallace. Me too.”

As a member of the royal family and heiress to the throne of a small European country, the young woman’s schedule left little room for personal interests and downtime. Inaugurations, visits to hospitals and other charitable works, local and international trips… Since her 21st birthday, her parents had taken to delegate more obligations to her — officially so she could prepare for the day she would rule. Five years later, she wondered if they didn’t also appreciate the extra help. There was only so much two — or even three — people could do. Clarke looked forward to the day her sister Madison would take on some responsibilities too, which would hopefully free some of her afternoons for museum visits and painting.

Despite her resolve to resume her official program of the day, Clarke couldn’t help but stop before one last painting. A 48″ X 70″ portrait of her paternal grandparents on their wedding day immortalized 60 years before. The artist had managed to capture Queen Rose’s kind and shy nature, the white of her dress making her blond hair look golden. Sitting, she stared at her new husband with the devotion befitting a wife. King Conrad, on the other hand, looked stern in his royal uniform, standing ramrod straight, a sword at his side.

Keep reading

[wikifido]

Chapter 1 (Duvanith)

The jungle air, dense with humidity, had followed Duvanith inside the Wacuīchextell Cuimācnāl; the sun, however, hadn’t. 

“By the Gods, it’s fucking hot.” she says through a squint, allowing her eyes to adjust both as a means of changing the subject regarding Mwaxanare’s empty threat of an arranged marriage for Karoleena and honest complaining. 

“It’s almost always this hot this time of year, or have you forgotten?” Mwaxanare asks back as they walk past a set of saluting guards and onto the street. 

Duvanith walks alongside her, just slightly behind, four steps like Mwaxanare had asked, instructed, and said was proper for a Champion to do. Despite the tension between them over Karoleena's presence in Neparāticue she still wanted to show Mwaxanare that she was here for her both generally and as Champion.  

“Apologies, I was dead there for a minute and then off the Peninsula.” Duvanith quips back. 

She, of course, knew that it was hot in Cholit; she had marched through the jungle for months before ‘being dead for a minute’ verbally complaining about it had always just given her some level of catharsis.

Mwaxanare scoffs and then changes the subject.This is how it had been since she came ashore and Coaxach dragged her in front of Mwaxanare with Karoleena in tow. Duvanith had never felt embarrassment like that before; she knew that Mwaxanare knew who Karoleena was before Duvanith ‘had been dead for a minute’ the waters of the ancient and enchanted urn that now adorned the backdrop of Mwaxanare’s seat of power in Neparāticue had laid bare parts of her past that Mwaxanare had been present for while her Adventuring Company searched for answers to the Wasting Curse with it’s magic. 

Parts of her past that involved Karoleena.  

“We need to position a garrison at Waxilomxitetl, or at least until the Sultanate can provide their own security.” 

“Should be easy enough.” Duvanith casually says, “What agreement did you come to with the Sultan?” Neparāticue, formerly Port Currington, was an architectural and city planning disaster. Its streets are lined with a hodge podge of building shapes and sizes, all contrasting each other with varying build styles and materials. One could see an old Choiltan-built structure that was easily one hundred years old directly next to something that easily could have been plucked from Askerstad’s middle district built a few years ago, the mortar between the red bricks already degrading. 

It had looked this way when Duvanith had arrived during the height of the Wasting Curse, albeit with Imperial-backed Cabal mercenaries patrolling the streets in place of the ragged band of Cholit natives that had rallied behind Mwaxanare to drive them out while she was cold dead under the old Kwtēntāmtāxi Palace.  

They turn into a large gated courtyard with a ring of glitzy buildings with distinctly Imperial architecture. 

“Voidstone mining rights in exchange for Ilmerryite.” 

Duvanith ponders this for a moment. They, the new Royal Government of Choilit, didn’t need any more Ilmerryite. She was sure that Mwaxanare kept a small stock if anything happened to someone like Coaxach or her, but there wasn’t a massive need for the material. However, from her brief time in the Empire, she knew the sprawling Courts of both the Imperial Palace and the Baronys were in a soft power struggle over access to Ilmerryite. 

“For export, I assume?” Duvanith asks, having already figured out what Mwaxnanare was planning. 

“My uncle will be quite upset with me working around his Imperial Export ban, but anything to get-” Mwaxanare stops and composes herself amidst her frustration. “Solve my Imperial Royal problem.” 

Duvanith knew Mwaxanare phrased her frustration this way to stop her from coming to Karoleena’s defense; it was without a doubt that Karoleena was an Imperial Royal, and her presence here was problematic.

Mwaxanare raps her knuckles against the ornately carved wooden door of the residence where Karoleena had been staying. The door opens swiftly after the knock; Karoleena at this point, knew the visits for lunch were part of Mwaxanare and Duvanith's daily schedule. 

“Good afternoon!” Karoleena tosses her arm to the side to gesture the two inside. She has a smudge on her cheek, and Duvanith scans the area beyond. On the table where they usually sat for the mid-day meal was the husk of what had once been a small voidstone engine with its innards spread around the polished surface. 

“Doing some tinkering?” Duvanith asks, motioning at the cluttered table. It had been strange learning about Karoleena’s interest in the Voidstone-powered technologies that the Marvelmaker’s Temple regulated; before she had become a political prisoner, she had been giving tours through Temple’s museum. It wasn’t a fascination she had remembered from when they were girls at Court. It had been all structured gowns, horse riding, and dance. Duvanith had been the weird one with her love of archery. Still, Karoleena had always been supportive, even going so far as to have Palace workers convert a riding pitch into a range one of the days her father left for a long case in another Barony to cheer her up.     

“Yes!” Karoleena says excitedly, “You all have a set of Pick Spanners.”

Duvanith nods along knowingly; the wrenches were a heavily regulated toolset allowed only to be used by the makers and repairers of the Marvelmaker’s Temple. They had come into ownership of a set after Mwaxanare’s rise to power and expelled the Imperial Government.

“They left them during the Imperial rout from the Port. We thought you might enjoy them,” Mwaxanare says matter of fact. Karoleena let out a nervous laugh; Duvanith could tell Karoleena wasn’t sure if Mwaxanare’s comment surrounding the ‘Imperial Rout’ was supposed to be a joke. Likewise, she wasn’t sure why Mwaxanare used ‘We’; did she mean the entirety of Neparāticue, or did she mean it as ‘Mwaxanare and Duvanith’ and even inside of that, was it ‘we’ as Queen and Champion or ‘we’ as a couple.

No matter which it was, Duvanith certainly hadn’t been asked or told about the Pick Spanners before seeing them spread out over the once Imperial Providential Governor's ornately carved dining table. Mwaxanare had them and the small engine brought over after Karoleena’s impassioned rant about Voidrail Engines Wheel Independent Motors. 

It appealed to Karoleena and kept her inside, a win for Mwaxanare.  

“So it’s made for a good time sink?” Duvanith intercedes

“Very.” Karoleena says proudly before conceding, “I think the hard part might be putting it back together, though.”

[sunflower-dancing]

I’d just like to introduce an OC very close to me that I’ve never had the pleasure to write with anyone besides 1 or 2 others. Hikaru, who goes by Ru. Your local aspiring playwright who works as an Inn waitress in late 15th-early 16th century

If you wanna know more send me asks! 

Name: Hikaru* 

Nickname: Ru

Age: Late teens, early 20’s (specific age unknown)

DOB: Unknown 

Species: Human 

Ability: Healing

Height: 5’0” ( 152 cm)

Ethnicity: Japanese

Current City: London

Job: Waitress, Author (on the side)

Bio: Hikaru was around 6 or 7 when she ran away. Coming from a poor fishing village, the young child refused to be married into a wealthier family and so she snuck to the docks and hid among the cargo until eventually they reached a port. She climbs out, starving and sick and ends up wandering the streets of London before finding herself in a small country side. She’s taken in by an older couple.

The couple had recently lost their child and took her in. There was one other in the village across from their own, who was from her home country and she too escaped. They taught her English, and eventually Hikaru grew to have a few happy years. She is about 11 or 12 when the nobles came. The village of farmers often rented their lands from nobles and when they could no longer pay up, the village was burned. People were slaughtered or ran but she was asleep during the initial and ended up being awaken by her adopted mother. The woman died from smoke inhalation and covered Hikaru’s mouth with a scarf. 

In a panic, seeing the nearby village on fire, the young teen who had become Hikaru’s surrogate older sibling, rushes over, and upon finding her collapsed body starts to shake her, screaming. Hikaru was dragged out, but much like the adopted mother, the other woman inhaled far too much and suffered burns trying to free Hikaru from the mass damage. She doesn’t remember much of what happened except crying out and shocking green eyes that looked sad. 

She awakens in an inn in london, bandage around her right eye and arms, suffering very thankfully few minor burns. She earns her keep and eventually becomes apprenticed to as local apothecary. Hikaru’s talent for healing was not unnoticed by her teacher and that’s when she started realizing, perhaps she was not normal. Soon her wounds healed, but she could no longer see clearly out of her right eye, which had been damaged by embers getting into it. 

Her life is a blur, but eventually she is taken in by a very well off Noble and soon begins to live a lift of comfort, but it’s not what she wanted… to be caged. So she ran off, many more times than she can count, but she was always returned, always punished. Unless the noble had company she was more often then not left alone or called upon for more physical needs that had to be met. She made friends with two mercenaries, and sometimes they would kidnap her, but it was no more than a day and a promise to return. 

She was happier with them, but found herself unable to truly keep from her master, her lover. He was hypnotic in a way that drew her in, kept her wanting his touch: both the pleasurable and painful. 

Note: Can’t think much past this, but this is the briefest gloss over for her past I can think of. 

Note 2: *Hikaru grew up in a time where last names were not really given, and when she left her homeland she left most of her past behind, hence she no longer recalls her family name.

Note 3: Modern times you can find her working as a waitress. 

[christiancoledragavei]

Christian Cole Dragavei

CHRISTIAN COLE DRAGAVEI Username: @RunedShadows FC: Hero Fiennes Tiffin Birth Name: Christian Cole Dragavei Alias(es): Cole Dragavei, Cole, Christian Cole. Nicknames: Cole, Char-Cole, Chrissy. Status: Alive Species: Demon/Nephilim.

BASIC INFO: Agє: 33 D.O.B: 12/08/1991 Birth Location: London, England Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Relationship Status: Taken - Also a widow. Occupation: Downworlder Mercenary. Astrological Sign: Sagittarius

Skills: Reading, Cooking, Drawing, Painting, Hunting, Tracking and Fighting. ⤅ Chrisitan very much enjoys reading.

Fluent Languages: English, French and Russian. ⤅ When Christian was thirteen, he spent three years in Russia learning about the culture, art and many other things. He learned how to speak Russian from a tutor his parents had hired during the entirety of those three years, which at first came very naturally to him. His father was originally from Russia, which could have been the reason as to why it came so naturally to him. His mother was English from London.

DESCRIPTION / APPEARANCE: Height: 6 Feet & 2 Inches Hair Color: Charcoal Black Eye Color: Baby Blue & Black Skin Tone: Pale - White. Other: Slim, Muscular, Tattooed ⤅ Christian is nicely dressed, simple. He usually prefers to wear black. His clothing mostly consists on black or white shirts with lettering, tight black skinny jeans, a pair of Vans sneakers. This attire is his choice of clothing when operating his book store compared to his attire of his lawyer job. ⤅ A nice black suit, often black pants and a dress shirt with a tie will do the trick, is Christian’s choice of attire when at his professional job. He doesn’t like wearing it often simply for the fact that, as a child, ⤅ ⤅ Christian was often required to wear a uniform at the private school his parents forced him to attend. ⤅ Christian has a wide variety of tattoos that decorate his body. Most of them are from his years of traveling the world during his teenage years. Others are from important periods or memories in his lifetime. ⤅ One of Christian’s favorite tattoos are of four intertwining hearts with vines that rest just on the outside of his heart located on his upper chest. Each of the hearts represent a family member that was killed when he was a child. His mother, father and his baby brother before he’d even been born yet. The last heart represents his son Dimitri, who’d passed away a few hours just after having been born to his ex husband Sam. ⤅ Another one of his favorite tattoos is the one along his upper chest. The tattoo is the name of his son Dimitri. This tattoo was done in secret from his ex husband after they divorced. Dimitri was Christian’s second chance, but was taken too soon from him.

PERSONALITY / ATTITUDE: ⤅ For most of Christian’s life he’s been raised in Russia and England , which is why he had an accent. His adoptive parents sent him away to a private boarding school for his early childhood as well as his teen years. ⤅ Christian can be very shy at first but once someone gets to know him or he gets to know someone on a personal level he can be quite talkative, in a good way. ⤅ Christian has manners. He is a gentleman, respectful and charming. ⤅ Christian is kind hearted, loving and open. ⤅ Sometimes, when his limits are pushed, Christian can develop an attitude though usually it's gone within hours. ⤅ Christian rarely ever opens up about his past, not even with those he’s known for years.

LIKES: ⤅ Christian LOVES reading books. You can always find books throughout his house, on the nightstand in his bedroom and even in the kitchen. ⤅ His favorite types of books are adventure, traveling, romance and horror. ⤅ He loves traveling, especially with company. ⤅ Places that he had visited over the years: ★ Russia ★ Australia ★ Ireland ★ Spain ★ Belize ★ Italy ★ Canada ★ England ★ France ★ Idris ★ Heaven & Hell ⤅ He /loves/ chocolate cupcakes. Give him a cupcake and he will be your best friend. ⤅ His favorite kind of cupcake is dark chocolate with peanut butter frosting. ⤅ He loves hugs. Any kind of hugs to be honest. He loves giving them as well. Big teddy bear hugs are his favorite. ⤅ He loves nature, camping and being with wild animals. ⤅ He /loves/ animals. He has a siverian husky named Caesar. He also had a black kitten named Lucifer and a little orange kitten named Michael. ⤅ The love he has for his pets is beyond anything imaginable. ⤅ He loves tattoos. He has well over 25 of them by which are mixed in with many runes that he has on his skin from over the years.

DISLIKES: ⤅ He dislikes disrespectful people. ⤅ He /very much/ dislikes liars and people who steal. ⤅ He dislikes people who cheat on others. ⤅ He dislikes talking about his past because it’s filled with death of the ones closest to him. ⤅ He dislikes when people judge him before even taking the chance to get to know him.

FAMILY: Father (Biological) (Human): Rémi Dragavei (Deceased) Mother (Biological) (Human): Ella Dragavei (Deceased) Brother (Biological) (Human/Demon): Elijah Rowen Dragavei (@UnhallowedSouls) (Alive) Brother (Adoptive) (Wolf) Sammy Mclean (@_Sammy) (Alive - Unknown) Nephew by @_Sammy (Adoptive) (Human): David (@LittleShyDavid) (Alive - Unknown) Daughter by Mel: Deceased Ex-Husband (Angel): Sam (@StarAngcl) (Deceased) Son by @StarAngcl (Biological): Dimitri Soul Dragavei (Deceased) Unborn Daughter by @StarAngcl Illiana Dragavei (Deceased) Partner: @herlxstful_mind (Current - Alive)

[maintitle]

I couldn't find my tagged post with my DA protagonist ages, so I had to redo the math, and I am constantly surprised that my Warden is the youngest and my Hawke is the oldest.

The Dalish origin heavily implies that your Dalish is extremely young, so I guess about 19, which means they're only 43 in Veilguard. My Inquisitor is my oldest protagonist in terms of the events of the games at 31, as she had a fairly successful lead mercenary company role and multiple previous companies before the Inquisition, so she'd be 44.

DA2 heavily implies Hawke is about 24-26, so I go for the medium of 25. That means she was 36/37 when she got lost in the Fade, and would've been 49 by the events of Veilguard. To put that in perspective, my Warden would be ONE YEAR YOUNGER than my Inquisitor during the events of Inquisition.

These ages honestly accidentally say a lot about my characters. Vehra Mahariel had the weight of all of Thedas on his shoulders before he even entered his twenties, and he had that weight while he also suffered the after-effects of having the Blight long before The Joining. That really informs his attitude toward the job, very matter-of-fact, very flat in tone. He had to make hard decisions at an extremely young age, and that often lead him to making cold hard choices. His conscious was present but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to cut corners, get his hands dirty, or make personal sacrifices in his happiness or friendships in order to get things done. He lost his entire life, and losing that life left him hyper focused on being a Warden, and it wasn't until he got to sit down for a second after Amaranthine that he realized the mental trauma he went through at such a young age.

Lyla Hawke is somehow the oldest of my characters, and yet the least mature. My Hawke absolutely could not have been the Warden or the Inquisitor. She's not diplomatic, she's somewhat calloused and uses humor to deflect the raw nerves underneath, and she values her friendships over most other things. It's not until the very end of DA2 where she has to make an actual self-sacrificial decision that challenged her moral center in killing her friend or risking a divine march on her home, and I think it cut her to her core. My Hawke is a ball of unresolved trauma, from her family right down to her relationship with a woman who sometimes is lost in what she herself has lost. Where she still outside of the fade, I'm not sure what person she would be. During Inquisition she still hadn't untangled the trauma that Kirkwall did to her, and I do wonder if she could while pushing 50.

Inquisitor Hissera Adaar was a warrior and mercenary and not much else before the Inquisition, it was what she was raised to be by her ex-Qunari Father, and it's work she took pride in. Her story isn't one of growing and maturing, she was already at that point by the beginning of the game. Her story was of self-sacrifice, a battle against identity and her slow growth to fill the role she fell into. She's even-headed, willing to make sacrifices, incredibly talented as a leader, quick to learn but strong in her moral core. That maturity and ability to be malleable helped her survive a job she wouldn't have taken herself, allowing her story to much more be carrying the weight of the politics and morality of vast information networks, both aspects of the job she abhors, and yet becomes talented in. After Inquisition much of her story is balancing the chase for Solas and her need to stand beside her lover as an important diplomatic figure, while also refinding the part of herself she lost along the way secretly in the night.

This is why I need multiple playthroughs to get my characters right. All of this came organically through perfecting the characters and the story they're within. Those ages are a fantastic tell as to who they are, and it's fascinating to see how vastly different they were in age and maturity when the weight fell on their shoulders.

[enigmaincrimson]

Thinking on the Freedom Planet verse as well...

Considering her background, she'd definitely know where everyone in Team Lilac is coming from... But what of more personal relationships?

In spite of some playful teasing, Neera would find she's usually quite patient and easygoing... Even if she has her own trust issues.

Evelyn is still trying to get that panda to smile though...

No idea what someone like Askal would think of her... Like... She's young, but she's not like any dragon he's met... And can throw back his punches as easily as he can dish them.

Considering that Evelyn did spend some time in Parusa after the whole thing with Brevon... I wonder if they tried to recruit her for the whole... Plan?

Corazon might have tried to hire her a few times during the time gap between FP1 and FP2... Although she wasn't at all interested.

I mean... There's a difference between retrieving lost artifacts for history record and being a sky pirate/mercenary.

Spade has likely had similar frustrations as she refuses to join the Red Scarves for similar reasons.

She also finds his attitude rather... Disappointing... Even if she does get where he's coming from... Although she is wondering how a prince ended up there in the first place.

She does get along well with King Dail and will gladly give his little brother a smacking if he asked... The frustration is kinda mutual.

Evelyn is typically quite patient with Mayor Zao... Even if he does come up with some rather ridiculous schemes at times.

She's a bit tempted to get him a fancy pair of stilts... Just to see how everyone else might react.

Evelyn hasn't met the Magister personally... But she does get along with General Gong... Even if she does have to usually tone things down when they spar.

She's gotten pretty good at fixing the shields she's smashed over the years.

I'd imagine that Captain Kalaw has something of a hate/appreciate relationship with Evelyn... It's her work with the robots that helped him become the Battlesphere champion, but at the same time... They are technically scraps from someone else's adventures.

I have no idea if he ever listened to her stories at all... But it would add to his jealous frustration. He's a man that didn't get to become the hero he wanted to be, so... It probably added to that.

Neera and Evie having tea and discussing their friends wouldn't be a surprising activity between them.

While Milla and Evie would definitely bond over science and alchemy... She's probably going to leave out what she's hearing from that stump.

Trying to come up with a canine safe chocolate replacement so she could have S'mores with everyone is something of a side project.

While I could see her bonding with Carol over pranks... Mechanical things like bikes probably comes up as well... I'm still working out the details.

Lilac probably enjoys Evelyn's company... Even if she probably reminds her of Neera sometimes... And it's probably nice being around another dragon that she can talk to.

Merga... There might be a mutual understanding if the tension wasn't there. Although, she really doesn't support the whole... Revenge plan... She does know where she's coming from.

As for Lord Brevon... If it weren't for the other things going on at the time... He wouldn't have been so lucky and gotten away.

Hm...

[cyberbenb]

PEN Ukraine and Truth Hounds Statement Regarding Russian Missile Strike On Kramatorsk

On June 27th, 2023, Russia committed another war crime, sending an Iskander missile with a highly explosive warhead at Ria Lounge restaurant in Kramatorsk, a city in the Eastern part of Ukraine. 

At least 12 people are confirmed dead, and 60 are wounded. Three children were among the dead, including two twin 14-year-old girls.

Among the people severely wounded in this crime is our dearest colleague Victoria Amelina: a brilliant award-winning, worldwide known Ukrainian writer and human rights activist who spent her time since the beginning of the full-scale invasion documenting war crimes, working with children on frontline territories, and striving to revive a literary festival that she had founded in the town of New York in Eastern Ukraine (now on the frontline). Both PEN Ukraine and Truth Hounds have traveled with Victoria many times to frontline territories, and her work has always aroused admiration. Together with Truth Hounds documenters, she came to the house of the family of Volodymyr Vakulenko, a Ukrainian writer unlawfully detained and killed by the Russian soldiers, as soon as Izyum was unoccupied. Due to her persistent search, his diary was found, which has now been published, and is another document of Russian war crimes. Now, Victoria has become a victim of a war crime herself. Doctors are fighting for her life. 

The Russians knew the Ria Lounge restaurant is a rare and popular place in the frontline city of Kramatorsk where people get together to talk and have their meals. They knew the strike would have many victims — but they targeted this crowd, as they have numerous times during this war, and during their previous wars. 

They did so previously in Kherson on December 24th, 2022, when they targeted a market full of people shopping, killing 10 people and wounding more than 60. They did so in the same Kramatorsk on April 8th, 2022, when they sent a missile to a crowd of people waiting for an evacuation train in a railway station, killing at least 61, and leaving over a hundred people wounded. They did so a year ago, by attacking a trade mall in Kremenchuk killing at least 20 people. They did so on March 9th, 2022, when they dropped huge bombs on two 5-story buildings in Izyum, killing dozens of people in each of the houses, even though they were hiding in the basements. They blew up the Nova Kakhovka dam on June 6th, 2023, causing a huge increase in water levels and the deaths of many people by drowning. The disastrous environmental consequences of this act will persist for many decades. The list of these crimes can go on and on. The shelling of the Kramatorsk Ria Lounge is another crime in this chain, and another evidence of the way Russians wage their wars. 

Immediately after the attack, Russian propagandists started to spread false narratives that the strike killed so-called foreign mercenaries. The next day, the Russian Ministry of Defense stated that the attack was carried out on the temporary headquarters of one of the Ukrainian Armed Forces brigades, and 2 Ukrainian generals, about 50 officers, and 20 mercenaries were killed as a result of it. 

Truth Hounds has interviewed eyewitnesses of the attack who testified that there were no military objects that could have been a legal target for the attack around that day. Also, they confirmed that it was a regular day in one of the most popular restaurants in the city: up to 40 people, divided into small companies, were having dinner. Truth Hounds investigators identified that the foreigners, whom Russian propaganda called mercenaries, actually were volunteers and journalists. 

Our other colleagues, the Colombian writer Hector Abad Faciolince, and the former High Commissioner for Peace, Sergio Jaramillo, who set up with other writers the campaign #AguantaUcrania to express Latin America’s support to the Ukrainian people, were also in the restaurant with Victoria Amelina. They are lightly injured. Journalist Catalina Gomez, who has been covering the Russian invasion of Ukraine since its very beginning for France 24, was also there and accompanied Victoria in an evacuation ambulance to the hospital. Sergio and Hector came to Ukraine despite the long distance that separates our countries to support humanity in its fight against barbarism. Their lives are not threatened.

Analysis of the destruction and witness testimonies indicate that, most likely, Russia’s Armed Forces used an Iskander missile to carry out the attack. This is a missile with a high accuracy, so Russians knew exactly what it would hit.

In our opinion, the attack on the Ria Lounge restaurant may qualify as a war crime pursuant to Article 8(2)(b)(ii) of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC). Alternatively, such an attack may be qualified under Article 8(2)(b)(i) or Article 8(2)(b)(iv) of the Rome Statute of the ICC.

Russia has proven once again that it does not care about civilians or international law. Every day this aggressor country continues to attack civilians in Ukraine. There are so many other stories, every day, every night, stories of people whose lives end, who will have no tomorrow, who will never respond. 

The current Russian state is a global perpetrator. It has been involved directly and in a hybrid way in many conflicts across the globe. The two main tasks of the world now are to stop the atrocities and to contribute to establishing justice. 

PEN Ukraine and Truth Hounds appeal to the citizens of all countries, human rights and cultural organisations of the world: use every platform to spread the information about Russia’s crimes and call on your national governments to activate extraterritorial justice mechanisms in order to bring justice to all victims of war crimes. Let’s put an end to Russia’s impunity together! 

Victims await justice. Prisons await criminals.    

It is not only about Ukrainians. It is about all humans and our values.