#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

[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.

[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

[dutybcrne]

Rehashing/Redoing Adelinde hcs, now updated to match info of the story:

She is, by birth, Snezhnayan. Her real name is Ada Dorokhova.

She had no family to speak of, save her brother, Lev Dorokhov older than her by five years. The two were raised to join the Fatui ranks, as they had no other family to turn to.

Addie's brother had gone on to become a Pyroslinger. She remained a low-ranking operative, as he kept insisting he didn't want her to take on more dangerous missions. She learned diplomacy and banking instead, as well as picking up the various languages of the other nations and intel-gathering.

She did however learn to use his gun, at his insistence. She became a far better shot than he, even able to shoot a Mora coin from considerable distance with ease. It was this skill that allowed her to join her brother's company, in spite of her lower rank.

While dispatched to Mond, she and Lev took to intermingling with the locals out of uniform. While it was clear they weren't locals, many assumed and were told they were Fontanian to make things easier on them. It was during these times and interacting with the Mondstadt people that her brother began to have doubts about the Fatui's cause and the things they were taught to believe about the other people. He began to think that they could run from the Fatui and live a peaceful life here in Mondstadt. Because of him, she almost began to contemplate such things too

While expressing these thoughts to her, their company leader had overheard and had him arrested, intent on sending him back to Snezhnaya. In the ensuing struggle, Lev had been killed by his fellow Fatui.

She had been beside herself with grief, but even seeing that and knowing just how close the two had been, their superior officer kept telling her it was for the best, as a traitor like that would only hinder their mission. It was that very grief that had her taking up her brother's gun and turning it against her own comrades, slaughtering them all in a fit of rage.

She can scarcely remember anything from her rampage, save her feelings of grief and anger. From the moment she picked up her brother's weapon and took the first shot through her company leader's head, it was all a murky fog.

She does remember coming to and meeting Crepus Ragnvindr however, having stumbled across the Dawn Winery in running from the Fatui's now ravaged camp. She almost killed him too, had his abrupt query about her well-being and clear distressed concern not caught her off-guard.

After he talked her down and hearing her tale, he first offered her his coat to stave off the cold, then a place in his staff and a home in his manor as he helped treat her wounds. She rejected it promptly, not trusting why he would offer such a kindness to a Fatuus, though him outright lying to the knights who happened upon them and the carnage she'd wrought, that she'd been a mercenary who protected him from the Fatui, had been enough to sway her to trust him more. Especially when he'd left his coat in her care, a last comfort he could offer her and a promise to meet again before they'd part.

It would take several meetings after that before she would take his hand and be led home. During that time, she changed her name to a more local-sounding one, and took to using his cover for her, working as a mercenary in the meantime, occasionally running into him at the Angel's Share whenever she'd stop by for business or leisure. Or to observe him and the sort of man he was, to chat with him endlessly whenever his foolish little sun-bright smile would bloom upon seeing her. Each and every time, he'd ask her to come home with him. Each and every time, she would refuse, and tease perhaps he could try better the next time.

She accepted a year after he'd first made his offer.

Apart from being hired as a maid, Adelinde had also served as Crepus' personal aid and guard. She worked hard to hone and maintain her skills in every aspect she could, taking to her role with utmost dedication. It was perhaps this that wound up leading the rest of the staff to fall in behind her without question, even after having been regarded with suspicion by them due to her sudden disappearance. After all, it became all too clear to them that everything she would say and do, it was all for the good of their master.

She did develop feelings for Crepus, but never acted on them, especially after he'd gotten together with Diluc's mother and the lad had been born. She never faulted him for it nor did she dwell on them, much less seek to have them recognized or returned. Rather, she used them as incentive to better care for him and the young boy, even after his mother was out of the picture. This arrangement felt much more comfortable and right to her, anyways. She would never have changed a thing, even looking back now.

She taught Diluc how to use a firearm, as her brother had her, at the curious child's request. Seeing the lad so hard at work to try and improve to match her her did remind her of him at times, which never failed to make her heart ache.

She helped train Elzer in the use of firearms as well, in addition to helping train him to manage the Winery while Diluc grew up. With Elzer, she gave him the extra learnings she'd picked up with the Fatui to ensure he would be the best possible servant for the Ragnvindrs. He is the sole living person in Mond who knows the full extent of her origin, Crepus having been such, previously.

The one who reminded Adelinde of her brother the most though was Kaeya. She saw it in the gentle kindness he exuded, in the love he gave, the shyness he carried himself with yet always pushing himself to stand proud beside his more confident sibling. She saw it in his sharp wit and love of stories, the way his eyes shined in excitement at each and every one. She will never admit it, even if prodded, but it is for that reason that he was her favorite of the two. Still, she doted on both equally, adoring them both with every ounce of love her heart could muster. They were as much family to her, as the others in the staff and Winery came to be.

She and Crepus were both aware of Kaeya's heritage, the man having confided to her that Kaeya's eyes resembled those of Khaenri'ahns from legends he'd read. They both resolved to let the boy come clean at his own pace, as they felt he deserved a home, regardless of his origin, just as she had been given that chance. She made the greatest efforts to ensure he felt as welcomed as she did, that he adjusted well and personally tutored him whenever he needed the extra help. Every effort she could give to make sure he would feel safe in this new home.

Addie did eventually admit her feelings for Crepus some time before Diluc's eighteenth birthday. She had never intended to, but has done so only because he had directly asked her regarding them, and she refused to lie or keep secrets from him. She never had, since the day she'd begun to work for him, after all. As happy as he had been to know of them, and as relieved as she had been to know he was alright with it, they were never truly able to navigate what could come out of them, as Crepus died soon after.

In learning of Diluc's intent to journey to Snezhnaya, she cashed in a few favors with her old mercenary buddies and a few Fatui folk she knew without shadow of a doubt she could still trust to have them look after him the best they could. No doubt he would be hard to locate, with what limited information she could have and provide, but if it could make the difference between life or death for him, she would take every measure she could.

She admitted as much to him when he returned, through relieved tears and choked sobs upon seeing him.

She was not only one of the first to learn of his intents to moonlight as a vigilante, but his greatest supporter. She resolved to ensure not a single alibi of his could slip, to ensure each and every one of the staff would remain nothing but loyal to him, and resolved to personally take care of any 'loose ends' should it really come down to it.

Adelinde has personally stopped many a home invader over the years, from the start of her service to Crepus, to the present day, and never fails to sleep without both her own and her brother's guns prepped and ready at her bedside. She also frequently patrols the manor in the late hours, and there are no shortage of guns specially hidden around the manor for her to make a grab for in emergencies.

No, she will Never tell Diluc where they all are.

[nncc77]

Okay, this is where things get complicated.

In my mind, the single defining moment of V's life is meeting Jackie Welles. Jackie's friendship lets V get a foothold in Night City, and ultimately leads to meeting Dexter Deshawn and the ill-fated Heist at Konpeki.

If Vincenzo, habitual runaway and former Bakker becomes 'the' V, that means his sisters never befriend Jackie. Perhaps they might have met, especially as Valerie ran with the Valentinos for a time as well, but they never became close enough friends to work together. If Valerie, habitual risk-taker and volcanic temper becomes 'the' V, that means Vincenzo never gets the job that leads him to Night City, and he spends what remains of his life an exiled nomad.

In either timeline, Violetta is Jenkins' underling in Arasaka Counter-Intelligence, embroiled in the midst of the Frankfurt Incident. Jenkins is still short-sighted and arrogant, and Violetta still receives her impossible task to kill their supervisor, Abernathy. But Jenkins' tracks are easily traced, and without Jackie on her side to intimidate the corpo-thugs who come to bring her in, Violetta is quickly brought before Abernathy for a 'vigorous debriefing.' Under duress, Violetta reveals everything, and Jenkins is dealt with as flippantly as the man was in life.

But Abernathy isn't a fool. She knows that Jenkins, the unsubtle boor, could never have reached his old level of success without he help of a talented, and surreptitious, underling. So she offers Violetta a choice: Accept her punishment, and burn with Jenkins on his funeral pyre; or accept an immediate promotion to Jenkins' old post, and the personal endorsement of Susan Abernathy herself.

Of course, the nature of this seemingly generous gift becomes clear over the course of her interrogation. During Violetta's complimentary stay in the Arasaka Corporate Internment Suites, there has been a great tragedy. Saburo Arasaka, the Emperor himself, has been murdered. And the prime suspect is none other than Violetta's own wayward sibling. None of them have been in contact with each other for two years, since the death of their father, but this is of little importance to Abernathy, or her subsequent interrogators. She is even visited by a stern man with impressive neck cyberware, but he says nothing to her as Abernathy repeats her questions.

Soon, she is released, with a new directive: She is to turn all of her inherited resources towards tracking, surveilling, and monitoring her past sibling. She directs her own division of Arasaka Counter-Intel, personally directing hundreds of ground agents and millions of eddies of company assets to keep tabs on the mercenary known as 'V'. There are many who joke in hushed breaths about a connection between the murderer 'V' and their boss, the villainous Violetta Villanueva, but only a privileged few at the upper echelon know the truth of this juvenile rumor.

This knowledge is Violetta's golden noose, her gilded sword of Damocles; for the connection to their Emperor's killer is what keeps Violetta in her position, and what could pull her from it in an instant. Her loyalty is therefore absolute, and her will is implacable. Her success means the death of her own blood, but her failure is her own utter erasure.

But all is not lost to despair. Her access to the higher reaches of Arasaka's corporate structure lead her to unexpected allies in the search for Saburo's true killer. And in time, with proven loyalty, these allies may become something more...

[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. 

[dwellordream]

“Naturally mercenaries took different forms. Armoured cavalrymen serving for cash within an elite squadron would have angrily rejected the notion of being associated with other groups of hireable warriors including siege engineers, miners, infantry, or light cavalry. Yet the fundamental principle of their employment was the same: no money = no war.

So what was the nature of the mercenary market in the Near East? What were its guidelines, whether spoken or unspoken? Here I offer five themes common to at least some mercenaries across the region at this time.

Be ready to switch sides

Mercenaries could be discerning about their choice of employer. Some preferred to fight alongside members of their own faith or culture, others were loyal to a specific commander, but for many the basic principle was to … follow the money.

If this meant switching employers at the last minute then so be it. In 1124 the ruler of Melitene in Southern Anatolia was besieged by a rival named Ghazi and so he slipped out from the city at night to recruit some mercenaries from the Crusader States for 30,000 dinars. Unfortunately for him, these mercenaries never turned up because they were called away to support King Baldwin II of Jerusalem who was gathering troops to besiege the city of Aleppo in northern Syria; presumably they received a better offer.

Of course, the sudden abandonment of one employer for another could impact the region’s balance of power. From the mercenaries’ perspective however this probably wasn’t too much of a concern because their priority was generally to maximise their pay.

In the years directly before the famous Battle of Hattin and the subsequent Fall of Jerusalem (1187), mercenaries had been flocking away from the Crusader States, heading instead to serve King William II of Sicily who then used them to wage war against the Byzantine empire.

For Near Eastern mercenaries, languishing during a period of truce in the Crusader States, in the years directly before the Hattin campaign, this was an easy decision – they wanted to be paid. Even so, King Henry II later came to fear that his actions had drawn possible soldiers away from the Crusader States at a crucial moment.

Be careful who you work with!

Some mercenary companies were huge. In the twelfth century many leading Turkish rulers in Syria employed thousands of Turkmen nomadic warriors to bulk-out their armies. These warriors were not necessarily mercenaries in the traditional sense, but some groups were evidently prepared to fight for money because in 1119 the Turkish ruler Ilghazi, having won a major victory against the Principality of Antioch, complained that he needed all his cash to pay his considerable force of Turkmen warriors.

Another commentator called Ibn al-Athir complained about these warriors observing: ‘Each one of them would arrive with a bag of wheat and a sheep and would count the hours until he could take some quick booty and then go home.’

Nevertheless, teaming up to form mercenary companies could pose problems. Mercenaries have their own agendas and those agendas aren’t always solely centred on the acquisition of money. In 1270, two mercenaries approached Philip of Montfort, lord of Tyre in the Kingdom of Jerusalem asking for employment, dressed as Turkmen warriors.

They were then enrolled as turcopoles (light-cavalry) and Philip learned to depend heavily upon their assistance. In time he relied on them so much that he permitted them to live in his own house. Nevertheless, these soldiers weren’t actually seeking money or even employment. They were assassins intent firstly on seeking his favour and then – when he dropped his guard – assassinating both him and another Frankish lord.

In the event, one assassin managed to murder Philip of Montfort and almost killed his son as well. The other was apprehended before he could strike. For mercenaries in the Near East the lesson here was clear – be careful who you ally yourself with. Fellow mercenaries may have hidden agendas.

Have an eye on the main chance!

Normally when rulers hire mercenaries, they just want to supplement their forces with a company of auxiliaries or perhaps a few specialists, such as siege engineers. In such circumstances, mercenaries generally had to be content with their pay and then go home.

There were some occasions however when mercenaries realised that their paymasters were starting to depend on them for their very existence. For many mercenaries – this was the moment of opportunity. Perhaps they could aspire to take power in their own right.

This kind of scenario occurred many times in the Medieval Mediterranean. In 1303 a mercenary band called the Catalan Great Company arrived in the Byzantine Empire, seemingly ready to offer its services to Emperor Andronicus II. Initially the mercenary company drove back the empire’s enemies in Anatolia winning several important victories.

Nevertheless, their leader soon recognised just how badly Andronicus needed his assistance and how little resistance he could offer should the Great Company turn against him. Consequently, he demanded more and more concessions from Andronicus until the situation declined into open war as the mercenaries sought to take power for themselves.

Be alert to opportunities created by rising powers

There is a story about a former king of Jerusalem, Guy of Lusignan, who became king of Cyprus in 1192. The tale reports that soon after taking power he wrote to Saladin asking for advice about how he could best secure his rule. Saladin replied a little reluctantly, but his advice was clear – Guy should liberally hand out the island’s estates to settlers from friendly territories. He wasn’t necessarily talking about mercenaries here, but the principle is important.

Rulers in this era sought to attract the best warriors by paying them or giving them as much as they could. They needed to be generous or these same warriors would simply transfer to the higher bidder. When they had these warriors at their command, they stood a far higher chance of being victorious in war.

Of course for mercenaries, the key principle was to stay vigilant to changing political tides; wealthy and successful employers have a much greater chance of keeping you safe and paying you well than their weaker and poorer counterparts.

Know your exit strategy

There comes a time in every mercenary’s life when their fighting days are done and it’s time to hang up the sword. This raises the significant question – how will they support themselves when they are no longer being paid?

The Arab nobleman Usama ibn Munqidh tells the story of one of his close friends called Tadrus who went for a meal with an elderly Frankish (Western European) knight in the city of Antioch. They were on very good terms and, although Tadrus expressed some concerns that Frankish food might be served, especially pork, the knight hurriedly reassured him that he never ate pork and that he had an excellent Egyptian chef.

Tadrus was however clearly curious to know how this knight supported himself given that he was no longer paid by the prince of Antioch as a fighting knight. As it turned out, the knight possessed enough property in the city to enable him to live in some style on the proceeds of the rental income. The key principle here for aspiring mercenaries was to make sure that enough money was invested to keep them in their old age!

- Nicholas Morton, “Five tips for unscrupulous mercenaries working in the Medieval Near East.”

[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.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Mafia!Billy Russo Headcanons

[TW: mentions of mafia and related topics. This is just a work of fiction but please do remember that the actual mafia is not a romanticized fictional character doing questionable things. Mafias ruin lives and countries, they have no mercy or shame.]

Author's note: told ya this was going to happen. Guy Ritchie's Gentlemen is partially to blame too, I love that movie. This is going to be in parts, I also have a lot to say.

[Part 2]

I feel like mafia!Billy and yandere!Billy make a Venn diagram

So he's rich, violent, possessive and handsome. The Soviet Union hasn't seen so many red flags.

His "field of expertise" would probably be illegal arms and mercenaries. Many rich and/or important people use his "services". He could make bank on supporting terrorists but chooses not to.

When your parents and friends ask what your husband is doing you just pull off a very convincing lie that he runs a private security company. It's not entirely a lie, because he does, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

He has probably rubbed off of you and, over the years, you have become significantly rougher than before you met him.

You probably own a business too, both as a cover and to have something to do. It took a quite big fight with Billy to make him understand that you're going to lose your mind if your daily schedule is "lay and smell of roses".

I'm thinking like a cafe or a restaurant, often visited by Billy's "business friends" and their wives.

Billy and you are that couple. As in, "he's definitely wanted for multiple crimes in several countries and she looks cute but will stab you"

But it hasn't always been like that.

When the two of you met, you were just a girl, working 9 to 5, going to bars with your friends, binge-watching Game of Thrones and complaining about disastrous dates.

You met Billy on your friends' engagement party: you knew the bride-to-be and he knew the groom-to-be. Fate had it, you sat next to each other at the table. You remember your first impression of him: good-looking and confident, the type which sole existence makes people feel intimidated. And you weren't any different.

At first the conversation was pretty one-sided until you became convinced that he's not as big-headed as he might have appeared

And it turned out that talking to him is absolutely great! Time flew by and suddenly it was late at night and he offered to drive you home

Part of you wanted to invite him inside but there was still some unsureness about him as a person - you have known him for a few hours. And considering your friends were engaged, it was obvious you were going to see him a few more times. It was better to take it easy

So you asked him to have lunch with you and that decision was what started the spiral.

You started to see Billy every few days and his romantic interest in you was painfully obvious: the gifts, the flowers, the expensive restaurants, the wax poetic - you name it.

It was like a teenager's Hollywood dream

(You could pay off a mortgage with one of your earrings)

At some point, you became his plus one to official events and that was the moment you were introduced to the luxurious world of illegally acquired wealth

Billy genuinely loves your confusion at some things that he has grown quite used to

"Just because you can put caviar on an oyster and wash it down with champagne doesn't mean you should."

"How can alcohol be more expensive than a house?"

"I could paint the soles of my shoes red and no one would know the difference."

"I could ask anyone in here how much milk costs and they would have no idea."

"Just out of curiosity, are they ever sober?"

Perhaps that's what made him even more fond of you.

Or maybe it was the way you looked during those events. You may have said, on multiple occasions, that those galas and banquets were just people arguing about who has more houses in Bali or who owns more mountains in Switzerland but you always went with him.

Maybe he should start throwing those galas himself if that meant seeing you more often in a long gown and high heels. To him, you looked expensive but in a noble way, like a daughter of the emperor of the world

Each time he looked at you he felt like he was falling in love all over again

And as you were holding his arm, moving among the masses of absolute elites, he couldn't help but feel smug, especially when he noticed other people staring at you

Billy has, on multiple occasions, used all of his willpower to not start a fight with some guy who tried flirting with you

With time you have become the talk of those parties. Some wanted to be you and others wanted to be with you, all while you appeared elusive and out of their reach

The worst are some auctions he shows up to in order to talk to someone or simply because it would be rude not to go.

If you even suggest you like something, he's going to win it.

"You didn't have to buy it. If I want you to buy me something, I will ask."

"What kind of husband am I if I have to wait for my wife to tell me to spoil her?"

Sometimes it's a bit overwhelming but you know he doesn't have bad intentions. He just doesn't know how to express his love and appreciation

Billy always puts up an intimidating facade for the public, which toes the line of "sexy" and "actually terrifying".

Once, you were listening to him berating some employees and for a moment you wondered what it would be like if he spoke like that to you and the general consensus made you realize you might have a kink

Which you jokingly mention (kind of to see his reaction) but Billy knows you too well and let me tell you: you played yourself. He knows now.

Sometimes it so happens that you go to his company (to drop something off most of the time) and even after being married for a few years, it still feels weird when all of his employees stop what their doing to tell you "good morning" and ask how's your day going. No doubt Billy had something to do with it.

Weirdest part is that they call you "ma'am", which makes you feel a bit old. No matter how many times you tell them to call you "Mrs.Russo" or by your name, it doesn't stick

As the life of a spouse of a mafia boss goes, you have been threatened quite a few times. It was more to scare Billy rather than you, though. At first, it was mortifying (understandably) but with time you grew to just say "bite me" and carry on

Billy has openly admitted it turns him on

The hardest part was, quite obviously, accepting the fact that your then-boyfriend was a violent criminal.

Was it your naively kind heart or the blinding love you felt towards him, you shocked yourself accepting the reality, although you didn't speak to him for a few days.

But he understood that. It pained him to no end but he understood it's something difficult to take in.

He wanted to marry you the moment you called him three days after his dramatic reveal and said that you want him, whatever he brings with him.

I should mention that your friend's fiance (whose guest was Billy) has explicitly told you not to mix up with him because although he is a great person to be around, becoming an important, close, part of his life was dangerous. At the moment you didn't know what that meant and he didn't want to elaborate, so you didn't take that suggestion to heart

Both you and Billy are grateful for that

Absolutely random "wanna go on vacation?"

Your first question is always whether he's done something and needs to flee the country

And he reminds you that it was just one time and you had fun, so you shouldn't complain

Billy and you have come up with elaborate lies and code words to keep the less legal activities a secret in front of your friends and family

Your parents genuinely believe you married an ambitious, ex-marine who has his own, flourishing business and is definitely a man of the law.

Billy is suspicious when you can wash out the blood from his clothes without leaving a trace

"You know, love, there are other ways of getting blood on clothes that do not involve murdering someone."

Noticing how you change into a more dominant, tough person gains some weird, almost sexual, satisfaction from him.

He has a primal need to keep you safe, to protect you but he does so in a more secretive way because you tend to get angry when he gets overbearing. Although he finds your anger attractive, he doesn't want to be the reason you're upset so he just makes sure you don't know he's pulling the strings to protect you.

Billy always has a hand on you, especially in public. Be it on your lower back, on your waist, around your shoulders or have you hold his arm. He's a possessive man and wants his "territory" to be visibly marked.

Also he's an absolute sap for you clinging on to him but he won't admit that openly. He has a face to maintain.

So, in private, he often seeks the comfort of your physical closure, holding you close whenever he can

It could be out of a reasonable fear for your lives. In his line of work, it was easy to become a widow or a widower prematurely. After all he's suffered, he has a wife that loves him and sometimes he feels like he has to hold on to with all of his strength so that you don't leave him

Not that you're planning to

______

@intothesoul