#but nobody asked for my help and i was busy gathering all my troops in my capital to see who i should keep and who i should kill

[itsalwaysdark]

so funny civilization . im friends with 6/7 of the other leaders and the one guy im not friends with looks like this in the diplomacy panel

[norbiegrafton]

january 4th 114 ac - norbert grafton is born

norbert grafton was the first-born son of house grafton, a quiet, serious baby who hit all his mental milestones way before most of his peers, but was slow to learn to sit and to walk. as a child, he had a mild speech impediment he grew out of- but not before he acquired the nickname most people, friends and enemies alike, know him as. he struggled with pronounced his own name, and thus, became simply norbie. as a child he was bullied and laughed at when in the company of other boys, and still feels more comfortable in the company of women to this day.

pre-dance

before the dance broke out, norbie was fostered with the swann family in the stormlands, and grew close to wylliam swann.

129 ac - the dance begins

the dance broke out when norbie was just shy of his 16th birthday. it was a difficult predicament to find himself in, as at the time, he was still in the stormlands, who supported the greens, whilst his family and homeland supported the blacks. for a while, nobody knew what to do with norbie. eventually, it was decided he would go to the citadel to become a maester, leaving gulltown to a younger brother, which he did after he turned 16, where he met lucerys estermont. however, he hated it, and after a few weeks left to return to gulltown as its heir. norbie makes a single attempt to fight with the men of the vale. it does not go well, and he breaks both knees. he is never again asked to lift a sword, but does make a name for himself when it comes to his skills as a steward, businessman, inventor and architect over the course of the dance. in my mind, i like to think he contributed by inventing some powerful siege equipment and making sure gold kept coming into gulltown to fund their troops, predominantly by travelling around and offering his services to places and keeps who needed help rebuilding after the destruction of the dance. in the immediate aftermath of his injuries, he spends time recovering at ninestars with house templeton. during the dance, norbie's father dies, leaving him as the ruling lord.

140 ac - the dance ends, the vale becomes independent

norbie is relieved when the dance ends. he has spent the last few years either focusing on business matters in gulltown, supporting his brother, or travelling around the continent working on architectural commissions when offered. notably, he has completed a lot of building work in gulltown. when the realms gather, norbie is usually in attendance. however, he was not in the north when the nobles gathered there. norbie was present at: - the peace talks in dorne - king cedric's wedding in the reach - the coronation of king jaehaerys ii - the celebrations following the birth of prince arthur - the riverlands' litha festival he follows the political situation in the vale from a distance, but with care. since the fracturing of the kingdoms, norbie has been happy to support house arryn, regardless of which arryn sits the throne. that's for them to decide.

[fruitcoops]

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

---------------------

“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 09 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2.6 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (08)

Next part (10)->

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Make Me Fly

It has been an interesting week. Bjorn hasn't been around lately, since he and Ragnar are starting to gather people for the next raid. Winter will be over soon enough, and apparently, they start getting ready a long time before sailing. You're trying not to think too much about it, since you know Ivar is going.

But that's an issue for when the winter is over, and it isn't yet, and won't be for quite a while. On Ivar's bed, already dressed for the day, you're kneeled behind him, braiding his hair. You've been sleeping here now, and of course, the news got out, even though you don't really know how. Hvitserk was the first to know, so he told Aslaug and Ubbe. Ragnar found out quickly after, meaning it got to Bjorn's ears as well. Then, you started noticing people staring, and some rumors, according to Helga. You were under Aslaug's protection, but the rumor that you're with Ivar makes people scared of you. You don't mind though, but you still haven't spoken with Ivar about it. You want things to just happen instead of pushing it because of what people are saying.

“There you go.” You say when the braids are done. “I'm getting really good at this.”

Ivar runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the braids softly. His hair is long now, and he agreed on not cutting it short again. “You're getting great at this.” He says, grabbing your hand and pulling you down again, so you have both your arms around his neck. “I want to show you something today.”

“What?” You ask hands on his chest.

“I'm gonna show you how I ride on the battlefield.” His voice gets a little darker, and you know he's not joking. “I know you've been asking yourself that.”

“I know you can fight.” Getting up from the bed, you move to stand before him. “I just don't know how, but I don't doubt it.”

“We still have some weeks, but I'll be sailing to England again.” Ivar takes his clutch and gets up to his feet. “No need to hide it, I know you're worried.”

“Worried isn't the right word... Maybe anxious.” You start making your way to the door, and Ivar unlocks and pulls it open for you. “I know some people don't come back and I've never been through anything like that. I don't how those who stay deal with the waiting.” You set a comfortable pace, walking side by side with him.

“You'll get used to it. That's the way things have always been here.”

“I know.” When you cross the main hall, you wave at Hvitserk and Ubbe, muttering a ‘hello’ to Bjorn, since you've been trying to ease the ever-growing tension between the two brothers.

Ivar guides you through the city and then through the forest to a wooden structure built among the trees. There are some men around, and the doors are open. You're way too curious about it, but you manage to wait until you reach the building. There are several horses inside, some war equipment and ballistic devices you don't recognize, many shields and swords.

“Storage?” You ask.

“Yes. But that's the only thing that really matters.” He gestures at the very end of the barn, and that's when you see it.

“What's that?” Walking faster, you make your way towards it, ignoring everyone around. You've never seen anything like it. They keep a certain distance from it, you noticed. You wonder how many times they had Ivar yelling at them to stay away from his things.

“It's a war chariot.” He answers as you walk around it, stepping up and inside. “With it, I can march into battle. Lead troops in combat.”

In the center, there's a structure for Ivar to sit, so you walk around it, standing on the edge. You can't help but imagine how it must feel to be in such a position, in the middle of war. “I wish I could see you in action. It must feel like flying.” You expected him to say something, but several seconds go by and you're still in silence, broken only by the low chattering of the men working here. Looking over your shoulder, you spot Ivar still on the ground, looking up at you. “What?” You giggle, turning around.

“Get my chariot ready.” He commands, raising his voice. “Now.”

“You're kidding, right?” You ask, unable to hold back the smile.

Ivar doesn't answer, he just pulls himself to the chariot, taking his place. Everything is done quickly, and once the horse is attached to the chariot, the doors on the back of the barn are pushed open. Ivar is seated on the bench made for him, and you stand on the front, hands tightly holding on the edge.

“Are you ready?” Ivar inquires, and you give him a look over your shoulder, biting your lip.

You've never seen this look on his face. You have seen him smiling many times, but this is different. Ivar looks truly happy, comfortable, secure. Wild, even. And you absolutely love this look on him. “Make me fly.” You mutter, and the moment he moves his arms to whip the horse, you turn around.

Soon enough you find you picked the right word to describe it. Flying. Ivar keeps the horse's pace so fast that it takes your breath away. It's nothing like riding. It's something entirely new. The chariot rocks a little through the woods, but when it reaches a road, the speed only increases, and you're laughing like a little kid. It's just amazing to ride this into battle, and you can only imagine what his enemies feel when they see Ivar on this thing, flying to meet them. They must be terrified. Ivar's reputation is the worst, or the best, depending on the point of view, and men must tremble like leaves at the sight of him.

“You alright there?” He yells above the wind, and you glance at him.

“Never been better!” Assuring him, you focus on the road again, seeing how close you are to Kattegat. “Turn around! Or else we'll enter the town.”

“And what's the problem with that?”

Laughing again, you decide you don't care if he doesn't care. And into the town you go, making people jump out of the way. Nobody dares to say anything though, just making sure to warn those ahead to watch out. The space gets a little narrow, and Ivar starts to struggle a little until he gives up, knocking some stores down and getting some angry yells. You're not really thinking right now, looking down at the people as you pass by, too fast. You can hear his laughter too, filling your ears.

“Ivar!” A different voice reaches you, and as soon as you spot Ragnar riding on your left, Ivar pulls the horse, making it reduce its pace until you stop completely.

“Father. Hi.” He mutters, in that tone that means he did something bad but doesn't care one bit.

“Will you take this thing back? Look at all the mess you two made.” He complains, gesturing at the market place. You give it a quick look, noticing way too many broken things. “Move it around and take the chariot back,” Ragnar says before riding away.

With a dramatic eye roll, Ivar does what he's told, and this time, since he's riding slower, you have your back at the landscape, staring at him instead. “Weren't you seeing where you were going?”

“Of course not.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “I was too busy looking at you.”

Blushing, you look down, and a rock on the road makes the chariot shake, making you jerk forward, bumping on the support on which Ivar can rest his chest. “Ouch.”

“Come here.” He says, moving back a little. “Good thing you're wearing pants. Sit here.” Raising an eyebrow, you do as he says, bringing one leg over the structure and straddling it. The moment you sit down on it, you feel Ivar's chest pressing against your back. “Better?”

“A little.” You mumble, feeling as his arms surround you, so you place your hands on top of his, holding the halters. “That's nice.” You whisper, the cold air suddenly not bothering you anymore.

“It is.” Ivar let go of the halters, letting it to your control. “I never allowed anyone to do that. And I don't think I ever will.” He whispers in your ear, and you feel a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Really?”

“Really.” He repeats, hands on your hips. “Ever since I started raiding with my father and brothers, I never truly had anyone to come back to.” You feel yourself relax onto him, for a brief moment forgetting you're the one controlling the chariot. “So I need to know if that changed.”

This is important, so you pull the halters, making the horse stop. Once you're motionless, you move to the side and turn your head a little, just enough to look into his eyes. “What exactly are you asking, Ivar?”

He brings a hand to caress your cheek, cold fingertips running through your skin, painfully slow, leaving a trail of fire. “I'm asking if you will be waiting for my return.”

“I–”

“Prince Ivar.” Someone calls, and you're cut short.

“What?” He hisses, as you stand up and move out of the made chair.

“Your father asked us to take your chariot back. He needs to speak with you.”

“Why didn't he said it himself?” Despite being annoyed, Ivar steps out of the chariot, and you do the same. It doesn't go unnoticed that the men don't ride it. They simply pull the horse. It's like an unspoken rule, that doesn't need to be reassured. People just know.

Then, you're left alone in the woods, the sound of the chariot being taken away slowly fading. “Guess we should go now.” You say, but before you give the first step back to Kattegat, Ivar grabs your arm, forcing you to stop and turn to look at him.

“First answer me.” There's insecurity in his voice, fear even. You wonder if this side of Ivar will ever heal. Maybe it won't, but, as long as you're around, you'll do everything you can to make him see that he's not less of a man because of his disability. You know he's still scared that you'll pick Bjorn over him, the reason for the insane jealously going on between the two brothers, but the truth is you already made your choice. And you're not changing your mind.

“Of course I'll wait for you.” You say, not a hint of doubt on your voice. “I'll be on the decks, watching the boats arriving, searching for you among the people.” When Ivar smiles, you do the same, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek. But when you feel his flesh, you're quick to notice you met his lips instead.

At the same time you freeze, you feel your entire body heating up. But then, you're fast to move, a hand coming to cup cheek as the other grabs the hard material of his vest, holding him close. You don't pull away, how could you? Not when you just realized you've been wanting to do this for so long. Smiling a little, you let him deepen the kiss, his free hand on your waist, pressing your body against his even more. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you feel completely inebriated by the warmth of his lips, his taste, everything.

But you still need to breathe, so you're forced to pull away, still standing close to him. You feel your cheeks burning, a smile on your lips that you just can't hold back. “That was something.” You mutter, clearing your throat.

“If I come back from this raid, tell me you'll be mine,” Ivar whispers, and you look up to meet those bright blue eyes once again. “I promise I won't ever take or love another woman.”

There's only one possible answer for this, but the truth is that somehow, you have been his since the beginning, you just didn't know. “You'll be mine, and I'll be yours.” Tiptoeing again, you place a quick kiss on his lips.

“And so it'll be.”

• • •

You both agreed on not letting the word out until after the raids. So, as the days and weeks pass by, you watch as people get ready, and you enjoy the many feasts Ragnar throws, but also the meals you share with the family alone. Hvitserk is the only one who knows about you and Ivar since he got you kissing by Ivar's bedroom door. But he won't tell anyone, or else, you swore to use him as a target to practice with the ax. But you trust him, you know he'll keep the secret as long as you want him to.

Bjorn is struggling. In the beginning, when he found out you were sleeping in Ivar's bedroom, he had this constant angry stare. Now, you're not sure what his plans are, but you know he hasn't given up yet. Ubbe told you that Bjorn still doesn't believe you made up your mind, because to him, it's insane that any woman would prefer Ivar over him. You don't care though. What he thinks doesn't matter. But you do catch him staring, and you're tired of trying not to let Ivar notice. It's almost always useless.

Tonight, it's a goodbye feast. They're sailing first thing tomorrow, many to their deaths, so today, everyone celebrates. You're dressed in a brand new dress, with the necklace Ivar gave you, as well as rings and earrings that we're also gifts from him. You're happy tonight, despite the anxiety building up in your chest.

“So. Do you want anything from your homeland?” Ivar asks, his mouth close to your ear to make himself heard above all the noise.

“I want you.” You answer, stealing a chicken wing from his plate and taking a bite. Ivar looks at you with an annoyed stare, eyes rolling at your audacity.

“You already have me.” He simply answers.

“Are you guys serious?” Hvitserk complains, dropping to the bench beside you. “If I ever fall in love and start acting like this, I give you both permission to punch me in the face.”

“You know I'll never forget this, right?.” You tell him, an arm around his shoulders. “I have a good memory, my friend.”

“You'll regret saying that,” Ivar warns him, and you giggle.

The night was long, but it ended too soon. You were awakened before the sun, so you could help Ivar with the last preparations. You did you're best not to look worried, but right now, walking next to him to the boat, you have to clench your hands into fists so nobody will see them shaking.

“That's it.” He says, turning to look at you. “Don't worry too much. I'll come back.”

“I know, Ivar the Boneless.” Some people pass by, so you look down at your feet. “Just be careful, alright?”

“I will.”

“Alright.” You know you've been keeping this a secret until he's back, but right now, it doesn't matter. Standing on your toes, you kiss him, slow and passionately, not minding the many eyes on both of you. It just doesn't matter. Pulling away, you smile, hoping this won't be the last kiss.

“So much for keeping a secret.” He says, smirking.

“Shut up.” You mutter, resting your head on his chest. “Just remember I'll be waiting.”

“I will,” Ivar says in a low voice, and with one more kiss, you let him get in the boat, making your way back to the decks, standing next to Aslaug.

The Queen has a look on her face, and you know she saw the kiss.

“Won't you say anything?” You mutter, feeling your cheeks burning.

“No.” She smiles, glancing at you. “I just think it'll be a long summer. For both of you.”

And, of course, Queen Aslaug was right.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @msrawog @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

[slowly-writing]

Whispers

Avengers x Teen!Reader

Word count: 1.8K

Requested by @shady80smusicsingercolor : Avengers x teen!reader Where the reader is a cheerleader at the high school that Peter goes to, reader was during school hours when the teen heard the rest of the squad talking crap about them,teen gets upset,and after teen decided to skip practice,when they arrive to the avengers tower,Steve was the first one to notice but yet haven't notice the sadness in the reader face,but then realized the teen should be in practice,Steve now notices the teen face, calls for the team,and team comfort her

A/N: this was requested so long ago (literally April 10th), and I’m so sorry it took me so long. Thank you for your patients!

“Bye Pete, I’ll see you back home. I’ve got practice after school,” you remind the boy, waving as you turn the corner out of the cafeteria. You always left lunch a little early. Your next class was across the school and you really didn’t like to be late. So that’s what brought you here, alone and hearing voices ahead of you. Normally you wouldn’t think much of it, being in a school there’s constantly someone somewhere, talking about something. But then you heard your name.

You paused creeping close to the corner, but not quite rounding it. Listening to the voices you recognized as your teammates.

“What’s the deal with y/n and Peter? She’s always with him...I wonder if they’re dating,” Betty whispers to the group you can’t quite see.

“They can’t be. She’s way too good for Parker. It’s just a charity thing. Cause she lives with the avengers and he works there or whatever. She probably pities him,” Brad counters and you shrink further in on yourself.

“She’s kind of a weirdo too though. With that whole mysterious backstory and weird accent she tries to hide. Where’s she from? And how did she end up at the avengers tower?” Liz joins in and your frown deepens.

Did they really think you were shallow enough to think you were better than Peter? Just because he wasn’t on the football team? If only they knew how awesome he really was. And why did they suddenly want to know everything about you? They never asked before and you don’t really want to unpack their analysis of your home life anyways. That was none of their business.

You silently turn around, taking the long way to class. You really don’t want to see any of them right now.

xxxxx

When the final bell rang you sat at your desk, debating whether you could face practice. They don’t know you heard them gossiping, and it hurts more that they said it all behind your back, so you shake your head sending a quick text off to your coach, claiming you have a migraine, and start walking home.

You kept running over the things they had said. They really thought Peter was lame? After everything, you’d thought they’d gotten to know him. He’s the coolest person you’ve met, even without the whole spiderman thing. He was sweet and super passionate about the things he enjoyed. He was smarter than you could ever hope to be, but you never minded listening to him in the lab as he rambled about the new web shooters he was working on. You think he’s amazing, and you know that’s more than your massive crush talking.

Then there was the fact that they thought you were hiding things. It’s not like your living situation was a secret, but it wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You were born in Sokovia and lived there with your parents until the attack with Ultron happened. Most of that day is a blur, a mix of confusion, chaos, and repressed memories. But you know Steve got you out, but your parents were lost in the tragedy.

Steve and the other avengers felt some sort of responsibility to you. You’re still not quite sure why, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. A lot of people from your hometown came out of it with nothing, and the team is always sure to help when they can, but you’re grateful for your new life and all that it’s given you.

You’re so lost in thought you don’t even register that you’re almost home until you reach the front door of the tower. You smile weakly at the security guard and make your way to the elevator, silently praying nobody is home. As the doors open you see your prayers haven’t been answered, but the silver lining is Peter’s not there yet. Maybe Steve will forget you have practice today.

“Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have practice after school?” shit.

“Uh yeah...it umm. Got cancelled. Last minute...gardening emergency. They had to close the field for the day,” you wince and Steve raises an eyebrow. “I gotta go. Homework.”

With that lame excuse you scramble to your room, closing the door behind you and flopping face down on the bed.

xxxxx

“Hey, Peter. Did y/n seem off to you today? She seemed upset when she got home from school,” Steve asks Peter in the lab, Peter furrowing his brow before responding.

“No, not that I noticed, but I haven’t seen her since lunch. Maybe practice was rough, I know they’re getting ready for that competition in a few weeks,” Peter says softly, trying to figure out how to help you.

“No, practice was cancelled. They closed the field,” Steve’s words cause Peter’s head to snap up.

“No they didn’t. I saw them practicing after school. The soccer team was on the field too. I didn’t look too close because y/n says it’s embarrassing when I watch practices, but I know it happened,” Peter stands, setting his tools aside, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve follows him out of the lab, and not five minutes later, there’s a knock on your door.

“Coming,” you yell, only to immediately shrink back after opening the door. One look at their faces and you know they’ve caught you in your lie, “hey.”

“I think we need to talk,” Steve says in his captain voice and you let out a sigh, opening the door enough for them to follow you into the room.

“Why did you skip practice?” Peter’s head is tilting to the side like a confused puppy, and you have to remind yourself that this is a serious conversation, not a time to fawn over how cute he is.

“I just-”

“And don’t try to lie again,” Steve cuts you off. The man really knows you too well.

“You know how in movies and TV shows cheerleaders are always such jerks?” They both silently nod, “and how when I moved here I tried really hard to fit in so they’d be nice to me?” two more nods. “I thought it worked but it turns out that in real life they just say the mean things behind your back when they think you aren’t listening.”

“What’d they say?” Steve’s voice is softer now, he’s always been afraid of you having problems at school. He knows his fair share about bullying, and knows kids will always attack anything different. Your accent may have faded over the years, but it’s still clear that you’re not from here and you’re not quite used to the New York lifestyle. Back home everything was smaller, but you’re always excited to learn about your new home. It’s rare to see you without a smile on your face and he always hoped your naive compassion would save you.

“They were talking about how weird it was that I kept secrets about why I lived here and…” you trail off, looking at Peter. He looks ready to go to war for you, and you don’t want to admit the rest out loud, “that I must only hang out with Peter out of pity. But it's not true! Sometimes I think it’s the other way around. You’re so sweet and smart that sometimes I think the only reason you spend time with me is because you feel bad for me. The freaky kid from another country with no family. I try to fit in a school, so I don’t talk about my home, and I’ve learned to talk like they do. But no matter what I do, I still stick out. Maybe it’d be easier for you if we weren’t friends at all.”

By the time you finish your eyes are firmly locked on your hands in your lap, tears building up in your eyes.

“That’s not true,” Peter says firmly, in a rare show of anger. For a moment you think he’s mad at you, until he continues and you see the real object of his anger. “I don't hang out with you because I pity you, or I think I have to. I hang out with you because I like you for who you are. You make me feel normal. Not like the geeky kid at school everyone likes to tease, or the hero the city looks to for help. With you I’m just Peter. You listen to me ramble about tech I know you couldn’t care less about and you tell me about cheerleading moves that are so foreign to me they may as well be in a different language, but it doesn’t matter. We’re there for each other, it’s what we do. And I wish I could’ve been there for you this time. I know what it’s like to feel like you have to keep secrets but you don’t have to do that with me.”

You let his words sink in, letting him brush away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks before Steve speaks.

“And you have a family. I know you lost yours in Sokovia and I can’t even imagine that pain, but you’re not alone. You have all of us and any one of us will be here to listen to you, or take your mind off of it for a bit. What happened to you was traumatic, you lost your whole life and it’s okay not to want the kids at school knowing that. But you don’t have to forget where you came from to fit in.  Wanda makes food from Sokovia on Peitro’s birthday every year and I know she still keeps her journal in Russian. You’re allowed to miss your home, y/n. It doesn’t make you wierd, or ungrateful. It makes you human,” Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean into his side.

“I do like it here, but it’s just so hard sometimes,” you admit softly.

“We know it is, but you’re not alone,” Peter tells you and you smile up at him, gently taking his hand in your own.

“Now, I think you need a fun, relaxing night with no responsibilities. What do you say to a movie night. We’ll watch whatever you want,” Steve proposes and your smile widens as you nod. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go gather the troops, and you two come join us whenever you’re ready.”

It’s silent for a few moments after he leaves and you soon realize you’re still holding Peter’s hand. You go to pull away but his grip is firm. His other hand on your chin, drawing your eyes to his. “I mean it you know. I like you, as more than just a friend.”

“You do?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s a happiness in your eyes you can’t hide and Peter’s whole face lights up.

“Yes really. I have for a while now, I just never knew how to tell you. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

“I do,” the words tumble out of your mouth before he’s even done speaking, but he’s smiling, and so are you. For now it all feels right as he gently presses his lips to yours. The whispers in the hallways don’t matter, because you have a family, and it seems you may have a boyfriend now too.

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx  @stop-drop-and-drumroll

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01132: Crosshair

Kix shifted impatiently as he watched the small fleet of ships - smaller than it had been when it left the Republic base - drift gently into the hangar bay. He had gotten a notification from General Kenobi to be on-call. The situation on Anaxes had been resolved with only minor casualties, but it never hurt to be prepared.

When the ships settled to rest on the ground, several men around Kix grumbled that it was a good thing the Bad Batch hadn't been flying. Apparently, they had already earned a reputation for landing with more speed than skill. Their last landing had nearly caused what would have been the single largest loss of Republic troops since Geonosis.

The men began exiting the LAAT/i closest to Kix and he found himself looking at Echo. Kix had thoroughly examined his presumed-dead brother when he returned from Skako Minor. The trooper had been in bad shape, but Kix had to admit that the cybernetic work the Separatists had done was top-notch. Other than malnourishment and some overloaded circuitry - most likely damaged during the rescue - Echo had been in surprisingly good health.

Still, Echo's face was pale and angular, cheekbones jutting out in a way that seemed almost painful. He walked slowly, carefully… It always seemed as though he were waiting for something to take his legs out from under him.

Even as Kix watched, Echo stumbled and was supported by Rex, who had thrown out an arm immediately to catch him.

Kix rushed forward, ignoring the dust thrown into the air by the other LAAT/i ships landing nearby. "What happened?" he asked immediately.

Echo glanced up at him, his light brown eyes looking even lighter in his sallow face, and simply shook his head. Kix's heart sank and he looked sharply to the captain.

"Echo plugged into the Seppie's system and sent them the wrong battle plans before putting a surge through to disable their clankers," Rex explained heavily. "It worked perfectly, but they isolated the signal and sent a surge back. It gave him a pretty good shock."

Kix grimaced. "Let's get you to the hangar medbay, Echo. I'll need to do a full diagnostic check."

"Aw, leave him alone," Wrecker grumbled from behind them. "He's awake now, isn't he?"

"It knocked you unconscious?" Kix asked immediately.

"Yeah," Echo admitted lowly.

After making sure that Rex had a good hold on his injured brother, Kix turned to look at the Bad Batch. "Unconsciousness is always something to worry about. I'll need to do a full scan to make sure everything is okay. The three of you should come in for checks as well."

"Er… don't you mean four?" Hunter asked slowly, staring around at the other men of Clone Force 99.

"No, I don't. Three of you have a choice, but I see Crosshair's injury no matter how well he thinks he's hiding it. Follow us to the medbay, trooper."

"I'll be fine," Crosshair snarked.

"That's the spirit," Kix encouraged, even as he turned his attention back to helping Echo. "I'm an excellent medic and I can treat whatever injury you sustained. You certainly will be fine."

"I get the sense that you didn't make any friends there, Kix," Rex warned lowly, following Kix into the building.

"I'm a medic, sir," Kix reminded. "My business is caring for the men's health, not being their favorite person."

As they walked toward the hangar, Kix could hear a soft argument break out between Hunter and Crosshair, but Rex, Echo, and Kix had only just stepped into the medbay when the sniper slouched in behind them.

Scanning them was a moment's work. Rex was in perfect health other than a touch of fatigue and was immediately discharged from the medbay. Echo's nervous system showed signs of stress and there were minor burns on the segment of his arm that was connected to the data probe that had received the shock. Kix bandaged the burns and administered a mild set of pain meds before settling him into a bed. Finally, he moved his attention to Crosshair.

The serious trooper hadn't removed a single piece of his armor, but Kix didn't bother asking. Instead, he turned the power up on the scanner and scanned Crosshair's body from head to feet and back up. He ran the scanner carefully over the sniper's right elbow, where he had first seen the signs of an injury.

"You have a blaster wound piercing your anconeus muscle," Kix revealed.

"And here I thought I was just outgrowing my armor," Crosshair said dryly.

Kix surveyed the sniper without commenting, but he knew the message came through clearly enough: Crosshair had a slight build for a trooper. The idea of him outgrowing his armor in any capacity was laughable.

As Crosshair watched Kix's unspoken insult, his jaw tightened until Kix worried he would have to pull the splinters of the brother's toothpick from his mouth. To stop the unnecessary theatrics, Kix said, "As a sniper, you know that your anconeus is pretty important to the shooting process. Are you going to let me treat it?"

Crosshair blinked in surprise, but tried to hide the reaction. "Are you saying you're gonna give me a choice?"

"I don't like forcing my brothers into treatment," Kix said evasively.

Seeming to realize that it wasn't an answer, Crosshair narrowed his eyes, but gave a single nod.

"Good," Kix said. "Remove your shoulder armor and both sets of arm plates, then sit down. I'll be back with the necessary supplies."

It took a little bit longer to find what he needed in the unfamiliar medbay, but Kix managed, passing by a now-sleeping Echo to get to where Crosshair waited in uncomfortable silence.

In the time it took Kix to cleanse the wound, use an internal variation of bacta gel, and start applying bacta patches to the entry and exit points of the injury, Crosshair still hadn't spoken. Working as closely as he was, Kix could feel the tension radiating from the trooper.

"I'm almost done here, then I'll issue you some pain meds and we'll get you settled in for the night," he said, more to break the silence than anything else.

Crosshair snorted. "I'm not staying here tonight."

"You certainly are," Kix replied blandly. "I'll need to observe your wound to make sure it's healing properly. Don't think I didn't notice the elevated pulse and blood pressure, either. I have to be certain that's normal."

"We don't like medical centers... or medics," Crosshair said gruffly.

"I'm sorry, but the regulations are cle-" he cut himself off as Crosshair made a rude noise. He didn't know much about the Bad Batch, but most of the troopers hadn't enjoyed their time in medbays on Kamino, and Kix was no fool. There was probably a very good reason for Crosshair's venom.

With that in mind, Kix dropped his professionalism down a notch in order to level with the trooper: "Listen, I can't let you leave knowing that something could go wrong and you could lose the arm or die because I wasn't there to notice when things started going south. You'll stay here tonight with Echo. Spend the time cursing my name if it makes you feel better, as long as you're doing it here."

Crosshair snarled and opened his mouth to say something Kix was sure would be rude, but he was interrupted by the medbay doors opening. Hunter stepped through, followed by Tech and the hulking Wrecker.

"Gentlemen," Kix greeted politely, gathering the medical flotsam that tended to collect when an injury was being treated.

"Kix," Hunter returned. "We thought about your offer and we're here for scans."

"Good. Give me just a moment and I'll get the three of you scanned," Kix said, shooting Crosshair a firm look. "Pick a bed, trooper."

After disposing of the mess, Kix scanned the three remaining members of Clone Force 99, finding nothing worse than light fatigue, mild dehydration, and a single pulled muscle in Hunter's leg. True to Crosshair's word, all of them showed signs of stress and tension, likely from being in the medbay. Kix ignored that and focused on the treatable things.

He administered a pain patch for the pulled muscle and advised all of them to drink some water and get a good night of sleep.

"There is no need to pull watch duty while you're on-planet," Kix told them. "The regular troopers stationed here have a rotational system, so there's always a guard monitoring the perimeter. All of you should sleep as long as possible."

"Do you need us to stay here tonight?" Wrecker asked, glancing around uncertainly.

"It could be a medical necessity," Tech volunteered, watching Crosshair even as the tattooed trooper avoided his eyes.

Kix had a refusal ready to go, but paused at the last moment. "We don't like medical centers… or medics," Crosshair had said. If the others were volunteering to stay, it could be that they didn't want to leave their teammate here alone.

"Hmm… I think it would be for the best," Kix lied. "I need to monitor your fluid intake and I can make sure no one disturbs you while you rest. Best settle in for the night, vode."

Tech and Wrecker moved toward the beds, settling into ones on either side of the wounded troopers. Tech was rattling off factoids about bacterial growth all the while and Wrecker was crowing about winning some kind of bet against Crosshair.

Before he left the area, Kix caught sight of Hunter. The sergeant gave a deep nod of thanks - a gesture Kix returned before moving to the small desk at the front of the medbay, ready to keep watch as long as his brothers needed if it meant they felt safe enough to rest and heal.

---

A/N - sorry this is coming so late! Thank you for reading!

[finleyjayne]

EXTRA

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey guys, I know y’all don’t know me but I’m going to be trying to post some of my fan-fiction. It’s both exciting and scary, please reblog, share. I’m going to be trying to write a little blurb every day for the month of April. If you have any requests please send them my way and I’ll try my best. Thank you in advance. If you want to follow me for ONLY writings my writing blog is @finleyjaynewriting. 

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Self-deprecating thoughts

Summary: You are a part of the Avengers family but it’s sometimes hard to keep yourself from falling into bad habits that you thought you kicked when an essay question from your last college English class causes you to backslide. It’s a good thing your boyfriend Bucky is there to rally the troops and remind you that you are loved, even when you decide to run around the tower in a cape. 

picture credit goes to: Marwan & Khaled Couture Fall/Winter 2019 

Originally blogged by @fashion-runways​

You had been sitting here, staring at your outline notes, grading rubric, and notebook for over an hour. And you still hadn't a scrap of what to write. The list of adjectives on the page getting fuzzier as you tried to decide whether or not they fit you. Or if they were something that your friends, team-members, or family would use to describe you.

 If there was one word to describe you, you'd like to think that it was intelligent. But seeing as you live in a tower with not one but two geniuses and three supersoldiers who have heightened cognitive functions, it was terrifying how stupid you feel on the daily. Even with your triple-majored ass, you were on the lower end of intelligence. 

 Okay, so the people around you wouldn't call you the smart one in the group. What about determined. I mean, it takes a substantial amount of determination to get three master's degrees at the same time in five years. Tapping your pen against your chin as you think, you shake your head. Yeah, no, not when compared to Mr. I-can-do-this-all-day. 

 Sam is the compassionate and supportive one.

 Natasha is independent and fearless.

 Bucky is strong and loyal.

 Bruce is sweet and patient. 

 Wanda is attentive and courageous.

 Tony is eccentric and a genius.

 Steve is gentle and determined.

 Clint is funny and hardworking (even if he tries to play it off).

 Gods, this assignment is going to be the downfall of my perfect 4.0 GPA. You think to yourself, slamming your head onto your notebooks. Why did you have to take English? None of your majors were English oriented. Music, Engineering, and Chemistry. No  English, no need to know how to write a complete sentence. No need to write 2 pages on what your friends consider you using one word. You should know, you've made it 97% of the way through all three majors without taking a single English class. The most writing I had to do was my dissertations, which had nothing to do with this useless "self-expression piece."  The prompt doesn't even make sense! Write 1000+ words on a single word. How is that logically not just busy-work? 

 Just as your eyes and sinuses start filling with the feeling of hopelessness, Bucky comes waltzing into the tower's library with his book of the week. 

 "Heya dollface. Taking a nap?" He calls, the chuckle entwining into his voice in that perfect way it does. 

 And that's all it takes for your body to unleash the body-shaking sobs. The soulful wail that tore through your chest and out your trembling lips was nothing like you'd ever let anyone see. Especially not your team. You were already the weak one. You didn't need them to think anything less, but after comparing yourself to them for the last two and a half hours, you couldn't keep your self-deprecation locked in its cage anymore. 

 Seeing you this way was terrifying for Bucky. He had never seen you cry anywhere besides on stage. Not when you had been on the Mission from Hell. Not when you were hormonal, and Clint stole your heating stuffy. Not even when you were grieving the loss of your ex-girlfriend. So now having your usually bubbly, determined, happy-go-lucky self in a full breakdown was new territory for him. 

 "Woah," he said, eyes widening as he stared. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, doll. If anybody deserves a nap, it's you." He comforted as he took giant steps to your chair. Lifting you effortlessly and positioning you into the cradle of his arms as he took a seat in the large Papasan chair to the side of your chosen workspace. Holding you in a tight embrace like you did when he was having a hard time with his anxiety. 

 He focused on breathing evenly and keeping his heartbeat in check, knowing that if he didn't stay calm, the situation would escalate into something worse. Shushing you and rocking you as he observed the table for anything that could give away why you were crying. Bucky knew better than most about your anxiety and depression. He had asked you once how you knew so much about helping him during one of your many cuddle sessions. You had just said that you were working from your own encounters before you changed the subject.

 Though he didn't know everything, Bucky did try to help you as much as he could, especially as your friendship turned into something more. Still, he couldn't see anything that would cause you to become this upset. Usually, you would complain about your English assignments as you hyper-focused on them. Giving up on figuring it himself, he turned back to his distraught girlfriend, who was fighting to control her emotions in his arms. 

 "Babygirl, can you match your breaths to mine? Come on. Breathe in, hold, breathe out." He whispered, holding her tighter to him as she shakily followed him through the exercise a few more times. "Good, now what has my BAMF girlfriend distressed. Who do I need to take care of?" 

 You could feel the seriousness in his voice before you could see him through your tears. "Nobody, it's not a big deal. Just a stupid essay for English."

 "Don't give me that shit, Y/F/N Y/L/N." Bucky cuts off your excuses sternly. "You rarely cry, which, no matter how much you fight it, is unhealthy." Before you could even open your mouth to argue, he had a gentle, calloused finger on your lips. "Not going to remonstrate this. You are clearly upset, you are not okay, and that is okay. I just want to know why so I can help you more fully." He says, lifting his finger from your lips to tuck a few strands of your hair from your face.

 Sighing, you look down. "It's just this essay, I have to write about one word that my friends use to describe me. I ended up spiraling while trying to find a word that would be mine when all the ones I usually consider myself are more aptly displayed by somebody else. Honestly, I don't know why you keep me around. I'm pretty average." you admit, curling in on yourself as your tears gather again. 

 "Hey, none of that printsessa." He scolded you softly. "You are important to us. You are smart, fun, and inspirational. You are the reason we aren't at each other's throats. You are the instigator of too many of our team-building exercises. You single-handedly instigated the reconciliation between Steve and Tony." He started, giving you a smirk as you begin to scrunch your nose up. Tears were forgotten.

 You really didn't like it when he made sense when you were upset. It made feeling bad really hard. The worst part; Bucky damned well knew it. "But, you're biased, Bucky."

 "Maybe I am, but I also know you. And if I heard you correctly: It doesn't say one word YOU would choose to call yourself, but one word WE would define you as. Therefore, you shouldn't be wondering what words we would use. You should have gotten up and asked us. Or even better, you should've texted the group chat and asked! Then you wouldn't be here sending yourself into a hate-spiral, doll." Bucky reprimands softly. Determined to get rid of the lies that your mind is spewing at you, just like you do for him. 

 "I don't wanna bother you guys with my stupid homework. You guys didn't sign up to be pestered by my lack of self-mediation." You grumble huffily, knowing full well you are acting stubborn.

 "If you won't help yourself. I guess it's up to me to help you." Bucky states, standing up with you still cradled snugly in his arms. 

 "BUCKY!" You admonish, clinging to him at his sudden movement. "At least let me walk. I'm overwhelmed and sad, not crippled."

 "What's to say, I don't just wanna carry you? Huh? Also, you're holding me just as tightly love." He smiles brightly at you, kissing you briefly before turning back to the exit. Book, schoolwork, and his original objective forgotten for his new mission. He was going to find his doll her confidence again, with all the positive affirmations that should've been her first thoughts.

 Once settled in the elevator, Bucky looks up, "Hey, Friday, can you take us to Tony, please?" After confirmation from the resident AI, he sets your feet on the ground from the bridal carry he's holding you in but keeping you close to him. "So you need one word? What is your plan?" 

 Keeping your arms in their place around his neck, you lean your head against his secure warmth. "I don't really know, Buck. I kinda got stuck on the first step. If it was an analytical or critical styled piece, it would be a breeze, but it is supposed to be a descriptive essay. I don't know what to do with that. If it was a song, I'd be cuddled with you and my ukelele by now, putting finishing touches on the finished product. But no, there isn't any room for incomplete sentences. Maybe I'll make it a song just to spite the evil bat."

 "Hey, dollface, it's okay, I'm here to help you. Does it just have to be one word, or can it be structured for each person you know to have a different word? Remember what Peter said that one time he was working with you on Formatting? Your thesis could be something like 'I am many things to many different people and therefore have many different words that can be used to describe me. These things are A, B, C, and D. Then, you can use each term for a paragraph of fluff."

 Taking a deep breath, your lip twitches somewhere between a smile and a deep frown. "That does sound like a good idea. I don't really want to track down everyone, though. Can we get everyone into the same room and ask them as a group? It would be less hassle, and maybe we can decide on reasoning and stories to use to explain why? I really don't know how to do this without being really pessimistic and cynical about the whole thing."

 "Mr. Stark is in his lab, he is recommended that he is brought down to the commons, where I will page everyone else." Came Friday's disembodied voice. 

 "Thank you, Friday," you whispered. You weren't really sure that you were ready for this, but you know that this is the best way to finish this essay without spiraling into your self-pity again. It has to get done. Procrastination is not an option. After all, these are your friends. They don't have to know that you were bawling your eyes out about this stupid assignment. 

 Taking another steadying breath, you wipe the remainder of your tears off your make-up-less face onto Bucky's soft T-shirt, before turning out of his embrace to march confidently into Tony's Lab. "Hey Tones, your presence is required in the Commons." You call as you walk in the door. Knowing that Friday would've warned you if Tony had been in the middle of something delicate. 

 "What is it for? I want to get this sequence reconfigured. Can it wait?" Tony said, his full attention on a large display of Smalltalk equational programming floating off of his Holotable. 

 "Nope, if you don't come now, you don't get to participate, let Friday do the reconfiguration code. It will be done by the time you get back. If you come and keep your attitude to a minimum, I'll let you use me as a scapegoat for your next prank." You try to bribe when he looked offended that I'd suggest such a thing.

 "Any prank? Even if it's against loverboy?" Tony perked, throwing a truly roguish smirk over your shoulder. 

 "As long as no one is injured or harmed. But to make sure that I can cover your ass, you need to fill me in on the joke BEFORE you pull it." You say herding him away from the endless rows of code while he is occupied with his next plot. 

  When you finally make it to the Commons, The rest of the Avengers are gathered on the couches. All seemed to be in a decent enough mood. Taking a deep breath, you look to Bucky for direction on how to implement this plan of his. 

 He gives your hand a squeeze as he guides you to the middle of the sectional. Holding you from behind, he clears his throat. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming to this impromptu meeting. I know you guys were probably doing nothing, anyway, but I appreciate you coming down here. Doll, here, needs some help from us. Well, you guys, since apparently, I am biased." His tone is light as he brings attention to us.

 You can't help but feel that knot of uncertainty come back as he speaks, though. You try your best to hide the shaking of your hands by holding onto Bucky's forarms that rest tightly around your middle, grounding you into the moment. Please just let this be quick. 

 "You are biased," you grumble. "You have to say the best things because you are my boyfriend. It makes for a skewed view on what my friends think of me." 

 "She does have a point, Buck. You tend to have neverending heart-eyes whenever anything is about her. Though that is reasonable, seeing as she is your girl. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have a shade or two of rose to your glasses." Steve said from his station in on the nearest end of the couch to the door. 

 "If his glasses are tinted any pinker, they won't be able to be seen through." Scoffed Sam from the other end of the couch. 

 "Doesn't matter," Bucky cut in before there could be any more railroading. "Y/N has an essay that she has to write but couldn't find the right inspiration for the prompt. Seeing as it pertains to our views on her, I felt it necessary to bring our expertise into the mix."

 "Oh, What's the prompt?" Bruce asked from the corner of the window seat. 

 "It's stupid, It's an essay on the word that your friends and family would use to describe you. Well, in this case, describe me." You say to the oak coffee table that separated the majority of them from you and Bucky. 

 "Doll, stop hating, and just accept the help." He whispered into your 

 "Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Come on, guys, what words describe Y/N?" Tony said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together from the place he found next to Natasha.

 "Friday, can you make a list on the monitor, so we don't forget any?" Steve asked the AI helpfully.

 "Good idea, I'll start with eccentric," Nat stated.

 "Bubbly."

 "Funny."

 "Smart."

 "Out-going."

 "Playful."

 "Creative."

 "Hardworking."

 "resourceful, Multi-talented, Impressive."

 "Badass."

 "Stubborn." 

 Words just kept coming at incredible speed before there was a ding at the elevator. "Mrs. (Y/L/N), The package you ordered last night needs to be signed for if you wouldn't mind." Friday cut in. 

 As more words were being piled onto the TV screen, you turned toward the elevator. "It's here already??" you asked, making your way to the waiting delivery man. I quickly signed for the package before coming back to the group. Ripping into the box without care as Tony and Clint argued over positive and negative words on the list.

 Letting out an excited squeal while you pulled the long, sky-blue cape out of the box and swishing it over your shoulders, clasping it easily, and spinning in a circle to make it swish out. It was just as you imagined. Silky, soft, and absolutely perfect for everything. When you finally came back to the conversation you found yourself at the center of attention, everyone's eyes were on you in different mixes of amusement and exasperation. 

 "Where you going, Miss Bennet?" Tony laughed out.

 "What do you mean, where am I going? This is my house cape. Don't you have one? It's the latest fashion." You bite back, raising your head in indignation. "I love it, I am going to wear it. EVERYWHERE."

 As everyone's faces split into the biggest smiles, Peter walked into the room, tossing his backpack onto the floor as he took a seat between Sam and Steve. 

 "No Capes!" He said, lovingly referencing the Incredibles. Sending a ripple of laughs through the group of superheroes. "So what has you so Extra today, Y/N?"  

 "Nothing, I just saw this for sale while I was doing research for my recital dress and thought it would be nice." You respond fondly, feeling invincible in the cape. 

 "THAT'S IT! YOUR WORD IS EXTRA!" Clint said, springing from his perch. Everyone looked contemplative for a moment before nodding. 

 "Agreed. It's perfect. You give extra in everything you do." Steve said, not really getting the modern connotation.

 Even though it isn't any of the words that you thought they would choose, you can't really complain. Especially when it gives you the privilege of wearing your Couture Cape around the tower, just because you want to.

 Smiling at Bucky, you raised slightly on your toes to kiss his cheek, whispering a thank you. And with that, you whooshed off to write the worst essay in your academic career. Leaving the bickering and astounded Avengers in your wake.

[thepilgrimofwar]

Warplanning 1 - Edited Roll20 Log

[Backdated to after Whiskey & Rye and before Business as Usual & An Offering unto War]

[Event Start]

The day after the funeral had filled itself with both tension and dread. Messages and letters came and went. They were a mix of requests for help, proclamations to the people of the realm, declarations of war and eagerly awaited responses. But the highlight of the day began in earnest after the arrival of soldiers and sell-swords from across the realm, and the War Meeting was delayed as long as it could be in anticipation for the officers, retainers, friends, and ex-colleagues of those from the Sunguard.

Beathyn called together everyone in the manor who had answered the calls for help from himself, Vissehn, Lirelle. “Please gather round, by the dining hall!” He yelled, through the manor. He’d have used a dinner if Solendis had let him. That always seemed to gather people faster than anything official he could say outloud.

Judereth looks out at everyone gathered in the dining hall. Before the Lord of the Emberglades was the map of the provinces. Banners and tokens lay across its surface, moved to represent the forces at play. "Thank you all for coming. I am Judereth Swiftquiver. Banneret of what remains of the soldiers of the Heartland and all of its militia." She nods at Stenden.

Stenden speaks up, briefing the ones round the table. "So, the news is in and the die is cast. House Illithia, whose assassins had graced us with their presence yesterday- Is backed by House Goodember. Opening two fronts- East and West-" He marks it out on the map infront of him.

Stenden:"House Wintergale has refused to answer our pleas for help. Declaring their independence and swearing fealty directly to the crown. We'll... Need to address this eventually. But at least we don't have a third front to worry about in the South."

"So we are alone." He states.

Thanidiel:"Neutrality isn't a bad thing. It fucks the enemy's movements too."

Ethalarian sits with his arms folded across his chest as the situation is laid bare to the group. He drums his fingers on his biceps and gives a slight shake of his head. "So business as usual for us: outnumbered and outflanked with unreliable help."

Lirelle |“The Cloudrend Glades can be dealt with once this war is over. Once we have destroyed the greater threat we can march what forces we have up there to replace him with someone more loyal.” She glances at Zarannis. A suggestion perhaps.

Esheyn rolls her shoulders. "Business as usual, indeed. Nothing we aren't accustomed to."

Ethalarian nods across the table to Esheyn.

Thanidiel:"Last I remember, Sederis never spoke well of this... Goodember, right? Can he be intimidated back into line?"

Stenden he looks to the ones gathered at the table. All of them had answered the call, some of them knowing full well of the consequences. He hears that this seems to be business as usual to those gathered at the table and doesn't know if he should smile or frown. "That's... Good, I suppose. Given current circumstances. If it is in-fact business as usual. But as it stands, it looks like a desperate situation to the militia and citizens of the Heartlands."

Lirelle:“Goodember is fat, weak, and stupid. Use him to set an example, we have already delayed a counterattack for far too long. You need to strike now to send a message, show them what happens to traitors.”

Isilos nodded to Lirelle, he was proud death didn't change her too much.

Oosaarn:"Unless you got friends hiding somewhere, pick the weaker opponents off first. Leave just enough to hold off the other until you can send your full might against them."

Judereth:"I've already have men digging in on both fronts- Repelling what advances have already been made in the past  hours. Are you suggesting that we... Attack?"

Oosaarn:"Would you rather sit here and wait to be torn in two?"

Lirelle nods. "As we should have, days ago."

Judereth:"Days ago? With who might I ask? I'm still mobilizing the majority of the militia- And the garrisons are barely enough to hold the line as it is."

Lirelle:"Inaction comes off as weakness. I'm sure you have more than a handful of men who are eager to taste their first battle? The best of those should have been sent out to skirmish once war was declared."

Thanidiel:"Dawnstalker is here, we have Crows and two dozen of my personal followers."

Ethalarian Dawnstalker grunts.

Thanidiel:"Furthermore - we don't even have to field enough to annihilate them. We just need to find the weak aristocracy you're so fond of around here and dangle him and his offspring off the walls until he pledges his swords."

[Dealing with Shalemarch & House Goodember]

Lirelle:"With the Crows I can have Goodember's head for you in two days."

Lirelle points at Aravel. "They know the way into his manor, likely as not."

Thanidiel:"Who are you?"

Aravel smiles. "I'm nobody, at least on paper. Dawnveil will not get involved in this, but well, we're free citizens, and a chance to take that pompous bastard down a peg is always welcomed." She turns to Judereth. "There's twenty more outside, we'll need uniforms. Can't have people seeing us in our armour, even if it is better."

Stenden smiles as Aravel speaks up. "We're glad to have your assistance, as unofficial as it is."

Ethalarian:"Barring that, your people have a thing for honorable oaths and strength of arm don't they?"

Stenden turns towards Ethalarian, "And they do. Oaths are what hold the land together. At least they did before these... Unruly lords broke theirs."

Judereth shook her head. "I'm not sure if you've ever worked with militia before Ms. Dawnbrook. Organizing and gathering strength is not inaction. Perhaps you might have the luxury of professional troops but I do not. But no matter. If you think you can mount a counter offensive, I can provide you with the best and most eager troops available. They'll be glad to be of aid."

Thanidiel:"Oaths are interpretable. Do not rely on them."

Ethalarian shrugs again. "Then call them out. Publically. If you think it worth the effort, single combat is something of a specialty of mine." The knight scratches his chin and blows out a sigh. "I don't know much about these lands, but I could always embarrass these Houses and their Champions for you."

Ethalarian:"If that doesn't work, you can always go with Highdawn dangling their children from battlements. That's something of a specialty of hers."

Oosaarn:I'm neither sooldier nor Sunguard anymore. I fight for whatever cause I choose whenever I damn well please."

Judereth:"That is good to know."

Lirelle nods at Judereth. "Save your men. The less we go in with, the better. The mountains are hard enough to pass with just a handful of people."

Thanidiel:"I do the dirty work," is her plain agreement. She can't deny that even if he is not saying it out of camaraderie.

Ethalarian is definitely not.

Judereth turns towards Lirelle. "You say, you can give me Lord Goodember's head in days." She states skeptically.

Lirelle:"By weeks end."

Judereth:"Behind enemy lines. Which could be thousands- If Goodember has mobilized at the rate we have."

Vissehn yawns and rubs the back of his neck, only just now tuning in. "I mean why can't we assassinate the dude back?"

Vissehn:"Like. Just off him. He doesn't have fuckin' friends like us waiting in the wings."

Vissehn motions down the table to the gathered killers and soliders.

Lirelle simply motions at Aravel.

Ethalarian wonders which of those categories he falls into.

Solendis clears his throat. "As much as I'd like to say that we shouldn't- Due to diplomatic repercussions. Assassination will serve us best in these... Times."

Thanidiel:"What are numbers? He cannot fit his thousands in his castle, 'lest he is tucking them under his gut."

Muroco stretches his limbs with indifference, his plates creaking with the motion.

Vissehn looks to Solendis. "I'm just saying he's a shit grandfather, not like you're gonna be missing Wintersveil gifts or summar."

Thanidiel:"Two men fit in a corridor. And I doubt he will ever be expecting or or have men swift enough to catch up to us when we're in."

Judereth:nods at Thanidiel. "His troops are too busy mounting assaults on the Eastern lines worry about protecting their manor. At most he'll have his houseguard with him. Good men, but few in number. Majority of them paid mercenaries."

Vissehn hooks a thumb at Thanidiel! She's Smart! Smartest tin can!

Aravel points a finger at the map, directly at the mountain range that stretched across the flank of Shalemarch. "We know the ways in and out of here. His estate sits right up against the mountain, in what used to be a quarry before his ancestors plundered it. A quarry which is... fairly well mapped. Like she says, I can guide a portion of her men right up to his door, but the rest is on her."

Ethalarian:"Is he going to be worth a shit if we do?"

Lirelle:"If you strike his forces on the front itself to take attention away, the Crows and I will only need one night."

Stenden frowns. "If we're going to kill Nelio Goodember, we must be prepared for all of Shalemarch to fall into chaos shortly after. They'll be out of the war, but I am not sure if I want to consign the entire province to the whims of mercenaries and sell-swords that no doubt make up the core of their forces."

Esheyn:"He could be used as a bargaining chip."

Esheyn shrugs.

Stenden:"I'd prefer to have him captured." He nods at Esheyn. "And used to bargain if possible."

Thanidiel:"You hold him in a cell with his stupid little noble stamp and you now have full control of Shalemarch."

Lirelle:"Kill him."

Thanidiel:"No disorder, no unexpected variables."

Lirelle:"Kill him and offer his men a pardon if they fight for their true lord."

Vissehn:"Hostages are good leverage."

Thanidiel:"Pardons are only good when you overwhelm them."

Judereth smiles at the turn of events. "Either works for me. My job is to win."

Thanidiel:"Otherwise it's easier to go bandit like the boy said."

Ethalarian shrugs and goes back to leaning in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks very, very tired.

Thanidiel:"Proxy control is simply the most strategic way to keep a people in order."

Lirelle:"Goodember's only worth as a bargaining chip is his men. If they can be acquired in some other fashion, he is much more worth it as a cautionary example. Garris himself would know better, but lesser mercenary companies can always be absorbed under a stronger banner."

Vissehn:"Barring, uh. Present company, its usually harder to un-dead a person than to just keep 'em alive just in case and you can also kill them in the end if it becomes necessary."

Stenden claps his hands. "If what you say is true, and you are absolutely confident in success given your... History. I approve." He looks to Lirelle. "Capture Goodember. Bring him back here and we'll see if we can bring an entire front to a close by the end of the week." He looks to Judereth. "Banneret- Hold the line.Don't cause death if you don't have to. Remember that our enemies will be our citizens once this war is done with."

Esheyn 's stony expression melts just a bit at that, her lips twisting into a smirk.

Vissehn grins at Esheyn! See! He's helping!

Lirelle:"Heads are lighter. Do you know how fat he is?"

Iiloridan coughs from his end of the table, torn between horror and dark amusement.

Stenden frowns even more at Lirelle's comment.

Thanidiel:"I can go with you."

Thanidiel:"What is your noble to a goblin king?"

Lirelle:"Much taller, for one."

Thanidiel:"Like rotted lumber."

Thanidiel does not at all seem serious.

Ethalarian:"You two haven't lost your touch I see."

Vissehn:"It's like old times, could wipe away a tear."

Esheyn:"Some things never change."

Thanidiel just kinda, grunts back to the peanut gallery just like Ethalarian did earlier. "I would recommend the ex-Pathfinders amongst us if anyone were to support Lirelle."

Lirelle looks at Stenden for a few seconds, weighing up whether she should press the point now or in private. At last she ends with "If you insist on him being alive, I will do my best."

Lirelle:"I'll make sure to tell Garris you volunteered him for the heavy lifting Highdawn."

Vissehn lifts his hand.

Lirelle nods at Vissehn. "Come to my rooms later, we can speak about the details."

Judereth smiles. "That's one front I don't have to worry about then. If that is so, I can send the majority of the militia west-wards to the front with Illithia." He looks at Lirelle, then nods at her. "I'll be able to mount a massive counter-offensive." She looks at the others at the table. "The Emberglades rely on militia, Illithia included. They are vast in numbers but are ultimately no more than peasants who drill every couple of years. None are blooded. None have seen combat- All of those that did, perished with Sederis, light rest his soul. That said, I'd like to make use you and yours as shock troops- The tip of the spear that I intend to drive deep into the heart of Illithia."

Thanidiel:"Sometimes the hatchling has to be kicked out of the nest," is her retort to the woman alongside her.

"--I do not think anyone here will turn down a jaunt into frontlines."

Ethalarian had opened his mouth to ask a question, only to have it answered for him. Tired eyes give Judereth a once-over and he purses his lips, rolling the idea around a little.

Judereth:"If there are no objections, I'll have the rest of out who aren't involved in this... Subterfuge, marching with the troops westwards. I'll provide you with the best men I can. Provided that you're up to the challenge of commanding them.”

[Dealing with matters of the frontlines]

Orbaniwix "AHEM." A goblin clears his throat in the corner of the room. "Or- if militia ain't your thing! Me and present company prefer to be paid in coin- rather than debt!"

Thanidiel:"--what is that?"

'Where is that sound coming from?"

Ethalarian:"A buzzing fly."

Thanidiel:"That must be why it came from near Fish."

Beathyn waggles his finger at the goblin and men in the corner. "That is Orbaniwix- Gun maker- Cannon Maker- and over all mercenary agent. I invited him because I thought we might need some extra... fire-power."

Ethalarian:"Ah, yes. Goblin firearms. Well renowned for their reliability, especially if you prefer them blowing up in your face."

Orbaniwix folds his arms in disatisfaction at Thanidiel's mannerisms. Tapping his foot on the crate he stands on. "Well. In either case, if you need men, I've got men, if you need guns, I've got guns. Take it or leave it."

Muroco sighs, the bass of his voice rumbling as he wipes one of his hands down his face.

Vissehn looked at the goblin and nodded. One litle Creachur to another.

Zwiess Mercenary eyes the Goblin, then looks at the others in the room. "We're men of quality. Even if our... Agent doesn't make it seem so."

Thanidiel:"I do not believe much of us have expertise in firearms aside from... Beathyn."

Thanidiel squints at Iilordian. Maybe if his cousin were here...

Beathyn spreads his arms as wide as he can. "Big Guns- Not just Firearms-" he has a grin on his face as he says this.

Winged Hussar:"In either case, our horses are ready. If shock troops are what you need, Baneret. You can make use of us if the others will not."

Vissehn:"Wait like canons."

Beathyn nods excitedly at Vissehn.

Thanidiel:"That is what is implied that a 'Cannon-maker' produces."

Iiloridan casts an faux-innocent look Thanidiel's way. 'Fire the cannons' who?

Vissehn leans forward. He is definitely sipping that starbucks and not paying attention. "I want canons."

Orbaniwix claps his oversized hands together. "Excellent! You'll be able to pick one up for the low-low price of Nine-ninety-nine!"

Thanidiel:"Nine-ninety-nine what?"

"Bushels of wheat?"

Ethalarian quietly wonders how he continually finds himself in the company of such...-colorful- people, for lack of a better term. He should've said no.

Thanidiel:"What does 'one' imply here?"

Orbaniwix throws his hands in the air. "Big ones! Gold! Coin!" Thanidel had successfully exasperated the little green man.

Thanidiel:"Hmm."

[Dealing with House Wintergale & The Cloudrend Glades]

Zarannis waits until the attention returns to the map at hand. "What of Wintergale?" she states, leaving her question hanging in the air.

Thanidiel:"What is your tie to Wintergale?"

Vissehn looks at the familiar tattoo on Zarannis face and his expression immediately sours.

Zarannis:"None, officially. I was disowned two-centuries back."

Vissehn:"Yeah and went slummin."

Muroco:"I'll just wait outside until this is all done."

Zarannis ignores the youth. It wasn't worth fighting over at this time of the afternoon.

Lirelle:"As I said, Wintergale can be dealt with after we get rid of Ilithia."

Thanidiel lofts a single platinum brow across the way to Vissehn. An ear flicks. Confusion is plainly there as her attention dies.

Stenden:"Like Dawnbrook said. We will deal with them at a later date. Their loyalty, officially as recognized under the Crown, lies with Emberheart. So we'll have just cause."

Thanidiel:"If they're independent, they're an obstacle to -everyone-, not just Emberheart. It's a... good thing, and can be afforded to handle on a different day."

Ethalarian casts a quick sidelong glance at Oosaarn. The big Orc was being oddly quiet. Wasn't this one always going on about death and honor and other...Orc things? Odd.

Vissehn cants his head. "I can confirm if they're really as neutral as they're claimin."

Beathyn raises a hand. "Might I interject- Couldn't we... Talk to them? You said it yourself young Lord. Enemies today are our citizens tomorrow. Why not just hasten the process? We might be able to open a second front on Illithia and flip the entire war on its head."

Vissehn:"I got friends in the Hawks still, don't take much to bypass a seal an' read a letter."

Vissehn snorts at Beathyn. "Like they'd tell the honest truth."

Zarannis frowns. "Disowned or not. I'd prefer if we didn't have to kill my countrymen."

Zarannis:"The Wintergales are an honest bunch."

Thanidiel:"No one said anything about killing."

Ethalarian:"Technically anyone we kill are your countrymen."

Thanidiel:"Though I understand the jump."

Zarannis squints at Thanidiel. "When it comes to how the Emberhearts deal with people later. It usually ends in killing."

Vissehn looks to Stenden. "I'm gonna read their mail and see what we got on 'em." It's not phrased as a request.

Lirelle:"Your father made that decision for them already. Unless you care to reverse it?"

Thanidiel:"Then maybe it's up to you to figure out a way to handle it earlier."

Stenden shoots a look at Zarannis. "Enough." They can smell the scent of whiskey off her and took that into account. "Is there anyone else here willing to speak with them at all?"

Zarannis folds her arms. Not liking the implications they were making of what she should do.

Thanidiel:"I do not wish to accompany Lirelle on matters of subterfuge as much as I value our companionship. But I would pledge to the frontlines or... strongarming as desired by the Lordling here."

Ethalarian:"Define 'speak' with them."

Thanidiel:"--I want Dawnstalker with me too in the latter case."

Ethalarian 's ear flicks.

Thanidiel:"Bad Blood Knight... and Bad Blood Knight." She says this so deadpan.

Lirelle:"I agree that your real value lies on the field Highdawn, but I appreciate the sentiment."

Ethalarian SQUINTS.

Thanidiel:"Esheyn can be the Good Blood Knight."

Beathyn waves his arms at Ethalarian. "Actually speak with them."

Esheyn tilts her head, that smirk still on her face. "But of course."

Beathyn:"I'll be willing to go. On your behalf of course." He gestures to the family.

Vissehn shoots Beathyn a LOOK. He won't be one upped! "I can do that too. And read their mail. But also talk."

Thanidiel:"You're already with Lirelle."

Vissehn:"I can go lots of places--"

Thanidiel:'You have to choose your parent."

Esheyn:"Two Winter Veils."

Thanidiel smiles ever-so minutely with Esheyn's backup there.

Vissehn squints.

[Summary]

Judereth continues. "After we break their front-lines and have them on the run. You'll be free to... Do what you've planned."

Judereth leans forward over the warmap. "So. Lirelle and company will take care of Goodember. Freeing up my men for a counter-attack against Illithia." She moves the tokens to illustrate. "We'll hold then in the east."

Ethalarian:"About the only thing I'm good for is swinging a sword." He shrugs again for the fiftieth time tonight because that's apparently his default mode of communication. He's very expressive. Clearly.

Stenden nods. "To speak Wintergale and see what can be done about his loyalty. Preferably without bloodshed."

Ethalarian barks a very, very short laugh. That's optimistic.

Thanidiel:"Maybe the disowned one will be sober by then." Ouch.

Lirelle:"She's smelled like that for days now."

Zarannis tsked. But made no other response. Knowing that she was absolutely right.

Thanidiel:"I'm surprised you smell."

Lirelle:"When she smells that strongly, I can pick up the scent."

Thanidiel:"Consider a spar or 'thistle to burn off your feelings."

Ethalarian:"I could use a warmup. And a drink."

Stenden gives all of them smile. A growing hope began to rise in his chest. If this worked- If all of it played out as he had hoped- Then the war could be won after all.

[Event End]

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guildwars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

The following week, Kaleb was assigned the task of managing the supply line. As he was busy offloading some crates, Brad and Cynthia were off the distance observing his actions from afar. Both were currently taking a short break from the grueling task of maintaining the fortifications.

"That boy seems to go non-stop. How does it do it in this heat?" Cynthia asked as she unwrapped a sandwich then split it between her and Brad.

Snatching the piece from her hand, Brad quickly wolfed down his share. "You got me. Something seems to keep him going. But whatever it is, I'm not complaining."

"He's so eager to take assignments whenever they involve going into town for supplies. Each time he comes back, he's always coming up with some new recipe for the cooks," Cynthia noted.

"Like I said. I'm not complaining. But it does seem a little odd that he enjoys going to that butcher shop so much."

"I second you on the odd part. Somehow I just can't imagine a guy like him being interested in frequenting an establishment run by a couple of charrs."

Brad flung his hands up in the air and grinned. "He's his own fellow. Even though we've known each other since we were knee-high to grasshoppers, that boy sometimes acts like he's a thousand miles away from everyone."

Hours later, after the work had been completed, Kaleb joined up with his two closest comrades in the mess hall. Shuffling between the tightly packed masses of sweaty troops, he managed to find an open bench slot just opposite of Brad and Cynthia.

"What's up?" Kaleb scooted towards the edge of his bench nearly pushing a much smaller soldier off his seat.

"Sorry about that."

The solder only grumbled then proceeded to eat, pretending that the incident never happened.

"Glad you could join us on this fine occasion," Cynthia commented.

"Occasion? Do tell!"

Brad chimed in. "Haven't you heard? Centaurs are pulling back. Supply lines from other routes are now open. That means we won't be needing to make trips into town all the time."

Kaleb looked up rather stunned. "Nobody ever told me about this. When did this happen?"

"Captain announced it yesterday. Starting next week, our supplies will be coming via the east road directly from Divinity's Reach," Cynthia stated.

"So I'm guessing that means we won't be needing that meat market for our supplies anymore," Kaleb said in a downtrodden voice.

"The market was used due to a wartime emergency. Now that emergency has been lifted and the Queen’s gold can be spent financing our own people. Don't try to burst with too much excitement," she quipped.

Brad looked at his friend. "You oughta be happy, bro. All this shuttling back and forth plus putting your time in on the front lines is going to catch up to you sooner or later."

"Don't worry. I'm fine. Besides, that means there is still one more supply run left for me to make before the changes take effect."

"I'll come with if you would like," Brad offered.

Kaleb shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I can do this run myself. You just see that Cyn is taken care of."

"Um, excuse me?? I'm a big girl yanno. If anyone needs taking care of it's you two losers. Oh. And congrats on making corporal, Kal... you deserved it!" Sergeant Waterstone smiled as she gave him a salute.

The newly minted corporal returned the gesture then quickly chowed down on his rations. Realizing just how bad army food tasted whenever anyone else did the cooking, Kaleb would make it a point to put in some extra KP time whenever possible. Since he no longer had to make the forty mile round trip to Triskell, he would now have more time to put towards satisfying the stomachs of his unit.

As the trio was in the process of departing from the mess hall table, one of the field operatives approached the sergeant then handed her a folded envelope. "Ma'am. Scouting reports indicate that centaur activity has increased along the roads during the past two days. Advise extra caution for all convoys that travel the south roads."

"Thanks corporal. I will relay those orders. Dismissed."

Cynthia then grabbed Kaleb by the arm then looked him in the eyes. "Hold up. I know you are scheduled for a supply run today. But due to the centaurs, I would feel better if you had an escort."

"Sarge. Having someone else would put an extra person at risk. I'll bring some extra pistols along just in case things get hairy. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Sergeant Waterstone let out a heavy sigh. "As much as I am tempted to order you an escort, your logic does make sense. Our troops are stretched thin and having one extra person would really not make much of a difference anyway. Okay. Fine, then. Move out, but be sure to carry some extra shots and powder for good measure."

"Will do, sarge."

As Kaleb left to prepare his supply wagon for another run, Brad approached Cynthia with a questioning look on his face. "So are you just going to let him go out there by himself? There are bands of centaurs roaming those hills. If Kal happens to run into one, he's done for."

"Don't worry, corporal. He's not going to be alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Get your quiver ready and make sure your axes are sharpened for battle. You and I are going on a little reconnaissance mission."

"Spying on a friend is more like it," Brad chided.

"Not exactly. We are just going to hang back near the edge of town just to make sure he doesn't run into any unpleasant surprises. Trust me. Whatever business he has with the shop owner is his own. I just want to make sure he's safe, but I also don't want to have him watched over like a mother hen either."

The corporal nodded in agreement then gave Waterstone a swift salute before leaving.

Kaleb had loaded up the supply wagon with an extra box of powder and shot. Tucked under his jerkin were four pairs of nine-inch muzzle-loading flintlocks. He was hoping the trip would go off without a hitch, but wanted the extra firepower just in case.

***

By the time he arrived in town, the midday sun had begun to shine intensely overhead. The moisture from the lake-effect air helped him cool off a bit, but it also made him sweat even more.

When he arrived at the meat market, he reached around the back of the supply wagon and lifted up a large, ten-gallon tin container. Milk supplies were beginning to run low and having a few buffer rations was never a bad thing.

When he opened the door, the familiar steam whistle went off letting the owner know that a patron had entered. As usual, Ludrick was standing behind the meat counter busily setting out various fresh cuts of meat.

"Hi, Kaleb. What's it gonna be today?" He asked in a seemingly cheerful tone.

"Good news and bad news, sir. Good news - it's a light order. I only need some fresh milk. Bad news - supply routes are now open and the army has decided to take their supply line business elsewhere," Kaleb said with a frown as he set the empty tin container on the floor.

"Bah. That doesn't surprise me. Sooner or later the crown was going to favor a supplier that was governed by your people," Ludrick said as he finished up with the last of the meats in the display counter.

"I do hope the Queen has paid you handsomely for all the goods you supplied our troops. Even though I'm not an accountant, I still have receipts from every transaction that was made on the armys' behalf," Kaleb said as he pulled out several copied bills of sale.

"Queen Jenna was true to her word. We have been paid in full up to last week's shipment, but I expect that one will clear also within a matter of days. For what it's worth, thank you for giving us your business," the old charr veteran said with a respectful bow of his head.

"Glad to do business," Kaleb returned the bow, "anyway, where's Amalthia?"

"Funny thing you should ask... she's out back milking the cows."

"Mind if I go say hi?"

"Suit yourself. Just watch where you step. If you track anything in, you get to clean it up."

Kaleb nodded then proceeded to work his way through the hallway adjoining the door that led out to the back of the lot. When he opened the door, he noticed a large cow pen and a row of stalls just off to the side. Further out lay a field lined with a row of straw-thatched dummies. He deduced that it must be a target range of some sort.

Only charrs would have gunnery ranges in their own backyards, he thought musingly.

"Kaleb! Over here."

He heard Amalthia's pristine voice coming from just behind the furthest stall. When he saw her poke her head out from the wooden barricade, he immediately rushed forward. She was sitting on a milking stool, her hands clasped on the bovine's udders moving them in an alternating fashion. As she was performing the procedure, streams of the pearly white substance spurted down into a large metal tub that rested between her feet.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just needed to pick up an extra order of ten gallons of milk."

Amalthia stood up then wiped off the excess milk from her silken fur hands. "You have a knack for being at the right place at the right time. Because, I was just in the process of gathering a batch for purifying."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kaleb asked.

"Have you milked a cow before?"

"Never."

"Well, there's always a first time. Go ahead, give it a shot." She got up then gestured for him to have a turn at the udders.

With trepidation, Kaleb carefully grabbed hold of the elongated appendages and tried a series of gentle squeezing motions. To his dismay, nothing came out. Undeterred, he hunched over then pointed one of the udders towards his face hoping to see if any milk would be forthcoming. But as he was massaging the teat, a long stream of pearly white liquid spat directly into his face.

Upon seeing the event, Amalthia let out a long laugh. Kaleb then turned to her as streams of raw milk ran down his face then onto his collar.

"You pathetic little mouse, that's not how you do it. Oh my. That look is just... priceless!"

When he saw Amalthia laugh, something hit him inside like a hammer. He couldn't quite explain it but the pitch of her voice and the nature of her fanged smile just made his heart skip several beats.

She grabbed one of the sanitary towels that she had brought out during the milking session then walked over to Kaleb and began to dab it across his face. With fluid strokes of her hand she wiped the offending milk off of his face.

"I gather you are too civilized for farm life," she said as she tossed him the now dirty towel.

"Uh. Like I said, I've never done this before." Kaleb used the towel to wipe up some of the residue that managed to work its way into his dark brown hair.

"That's obvious. Come sit down and I'll show you how it's done."

Amalthia gestured for him to sit on the stool and to use his feet to stabilize the milking pan. She walked to the other side of the cow then knelt down as she opened her large clawed hands.

"Grab hold of the two longest udders. Now, follow my motions."

She gently clasped hold of his hands, and then began a slow rhythmic massaging motion. The leathery pads on the palms of her furred hands felt pleasantly warm when they met the backs of Kaleb's own hands. Her warmth felt soothing, comforting even.

Within moments, jets of the pearly white liquid began spurting out. Along with the cyclic motion of the udders, he could feel Amalthia's warmth coursing through his hands. The undulating motion caused his body to tingle with pleasure. And to his chagrin, he could feel a pleasurable sensation in another part of his anatomy as well.

Oh gods. What's happening? What am I thinking?

"Kaleb. Are you alright? Or is feeling cow tits giving you the willies?"

He choked on the question for a moment.

"No. I'm fine. I think."

"Your face is red, I know. What causes that anyway? And what's that smell coming off of you?"

Kaleb immediately pulled his hands away then quickly wiped them with the towel. He took a few deep breaths then ducked his head down trying to get the blood rushing back into his brain.

"I'm done with this for now. I just... I just wanted to get some milk and be on my way that's all."

"It will take at least an hour to purify. So, in the meantime, what will you be doing then?" She asked as she stepped around to see him.

Kaleb quickly rose up from the stool while turning away from her. He didn't want to embarrass either of them by revealing what was going on inside his pants.

"Sorry. I just felt light-headed that's all. Hey! I still remember my promise. Did you want to...?"

"You have my permission..." She interjected.

"Permission? Whadda mean?"

She gave him a fangy smile while he was still turned away hoping his raging manhood would subside.

"You may call me Amalthia."

Upon hearing the news, the rage in his southern region came back with a vengeance once more.

"There you go emitting that funny odor again."

After they had gathered all the pails of un-sanitized milk and placed them in the purifying vat, Amalthia beckoned for Kaleb to come around the side entrance. Leading up to a door on the second story, was a flight of stairs.

"Would you like to come up?" She asked.

"Is that your place? Where you live?"

"No. It's a dungeon. Just remind me to kick you down the stairs once you reach the top for asking such a stupid question!" She said in her typical laconic fashion.

"I thought you didn't want me to go up there. You know - personal stuff, not business-related."

"We have over an hour to kill before the milk's even ready. In the meantime, what are we going to be doing? Trading insults and driving my sire to our last keg of mead?"

When she opened the door to her room, Kaleb was immediately blown away at all of the military equipment that was lying about. He could see suits of armor, mortar tubes and various types of weaponry that adorned nearly every square inch of space. Next to her bed was a heavy wood table with a variety of welding torches as well as other soldering tools strewn about on its surface.

"Wow. This stuff is amazing!"

He walked over and saw an emblem of a gear cog on a large spiked shield. From its design, he immediately knew what it represented.

"So you were Iron legion, right?"

"Still am and proud of it too!" Amalthia said beamingly.

"So where's your warband?"

"I no longer have one. I'm currently a gladium."

Kaleb was taught enough charr history to know what that meant. "Sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. Like I said, there are some things about me you would not want to know. Now what was it about that dessert you had promised?"

"You don't mind going out? I mean... to get a bite to eat, that is."

"Of course not! The fresh air does me good every once in awhile. Just give me a few to clean up and we'll be on our way," Amalthia said as she began removing some of her outer garments.

Kaleb saw what she was doing and started to blush profusely. When he watched her removing all of her clothing, the lump in his throat made it very hard for him to breath normally.

Amalthia removed the last pieces of her clothing then crouched on her bed covered only in her luxurious pelt. Like an overgrown feline, she began to groom herself, contorting her body in ways no ordinary human could possibly manage. 

When he saw her graceful feline form managing itself, his heart pounded hard against his ribcage as the base of his jaw began to ache from the muscle tension. He could not take his eyes off her.

"Was there something you wanted? You've been staring at me since I started taking a quick bath."

"So sorry... it's just I'm not used to anyone...uhh." Kaleb immediately turned around hoping he didn't embarrass her too badly.

"Let me finish it for you - taking their clothes off? What is it with you humans and clothing anyway? It's like stripping is an invitation to screwing. For your sake, I hope that's not the impression you're getting." Amalthia said as she gracefully bounded from the bed then reached into her dresser for a fresh set of clothes. 

"I'm sorry, Amalthia. I didn't want you to get that impression. It's just being around one of your kind is a new experience for me. There is so much about your people and culture that I don't understand. But I would like to know... I would like to know you more," Kaleb said with a heavy exhale.

"As I would like to know more about you and your people. Granted, it's been historically at the point of a blade, but there are things both of us could learn from each other. I know a good pastry shop and cafe located just down the road. We can go there if you like," Amalthia said as she put on a mauve crop top and  thigh-hugging miniskirt. 

The pastry shop lay just a couple of miles from their location. Amalthia and Kaleb walked together side-by-side as they both took in the sights and sounds of the local atmosphere. Along the way, they received the occasional odd stare from people walking by. The prospect of seeing a human and charr tagging along together was a very unusual sight indeed.

Kaleb and Amalthia sat across from each other over a wrought iron table. Soon afterward, a waitress walked over then handed each of them a menu of the daily specials.

"Hoelbrak Hohos? Brazen butter battered bunt cake smothered in legendary lava chocolate. So where's the cream filling?" Kaleb questioned as he looked over the menu.

"Are all humans as picky as you? Isn't it true that your women go into murderous rages if they don't eat sufficient amounts of chocolate?" Amalthia said while perusing through her own menu items.

"No hun. We kill if our men don't give us any during special occasions," the waitress commented.

"And here I thought your mere presence would scare off all the customers. She even called you 'hun'. See, there still is hope between our peoples," Kaleb jested.

The waitress looked at him with a dumbfounded. "Listen sweetie. This is a port town. We get all kinds. Besides, she's a regular here. So if you know what's good for ya, you had better treat her with respect."

Amalthia stuck her tongue out at Kaleb then closed her eyes in a fangy grin.

"Fine. I'll take the Durmond Priory Dumplings. Easy on the cinnamon, it gives me acid something terrible."

Kaleb folded the menu then handed it to the smarter-than-he-expected waitress.

"And for you, darlin?"

"Azuran blintzes with Krytan puree and Maguuma nuts on the side; shells on, please."

"Drinks?"

"Latte, please," said Kaleb.

Amalthia handed the waitress her menu. "Ascelonian coffee - black."

The waitress wrote their orders down then promptly darted out.

"I heard Zaitan used that stuff to make the risen. How do you drink it and still have any taste buds left?" Kaleb asked jokingly.

"When you do battle with a ninety-proof hangover, it's not the best option; it's the only option," Amalthia replied.

"I never took you for a drinker. The only ones I know who soak in suds are norns and very unhappy humans."

"I'm neither, so it doesn't count."

"So why do you drink?"

Amalthia let out a sigh. "Let's see - one of only two charr in this entire town; exiled from my warband and now a gladium; my mother; a sire who is chronically disabled and drinks too much; my mother; a talented engineer who is waiting for an Iron Legion warband to take her under their wing, but thus far, nada... oh... and did I forget to mention my mother?"

Kaleb sighed too. "I'm so sorry, Amalthia. That's gotta be hard not having any of your people around. I guess I can understand why you stay holed up in your room so much. There aren't many people here you can relate to."

"Now you understand the reason why I need coffee to counteract the strong drink. Welcome to my life."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Sure. Grow horns and fur, act real mean so we can start our own warband and make litters of cubs in the process." Amalthia smirked.

"That stung, Amalthia. I didn't expect that to come out of your mouth."

"Well, it is what you've been thinking, right? Look, even though I don't know your peoples' courtship rituals, it didn't take much for me to figure out what was on your mind."

The waitress came back with their orders. Amalthia immediately dug into her meal while Kaleb just sat for a moment staring at his plate.

"Eat, you!"

"I'm not that hungry... now," he replied as he shoved his dish to the center of the table.

"Look. If it makes you feel better, I honestly do wish we were both the same kind. It would make life so much easier for both of us. But the fact of the matter is, we’re not. We can still be friends. And yes, I do consider you a friend as you have earned that from me. But this other thing you desire simply cannot happen."

"Cannot or should not? There is a huge difference between the two. Anyway, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. You are a really amazing person, for lack of a better word. I've never met anyone quite like you and I would never willingly do anything to jeopardize that."

Kaleb then extended his hand. "Friends?"

Amalthia reciprocated. "Friends!"

"Now eat your meal before you get a headache," she said with a smile.

While he was eating, Kaleb suddenly felt a sharp sting to his right forearm. As he looked over his arm, he saw a Maguuma nutshell zing across the table, landing straight into his lap. Less than a second later, another one flew by, only this time it smacked into his Adam's apple then rolled down his shirt.

"Why you fleabitten..." Kaleb said in a mockingly angry tone as he attempted to stoop over to recover some of the husks in order to return the favor.

Amalthia just laughed as she flicked more shells at him. Her aim was impeccable as each one pegged some sensitive part of his body.

"Dang, woman! You could put somebody's' eye out with those things. This means payback, you know!" Kaleb said as he attempted to return fire with the shells he had scavenged from under the table.

"Get it straight, mouse. I am charr! Cower before the ferocious fusillade of my mighty Magumma nut barrage!"

"Hey! What you're doing isn't helping. This is the kind of stuff that turns me on even more," Kaleb responded with uncontrollable laughter.

Upon those words, Amalthia immediately stopped. "Okay, okay. Treaty signed. Ceasefire in effect."

Kaleb looked at the angle of the shadows and realized that time, once again, had passed all too quickly.

"I think we had better get back. Judging by the length of the shadows, it's a little more than an hour."

"That's fine. I'll go on ahead and get your milk prepped. Don't try to kill yourself trying to match me at full gait. It'll never happen," Amalthia said just seconds before she dropped to all fours then bounded off towards the shop.

Kaleb saw her graceful gold and white form glide across the cobblestone pavement. He thought to himself how could such a savage creature be so beautiful at the same time. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted... and more importantly whom he wanted.

Her father's shop was just around the corner as she bounded across the sidewalk. Her mind raced thoughts of the human she left standing at the cafe.

Be patient with me, Kaleb. There is so much I want to say to you. If the world cannot accept us for who and what we are then maybe we should just not accept the world with all its stupid rules.

As Amalthia headed to her father's shop, she saw two humans in Seraph battle armor standing in front of the doorway. When she stood back up to greet them, one of them took off their helmet revealing the face of a female.

"I am Sergeant Waterstone of the Thirty-first Brigade. Do you know the whereabouts of a Private Kaleb Grimwald?"

"He will be here within a matter of minutes. I went on ahead to prep the supplies for him in advance," Amalthia responded.

"Centaurs have been raiding our caravans. We've been assigned to act as his escort," Cynthia stated as she placed her helmet back on.

"Those dingleberry fly farmers? Give me five and I'll have his supplies ready... plus a whole lot more!" With the speed of a cat, she dashed through the door.

Within less than five minutes, Kaleb was sprinting towards the two soldiers. As he approached, the taller one gave him a hearty wave.

"Do you ever stop running?"

"Brad! What are you and Cynth, I mean, Sergeant Waterstone doing here? You promised that neither of you were going to be mothering over me," Kaleb said gruffly.

"Change of plans - caravans are getting hit hard by centaur raiding parties. Roaming without an escort is not an option," Sergeant Waterstone said flatly.

The door to the shop suddenly opened followed by a loud clanging noise. As she stepped out, everyone noticed that Amalthia was clad from head to toe in charr battle armor. Slung diagonally across her back was the longest rifle Kaleb had ever seen. Affixed to the advanced weapon, looked what appeared to be a sniping scope.

"Would someone mind giving me a hand with this milk container?" She said as she tilted the container on its side then rolled it towards the cart.

With Kaleb's help the container was hoisted up. Soon afterward, Amalthia herself loped up into the back of the wagon.

"I'm sorry, miss whoever you are, but we aren't allowed to transport non-combatants," Cynthia said in an irritable tone.

"Um. Better brush up on those history books some more, human. Charr are combatants by default."

"She's got a point," said Brad as he fastened his sword around his waist.

Cynthia looked at Kaleb as she pointed to Amalthia. "Are all her people this snarky?"

"She is in a class by herself. Trust me on this one," Kaleb said with a laugh.

Moments later, the shop door opened and another much larger charr stepped out.

"Amalthia. What the hell are you doing?!" Ludrick roared as he tried to steady himself on his cane.

"Just getting some possible shot practice in, sire. I've been meaning to perform a live-fire exercise using this new scope anyway."

"Don't worry about a thing, sir. I'll make sure your baby girl gets home safe and sound," Kaleb said as he opened his overcoat revealing the several pairs of pistols that he had concealed.

"You had better!" Ludrick said as he rested his massive paws upon his sturdy wooden cane.

Be safe, cub. Please come home safely, my most precious treasure.

With the tug of the reins they were off. The soldiers knew that if centaurs accosted their wagon, their only hope would be to fight their way out. Even at top speed, a pack dolyak could only manage fifteen MPH tops; centaurs, on the other hand, could manage twice that speed.

Within the span of an hour they were at the halfway juncture when they reached the crest of the road that led towards the base camp. But as the wagon lurched over the top, Kaleb noticed a large bonfire in the middle of the road.

As the dolyak got closer, the stench of burning flesh pierced their nostrils. To their horror, the bonfire was not a wood bonfire at all but a smoldering mound of corpses from a recently ambushed convoy.

Observing the gruesome scene, Cynthia told Kaleb to swing the cart around the burning mass and to not stop.

"Those poor souls," Kaleb commented as they slowly rode on by.

Within seconds, Amalthia's sensitive ears began to twitch.

"Something is coming this way. I can hear it coming from the ground."

"I can't hear a thing," said Brad who was in the process of stringing up his bow.

"Charr can hear low frequency sounds. We can't," Cynthia commented.

Kaleb looked to the side then noticed movement.

"Forget what she can hear. I see 'em over on the east ridge. Centaurs, incoming!"

Scores of the quad-footed beasts surged over the crest descending upon the hapless travelers like angry locusts. Their battle cries echoed across the plains as their hooves shook the very grown beneath them.

With lightning reflexes, Amalthia loaded then primed her sniper rifle for firing. When the first centaur came into her sights, she rested her longarm upon a bipod, held her breath then gently squeezed off a shot. Within a fraction of a second, the round found its mark then detonated inside the creature's skull causing it to explode like an over pressurized balloon.

"Nice shot!" Kaleb shouted.

"Don't thank me just yet..." Amalthia replied.

Two more high-velocity explosive rounds found their mark on the vanguard chargers. Like the one before them, their craniums also met grizzly, fragmented ends.

"Okay. Now you can thank me," the charr smirked.

The three human soldiers were amazed at the charr's impeccable marksmanship. But in spite of Amalthia downing an impressive number in such a short amount of time, there still remained at least a hundred more of the marauders to contend with.

Brad Pendragon knew his turn would be up next. As soon as the first wave came within range, he lofted several arrows into the air in rapid succession. Seconds later, three more centaurs crumpled over as their broken bodies rolled down the hill.

The gap closure was rapid. It would be only a matter of seconds before they were in range of their shortbows. Sergeant Waterstone told them to abandon the cart then ordered them to tip it over using it as a barricade.

Out of the group, the drum of milk was the first causality. Upon looking at the spilled contents, Kaleb commented. "I promise not to cry."

"Stay behind cover and try to lay down as much suppressing fire as possible. I have an idea," Cynthia said as she looked at the contents that were trickling from the narrow spout at the top of the container.

"Centaurs, fifteen meters. Kal, get ready!" Brad said as he nocced another arrow in his bow.

Kaleb unbuttoned his overcoat revealing six pairs of pistols he had tucked away.

"Spot me, bro. Cynth - get ready to catch load," Kaleb said as he cocked the hammers on all his pistols then pulled the ones from his uppermost pockets.

"Right flank, clear. Go!"

Like a crazed norn charging towards the last keg on a battlefield, Kaleb feinted to the left of the cart. Catching the closest centaur off guard, he fired point blank right between the creature's eyes. As soon as his pistol's only round had been spent he quickly tossed it to Sergeant Waterstone who promptly began repacking it with a new round of shot.

Kaleb fired off his second pistol, felling another of the six-limbed beasts. Each time he finished a shot he repeated the process with Cynthia. Like a deadly ballet dancer he whirled in amongst the clamoring herd dispatching them one by one with carefully choreographed shots to the craniums.

Amalthia was completely mesmerized by the level of agility displayed by the human. In spite of the incredibly inefficient weapons he had been given, he was able to turn them into a deadly work of art thanks, in no small part, to his teammates.

For the moment, the hoofed beasts had fallen back. Obviously in shock by the number of casualties they had incurred at the hands of such a small group.

As soon as a break in the battle occurred, Kaleb made a mad dash for the partially empty milk container.

"Kaleb! What the hell are you doing you witless human! The next round of milk will be for free. Just get back here!"

"No, Amalthia. I think I know what the sarge's plan is. It's all about the fire."

Cynthia then tossed him one of the burlap blankets that had been folded up in the overturned cart. Suddenly, she noticed the centaurs were regrouping for another assault.

Adrenalin was surging through Kaleb's muscles as he made a mad dash towards the blanket while still carrying the half empty container across his back. As soon as he grabbed the burlap item, he headed towards the smoldering wreckage then began pouring the rest of the contents onto the fire.

Almost immediately, the smoke became thick and black from the burning milk. Kaleb threw the blanket over the pyre then rapidly pulled it away using a series of choreographed movements.

"It's okay, miss charr. He's using the milk and blanket to create a smoke signal to alert our troops to our situation," Cynthia said as she saw the centaurs rapidly closing in once more.

Amalthia understood the situation as she unleashed another volley upon the advancing attackers. Brad fired off several more arrows as well.

"Swords everyone. Swords!" Cynthia shouted the command to draw melee weapons as she un-holstered her short sword.

Within moments the hoofed fiends were overrunning the group. One centaur bore down on Amalthia with a heavy hatchet but just as quickly, the beast realized its arms had been reduced to flailing bloody stumps courtesy of Kaleb's longsword.

"Amalthia. May I introduce you to my old friend, Bob. Bob - say hello to my new friend, Amalthia," Kaleb said as he waved his sword around.

"Of all the heroic, glorious names there are in Tyria and you had to call your weapon, Bob??"

"Well, everyone I know names their favorite weapon something. I heard even your people do the same. Me - I just figured I'd pick something out of thin air."

Several more centaurs fell to Kaleb's might (and Bob's sharp edge).

The melee attackers fell back, but the centaur archers advanced. Once they were within firing position, they unleashed volleys of arrows that nearly darkened the sky. Instinctively, Brad and Cynthia grabbed their shields then hunkered down to brace for the arrow storm.

As they were pinned behind the now-heavily arrowed cart, Kaleb noticed that Amalthia's lower back was not covered by any armor. The sky darkened once more and with no time to think things through, Kaleb acted on instinct and threw his body over her vulnerable region.

Just then, a flurry of warhorns sounded. As their noises trumpeted throughout the land, a crescendo of panic began to arise from the centaurs. Within a matter of seconds the remaining herd of marauders galloped in full retreat.

Brad was the first to emerge from the aftermath. He saw a land littered with broken and bloody corpses from all of the centaurs the four of them had slain. He then immediately checked to see the condition of his friends.

"Is... is everyone okay?"

Sergeant Cynthia Watersone coughed trying to clear the dust from her throat. "Fine here. How about the rest of you?"

"I'm alive. Wait..." came Amalthia's voice as she felt an eerie warm sensation running down the right side of her neck.

"Injured? Hold on... It's not me. Oh no... Kaleb??"

She craned her massive neck muscles to see Kaleb resting on her back as blood poured from his nose and mouth. With an agonizing wail of anguish, Amalthia immediately, but carefully pulled him off.

"Oh gods no. Kaleb!" Cynthia said as she helped Amalthia lay him down.

Amalthia cried out as she pulled off part of her jerkin to wipe the blood from his face. When she reached around to put her hand on his back, she could feel the shafts of at least three arrows that had gone into him.

"Oh man. This is so not good, Cynth. We gotta get him to the infirmary now. Otherwise he'll bleed out," Brad said.

"Our boys are here! Brad, you and her try to stabilize him. Use the fire over there to cauterize those wounds. I'll try and find a medic. You hang in there, Kal. Y'hear?"

"He... he didn't have to throw away his life for mine," Amalthia said as she found that she could no longer hold back the tears.

The medics soon arrived as they bound Kaleb's wounds and made sure he lost no further blood. Off in the distance, Cynthia could hear some of the other soldiers in the unit commenting as they saw Amalthia weeping over Kaleb.

"Is that thing actually crying? I didn't know charrs had feelings, especially for humans."

Furious with rage, Sergeant Cynthia Waterstone confronted the two heckling soldiers. "That 'thing' has a name. Her name is Amalthia and she was responsible for saving our lives. Kaleb risked his own to save hers, as any good soldier would have done. Can the same be said for either of you??"

She was only greeted with silence.

"I didn't think so! Get back to your posts and be thankful I don't assign you two to cannon fodder duty."

Brad walked over to Cynthia to give her some more promising news. "The doc said the wounds aren't as bad as they appear. He's got a partially collapsed lung, hence the blood in the mouth and nose, but they said that's easily fixable thanks to some of the Asuran alchemy remedies."

"That is good news. Brad - I'll take Amalthia back into town. You may come with me if you'd like."

Her friend and lover nodded then smiled as he gave her a reassuring hug.

"I'd like that very much."

Amalthia spent her time grooming her body in an attempt to clean off as much of the blood as possible. Even though her fur was clean, for the most part, her gear still was a bloody mess. At this point, she was too tired to even care about what happened with it so long as she wasn't constantly reminded of the horrors that had just transpired.

"Are you ready to go back?" Cynthia approached as she placed a hand on the charr's left shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"I am leaving my armor. Do with it as you wish. But otherwise I'm ready whenever you are."

As they headed back to town, only this time under the protection of a heavier escort, Cynthia turned to Amalthia and asked, "I hope your father will forgive us for what happened. Try not to blame yourself for what happened to Kaleb."

Amalthia drew in a deep breath then exhaled. "I am to blame, partly. But I also blame the inferior technology your people possess. I blame the centuries of senseless bloodshed our people had wrought upon each other over issues that could have been worked out through logic. But most of all I blame the one thing that I wish to say but cannot..."

Twilight was approaching by the time they arrived at Amalthia's home. Without further words they dropped her off then waited until she had made her way to her upstairs abode.

Brad looked over and commented. "What a world we live in to see the day when a human would be willing risk his life for a charr."

"Did you see the look on her face, Brad?"

"Of course I did. I've never seen one of them up close. Well, alive that is. I finally figured out what differentiates the males from the females. It's the size of their teeth. Y'ever notice that?"

"You men are as dense as ever!" She shook her head as she prodded the dolyak forward.

"Yeah. So what is it that I'm missing?"

Without saying a word, she turned to Brad and smiled.

She’s in love with him, you idiot!

[cryptid-bloodhound]

Legends Crime AU

After some great suggestions from: @daughterofthewinedude, @sunflower-key, @ajays-lullaby, and @unsightedjoker​ I decided to expand upon the Crime AU and fill in the blanks thanks to them! If there are more suggestions, let me know! I’m always open to them (:

 So, again thank you for the suggestions, they’re a huuuge help!

Basic Roles

under the cut bcus I rambled again, oops. If yall want to know more, just hmu! I might make individual character ‘profiles’ if there’s interest. Also, if anyone wants to use this for their own crime setting/au then feel free! (i’d totally love to be tagged in stuff bcus im a hoe for crime aus)

Bloodhound - Unknown Assassin -  They're independent and usually can’t be hired as they seem to be working down some sort of list. They aren’t in it for the money, clearly. However, if you plead your case and it’s a good one (in their eyes) the person you’re targeting might just disappear one day. Occasionally they’ll play the silent, scary backup if one of their associates/friends needs it. Nobody knows who they are, where they came from, how to contact them, or what the hell is up with them. It’s been noted that whenever they stop by a city, notoriously nasty criminals happen to go missing. All that’s known about them is that nobody escapes Bloodhound once they start their hunt.

Lifeline - Ex-Mob Princess/Mob Doc - Ajay Che would have been considered a Mob Princess if she had stayed within her Family Ranks. Her parents made very little effort to hide the truth of their profits from her. Disgusted, she left as soon as she could and swore to never join the life. Instead, she became a doctor in an effort to help people and make up for what her family has done. However, her childhood friend Octavio drug her back into the life unintentionally. He’d get hurt and show up at her doorstep again and again. Soon enough, other mobsters and criminals started arriving, earning her the unspoken title of Mob Doc. Now it’s not uncommon to find random Family members just lounging around her place. She decided to just say ‘to hell with it’ and try to act as some sort of Moral Compass for the crew.

Octane - Ex-Mob Prince/Demolitionist/Arsonist - His family and Ajay’s are closely intertwined. They grew up together thanks to the meetings between his parents and hers. However, unlike Ajay, he didn’t feel a moral repulsion at what their families were doing. If anything, he was bored. They weren’t extreme enough. It was almost all Blue Collar crimes, nothing explosive or violent. So, in typical Octavio fashion, he jumped ship and looked for something faster, flashier, more dangerous. It landed him in the ranks of his current Family as their Demolitions and Arson guy. He managed to drag Ajay back into their lifestyle after blowing off his own legs when he blew up the building of someone who pissed him off. He may not be the smartest or most level-headed member, but there’s no one more willing to jump into a fight or play with explosives than him.

Mirage - Jack of Trades - runs the ‘Cosa Nostra’-esque bar called the Paradise Lounge. It’s a neutral meeting grounds for the varying Families and it is an unwritten rule that nobody is allowed to fight in its premise. It’s the only ‘safe spot’ in the city. He has several different jobs for the Family. Aside from running the bar and helping to launder money, he is a document forger, a con artist, tech expert and is capable of talking people out of trouble one way or another. Basically, if someone needs to ‘disappear’ or get out of trouble, they come to ‘Mirage’. 

Bangalore - Ground Enforcer/Collector -  An ex-spec ops soldier who left the service after the mysterious ‘disappearance’ of her brother when he was on leave. She is certain it was a rival gang who did something to him. So, she’s started a crusade to find out what happened to him and avenge him one way or another. She joined the Family after crossing paths with them on more than one occasion. After witnessing her impressive skills, they offered her whatever resources she needed to finish her quest in exchange for her services leading and training their ‘troops’. She also isn’t shy on collecting the debts owed to the family.

Gibraltar - Allied Boss - Makoa Gibraltar isn’t your typical Crime Lord. For starters, he doesn’t actively harm innocent people. If anything, he is closer to a vigilante than an evil mobster. He started his biker gang after witnessing one too many hate crimes and seeing too many horrible people walk free from a corrupt system. He protects victims from their attackers during tenuous things like court trials and breaks up hate crimes he sees in progress. He’s become affectionately noted throughout the city by its citizens and even the police like to turn a blind eye when they can when he’s seen protecting someone (or beating the ever-loving shit out of some asshole). He has a shaky alliance with The Family. At the moment, they haven’t done anything notably horrible and have helped fund his growing group. They even slip him some info every now and again about places and people who might need a ‘meeting’ with Gibraltar.

Crypto - Double Agent Hacker - Tae Joon Park is technically ‘dead’. After being framed by The Family for the murder of his adopted sister Mila, he decided it was best to stick with the idea of being dead and created a new identity for himself. Filled with a searing need for revenge, he’s entered into the Family under the guise of being their expert Hacker and pro at Espionage. There’s no code he can’t crack and no information he can’t find. He’s capable of bringing empires down from behind his keyboard and screen. That’s exactly what he plans on doing to The Family. Only, he’s starting to notice a very strange pattern. Not everyone in the Family seems to be aware of the shady business going on. Some appear to be victims themselves that are being played. Now, he also has to decide who is guilty and who’s just like him - a pawn.

Caustic - Wild Card Killer - Considered an Associate as he refuses to formally join The Family as a Made Man. Alexander Nox is also technically ‘dead’. After a run-in with the law (and a subsequent escape from prison), he had the local forger Mirage falsify evidence of his death and craft him a new identity. He functions as an interrogator and a cleaner when he feels the fancy. He’s made it very clear that he is, under no circumstance, beholden to what the Boss wants. He helps because the Boss offers him a practically endless supply of test subjects in exchange for extracting information from the people and disposing of the bodies. He also mentors Wattson in the ways of proper disposal. What his end goals are, nobody really knows and nobody wants to ask. 

Wraith - Shadow Broker/Assassin - Renee Blasey is something of an enigma. Few people know her name beyond ‘Wraith’ and fewer still know what she looks like. She hides in the shadows, gathering information and eliminating targets with precision. There’s a rumor that she’s the one who brought the newcomer Crypto into the fold and that they’ve worked together in the past. Perhaps he was the one who freed her from a rival gang’s clutches. Due to her apparent connections all over the place and an almost unending supply of information, she was held captive and tortured for information. After her violent and bloody escape, she stumbled across the Family and they welcomed the notable information broker with open arms. How she gets the information she does, no one knows. She is always elusive about it. ‘A little birdy told me.’ ‘The voices knew’.  

Pathfinder - Transport Expert - A ‘defective’ MRVN unit because he was too free-thinking and asked too many questions, namely: ‘what happened to my creator?’ He was going to be decommissioned and shut down permanently when a group of strangers broke into the facility and ransacked the place. After they saved him from being decommissioned, he followed them around like a puppy and unintentionally joined the Family. He functions somewhere between ‘getaway/transport expert’ and ‘team mascot’. It’s thought that he might have witnessed some damning things and that’s why he was going to be decommissioned. In the process, his memories were corrupted so it’s almost impossible to truly tell. They’ve begun proper work on restoring his memories now that the technical geniuses Wattson and Crypto have joined up alongside Mirage.

Wattson - Security/Business Front/Cleaner- Daughter of an Associate. She didn’t know her dad worked with the mob until she was older. After the initial surprise, she joined in on the business, going so far as to becoming Made. She runs the security service front known as ‘Apex Protection’ that also doubles as their money laundering business. Nobody gets past her defenses to get to Family. (It helps that her dad was rather close with the notoriously effective cleaner Caustic. She’s picked up a few tips from him and now helps with the cleaning when needed)

[gold3nberry]

Everything Is Fine

Well, hello, everybody! I’m alive, and I apologize for the hiatus. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. After four years of writing about my adored Demetra and our dashing Commander, life happened. I missed this fandom a great deal, but I needed time to recover (spiritually, let’s stay), rest a bit, and focus on my career. I hope you’re all doing great, and if you want to chat, you know where to find me, now that I’m around again! Hugs!

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Demetra Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford NSFW-ish (nothing too explicit).

Ao3 here

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Demetra sauntered, her shoes dangling lazily in her hand. The grass kissed by the moonlight was pleasantly cold under her bare, sore feet, and the hem of her silk dress rustled gently against the lawn. A smirk escaped her lips at the thought that Vivienne was likely going to kill her. The Inquisitor ruining her dress, walking around barefoot and with her hair half - down wasn’t exactly the picture the mage wanted others to perceive. Demetra sighed heavily. She had been so offended when she first heard Orlesians snicker about the Free Marches nobility. Provincial. Uncouth. Uninteresting. She had been bothered because those words had been repeated enough during every Trevelyan’s reunion. At the time, they were directed to her parents and all their children until Demetra’s mother had had enough and decided to simply skip the unpleasantness entirely. After that, they received the blame because they were shaming Trevelyans in front of all the Marches not sitting at their places during Satinalia’s banquets or weddings or birthdays. As if the Trevelyans really mattered outside Ostwick. As if Ostwick really mattered outside the Free Marches. And she, Demetra Sòphie Trevelyan, the fat and chatty youngest one, was the most worthless of all of them. Her sister was famous for her diplomacy, beauty, and grace. Her two brothers were brave, beautiful, and with a career on their own - at least until Gavin married an elven woman - but Demetra only had her brain. For the main branch of her family, it wasn’t that much to be proud of. Her parents told her to ignore them, but it wasn’t always easy. Now, as the Inquisitor, the Orlesians were doing more or less the same. In their eyes, the Inquisitor Trevelyan lacked too much to be respected. Yet, they still needed her. They knew that she knew they knew, and they despised her behind smiles and masks even more for that. Demetra shook her head. She came to the beautiful garden to get rid of unpleasant thoughts, not to pile up them. With the Maker’s help, tomorrow at sunrise the Inquisition delegation would leave the chateaux and return to Skyhold. 

Maker, she was tired. The exhaustion of chasing Red Templars or killing ferocious giants was nothing compared to the waltz she was forced to dance in Orlais. If she missed her shot, wars could start, and alliances get broken in a blink. Giants at least didn’t force her to smile until her mouth felt blocked. After another evening spent walking and dancing on heels that had no right to be that nice and that painful at the same time, Demetra was eager to put them in her wardrobe for a while. Her shoes were like this last mission: lovely to see, but horribly painful to have around for an extended amount of time. The garden around her was silent, and the estate on the background asleep. The marquess who hosted the Inquisition’s party in her chateaux had made sure they didn’t have a moment of quiet in all the weekend. A courtesy that, the noblewoman had made it pretty clear, she wanted to have repaid with the Inquisitor’s support in the imperial court. If the woman hadn’t signed a contract with the Inquisition providing soldiers, supplies, and a kind word with the rest of Orlesians noble houses, Demetra would have been pleased to tell the Marquess were she could put her demand of support for her little social climbing. Instead, Demetra had spent four days strolling around with the Marquess and her equally vain friends, letting Varric enchanting them with the tales of their adventures, and smiling and nodding until she had felt her head was going to fall in one of the fountains. She yawned quietly, too tired even for sleeping. She walked, unaware that she was a lovely vision, a sort of romantic spirit gracing the night with her presence, or so Varric would have probably told her if he wasn’t drunk asleep in his luxurious suite. 

Nobles were the ones who disconcerted her the most. Despite being herself a noble, her family was so atypical that she wasn’t prepared to challenge a world as nuanced and complicated like the Orlesian ones. Beyond sickening sweet smiles and glares as sharp as knives, they laid at her feet requests for help, for blessings, for an alliance against bandits or other people who had the disgrace to not being in their circle of so-called friendship. None of them seemed willing to consider that Corypheus was gathering his troops, sneaking around in the darkness, ready to bring ruin and desperation upon them all. She suspected that partially this was because the thought of the end of the world glooming over them was too terrifying to deal with. Much better turning the head in the other side, pretending that everything was fine, that Red Templars weren’t ransacking villages or Venatori summoning demons. With all the faith they proclaimed in the Maker and Andraste, they didn’t have that much hope in the Prophetess’ chosen one. They only saw a fat woman, jumped out from nowhere, and she could have understood that. But then they decided that their troubles were more important than anything else, that their pretense was more important than the reality of a world on the brink of extinction, and Demetra couldn’t forgive that.  The Inquisitor walked a bit longer until she arrived at the little lake - a little bigger than a glorified swimming pool -  that the Marquess has shown off to her that very afternoon. Demetra wanted to put her feet in the cold water, but she didn’t expect to find someone else there. ”Demetra!” Cullen called, surprised, but not displeased, it seemed. He chuckled, rubbing his neck “I would have invited you to join me if I had known you didn’t lock yourself somewhere with Leliana and Josephine discussing this visit.” ”Don’t you think I would ask my military advisor to join us?” she replied quietly, not wanting to break the silence around them. He shrugged, smiling gently “I have no purpose here, beyond making sure you’re safe and protected. This is Leliana and Josephine’s territory, after all. Leave me the battlefield. I’m fine with that.” They didn’t spend that much time together, in the past two days, both busy with their tasks, and with Cullen spending a lot of time patrolling around. In her generosity, Josephine had maneuvered to have Demetra and Cullen placed in two close bedrooms, insisting that he was her bodyguard. However, Demetra knew that her Ambassador was planning to use the inevitable gossip to the Inquisition’s advantage. Leliana hadn’t disagreed. It was the worst kept secret in Thedas anyway, she had shrugged, ignoring Cullen’s embarrassment during their last meeting in Skyhold.  ”But leave the furniture alone,” the Spymaster had commanded with a sly smirk. Cullen swam near her, walking slowly when he found the point where he could touch the sand under the water. Despite having to be with him for quite a while, Demetra was always surprised by the intensity of her attraction towards him. She loved the way he laughed - really laughed - when he was amused, the wrinkle between his eyes, the way he frowned when thought that something was silly. She adored the way he hugged her, intense and unrelenting, how much he trusted her, the glint of pride in his eyes after her triumphant return from a mission. They got along together well, so well that sometimes she was scared to lose it, either due to lyrium, war, or he changing his mind. She fought valiantly towards these thoughts, knowing that they both wanted to be together and that the love they found was something worthy of fighting for, but sometimes she didn’t believe she had been so lucky to find him. When she had finally shared these thoughts with him, her surprise had been enormous hearing his admission that he thought he was the lucky one in their relationship.  Cullens’ voice was gentle as always “What are you thinking?” “That my feet are sore and that I love you very much.” He blushed delighted. It was enchanting, really. Since their first time, they had been intimate uncountable times - and in many, many different locations than his or her bed. Yet, he, the man who once took his Inquisitor against a wall and that woke her up with his mouth between her thighs more than once, still blushed every time she voiced her feelings.  “Come here, love,” he murmured, his honeyed eyes soft and his words darkly alluring. Any other time, she would protest that she wasn’t going to undress where anyone could surprise her, but this time was different. She wanted to feel him, skin against skin, having his lips pressed on the top of her head, and his arms sheltering her from the outer world for a while. Demetra needed him, and Cullen knew it. And he was waiting for her. He would always have. The thought alone made her heart pump faster and full of joy. She let her shoes fell on the grass with a gentle thud, and quietly blessed the simple corset of her ballgown. Letting the precious embroidered silk falling in the grass, she shredded her undergarments as well. Cullen was staring at her, the water gently skimming around his trim waist. He was looking at her with equal love and desire, and when he motioned her to enter in the water, she didn’t hesitate any longer. She had always thought nobody would appreciate her body outside herself. She was glad the Maker had proved her to be wrong.  “You’re beautiful,” Cullen murmured, holding her against his chest. Demetra chuckled. She hardly thought she was beautiful. Pretty, maybe. Tonight, she was wearing heavy makeup and all the beauty that money could buy thanks to expensive clothes and jewels in her hairstyle, but she wasn’t going to fool herself. Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry I’m not better with words.” She winced, looking at him, wanting to tell him that it wasn’t his fault if Orlais had left her overtired and sad. It was a place that always made her feel as if she was the youngest lady Trevelyan, back at Ostwick. All the love of her parents and siblings hadn’t been able to shelter her from disapproval and mockery. Ostwick had been hard, but in Orlais, it was even worse because she had felt alone. However, Demetra was aware that it was just her tired mind suggesting those considerations. She wasn’t alone for real. Tiptoeing, Demetra pressed her lips against his “I believe your sincerity, Cullen. I’m just… I don’t know? Overwhelmed?” “Orlais,” he nodded, kissing her nose, her cheeks, and her lips, making her laugh. He took his time, lingering against her skin, pressing and curling over her. Demetra sighed, relaxing in his embrace. It was a lovely moment. The water murmuring around them, the magnificent starred sky, the warmth of Cullen’s body. She could endure Orlais’ unpleasantness if it led to moments like this. They swam for a while, giggling like children when he playfully splashed her, and she returned him the favor.  The water was pleasantly cold, but when Cullen realized that Demetra was shivering, he wrapped her in his arms. Weightless and content, she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I would like to give you a real holiday,” he murmured, rocking gently. She chuckled, pressing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart was beating, and an angry scar marked his skin “Save the intention for after I defeat Corypheus.” He nodded. She was grateful he didn’t voice his terror at the idea of her facing that monster again, but she noted how he held her tighter than a moment before. “Where would you bring me?” she asked, pushing away a wet curl from his forehead. Cullen’s answer was quick, “The South Reach if you don’t have other suggestions.” She looked at him, surprised, and he smiled, hesitant “I know it’s not a popular place, but I thought… after everything is over, if you want, that’s it, I would like to present you to my siblings. If they’re willing to speak to me, I mean.” “According to the letters Mia sends you, they’re more than willing.” “I haven’t been fair towards them,” he warned her, stiffening slightly under her touch, “I thought the money I sent while in Kirkwall was enough. That cutting out everything that could remind me… the Circle, and all that was before was the only way to survive.” “Look at me, Cullen.” He was ashamed by himself, and his torment was evident.  “Cullen, I would be glad to come with you and visit your family. It would be an honor, actually. You own them an explanation, that’s true, but I think they got an idea about what happened. Maybe not the full extent, but I’m pretty sure they know, and they understand, love.” He was still unsure, still frightened facing the idea of having failed his own family. Demetra loved his sense of duty, but hate it when it blinded him towards the possibility that mistakes could be forgiven, if not repaired. He was harsh towards himself, harsher than anyone Demetra had ever known.  “Come,” she said, pulling him gently “let’s go to bed. It’s late, and tomorrow I want us all to leave as soon as possible.” They dressed slowly, Cullen peppering her skin with a kiss here and there. She adored the intimacy of having him buttoning her dress and murmuring compliments. “You’re going to sleep with me tonight,” she declared quietly, while they walked hand in hand towards the house. He smiled, “I missed you.” She kissed his jaw and let him wrap her shoulders with his arm, echoing the sentiment. Dechoing the sentiment. During a mission, they didn’t usually have a lot of time to be together. It wasn’t only about sex. They both missed sharing the goodnight kiss and greeting each other in the morning. Or having a moment to joke about something funny happened that day. Or reading before sleeping, her nested against him, his hands absently playing with her long braid. When Cullen slipped with her under the blankets, she hugged him from behind, kissing his nape. Cullen grabbed her hands and murmured a tired “Goodnight,” adhering against her body with a satisfied sigh. For once, he fell asleep sooner than her. Demetra stayed awake, listening to his regular breath. A moment before falling asleep, she smiled and snuggled closer to him. Everything was fine.

—- As always, let me know what you think of this tiny thing!

[thebiasrekkers]

Edge of Forever [BTS Space!AU]

BTS Space!AU [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ☆ ❂ ☾✘ ] “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” The stage is set and the stars are the guide for the lost souls that have congregated to one point. A fixed constant in the universe for others to discover and fulfill their wishes but will it come to ruin for others?

Pairings: BTS X OC (s) Genre: BTS Space!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language

AO3

Chapter 6- New Divide

"I remember black skies, the lightning all around me. I remember each flash as time began to blur."

“Look, if I get one more goddamn message about either the Federation or the Pirates--I’m going to shoot you my own damn self.”

Yoongi growled at the screen while Jimin laughed like it was an everyday occurrence. Jin was overseeing the loading of his ship while Jungkook and Vairuit were making that the load was correct. They had gotten all the parts that they could ever need, plus some for the new ship that Nyala was taking them all to. They all had protested that Yoongi and Jimin shouldn’t go but they wouldn’t hear any of it and even the beautiful Jimin said that they would need someone with his skills once they got there. And Yoongi didn’t go anywhere major without him, so it was a deal for the both of them. Even Jin had complained that there wasn’t enough room for all of them but he was overpowered by the quiet man.

Now it was reaching Zero Hour for them and they had all kinds of people asking for the others, hoping to either collect the bounties on each of them or to get them off the station before real trouble happened upon them. Still, keeping the attention on them instead of the ship was smarter since they were finishing up. Getting out of there, however, would be the main problem as the entire area was flooding with both sides hoping to get a piece of the prize.

Yoongi had thought of that, a grin forming on his face as he placed everyone where he wanted them. It helped that he had such a network of connections and such everywhere he went, which meant that there were some that were fulfilling favors for him. They would be the decoys while they all got away, a simple plan that nobody would expect. After all, one expected the lot of them to blast their way out but any damage to the station would put others at risk. Another reason why both sides didn’t just fire upon it because it was integral to operations for both of them. Still, they laid in wait for them to come out of hiding because they couldn’t just sit there forever--and they were right.

The last of the cargo was secured in place when Jin took to the comms, letting them know that the ship was ready to go. The Broker then broke his silence to let the others know that they were proceeding with his plan, to cause a little chaos inside the station. Soon after, reports started to file in as Jimin caught them of the Outlaw’s last stand inside the station. It was the signal that the troops from the Federation would flood in and then the Pirates because they just couldn’t let them catch their prize. All the while, the group would take the safety junctions through the core of the station to the docks where the ship was waiting on them. It wasn’t as quick as going the direct route but it would see them there with as little conflict as possible.

Upon reaching the ship, Jin started on a tirade about how nobody cared for him and that all he was good for was to get them out of trouble. Everyone took places with Jimin taking Nyala’s place at the station she was previously at. He eased her away from it, a small smile on his face as she stepped aside--unsure about what to do in that situation.

The takeoff procedure was easy enough for them but it was getting through the ships. The space station wasn’t too far from an asteroid field, keeping the defenses of the station busy at all times with the number of stray asteroids that would head that way. Jin had been eyeballing a trajectory since things started to be loaded on the ship. He only had a few options but the field would be the best plan if they were to escape and get to subspace Drive. He just didn’t tell anyone about his plan of attack because he could only hear the opposition that would occur and he didn’t need to be distracted while getting them out of there. Once the ship made its way towards the asteroid field, that was when the concerned voices started to sound off. Even Jimin voiced his opinion about the action but Jin turned around in his seat and eyeballed them all.

“Look, this is our best chance of getting the fuck out of here so if anyone’s got anything else to say about my piloting skills--then they are welcome to take over. It’s either the field or the Armada.”

He waited for a second as silence filled the area before turning back around, resuming what he was doing before the protests broke out. He called out for Jimin to give him assistance, the other man hanging onto every word. The both of them moved at unnatural speeds as the ship sped towards the asteroid field, the words barely leaving Jin’s lips as Jimin was already punching it in. Unfortunately, there were ships that had caught onto to their plan and boldly followed them into the field. Yoongi yelled at Jin to slow down while Jungkook and Vairuit were busy blasting the rocks away from the ship. Nyala decided to help as she started to chant again, the energy gathering all around her before she released it. It sunk into the ship and Jimin reported that shields were actually gaining power because of it.

Jin weaved in and around the asteroids, dodging like he was made of something liquid. There were a few scrapes, a few bumps that just couldn’t be helped but he made it past the field and onto the other side with a victorious yell. The ship sailed right on through and started to prep for the jump to subspace, mere seconds after it was all clear. They wasted no time in getting out of there, leaving the battered ships behind them.

Once at subspace, they all breathed a sigh of relief--relaxing a bit as they took in their new freedom. Jin turned around in his seat and blew Jimin a kiss, who laughed and shook his head. Vairuit jumped up and suddenly ran to the back, where some of the cargo was stashed and brought back some glasses as well as a bottle of liquor. She grinned at everyone, knowing that she had placed it there when Jin wasn’t looking. They couldn’t really deny her the drink as the entire ordeal had been grating on their nerves.

So a drink they had.

It would be at least three days and two jumps to get to where they needed to go, another asteroid field that held an abandoned station. It was once a spaceport--until the planet nearby was destroyed. Some said that the Pirates had done the deed while others said that something had crashed into it, causing it to break up into pieces. The inhabitants had long fled the system, integrated with other parts of society in the System but the wreckage was still there. Still able to be used if one had the guts to do so and they did. The field wasn’t as dense as the one that they had gone through but it still posed some dangers.

Later on, Nyala had wandered into the cargo hold to inspect the crate that she had brought along. Her device beeped at her, varying symbols popping up as she ran tests to make sure that the cryosleep still held her in there. She didn’t notice that there had been someone behind her as she did so, more focused on her task at hand. Jimin was curious to see what it was that Yoongi had been talking about with Jungkook and Vairuit didn’t know too much about it either. Jin was more concerned about everything else that he didn’t want to bother him. So he went straight to the source.

“Miss Nyala, may I have a moment?”

Nyala almost jumped, never hearing or sensing him come up. She had been on edge about him since the moment she laid eyes on him, unsure of what it was that made her that way. Was it the fact that he just looked too nice, too innocent for his line of work or the company he keeps? Or was it something underneath that ran along the currents of their everyday lives that she was picking up on? She nodded, giving him more room in the cargo hold as she continued on with what she was doing. He peered at the device before looking up at her then to the crate, his words caught on the tip of his tongue as he chose his words carefully--like he always did.

“This crate contains the Bio-Android, yes?” A nod from Nyala signaled him to continue, “Do you think that the Pirates really will abuse her when they take her for their means?”

Nyala paused, hoping that would never happen but there was one thing that she was certain of. And that was the belief that the Armada held such strong beliefs that they would go through great lengths to achieve what they were looking for.

“Yes. And they will stop at nothing to get her and the ship we’re headed to. I understand if this is all too much.” She started to punch some buttons on the device when his hand was suddenly on her arm. His hand was gentle yet still had a firm grip there, for support. She put the device down and looked at him thoughtfully, eyes still red like embers under a dying fire.

“I don’t want that to happen to her. I am… familiar with her struggle and I care not to have the same thing that happened to me--happen to her. If Yoongi will not stay and help, then I will break myself off to help all of you along. No person should be a slave or put through something they wish to not happen.”

His soft words became bitter at the end, a glimpse of his true self breaking through the mask that he always carried. Nyala saw the paths of this man, in that moment and took a moment to realize something that she had neglected to analyze herself. The paths that they were all to tread, how they were all being gathered there. There must have been something more about their meetings than met the eye. She smiled at him, one hand reaching up to pat his cheek before announcing that she was fine. There was no damage and everyone was truly safe.

For the moment.

[nanowrimo2k18blog]

Chapter 2: Night Fishing

I helped my mom carry the crock-pot of stew across the sandy terrain, focusing intently on not spilling it and burning myself. Around me, people were talking and laughing, already sipping wine and beer. Tiki torches did little to banish the night, but a short distance away, teens were building a gigantic bonfire. The moon was only a sliver as it worked its way to becoming full. Younger kids were making noises of joy as they flashed their sparklers. Food was lined up on long, white foldout tables, and the mayor nodded to me in both hello and appreciation as I sat the heavy container down.

The conch shell swung as I bent over, and even after wearing it for such a short time (an hour), I had gotten used to its weight. It was comforting; it felt like I had always had it.

I escaped the adults to join my friends by the fire, on the outskirts of the celebration.

Carly had been my friend since third grade. We connected over drawing and art, and had been inseparable since. Her wild, dark, curly hair had gotten her the nickname Curly. Nobody minded.

Austin was the daredevil of our group. His bright red hair was always sticking up in the back, and he constantly wanted to do something extreme. He and Curly had been dating for about a week and were locked to the hip. By this point, it was strange to not see them together with their tongues down each other's throats.

Ethan was the newest addition to our little group. He was the mayor's oldest son; quiet, calm, smart and a little gloomy, he balanced out Curly's cheerfulness and Austin's excitement.

I sat down on the log, an appropriate distance away from Ethan. He handed me a Coke, and I cracked it open. The cold, acidic bubbles were a comforting taste. Even though we were all old enough to drink, I preferred to be sober.

"That's pretty." He gestured to the shell hanging from my neck.

My fingers came up to rub the shell absentmindedly. "Thanks."

The crackling and flickering of the flames were hypnotizing; it was making me sleepy. I took another sip to distract myself.

Ethan stretched out. "Were people still arriving?"

"Yeah, the food wasn't all here yet. We might be able to get some now, though." I looked over to where the majority of the town was.

"Yo. Come up for air and get some food." Ethan threw his crumpled beer can at Austin.

The redhead glared at him, but Curly was already on her feet and bouncing excitedly in the sand.

"Yes! I'm starving!"

The flames caught and reflected the light from the fire in the glassy beads woven in her hair. She was cute as she teasingly kicked up sand.

The food was tasty; I was pretty sure I ate too much.

"We all should go skinny dipping." Austin grinned mischievously, tossing his plate into the fire.

"Far from the adults. Just us four."

"Absolutely not." I said flatly.

It was the worst idea I had ever heard him utter: four (barely) adults, naked, alone, our family not knowing we were in the sea at night when all the monsters were out.

Yup. Definitely a place I wanted to be.

"Aw, c'mon Ames!" He whined.

"I'm not getting naked." Ethan shook his head. "The ocean's freezing right now."

"Okay fine, then keep your clothes on. I'm going swimming. Curly?"

She looked at me guiltily. "Only if Ames is going."

They looked at me with a mixture of pleading, hope and expectation. "America?"

Feeling pressured and guilty, I gave in. "Okay. But I'm not going in."

Austin knew he wasn't going to win this battle. The whole town knew I never swam in the ocean. "Okay fine."

I followed after them, trooping in the soft, warm sand. I caught my Mam's gaze, and waved to her. She waved back, then went back to laughing with the butcher's wife.

At least someone would know we left the party.

The docks were dark, lonely and cold, far from the rest of civilization. The spray from the salty water sent shivers down my spine as I watched my friends frolic and squeal in the inky depths. I gathered up the tossed clothing and shoes, placing them neatly in a row. I laid down on my back and looked at the stars; their shouts of laughter seemed to fade, and I think I started to fall asleep.

"Whoa! Guys, did you see that??" Austin cried, shaking the water from his eyes.

"See what?" Curly asked, still giggling.

"I swear I saw a mermaid."

Ethan snorted. "Don't be stupid. Mermaids don't exist. I didn't see anything."

"Wha-but-you really didn't see it?" Austin seemed dismayed.

"No. Where was it?" Curly asked.

"Under the docks. Right under where Ames is sitting." Austin pointed.

I sat up. I hadn't seen anything, too busy looking at the stars and trying to stay warm and awake. "It didn't touch me, and I didn't see it, so I don't know about that. What did it look like?"

"I didn't get a good glimpse, it was gone before I could see it. It had weird eyes, though, and I think it was watching us."

"Really?" Curly was hanging onto his every word.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Completely white like two full moons plastered to it's face." Austin pressed his cupped hands to his face like goggles. "It totally gawped at you."

Curly laughed and splashed him. "No way!"

"Yes way! It was creepy!" Austin splashed her back.

Ethan was characteristically silent, but he seemed anxious, frequently glancing back at myself and the docks.

"Let us know if you see something." He called.

I gave him a thumbs up as I pulled on his jacket, too cold to not steal clothing. It smelled great, like something sharp and spicy and cozy. I couldn't place exactly what it was, but I knew if I had the choice, I wanted to keep the jacket always and forever.

Curly suddenly screamed and started to flail. "Something grabbed me!! Something grabbed my feet!! Oh my god something touched me!!!!"

Something moved just under the surface of water, pale and fast. I jolted to my feet, screaming at her. "Get out of the water!"

Ethan was already scrambling for the docks as Austin half carried, half dragged his hysterical girlfriend. Ethan hauled her up, and I fumbled with my phone before shining my flashlight on her ankles. Austin half rolled onto the docks, tired from carrying Curly.

"You're not injured." I said, drying her feet with my shirt. "It didn't scratch you."

She was in tears. "It grabbed me and-and- I thought it was gonna pull me under!! I kicked it in the face!!"

Something splashed out in the water. We all looked at each other, icy horror sliding down our spines as we realized she wasn't making any of this up.

We booked it for the shore.

[greyias]

FIC: By the Guidance of Stars - Chapter 4

Title: By the Guidance of Stars Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Humor Synopsis: The Coalition tries to heal in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin 4, but not every wound is physical. A series of missing scenes set during the end of Shadow of Revan. Warnings: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Crossposted to AO3

As morning wore on, the drizzle eased into a light mist and the camp began to rouse. The mugs of caf had long since been drained and Theron had reluctantly forced himself to begin tackling the mountain of paperwork waiting for him. That afternoon’s unofficial debrief loomed in the back of his mind, and in an effort to distract himself, he’d thrown himself into filling in as many details of the entire Revanite debacle on his official report, starting all the way back to the initial mission on Korriban.

Well. Most of the details. There were some interpersonal things that would not be making their way into an official report. He was only a kiss-and-tell kind of guy when it was part of the official mission log. And this confusing thing he had with a certain Jedi Master was nobody’s business but their own.

Of course, focusing on his paperwork would have been much easier if he didn’t have to keep trying to stop one Doctor Archiban Kimble from second-guessing the excellent care of sneaky medical droids.

“Can’t you just read whatever the droid wrote and let it go?” Theron grumbled. “I have to finish this report.”

“And I have to make sure that all of my hard work on Rishi wasn’t undone last night.”

“It wasn’t.” Theron glowered at him and then pointedly returned his attention to the datapad. “Now go away.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work this time.”

“What’s not? Speaking Basic?”

“Your overworked slicer schtick. No datapads during medical examinations. Doctor’s orders.”

“Didn’t stop you last time.”

“Yes, well, I made an exception then because my favorite Jedi was about to be blown to smithereens by your grandpa’s cult.”

“It’s a few more generations than just grandfather.”

“Eh, details.” The datapad was deftly plucked from the spy’s hands and stowed inside of of one of the medic’s inner pockets. “You get this back after we’re done.”

“You’ve got nerves of steel, Doc,” Theron warned. “I’ve shot people for less.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” The medic grinned. “I figure I’m safe. A certain Jedi is very fond of me and my untimely death would make her very sad.”

“And what makes you think that would affect my aim?”

The medic arched one dark brow, as if it was obvious. “You seemed pretty concerned earlier from what I saw. Holding hands and everything.”

Theron wasn’t able to suppress the curse that slipped out. It wasn’t exactly a private area they’d been in, but he had hoped everyone had been too busy with their celebrations to notice that unplanned moment. Of course, unplanned moments seemed to be the norm with her rather than the exception.

Not that he had the greatest track record with sticking to a plan — he tended to fly by the seat of his pants at the best of times. But even if he’d wanted to, he never could have accounted for that ridiculous pirate costume she had picked up from a street vendor for her undercover persona. Nor for the way she got drunk during one of Jakarro’s cantina outings—forcing Theron to figure out how to transport a hopelessly inebriated Jedi back to their hideout without either of them getting shivved in a back alleyway. Or the way her grip on him had lingered before she’d left for that last battle on Rishi, practically shouting the order for Doc to stay behind and take care of him.

And actually if Theron thought about it longer, the one consistent factor in all of that had been the medic currently pulling out his scanner so he could begin to examine the chest of his very reluctant patient. As Doc had been the one to help her pick out that stupid outfit, had left an entire pitcher of fruity alcoholic drinks on the table after leaving their team gathering in a snit, and had been just as annoying at insisting on making sure Theron didn’t have any life-threatening internal injuries just like he was now.

The medic let out a quiet chuckle, apparently mistaking the reasoning for the glare pointed in his direction.

“Don’t worry, I made a lot of loud and rousing toasts over in my area of camp. Your aloof reputation is safe amongst the larger crowd.”

“I get the impression that wasn’t for my benefit,” Theron grumbled.

“No, it wasn’t.” Doc narrowed an eyebrow at the tiny screen in front of him, and started to do some more detailed scans over the previously injured area, as if he needed to double-check something. “But if getting a camp of Imperial and Republic troops inebriated in the early hours of the morning is what it takes to get that woman a small moment of peace, I’ll make that sacrifice for the greater good.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“It’s a heavy burden sometimes, being such a hero.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Eh, sober enough to look you over.”

“I think I feel safer with the droid.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a horrible patient?”

“Probably about as often as you’ve gotten complaints about your bedside manner.”

“You be quiet and let me finish.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll call your mother over here.” Doc grinned.

“I swear I’m changing my last name when I get back to Republic space,” Theron muttered darkly.

“I’ll still know.”

“Two can play at that game, Archiban.”

Doc shot him a dirty look, but returned to fiddling with his scanner. “Look, I know you’ve got your own reasons, but still… thanks for looking out for her.”

Theron indeed had his own reasons, but much to his chagrin, none of them seemed to stem from anything remotely resembling reason. Of course, he hadn’t really ever been accused of being the most logical agent in SIS. However, there was no way he was admitting that aloud. “I get the impression that you and your crew have been through a lot.”

“Some of us more than others,” Doc muttered darkly.

“Yeah.” Theron pursed his lips. “Got that impression too.”

Considering Grey’s reaction earlier, that was putting it mildly. He was regretting not having figured out what had been redacted before they had gotten to this point—and before he’d made a promise to not pry. Of course, that six month gap had nearly put him off selecting her for the Korriban mission completely. If he’d done that, then he wouldn’t currently have to be listening to Doc ramble on. Of course, then he wouldn’t have met her either.

Something inside his chest twisted. It was probably because he’d been an idiot and had drank too much caf this morning instead of having a real breakfast. He probably needed to find something more substantial before the debrief this afternoon. Or maybe he could just choke a ration bar down as he didn’t really have much of an appetite at the moment.

Doc gave him a funny look, almost as if he’d been reading the spy’s inner thoughts. Theron didn’t really want to get a lecture on his poor diet on top of everything else this morning, so he just glared at the ground instead.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask.”

“I might be a spy,” he ground out, “but I can respect boundaries. I’m not going to force her to relive anything just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“While I appreciate the gesture,” Doc said quietly, “I think things are going to come to a head sooner or later, whether or not you ask anything.”

Theron glared at the ground, not sure what to make of the internal war raging inside of his gut. “She’s still got you and the rest of your crew. Should be enough, right?”

The medic let out a sad sigh and shook his head, but didn’t say anything else on the subject. There wasn’t much to say, Theron had already made a promise not to pry, and he wasn’t about to go back on that. Keeping promises wasn’t exactly something most people in his line of work did. Although this wasn’t work. This was… it was…

It was none of his damn business is what it was.

And he knew that. Despite his chosen profession, there were some lessons from his childhood he’d had a hard time shaking off. A lot of adjustments—sacrifices even—had to be made in order to get the mission done, because that served a higher purpose in a way he couldn’t with his natural born talents, or lack thereof. It was often a struggle to be the person that Ngani Zho had raised him to be, and beyond just that, he wanted to be a man of his word. At least with the important people.

And she was... yeah. She was one of them.

It took a lot to get under his skin, but that little Jedi had managed it quite effectively. And despite his best efforts, he was just along for the ride at this point, that much was clear.

“Well,” Doc said, barely managing to keep irritation from bleeding into his tone, “looks like between my wonderful skills as a medic, a little help from the Grand Master, and that barely adequate droid, you’re going to be just fine.”

“I already told you that,” Theron said, his own frustration mounting. “If you had just believed me then we could have avoided this whole awkward conversation.”

“Yeah, well,” Doc said lightly, stowing his medical scanner, “I had to be sure. It would be irresponsible of me if I didn’t ensure that you were in peak physical condition before taking on any… strenuous activity.”

The insinuation on what the medic thought of Theron’s intentions was all too clear, and he couldn’t help but snarl. “That is none of your damn business.”

“I’m just looking out for your welfare,” Doc grinned. “You wouldn’t want to sprain anything. That would definitely kill the mood.”

“I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I assume you know all about using protection—“

“Give me my datapad!”

“And I expect you to behave like a proper gentleman.”

Theron’s hand curled into a fist, and it took all of his effort to keep it down at his side. “Now.”

Doc sighed dramatically, but pulled out the requested device with dramatic flair. “Fine, fine.”

The spy snatched the device and started to move away from the medic with a quickness.

“Oh, and Theron?”

“What?” he tossed over his shoulder, not bothering to hide his frustration and not slowing his hasty retreat in the slightest.

“I meant what I said back on Rishi.” The joviality had faded from Doc’s tone, leaving behind a steel certainty. “I know every way to cleanly break any bone in the body. I would keep that in mind if I were you.”

“You threatening me?”

“Only if you hurt her.”

“You and Scourge should form a club.”

“Not my first choice, but I’ll consider it. If it comes to that.”

Theron beat a quick retreat to the safety of one of the private tents before he could be pulled back into anything resembling conversation with the medic. He had no desire to hear any more advice on his love life. Or hear about the ways in which he would be maimed if things didn’t somehow go according to Doc’s outdated notions of romance. For possibly the first time in his career, Theron couldn’t wait to get lost in the minutiae of the Republic’s endless trail of paperwork.

Next Chapter

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week Day 7: Post War

Summary: The war is over and Laxus is back in Magnolia. But his husband hasn't yet returned and Laxus finds himself feeling more and more nervous. And then, as the afternoon begins, a train arrives.

This is the my seventh admission for Fraxus week 2018, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus as always. You can read it on Archive Of Our Own, FanFiction or under the cut. I hope you enjoy. ^.^

Solace in Your Arms

The contrast of what Magnolia had once been compared to what it was at that moment was staggering. Where once proud buildings had been standing, piles of rubble now took their place. Streets that once held busy marketplaces now were silent and empty. A town that had been known for its lively atmosphere and welcoming ways now stood nearly silent, entirely changed from what it once was. When Laxus looked around, he found it hard to believe that it was the same town he lived in; that it was his home.

Nobody had expected the war. A country an ocean away from Fiore had been overrun by militant-like dark guilds without anybody realising. As the country was small and relatively docile, the new leader's lust for power wasn't fulfilled. They had turned to Fiore to fix this, sending armies to the other country's coast in the hopes that they could take it over.

Initially, the Rune-Knights had been taken unaware. The dark guild had more troops and more power than anyone could have predicted, and their attacks on Fiore had been devastating for those effected. When the severity of the war was realised, the magic council realised that the fight could not be won without the help of every guild's combined strength. All capable mages and fighters joined the fight in some capacity. The weaker and less experienced were positioned as guards in small towns, acting as a secondary line of defence. Anyone with healing magic were placed in hospitals near the battlegrounds, speeding up the recovery of troops so they could fight again. And the strongest mages, such as Laxus Dreyar, were forced to fight on the front lines.

The war changed Fiore. It was undeniable. Coastal towns had been affected the most, with mass evacuations occurring, houses being turned into makeshift hospitals and structures falling every day. But nowhere had been safe from the war, and Magnolia was a testament to this.

But the war was won. Fiore was filled with mages and willing fighters that had, after months of vicious fighting and battles, overwhelmed the dark guild. They had been pushed back into their own country, and the new leaders were now being dealt with there as well. It had been a hard fight, and no part of Fiore would be the same from that point onwards, but the war was over with Fiore as the victors.

It was over.

After the declaration of victory, mages were permitted to return home from their posts. Nobody had any control over where they had been stationed. Laxus had been taken to a small but significant port town that had been under almost constant attack. He'd both defended ships taking in rations for the country and fought against invaders who saw it as an easy way onto the mainlands. He had fought along side mages from almost all guilds, as well as the army, but with no members of Fairy Tail. Without his husband.

News of his husband had been limited to say the least; any questions he had were met with demands to keep his mind on the battle. He only knew that Freed was stationed in another coastal town on the other side of the damn country because Gray, who was placed in a traveling group that had been in the same town as Freed, had been able to tell him in the week that he was assisting against an all-out barrage on the town Laxus was protecting. Even though it had been the smallest amount of information, Laxus had nearly broken down at the knowledge his husband had been safe and healthy.

But that was over now. He was back in Magnolia again and didn't have to worry about people getting hurt in battle. Or, perhaps worse could have happened…

He shook his head slightly, he didn't need to think like that. Earlier in the day, almost immediately after getting off the train, his grandfather had pounced on him and enveloped him in a hug. It was perhaps unexpected, as was the crying that accompanied it, but damn was it welcomed. Makarov had informed him that he would be staying at the train station all day and that every Fairy Tail member, including Laxus, would be instructed to go to the cathedral as the guild-hall had been destroyed in an aerial attack.

The blonde had offered to stay by his grandfather's side, but Makarov had denied this. He claimed that it wasn't needed, but Laxus guessed he was hardly keeping it together and having the blonde by his side wouldn't exactly help matters.

He had bene one of the first to get to the cathedral as the town he'd been positioned in wasn't too far away from Magnolia. He'd spoken to the few mages that were already there, nothing more than pleasantries to distract him. Slowly, more and more people began to gather around the cathedral. The reunions Laxus saw were filled with emotions, a mixture of relief for the safety of loved ones and ecstasy that their troubles seemed to be over. It seemed that the cathedral was the meeting point for everyone, as not only mages were involved in the emotional meetings.

Time went by and the emotions turned more festive. The crowd thickened, and some people began to play music. Members of the cathedral began to serve food as well, an intoxicating stew that invaded Laxus' nostrils every time he was nearby. It never tempted him, he was distracted by the ball of nausea and worry in his stomach.

He'd been around the cathedral for more than an hour at that point. Freed had yet to be seen.

It was hard not to panic. He'd tried not to worry, telling himself anything to calm his nerves. Maybe Freed was already there, he just hadn't been able to see him through the thick crowd of people. He convinced himself that nothing bad had happened to Freed, if his husband had been hurt then he would have been the first to know! There were procedures to inform the families of troops if something happened to them; Laxus was Freed's family. Even with this in mind, he was scared.

Again, he shook his head. The more he worried about this, the worse his fears would get. Instead, he would distract himself by walking around. He had almost been sure he'd caught a glance of Evergreen earlier in the hour, and he wanted to be sure she was okay. That would be one less worry at least.

If any of his team, or his guild, didn't return he didn't know how he'd react…

Silently scolding himself for thinking in that way, he slowly walked from where he was and around the crowd. He walked past groups of people, some happy while others wracked with nerves for the same reasons he was. When he caught sight of a young mage holding a small piece of paper crying and being comforted by a group of people, he made sure not to look any longer. The person probably didn't want someone leaning over them at such a troubling time.

It took some time, but he eventually found Evergreen around the side of the cathedral. When he saw her, she was wrapped tightly in Elfman's arms with the other two Strauss siblings nearby. The fact she was seemingly safe and healthy, along with the Strauss', gave him a sense of comfort. Soon, he and Freed would be like Ever and Elf, he just needed to be patient.

Although he knew the distraction would do him good, he decided not to approach his teammate. If Laxus was correct, the two would have had no interactions with each other for months. This was their moment, they didn't need Laxus getting in the way of it.

"Sickening, ain't it?"

Laxus' head shot around at the recognisable voice. He was met with the grinning face only Bickslow could pull off. He had a small amount of dried blood on his face, a deep purple bruise on his neck and was resting on crutches with one leg raised in a cast. Despite his clearly injured state, he seemed in high and jovial spirits, as expected of the man. Laxus felt a lump rise in his throat.

"We were on the train together." Bickslow continued with a grin. "Three hours with her. She hardly stopped talking about him, nearly jumped off the tracks with how much-"

The soul mage was cut off when he was taken into a hug that nearly knocked him off his good leg, making him use the crutches for balance. When stable, he moved his arm around Laxus and patted him on the back. The hug was strong, bone crushingly so, and had a lot of emotion behind it. That, combined with the fact Freed was nowhere to be found, told Bickslow everything he needed to know about what Laxus was going through.

"He not back yet, huh?" He asked, voice a little more comforting.

Laxus shook his head softly, not trusting his voice enough not to crack. He doubted Bickslow would have judged him on it if he did, but he still didn't want to let it happen.

"I know it ain't helpful to say, but I'm sure he's fine." Bickslow smiled softly, pulling away and patting Laxus on the shoulder. "He's a smart and strong guy, right? He would have made sure to keep himself safe."

"Yeah, I know." Laxus sighed. "It's just… the longer it takes, the worse it feels."

"I get that." Bickslow said, shuffling so he was properly leaning on his crutches. "Don't suppose you know where he was?"

"In the west somewhere. Least, that's what Gray told me when I saw him."

"Then you shouldn't worry. We were dismissed in the morning, right? Getting here from the west coast takes like five hours, right. It's twelve right now and all the trains are full." Bickslow smiled. "He's probably on the way here now. Don't worry."

With a sigh, Laxus knew he was right. The west coast was a long while away, even by train, and the trains would have been completely full of mages. Freed wouldn't be able to teleport back, the distance would have drained his magic while at full capacity, never mind how little he would have at the end of the damn war. He just needed to be patient and wait for Freed to come back on whatever train he had gotten into. His husband was too skilled to die in the war, he was just running later than Laxus had expected.

Clenching his eyes as if scolding himself, he nodded again. Casting another look at Bickslow he was glad to see he had no bandage wrapped around him other than on his leg. The blonde suspected that he wouldn't have helped any injuries on his torso with the hug he had forced on the man.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked, forcing a small smile. "Most people healed up a little by now. You didn't jump off the train to get away from Ever, did ya?"

"Nah. I was in one of the last fights, happened two days ago actually. Some crafty shits jumped me and got me like this." He chuckled. "Beat them to hell, of course, but when it's five on one you ain't gonna get out without a few cuts and bruises."

"Guess so. Glad you're okay." Laxus smiled weakly. "You didn't have a healer with you to fix the leg?"

"We did, just didn't need it. Last fight was vicious, so were the injuries." Bickslow sighed a little. "We only had two qualified healers, the others were just trained on the job. Place was overrun. I'm more used to injuries because of the S-Class missions I go on, so I thought I could probably deal with it without putting more strain on them. Plus, guaranteed seat on the train."

Laxus chuckled a little, glad that Bickslow was able to be in high spirits. It was rubbing off on him slightly, and he did feel a sense of relief in that both Evergreen and Bickslow were safe and home. If nothing else, he had the two of them and his grandfather with him.

The two men walked towards a small bench and sat down so that Bickslow could take the pressure off his leg. They spoke for a little while, during which they had both explained how their time in service had been and watched as Evergreen and Elfman enjoyed each other's company a short while away. Laxus could hardly blame them, he knew that he would act in the same way the moment he saw Freed. Besides, knowing that Evergreen was back and exactly the same as she had been before was all that Laxus needed.

Part way though a conversation in which Bickslow was telling a story about a Lamia Scale mage he'd bonded with, Laxus' ears perked up slightly. The sound of a high-pitched train whistle could be heard over the sound of talking and, when he looked towards the station, he could see a long trail of steam in the air.

"You okay?" Bickslow asked when he noticed Laxus not paying attention.

"Sorry, heard the train and thought…" He stopped himself. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're worried, it's fine." Bickslow grinned in a way he hoped Laxus was comforted by. He quickly glanced up to a large clock, seeing it was twenty minutes past twelve. "Doesn't the west-to-east train come in about now?"

Laxus looked up towards the clock at the statement. The Raijinshuu often needed to get on that train and it always managed to arrive at twenty past the hour, every two hours. Laxus also knew that the west-to-east train was what Freed would need to get to arrive in Magnolia from any part of west Fiore. Meaning that, if Freed had gotten on one of the earlier trains as Laxus hoped he would, then there was a chance he would have been on that very train. He looked towards Bickslow immediately.

"You don't mind-"

"Go." Bickslow immediately ordered. "I'll tell Ever you were here if she can peel herself off the hunk."

"Thanks." Laxus smiled, patting a hand on Bickslow's shoulder. He stood up and went to go, but Bickslow grabbed him and looked at him with the smallest amount of worry in his eyes. Laxus frowned.

"Just make sure you don't panic if he's not there, baby." Bickslow said slowly. "If he's not, it doesn't mean he ain't coming at all. They'll be coming all day, okay?"

With a curt nod, Laxus sent a small smile towards his friend. He started to walk towards the train station but didn't feel satisfied by the speed. Even running wouldn't be fast enough, so he enveloped himself in lightning and allowed his body to become the element he could control; he was exhausted, and his magic was depleted, but he knew he had enough to get to the train station. He wanted to make sure that he was on the platform the moment Freed got from the train, he wouldn't let a little tiredness stop that from happening.

He diminished his lightning the moment he was near the train station. Before stepping in, he had to pause and collect his thoughts. Bickslow was right, he couldn't assume Freed was on one of the earliest trains of the day. If his husband didn't leave the train, it just meant he was going to be on the next one.

Focusing on that, he walked though the small train station and towards the platform. The train was slowly pulling in and, from where Laxus was standing, he could see it was entirely full. He could also see Makarov get up from the bench he was sitting on, perhaps meaning that there were at least some Fairy Tail mages waiting on the fully packed vehicle. He felt the ball of nausea form in his stomach again.

The time it took for the train to stop and the doors to open was excruciating. Laxus had to dig his fingernails into his hands as the doors were slung open and the crowds were slowly flowing out of them.

Everything was a haze of faces and clothing as people left the train. Although his sight seemed to blur slightly as the nausea took over, Laxus could see that some of the mages from the train were told to go to the cathedral by Makarov in the same way that he had earlier in the day. None of them were Freed, so he didn't particularly care.

"Come on Freed." He whispered to himself, foot nervously tapping against the floor. "Just fucking be here."

He began to grind his teeth in worry. He knew he had told himself that it didn't matter if Freed didn't come from this particular train, but a sick sensation had filled his stomach and showed no sign of leaving. Even with all his reasoning, he couldn't drop the thought that the worst had happened, and he wasn't going to see his husband again. The very idea of that was devastating, and every second he would have to wait made it infinitely worse.

Breathing now slightly haggard, Laxus looked with desperation towards the doors which were still crowded. He felt himself lose faith and his sanity slip away slightly, a mixture of sadness and rage filling his soul as the nausea took over.

That's when he saw it.

A flash of dirty green hair leaving the train and entering the crowd. As it thinned, Laxus kept his eyes on the figure and saw as a red coat was revealed. As the crowd dispersed further and the figure walked through it, Laxus was presented with the most angelic, perfect sight he could ever hope to see. His husband, alive and well.

Laxus acted on instinct. He walked towards Freed as quickly as the area allowed him, occasionally having to push people out of the way. As he got closer, he saw that Freed had yet to realise he was there, but the blonde didn't care. Every step he took got him closer to Freed, closer to the confirmation that his husband was alive and right before him.

They were soon inches from each other, where Freed finally recognised him. There was a moment of silence between them as they looked each other up and down, both experiencing a chaotic flurry of emotions that no words could convey.

After what felt like an eternity of looking at each other, Laxus wrapped his arms around Freed with more strength that he knew he had. He burrowed his face in the crook of the mans shoulders, taking in every aspect of the man he loved. His touch, his smell, his beauty, his majesty. Everything. Freed was there, in his arms for the first time in months, and god damn did it feel better than anything he could ever feel.

Freed carefully wrapped one of his arms around Laxus while pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. He too then placed his head in the other mans shoulders. That was how they stood for some moments, all wordless emotions being spoken through the tight embrace.

"Thank fuck." Laxus whispered, removing his head and revealing his misty eyes. "I missed you so fucking much."

"I missed you too." Freed spoke in a gentle, almost fragile tone. "You're okay, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Fine." Laxus said, resting their forehead together. He wanted as much physical contact as he could get. "Are you?"

"As good as to be expected." Freed smiled slightly, leaning up and gently pressing their lips together. "I really did miss you. It was hell going through that without you."

At that, Laxus felt his eyes sting with tears. He shared the sentiment, waking up without his husband at such a time was comparable to hell. Not only did he not have the support of the man he loved more than anyone else, but every morning he was left with the burning doubt that something could have happened to Freed throughout the day and he would have been unable to help him. Every moment he had thought about Freed in those months of fighting, it felt as though acid had replaced his skin and was burning away at his flesh. The idea of Freed feeling the same way was only slightly less sickening than the worry he'd had for his safety.

With emotions that words still could yet describe, Laxus leant forward and took the mans lips with his own in a soft, chaste kiss that showed how much had had missed the other. Freed returned it with just as much desperation, holding Laxus close; both men had no intention of breaking apart now that they were together.

When they had pulled back for air, their foreheads were resting together, and eyes engrossed in each other. After being apart for so long, neither could quite believe that they were standing together again. For the first time since the war had begun, they felt safe and secure again. It was magical.

"How long were you waiting?" Freed asked softly.

"Couple of hours." Laxus admitted, kissing Freed softly again. "Spent most of it at the cathedral, think Gramps wants to make a celebration or something?"

"Were Bicks and Ever there?"

"Yeah. They're fine. Totally fine."

"Good." Freed whispered with a nod.

The loud sound of a whistle told the couple that the train had gone. The platform began to thin out, taking many mages towards the cathedral. From where Laxus stood, he could see that his grandfather was talking to Lucy and Laki, who had left the train together. He looked towards his grandson and sent him a soft smile, which the blonde reciprocated.

Slowly, they pulled apart. He would have much rather kept his husband close but knew that wasn't possible. All that mattered was that Freed was here and he was alive. After all they had been through, that was all the blonde could ask for. When they pulled away, Laxus looked at Freed properly. His clothes were dirty, hair unkept and arm resting in a sling. Laxus frowned, looking at Freed with worry.

"There's a numbing rune on it." Freed assured him, smiling softly. "It's practically settled already. Don't worry."

"You sure?" Laxus asked, Freed nodding "You weren't able to make numbing runes before, could you?"

"I've got a couple new tricks. Started to learn the healing aspects of rune magic, just in case." Freed explained quietly, placing his hand on Laxus' cheek. "Should we go? It's been quite some time since we all shared a drink, it would be nice to do it again."

"Yeah." Laxus smiled, a small laugh leaving his lips. "That'd be great."

The two slowly walked out of the train station, Laxus standing to the side of Freed so their hands could be intertwined. The lump in his throat had gone and he was feeling a sense of ecstasy that he couldn't explain. He had never felt so safe as he did with Freed beside him and knowing that he was still alive and standing mere inches from him as they went towards their team to drink, as they had done multiple times before the war had begun, felt like heaven.

Laxus couldn't bite back his smile. The war was one. He was back in magnolia. Freed was beside him and they were going to drink the night away with the rest of Fairy Tail. For the first time since the war's beginning, he was happy.

[forcejourney]

“Tars’ Story”

By VaderGamer

My name is unimportant, but if you must know, it is Reginald Waters. I am a reporter of sorts, a gatherer of tales as well. But the tale I have gathered here is a secret, one that must not be let out until it is safe for those involved, for this story happened.

I had heard of rebellious figures that opposed the Empire. Movies had been made about them, the Empire had killed them. So it was not so hard for me to find Rebels that got away using the Imperial Holonet. Secretly, of course, as I was not strictly allowed to access the files. It so happened that I came upon Tars Alin, wanted fugitive. His crimes: grand theft from the Emperor himself, treason, and warmongering. Alin had led a mostly unrecorded life until his rebellious organization was formed after Order 66, on Montu Cordu. The planet was attacked eventually, killing thousands, and forcing Alin and his friends to leave.

My challenge was to find Alin, and get his story, for it was important to me that I get his side as well. I do not have any grievance against the Empire. It doesn’t affect me. But it was illegal nonetheless to find Tars Alin and not report him, to get his story and keep it hidden from the Empire this long. I persist, anyway.

I found Alin on Naboo, the owner of a pazaak den called The Golden Card. It was a stroke of luck, as I had only followed rumors and stories from the survivors of Montu Cordu to get there. After Alin had displayed his shock of me knowing his involvement with the Empire by tackling me to the floor, he settled.

“I come as a friend, to hear your story,” I said, and explained my secret business. I assured him that no record of our conversation would appear anywhere, unless it was someone he allowed me to show it to, so that the Empire would never find out about him or his friends. He hesitantly agreed to talk to me. 

Well, where to begin? My name is Tars Alin, as I’m sure you know. I’m a human, simple as that. I was born on Coruscant twenty-eight years ago. My father was Hedrick Alin, a shipyard worker. I remember helping him with his repairs when he needed me to, and that was always, as he was barely scraping by as it was. He couldn’t support me, his only child. My mother was dead; she died a long time ago.

I learned to build, to fly. I could repair almost any kind of problem your ship can have. Eventually I decided that I couldn’t be a bother to my dad anymore. He could live by himself if he didn’t have to support me. I had decided to leave home, get a job, and become successful. Before I could leave, though, he was killed.

Well, he wasn’t killed. Tragic as it was, he really just died. An unfortunate shipyard accident. One of the anti-matter levitators had failed, and the ship he was working on crushed him. Killed by his livelihood.

I…well, I had lost someone before. It…could have been worse. My life was a wreck for a while. I ran away from my home, taking what valuables I could. I was fourteen? I think so.

I could tell you of the time I spent as a beggar, but that was not long. Then I worked at a Cantina. For a few years I got by. Then I became a thief. I was never caught.

I was about eighteen when I stole my first valuable. A watch from a store. I sold it for twenty credits. Thus began a period of time where I stole and sold, becoming moderately wealthy. I had amassed a thousand credits by the time I was nineteen. I used the money to buy a junker, a real old ship. I called her Money. She seated two, and had a small cargo area. Ah, those were good times….

I could tell you how I used Money to do odd jobs, and some smuggling, but that’s not really what you’re here for, I know. I sold Money after two years of hard work and saving, and eventually bought the Tars I. I stepped up my game, hauling more cargo and getting more money. I eventually became well-known in the Coruscant underworld. I suppose it was then that I began to take action against the Empire. Well, then, it was still the Republic.

I met some people; they are the ones you want to hear about. Arbacca, a stubborn Wookiee, Santo, a smart Jedi…Panzer, he was a Mandalorian, ‘nuff said. Nat, a Duros, came a little later. I suppose I’ll tell you about them later. I worked with them as a pilot, helping them take down gang lords and such. For the Republic’s benefit.

One day we had to scale the Republic 500, the Chancellor’s place. It was dangerous; you remember the attack on Coruscant, by the Separatists? We killed so many droids. It was kind of fun. We reached the top, trying to rescue Palpatine or somesuch. He wasn’t in his office. We looked around.

I saw his computer. “Order 66” was there, and details of what was going to happen. I was outraged, and so were my friends. I stole about a million credits from Palpatine’s desk. I suppose it was some kind of stolen money anyway, as no one has any business having that much in cash. We had to warn the Jedi.

I took the others in my speeder, and we flew away from the building. We were shot down by droids, buried in the undercity of Coruscant. I remember all going black. I though everyone was dead. If only we were that lucky….

We woke up weeks later. It could have been only a week, I don’t know. Order 66 had already happened. We were too late. All the Jedi were dead. The Chancellor had become the Emperor. And we were in the middle of it.

My friends, mostly being Jedi, had to hide. I supposed that I would join them. I think something inside me wanted to. I still had the million credits. We bought a ship and headed out-system. It was Arbacca’s suggestion to go to Montu Cordu. That’s when we began to build.

I’ll take it slower from here, if you don’t mind? Yeah, I know. I was intoxicated with money. I had never had that much before. I spend it on clothes, a speeder, used it to impress women. I remember a Twi’lek cook I had…made the best Nerf. Anyway, Arbacca had it in his head to make an army. He’s always been fussing around with his droids, building them better and making them stronger.

Eventually he had a little HQ set up. A cafeteria mess hall too. He’d convinced a bunch of Jawas from Tatooine—no, seriously—to come and work for him. They built his droid army and stuff. Fun to party with, those little guys.

We all had rooms in the HQ dorms. I had mine, and there was also one for Gabe, the little Jedi clone-boy, Nat, the Duro, Sev, a Jedi Mandalorian, as well. Gabe never stayed much. He was always missing, usually on Tatooine. He had a girl, too; got her pregnant. I big fiasco. I’m not sure what happened to him. Went off to save the world, I imagine.

Santo had disappeared. We all were wondering where he was. We didn’t find him for a while….

That’s a good story. I’ll start there.

Santo was a Jedi, tall and handsome, in his pale sort of way. He had longish black hair and a blue, double-saber. We went looking for him often, ever since he disappeared. It was on a random hyperspace travel that we were interrupted by some kind of field. It powered the ship down and we were helpless.

I was there, and some others as well. Arbacca and Sev, or Panzer. One of the Mandalorians. We came upon the Cube.

The Cube was a massive, well, cube, in space. Much bigger than our ship, and about as big as a Republic troop carrier. It glowed. Green. We were stuck, and all scared. The Cube had a tractor beam, and brought us in.

Inside was nothing. Nobody. We left the ship to find out what was happening.

A voice on some kind of intercom blurted out. We listened to what it had to say.

Apparently, we were some kind of game. She had unlimited resources to her disposal—it was a girl, she wouldn’t tell us her name—and we had to find her.

I personally didn’t want to find her, but seeing as the ship was powered down and a monitor with a countdown popped out of the wall, I guessed I didn’t have much of a choice.

There were mechanical spiders first. Hundreds of them. We had just left the hangar when we came upon a massive room with big pillars down the middle and holes in the walls. We shut them down somehow. It became dark, and we all were moving down a tunnel….

I’m sorry if this sounds jerky. I can’t…remember it all that well. We came upon the darkest room of all. There were eyes. I remember what they sounded like.

“GRAK!” over, over and over again. Monsters, with wings. Lizards. There was a big one. We ran. We shot a few, then ran.

Eventually we found the Mistress. That is what she called herself. Santo was kneeling before her.

“Santo!” I yelled, and he looked back. His face was angry, his eyes red. His hair was jagged and untamed.

He didn’t seem to care. He ignited his saber and we fought. Him and the Mistress against all of us. It was a long battle, but we won, just barely.

Santo had turned to the Dark. We had killed the Mistress, and all of a sudden he was better. He still looked bad, but he wasn’t evil anymore. She must have had some kind of spell on him. He broke down sobbing.

We asked him what was wrong. He killed Terra, his wife. The Mistress told him that she killed Liam, and Santo believed her. Liam was dead too. Liam was his Padawan. He left us then, and told us he’d never come back, and that he was going to do…something.

He deactivated the beam and left. We tried to catch up but couldn’t. He was fast. We escaped the Cube. I don’t know where it is now.

When we got back to Montu Cordu we had a new friend. His name was Damian, a huge man from the Cube. He had been under the Mistress’ spell too, but we rescued him. His home was Montu Cordu, ironically enough. We let him go home, and he lived there until the Invasion. Then he died, protecting his wife and kids.

It’s a shame. But some good came of Montu Cordu. Some, anyway.

Sev was only on the planet for a little while when Nahari came along.

Sev was sixteen, a real stupid teenager. Nahari was a less stupid teenager, older than him, a Mandalorian, true blooded. They met in a bar and hit it off immediately. He told me that she had made very…aggressive moves towards him in his ship, just afterward. They were married soon after. I don’t blame him. There’s nothing hotter than a female Mandalorian, if you haven’t seen one before.

I met Nahari’s older friend, Josey. It’s…hard for me to talk about her. Even now. I’ve…moved on, sort of. Well, I’m seeing someone else right now, but….

We were married. Best times of my life. I was the Admiral of our Navy, the Montu Cordu Resistance or something. I was young, and happy. She got pregnant, but I didn’t know until…well, nine months came along. You see, I was fighting against the Empire then. We had a little help from an Ackbar character. Gave us two HUGE ships, I’m not even joking.

Another Jedi, well, a few actually, had joined us by then. Me and the Jedi were fighting the Emperor, side by side. Well, I suppose it was really the Jedi and me, as I’m less important than any Jedi, right? Tamor’a, an…attractive, to say the least, Jedi, with a yellow saber, we met on Cordu. Candrai was a pointy-eared Jedi. Dark Side when we met him, Light Side after; you know. Zolar, he’s funny. A Zabrak Jedi. He was with us just after Montu Cordu. With them, Gabe, Sev, Santo and Terra, we had a good little army.

As you know, things kind of fell apart, and we’d lost a few towards the end. Gabe also disappeared. I’m repeating myself.

We fought the biggest battle; three ways—Bloodlust Pirates, the Empire, and us.

We were nearly destroyed. I survived, with the Jedi, the Wookiee, and a few droids. We retreated to Montu Cordu. It was the first time in nine months I’d been there, and I heard that my wife was giving birth.

I went to the moon of Montu Cordu, where our second base was, but it was bombed. The Empire had ambushed us! It was the beginning of the Montu Cordu Invasion.

Josey died…just after giving birth to my little Aelias. I was a wreck, much more than after my father had died. Not only that, our entire operation was destroyed. We had to run, we had to hide. And where did we end up?

Arbacca ended up in Tatooine, working for Jabba. I am here, on Naboo, with Candrai and Tamor’a. Zolar is building a home on Arodoni VIII. Sev is on Mandalore with his family. Nat is here, with his family, doing trans-atmosphere jobs.

My new girl? That’s Harene, Sev’s sister. He’s not too happy about it.

Other adventures? I’m not sure I have the time. Maybe someday.

The Empire? I can’t really do anything about it. I don’t plan to. Hopefully I’ll be able to adventure some more one day. In fact, I’m thinking of selling the Card.

Yeah, I skipped a few parts, but they aren’t for me to tell. I hope you got everything.

My interview with Tars had left me frustrated and irritated. Surely he had a better memory? I couldn’t find anything else from him. I wanted to know the story of so much more. About Tamor’a’s joining the group, and Candrai. Nat and Arbacca’s background. Gabe’s disappearances.

But then a thought occurred to me: I now know where Arbacca, Candrai, Sev, Tamor’a, and Zolar are. Why not ask them? I plan on doing so.