#copy convoy

[wavesinereverse-blog]

Transformers Generations Legacy: Evolution "Nemesis Leo Prime"

got the Copy Convoy version instead of the Lio Convoy version since the base paint scheme looked better to me, and also because I think this is the most show accurate Copy Convoy figure

the lion mode looks great but can't pose much

[thelastgherkin]

LEGACY EVOLUTION Voyager Nemesis Leo Prime

"Eat dirt!" – not just a battle cry, but a way of life.

More like this:

Legacy Evolution Voyager Class Leo Prime

Buzzworthy Bumblebee Worlds Collide Nemesis Primal

Generations Selects Megastorm

[plasticsparkphotos]

Transformers: Legacy Evolution - Nemesis Lio Convoy (Beast Wars II Copy Convoy)

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 10 ⬅ch.9

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | violence. sexual assault implications. blood. wc 5.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | hehe enjoy

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

…uzbekistan…

you woke to arabic voices, your eyes squinting open in discomfort. your head was pounding and your stomach thrummed with a wave of nausea. you quickly remembered you had been hit with the butt of a rifle, right beneath your ribs. you leaned over in the moving vehicle and dry heaved. 

“innahā mustayqiẓatun,” she’s awake .

you sat back up, the realization of what had happened hitting you. you went to wipe your mouth and found your hands were bound together with a rope. you groaned and awkwardly carried out the action with your hands linked. 

laswell . you quickly looked around, not seeing laswell in the the truck with you. you were in the backseat beside a man who was speaking hurriedly to the man in front, driving. you looked out the window, the town rushing by. 

“where’s laswell?” you asked, your voice hoarse. the men ignored you. “my friend. where is she?” you said with a bit more force hoping one of them would answer you. 

they continued to talk as if you weren’t there. you ground your teeth together in annoyance. you rested your head against the window, the cold of the glass helping with the tension throbbing in your skull. 

your body was still pumping with adrenaline and you were finding it hard to sit still. your fingers wound themselves together, your leg bouncing up and down. you hoped laswell was okay. you also hoped she was going to the same place you were… you didn’t want to be alone, as cruel as that might be. you were trapped in this truck with three men—three men who kidnapped you. you had no idea where they were taking you or what they were going to do with you. the panic hit you like a slap in the face.

you tried to breathe slowly, letting out low breaths, trying to steady your nerves. it did little to help. 

would the others be coming to rescue you and laswell? surely they would. shepherd wouldn’t let them give up on you two. at least not laswell, she was far too important. and price wouldn’t stand for it. 

they were coming. you prayed to god they were coming. 

“lieutenant. it’s farah. it’s time.” 

“rog. wheels down in one.” ghost voice was hoarse as he answered farah over the comms. “nik, convoy’s inbound. we’re on.”

“copy that,” nikolai responded. “over the hlz now.”

ghost’s heart rate continued to rise the longer you and laswell were kept hostage. he clenched the gun at his hip and patted himself down, making sure he had all he would need to get the two of you back. he also found it hard to stay still, his body flooded with adrenaline. 

“good. set ‘er down and hold,” ghost said. he walked to the door of the helicopter, looking between gaz and soap. “gaz, you stay in the heli on overwatch. we’ll work our way up the line.”

“roger that. let’s thin the herd, get laswell and iaso back.”

when the helicopter landed only moments later, ghost and soap connected fists with gaz as they hopped out. on the ground, dirt whipping around them from the blades of the helicopter, a woman on a rusted bike sat waiting for the two men. 

“hey, lt., sergeant,” she called out, greeting the men. 

“farah. thanks for the assist,” soap replied when ghost didn’t respond, noticing how he had tensed up.

“we share a common enemy,” farah said, nodding at the men.

“and friends in need,” ghost said a bit harshly. “are you ready?”

“all set. see you down the road!” she slid up her mask and pulled get goggles over her eyes. she looked so self-assured, ready to take down men twice her size. ghost thought about how you would have liked her. 

“all stations… we’re on the move!” ghost called as he and soap jogged up to the beige truck waiting for them. 

the two men jumped in the bed of the truck, ghost slapping the top of the roof to let the driver know they were on board and ready to go. 

the procession of three trucks and multiple motorcycles took off down the dirt road. 

“all stations, we’re up—comms check…” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ear. 

“good copy,” ghost grunted. 

“check,” gaz responded from 30 feet in the air, his sniper at the ready as he pointed it out the door of the helicopter. 

“loud and clear,” nikolai said. 

“the al-qatala convoy just passed us. we’ll be right behind them,” farah urged. 

“copy. nik, use the ravine for cover. we’ve got one shot to rescue them.”

“roger that,” nik responded to ghost. 

“what vehicle are they in?” gaz asked. 

“al-qatala has iaso in a black suv, laswel in the similar one right in front of hers. near the front of the convoy.” farah’s voice echoed. 

“we hit the escort vehicles first. then we secure laswell and iaso before aq can reach the border.” ghost commanded. “soldiers, move in!” 

gaz began to fire shots at aq that were standing in the back of truck beds. ghost gripped his gun as he aimed the barrel toward the aq vehicles up ahead. he was too far back to get a good shot and growled in irritation. 

ghost leaned over the side of the truck, shouting to the man driving, his window down. “get me up beside one of the aq trucks!”

the driver nodded and stepped on the gas. “what’re ya doin’?” soap asked ghost. 

“gettin’ the girls back,” he said before stepping onto the top of the truck and running down the front onto the hood, immediately jumping and landing on the back of an aq truck. one of the men stood and came at ghost, but gaz was faster, shooting a bullet through his skull before he could reach him. 

“thanks,” ghost said.

“don’t mention it.”

ghost’s fist came slamming down onto the other aq, shoving him off the back of the truck. he sheathed his gun momentarily, maneuvering himself over the edge of the truck, his hand clutching tightly to the metal, his other hand opening the driver’s door. the man shouted something in arabic as ghost grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped him from the truck. the man went tumbling on the pavement, his hands coming up over his head as the bikes raced around him. 

ghost pushed himself into the driver’s seat with a huff. he yanked the door shut and floored it. 

“jesus, lt.,” soap breathed, watching the events unfold. 

ghost would have chuckled at soap’s astonishment, but all that was on his mind was getting you back unharmed. 

of course ghost cared about laswell. he had worked with her for a while now, and he’d never admit it, but he cared about price too. and price and laswell were close. price had been fuming when he found out what happened on this mission—pissed at himself for not being there, as if he could have done something to stop laswell from getting taken if he hadn’t asked ghost to take his position. 

but laswell wasn’t ghost’s main objective. it was you. you were who he was about to slaughter through walls of men for. it was you his heart pounded in nerves for. he felt so sick when he thought about what they might be doing to you that he almost had to lean over to retch. 

and laswell—while out of practice—was a trained killer. you, on the other hand, had only started to take combat training seriously the past few weeks. the thought made ghost’s chest constrict painfully tight. if they put one hand on you…

he let out a shallow breath, turning the wheel to the truck abruptly, avoiding civilian cars while trying to move up the procession of aq trucks. 

soap had an eye on ghost’s truck and saw the way he was swerving between oncoming cars to get closer to the front. soap almost regretted his conversation with ghost earlier. he was worried it had gotten through to him—that ghost was ready to risk his life, acting far too rashly, to clear his conscience. 

ghost spotted the black suv farah had mentioned earlier up ahead. it was pretty far off in the distance and with aq trucks clogging the road, and oncoming traffic coming from the other direction, ghost slammed his hand on the wheel in frustration. it was going to take too long for him to get up close. 

“throwing molotov!” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ears, bringing him back to the moment. he saw the truck behind him go up in flames in his side mirror. 

“heh-heh… i missed farah,” nikolai laughed. 

the commotion in his ears faded to a rumble. ghost was focusing on how to get to you before it was too late, everything else was just background noise to him. he heard nikolai and gaz yelling in his ears but nothing was getting through to him. 

an aq truck pulled up beside him and ghost immediately pulled his gun and began shooting. the truck stuttered backward before pulling back up and firing at him again. ghost ducked and swerved the vehicle. he slammed the side of his truck into the other, catching them off guard and using that as an opportunity to shoot back at them. before he could reload, the enemy truck exploded, turning into a ball of flames. 

he heard farah laughing over the comms. jesus, she was intense, and ghost was thankful for it. 

the further he drove, the farther you seemed to get from him. civilian vehicles were only getting in the way, the aq trucks swerving all over the road, preventing ghost and his other men from getting past them. 

a car exploded before ghost, making him grip the wheel tightly, trying to turn out of the way. that wasn’t an aq truck…

“they’re taking down civilian vehicles! blocking the roads!”

shit. 

you heard the explosions going off somewhere in the distance behind you. you turned to look out the back window and saw a large commotion, vehicles going all over the road, a procession of motorcycles with riders shooting men in trucks. 

a feeling of relief swam through you— they came. 

you continued to watch, unable to do anything else. you observed as a car that was rushing in the opposite direction blew up, rotating onto its back and igniting in flames. 

“wait… those are just civillians,” you muttered to yourself. “hey! you’re killing innocent people!” you shouted. you couldn’t believe it. they were taking innocent lives, completely uncaring, their only objective was to block the roads. 

you turned to the man beside you in astonishment, ready to yell again, when his hand came down on your face, slapping you across the cheek. your head flew in the opposite direction, your lips parting in a gasp. 

“no more talking,” he said in a heavy accent. 

you gulped, looking forward. you licked your lips and could taste the blood from your busted lip. the other men laughed as they looked at you in the rearview mirror, muttering something you couldn’t understand in arabic. 

you were going to have to be smarter about this. you sat silently in your seat. you began to worry that your teammates wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. there were a lot of aq vehicles trailing behind you. you weren’t sure how they’d manage to get through them all. 

you heard the engine of a helicopter and you turned, looking out one of the back windows again. your jaw dropped. oh my god, was that gaz? gaz was fucking hanging from a rope attached to the helicopter, upside down, continuing to shoot at enemy soldiers. you gasped when he almost swung right into a truck. your heart raced as you watched him. 

a bend in the road cut off your vision and you faced forward again. you didn’t want anyone risking their life for you. as much as you wanted rescuing, you didn’t want it at the expense of others. the image of gaz swinging wildly in the air was plastered in your mind. these men were going to get themselves killed. and it was going to be your fault. 

ghost felt like he was running out of options as you rapidly approached the border. 

“gaz, nik—my spotters are reporting an aq roadblock ahead.” farah’s voice came in through the comms in a level-headed voice. 

“affirm, i see it,” nikolai responded. “you might have to ram through.”

“crash it. kill as many as you can,” ghost echoed into his mic. 

ghost gripped his steering wheel, stepping on the gas as he approached the roadblock. he spotted gaz coming up right behind him in an aq truck. 

both men tore through the aq men, trudging past the trucks lined up to block them, destroying anything in their wake. ghost felt beyond destructive. he felt lethal.

“nik, i punched through,” gaz said as him and ghost got on the other side of the roadblock. 

“be advised. there is a situation up the road.” nikolai’s voice sent a shiver through ghost. he was just waiting for someone to say your black suv blew up, or crashed, or they lost track of it. 

“aq is deploying mines on the highway!”

“these are civillains, nik,” gaz said in anguish. “aq will burn for this.”

“i’ll bring the matches,” farah chimed in. 

ghost managed to weave between the charred cars, praying he didn’t hit a mine. 

further up the road, ghost swung open his door, timing it just right so when an aq motorcycle rode up right beside him, with great strength, he shoved the man off and hopped on. he watched as the truck ran off the road and crashed into a rocky hill. 

ghost revved the bike’s engine, gaining far more speed than he ever could in the pilfered truck. 

he heard gaz and nik conversing, then soap yelling over the comms for gaz to get on board the truck bed he was in. 

ghost floored it down the road, watching as the procession ahead of him split off in two different directions. 

“shit! they’re splitting them up!” soap called out. 

“who do we follow?” gaz asked as he picked up the grenade launcher.

ghost grit his teeth. “soap, gaz—follow laswell. i’ll follow iaso.” 

“you sure, lt.?”

“we don’t have time to argue about this, soap. just go.”

soap and gaz looked at one another before nodding. the convoy split up. soap and gaz followed laswell and ghost went off the road, following the black suv you were trapped inside. the car was going too fast for the others to keep up. ghost was glad he got on a bike, it was the only way he’d be able to get up to you in time. 

ghost’s own words rang in his head, the ones he had said to you in the bar. the words that hurt you. the words he had regretted ever since they left his tongue. you were going to die thinking he hated you. thinking he used you. 

ghost clenched the handlebars to the bike tighter, narrowing his eyes as he hurried behind you. he was going to get you back even if it killed him.

you knew you were going off the road the second the vehicle began to bump up and down. you tried to clutch onto something to keep from falling off the seat, but it was difficult with your hands tied. 

the men in the suv with you were yelling at one another. then the stout man beside you leaned out his window and began shooting. 

you turned to look out the window. your stomach dropped. the convoy was gone. you only saw one motorcycle trailing behind you. the others must have split off. this was their plan. to split you and laswell up, thus splitting up the convoy of rescuers. 

you tried not to let the fact that only one person was trailing you to hurt your feelings. now was not the time to be sensitive. but you couldn’t help but wonder if laswell had the rest of your team following her. it made sense, though. she was laswell… and you were just…iaso.

you yelped as the vehicle took an abrupt turn, making you slam into the man beside you. he shoved you off and rushed to reload his gun. you looked behind you in horror, realizing it was ghost on the bike, finally able to make out his mask as he edged closer. 

the man beside you went to lean back out the window, ready to send bullets in ghost’s direction. you acted before you could think, using your tied hands to claw at his back. you gripped onto the cotton material of his shirt and yanked him backward. he was so caught off guard from the sudden attack that he stumbled and crashed back on the seat beside you. 

he said something in arabic then hit you across the face again. your head flew back and hit the edge of the door. you groaned in pain. you squeezed your eyes shut, your head throbbing. 

they took a sharp turn and you were jostled back, opening your eyes in response. the man in the passenger’s seat leaned out his window now and began to shoot his pistol. you heard him make a celebratory noise and you almost broke your neck turning around to look for ghost. 

ghost’s bike skidded out from under him, sending him crashing down. the bullet had blown a hole in his tire. 

“no,” you said softly. your lips trembling. he was your last hope. 

you watched full of dread as the truck carried you away. ghost sat up and brushed himself off. he looked out after you, standing in the middle of nowhere, at a loss of what to do. 

tears began to slide down your cheek.

“i lost her,” ghost said over the comms in a newfound sense of defeat. soap had never heard his voice sound quite like that. 

there was a moment of silence before ghost heard ruffling and then soap’s voice. 

“come again, lt.?”

ghost was walking back from where he came, following the tracks in the dirt. “iaso. she got away.”

again there was radio silence. 

“im on my way,” ghost heard farah say. 

“farah—”

she cut ghost off. “i started trailing you as soon as we picked off the remaining aq trucks. we’re almost to you. stay put,” she demanded. 

it wasn’t long before farah was riding up with two other men on bikes. “what happened?” farah asked, her bike skidding to a halt. 

“fuckers blew my tire. they still got iaso.”

farah looked at one of her soldiers and nodded. he hopped off his bike and held it up for ghost. farah laughed as ghost looked confused. “get on. we’re goin’ to get her.”

“laswell?” ghost asked, wanting to know if she had at least made it out okay. 

“soap and gaz got her. she’s safe.”

ghost took in a breath before accepting the bike and getting on. “let's go get her back, lieutenant.”

with a new rush of energy, ghost took off, following the tracks of the suv alongside farah and another soldier. 

“she couldn’t have gotten far!” farah called out. 

when the suv came to a stop, you were quickly escorted out of the vehicle. you stumbled, the men giving you no time to right yourself before they pushed you into a wooden building. the men roughly jostled you through the door, your eyes attempting to adjust to the dark. 

you struggled to make out where you were before the man whose hands were holding your arm shoved you into a small room. you fell to the floor at the sudden force. 

the man spat something at you that you didn’t understand then he slammed the door shut behind him. you were left alone in the room and you tried to sit up. your arm was already bruising from where he held you, and you could feel blood dripping down the side of your face. 

you scooted yourself into the corner and hugged your knees to your chest, your wrists beginning to burn as they constantly rubbed against the binding rope. 

you tried to hold back the wave of tears but you failed. you hoped they made it to kate. you hoped she wasn’t going through the same thing you were right now. though, if she was, she was no doubt coping much better than you. 

you looked around the room, trying to clear your vision from tears by blinking repeatedly. the room was mostly empty except for a chair and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an interrogation room. 

the notion plummeted inside your stomach, making you bury your face in your knees. you weren’t going to survive this. you were weak. you were suddenly pissed at price for letting you join his team. you weren’t cut out for this shit. you were a medic, not a damn fighter. 

minutes ticked by and your tears finally dried up. the longer you sat, the more fear was instilled inside you. you regretted cursing price out already, knowing it wasn’t his fault any of this happened to you. usually, you were good under extreme pressure, but that was only when it came to medical stuff. not when you were being kidnapped. 

god, your head was killing you. you hoped you didn’t look as bad as you felt. 

the metal door scrapped along the cement floor as it opened. you looked up in horror as a man stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. he grinned when he looked at you huddled in the corner. 

“you don’t appear to be a soldier,” he said, his accent dripping over every word. 

“i’m a medic,” you said, your voice only slightly wavering. 

the man made a humming sound as he dug around in his pocket. “well, then i’m sorry to have to do this to you, but really, we have no choice.” he gestured around him. the sardonic smile on his face said he didn’t mean any of the words he was saying. he likely couldn’t wait to torture you for information, even when you’d be unable to offer anything useful. he just needed an excuse to hurt someone.

he nudged his head towards the metal chair. “don’t make me have to help you up,” he grunted. 

you quickly got to your feet and sat in the chair, your body shaking with nerves. the man grinned as he dragged the knife he drew from his pocket along your arm. “been awhile since i’ve done this to a woman. i’d be lying if i said i haven’t missed it.”

you swallowed painfully as he trailed the knife up to your neck. “you’re sick,” you spat at him. 

he chuckled. “indeed.”

you knew then that nothing you said was going to help you. this man didn’t care if you knew anything or not. he just wanted to hurt you. you didn’t want to cry, but the tears began to fall again anyway. you tried so hard to keep them in. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

he licked his lips as he watched the tears glide down your cheeks. “pretty thing like you shouldn’t cry,” he said menacingly. 

he took his knife and traced it back down your arm until it reached your hand. “hmm. now, tell me. which finger do you like the least?”

you strangled a sob. he didn’t even interrogate you yet. he was just jumping right to the torture part “please,” you barely managed to get out. 

“oh, i like the way you beg,” he remarked. 

you grit your teeth and pulled your hands away from him. “nowhere to go,” he mocked, using his knife to gesture around the small confines of the room.

“im curious. where have you been getting your intel on hassan’s location?”

you shook your head, pulling back as far away as you could from him.

he tisked. then his hand grabbed your jaw aggressively, making you whimper. his knife came up and slid down the side of your face, this time he applied pressure and you squeezed your eyes shut. the blood wept out from the trail he left and you could feel it slide down your face and drip onto your clothes. 

the man shoved your face back as he let go, flipping his knife in his hand as he watched you with fire in his eyes. “now, i’m going to give you another chance to answer. and trust me, you won’t like what happens if you don’t tell me what i want to hear.”

you opened your mouth but nothing came out. that type of information was classified, so even if you wanted to tell him—which you wouldn’t—you didn’t know. medics didn’t get the rundown of information like that.  

when he realized you weren’t going to speak, he looked you up and down. “hm. you’re not going to be of much help, huh?” he prowled you like a cat would its prey. “how about i get some use out of you before i bloody you up too much, then?”

you didn’t like the sound of that. his knife hooked under the straps of your tactical vest and in a swift movement, he cut it away. the vest fell from you and he tossed it aside to the floor. then his knife was back along the collar of your shirt. he grinned as he ripped through your longsleeved shirt, straight down the center. you silently cried as you felt the air rush to your now exposed skin. the shirt was split down the middle exposing your tank top. 

“please don't,” you pleaded. 

you felt his fingers along the neckline of your tanktop now, his knife slipping under the fabric. you closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. 

just as he was about to slide his knife down your shirt, you heard yelling and the sound of guns going off in the distance. the man stopped all movement and turned around. he clearly wasn’t expecting any sort of interruption. without another word, he exited the room to investigate, leaving you alone again. 

you caught your breath, breathing in and out exceptionally fast. you let out a loose breath and looked up at the ceiling, willing your tears to slow. the loss of his grimy fingers on your skin relieved you momentarily.

you tried to calm yourself as you heard more shouting and the firing of weapons. your legs were shaking as you sat there. you tried to use your hands to pull your shredded shirt back over yourself but it was no use. you swore in exhaustion, sinking back into the chair. 

after several minutes, it was finally silent outside the room. your body set in more unease with the silence. 

the door handle shook and the awful sound of it scraping the ground made you wince as the door opened. your eyes immediately went to the door and you kept them locked on the entrance, feeling them go wide as a large figure took up the space. 

you almost choked on your breathing, a strangled sob leaving you as you locked eyes with ghost. you began to cry in relief. in shock. in horror of what almost happened—you were convinced it was really all over for you. that this was it. 

as your body shook, ghost rushed up to you. his voice was hoarse as he said your name, trying to gain your attention. you looked up at him through hot tears and gave a halfhearted smile, your lips trembling. you had held yourself together as best as you could, but now with ghost in front of you, everything came tumbling down. his mask was covered in blood and he seemed to be out of breath.

he tilted his head to the side as he looked at you, his heart squeezing painfully at the sight. your face was bloody and your shirt had been ripped apart. a newfound sense of anger coursed through ghost. 

he pulled out his knife and you flinched, hitting the back of the chair as you created space between the two of you. he took notice but didn’t stop his movements. maybe in any other scenario, he would have tried to calm you down, letting you know he was only using the knife to free you. but just the fact that you shied away from his knife sent him into a fit of rage. he saw that the cut on your face was a long, straight line. he knew then why you were suddenly acting like his knife was the scariest thing in the world. he wished he hadn’t already killed every fucking bastard in there. he would give anything to string up whoever did this to you and give them a slow death. 

he slid the knife between your hands and cut away the rope, setting your hands free. 

you immediately grasped your wrists which had turned red and rubbed raw from the rope. ghost looked down at you, still unable to say anything. your eyes met his again and you took a moment to take him in before you sprang to your feet and wrapped your arms around him. he didn’t hesitate as he hugged you back. 

he felt you sobbing into his neck and his arms tightened around your waist. “you’re okay,” he cooed softly. “you’re safe now. i’ve got you.” his heart pounded harshly in his chest and you could feel it against you.

one of his hands slid up your back and got lost in your hair as he cradled you to his body, your frontside flesh with his, wanting you as close as he could get you. he shut his eyes for a brief moment, letting reality hit him full force. he got to you in time. you were okay. you were going to be okay. 

he sank to his knees in sharp relief with you still wrapped tightly in his grasp. he let you take what you needed from him, his presence bringing you nothing but a sense of safety. he let out a long breath of relief. 

you pulled back slightly, ashamed to look at him. “i-i’m sorry,” you muttered, your hand loosening around him. 

sensing your doubt, he clung to you tighter. “stop,” he said in a voice so soft you felt your heart pinch. “this isn’t your fault.”

you felt like he was reading your thoughts better than you were. his few words hit you harder than he could ever know. you sank back into him, letting yourself go limp as he held you. 

when you both finally separated, ghost helped you to your feet. he appraised your figure and you saw the anger behind his eyes. he moved too quickly for you to take in what he was doing. he slid his vest off and then removed his longsleeved shirt, leaving him in his black undershirt. you watched in astonishment as he pulled the shirt over your head. you slid your arms in as ghost picked up his vest and put it back on. 

your eyes traced his tattooed arm and his scent immediately filled your nose. his shirt was far too big for you, hanging down over your thighs, but you were thankful. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but you were still embarrassed to have your shirt ripped and exposed like that. you didn’t want everyone else to know what happened to you. you almost felt ashamed.

ghost clenched his fist before reaching up and running a finger over the bruise above your eyebrow. “i’m sorry i couldn't get to you sooner,” he said distractedly. 

you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “ghost, don’t. it’s not your fault either.”

he wished you had called him simon. 

before he could think more on the topic and read into your every word, he scooped you up and held you in his arms bridal style. you squealed but settled into his arms quickly. his hand rubbed soft patterns on your back as he carried you out of the building. your arms hooked around his neck, your body shaking less violently, but still shaking nonetheless. 

ghost held you closer and you felt like everything was going to be okay. you rested your head on his chest and let the tears fade out slowly. 

chapter 11 ➡

[thef1diary]

Royally Fucked | Two

— Rekindled Autonomy

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

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Juliette walked briskly through the palace halls, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Daniel walked beside her, his pace matching hers effortlessly. Behind them, a few guards trailed, managing the carefully packed luggage for their trip.

“We’ll be departing in an hour,” Daniel began, his voice calm and steady. “The flight is approximately three hours. Once we arrive, we’ll head directly to the hotel where I’ve arranged for a private suite. Security measures will be put in place at all locations we’ll be visiting.”

Juliette nodded, noting the precision in his briefing. “And the charity event?” she asked.

“It’s scheduled for tomorrow evening. Today you’ll have time to rest or attend to any other matters. I’ve coordinated with local security to ensure seamless protection throughout our stay,” Daniel replied.

Juliette sighed, feeling the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. The upcoming charity event was crucial, not just for her but for the entire kingdom. As the sole representative this year, all eyes would be on her, scrutinizing her every move. This heightened her unease about the sudden change in her routine, with Daniel replacing Oliver. If she had a few more days with Oliver, she would be at ease, having known him well. But now, with a new face and unfamiliar habits, she would have to adapt quickly to maintain her composure and fulfill her duties effectively.

As they continued walking, she couldn’t help but notice Daniel’s professional demeanor, despite her initial reservations about his cheerful personality. His efficiency and attention to detail were impressive, even in the short time she had spent with him. Though she remained cautious, she couldn’t deny his competence. For now, he had yet to make a mistake, and that gave her a small measure of reassurance.

Juliette cast a sidelong glance at Daniel. “You’re covered all bases, it seems,” she remarked.

“I aim to please, Your Highness,” Daniel responded with a bright grin.

As Juliette and Daniel made their way through the main palace doors towards the waiting convoy, she noticed the lineup of vehicles prepared for their departure. The primary car, sleek and black, awaited them at the forefront, accompanied by a second vehicle carrying additional security personnel. Behind them, a support vehicle handled their suitcases for the trip.

“Your ride awaits, Your Highness,” Daniel announced with a flair, opening the door to the primary car. With a slight bow, he ensured Juliette settled into the back seat before closing the door and taking his place behind the wheel.

As they pulled away from the palace, Juliette glanced out the window, the familiar sights of her home fading into the distance.

Daniel glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Is there anything you’d like to add to our itinerary, a place you’d like to explore?”

Juliette turned her gaze from the window to meet Daniel’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His gaze momentarily felt intrusive, especially with her mind focused on the upcoming event and little else, she felt like he could read her thoughts. She feigned thoughtful consideration of his question, lightly tapping her chin with a finger while avoiding direct eye contact.

Shaking her head gently, she replied, “not really. Let’s stick to business and back, that’s how it always is with Oliver. It’s risky going off-plan.”

She realized immediately that she hadn’t meant to compare Daniel to Oliver so directly, especially since Daniel had done nothing wrong as of yet. Glancing out the window again, she hoped her slip up hadn’t given him the wrong impression.

Daniel’s expression remained calm as he drove through the city streets, his focus on the road ahead. After a moment, he spoke, his voice gentle yet firm. “I understand your concerns, Your Royal Highness. Safety is important, but you know, I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to worry about your safety, not yours. If there’s anything you want to explore while we’re there—or anywhere—please don’t hesitate to let me know. It’s my responsibility to find a way to do it safely.”

Juliette appreciated his reassurance, though she remained conflicted. Oliver’s approach had always been cautious and predictable, which kept her secure but somewhat stifled. Daniel’s openness to spontaneity was both refreshing and unnerving. Despite his words, she still wondered how she could navigate this newfound freedom without compromising her responsibilities or endangering herself.

As they approached a red light, Daniel turned to glance at Juliette, his gaze soft and understanding. “Your safety is my priority,” he affirmed, his tone unwavering. “I’ll keep you informed every step of the way so you’re never in the dark. But if you find yourself worrying about your safety with me by your side, then I’m not doing my job properly.”

He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips as he waited for Juliette’s reaction. “And one thing you should know about me, Your Highness,” he continued, his tone lightening slightly, “I always ensure I do my job well.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips despite her best efforts to maintain a composed demeanour. As they continued their journey, Juliette found herself pondering what else she might want to do, a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself to consider before. Thoughts of exploring new places, trying different things, and perhaps even visiting a quaint cafe she’d heard about, lingered in her mind. She remained lost in these musings for the rest of the car ride, the idea of Daniel as her bodyguard slowly growing more appealing.

Finally, they reached the airstrip. Daniel exited the car first, opening her door with a polite gesture. Juliette stepped onto the tarmac, the sleek polished exterior of the private jet gleaming in the sunlight. A set of stairs extended down to meet her, each step lined with plush carpeting. As she ascended, a gentle breeze passed through her hair, giving her a sense of serene anticipation.

At the top of the stairs, the flight crew greeted her with warm smiles and respectful bows. “Welcome aboard, Your Highness,” the lead flight attendant said, her voice courteous and professional. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your flight more comfortable.”

Juliette nodded graciously, feeling a touch of royal pride mixed with appreciation for their attentive service.

Inside, the plane was the epitome of luxury and exclusivity. Soft, cream-coloured leather seats lined the cabin, each one spacious enough to recline fully. The walls were adorned with subtle, elegant accents of gold and rich wood paneling. Overhead, soft lighting cast a warm glow, creating an ambiance of comfort and refinement.

As she settled into her seat, Juliette ran her hand over the armrest, feeling the smooth, supple leather beneath her fingers. In front of her, a small table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, ready for an in-flight meal. The air was lightly scented with a delicate floral fragrance, adding to the overall sense of opulence.

Daniel had entered the cabin behind her, giving her a reassuring nod before taking his seat nearby. Juliette felt a surge of excitement and a renewed sense of freedom, one she hadn’t realized she lacked until it was offered to her. She began to appreciate the subtle yet profound difference Daniel brought to her life.

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As the plane cruised smoothly through the sky, Juliette relaxed into the plush seat, savouring the luxury around her. The soft hum of the engines and the gentle sway of the cabin created a sense of calm. She glanced over at Daniel, his attention occasionally flicking to the view outside.

The conversation flowed easily between them, and Juliette found herself more comfortable than she had anticipated. She was surprised by how Daniel’s easygoing nature seemed to balance the formality she was used to.

“You seem awfully dressed up for a flight,” she teased, her tone light. “Aren’t you going to relax a bit? The king isn’t here to see you.”

Daniel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Even though the king appointed me to you, I work for you, so you tell me, Your Highness.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “In that case, I suppose I could ask you to relax a bit. Surely, you’re not always on duty.”

Daniel's smile widened as he nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. He unbuttoned his blazer and removed it, revealing a crisp white dress shirt beneath. As he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, Juliette’s gaze was drawn to the tattoos that were unveiled—delicate designs that hinted at a story beyond the palace. As he turned, his shirt clung slightly to his back, accentuating the subtle contours of his muscles, and the shoulder gun holster strapped above his shirt was an indication of his duty as a bodyguard.

She caught herself staring, her eyes lingering on how his shirt stretched over his shoulders and down to his defined arms as he turned to face her. Daniel noticed her gaze and with a playful glint in his eye, chose to sit in the seat right next to her.

“Is there something about my attire that’s caught your attention, Your Highness?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

Juliette quickly averted her gaze, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Just…assessing the level of professionalism,” she retorted, attempting to regain her composure.

He chuckled. “Well, I must say, your scrutiny is most flattering. But if you’re hoping for a less formal look, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until night falls and we’re in our hotel room.”

Juliette faked a gasp, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “Wait, did you actually pack something other than suits for this trip?”

Daniel grinned, leaning in slightly. “You caught me. I did manage to pack a few casual pieces. But let’s keep that between us, shall we?”

Her curiosity piqued, Juliette leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So what’s the plan for these casual pieces? A secret mission off-duty?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone matching hers. “Or maybe just for a quiet night where I’m not on high alert. You didn’t expect me to wear a suit to bed did you, Your Highness?”

Juliette smiled, the playful banter easing her nerves. “Touché, but I must say, the idea of seeing you out of your formal attire is intriguing.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I will keep that in mind. Speaking of secret missions, have you decided on where you want to go?”

She nodded, causing Daniel to spark up, leaning closer as he solely focused on her next words. “Ever since you mentioned charming the guards with pastries, I’ve been craving some myself. I’ve heard there’s a quaint little café in the city that’s supposed to have the best pastries. What do you think?”

“Pastries, huh?” Daniel’s smile widened. “I think that sounds like an excellent mission. We’ll make it our first stop once we land.”

Juliette blinked, momentarily surprised that he had actually agreed so readily. Quickly, she composed herself, adopting a more regal posture. “That’ll be great, thank you, Daniel,” she said, trying to mask the underlying excitement with a tone of practiced poise.

He nodded respectfully, yet his grin was unwavering. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness. Besides, a trip to a café sounds like the perfect way to start our adventure. And I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind trying those pastries myself.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to see if they live up to their reputation,” Juliette replied, her formal demeanour softening ever so slightly. She was trying to maintain the image of a composed princess, a role she perfected over the years. Yet, with Daniel, the anticipation of the simplest pleasures were difficult to conceal entirely.

As she looked out the window, watching the clouds drift by, Juliette found herself reflecting on how different this trip felt. It wasn’t really the café that excited her, but the newfound ability to choose where she wanted to go. She hadn’t realized how much she had been missing out on the simple joys of life until now.

As a princess, she was accustomed to making decisions, but they were always governed by the pressures of maintaining an image of poise, perfection, and adherence to strict safety protocols. Over time, she had lost sight of the fact that her choices were often not truly her own. The act of making a personal decision now almost felt foreign, a habit she believed had vanished under the weight of her controlled life. Daniel’s presence, his easygoing nature, and his genuine interest in her happiness were making her see things from a new perspective and slowly rekindling a sense of autonomy she hadn’t felt for years.

Juliette felt a flutter of excitement, looking forward to not just the destination but the journey itself.

As the plane began its descent, Juliette looked out the window. The vast landscape below slowly became more defined, the daylight bathing the city in a warm glow.

Once the plane had landed and taxied to a stop smoothly, the flight crew efficiently began preparing for disembarkation. Juliette stood, smoothing her dress while Daniel buttoned up his blazer, back in bodyguard mode.

They exited the cabin, stepping onto the tarmac where a sleek black Bentley awaited them. The vehicle’s glossy finish reflected the afternoon sun, emphasizing its luxurious appearance. An attendant approached Daniel, handing over the keys with a respectful nod.

Daniel took them with a grateful smile and moved to open the back door for Juliette. Before he could, she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“I’d like to sit in the passenger seat if that’s okay,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

Daniel hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

With the flight crew quickly loading their luggage into the trunk, Juliette made her way to the front passenger seat and settled in. Daniel joined her in the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and starting the car.

When the engine roared to life, Juliette noticed Daniel’s smile, the rumble of the powerful vehicle palpable underneath them. She couldn’t help but comment on it with a smile tugging at her lips. “You seem very comfortable behind the wheel, do you like driving?”

Daniel’s grin widened, a gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. I guess you could say I've got a passion for driving. Every time I start one up, I still get tingles.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his hands deftly maneuvering the car as they pulled away from the tarmac. “I could probably drive with my eyes closed.”

She laughed softly. “I hope you don’t plan on trying that anytime soon.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Daniel replied, his tone playful. “I’ll keep my eyes wide open on duty.”

The cityscape began to unfold around them as they left the private jet behind, heading straight for the café she had mentioned. The car glided smoothly through the city streets, Daniel skillfully navigating the traffic with a blend of confidence and finesse.

Soon, they arrived at the quaint little café. Daniel parked the car smoothly, the powerful engine settling into a quiet purr before shutting off. They both stepped out, the enticing aroma of fresh pastries already wafting through the air.

Daniel conducted a quick scan of the surroundings, his professional instincts still at work. He subtly assessed the area for potential security concerns and ensured that the entrance was unobtrusive yet secure. He also mapped out any security cameras as well as any other possible threats. Once satisfied with his brief check, he glanced at Juliette, who was genuinely smiling while taking in a deep breath, savouring the moment.

When she glanced at him, he returned her smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

Juliette led the way into the café, her excitement barely contained. The interior was as charming as the exterior suggested, with cozy seating, vintage décor, and an array of pastries displayed in an inviting glass case.

As they entered, a warm greeting from the café staff welcomed them. Juliette's eyes sparkled as she scanned the menu, her attention drawn to a selection of pastries she had heard about but never tried. Daniel, maintaining his usual demeanor, stayed close, his awareness subtly tuned to the environment even amidst the relaxed atmosphere.

Juliette turned to him with a grin. “So, what’s your recommendation? I’m open to anything you think is worth trying.”

Daniel chuckled, scanning the display of tempting treats. “I’d say we start with a few of their specialties. They’ve got a reputation for their éclairs and croissants. And I hear their hot chocolate is pretty excellent too.”

Juliette nodded enthusiastically, her gaze lingering on the pastries. As they approached the counter to place their order, Juliette couldn’t help but feel a sense of liberation. For once, she was making a simple choice without the constraints of royal duties or security protocols overshadowing her every move.

Daniel, meanwhile, kept an eye on the café’s patrons and the entrances, ensuring everything remained as secure as it should. His relaxed demeanor and focused attention balanced well, allowing Juliette to enjoy the moment fully.

With their order placed, they found a cozy table by the window. As they waited, Juliette couldn’t help but glance at Daniel, noting how effortlessly he combined professionalism with a genuine interest in her enjoyment.

Their conversation flowed easily as they chatted about their favorite pastries, their personal tastes, and even some light-hearted anecdotes. Juliette felt a rare sense of ease, her usual reserve melting away in the comfort of the café and Daniel’s company.

As they shared their treats, Daniel teased with a playful smile. “I told you, a little charm and a few pastries go a long way. Might even win you some hearts.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that what you plan on doing?”

He shrugged casually, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Once they finished their pastries, Juliette and Daniel returned to the car. The drive to the hotel was smooth, and soon they were pulling up to a luxurious, historic building that exuded elegance and charm. The grand entrance was adorned with polished marble and gold accents, and the hotel’s opulent façade glowed warmly in the late afternoon light.

Daniel parked the car and stepped out first, quickly arranging for their luggage to be unloaded by the hotel staff. He then opened the door for Juliette, his professional demeanor in place but with a subtle hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Juliette took a moment to admire the grandeur of the hotel before turning to Daniel. “Thank you for a wonderful start to the trip,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation.

Daniel smiled, his eyes twinkling. “This is just the beginning, Your Highness.”

They entered the hotel together, the soft click of their footsteps echoing in the elegant lobby. The day promised new experiences, and as they approached the check-in desk, Juliette felt a rare sense of anticipation. It was a feeling she hadn’t indulged in for a long time, and it was one she was beginning to savour.

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NO TAGLIST

[acotarxreader]

Say My Name part 2

Azriel x Reader

Warnings; Angst, smut, sin city

Part 1

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The moment the door of your office closed Azriel ran down through the hallway in almost a frantic fashion. He burst through the door of his room before crashing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet from the sheer adrenaline of that moment. He couldn’t believe he did it, couldn’t believe he admitted what he did. You could have him killed for treason, killed for touching you, killed him for feeling that way about you. 

But the punishment never came, in fact, you had almost entirely avoided him for the two weeks that followed the attempted ambush, throwing yourself into your work and tasks that took you far from Velaris, Azriel undertaking his own tasks for the High Lord. 

Your next assignment had you marking the viewing points for the up-and-coming meeting between the Solar Courts. You studied the small cabin from your hilltop viewpoint, deep within the mountains of the Day and Dawn border, mentally marking all the areas of weakness in this location, despite already knowing them well. 

“Hello YN” You almost leapt from your skin turning on your feet to look at Azriel, his hands raised to chest level in a truce. 

“How do you do that?” “Shadowsinger, remember?” he gave a small laugh before you turned back to look at the cabin, he copied your action joining your side. 

“What are you even doing here, I normally work solo” “The High Lord requested I scope the area too he…he said he didn’t want a repeat of Hewn City” Azriel admitted reluctantly and you rolled your eyes. You began to walk down the hillside to reach the front of the cabin, Azriels shadows tracing the ins and outs of the small almost forgotten structure, the action making you somewhat uncomfortable. The meeting regarding a potential War about mortal rights, a very hot topic issue for all the Courts these days, was to take place here in the coming days.

“So…how’s your neck?” “That’s not what you came here to talk about” you sighed, his proximity to your side taking the chill out of the late evening air. “You’re right but I still want to make sure you’re alright” “Like I told you that night, that's not your job” “Then who’s it because I’d like to interview for the position” he gave a grin as you bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. 

“C’mon Sha-Azriel, it’s clear here I already checked it, if your little friends are happy let’s do the convoy trail again and head home” he nodded, his shadows leaping at merely being mentioned by you.

“This uprising is really starting to gain some steam” Azriel spoke quietly after a moment as you both passed along the tracks the High Lord would soon take, the wildlife hummed around the both of you. 

“Rightfully so” “I agree” You both shared a small glance, Azriels shadows darting back and forth with information on the path ahead. 

“They’re very clever aren’t they” “They say thank you” he returned your smile, the ground crunching beneath your feet, an air of comfortable silence surrounding you both. Silence. Why was it suddenly silent Azriel thought? Without fully being cognisant of his next move, Azriel crashed you into the overgrowth along the path.

“What the fuck Azriel?!” You yelped, his hand instantly covering your mouth, your brows furrowing in rage at the movements. He used his other hand to signal to you to be quiet and look out through the thick brambles covering you both. Two shrouded figures scurried along the path in front of you, Azriel gestured with his head towards their backs, long thick ash arrows hung from between their shoulder blades. You pulled his hand down from your face only to not let go of it when it reached your side. You didn’t take your gaze away from the threats and yet Azriel couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to your hand in his. 

“YN-” he began to whisper before a near-deafening shriek left his throat. You leapt to your feet and straight for the direction the arrow hand flow from, it piercing through one of Azriel’s wings. He tried to push from the ground to follow you, the sickly feeling of ash through his flesh rocking him back to the ground with a yelp, its grip beginning to overwhelm his senses. He could only watch you through the shrubs as you deflected and defended yourself so gracefully from the assailant's onslaught. Azriel threw the dagger strapped to his leg, clipping one of the offenders through his ear, a kill shot if he had been in full health. You fought against the other, snapping their bow over your knee before they got the chance to draw again. Azriel’s shadows dashed across Azriel’s near miss, confusing them enough for you to simultaneously swing your leg outward, sending them straight to the ground with a thud. You slit a blade across the other’s right knee, them joining their counterpart. You snatched up the quivers snapping the remaining arrows, careful not to be caught with a splinter. 

“Sleep” you whispered, before reaching out and touching their temples as they struggled against Azriel’s tightening shadows, sending them both into an unwelcome slumber. You ran to Azriel’s side, pulling him up onto his wobbly legs. 

“Come on Azriel, we have to get that out of you, the cabin is warded if there’s more of them, they won’t see it through the glamour” You supported his weight as you hauled him back towards the cabin, Azriel groaning in growing pain.

“Azriel, stay awake, please stay awake” You gently tapped his face while pulling him along the trail, he fought to keep his head upright, his weight pressing heavy onto you.

“Wh-what di-d you do t-o the-m are they de-ad?” he gritted out through his teeth after a moment, the cabin coming into sight again.

“No, they’ll wake and not remember where they are or who we are, they’ll only have the strong urge to go home” you reassured. 

“Yo-u’re a Daemati?” he finally managed as you waved the door of the cabin open. 

“You’re surprised?” you almost laughed at him, continuing to support his weight until you reached the bathroom of the cabin. He sat on the rim of the bath, just about able to keep from tipping into the empty porcelain. You plugged the bath behind him before turning the tap on, its old pipe work screaming into work. You leant down to retrieve towels from the cupboard, Azriel watching every movement. 

“Does-does the Night Court know?” your movement stilled as his hoarse words.

“Need to know basis Azriel” you smirked, leaving the room to fetch tinctures from the kitchen. You returned quickly, a cup of shimmering liquid in hand, you gestured for Azriel to drink and he took it happily, anything to stop the swirling headache. 

“Oh hey look at the rabbit?” you took the cup from him before you pointed towards the opposite direction from where you stood next to Azriel.

“What rab-FUCK!” Azriel’s hand gripped your shoulder with near bone-crushing force as you pulled the arrow from him.

“You're okay that's the worst of it” you reassured as he bit hard onto his lip to stop any tears before they could fall.

You supported him as he stood again, his body screamed at him as you pulled the shirt from above his head, gaining an apologetic look from you. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you loved pulling that rabbit shit” You found yourself laughing slightly at him, trying to fight off the worry in your chest. You emptied a full bottle of liquid into the bath, bubbles swelling through the tub. You somewhat awkwardly looked down at Azriels torso before your eyes landed on his still-clothed lower body. He coughed to cover his own rising embarrassment before you turned to face the wall, allowing him to fully undress and slip beneath the bubbles of the water, shielding his lower half. You turned back to him when the sound of him groaning into a comfortable position had stopped. You passed back down the mug to him, turned off the tap and then went to retrieve more salve. 

“How do you know the glamour will work, we could see the cabin?” he called to you, the sound of drawers being whipped open. 

“Because I was the one who glamoured the place”

“Oh…well you must come here often, you seem to have a good idea of the inventory?” He questioned as you returned, the water soaking his wings before he rose back up to a sitting position. “This-this was actually where I grew up, I allow the Courts to use it for important meetings” you offered, uncapping the jar, Azriel really felt he knew practically nothing about you but also like he had spent a lifetime with you already. 

“So you are a Daemtri that’s not from the Night Court that has hidden properties, any more secrets?” 

“Lots of secrets Azriel, do you have any to share with me?” you smiled half jokingly, kneeling along the edge of the bath. You coated your fingers in the salve and raised them to Azriel’s wounded wing where you hesitated. 

“I love it when you say my name” You smiled gently at his admission as you began to cover your fingers in the salve.

“Emm-aren’t your wings-do you want to-should I…” you couldn’t find the right way to phrase yourself, Azriel laughing again at the unfamiliar sight of you being flustered. 

“I’m okay with it if you are, it doesn’t mean anything” he offered, your hand then steadying its slight tremble before making contact with the wound. Azriel let out a breath of relief at the feeling of the wounded skin being soothed by the concoction. 

“The High Lord and Rhysand know about my ability, I was sent to him as a child as payment by my father for a debt-” you whispered the words out, your moonstone eyes softening at the memory “-he used to use my ability to win bets, one day he found himself in a room with the High Lord of Night and thought he wouldn’t notice if he used my abilities, Rhysand caught me” 

“That’s terrible YN” “That was my father” you half laughed again, turning to sit so your back was flush with the body of the clawfoot bath, you rolled your head to rest on the rim, Azriel slightly turning in the bath to half rest his head next to yours. 

“And the Dawn Court didn’t have anything to say about losing a Daemtri?” “My mother was from the Night Court, I was equally anyone’s to take” “So that’s why you hate Rhysand?” you scoffed at him, rolling your head to meet his hazel eyes. 

“While trying to impress his own Father, Rhysand caused the death of mine and the beginning of my life sentence to his Father…He and I had a tumultuous relationship before he went to Windhaven…and even more so when he was there, he doesn’t speak of me because a Court with two Daemtri is more powerful than one and I think-I think he regrets alerting his Father to me” you sighed at the politics, standing up again.

“That is definitely something he would regret YN” 

“Maybe so but it won't change my bargain tying me the High Lord” You ran your slightly damp hands down the front of your leathers and tried not to stare at the very beautiful and very naked Illyrian beneath the bubbles in front of you. You noticed the smirk grow across his face and realised you were staring, you began to cough to clear the awkwardness before smiling and making a quick exit, Azriel sank beneath the water again. 

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A little while later, Azriel rejoined you in the living area of the small cottage as you arranged the small dining room table for the meeting at the end of the week. Azriel now well on the way to recovery drank in his surroundings, the small bits of you and your story decorating the humble cottage. 

“Feeling better Spymaster?” you gave a small smile to him, arms folded across your chest while he surveyed his surroundings. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to ask one another that question?” he smirked, watching you uncross your arms and amble towards him.

“Whatever Spymaster” You rolled your eyes with a grin, stopping an arms reach from him. 

“I also thought we moved on from you calling me by my title” he so cautiously whispered, trying his best to not get lost in the auralescent of your moonstone eyes.

“You think a lot of things, Azriel, I-” That was it he couldn’t push it away any further, the draw of your voice taking hold of him as he closed the distance, hands wrapping around the nape of your neck, pulling you to meet his lips. Your hands caught his wrists, pushing him back from you without losing your grip on his bones. 

“Sorry I-I-” you cut across his rising panic, your brain agreeing with your heart finally as you pulled him back into the kiss, his hands tunnel through your hair to angle your head back, deepening what you had denied one another. 

Your mouth parted slightly causing him to eagerly take the invitation, his tongue conducting teasing strokes that you happily match. Your hands clutch the material of his shirt, afraid to let go of him and the movement. His hands untangle from your hair, dropping to the tops of your thighs to lift you from the ground, if ever so slightly unsteady, the ash arrow’s effects exiting his body at rapid pace. Your legs wrap around his torso, your chests clinging to one another as if your lives depend on it, both becoming more hungry in your actions. He backs the two of you backwards until the back of your legs hits the table, where he places you down gently, all without separating the tangle of teeth and tongues you had both become. Azriel rocks his hips gently against your thighs and you almost lose yourself in the mouth-watering friction. Need pulses through you both as he separated from you just long enough to slide his mouth down your jaw to connect with sweet pressure to your neck.

“Azriel” you nearly gasped out the moan of his name, it nearly sending him over the edge at the sound. He pulled from you, yanking his shirt from over his head in one swift movement before pulling your trousers from you leaving you bare on the table before him. His hand traced up your torso as you watched the painfully slow movements until he sank to his knees at the edge of the table.

You sat up on your elbows to watch him, only to have his scarred hand connect with your stomach, pushing you back flush with the table with a moan. You lay there for a moment, hoping this whole interaction wasn’t a dream, that those assailants from earlier had killed you, that you had entered the heavens with the Gods. 

The vein of thought is interrupted as your pulse nearly hits the roof, the feeling of pleasure shuddering through you, the feeling of his rough but delicate fingers entering you, massaging you as they slide to your core. You dig your nails into his bare shoulders, riding his thrusting fingers as he groans at the sight. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful YN, show me, show me more, release for me” The moan was trapped in your throat as he shot up, connecting again with your lips in ferocious desperate need for you, sending you crashing over in insurmountable pleasure. He couldn’t tear his hazel eyes from the storms of gratification swirling in yours. 

Azriel took his fingers from you and you missed them instantly. You rasped out what air you could until Azriel’s mouth stole the breath away again. He untied his trousers with your help, all without disconnecting from one another. You shuffled further to the edge of the table as the last stretch of fabric freed his thick length, you nearly going over the edge again at the feeling of him in your hands. 

Azriel practically snatched you from the table, back into his strong arms, your legs tangling around him, he backed you against the kitchen wall then, unable to mentally map his way back to the couch to take you there. He allows you to adjust for the first inch of him inside you, almost sending you both undone. 

“Fuck me like I’m yours Azriel” you whisper cautiously into the shell of his ear before nipping him gently, no further encouragement as he takes you entirely in one firm thrust and your blood heats, his breath rasping out for more of you, his movements growing in pace and vigour. 

“Mine, fucking all mine” was all he could manage but it was enough, enough to send the tightening band in your abdomen to its absolute limits. Azriel pulls from you suddenly, turning you both in the direction of the couch, where he crashed on top of you, the full weight giving him more power to reach deep within you, your hands knotting tightly into his hair, his wings splayed for balance. It’s overwhelming, all-encompassing and it's Azriel, the full picture of what was happening sending you bolting towards your second release. You forced your eyes open just in time to witness Azriel unravel and burst with what could only be described as a primal roar. He collapsed alongside you, the both of you trying to find your way back to the earth through the bone-rattling waves of pleasure. Your hand traced across your closed eyes before you burst into laughter.

“What the fuck just happened?” you managed between breaths.

“I interrupted you before you could reprimand me again I-I think” he laughed out as you pulled your tender bones upright on the couch, looking down at the flushed Illyrian, his head resting on the arm bent above his head. 

“Gods, this is bad, really bad” You shot up from your seat, grabbing your discarded clothes and dressing nearly as fast as you got undressed. Azriel watched you carefully, trying not to show his hurt as he caught the clothes you threw at him. 

“We have to go, Spymaster, they’ll be looking for us and I really don’t fancy having to explain”

“Would it be such a bad thing?” you turned to his small words as he stood, tying the last button on his trousers, your eyes softened on him as you closed the space between you.

“They can’t know. For you it would be another notch on your bedpost, they’d probably fucking celebrate you but for me, for me, they’ll call me a whore or weak or accuse me of sleeping my way to the top and shun me” “You’re not just another notch on my bedpost YN, am I to you?” his soft words saddened you, his hand tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, as he had done so carefully the night of the ambush.

“No Azriel of course not but but in this Court we’re not the same, females in my position don’t have the pleasure of being with who they want, no matter how much they want them and Azriel I do want you” You fought away the tears threatening to fall, Azriels arms rubbing your upper arm lovingly. 

“This isn’t fair” “Like I told you, this Court isn’t fair” you half laughed through your croaking voice before pulling from his grasp again.

“YN, if I’m ever in a position of power I will do all I can to make it fair”

“I know” you said with a sad smile before reaching for you coat and slipping it on. You move to Azriel again, kissing his cheek ever so carefully, the action shattering his heart as your earlier words did. 

“C’mon Spymaster, we have to get back”

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

Hehe whatcha think?

Tag @5onedirection5

[thethief1996]

9.000 palestinians were killed in 3 weeks of bombings and the USA has just approved $14bi in additional military aid for Israel, on top of the annual $3.8bi Joe Biden instituted 28 years ago. Israel has targeted an ambulance convoy near Al-Shifa hospital, which was evacuating wounded from hospitals to the Rafah crossing. Al-Shifa is already working at 164% capacity, while 25 of the 35 hospitals in the Gaza Strip have shut down due to damage from bombing and lack of fuel (if I hear another zionist talk about how good Israel is for roof knocking hospitals is I'm going to explode). They did everything Israel asked of them and still they were murdered.

Almost half of these deaths are children, and even in death they're not respected and the US president and western media outlets are casting doubt over the reported numbers, even though they cast no such doubt over the numbers reported by Israel even though there's no official list provided by the government. It's ridiculous how blatantly they are copying Holocaust denialism talking points.

Meanwhile, Israel is enjoying the fog of war to proceed with the ethnic cleasing of the West Bank. Palestinians in Masafer Yatta, that have been intimidated by the construction of settlements hounding them for years, received threats by armed civilians saying they would be killed if they didn't leave in 24h and since then settlers have burned down their homes. Bedouin villages in Hebron, whose population was already routinely brutalized by settlers from the outposts nearby, are receiving equal threats and being terrorized by the destruction of their water supplies, roadblocks and physical violence. This is the largest forced displacement in the West Bank since 1972 and it's all being committed by settlers backed by the IDF. Israeli activists said they don't even know if these settlers are acting at the government's request or if they're just terrorizing people into running away from their homes in their free time. Thousands of Gazans who worked within Israel's "green line" were being held hostage since Oct 7th and reported they were tortured and labeled with numbers around their legs. Today, they were pushed back into southern Gaza amid airstrikes.

Palestinian journalists are being targeted for live streaming their genocide. The least we can do is pay attention and take action. Gazans have said our support lifts their spirits. If nothing else, to lift their spirits.

TOMORROW, NOV 4TH, there will be a National March in Washington DC organized by 500+ orgs and expected to be the largest pro-Palestine movement in the history of the USA. If you can, please attend.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe).

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices, looking to inform yourself from the sources. Palestinians have asked of us only that we share, tweet and post, over and over. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera

Anadolu Agency

Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Al-Shabaka (twitter / instagram)

Mariam Barghouti (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Take action. You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour

HP

Puma

Sabra

Sodastream

Ahava cosmetics

Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN GERMANY: Here's a toolkit to contact your representatives by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN POLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN DENMARK: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SWEDEN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN FRANCE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN THE NETHERLANDS: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN GREECE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN NORWAY: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN ITALY: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN PORTUGAL: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SPAIN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN FINLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRIA: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN BELGIUM: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN ROMANIA: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN UKRAINE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more resources.

[churino]

Design for ultra magnus

He was a big hero but he hung up the magnus armor and retired to grow fat and happy,

Ultra magnus was a major autobot hero, idolized by all, people thought he was destined to die a hero's death so it came as a surprise when he abruptly stepped away from leading the elite guard to work his passion projects as an engenier with the wreckers, a guild of engeniers famous for their inventions being effective but blowing up all the time,

in his time away from combat, he met many autobots inspired by him, using the same magnus amor concept he used to employ, a core robot within a powered suit of armor to match the decepticons in power, but interestingly it seems like his fans can't carry all the weight of their fancy new suits alone and employ the use of headmasters to operate their suits' more esoteric functions, becoming a whole new breed of autobot, the convoy rank, each leading small teams made to fufill specific purposes, one leads all the autobots on a planet. Another leads all the autobots in a job, and so on and so forth. robots that copy the core robot, suit of armor and headmaster, set up but aren't officially reconized as convoys by the autobot goverment are called copy convoys,

The most noteworthy of these fans of his, was a young rescue bot in training named orion pax, optimistic and gentle, magnus took such a liking to him he named him as his brother on the spot, now his critics would say this kind of thing would confine orion to living in magnus' shadow as his less sucessful younger brother for the rest of his life but.. his story didn't quite turn out that way,

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

The world generates more than 68 million tons of e-waste every year, according to the UN, enough to fill a convoy of trucks stretching right around the equator. By 2030, the total is projected to reach 75 million tons.

Only 22 percent of that e-waste is collected and recycled, the UN estimates. The rest is dumped, burned, or forgotten—particularly in rich countries, where most people have no convenient way to get rid of their old Samsung Galaxy phones, Xbox controllers, and myriad other gadgets. Indeed, every year, humanity is wasting more than $60 billion worth of so-called critical metals—the ones we need not only for electronics, but also for the hardware of renewable energy, from electric vehicle (EV) batteries to wind turbines.

Millions of Americans, like me, spend their workdays on pursuits that lack any physical manifestation beyond the occasional hard-copy book or memo or report. It’s easy to forget that all these livelihoods rely on machines. And that those machines rely on metals torn from the Earth.

Consider your smartphone. Depending on the model, it can contain up to two-thirds of the elements in the periodic table, including dozens of metals. Some are familiar, like the gold and tin in its circuitry and the nickel in its microphone. Others less so: Tiny flecks of indium make the screen sensitive to the touch of a finger. Europium enhances the colors. Neodymium, dysprosium, and terbium are used to build the tiny mechanism that makes your phone vibrate.

Your phone’s battery contains cobalt, lithium, and nickel. Ditto the ones that power your rechargeable drill, Roomba, and electric toothbrush—not to mention our latest modes of transportation, ranging from plug-in scooters and e-bikes to EVs. A Tesla Model S has as much lithium as up to 10,000 smartphones.

The millions of electric cars and trucks hitting the planet’s roads every year don’t spew pollutants directly, but they’ve got a monstrous appetite for electricity, nearly two-thirds of which still comes from burning fossil fuels—about one-third from coal. Harvesting more of our energy from sunlight and wind, as crucial as that is, entails its own Faustian bargain. Capturing, transmitting, storing, and using that cleaner power requires vast numbers of new machines: wind turbines, solar panels, switching stations, power lines, and batteries large and small.

You see where this is going. Our clean energy future, this global drive to save humanity from the ever-worsening ravages of global warming, depends on critical metals. And we’ll be needing more.

In all of human history, we have extracted some 700 million tons of copper from the Earth. To meet our clean energy goals, we’ll have to mine as much again in 20-odd years. By 2050, the International Energy Agency estimates, global demand for cobalt for EVs alone will soar to five times what it was in 2022. Demand for nickel will be 10 times higher. Lithium, 15 times. “The prospect of a rapid increase in demand for critical minerals—well above anything seen previously in most cases—raises huge questions about the availability and reliability of supply,” the agency warns.

Metals are natural products, but the Earth does not relinquish them willingly. Mining conglomerates rip up forests and grasslands and deserts, blasting apart the underlying rock and soil and hauling out the remains. The ore is processed, smelted, and refined using gargantuan, energy-guzzling, pollution-spewing machines and oceans of chemicals. “Mining done wrong can leave centuries of harm,” says Aimee Boulanger, head of the Initiative for Responsible Mining Assurance, which works with companies to develop more sustainable extraction practices.

The harm is staggering. Metal mining is America’s leading toxic polluter. It has sullied the watersheds of almost half of the rivers in the American West. Chemical leaks and mining runoff foul air and water. The mines also generate mountains of hazardous waste, stored behind dams that have a terrifying tendency to fail. Torrents of poisonous sludge pouring through collapsed tailings dams have contaminated waterways in Brazil, Canada, and elsewhere and killed hundreds of people—in addition to the hundreds, possibly thousands, of miners who die in workplace accidents each year.

To get what they’re after, mining companies devour natural resources on an epic scale. They dig up some 250 tons of ore and waste rock to get just 1 ton of nickel. For copper, the ratio is double that. Just to obtain the metals inside your 4.5-ounce iPhone, 75 pounds of ore had to be pulled up, crushed, and smelted, releasing up to 100 pounds of carbon dioxide. Mining firms also suck up massive quantities of water and deploy fleets of drill rigs, trucks, diggers, and other heavy machinery that collectively belch out up to 7 percent of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions.

Metal recycling is a completely different proposition from recycling the paper and glass we toss into our home bins for pickup. It turns out that retrieving valuable raw materials sustainably from electronic products—toasters, iPhones, power cables—is a fiendishly complex endeavor, requiring many steps carried out in many places. Manufacturing those products required a multistep international supply chain. Recycling them requires a reverse supply chain almost as complicated.

Part of the problem is that our devices typically contain only a small amount of any given metal. In developing countries, though, there are lots of people willing to put in the time and effort required to recover that little bit of value—an estimated tens of thousands of e-waste scavengers in Nigeria alone. Some go door to door with pushcarts, offering to take or even buy unwanted electronics. Others, like Anwar, work the secondhand markets, buying bits of broken gear from small businesses or rescuing them from the trash. Many scavengers earn less than the international poverty wage of about $2.15 per day.

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: A quiet mission for the Spectres retrieving medicinal supplies on behalf of the Rebellion leaves Sabine and Ezra without much to do. While perusing through the Holo-Net to pass the time, Sabine receives a message from Shana Tavorri - a Fulcrum agent and Ezra's former childhood best friend - with an unexpected attachment: a questionnaire usually reserved for couples. Sabine is, predictably, annoyed by the agent's antics but Ezra becomes intrigued and convinces his best friend to participate in the questionnaire. What starts off as an innocent distraction turns into a deeper introspection on the nature of their relationship . . . and what awaits both of them in the years to come.

"Anything ping your scanners yet?" came the voice of Kanan over the comms. Sabine reached a hand out, pressing the button to reply on the Ghost's main control dashboard. She was sitting in the main pilot's seat, a rare event, necessitated by the delicate nature of their current mission. Beside her in the co-pilot's chair was Ezra, legs propped up on the console, arms crossed in a relaxed position. He glanced over at her and shook his head.

"Nothing yet, Kanan," she replied. "How are things on your end?"

"Same as it's been for the past thirty minutes," said Kanan. "Hera's trying some new search patterns. The containers containing the supplies should be around here somewhere."

"You want us to join you?" asked Ezra. "An extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt."

"No. Asteroid field is too dense for the Ghost. Hera and I are doing just fine out here in the Phantom II. You guys keep watch out there and alert us if you see anything suspicious."

Sabine sighed. More waiting, she thought. I hate that.

She caught her friend's eye and saw her own thoughts mirrored in his expression. But Ezra just answered with a simple, "Copy that. We'll be on standby."

"Thanks. Oh, and Ezra?"

"Yes?"

"Hera says to take your boots off her dashboard."

Sabine grinned. In a flash, Ezra dropped his feet to the ground, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"How did she - can they see us?" Ezra muttered. He stared out the main canopy, but only saw the same sight they'd been staring out for a while now: a floating field of asteroids and space dust. If the Phantom II was skulking out there close by, then they were hidden well.

"Hera's always had a sixth sense regarding the Ghost, goober," Sabine reminded him. "You should know that by now."

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "Right, right."

The latest mission for the Ghost crew was a relatively simple one: retrieval of medicinal supplies lost in an asteroid belt. Word had reached Rebel intelligence that a convoy of smugglers had ditched their cargo while on the run from an Imperial patrol in this area of space. They had been tasked from Rebel Command to find the missing supplies and bring them back to Atollon Base.

The asteroid field was dense, requiring quick maneuvering and a deft hand at piloting. The Ghost was too big, hence why Kanan and Hera had opted to use the Phantom II to locate the supplies. Sabine and Ezra were entrusted with command of the Ghost, hovering outside the asteroid field as back-up.

Chuckling, Sabine reached down into the knapsack by her chair and took out a data-pad. Connecting to the Holo-Net, she started to scroll through the news page trying to glean information from the thousands of articles regarding the Empire's current movements . . .

Her data-pad chirped. A notification popped on-screen: she had been sent a message. Tapping the pop-up, she frowned at the messenger ID, feeling a slight twist in her stomach at the name.

Shana Tavorri. A Fulcrum agent, and former childhood best friend to Ezra. Their last meeting had left Sabine with mixed feelings, unsure whether to call the young woman a friend . . . or a rival.

With a heady sense of dread, Sabine opened the message.

Have you told him yet? If not, maybe this will help get you started.

That was the whole message. But there was an attachment . . .

Sabine opened it. Immediately, a female voice blared out from the data-pad's speakers.

"Hello, young lovers! It is I, your esteemed love specialist, Dr. Eros. Are you feeling like the spark has died in your relationship lately? Then worry no more! I've concocted a series of questions - "

Sabine threw the data-pad onto the ground. The voice squawked and died out.

Ezra jerked in his seat at the commotion. "What the kriff was that about?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Sabine rubbed at her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She could imagine Shana's face, giggling at her discomfort.

Beside her, Ezra gingerly picked up the data-pad and scrolled through the message's contents. He looked back up at Sabine, a bemused smile on his face. "Interesting reading material," he said, a casual slant to his tone.

"Don't start," Sabine warned him. "Your friend Shana has an odd sense of humor."

"She does," he admitted. "What is she talking about, by the way? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Her heart flew into overdrive. She snatched the data-pad from his hands. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," she snapped.

Ezra's hands flew up in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. I won't ask, if it's something secret between you two."

An awkward silence descended between them both. Sabine grimaced, feeling a slight sense of shame at her actions. Things between her and Ezra remained . . . uneasy since his incident with the Sith Holocron. They had agreed to start patching things up since then, but it was not easy navigating through the complicated feelings that had sprouted up.

Not looking at him, Sabine spoke up to break the tension. "Sorry."

Ezra shrugged. "No harm done. You want to try it?"

"Try . . . what? The message from Shana?"

"Yeah," said Ezra. "Looks like she sent a questionnaire of some sort. Could be interesting. And we have nothing better to do in the meantime."

Now she turned to look at him, feeling incredulous. "Ezra, you know it's a questionnaire made for couples, right?"

"Right."

"We're not a couple," she pointed out.

"Also correct," he replied. "But what does it matter? We're bored, and I miss talking to you."

Ah. I'm not the only one who has been struggling lately, she realized.

Ezra looked at her, his bright blue eyes so earnest and sincere . . . Sabine couldn't resist. Despite her misgivings, she felt a smile forming.

"Alright," she relented, handing over the data-pad. "Let's give it a whirl."

Ezra beamed at her, clapping his hands in excitement. He downloaded Shana's message attachment into the Ghost's main console and, once it finished, the ghostly blue holo-image of a female Twi'lek, adorned in a professional doctor's outfit, appeared from the holo-projector.

"Greetings, young lovers," said the holographic Twi'lek in a syrupy sweet tone. "I am, as you know, Dr. Eros, love doctor extraordinaire. I've written many acclaimed books on the subject of relationships and am now here to juice up your ailing love life with a series of specially honed questions to probe the depths of your feelings towards each other!"

Sabine gagged. Ezra snorted at her reaction.

"If you're both ready, let us begin the questions!"

Ezra glanced at her, a lop-sided grin on his face. Pressing a button to pause the holo-recording, he asked, "Still want to continue?"

"Can I get a bucket to puke into?"

He laughed and resumed play with a quick button press on the console.

Question 1: What do you think I'm hiding?

Sabine leaned back in her seat, thinking. The holo-recording froze, putting itself on an automatic pause for the participants to answer each other. Ezra gazed at her and asked, "Guess I should go first?"

She gestured at him to do so. "Go ahead, goober."

He squinted at her hard. Sabine felt beads of sweat begin to form on her forehead. Ezra was already perceptive before his Jedi training took effect, sometimes annoyingly so, but as his abilities increased in the Force, he had gained an uncanny ability to guess what others were thinking or feeling. Kanan had the same ability, despite his recent blindness.

"Any day now," Sabine said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her best friend crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "Honestly, my thoughts on this question haven't changed since we first met."

"Oh? How so?"

"I think you hide your feelings, Sabine. Despite your rebellious, devil-may-care exterior, I know you care deeply about people. It's a part of you I admire immensely, and I wish you were more open about it."

Sabine was quiet, absorbing all this. "I - look, most of us in this fight care about people," she replied, feeling a blush heat up her cheeks from Ezra's compliment. "I don't think I'm unique."

"You're unique to me," Ezra countered. "After all you've been through, I wouldn't lay blame if you turned away from it all and just focused on surviving for yourself. Instead, you continue to care. That is remarkable, in a galaxy that can be cold and uncaring at times."

"I did do that though," Sabine pointed out. "With Ketsu, after I ran away from the Imperial Academy."

"For a short time," Ezra replied. "And then you chose a better path. And, later on, you helped Ketsu to choose better, too. Even after what she did to you."

Sabine looked away, scratching at her cheek in a sheepish manner. "Yeah, well, when you put it that way . . . I guess it sounds pretty good."

"It is good, Sabine," insisted Ezra. "I just want you to show everyone else what I see all the time."

She could not meet his intense stare and settled for just looking down at her lap. "Yeah, okay. I should open up some more. I got it," she said quietly.

"Okay, well." Ezra's tone suddenly turned awkward, as if he realized that he had perhaps been too intense with his positivity. "I guess, uh - I guess it's your turn. What do you think I'm hiding?"

She thought about it some more and then came up with her answer.

"Guilt," she said.

Her best friend didn't say anything. She chanced a peek at his face and saw only an inquisitive look. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Sabine blew out an anxious breath. "Well, first of all: guilt that you've been hiding for a while that you actually don't like the haircut that I gave you."

Ezra's jaw dropped open. She arched an eyebrow at him. "What? You didn't think I would notice?"

In a reflexive motion, Ezra reached out to brush his hand across his scalp, the hair still brutally short after Sabine's handiwork. "Look," he admitted, "it's not that I don't appreciate it, but I distinctly remember telling you to make it shorter. Not short."

She crossed her arms. "There's a difference?"

"Yes, there's a difference," he stressed. "I didn't want a buzz-cut!"

Sabine shrugged. "Then you should have said so, goober."

"Also, it's hasn't been growing back like it should," he said. "Did you do something else while you were busy shaving away at my scalp?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should have gone for the eyebrows also while I was at it. Then you would have something legitimate to complain about."

Ezra's cheeks heated up, his mouth opening to make some sort of scathing retort - and then he closed it shut. Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're messing with me."

Sabine stuck her tongue out at him. "Too easy."

"You're not going to take this seriously?" he demanded. "I gave you a serious answer."

"So did I," she retorted. "I was just getting started. Let me finish."

"Okay, well go ahead!"

"You're still feeling guilty over what happened with Ahsoka! And with your family, and with Kanan's injury, and getting reckless causing everyone around you to worry, and with every other bad thing that has happened to the people you care about!"

That shut him up. "I don't - we talked about this," he said, confused.

"So? Nothing was fixed, Ezra. We talked about it once. Doesn't make everything right."

Sabine leaned forward. "I can still see the guilt eating away at you. You've got to stop."

Her best friend's face smoothed into an expressionless mask. "And how I am supposed to feel about any of that?" he asked quietly. "Because it doesn't make sense to not feel somewhat responsible. I was there. I could have done something. And what I did afterwards made the situation worse than it already was!"

"Yeah, you did do something. And it pushed you to a scary place, mentally and emotionally."

"I know it was wrong! You've made that point already. I almost lost myself in the ordeal - and, even worse, I damaged our friendship. How much worse do you want me to feel about it, Sabine?"

She shook her head. "That's the point, goober. I don't want you to feel bad about it - any of it. You need to let it all go. I understand, really, I do, why you are so guilt-ridden. But you can't help everyone, Ezra. You can't save everyone, even as a Jedi Knight. Trying to do so, as you found out, will tear you apart. So, stop feeling guilty and move on."

That caught him off-guard. "I - what? You want me to move on?"

"Yes," Sabine said patiently. "Forgive yourself. You made a mistake. You learned from it. At least, I hope you did. Everyone else has already forgiven you and moved on."

He gazed at her. "Even you?"

She matched his stare. "Yes."

"Why? I think I hurt you the most."

Sabine considered her answer carefully. They were veering awfully close to emotional territory that she was not ready to tread . . . yet.

Thanks for the message, Shana, she thought sourly. Fun, fun, fun.

In the end, all she said was: "That's not one of the questions on the list, I believe. Which means I don't have to answer."

Ezra's stare became baffled. "You're kidding."

In response, Sabine reached out to the console and pressed play. "Next question."

Question 2: What do you think is my favorite part of my body?

The recording paused once more.

"I'll go first," Sabine announced, ignoring the exasperated look on Ezra's face. "I think the part of your body you favor most is your mouth, actually."

Mine too, came a heated thought, unbidden. She immediately shoved it back towards the dark corner of her mind that it came from.

Ezra's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Really? And what makes you say that?"

Her answer seemed to ease him out of his earlier mood, and she let loose a tiny sigh of relief. "Other than the fact that you're a natural born yapper? You love talking to people, Ezra."

He snorted. "Gee, thanks. You give the best compliments."

"You're welcome," she responded sweetly. "Also, you're a Jedi. You guys love to solve things diplomatically, I've heard."

"A Jedi only raises their weapon in defense," Ezra replied, the often-quoted mantra repeated to him via Kanan countless times. "Yes. Violence is a last resort, and the worst possible outcome to any Jedi."

"Yeah, but more than that . . ." Sabine scrunched up her face, trying to finish her statement. "More than that, you just know how to talk to people, at their level. You make everyone you meet feel welcome and seen and understood. That's a rare talent."

Ezra shrugged. "It's a Jedi thing, I imagine."

Sabine shook her head. "No," she corrected. "It's an Ezra Bridger thing."

He smiled at her. "I liked that compliment better than your earlier one."

"Just stating a fact, goober. Anyone with working ears and eyes knows that to be true about you."

Ezra nodded. "My turn now, I think."

"Sure. Go ahead and tell me."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your hands, obviously. Not a hard guess that they're your favorite part about yourself."

Sabine beamed at him. "Not bad."

"Like I said, it was an obvious guess. You do everything with them. But I think your mind is the actual answer."

Sabine's smile grew wider. "I'm impressed."

He gave her a mock bow. "I aim to please."

His face turned serious. "You're fiercely intelligent, Sabine. One of the cleverest people I've ever met. Not just in technological aptitude, but in how you handle situations. 'The skill of a person's hands does not matter, if the mind controlling them is inept.'"

Sabine kept her face impassive, but felt her insides turn to quivering jelly at his professed admiration of her abilities. Why the kriff are you so good at making me feel this way, Ezra Bridger?

She coughed loudly to hide the crimson flush spreading across her cheeks. "Let's, uh, get to the next question, shall we?"

"Sure," Ezra replied, grinning.

Question 3: What is something you would never give up?

"My armor," Sabine said instantly. "No doubt about it."

Ezra nodded in agreement. "If we're talking about material objects, I guess my collection of helmets would be my choice."

She blinked at him in surprise. "The ones I painted for you?"

"Yeah."

Sabine pointed at his lightsaber, hanging off his belt from its clip. "What about your lightsaber? I hear Kanan preach all the time about it being - "

Ezra smirked and said in an impersonation of Kanan's voice, "The weapon of a Jedi is their life, Ezra. You must not lose it, ever."

"Well. Yeah. Isn't it important?"

"It is," Ezra confessed. "But I can always build another one. As a reminder, this is my second lightsaber."

"Okay, so what makes the helmet collection more important than a Jedi's weapon?" Sabine asked, curious.

Ezra sat back; eyes lost in thought. Sabine waited for him to give his answer.

"I started it when I was young, and by myself," he said quietly. "After my parents . . . well, you know."

She nodded, not saying anything. Ezra's parents had died not too long ago, after an escape attempt from an Imperial prison had led to the successful release of all the prisoners held there - except for themselves. They had been listening to Ezra's broadcast across the galaxy, urging for those oppressed under Imperial rule to fight back.

Ezra's words had been the last thing they heard before their death. Sabine couldn't imagine what her best friend had felt upon discovering this.

"It was a way of distracting myself; keeping my mind from dwelling on the situation I was in. The loneliness I felt was sort of kept at bay whenever I scored another helmet. Every time I scored another one, it felt like I was hurting the Empire, silly as it sounds. It wasn't a fun hobby, but it kept me going. It wasn't much, but it was all I had."

His gaze fell to hers, his blue eyes focusing on her brown ones. "And then I met everyone here. You guys added to the collection. Zeb, Kanan, Hera - and then you. You made them special. You made them my own, with your wonderful painting. Turned the helmets from symbols of tyranny into works of art. Something I could be proud of owning - and, maybe, someday leaving behind."

Sabine's gaze turned watery. She swiped a hand across her face, clearing it of the tears falling down her cheeks.

"You had to make it personal," she muttered. "I feel like my answer sucks in comparison."

Ezra laughed. "Your armor is an heirloom, Sabine. It's very important to you. And this isn't a contest, you know."

"Yeah, but my armor is mine. I don't share it with anyone else. What you just said about your helmet collection . . . it wasn't about you, Ezra. It was about everyone that added to it, made it grow, made it unique."

He cocked his head at her. "Your armor is the same way, isn't it? Forged by the history of your clan, and all those who came before you?"

"Forged through bloodshed and war," she responded bitterly. "That's not a history to be proud of. Your helmet collection is a work of love. It's not the same."

Ezra was silent for a few moments. Then, he said sincerely, "I love the designs you put on your armor, Sabine. They're beautiful."

She crossed her arms, feeling that irritating sense of vulnerability whenever they talked like this. "I did it an attempt to make it something more than what it originally represented."

"You put a lot of effort into them, I know. I've seen you work late at night, maintaining the colors."

"What's your point, Ezra? What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying it's a labor of love. Just like my collection is. You don't color inside the lines. You don't want to be the same as your ancestors from the past, I get it. That armor doesn't have to define you, Sabine. You spend so much time fretting over making it something more, but I don't think you realize that it's not the armor that matters most."

Sabine stared at him. "Then what does?" she whispered.

He leaned forward. "The person wearing the armor."

Ezra poked her lightly in the chest. "You, Sabine Wren, are what matters most. The armor may be your past, but it does not decide your future. You do."

Her vision started to get blurry again. Sabine swiveled the pilot's chair away for a moment, wiping furiously at her eyes.

"Let's move on to the next question," Ezra suggested gently.

Question 4: What do you miss most about us?

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment.

"It was simpler, somehow, when we first started as friends," Ezra pointed out. "I guess that's what I miss the most. The ease of knowing where we stood with each other, and . . . just being able to talk about anything."

Sabine reached out and grabbed his hand. "We'll get back there, goober. I promise."

He nodded, his eyes misting over with tears. Inwardly, Sabine felt a tiny sense of satisfaction. Good, she thought. Someone else's turn to cry today.

"I really messed things up, Sabine. I know you just told me not to feel guilty about it, but I can't shake this feeling like we can't fix this," he said miserably.

"We can absolutely fix this," replied Sabine. "Look - you can feel bad about it for five minutes, okay? Five minutes, and then you move on with your day."

He let out a shaky laugh. "It's that easy, huh?"

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Easier with a friend."

Question 5: What is your favorite food?

"Thank the Force," Ezra said, relieved. "An easy one."

"Spice-infused noodles in meat broth," Sabine answered instantly, on his behalf. "Paired with a fizzy lime-twist drink. For dessert, slices of ripe meiloorun and hot chocolate."

"Wow." Ezra applauded her, grinning as he did. "Outstanding. You are well-schooled in the topic of Ezra Bridger."

Sabine blushed. "I just pay attention, that's all."

She pointed at him. "And now it's your turn, I believe. Go on - what's my favorite food, Ezra?"

"Uh," he said. "Meat?"

Sabine narrowed her eyes at him. "Meat? That's all?"

Looking lost, he added pitifully, "Cooked meat?"

She punched him in the arm. "Ezra! Are you serious?"

"You eat by yourself all the time in your room! I don't have x-ray vision, you know!"

Sabine threw up her hands in annoyance. "Whatever. Next question!"

Question 6: Who wears the pants in your relationship?

Sabine stared at Ezra, who was sweating slightly.

"Go on, goober," she challenged. "Who do you think it is?"

Rubbing at his arm and wincing, Ezra replied quietly, "You."

She leaned forward and patted his cheek affectionately.

"That's right," she said cheerfully.

Ezra gave her a shaky smile in return. She leaned over and pressed the button for the recording to resume playing.

Question 7: If we never meet again, what would you want to take away from us meeting?

Sabine frowned. "Next question," she said.

Ezra looked taken aback. "You don't want to answer this one?"

"No," she said firmly. "It's a stupid question."

Ezra let out a deep sigh. "And why is that, Sabine?"

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Because you're not going anywhere. The question is presumptive."

"Nothing is certain," Ezra pointed out. "We're at war. None of us can guarantee the future."

"It won't come to that," Sabine insisted. "I'm guaranteeing that, on my honor."

"Sabine . . ."

She slammed a fist on the console. "No, Ezra! No compromises with the Empire, or the Rebellion. If either of them comes asking for you, they're going to get my blaster as a response."

He looked at her with a small, sad smile. "Can I give you my answer?"

"No."

Ezra snorted. "Too bad. I'm going to give it anyway."

As he leaned forward, Sabine fought the urge to look away. She forced herself to meet his bright blue eyes.

"If - if, mind you - should the event come to pass where we part ways, I want you take away from our friendship that . . . well, it means the galaxy to me. The Force works in mysterious ways, but I'm fortunate that it led me to meet everyone on the Ghost. Especially you. Our friendship is one of the best gifts I could ever hope to receive in this life. And I wouldn't exchange it for anything."

Sabine's face twisted in grief. "Then why won't you fight for your life? Why are you so accepting of an end that is yet to come?"

"I'm not. Of course, I'm going to fight with every last breath in my body: for you, for Kanan, for Hera, for Zeb, for Chopper - for everybody!" Ezra's blazed with passion; with surety of himself and what he stood for. "The Empire will never rob me of that need to fight back for what I care about."

"It doesn't scare you?" she asked. "The idea of dying?"

"It does scare me, Sabine. It's not that I'm bigger than the fear, but that I don't want it to consume me. I have to choose hope - that one day, we'll see the end of this war and live to brighter days. And if that doesn't happen . . . I have to hope that the place I make my final stand in, I can make a difference. No matter how small it may be."

Sabine's arms crossed over her stomach; it felt like she was trying to keep everything important inside her from spilling out. "You're never small to me, Ezra Bridger," she said firmly.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes melancholy. "But I'm just one spark, among so many lights. The fight needs to go on without me. And I'll be counting on you to do that."

One spark, among so many. His words echoed inside her, ripping open a hollow space that ached with the pang of future loss. Her loss.

Of him.

Ezra thought that if his spark went out, others would fill it. That the combined light of the Rebellion would illuminate the space he had been in.

Sabine did not accept that, she realized. She would always be aware of the void he once occupied. It would loom large and terrifying, like a black hole. It would gobble up everything around it, warping time and space - crying out endlessly to be filled.

Something shifted in her thoughts and a realization struck her sharply.

I'm in love with you.

Hiding it would be difficult, she knew. Sabine decided to take her own advice - she would allow herself to acknowledge her feelings, to feel them fully, for at least five minutes every day.

Then she would gently bury them until the next day. And so on. Go back to maintaining the friendship she held so dear between them both.

The complicated feelings that had tangled in her mind for a long time finally resolved themselves into a crystal-clear picture. But it was not a cathartic release; it was not a joyous revelation.

Sabine Wren was not a gracious loser. And if the galaxy was her competition for Ezra Bridger, then so be it.

The comms crackled to life from the Ghost's main console. "Look alive, you two," said Kanan's voice. Ezra and Sabine jerked slightly in their seats, suddenly remembering their surroundings. "We've located the medicinal supplies and will be bringing them out shortly."

Ezra's arm snaked out to press the button for a reply. "Copy that, Kanan. We'll be ready."

Sabine shut down the holo-recording and began maneuvering the Ghost into position for the incoming cargo.

From beside her, Ezra asked quietly, "I don't suppose I'll be hearing your answer any time soon?"

She paused, taking the time to consider a reply.

Finally, she shook her head. "I'll give you my answer someday, Ezra."

He gazed at her softly for a moment, then said, "Okay. I trust that you'll do the right thing, Sabine."

She smiled at him in a reassuring way. But, deep down inside, her answer burned in the furnace that stood in place of her heart.

If the galaxy tries to take you from me, Ezra, then the galaxy will lose.

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 15 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14, pt. 15

AN: plot at the start and fluffy hurt/comfort at the end.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “Cartel Protection” and "Close Air" missions from the mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <;3 Word count: 2.1k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, death etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags)

✧˚ · .

Ghost makes it across the ledge behind you and hauls you to your feet. You’re in a daze as you follow Soap and Alejandro over the rocks. Bullets ping and whir but your sole focus is the back of Soap and Alejandro. There’s no cover to pause and return fire, your only choice is to run and hope they miss. 

Suddenly Alejandro stops.

“You’ve led us to a dead end mate!” Ghost yells from behind you and you flinch, looking up. Beyond the ledge is a sheer drop which leads down to a narrow gorge. 

“We jump from here!” The colonel calls back and you freeze, “Don’t loose your weapons!”

Your feet have become one with the stone beneath them as Alejandro and Soap jump from the edge. Ghost tugs at your arm and you turn to meet his gave with wide eyes.

“It’s jump or die, Sergeant.” He says sternly but not unkindly, pushing you forwards as the bullet spray nears. 

You gulp, grasping his hand tightly on instinct as your chest constricts painfully. 

“Together?” You ask, knowing you’ll have to jump sooner rather than later regardless of his answer.

“Together.” He confirms, tugging your forwards and stepping from the cliff.

✧˚ · .

The water is a shock. It isn’t too cold but the impact is jarring. It streams up your nose and you resist the urge to gasp, struggling against the weight of your gear to paddle to the top. A hand wraps around your tactical vest and yanks you to the surface.

“Move down river to the bridge!” Alejandro calls, muffled by the water as you emerge. “Use the rocks for cover!”

Pushing back the memories that cling to you alongside the water, you focus on the burn in your shoulders as you pull yourself through the water. 

“All stations, this is Victor-0-1. How copy?” Alejandro calls over the comms, buzzing in your ear.

“–dow-1! Do you–? –ay again. –o you’re–?”

A distinctly American drawl answers, static crackling and cutting him off.

“Radio’s picking up something.” Soap confirms from in front of you.

Ghost is beside you now, pulling through the water with more strength than you. “Sounds American.”

“Could be Graves?” You ask, arms burning as you push to keep up. “The PMCs Shepherd hired?”

“Sounds like it,” Soap nods back at you, finding a rock and pulling himself up against it as the water splashes and sprays; the gunfire picking back up. 

The army hides in the trees along the bank and you rest your gun on a flat rock in front of you, scoping them out amongst the treeline. There’s too many to take out at once but together you manage to clear enough hostiles to give you time to make way upstream. It becomes almost a game. Take cover behind a group of rocks, return fire, dive below and swim upstream to the next set of rocks before pausing again and firing. 

You round the bend and eventually the bridge comes into view. Armoured vehicles are parked in a convoy, on the offensive.

“Armoured vehicles on the bridge!” Ghost calls over the radio, an unspoken question in his voice. Are they friendly?

“They’re not ours!” Alejandro swears, clambering up to settle behind another rock. “Fuck! It’s the army.”

Bullets fly from the bridge, they have a clear vantage point and armour to cover. 

“We can’t do shite against their armour!” Soap calls out to Alejandro who has his back to the rocks, reloading.

“We have to hold here to get extraction!” He replies, popping out and sending a barrage of bullets in their direction.

Suddenly the radio crackles to life, the American accent clearer than ever. 

“This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!”

“Thank fuck.” You breath, holding your fire.

“Who the hell is that?.” Alejandro asks, turning to you and Ghost, mistrust in his gaze.

“Commander Graves,” Ghost replies, “Shadow Company. They’re with us.”

The rocks beneath you shake and bridge explodes. Flaming bits of debris splashing into the water below. 

“Shadow-1,” Ghost grips his radio, when the screeching of metal lessens, “Bravo 0-7, Good shots! Fire for effect!”

Soap lets out a boyish “whoop!” As the last bit of the bridge crumbles into the river. He’s arguably smartest out of all of you to be a demo-expert but at the end of the day still just a guy who enjoys blowing shit up.

“All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear.”

✧˚ · .

You make it to extraction, sopping wet but pumping full of adrenaline. Grave’s sends coordinates – a hit on Hassan nearby – and you slip into the back seat with Ghost as Alejandro slides behind the wheel, Soap in the passenger seat. The radio buzzes as you pull up to another compound, not unlike the last.

“Ghost this is Shadow-1, orbiting the compound now. Standing by for visual.”

Ghost grips his radio, the vehicle pulling to a rolling stop next to a shed and some barrels. “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. We’ll make our location with IR laser, over.”

With a “roger” from Graves, you pile out of the car, guns raised.

“How do we find Hassan?” Soap asks the question that’s been balancing on the tip of your tongue. 

“He’ll have an armed guard, cartel protection.” Alejandro replies, heading off towards the scattered buildings. 

Ghost radios off the information to Graves and the party begins. 

✧˚ · .

It’s not often you’re able to work with the kind of firepower Graves and his men employ. National incidents are always a risk and a shit-ton of redcap to prevent them. 

PMCs don’t have those kinds of parameters. 

Within ten minutes the compound is set ablaze. It’s a mess but a well orchestrated one. Ghost holds comms with Graves and soon you’re leading Hassan in cuffs towards an armoured car.

“I am a Quds force Major! You have no right–!”

–“Shut the fuck up!” Soap interrupts, ramming him into the side of the vehicle as you open the door.

“You will pay dearly for this!” The Major growls and spits in your face and you flinch away with a scowl.

“Ok fuckass.” You call back, giving the door a hefty slam once Soap slides in beside him. Ghost rounds the car and sits on the other side as Alejandro greets Rodolfo with a grin. 

You’re left with the back to yourself and sit with your gun between your legs, eyes sharp and alert as they follow the landscape that flies through the back window. 

It’s dark by the time the convoy rolls to a stop beside Graves and his crew. The trucks converge on a centre point, headlights creating a bastardised spotlight where Alejandro forces Hassan to his knees. 

You stand beside to your Lieutenant, just out of view of the scuffed laptop Graves has set up to stream a visual to Laswell and Shepherd.

“You know we can’t hold him.” You murmur to Ghost who leans down, ear tilted towards you. 

He nods with a sigh, readjusting his grip on his rifle, “Shepherd and Laswell know that.”

“I know they know that –“ You gesture at the man who is currently taunting Hassan, a grin on his lips, –“but does Graves?”

The discussion becomes heated and Graves picks up the laptop before slamming is back down on the bonnet of the truck. 

“Actual, let me finish this.” He sounds like a schoolboy, eager to please his father.

“There’s nothing I would like more,” Shepherd drawls through the grainy screen, “But Laswell’s right. Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us.”

Soap lets out a frustrated growl, joining Graves by the laptop. “He’s right here, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am, son.”

Ghost moves besides you and your eyes catch something reflecting in hands. You grab the phone from your Lieutenant and step forwards with a frown.

“Did we get anything from his phone?”

“Affirmative. We got a hit.” She says, eyes narrowed as smoke swirls around her, Illuminated in the blue glow of her laptop.

“Good.” Shepherd responds, “Now take him back and let him go.”

✧˚ · .

It’s past midnight when you roll into base. It feels like a failure, having to let the Major loose and the men stumble from the trucks into the barracks without the usual banter of a successful mission. 

As one of the few countries with women in the Special Forces, the base at Las Almas has a seperate wing – albeit small and unkept. The shower teeters between boiling hot and freezing cold but by the end you manage to pull the tangles from your hair. If you were allowed sweatpants while on missions you’d have pulled them on but instead you settle for a pair of grey cargos and a long-sleeve black shirt. 

Stuffing a couple of teabags into your pocket, you let your door click shut behind you and step cautiously into the hallway. 

“Rags?” 

You freeze at the voice of your Lieutenant. You turn to face him and he tilts his head, surveying you. 

“Where’re you headin’?”

You fumble with your pocket, pulling out the crumpled tea to show him. 

“A kitchen? And maybe a kettle.”

Ghost huffs out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He unfurls his palm towards you and you step closer to have a look at what he holds. Two camomile teabags sit perfectly in his hand; it’s as though he’s ironed them.

The kitchen isn’t far and he leads you inside, holding the door open as you pass. It’s warmly lit and smells of tobacco. A couple of glasses sir on the table alongside a deck of cards.

“Soap and Alejandro.” Ghost comments as he notices you inspecting the remnants of the game. “You just missed ‘em.”

You nod and come to stand beside him, arms crossed as you watch the kettle boil. A pale hand brushes your cheek and you meet Ghosts eyes in surprise.

“What’s this?’

You raise a hand and trace the cut lightly with your finger. His hand remains. “A rock or something, I think – not sure.”

He watches you carefully, as usual saying more with his eyes than he does with his mouth. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Hm?” 

He drops his hand from your cheek to the base of your neck where it meets your shoulder. You hesitantly meet his gaze.

“Rodriguez. It wasn’t your fault.” His eyes are soft and warm and full of understanding. 

It makes the beast of guilt inside you squirm and rear its head. You pull a lip between your teeth and hope it disguises the wobble that’s started. But you eyes sting all the same and you will the moisture gathering there to dissolve before he sees.

A thumb swipes across your cheekbone, however, and catches a tear you hadn’t realised escaped. He’s standing close to you now and you feel exhaustion surge like a wave.  Without thinking, your forehead drops forwards and thumps softly against his clavicle. You sniff, too tired to register the professional boundary that you may have just crossed but wasn’t that bridge burned long ago? 

A hand settles gently in your hair and you suck in a shaky breath, tears staining his navy shirt. He smells like deodorant and a hint of camomile lingers on the hand which cups the back of your head.

“I know it isn’t.” You say finally, sniffing again. “But it feels like it is.”

You pull away from him and his hand falls to rest on your shoulder.

“I had to push him off.” You swallow thickly, searching his eyes for something, anything, that will alleviate your pain. “I had to shove his body off the fucking cliff.”

Ghosts eyes mirror your own. “I know.”

You step away, shaking your head, and reach for the kettle,  needing something to occupy yourself with under his piercing gaze. 

“I know I didn’t pull the trigger. I know it could’ve been any of us but why him. Why there?” You’ve started crying again and tears run down your cheeks in streams. Your voice cracks. “Where he used to play as a child.”

Strong arms wrap around you as the world blurs; a large hand rubbing firm circles on your back as you gasp. “I know.” He whispers, chin settling on the crown of your head.

“It isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t.” He agrees. “It never is.”

“Why.” You demand, knowing how illogical and stupid the question sounds. But instead of laughing, the lieutenant presses his lips into your hair.

“I don’t know.”

✧˚ · .

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[romancingromanoff]

Hi there, your stories are amazing, I really love them, I was wondering if you could do a margaery tyrell x F targaryen reader, where the reader is the sister of daenerys, and she also has a personality like her badass ancestor visenya instead of being ladylike

Sorry this took so long but I had a lot of fun with this request. It made me realize how much I miss writing for GoT and Margaery. I made our reader similar to Visenya in the sense that they share a love for combat and have tenacious spirits, but she isn't a complete carbon copy of her ancestor and lacks more of the diplomatic skill/finesse she was also known for. I hope you enjoy and thank you!

Daenerys was finally on the throne. You had already left Essos with a massive force the world had not seen in centuries with the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and three full grown dragons at your sister’s command. With the additional support from the Tyrells, the Dornish, and the Greyjoys, Cersei Lannister stood absolutely no chance. As Dany rode on Drogon and you rode Viserion, the sky over King’s Landing and the Red Keep instantly darkened.

The smallfolk and many of Cersei’s supporters had already begun to turn on her after the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor. Luckily, Margaery Tyrell and a few others had been able to escape thanks to her sharp wits and quick thinking, while the High Sparrow and the majority of his followers had perished in the explosion. Poor King Tommen, who was under the impression that his wife had been killed, had taken his own life soon after by jumping from the Red Keep. As your army surrounded King’s Landing, the City Watch peacefully surrendered before any blood needed to be shed and your forces quickly closed in on the queen. There were a few loyal members of the Kingsguard that were willing to put down their lives for their queen, the most notable among them being the Kingslayer himself, however, they could only delay the inevitable.

Your father’s murderer was swiftly stabbed in the back by Grey Worm, killed the exact same way he had betrayed his king. Every part of you envied your friend for being the one to end the Kingslayer’s life. You were told that Cersei broke down upon watching her brother and lover die protecting her. She had poison on hand which she planned to use on herself but wasn’t quick enough to evade capture. No, she would not get a swift death. Dany had her presented to the entire city and lit her up with Drogon’s dragon fire in the tradition of your ancestors. She died screaming for mercy while the crowds cheered, the tyrant queen was finally gone.

Unfortunately, there had been very little time to celebrate your victory before a convoy from the North traveled down with news of an ancient threat that sought to wipe out all of humanity. 

Neither you or Dany believed that the White Walkers actually existed until you flew north of the wall yourselves to witness the army of the dead with your own eyes. You immediately summoned dragon fire to try and destroy whatever portions of the army you could, but then Viserion and you had nearly been killed in the attack when an unimaginably deadly spear made of ice had been launched in your direction by the Night King himself. Viserion dove quickly and turned his body so that you wouldn’t be hit but part of his left wing was snagged and soon the two of you were falling out of the sky. Your dragon was able to soften the landing for you as best as he could but the impact was still extremely damaging on your body.

Being more of a fighter, you had suffered your fair share of injuries in the past. Around your sixth nameday, a special sling had to be made for your arm. You had broken it while wielding a large stick you found in the gardens of one of the many sponsors in Essos you lived with before moving onto the next. In your mind, you imagined it was the Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister that had once belonged to your great ancestor Visenya Targaryen. One jump off of the roof with your imaginary dragon had led to a nasty fall and started a series of mostly self-induced, reckless wounds. 

Scars covered your body, telling the stories of every horse you’d fallen off of and time you’d wrestled a Dothraki warrior that was easily twice your size. Daenerys hated how eager you were to pick up any sword or bow you could get your hands on but understood that trying to stop you only fueled the fire in your veins. When she had entered the funeral pyre and given birth to her three dragons, the only thing you could talk about from then on out was when they’d be large enough to ride. Not once did you worry about the possibility of falling out of the sky.

It took an entire week before you finally awoke, your first action trying to scramble out of bed despite the maesterscolding you for breaking several of your stitches. You had to know if your sister and friends were safe. Dany soon informed you that you were back in King’s Landing where Viserion was also healing. It was truly a relief to find out that he would be okay. Then your sister informed you of her plan to return to the north and aid in the fight against the dead at Winterfell while you were ordered to stay and rest in the capital.

“Dany, please!” You protested with every ounce of energy you had, causing a sharp pain to rip through your shoulder. “Let me go with you. I won’t let you do this alone!” 

“You are in no shape to fight, sister, and neither is your dragon. As your queen, I order you to stay here. I still have not been crowned and I need someone I can trust to guard the iron throne.”

It was a fight you knew you could not win, yet you dreaded being left alone in this strange city. “We have no allies here. I have no friends. Please, let me at least go with you to Winterfell and I won’t fight, I give you my word.” The thought of not being able to participate in the battle pained you but you at least wanted to be there for support. 

Your sister adamantly shook her head. “No, I will not gamble with your life. You are my heir and the only other person I trust to enact our mission. That is my final decision. Missandei and a few of the Unsullied will stay here with you. You should take the opportunity to get to know the people here, learn about the culture and make more allies. Many in Westeros still view us as foreigners and I need to know who I can truly trust to fully support my reign.”

“Dany, you know I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff,” you sighed and could already tell your head would be hurting for weeks if you were forced to sit and make pleasantries with strangers. Between you and your sister, she had always been more naturally gifted in the ways of diplomacy and charming others to listen to her words. You, on the other hand, were more inclined to laugh at the absolute worst moment of a conversation or trip over your own words and accidentally curse in a way completely unfit for a highborn lady. “If it’s seven kingdoms you wish to rule then you’ll ensure I’m not able to make a fool of myself in front of the most powerful families in Westeros.”

There was no convincing her. Your eyes stung stung for hours when your sister left you behind. In the following days, more agonizing than your wounds was the dreadful feeling of not knowing whether or not your friends were alive or dead. Being bedridden you felt completely helpless as the days came and went with no ravens delivering news of any sort of outcome yet. After a few days, you were finally given permission to try and walk again and took every opportunity to explore the castle. Missandei eventually tried to force you to rest and it took a great deal of effort to ditch her. Trying to shuffle as quickly as you could through several smaller corridors resulted in you being completely lost.

That was where you first met Margaery Tyrell. Somehow, she managed to sneak up on you the third time you realized you had walked past the same statue. “Your grace,” she performed a small curtsy in front of you. “I’m glad to see you have progressed tremendously from your injuries. I’m Margaery of the House Tyrell, truly, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“I…“ Oh gods, you weren’t prepared for this at all. It was like you instantly had forgotten how to speak. Many had said that Margaery was the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. And although you had seen very little of the seven kingdoms thus far, you were inclined to agree. She was utterly breathtaking, with honeyed hair and hypnotic eyes. You cursed at yourself for leaving Missandei, the only person that might have been able to save you in this current situation. You needed her to say absolutely anything else in literally any of the several languages she spoke. Even gibberish would have been better than you just standing there gaping at the poor lady.

She went ahead and continued speaking after you failed to respond with anything more than a wordless stare. “May I assist you in any way? I know how daunting finding your way around the castle can be. During my first two weeks of living here I got lost on my way to the Great Hall and found myself in a sunken courtyard where two men conversed with one another in a foreign language I didn’t recognize and ignored my presence when I tried to ask for help in Common Tongue. I had to wait for a cook to come rescue me and that was only because he was chasing a pigeon that had stolen his spoon from the kitchen!”

It was unclear whether or not you were meant to laugh at her anecdote and you didn’t want to risk doing the wrong thing. But then Margaery herself began chuckling at her previous misfortune and you felt relaxed enough to lift your lips into a small smile. Her energy was contagious and frankly, so was the sound of her laughter. You immediately wished to hear more of it.

“Yes, well… It’s, uh, strange never having been here myself but knowing my family has walked these halls for generations. I asked a servant if the rumors that dead Targaryens haunt the corridors were true and she nearly fainted. I suppose that answered my question. Honestly, it would be nice if their ghosts could offer me any directions.”

You worried that you might have overshared, although you had only been trying to follow Margaery’s lead. But the charming woman in front of you suddenly burst into the most melodic laughter you’d ever heard and a strange warmth rushed into your face.

“That would be helpful, wouldn’t it, if those from the past could offer their wisdom to us before we make the exact same mistakes they did?”

“Yes, exactly!” The fact that the two of you are on the same page has you giggling with complete elation. “Do you ever think about your dead family?”

As soon as the words left your mouth you only realized what you just said. Oh gods, why did you have to phrase it like that? How foolish did you have to be to forget that her own brother, Loras Tyrell, had been unable to escape the Great Sept not even two moons ago? 

Margaery blinked twice, staring at you mildly stunned. It was the same look you see on your sister’s face whenever tries to hold in a cringe and realizes she’ll have to offer up an explanation for your infantile behavior.

“I-I must apologize, my lady, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” You took several steps back from the woman, unsure if she wanted to turn and leave so you were prepared to excuse yourself first. “I understand if you want me to leave.”

“It’s alright. Please, stay.” You felt her hand reach for your wrist and although her touch was nothing but gentle it startled you. Your eyebrows immediately shot up like she had frozen you by some strange magic. “You’ve done nothing to offend me. I suppose I was simply surprised by your choice of words.”

You released a breath you’d been holding. “That tends to be a regular occurrence I’m afraid. My lady, I truly am sorry about the loss of your brother. My own was rather cruel and I feared him since I was a small child, yet his death unsettled me greatly even though he deserved it. I understand you were very close with yours and no one deserves that sort of fate. You and your family have my deepest condolences.”

“Thank you,” Margaery spoke more softly before with a new contemplative look in her eyes. “Loras was deeply misunderstood and unfortunately people weren’t very accepting of his differences. I wish he had been able to freely live as himself without judgment.”

It sounded all too familiar. Recently, people you knew had spoken about the youngest Tyrell son’s… sexual preferences… But you always tried to avert your attention from such conversations when you came across them, even if the participants didn’t seem hostile with their judgment. You were no longer in Essos where people like yourself were generally more accepted in society. And although the High Sparrow and his fanatics were gone, members of the Faith of the Seven continued to persecute others like you. 

“I understand the feeling. My sister and I hope to build a new Westeros where everyone is free to make their own decisions. A place that’s free of judgment and everyone can decide their own future, so long as it is done fairly. The weak and the poor will no longer break their backs for greedy men that would abuse them for a few coins.” 

“I should be quite fortunate to witness it,” she gave you a bright smile and offered you her arm, which you hesitated to take at first. A part of you knew even the slightest bit of her touch would be addicting for you, which turned out to be correct. She guided you throughout the rest of the castle and you decided that you’d let her lead you anywhere.

You found it strange when only a fortnight had passed and surprisingly you felt as if you’d been friends with MargaeryTyrell much longer. Whether you were struggling to find the proper words to use or going off on one of your many animated tangents, the southern lady never judged nor criticized you. It quickly became evident that she was a master at socializing and had no problem carrying the conversation on her own when you internally fussed over what to say. However, she was also eager to listen when you finally let one of your passionate ramblings pour from your heart. Even subjects that were positively unladylike, which you had first assumed would be of no interest to your new companion, became effortlessly easy to talk about with her. 

“Valyrian steel is objectively the best material to use if you ever needed an amputation. It cuts clean through skin, flesh, and bone, unlike more blunt blades which would be more likely to cause even greater injury. I’ve seen some medics have to practically saw their tools back and forth through limbs in order to get them to detach. It’s completely gruesome!”

“And Dark Sister, that was the one you used to pretend to have?” Margaery’s eyes shimmered like she was completely enthralled in your story. Never once did you think she’d call you a freak or too violent to be considered a lady.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. It was Visenya’s during Aegon’s conquests. I’ve always wanted to be a warrior like her for as long as I can remember. Of course Viserys only ever saw me and Daenerys as pawns easy enough to use, as was his right he said, to help take back his throne.”

“What he did was cruel and how I wish you had been treated better. Had a better childhood surrounded by your loved ones and a proper place to call home. I’m sure we would have met sooner, perhaps here at court. Except then you’d be the one showing me around and rescuing me from becoming lost!”

There’s nothing you could do to stop the blush from filling your cheeks as you imagined this rewritten version of history and who you might have been had things been different. The past wasn’t something you liked to dwell on too often as you knew there was no point in trying to change things, but one other thing had become incredibly clear about your future. You couldn’t imagine it without Margaery in your life.

Daenerys was finally due to come back tomorrow and while you were certainly eager to see her and have her introduced to Margaery, many other mixed emotions came with the letter she had most recently sent you. She’d mentioned several losses over the series of battles that had taken place up north. You knew victory would never have been easily won, but feared finding out which friends’ faces had been permanently taken from your life. Thankfully, Margaery was there to listen to you express your anxieties. 

“I have this horrible feeling that Jorah is dead. As complicated as his past was, I never doubted that he would lay down his own life to save me or my sister. He once promised me that he would never leave us and yet somehow, I know he’s gone and done just that.”

“I will be here for you every step of the way,” Margaery assured you, grabbing your hands and softly rubbing her thumbs upon the tops of them. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I may not know any of your friends but I will not leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you promise?” You squeezed her hands tighter, gazing up into her wide eyes and looking for any sign of uncertainty. There were so few people in this world that you’d let get to know the real you, and even fewer that had stayed and accepted it.

Her eyes softened, and in a way of almost sealing her promise she slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of you. You were a princess as your sister was the queen and people were regularly brought to bow before you just the same. Still, the way Margaery executed it without ever breaking eye contact made her particular act feel incredibly intimate, like she was pledging her loyalty not only to your blood or titles, but simply because it was you.

“I promise, my little dragon. Where you go, I go.” It was whenever she made statements like this that you almost believed she might have felt the same way as you did about her. 

A snarky smile crept across your face. “Does that mean you’ll finally ride Viserion with me?” You’d recently been begging the woman you were infatuated with for a chance to impress her with the one experience you knew she would not have had. Or could find anywhere else.

She let out a nervous laugh. “You forget, my dear, that I am a rose and am meant to be firmly planted into the ground. And while I’m sure Viserion has no qualms with you riding him, he’s surely to be mistrustful of a stranger like me. There are no dragon riders in my family’s history, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe you’re a stranger to him as of now but we can remedy that! I am bonded to him more deeply than humans can be with normal animals, which means he should inherently trust you as much as I do. He’s going to love you, I know it. Margaery, you must know I would never put you into danger like that.”

There was a substantial amount of hesitance which began to fade from her eyes. You tried to show her what you believed was your most empathetic look and you watched as your words caused the last few threads of doubt to come undone.

“I trust you as well. But I shall have to ask for something small in return, if you’d agree to it.”

She could’ve asked you for the world and you knew you would give it to her. The two of you then struck a deal and made your way to dragon pit. 

Viserion was already in protective mode as you approached him, making sure he had at least one eye on Margeary at all times. You started to speak to him in High Valyrian, explaining that you had brought a special friend and your comfort around her appeared to ease him. The golden rose tried to remain calm throughout the whole ordeal as well, though you sensed that she was dealing with a reasonable amount of nerves deep down. Her hand timidly reached out for yours, in a way that was surprisingly bashful for the normally confident woman, and you immediately accepted her touch.

Three circles around King’s Landing was all it took to change Margaery’s mind about flying. A perfectly blue and cloudless sky made for the perfect views. The few screams she attempted to stifle had turned into pure uninhibited laughter by the second lap, and you only landed shortly after to be certain you weren’t overworking Viserion so soon after his injury.

As much joy spending time with Margaery brought you, there was a voice from your past softly whispering in your ear, telling you not to get too attached. You were a dragon but you had been burned before. Dany was the only other person that truly knew how complicated your relationship with Doreah had been. Completely smitten with her from the start, it was easy enough for her to win over your innocent heart with a few stolen kisses and flirtatious words. She made you believe you were her favorite and even more special than your sister. It eventually drew a wedge between you and Danythat gave Doreah the opportunity to betray the both of you. Worst of all, you couldn’t prove it but you knew she had killed Irri too.

“Now do you see why I told you not to trust her?” Both your sister’s embrace and her words were firm as she had turned from the vault where Doreah and Xaro Xhoan Daxos were sealed inside. Your body was still shaking but Daenerys was determined for you to remember every detail of that exact moment. “As Targaryens, people will always envy our power and try not only to take it but to have us give it to them if they can.”

“I won’t ever let us feel like that again, sister, I swear it,” you had promised with the utmost sincerity.

You never let yourself fall for another again until you invited Margaery Targaryen to accompany you on Viserion and it made you feel alive again. The realization began to set in when your feet landed back on the ground, with a heaviness in both your heart and your knees suddenly overtaking you. Margaery naturally caught sight of the grimace on your face and asked if everything was alright. Honestly, you didn’t even know what the truth was.

“Margaery,” the gravity in your voice made even Viserion shift uncomfortably. You knew you had to be honest to receive honesty in return. “I will grant whatever favor you request of me as I am a woman and princess of my word. I only ask that you be sincere with me. Getting to know you recently has felt like a breath of fresh air, but I have been used and toyed with for my name and my power since I was born. You are a woman of noble birth with the duty of uplifting your family and house. I can respect that. It is also evident that you are more than capable of securing your own means of influence. You have been wed to three men that have called themselves ‘King’. It would be foolish of you not to try and befriend me, but I must know, what is it that you really want?”

Margaery sighed and momentarily averted her gaze from you. You’d never seen her that reserved before. Having her be the one too nervous to open up to you was a strange switch in the roles you’d mostly settled in over the past few weeks. It made you eager to demonstrate the lack of judgment you held on your part. You ached to be someone she could trust and every second of silence that passed had you sitting in bitter anticipation.

When she finally spoke, it was with a solemn sense of conviction. “I have wanted to be Queen for so long. You’re not wrong to assume it has completely consumed my life. These past few years have been especially driven by my obsession, which might have started as a seed planted by my family but became fully grown and sustained by my own ambition a long time ago.”

She paused after that, clearly unaccustomed to the position she had found herself in. There was also something else about her demeanor that you couldn’t clearly define. Shame, regret, possibly even indignation? You slowly leaned in closer, careful to make sure you weren’t overstepping, but wanting to show that you were there for her.

“I was always maintaining a specific persona, trying to play the role of a voice for the poor when I only cared about how the publicity could serve my own interests. I was not like you or your sister. Truthfully, I made very little effort to help anyone aside from myself and my family and never sacrificed more than a few comforts or dresses I dirtied. Even when I was officially the queen, all the power that came with the crown wasn’t enough to save my brother from the animosity and unfairness which runs so deeply in the establishments that uphold our society. Things that I didn’t spare a second thought for until they came to hurt the ones I love and it was too late to do anything.

“Margaery,” you shook your head and bravely reached for her hands. “None of what happened is your fault. You’re only one person and shouldn’t put the pressure to change history and customs by yourself. We’re all human.”

She squeezed your hands tightly, pulling you closer to her so that only a few inches separated your faces. Gods, being near her affected you like a powerful drug. She smelled of roses and fresh morning dew in the early spring as you expected from a lady of Highgarden. There was something in her presence that seemed to transport you there. And though you had never actually been, it strangely felt like home.

“Yes, you are human, dragon rider, and more,” she smiled and came to run the back of her fingers softly down your cheek. Your legs would have given out had you not been so determined to keep looking up into her enchanting eyes. “And yet when all odds were against you, you and your sister freed thousands and bettered the lives of countless others with nothing expected in return. That is true selflessness and deserves the right to rule, as I am certain you shall do fairly as these kingdoms desperately need. You will bring forth the future where people like me and Loras could have lived freely. A place I never even imagined until I met you.”

Nothing in her words or demeanor felt dishonest but something told you the request she had yet to make would reveal the ultimate truth. If she believed in you and your sister’s mission then would it be so outlandish to think she’d ask for your friendship above additional power? Your heart was beating frantically and you strained your voice to get out your next few words.

“Margaery, what is it that you want from me?” Despite knowing that she had the power to end you right then and there, you chose to cling onto hope and held onto her one hand and lean into the touch of the other which now rested on the opposite side of your face. Doreah had been gentle with you at times but not in a way quite like this. Her affections had always been calculated and she gave you just enough to leave you wanting more. Teasing and playing games with you where you were only awarded by granting her favors. Margaery held you like she never wanted to let you go, even if it burned her skin in the process.

“If you wouldn’t be opposed to it, I’d like to kiss you, little dragon.”

Your heart must’ve stopped and all you could do was nod. Then as soon as Margaery’s lips met your own it began to beat once more, complete with new life she breathed into you. Her kiss was soft at first, careful to ensure the continued contact was alright with you before you deepened it. She tasted of vanilla and sweets and you eagerly chased to explore into her mouth further with her tongue. Your enthusiasm must’ve surprised the other woman, though she gave off a pleased chuckle before shortly taking back the lead and her other hand found your waist.

“Kostilus,” you moaned as she pressed your bodies even closer together. Everything else you wanted to say you put into your movements. Margaery smiled once again and her chest vibrated when you went to wrap your arms around her neck and continued to interrupt your dance with brief pronunciations of Valyrian words. She didn’t need to speak the language to understand what you were pleading for, and it pleased her greatly in many ways.

The two of you instantly separated when Viserion let out a deep cry that vibrated the ground around you. He twisted his neck up towards the sky where a dark mass grew faster and faster in its descent. Drogon answered his brother’s call and you realized Dany must be home. You grabbed Margaery’s hand, the biggest grin painted across your face. Getting to kiss Margaery and reunite with your sister had you so giddy that it didn’t occur to you how Margaery had never met Drogonbefore, who was much larger and intimidating than your sweet Viserion.

But all you could think about was how relieved you were to see your sister and her dragon both safe and unharmed. You raced to Dany when she began to dismount and dragged Margaery along with you. You felt as if you could burst with joy in that very moment, although your sister’s face did not show the same excitement or relief as you would have expected. No, this wasn’t Dany excited to greet you after an easy victory. This was Queen Daenerys already fueled on anger and glaring daggers at the woman next to you. 

To her credit, Margaery stood firmly next to you in the face of the Mother of Dragons and her fiercest son.

“Who is she?” 

[ltash]

Till Death Do Us Part

Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination, lasting till death do us part." – Voltaire

Ghost x female reader

They opened the door, and I stepped inside. The safehouse was a small, modest building, its worn exterior hinting at its age but providing a sense of security.

"How do we get in?" Soap asked, glancing around the room.

I rolled my eyes. "Roll your eyes back. Is there a brain there? Obviously, we break in."

"Not funny, Angela," Soap replied, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah, by breaking in," Ghost chimed in with a smirk.

"That's why I love the Ghost," Soap said, grinning.

"Angela, you have to stay here. We can't take you with us. It's very dangerous," Ghost said firmly, taking hold of my shoulders.

"But I..." I started to insist.

"I said I won't take you there. We'll manage it on our own," Ghost interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Okay," I replied, feeling a bit defeated. "But what will I do here all alone?"

"You can take the tire swing on the tree. We won't mind," Rodolfo joked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh my God!" I burst out laughing, the tension easing for a moment with his humor.

"We need more than that," Ghost said, eyeing the sparse supplies in the safehouse.

Rodolfo slid open a door, revealing a stockpile of ammo. "And a vehicle," he said, tossing a set of keys to Ghost, who caught them effortlessly.

He turned on the old light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a military convoy parked in the back.

"Stay safe, you three," I said, watching them as they prepared to leave.

My heart was racing a million miles a minute. Something felt off, but I kept silent, not wanting to undermine their mission.

I stood by the tree, watching them drive away. The convoy's engine roared to life, and as they disappeared into the distance, I clasped my hands together, praying silently for their safety.

They reached the prison complex, the tension palpable. Ghost took the lead, moving with the silent precision of a predator. Soap followed closely, covering him as Ghost used his stealth skills to knife down the enemies one by one.

Using rope ascenders, they climbed the towering prison walls. The ascent was swift and silent, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Reaching the top, they broke into the control room and swiftly eliminated the shadows stationed there.

"I am out, watch for me," Ghost whispered.

"Rog! Good luck, LT," Soap replied, his eyes glued to the CCTV feed, ensuring Ghost's path remained clear.

Soap helped Ghost, guiding him about the location of the enemies. Ghost moved with precision, knifing them down one by one. As they rescued Alejandro, they moved towards the exit, shooting enemies. But in the chaos, Ghost got left behind.

Five to six shadows surrounded him, beating him badly. One struck his head with a metal pipe, and he fell unconscious.

Soap, Rudy, and Alejandro had already made it out. "Where is Hermano?" Alejandro asked, looking around.

"He’s left inside. Ghost, do you copy?" Soap called, but there was no reply. "LT! Where are ye?" he yelled, desperation in his voice.

"We cannot go back, shadows are after us," Rudy said, urgency driving them forward.

Just then, a helicopter arrived, shooting down the enemies. Alejandro, Soap, and Rudy made their way towards the wall and used ascenders to climb over.

"Where is Ghost?" Captain Price demanded as they regrouped.

"He’s missing. He was left behind and his comms are silent," Soap replied, the worry evident in his tone.

"How in the hell did you leave him behind? He is our Lieutenant!" Captain Price yelled, his frustration boiling over.

"Hermano, we have no time. We have to move. We’ll rescue him once we sort it out," Rudy said, trying to calm the situation.

Reluctantly, they made their way to the van and drove towards Alejandro’s safehouse, bringing along the Vaqueros soldiers they had rescued. The mission wasn fucked up because Ghost was MIA.

I was fooling around outside the safehouse when the vehicles approached. I saw Alejandro, Rodolfo, Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz climbing down from the van.

"Where is Ghost?" I asked, my heart racing.

"I am sorry, hermana, but he is MIA," Alejandro said, his voice heavy with regret.

"What the fuck? How can he be missing? How could you leave him behind like this? Soap, say something. Are you guys out of your mind?" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

"Don't worry, hermana, we'll get him back," Alejandro tried to reassure me.

"I don't know. I won't forgive you if anything happens to him. I will kill everyone. You hear me?" I shouted, my voice breaking as I stomped inside the safehouse, the weight of fear and anger pressing down on me.

In the interrogation room, Ghost sat tied to a chair, his Beretta and vest stripped away, leaving him vulnerable in just his zipper hoodie. Graves, flanked by his shadows, paced in front of him, exuding an air of menace and authority.

"Where are they, Lieutenant?" Graves demanded, his voice a low growl edged with threat.

Ghost remained silent, his jaw clenched in defiance. He knew the consequences of revealing any information. Graves motioned to one of his men, who delivered a swift punch to Ghost's gut, causing him to grunt in pain.

"You think we won't find out eventually?" Graves sneered, his eyes narrowing. "Your comrades can't protect you forever."

Ghost spat blood onto the floor, his gaze unwavering. He was accustomed to pain, physical and emotional, but he wouldn't break.

"Where is Captain Price headed?" Graves pressed, his tone now laced with impatience.

Another punch landed on Ghost's cheek, snapping his head to the side. He gritted his teeth, tasting blood in his mouth. Still, he remained silent, refusing to give Graves the satisfaction of a response.

Graves stepped closer, leaning in until his face was inches from Ghost's. "You're making a mistake, Lieutenant. We will find out one way or another."

With that, he nodded to his men, who resumed their relentless questioning and punishment. Ghost endured each blow with stoic resolve, knowing that his silence was not just about protecting his team but also about preserving his honor and duty.

Once I went inside, I fell in a corner, crying my eyes out. Soap approached me, trying to calm me down.

"I don't wanna talk to anybody," I yelled, pushing him away.

Captain Price knelt down beside me, patting my shoulder. "Angela, we'll get him back. He's a fighter. Nothing will happen to him. Don't worry."

"We are going to kill Graves and take back the base," Price said, his voice firm and resolute.

"When?" Rudy asked, his eyes narrowed with determination.

"Now," Captain Price replied. "We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We are a team, Ghost Team."

"I'm going with you guys," I said, standing up, my voice filled with resolve. "I will kill that bastard Graves. He is mine."

I was the only woman there, and all eyes were on me, but I didn't care. Ghost needed us, and I would stop at nothing to bring him back.

It was almost sunrise when we got prepared. I was in the van with Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, and other Vaqueros. Captain Price and Gaz were in the helicopter, providing air support. Other Vaqueros soldiers followed in the vehicle behind us. The air was thick with tension and determination. It was now or never.

"Everyone ready?" Soap asked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through our veins.

Alejandro nodded, checking his gear one last time. "Let's do this."

Rudy glanced at me, giving a reassuring nod. "Stay close, hermana."

I took a deep breath, gripping my weapon tighter. "Let's bring Ghost back and take back our base."

The van sped towards our destination, the horizon tinged with the first light of dawn. We were ready to face whatever came our way, united by a single goal: to rescue Ghost and take down Graves.

As we approached, the landscape became a blur, our focus sharpening with each passing second. The time for action was upon us, and we would stop at nothing to succeed.

Our van came to a stop at a safe distance from the compound. We waited anxiously for Captain Price's signal to breach the gate. The tension was palpable as we watched the helicopter position itself for the strike.

"Get ready," Soap muttered, eyes fixed on the compound gates.

With a deafening blast, Captain Price blew open the gate using the helicopter's firepower. The moment it crumbled, we wasted no time. We rushed out of the van, adrenaline pumping through our veins. Other Vaqueros soldiers moved in from the opposite side, converging with us.

"Soap, you and the other Vaqueros, follow me," I directed firmly, my voice carrying the weight of urgency and resolve. Beside me, Soap nodded in silent acknowledgment, his eyes reflecting the same determination.

"Gaz and Alejandro, head through the storage," I continued, outlining the strategy. The storage area would be a key point of entry and an essential part of our mission's success.

With the plan set in motion, we moved swiftly. The sound of gunfire echoed through the compound as we advanced, each step taking us closer to our objective and, hopefully, to finding Ghost. The air buzzed with adrenaline and determination as we navigated through the labyrinthine corridors.

I moved swiftly, my training kicking in as I dispatched the shadows blocking our path with precise shots. Each movement was calculated, each enemy fell under my focused gaze.

Graves struck at our helicopter, sending it spiraling down in a fiery explosion. Captain Price had managed to escape just in time, a stroke of luck in the chaos of battle.

Our objective loomed clear amidst the chaos: infiltrate Alejandro's office building, now under Graves' control. It was a stronghold we needed to reclaim, a critical foothold in our mission against the treacherous Shadows.

As gunfire echoed around us and the scent of smoke filled the air, determination hardened in my heart. Graves had underestimated our resolve, and now he would face the consequences.

When the last of the shadows fell under our onslaught, we converged at Alejandro's office door. Rudy swiftly planted the C4 explosives.

"1, 2, 3," he counted, and with a thunderous blast, the door shattered into fragments, clearing our path inside.

My thoughts raced to Ghost as we stormed the room. Amidst the chaos and urgency, my determination surged. I was resolved to save him, no matter the peril or cost.

Inside, the building echoed with tension and the lingering scent of gunpowder. Graves and his cohorts were nowhere to be seen, but the signs of their occupation were stark — overturned furniture, shattered glass, and the residue of a hostile takeover.

I scanned the room, searching for any clue that might lead me to Ghost's whereabouts.

I made my way through the corridors, checking and opening every door. “Ghost!” I called out, my voice echoing through the abandoned hallways.

My steps halted near the interrogation room. Without hesitation, I slammed the door open. My eyes darted to him immediately.

There he was, tied to a chair, his skull mask broken and torn to shreds, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. The dripping blood had soaked into his jeans. His vest was gone, leaving him only in his hoodie.

He looked at me with eyes devoid of feeling. I ran towards him. “Babe! I’m here,” I said, hugging him tightly.

“Angela!” he whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I cupped his face gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Simon. I promise.”

His hands were bound with a bunch of zip ties. I grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut them one by one. His wrists were bruised and bleeding, but I kept my focus.

“Soap! Captain Price! I’ve got Ghost. Get to the interrogation room, now!” I yelled into the comms, my voice firm and urgent.

Soap and Captain Price rushed into the room. Together, they helped Ghost to his feet and guided him out, with me following closely behind.

Shadows were still swarming the area. Gaz and I took up positions, covering for them as we moved. Every Shadow that came into view was taken down on the spot, our shots precise and lethal.

“Keep moving!” I shouted, firing at an approaching Shadow.

Gaz took down another with a well-placed shot. “We’ve got your back!” he called out.

Soap and Price kept Ghost steady, moving swiftly but carefully through the building. We needed to get out, but we also needed to clear a path. The tension was high, but we worked like a well-oiled machine, each of us knowing exactly what needed to be done.

“Almost there!” Price shouted, glancing back at me.

“Just a bit further,” I urged, taking out another Shadow. “Stay with us, Ghost. We’re almost out.”

When we went out of the building, more Shadows emerged from the surrounding darkness.

Soap, Gaz, and Captain Price covered us, their gunfire echoing through the night as they took down enemy after enemy.

I tilted my neck upwards to look into Ghost's eyes, holding his hands in mine. "I promised you, I will be your best friend. I will be with you through thick and thin. See? I found you. I won't let anything happen to you." I smiled, trying to reassure him.

"Thank you so much, Angela, for always being there for me," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

I saw a sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle I was missing to see for a long time. We looked into each other's eyes. No words were needed at that moment.

Just then, a stray bullet hit me on my shoulder near my neck and went all the way through into his chest.

We both fell, with me landing on his chest.

"Simon!" I gasped his name. My breaths came shaky and in wheezes.

"Angela," he whispered.

I held his hand gently in mine as I rolled to his side, looking into his eyes. He looked into mine, and it was like time froze. The chaos and gunfire around us muffled, everything in slow motion.

It was like time froze there. The sounds of gunfire and chaos faded into the background as I lay on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat rising, frantic and scared.

"Angela," he whispered, his voice strained. Despite the pain, his gaze remained locked on mine.

Our blood mingled, a visceral reminder of our bond and the danger that now threatened to tear us apart. I clutched his hand gently, feeling his grip tighten in response. I struggled to keep my composure, knowing that time was slipping away.

"I won't let you go that easily," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos around us.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to steady my voice. "I'm here, Simon. Stay with me," I pleaded, my heart breaking with each labored breath he took.

"Simon," I whispered again, desperate for him to hear me, to hold on.

I had no energy to even talk. My breath came in shallow, wheezing gasps. Each breath felt like a battle I was losing.

His eyes, once bright with determination, began to close slowly. My grip on his hand tightened, as if I could anchor him to this world through sheer willpower.

Our surroundings faded into the background as I focused solely on him, on our love that had defied every obstacle until now. I felt a deep ache in my chest, a realization that our time together might be slipping away in these agonizing moments.

As his eyes closed, I held onto the memory of his gaze, the strength and love I saw reflected there. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I whispered one last time, "I love you, Simon."

The world seemed to stand still as darkness closed in around us, enveloping our intertwined hands and the unspoken promises that lingered in the air.

[deeptrashwitch]

A Haunting Past (pt.5)

Tw: This chapter doesn't have any trigger warning, please correct me if you find any that should be added ^^

Taglist: @alypink @snootlestheangel @mctvsh @stuffireadandenjoy @islandtarochips

@justasmolbard @tapioca-milktea1978 @midnight193 @mutantthedark @welldonekhushi

Alicia was in the kitchen, looking outside in silence as her tea cup got colder, but her mind was remembering. The times when she was a Sergeant inside Camp Lejeune, before she became a Captain and even before she met Edward, when she ran beside the new soldiers for the 267 during the training basically screaming some cadences to keep the pace. Now those times were long gone, those days were now blurry memories that brought a sour feeling back.

"It's two in the morning, Alicia" Wraith murmured as she walked inside the kitchen "you should be sleeping"

"I tried. Didn't work" she said without looking at her

"That's odd, usually you don't have this many bad nights in a row"

"All this made them worse, I can't sleep and even if I use medicine...it doesn't works either"

"...And what are you thinking about now?"

"How to rescue my cousin" she half lied with a sigh "I heard from the team who had this location about how it was distributed"

"And?"

"It's apparently the same"

"Oh, that won't be something good" Wraith murmured before sitting as well "Alicia, I have some things to tell you"

"I'm all ears"

"Watcher called me reluctantly, I'm sure you heard about all that has been happening, right?"

"The attack to the plane was the last thing I heard"

"From there they found some things about Makarov, apparently White Tiger gave that bastard some missiles and he used it against a Russian base" Dominique explained pinching her nose bridge "it all has been a chaos with them as well, but they found some intel about a safe house and most important...the route of a convoy that apparently will transport Makarov himself"

"You don't think he's there, do you?"

"Mmm, at this point I'm not sure, but it has to be someone important to be so well scorted. And the 141 asked for our help to ambush the convoy"

"...When and where?"

"Siberia, two days from today. But, you need to give this one to Luke, I need you for something else"

"Oh?"

"I have something on the Broken Statue matter, it's something smaller than I would like, but it's our best shot right now"

"Tell me"

"The one who did it surely is someone of a higher rank, and I know that it doesn't exactly narrows our suspects since it was a conjoined mission...but I found something on that archive that might give us something" she said, leaving a copy of a note inside the lost archive over the table "it's just a brief mention, but they apparently went after the old Captain as well, the retired William McAllister"

"After Artemis? I mean, he hasn't been in scene since...he put Oliver on charge" Alicia murmured with a frown "why appearing now? And mostly under this kind of conditions"

"No one knew this, but Artemis was one of the people that was consulted during the planning of Firewall with other superiors from the branches. He suggested two teams, SEAL 3 and your Task Force"

"William was involved then? That changes some things..." she murmured before sighing heavily "SEAL 3 and Morocco, how much does Jackson knows? And Edward?"

"You knew about their involvement?"

"When I first heard about Jackson, I guessed it, and about Eddie...I heard it from the 101st"

"I see. Well, Blackwell is just aware of his part of the mission and that there was a rescue"

"Continue"

"And Jackson...he knows that something bad happened, but isn't sure of what was it. None of them knows about Lebanon or Angola"

"Keep it that way for now"

"Alicia"

"I know, just...let me rescue my cousin and have proofs about this traitor, then I'll tell them myself"

"Fine, but if you don't, I will. They need to know before it happens again"

Alicia nodded and sighed tiredly, but chugged the cold tea in a second before standing up. While she left the room, she threw the old dog tags towards Wraith, who grabbed them. Dominique got pale when she noticed the number in it, then looked at Alicia, she had lifeless eyes...the same of that day.

"And even if I don't tell them, they'll figure it out. Right now they know that something is off and Jackson has the original medical record, unfortunately, it's just a matter of time" she said as she pointed at the tags "Broken Statue will have to be desclasified sooner than any of us would like if we continue like this"

Two days later, Alicia was looking at how Luke, Noah, Elijah and Francis were packing up to go to Siberia as back up. Once again she saw Nikolai, to whom she nodded as they exchanged looks, taking her boys towards the place where they should reunite with Price and the 141. For a second the line remained silent, but soon she heard how the four of them started to report themselves as confirmation, then she used her own radio to comunicate with them before letting them go.

"Origin to Harlem, Cobalto, Delta and Viper" she called with a little smile "you copy, boys?"

"We do, Origin, loud and clear" Luke answered with a low chuckle

"Good, then I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you that this will be alright, I trust that you'll make it back. See you around, boys, take care and show that son of a bitch that he made his worst mistake"

"Will do"

"Now go"

"...Take care you too, tell Doc if you need any help" the Lieutenant told her, really worried

"I will, over and out"

Like that, she stared at the helicopter until she didn't see it anymore, then went to talk with Jackson and Edward. She left them as the ones in charge until she came back, trying to disimulate her nervousness and worries, promising that she just would be out for a day as much. And once they were preparing everything for the daily duties after confirming her, Alicia went towards Wraith, who was already waiting for her with a different car by her side.

They didn't say anything to each other, and just drove off, arriving some hours later to the place shere they needed to be. It was a beautiful house on the suburbs, that was the McAllister house and now Alicia was a bit nervous, has been a long time since the last time she talked with Artemis in person. When they knocked, an old woman opened the door, gasping surprised of watching the two woman.

"Mrs. Diana McAllister?" Wraith asked with a raised eyebrow

"That would be me" the old lady said before looking at the Captain "aren't you the lil' Sergeant that was under my Will's command at first?"

"Yes, that's me, Mrs. McAllister...has passed a long time" Alicia murmured with a little smile "how have you been?"

"Oh dear, come on in, come on in, let's talk inside! It's so good to see you again!"

They got inside the house, looking at some pictures of Artemis and his wife, even some of them with their kids. It wasn't long before they were sit in front of the old lady, who started to talk happily as both of them hear calmly. Soon they noticed that there was no trace of Artemis over there, but Alicia didn't want to ask, she had a bad feeling about it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but perhaps you can call your husband? We need to talk with him" Wraith asked sofly, just for Diana to get sadder

"It seems like you didn't know"

"Know what?"

"My William died, in 2017, he died. It was so sudden" the old woman said, looking down "he went to do his usual things and just...died, it was a clogged arthery"

"I see, I'm sorry Diana" Alicia muttered, with wide eyes because of the surprise "I...didn't know"

"I know, Will asked in his will not to tell you, he said you'd be on a bad place" she said before sighing, smiling softly "actually he left something for you as well, want me to bring it here?"

"Yes please, that would be great"

When the old lady walked away, Alicia left the cup over the table, sighing as she put a hand over her face. Wraith looked at her, but waited for a second before the Captain spoke again.

"Artemis didn't die from natural causes" Alicia said with darkened eyes

"What? But his wife said..."

"I heard what she said, but he never had any cholesterol issues and was always really worried about it during and after his service with us"

"Maybe it changed after a decade of not seeing"

"We saw each other in 2015 for the last time, it's difficult that someone like Artemis has that kind of slope" she explained with a grimace "he always was in good health and even if he was having that...it would've been much time later"

"So you think...?"

"It's a suspicion, I'm not sure yet"

"I'll look into it, for now let's see what Cpt. McAllister left you"

Soon the old woman arrived with a sealed box, that Alicia opened after making sure it didn't have any kind of artifact attached, looking inside. It was a bunch of books, more than a hundred, all of them first editions, except for seventeen that were old and worn out journals. Alicia hold her breath for a second and closed the box again, then looking at the old woman with surprise, who only smiled quietly.

"It has been a long time..."

"He was really insistent about it, to keep it until you came here"

"I understand, thank you, Diana" she said, standing up and kissing the old lady's forehead "sorry for taking your time with this"

"Don't worry, my dear" the lady said with a chuckle "if you need help, my daugther will be happy to help you"

"I...will think about it"

Soon, the two of them walked outside the house with the box, and remained silent until they were far from there.

"Care to explain?"

"William used to write everything on journals that he always kept, all these...are his diaries since he arrived to the MC" Alicia explained while she took out all of them and start to read some pages "the last three, they probably talk about Firewall, his suspicions and more...oh shit"

"What?"

"All this is encrypted"

"That's why..."

"Yes, that explain why he left this and why his wife kept it for so long. She was an FBI agent before marrying Artemis, perhaps she knows that William's death wasn't natural"

"Oh, what a curriculum, huh? But why she mentioned her daugther? And why you looked so awkward?"

"Have you heard of Maddison McAllister?"

"Wait, the anthropology eminence?"

"She's their daugther, especialized on encrypted old texts...so probably there's a code in this"

"You...you know a lot about this family, why?"

Alicia looked away with awkwardness, and in a second Wraith joined the points, choking with laughter.

"Before or after you met Alejandro?"

"After, during the time where we broke up" she answered with some shame and a sigh "he had someone in Las Almas too, I was a Sergeant and Artemis basically put us together"

"Why did you broke up?"

"We didn't worked well together, our personalities clashed a lot...and I didn't get over Alejandro by that time"

"You never did"

"Not the fucking point!"

"Ha! Well, whatever, you're lucky we have our own code expert in Black Tomb" Wraith said with a mocking smile "let's talk with Nicholas first before recurring to your ex from all the people"

"I hate you"

"Nah, not true"

"I can identify some patterns" Nicholas murmured once they went to talked with him, looking into his notebook "there are some soviet well known codes, but also an american encryption. I can decrypt it, but the rest are some I haven't seen ever"

"So we have to go and see her" Wraith said with a mocking smile while Alicia sighed heavily

"Nicholas, pack up, we're going to New York" Alicia said pinching her nose bridge "and no, not you, Dominique, you stay here"

"Fine, fine, anyway I have other things to do" Wraith answered with a smile "good luck"

"Hmm, yes ma'am...?" Nicholas muttered a bit confused

And like that, the next day they were in New York, going to the university where they would find Maddison. While they walked towards the campus, Alicia had a headache, that would be an awkward reunion to have now. Whatever the case, she was smiling a bit as she saw how Nicholas was looking around with curiosity, just in silence.

"Are you good, Nicholas?" she asked with a side smile "are you curious?"

"A lot, but I guess that half of this is above my paycheck" he answered with a chuckle, just to sigh quietly "but I wonder how you feel, you seemed really stressed and tired. So I'm kinda worried"

"I've been...okay, sorry if I worry you, it's just something that keeps me thinking"

"If you say so, but I hope everything ends up well. We're all worried about you"

Alicia scoffed with a smile, but just ruffled Nicholas' hair as they walked to the faculty building, where everyone was filled with excitment. They had to open some path for them with pushes, arriving to a empty spot of the hall, then Alicia sighed.

"What's going on?"

"A professor is giving a lecture today" Nicholas said, pointing at a classroom "aparently a famous one, hmm, Charles Moore"

"Ah, I heard of him, I studied his books when I was preparing to became an officer" she said with a sigh, taking out one of the books she brought as bait "brilliant man, but isn't my favorite author"

"Huh, who would've said" he said with a raised eyebrow "well, maybe one day I should read those books"

"Yeah, maybe" Alicia murmured, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the picture of the professor "oh, oh shit"

"What is it?"

"Ah, nothing. Just something I remembered"

They walked towards professor McAllister's office, while the Captain wondered if she had other option, but then they knocked. Nicholas walked inside first, looking at the woman behind the desk, who smiled at him with politeness. And then Alicia walked inside as well, erasing her smile and changing it for a frown, and the environment became tense.

"Maddison" the Captain said calmly with a raised eyebrow

"Alicia" the Professor answered, coldly and frowning "so you're the one that my mother told me about, what do you want? Maybe talk about us?"

"Keep it as business, nothing else"

"Business, it always is like that with you"

"Ugh, listen, I was never cold with you, was I?" Alicia said pinching her nose bridge "the reason I'm here it's different, I'm not gonna fight with you"

"Hah, then what is it?"

"Your father's journals, my comms expert already decrypted part of it, but some other part is more on your field of expertise" she said as she put the three last journals over Maddison's desk "so your mother told me you could help"

"Of course my mom said that, and huh, you finally went for all the things my father left you" she hissed as she took the journals "but why should I help?"

"I leave that reason for you, all I need is that you decrypt it, nothing else" Alicia said shrugging her shoulders quietly

"I don't see until what point your people decrypted it"

"Here, I had it 'til this point" Nicholas intervened with a cough, leaving his notebook over the desk "I wasn't able to go foward from this point"

"...I'll wait outside, doesn't seem like I'll be useful here" Alicia said with a raised eyebrow, staring at Maddison before sighing "come talk to me when you finish, Nicholas"

"Yes Captain"

Alicia walked outside in silence, waiting on the hall as she texted to Wraith, at the same time learning about what was happening with Luke's mission. She raised an eyebrow when she learned about the package, it was the fucking General Shepherd, and right now they were in the middle of a trial. In a second, the military started to watch the transmission with her earphones, frowning when she noticed Graves as she wondered what his reaction would be.

During Shepherd's declaration in the court, her anger boiled, hearing how he tried to justify himself and his actions in Las Almas and in the Middle East. But she had to admit, to herself and maybe to Wraith, that she snickered when she heard Graves throwing the fault into Shepherd without a blink. It was true that he was a son of a bitch too, but he was better than Shepherd in some aspects, so well...she can lead with it for now.

"Huh, long time since I laughed like this" she murmured with a sad smile, then looked at her phone

She wanted to call Alejandro, talk with him and maybe ask for advice or just to hear from him, with all the stress she couldn't speak with him as much as she would like. In silence she stared at their chat, just to type a quick message and sending it before she regreted it, just waiting as she stared at the hall. It was a second, but he answered and they started to talk, at the same time a bit of the stress was lifted from her.

Alicia smiled when she read his messages, feeling a bit better, then leaving aside her phone after a while. Soon she looked at the other journals she brought with her, reading slightly one of the middle journals she inherited, staying in silence when she saw a picture. It was an old photo from her Sergeant days, where William and Oliver were beside her, all of them smiling proudly with the emblem of the 267 in front of the hangar they had in Camp Lejeune.

Then Alicia's head turned and torned the image, now one of them was dead, and Oliver blamed her, at first she was rageous...but now she thought that maybe he was right. It was her decision to accept their participation on Firewall, they died because of her, and for her.

"Captain?" Nicholas asked, startling her "are you okay? You're crying..."

"I...I'm fine" Alicia said, touching her tears with a sigh "just old memories"

"Here" he muttered giving her a handckerchief "I have the codes, if you can give me some days, then I can decrypt the diaries"

"Thanks boy, let's go. The faster we finish this, the faster everything goes back to the normal"

"Yes ma'am"

Alicia put back the diaries and everything inside the bag, then walked away with a tired sigh, followed by Nicholas. She saw two messages in her phone, and just turned it off with a sad look, work was awaiting.

'Are you okay? Even your boys have called me...they are worried for you, amor' Alejandro wrote

'Licia? You good? Luke told me you were being weird, what is it?' Nicolás wrote as well

"We can finally start the rescue mission..."

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime,

Is there any cure, or effective therapy, for primus apotheosis? At 1 in 50 Autobots and some Decepticons too, it sounds like it might be worth worrying about.

Dear Copy Convoy,

Many prominent cychologists suggest that "Matrix visualization" is an effective treatment. This stems from the post-Froidian belief that Primus apotheosis stems from Orion Pax's unique transformation into Optimus Prime. Whereas many Autobots tend to receive physical changes from accepting the Matrix, for Optimus this change was primarily a deepening of his moral strength. As a result, the patient suffering from Primus apotheosis needs to clearly articulate their goals for a self-actualized life in a document. This document is sealed into a mock Matrix, which is periodically "unleashed" and reviewed. Assuming realistic goals are set, the majority of patients tend to develop their own inner sense of worth, one that isn't predicated on comparison to another.

[stephensmithuk]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: Three Broken Threads

Hat tip to @myemuisemo for another excellent post that covers much of what I was planning together:

Data protection was not really a thing back in 1889. However, paper hotel registers would be something filled in by the front desk staff, not the guest. They would contain details of extra charges incurred as well, all stuff generally done by computer, but you can still buy paper copies today. Particularly for the Indian market, where less than half the population have Internet access. These registers are generally mandatory and in some countries, the data will still be passed to the police when it concerns newly arrived foreigners. That's why they ask for your passport.

Newcastle upon Tyne, the one people generally talk about as opposed to Newcastle-under-Lyme in Staffordshire, was at the centre of a major coal mining area in North-East England, the Durham and Northumberland coalfields being in close proximity. The industry was still employing children - boys as young as 12 could work in mines - and was still a pretty dangerous, not to mention unhealthy industry.

The British economy was heavily reliant on coal, especially the newly built electric power stations. While the railways had a big coal trade for internal transport for domestic purposes, boats also played a big role, either going via canal or down the East Coast of Great Britain to the London Docks. This route would become vulnerable to German attack in the World Wars, particularly in the second war from fast torpedo boats known to the British as "E-boats"; the East Coast convoys are a lesser-known part of the naval war, with Patrick Troughton having served with Coastal Force Command.

The Mayor of Gloucester, like most civic mayors in England, is the chair of the council, elected to a one-year term by their fellow councillors. The current holder is Conservative councillor Lorraine Campbell. It's a mostly ceremonial role involving going to various events while wearing a red cloak and a big hat:

Gloucester's Deputy Mayor is called the Sheriff of Gloucester. There is still a Sheriff of Nottingham, by the way.

The Anglophone Canadian accent was historically noticeably different to an American one and of course had its own varieties. They've gotten closer over the decades, especially due to television.

Sir Henry would have limited luggage space on the ship over, so three pairs of boots would be reasonable. He'd have to ship over anything else at further cost, so it could be cheaper to buy new in London.

Deliveries of telegrams that weren't in the immediate area of the office cost extra. Bradshaw's Guide for Tourists in Great Britain and Ireland would state the nearest telegraph office for a town, as the 1866 edition demonstrates:

Sir Charles' estate was worth around £80m in today's money, but that would not even get him onto The Sunday Times Rich List, which starts at £350m (Sir Lewis Hamilton, i.e. the F1 driver). It tops out with Gopichand Hinduja and his family at an estimated £37.2 billion, whose conglomerate is many focussed on India, but also are the biggest shareholders in US chemical company Quaker Houghton.

Westmoreland was a historical county in Northern England; it was absorbed into Cumbria in 1974, but its area became part of the Westmoreland and Furness unitary authority in 2023.

"Entailed" means that Sir Charles has stipulated in a legal document that the Baskerville estate would have to pass to Sir Henry's heir intact. This was a feudal era practice that has now been abolished in most jurisdictions, with limited remaining use in England and Wales. Simply put Sir Henry is not allowed to sell the house or the land, even part of it. He can do what he likes with the cash and probably the chattels, the movable property like the candlesticks and the toasting forks.

This page covers it in relation to the works of Jane Austen with relevant spoilers:

Borough is another name for the area of Southwark. It got a Tube station in 1890, when the City and South London Railway opened, now the Bank branch of the Northern line. It also is famous for Borough Market, then a wholesale food market under cover of buildings from the 1850s. Today it is a retail market for specialty food; kind of like a farmers' market.

In 1888, the 10:30 from Paddington would get to Exeter at 15:35, a journey of five hours. @myemuisemo provides route maps. I would add at this point, GWR services to SW England went via Bristol, adding a lot of time to the journey, while the LSWR route from Waterloo was a lot more direct. Wags dubbed the former "the Great Way Round". The construction of two cut-off lines allowed the GWR to go via Westbury and Castle Cary.

I will cover the modern day condition of the route in my Chapter 6 post.

The GWR still had some broad-gauge track at 2,140 mm(7 ft 1⁄4 in) left that Brunel had favoured, but this would be finally eliminated in 1892.

Finally, Holmes is referencing the sport of fencing when he learns the cabbie has been given his name. The foil is the lightest of the three swords used in competitive fencing, such as the Olympics.

In an age before electronic fencing equipment, point scoring relied on the eyesight of the umpire... and the honesty of the competitions.

I was in my fencing club at university. I can't say I was that great. I preferred the epee, which doesn't have the priority rules...