#empire siblings were unexpected but appreciated

[earlgreytiefling]

My fave Critical Role quotes/ moments of c3: A Thread (11)

•Why have bare feet when you can have ✨bear feet✨- Taliesin, 46

•Fearne: If you look closely the curtains are skin

Travis: SKIN???

Fearne: Yeah but i painted them so they look beautiful :) -46

•(Looking at the flowers in the feywild)

Fearne: I made these, these are my design :)

FCG: i didn’t really think you were proficient in nature

[cue laugh track] -46

•Ashton: Alright, this is gonna be a little stoned cos i admit that drink hit hard

Orym, quietly: You’re always a little stoned -46

•I lost my father and husband to these people. I’m not on board. - Orym, 46

•Who are they, who are we to decide who lives or dies? God, or mortal, or otherwise. - Orym, 46

•FCG microwave form makes Eshteross’ cookies- 46

•Running joke of Matt scaring the party with Creature Incoming! noises and every time it just being a random animal friend of Fearne- 46

•Don’t-ing - 46

•Am I human, or am I Dancer’s - FCG, 47

•RHYME TIME - 48

•Big ship, small town- 48

•Imogen: Shall we just take a side note and do Chet backstory instead of doing this

Chet: LOOK AT THE SKY LETS FUCKIN FOCUS PEOPLE - 49

•Imogen: What if it’s not so bad?… What if what we’re doing is just fighting change?

Orym: Well, Imogen, I wish my family didn’t have to die for her brighter tomorrow. - 49

•Ash, to Laudna: Y’know this is one of the things we both have in common. That’s we’ve both died.- 49

•Liam and Marisha hearing “hood” and immediately going feral - 50

•BADASS MONK AND DIRT WIZARD ARE HERE- 50

•Liam catapulting himself onto the floor at Caleb’s arrival- 50

•Ashley, regarding Fearne not meeting Empire Siblings: I’m so jealous. I would have flirted so hard!!- 50

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[rebelsandtherest]

Eldest

Rating: PG (some language)

Words: 9521

Characters: Matthew (Canada), Jack (Australia), Zee (New Zealand), Alfred (USA)

Summary: Matthew is having a hard time after an unexpected and costly springtime blizzard. His younger siblings aren't sure how to get through to him, so they call in the cavalry.

Warnings: Mentions of depression

Read on Ao3 if you like

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Jack and his sister Zee were, by an appreciable margin, the youngest members of the complicated family tree that orbited Arthur Kirkland. However, since they’d reached adulthood (in body if not in spirit) this hadn’t been a common point of interest for well over a century. Sat alongside their elder brother Matthew across the table from a gaggle of Celts and Saxons who could exchange stories of Roman emperors as though they’d bumped into them at the local Tescos last week, the age difference between the three former colonies melted away to the point they could at times act like an odd set of triplets. 

However, when you got right down to it, both Jack and Zee would always regard Matt as the elder brother. Zee and Jack flip-flopped on who fulfilled the older role between the two of them (a mantle most often shouldered by Zee, notwithstanding that she was in reality younger than Jack), but once Matthew Williams stepped in the room, the hierarchy of siblings rearranged itself to affectionately accommodate the Eldest Brother. 

Matthew had practically raised both Jack and Zee when they were very small. He’d been a young but fully grown man when Zee was still learning her letters, when dear old Arthur couldn’t make head or tails of what Jack was trying to tell him through his riptide of an accent—then whistled by missing teeth—until Matthew had to translate that there was a tarantula and on the back of Arthur’s shirt. It had been Matt who taught Jack to shoot a rifle, Matt who taught Zee how to ski when snow clung her mountain ranges in the July winter. It was Matt who’d scolded them to hell and back when they attacked each other, Matt who’d made them apologize and part as friends. Matt who told them bedtime stories, Matt who bandaged their cuts and bound their sprains and blew raspberries in their baby-fat cheeks until they laughed again. Always Matt who took the brunt, who shouldered the family burdens, who shielded his younger siblings from whatever maelstroms the empire had brewing a hemisphere away. 

Even now, centuries later, with all of them grown, independent members of the commonwealth, the unspoken order of the universe still dictated that it was Matt who did the parenting, and Jack and Zee who were parented. 

Therefore, when Matt decided to stop acting like a responsible adult, the universe glitched, and neither Jack nor Zee knew the cheat codes that would set reality back to rights.

It had all started two days ago, when Jack’s flight from Vancouver to Sydney was canceled due to weather. It was hardly unheard of—it’d happened to him once or twice before, albeit never so late in the year. He’d planned his ski trip to the Canadian Rockies in order to escape the still-boiling autumn of his capital. He’d told Matt he would be northside, of course, but when the Canadian hadn’t texted back, he’d shrugged shoulders and assumed Matt was busy. Matt was often busy, and Jack respected that.

But when a freak blizzard swept eastwards across North America and Jack’s flight home was delayed not once, but twice, the Australian decided to cut his losses, postpone his return entirely, and trek over to Ottawa to drop in on his Canadian brother—who he hadn’t seen outside of European boardrooms in many years—for a surprise visit.

This had been, in retrospect, the wrong decision. Or the right decision. In the end, Jack hoped it was the right decision for Matthew, but it was most certainly the wrong decision for him. His prime minister had left eight voicemails so far asking why it was taking him so long to return to Canberra, and Jack didn’t know how to explain that he’d been waylaid by discovering the national embodiment of Canada buried in a Depression Cave of his own making, and how he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave him there unattended. 

“What the fuck do we do now?” Jack asked, spying around the edge of the door frame for a last glance at the dragon’s lair before retreating back to safety and the troubled countenance of his little sister.

“Hell if I know,” The New Zealander said softly, not hiding as she looked into Matt’s desecrated bedroom with lines of concern framing her features. “You said he’s been like this for… when did you get here?”

“Three days ago.”

“Jesus christ.”

“Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on the futon, eating his food and ordering delivery the whole time.”

“And he didn’t notice?” Zee sounded skeptical. Jack spread his hands in a helpless gesture. 

“If he didn’t he didn’t stop me! He’s not said a fuckin’ word to me ‘cept when I try to get him out of bed.”

“What’d he say then?”

“Jesus, I dunno, something in French, I stepped in the room to hear him better and he threatened to turn me into a headline.”

“Matt said that?” Zee asked, looking infuriatingly like Arthur.

“Bugger me sideways, woman, the fuck else you want me to say?” Zee glared at him, but for once, Jack held his ground. His sister turned her eyes back to Matt’s darkened bedroom, and she sighed.

“Shit,” she said. At that moment, Buddy, Matt’s great fluffy samoyed dog, chose to amble out of the corner of Matt’s bedroom and towards the back door, where he pawed to be let out. Looking unsurprised, Jack went over to open the door.

“Is he allowed to-” Zee pointed a finger from the house to the door.

“Hell if I know,” Jack shrugged, watching Buddy march out the door at a sluggish pace and careful not to catch his long white fur as he slid the door shut. “Not like Matt’s going to tell me. He hasn’t eaten the neighbors kids yet, so,” he shrugged. Zee sighed and went to join Jack by the door, now far enough away from Matt’s room that the white noise of the Canadian’s space heater was replaced by deafening silence. She worried her hand across her mouth and chin not unlike Arthur would, brow tense and creased in the middle.

“This is bad,” she said. Jack nearly smacked his own forehead out of frustration.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“What do you want me to say?!” Zee hissed, turning to glare at him.

“I don’t know,” Jack hissed back. “But surely you can think of… something, right?”

“Why me?! Do you honestly think I have any better idea of what to do than you do?”

“You always have a better idea of what to do,” Jack insisted. Zee scoffed.

“When it’s a question of “should I pick up this poisonous sea slug-”

“That’s not fair, I didn’t know you had poisonous sea slugs-”

“-of course I have a better idea, but this? What am I supposed to do?” She gestured around them, “why the hell did you even call me?” Seeing her point but unwilling to concede, Jack crossed his arms petulantly.

“If you’re that upset about it, why’d you even come?”

“Because you said you needed help, you bunghole! I thought you’d broken your knees or lost your passport or something! You didn’t say that Matt needed help.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to say!”

“Jesus, Jackie, ‘Matt needs help’, three bloody words, would that have been so hard?”

“Well who would you’ve called? Arthur? It’d be a fuckin’ week before he’d have time to fly out here.”

“Of course not, idiot, I would’ve called…” Zee’s voice suddenly trailed off as a thought occurred to her. She flicked her eyes up to Jack, who caught on after a moment of confusion. Frustration gave way to hesitant hope.

“Is he even at home?”

“I mean, probably?”

“Don’t you think he would’ve known about this in the first place?”

“You didn’t.”

“Well no, but it’s not like I live next door.” Jack glanced back at Matt’s room, back at his sister. 

“He’d come, wouldn’t he?” She asked him.

“It’s Matt,” he said.

“Right. You have his number?”

“Well yeah, but…” Jack looked sheepish, “I kinda… racked up a hefty bill texting you, I was kinda hoping—”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” she pulled out her phone. Buddy scratched at the door, and Jack went over to let him in and clean his snow-wet paws while Zee scrolled her contacts and put the phone to her ear. It only rang for a handful of seconds.

“Hey Kiwi, what’s up? And why the hell are you up at 5am? Isn’t it a Saturday there?”

Zee heaved a relieved sigh, “In Wellington sure, but I’m in Ottawa.”

“What! You’re up north and you didn’t tell me?! I'm hurt!” Zee opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance. “Also you chose a helluva week to be there, it usually doesn’t blizzard this late in the year.”

“Uhuh I know, but that’s not why I’m—”

“Have you spoken to Matt? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for days. I thought he was going to be down by Niagara last week and I thought about going up there but he never texted me back—”

“Yeah that’s why I was calling y—”

“I figured he was busy, but if he’s been hosting you in Ottawa—”

“Damnit, Yankee, just shut up a minute!” Zee shouted.

“Oh. Sorry, Zee.” And damn him, his kicked puppy drawl almost made her feel guilty. She took a steadying breath. 

“What’s with the accent, anyway?”

“Oh sorry, I’m in San Antonio. The good taco stalls don’t serve blond gringos the spicy shit unless they sound local.”

Zee rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Whatever. San Antonio. That’s… what, a seven hour flight to Canada? Six?”

“I mean, if you’re talking commercial, it’s somewhere ‘round there. Why?”

“We may need your help here in Ottawa.”

“We?”

“Jack and I—”

“What! You’re telling me you and Oz have both been a hop and a skip from the States and no one told me?”

“We didn’t plan it, it’s… listen, Matt needs help and we don’t know what to do.” The line went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was jarringly serious.

“Help how? What happened?” Zee’s shoulders relaxed. Alfred Jones was obnoxious at the best of times, but when he decided to be competent, she knew he could handle just about anything. 

“The last week happened. It’s been a helluva time, like you said. He won’t come out of his room, won’t eat, threatened to turn Jack into a hashtag, apparently.”

“Headline,” Jack corrected. Zee made a face and waved her hand dismissively at him.

“Aaaah fuck,” Alfred said, “Got that double depresso espresso huh. How bad is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘how bad is it’?”

“I mean like what level of depression cave are we talking? How many half-smoked doobs are on his bedside table?”

“What does that- I don’t know!”

“Does he have any empty wine bottles in there, or just cigarettes?”

“He won’t even let us in the door, Alfred, I don’t know how to—”

“Right, right, okay, how’s the smell?”

“Of his room?”

“Yeah.” Zee took a sniff; even from a distance the half-open doorway offered whiffs of odor.

“Kinda like a sweaty ashtray got fucked by a skunk,” she told him.

“Ah, hell, it’s bad, then. Jeez, I wouldn’t’ve thought a blizzard would’ve taken him out like that. Something else must’ve made it worse. Ugh, and I just got here, too…” The American heaved a sigh. Zee held her breath. “Alright, I reckon I can be there in three or four hours in the Cessna.” Relieved she hadn’t had to ask, Zee’s shoulders relaxed.

“You’ll come up, then?” Jack looked up when he heard this, watching Zee’s expression carefully.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Zee gave Jack a thumbs up, and the Australian pumped his fist in relieved joy. “I gotta make a few pit stops first though… hey, I’m gonna pick up some barbecue, you or Jack want any?”

“Jack, you want any barbecue?” She asked. Her brother perked up.

“What kind?”

“Texas.”

“Fucken yeah I do.” Zee relayed their preferences and thanked Alfred for being willing to ditch his taco plans to help Matt.

“Anything for the baby bro,” Alfred joked, “see y’all in a few hours.” The call ended and left Zee feeling bemused; somehow, she’d entirely forgotten that Alfred was older than Matt.

“Do you think he keeps air freshener anywhere around here?” Jack asked aloud, opening kitchen cabinets and craning his neck to see all the contents. “This place is rank.”

Three or four hours later, Matt’s Ontario home still smelled of sweat, smoke, and old weed. Jack had eventually located “some kinda cashed up frog lavender shit” which he’d sprayed liberally in the hopes that it would mask the odor. It did not. With much cursing, Zee had cracked windows to air out the space, after closing Matt’s door so the Canadian would not grow (more) irritable when he felt that they were allowing cold air in rather than letting him stew in the smell of his own depression.

Once the cool became unbearable, Zee began closing the windows once more, and was nearly done when keys rattled at the front door. Upon hearing the noise, Buddy, who’d been piled miserably onto Jack’s lap for belly pats, perked up for the first time since the Anzacs had arrived, and left the living room for the entryway. Jack followed, and turned the corner just in time to see Alfred Jones backing into the house, carrying multiple bags and a large styrofoam cooler. Buddy was there waiting for him, tail wagging slowly.

“Hey, Buddy,” Alfred smiled down at the dog, toeing off his snowy shoes. 

“Oh thank fuck you’re here,” Jack said. Alfred looked up when he heard the Aussie’s voice. 

“Hey, man—not a headline yet, I see,” He grinned, and then looked back down at buddy as he moved further into the house. “Careful, dude, I don’t want to squish you with groceries.” 

“You need help?” Jack asked.

“Nah, I got it. I don’t have plates for the barbeque though.”

“I’ll get ‘em,” Jack said, relieved to be able to do something. He went to the kitchen and Alfred followed. Although he was barely able to see past his cargo, the American navigated to the kitchen table without needing to look and set down his bags just in time for Zee to come in from the hall.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here,” she said. Alfred snorted, and glanced back at Jack. “Gee, it’s almost like you two are related. Hey Kiwi,” Flashing a fond, all-American grin, Alfred stepped forward to give her a hug. Though she would never admit it, Zee had never been happier to be crushed by Alfred “sorry I forgot to not hug too hard” Jones, and gave him a few pats before pushing him away, shrugging helplessly.

“I’ve never seen him like this, I’m sorry for bothering you, but Jack didn’t know what to do so he called me, and I didn’t know what to do, and we weren’t sure you were free but-”

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize, it’s alright, it happens, I’m glad you called. Where is he? Still in his room?”

“Yeah.” Alfred nodded.

“That tracks.”

“Where’s the food?” Jack was holding a plate in both hands and leaning predatorily around Alfred’s arm, eyes searching through the pile of things he’d left on the table.

“Jack,” Zee reprimanded, “he just got here.”

“I’m hungry!”  Alfred only snorted.

“In the cooler. I call dibs on the barkiest brisket, otherwise have at it.”

“What, the charry bits?”

“Yup. Hey, quick question, which one of you is the better baker?” Zee raised her hand at the exact moment Jack pointed at her, not looking up from the styrofoam cooler. “Cool,” Alfred dug around in one of the tote bags and produced a large, very old ceramic pie pan which contained two plastic-wrapped disks of dough. “He’s got a rolling pin somewhere around here—bottom drawer to the left of the oven, I think—could you roll these out and set the oven to 375?”

“Oh,” Zee took the dish in surprise. Of all solutions she’d expected Alfred to offer, pastry hadn’t been one of them. “Sure.”

“Mate, what the hell did you wrap this in?” Jack was hard at work excavating his dinner from the cooler, which contained a dense package wrapped in what appeared to be thick gold tinfoil.

“Satellite grade mylar,” Alfred bragged with a boyish grin.

“What?” Jack looked up at him, and Alfred nodded, grinning wider. 

“Got a whole stockpile of it—reject batches from NASA, they just let me walk off with it. I swear it’s the most useful shit.” Jack turned back to the barbeque with a manic grin.

“Sick,” he praised.

“It should still be plenty hot. But tell you what, before you dig in would you mind turning on the bathtub to get the water warmed up?”

“Uh… sure,” Jack said, glancing down at the hall to the washroom, which was next door to Matt’s bedroom. “...why?” he asked apprehensively. Alfred shrugged off his old bomber jacket and hung it off the corner of a chairback. 

“Because I can smell him from here,” he said, rolling up the sleeves on his flannel. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Why isn’t the heat on? And why does it smell like rotten lavender?” He spoke as if musing to himself, and went over to the thermostat to turn up the dial. 

Jack was too out of his depth to feel embarrassed about standing there waiting for Alfred to go first towards Matt’s room before he followed. He scuttled to the safety of the washroom while Alfred continued on fearlessly toward Matthew’s door.

“Maaa-tieee,” Alfred sing-songed, rapping his knuckles against the door in a cheery rhythm. “How ya doin’, kiddo?”

“Va te faiire foutre, tas de merde!” Matt’s voice burst from inside. Jack’s French vocabulary consisted almost entirely of curse words and insults, which allowed him to understand most of what Matt had said, but even if he hadn’t known that Matt had called his brother a pile of shit and told him to fuck off, his tone alone would’ve certainly kept Jack from knocking again. 

“Aww, I missed you too,” Alfred laughed, and Jack couldn’t believe how unbothered he was. Alfred did speak French, didn’t he? “Welp, I’m coming in, so if you’re planning on throwing anything at me, now’s your time to aim.” Seated on the edge of the bathtub, Jack turned on the faucet and craned his neck to peer out the doorway.

“Je vais t'en tabarnaker une si tu continues!”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Alfred opened the door and let himself in. Jack watched a wine bottle fly past and shatter in the main hall.

“I hope that didn’t have anything left in it, it’ll neve come out of the rug. Jesus, Mattie, did you smoke an entire dispensary in here?” There was more indistinct French grumbling. “No dice, bucko. You are getting out of bed and you are getting into the bathtub. I might even have a fun surprise for you as a reward.”

“No one asked you to be here,” Matt switched to English.

“Yes they did, you got both Anzacs all the way up here and they’re worried about you, you dramatic bastard.” Alfred turned and shouted back, “Heya Jack, how’s the bath?” The Australian started, suddenly realizing he had an actual job aside from eavesdropping.

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s good, mate, ‘bout warm enough I reckon.”

“Perfect.”

“John Christian Kelly you fucking traitor,” Matt moaned, and Jack was suddenly a teenager again, feeling like the worst brother in the world.

“O ho, breaking out the passport names? Be nice to the kid, asshole. Let go of the duvet. Come on, Matt, you’re not an infant. Get up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I will drag you out if I have to.”

“Non.”

Jack took the opportunity to plug the tub to let it fill before swiftly fleeing the scene. If things started flooding, he decided, that was very much an Alfred problem.

“Let go,” the American was saying.

“T’es donc ben niaiseux!”

“I can be more niaiseux if you’d like,” Alfred said, and there were sounds of a struggle.

“Alfred put me the fuck down!”

“I warned you!—Ow! Put your goddamn claws away, I’m trying to help you, you jerk,”

“It’s cold,” Matt complained, voice louder now. From a safe distance, Jack could see Alfred carrying Matt tossed over one shoulder, the Canadian’s limbs caught halfway between koala-hugging a duvet and beating at Alfred’s front and back with ineffective flailing.

“Which is why your wonderful, thoughtful, caring big brother thought to turn the bath ahead of time.”

“It’ll still be cooold,” Matt whined, even as Alfred marched him into the washroom.

“Upsy-daisy,”

“Alfre-AH! Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“If I set you on your feet are you going to punch me?”

“I’ll kill you,”

“Well in that case,” there was a giant splash. Jack gasped and covered his mouth. Zee had wandered over to eavesdrop, hands still coated in flour.

“You idiot! My duvet!”

“Needs to be washed just as badly as you do, genius. Give it here, I’ll put it in the washer. And look—I even brought that stupid sissy French soap you like so much. You do remember how to use soap, right?”

“Fuck you,”

“You’re very welcome. Now strip, pretty sure those clothes should be incinerated at this point.”

“I’m not stripping in front of you.”

“If I leave, are you going to take them off?”

“....I’m not stripping in front of you.”

“Have it your way,” Alfred said.

“What the- get your hands off of me, you pervert!”

“You’re my brother, Matt. And you call me a prude. Take them off or I will take them off for you, how do you even stand that smell?” 

“I hate you.”

“I know, we can talk about it later. Now give ‘em here.” Some splashing and cursing ensued, but at the end of it all, Alfred emerged from the bathroom half soaked but victorious, a pile of soggy bedclothes and pajamas in his arms. “Do not get out of that tub until you’ve washed your hair twice!” 

Alfred carried the aforementioned duvet and soggy clothes and dumped them in a pile in the laundry room before returning to Matt’s bedroom and gathering up all the other laundry he could find. 

“Does he have a broom anywhere, or…?” Jack asked, gesturing to the shattered wine bottle shards.

“Don’t worry about it, man, go eat. I’ll take care of it.” And take care of it he must have, because Zee and Jack sat quite peacefully in the kitchen for some time, eating barbeque and listening to the sounds of American hustling and bustling from down the hall. Only once they’d heard eight or ten dustpan fulls of rubbish rattle into the bin and the washing machine click on for the second time did Alfred return to the kitchen, not a hair out of place or a bead of sweat in sight.

“Oh, that’s perfect! Thanks, Zee,” he said upon seeing the pastry disks rolled out on the counter. Though Zee had rolled them out some time ago, they remained cold  and malleable thanks to how cold the house remained. 

“Are they big enough for what you wanted?”

“Yeah, they’re great, thanks.” Alfred rifled through the pile of tote bags and carried a large bundle of fruit to the counter, gathering up bowls, cutting boards, and knives before dumping it all on his workspace before raiding Matt’s spice cabinet.

“What is it you’re making, anyway?”

“Pie!” Alfred said cheerily, untying a canvas sack and carefully corralling the colorful pile of apples that rolled out. “Apple pie. It’s his favorite.” Jack frowned. To that exact moment, Jack hadn’t ever known Matt to have favored pie any more than the next man, certainly not enough to classify it as his favorite. 

“Really?” He asked aloud.

“Yeah,” Alfred told him, “I used to make it all the time for him when he was—oh, speak of the devil, look who’s rejoined society.” Jack and Zee turned to see Matt standing in the kitchen doorway, bundled up in slippers, fleece PJs, a bathrobe, with a towel wrapped still around his hair. With a squinted expression, no hint of a smile, and bags under his eyes, Matt’s presence made Jack lean away, ever so slightly.

“Feel any better, kiddo?” Alfred asked, slicing apples. Zee shot a look at Jack. 

Kiddo? She mouthed, eyes wide and flicking to Matt to see how their brother would respond to the moniker. Jack shrugged, just as confused as she was. He watched the scene surreptitiously while helping another dinner roll onto his plate. 

To the Anzac’s shock, Matt didn’t respond to Alfred’s comment at all, and his sheepskin slippers hissed across the hardwood as he shuffled over to where Alfred was calmly moving handfuls of thin apple slices into a large glass mixing bowl. The American didn’t look up as Matt came to loom over his shoulder, watching the process in silence. Though Matt was a few centimeters taller than Alfred—especially with a towel piled atop his head—he was hunched over and curled in on himself enough that when he chose to lean forward onto his brother, his mouth and nose fell onto the back of Alfred’s right shoulder. The American glanced at his brother briefly before returning attention to his work.

“You smell nice,” he said quietly, and though Zee could hear it clearly she suddenly felt as though she were eavesdropping. “Feel better?”

“Mmph,” Matt mumbled into Alfred’s shoulder, eyes following the movement of his knife, the apples to the bowl.  

“Sorry for dunking you. You don’t have to forgive me until later.” Matt let out an angrier grunt at that, but stayed where he was, standing close to his brother’s warmth and watching him slice apples with centuries-old experience.

“What kind?” He asked at length. Alfred finished with the last apple and pushed his cutting board aside and began mixing the slices in the bowl, blending the greens, browns, and reds all in amongst each other.

“Roxbury russet, Rhode Island greening, and,” He turned his head to look at Matt when he said, smiling softly, “some snow apples, too.” The Canadian’s eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. 

“Tu as trouvé la Fameuse?”

“Well,” Alfred smirked, looking back at his work. “I took a cutting from your place back in the 50s. Wasn’t sure if you ever noticed. I’ve had these in my cellar since the fall.” Matt made a surprised noise, but otherwise did not reply. Alfred allowed him to lean against his shoulder for some time more as he sprinkled in spices, lemon, and butter shavings, but eventually shrugged his shoulder so it would shake Matthew off his back.

“Go eat something,” He said softly, elbowing in the vague direction of the table where Zee and Jack sat with their barbeque. “I brought you klobasnek.” Jack himself had no idea what a klobasnek was, but Matt’s interest seemed to be piqued, and without so much as a thank you he shuffled zombie-like away from Alfred towards the food. “It’s in a paper bag, left side of the cooler,” Alfred offered helpfully, and Matt grunted in acknowledgement as he dug.

Zee and Jack watched Matt scavenge for his mystery dinner with a measure of wariness. Having lived with a porcupine of a brother for the last several hours and days, it was jarring to see him standing upright and quiet and… docile. After some raccoonish digging in the aforementioned cooler, Matt emerged grasping what looked like a long doughy bun—klobasnek, Zee concluded—with sausage and cheese leaking out the end. He bit into it, sighed, and fell into a seat across the table from Zee. Beside him, Jack had paused mid-chew to make sure the Canadian posed no danger before returning to his brisket. 

Matt sat there, holding his still-steaming Texas fare with both hands, elbows on the table, head bending to take bites like a bobbing bird in water, while Alfred continued with his peeling and coring of apples. After a while, the American began to whistle. Neither Jack nor Zee recognized the tune, but Matt’s robotic munching faltered and he let out a huff that a depressed person could have interpreted as a laugh.

Uneasy next to the unfamiliar doppelgänger of his usually mild-mannered brother, Jack inhaled the last of his food and stood, busying himself by clearing away dishes and repacking the remains of the food. Cleaned and fed or not, Matt was still emanating the murdery vibes of a trapped animal, and Jack had enough experience around dangerous animals to know better. 

Zee stayed where she was, too fascinated with this version of Matt to look away. 

“What’s in that, anyway?” She ventured, addressing Matt. Matt regarded his meal and continued to chew. 

“Al?” He croaked around a mouthful. 

“Mm?”

“What’s in this?”

“Kolache dough, sausage, cheese, Canadian-safe levels of jalapeños, and a century’s worth of Czech-American love,” the American said, popping an apple shard into his mouth. Matt looked up at Zee.

“That,” he said, looking like a bear who’d come out of hibernation early and wasn’t happy about it. Zee did not want to push her luck further by asking what kolache meant, so she quietly Googled it on her phone.

Just as Matt was down to the last few bites, a kettle began to whistle, and Alfred paused his pie making to pour the hot water into a large teapot and set an honest-to-god tea timer.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make tea,” Zee teased. Alfred shrugged his shoulders as he returned to his baking.

“The only time I don’t know how to make tea is when Arthur’s in the room,” he replied, growing a roguish smirk, “It’s the weirdest thing, I always end up confusing the sugar with sea salt.”

In his strongest display of emotion since bathtime, Matthew rolled his eyes and said something exasperated and French under his breath. Alfred glanced over at him, hands still working the rolling pin without needing to look. 

“Wow, Mattie, was that a facial expression?” Matt did not respond, but Alfred only chuckled and returned to his work. 

Precisely three minutes and fifty seconds later,  Alfred was hoisting his pie—which had to be taller than most all apple pies Zee had ever seen—into the oven. It was hard to judge how heavy the pie was since Zee had once seen Alfred Jones lift the front end of a lorry with one hand, but she squinted at it anyway, attempting to calculate the volume of the dish, the diameter of pastry she’d rolled out, wondering how much apple pie Alfred thought Matt would actually eat. 

Zee’s mental math was interrupted when Jack returned to the table and took the open seat next to his sister, sliding a mug of tea her way. This left Alfred the seat next to Matt, but the American did not sit down. After taking a large gulp of (heavily sweetened) tea, he set down his mug and stood behind Matt, where he began to pick at the twisted towel atop his head until the Canadian’s mostly-dry curls fell out over his face. Matt did not react and sipped at his tea.

“Ne touchez pas à mes cheveux.,” Matt warned.

“I’m not gonna,” Alfred said, petulance but no real venom in his voice. “Now drink your tea, you fussy papist.” Zee almost choked on her tea, but Matt only mumbled indistinctly into his tea and endured his brother’s careful attention. 

Jack and Zee fell into the contented, quiet trance of a commonwealth citizen at their tea. It took a while for Zee to notice that Matt, more than being catatonic from depression and placated with tea, was actually nodding off as Alfred gently tugged at his curls, pulling at the knots that remained and carefully parting his hair so it would dry in a comfortable pattern. 

“Ne vous couchez pas tout de suite, votre couette n'a pas fini de sécher..” Alfred instructed. It’d been a while since Zee had heard Alfred speak anything but English, and his accent had a open, relaxed kind of swing to it that Matt’s did not.

“Mm,” Matt grunted, eyes now fully closed, hands cupping his tea for its last dregs of warmth. “Vous parlez français comme un bébé élan qui se promène,” he said, which made Alfred grin. 

“Aww, vous me trouvez adorable? Merci.” Matt sighed, which made Alfred smile wider. “Lorsque j'en aurai fini avec ça, vous devriez aller chercher votre chien, vous lui manquez.”

“Hmm,” Matt seemed content enough to stay where he was, body swaying ever so slightly to the gentle tugs and scratches on his scalp, “okay.” 

At length, once Matt had finished his tea and Alfred had sufficiently teased out Matt’s hair to dry, the American stepped away and gave his brother a light pat on the arm. Matt sighed and, with a concerted effort, stood to his feet and allowed Alfred to shepherd him to the living room, where he collapsed onto the long sofa there. Buddy immediately jumped up on him, knocking him back and winding him, which made Alfred laugh.

“Hi, bud,” Matt grumbled, and allowed the dog to sprawl out on top of him, inching up on his chest until he could lick the man’s face. Matt scratched behind his ears while Alfred teased the fire back up to a roaring flame.

Jack and Zee spied on the scene from the doorway, neither noticing the other’s presence until Alfred spotted them and they nearly bumped heads when they jumped.

“Oh, stop hovering,” Alfred said quietly, shooing his younger siblings away from the doorway as he went back through to the kitchen and closed the door behind. “Honestly, it’s not like he’s going to bite."

“Maybe not you,” Jack grumbled under his breath, and Zee would’ve smacked him except that he was right. Alfred didn’t appear to hear, and was instead looking through the glass of the oven and mumbling to himself. He tapped something into his smartwatch and looked back up at his Anzac companions. He gave a quick but emphatic sigh, and quietly clapped his hands together.

“Alright, he’s bound to fall asleep any minute, Buddy’ll keep him occupied for the next couple of hours. In the meantime, Zee, I need you to make up his bed—oh, and be sure to close the windows and turn the space heater back on, I was letting it air out. Jack, I need you to start washing up the kitchen and start clearing out the fridge. I’ll clean the bathroom and get more firewood. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” said Zee. When Jack said nothing, the kiwi smacked him in the side. “Oi, mate,”

“Hmm?” Jack shook himself, having been too preoccupied by how Alfred’s focused, frowning expression looked so exactly like Arthur that he forgot to listen to whatever the man had said. “Sorry, what?”

“Dumb cunt,” Zee scoffed, which earned her an affronted look from Alfred. She ignored him and grabbed a towel off the counter, slapping it on Jack’s chest. “Dishes, fridge, now.”

“Oh, sure,” Jack caught the towel and looked around the kitchen, as if seeing it for the first time. Alfred 

“Thanks, guys, seriously, you’ve been a huge help,” Alfred said, gathering a few cleaning supplies before retreating to the bathroom.

“We’re being a big help,” Jack chuckled as he gathered dirty dishes to the sink, “I feel like a toddler trying to help out with the baking,” he turned on the water and watched suds begin to churn in the saucepan, still encrusted with old kraft dinner, “being told jolly good for getting flour all over the floor.”

“I’m not going to  complain,” Zee muttered from the nearby laundry room, hauling Matt’s copious amount of bedding out of the dryer and piling them together.

“I won’t either, but fuck, mate, has he sat down since he got here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s not even been here 4 hours, and he’s got the entire house cleaned up. It’s like he’s done this before.”

“Something tells me he has,” Zee stepped out of the laundry room, unable to see above the mountain range of bedding in her arms.

“I mean, if Matt got like this often enough to give the Yankee practice, then surely we would’ve seen him like this at least once before, right?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister as she shuffled her way to the hall, trying not to bump into anything. 

“I dunno,” she said distractedly, “depends on how long Al’s been practicing. I forget how old those cunts are, sometimes.” Jack did too, but didn’t want to admit the fact that he had no clue how old Alfred was, and didn’t realize he’d forgotten until that exact moment. He struggled to dredge up the Arthur’s Boring History Lessons Slash Rants portion of his memory. Alfred had always featured heavily in those.

“Ya know,” Jack mused instead, hands soapy as he squinted at nothing, “I don’t think I can picture Matt as a baby.”

“And sometimes, I can’t picture you as an adult,”

“Hey.” 

----------------------- 

Alfred finished with the bathroom in short order, and took no break before re-donning his coat and his boots to slip out the back door to gather more firewood before the mid-afternoon sunset. Matt seemed to have had burned through most of the stockpile near his house, so Alfred took the toboggan leaned up by the door and dragged it out to the firewood shed that stood a safe distance from the house.

“Jesus, Mattie, why do you keep it all the way out here,” Alfred grumbled, although he knew the answer, because he’d been there when a lightning bolt and a shed full of timber had nearly set Matt’s house ablaze. “My ankles are wet,” he complained anyway. “Can’t believe a blizzard knocked you out, for real. I mean, seriously, dude, it’s not like you get them every two sec….onds.” Alfred stopped as he rounded the corner of the shed. “Oh. Oh. Oh, Mattie.”

----------------------- 

Zee was leaning across Matt’s bed to finish fluffing up Matt’s pillows—and Jesus Christ did this man owned a lot of pillows—when a tapping on the window startled her so badly she faceplanted directly into the pillows. She marched over and yanked the curtain aside, revealing Alfred Jones cupping his face to the fogging glass.

“What?” she griped, annoyed at him for giving her such a start. With a gloved hand, he pointed sideways, towards where she knew the rear door to the house was. He made an additional “come on” gesture, and she waved him away before meeting him at the backdoor.

“Hey, sorry,” he said as soon as she slid open the door. He was soaked from the knee down and was hauling a toboggan impossibly laden with firewood to the doorstep. “I don’t wanna track mud everywhere. Would you mind bringing some of this inside? I gotta go back out.”

“For what?” Zee asked, eyeing the tower of firewood that was sure to last them a day and a half, at least. 

“Gotta chop up some more wood,” he said, already trudging back through the path he’d plowed to the shed. 

“Alfred, I’m pretty sure we have enough for—”

“Thanks, Kiwi!”

--------- 

Jack had a strong stomach, so he was completely unfazed by the menagerie of molds that awaited him inside of Matt’s fridge. Even when he had to dispose of the half-full pitcher of clumpy, curdled milk, he remained unaffected by the neglected fridge and its contents.

The oven and its contents, on the other hand, was a different story. Jack inhaled deeply through his nose, and could not help but give a guttural groan as his head filled with baking apples and spices.

“I swear to god, if he doesn’t let me eat it as soon as it's out I’m gonna get crook.”

“It’s for Matt,” Zee reminded him, even though she was stationed at the oven staring intently through the window, mouth watering involuntarily. “Besides, the filling’s bubbling,” Jack moaned with longing, “you’d burn your face off.” Jack dumped another bag of spoiled food into the bin, and on his way back to the fridge paused at Zee’s side to press his face in close and stare at the bubbling apple pie with her. Mesmerized, he lingered.

“He’d better fucking give me the recipe to this,” Zee muttered. As if on cue, the back door opened and shut with a slam. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Alfred was chanting, fumbling to get out of his boots and and dripping snow pants, “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he continued as he darted into the kitchen, tossing his gloves aside and sideswiping the kitchen island as he sock-surfed his way toward the oven, scooping up the oven mits on the way. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jack and Zee parted like the Red Sea so that Alfred could yank open the oven. It was at this point Zee realized that in the background of Alfred’s four letter incantation, a frantic alarm bell echoed from his smartwatch. The American heaved out the pie with an ease only Alfred Jones could manage, and slid it onto the trivets waiting on the counter. Once the oven was closed and turned off, the silence that followed allowed them to hear the bubbling pie filling. After a satisfied sniff and sigh, Alfred retrieved a butterknife from the drawer and ran it gently over the crest of the pie. It audibly scraped across the pastry, and Jack could feel the saliva filling his mouth.

As if sensing the younger nations’ attention, Alfred took off his oven mitts and fixed them both with a firm look, pointing his finger at them.“Do,” he said to Zee, “not,” to Jack, “eat,” back to Zee,” “This,” Jack again. He stayed on Jack, jabbing his finger for emphasis.

“Oi,” Jack frowned at him, smacking the hand away. “I wasn’t thinking about it,” 

“Yes you were,” Zee accused. 

“Which is why I’m telling you now, don’t. Zee,” Alfred said.

“Aye?

“Don’t let him eat it.”

“Aye.”

“Hey.”

“Right, I’m going back out for a bit longer. Text me if he wakes up.”

“Back outside?” Zee asked, glancing at the window. “Mate, it’s nearly dark.”

“It’s fine, I have a headlamp,” Alfred waved her off, retrieving his gloves and stepping back into his snow pants.

“For what?”

“Choppin’ wood, like I said. Later,” The door shut behind him. Zee looked back at Jack, who shrugged. They both ended up looking at the pie that lay between them, contemplative. After a few seconds, the door opened again and Alfred stuck his head through. “Don’t,” he said, and the Anzacs jerked up their eyes, suddenly needing to be elsewhere.

------------- 

Matt ended up sleeping far longer than just a few hours, well past sunset and into the actual evening. Zee eventually curled up in the sitting room nearby the back door and began to read the books he’d left out—the English ones, anyway. Jack was cuddled up beside her in a blanket and drooling on her shoulder when Alfred finally came back inside. Zee looked up and watched him set what looked like a chunk of wood by the door so he could take off his wet gear.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Eh, just a scrap, though I’d carve something,” he said, sounding out of breath. Water dripped from his hair onto the floor, and Zee realized he was soaked head to toe. What the hell had he been doing? “Matt up yet?” he asked.

“No, still snoozing.”

“Alright,” Alfred didn’t seem surprised. “I’m going to shower, if he’s up before I’m done, get him a slice of pie, would you?”

He was not up before Alfred was done, and so Zee stayed put and Jack slept on. Before too long Alfred returned clean, dry and wearing a set of thick sweats under a flannel. Zee would’ve assumed he’d nicked them from Matt’s closet, but both the sweatshirt and the joggers had faded NASA logos on them, so he must’ve had the forethought to pack a bag. He sank gratefully into an armchair, letting out a delighted noise when he realized it rocked. When he produced the scrap of wood and a pocket knife from his kangaroo pouch, Zee lowered her book.

“Firewood’s a little dry to carve, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, this stuff is fresh. Just carved up the tree.”

“Is that what you were doing? A whole tree?”

“Well, I didn’t want it to sit out in the snow and start to rot,” Alfred said, knife schick-ing into the wood with a satisfying sound. “It must’ve fallen down in the storm, that’s why Matt’s so down right now.”

“Over a tree?” Zee asked, glancing down at Jack’s sleeping face and jostling her shoulder until he fell into a more comfortable spot.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t just any tree, it was his oldest maple on the property. Hell, even I’m a little torn up about it. I remember helping him plant that thing, back in the day.”

“Shit, mate. How old was it?”

“Oh, gosh,” schick, schick, “I can’t remember the exact year. Maybe… ‘67? 68? So that’s what, two hundred fifty years, give or take? Alfred focused on his project, blowing away maple curls. Zee could smell the sweet wood from her seat, and it mixed wonderfully with the lingering smell of the pie. “He was still pretty small, couldn’t really lift heavy things, so I helped him carry the sapling over,” Alfred recalled, and a smile tugged at his face. “He was a cute kid, you know.” 

Zee had done the math quickly in her head and was somewhat surprised to realize Alfred was talking about the years just after Matt would’ve come under Arthur’s guardianship, before Alfred’s revolution. Matt never really talked about those years, at least not to Zee. 

“Really?” She smiled, and couldn’t help but glance down at Jack.

“Oh yeah, totally. The village ladies couldn’t get enough of him, when he was small. Chubby cheeks, perfect blond curls, a pout that could end wars. He was standoffish for most people but he liked following me everywhere. There used to be some stables out where the firewood shed is now, you know. I’d take him out on the pony to tap wild maple, before he was big enough to ride by himself.”

The image entranced Zee, but she struggled to imagine it. She knew from Arthur’s anecdotes that Alfred had only been a teenager during his Revolution, so she supposed he must’ve been something like a tween when Matt was a new child of the Empire—and she also knew from Arthur that Matt had been little more than a toddler at that time.

“Did you get the sapling from the woods?”

“No, he insisted on growing it from a seed,” Alfred focused on his carving. “Lost several sprouts until I convinced him to seed it indoors so the moose wouldn’t get it. When it worked, I convinced him it’d been his idea.” Alfred smiled, turning the wood in his hand and trimming off the edges shard by shard. “He was so proud of that thing. It took me a while to learn that it’d survived to maturity, actually, cause it was still pretty small when I…” Alfred faltered, pausing between swipes of his knife. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s no wonder he’s upset. That tree meant a lot to him.”

“I can imagine.” Zee looked back to her book, but didn’t see the words on the page. She couldn’t get a thought out of her head, so eventually she shared:

“You know, Al, I forget sometimes you’re the oldest of us.” Alfred let out a laugh.

“I’m assuming this happens in the same way I forget you’re not older than Jack,” he eyed the sleeping Aussie. “Don’t think I don’t know how it works, I know everyone sees Matt as the mature, responsible one.”

“I mean,” the kiwi scoffed, “can you blame us?”

“Hey, I can be responsible sometimes. And sometimes Matt’s the one who needs a rational adult around, although no one ever believes me when I say that.” Alfred huffed. “But no, I can’t blame you.” Schick, schick.

“Well, he does now, but I’ve sure never seen him like this before.”

“He can hide it pretty well.”

“If he has you to help clean him up like this every time, I can see how.” That made Alfred smile.

“What are brothers for?” He shrugged.

They both looked up when the sound of a creaking door broke the stillness of the evening, followed by the click-clack of unclipped dog claws on the floor. 

“Bonjour, marmotte,” Alfred called across the house. “Did you finally smell the pie?”

“Mmrf-hmm? Pie?” Jack was suddenly awake, blinking away sleep. Zee snorted. “There’s pie?” Alfred set aside his craft and hopped up from his seat.

“Man after my own stomach,” he said. “Come on, maybe he’ll let us have some.”

Alfred took time to whip cream for his pie, but Matt did not wait, digging into his slice as soon as it was out of the dish. Still, the slice was so large that by the time the whipped cream was available, there was still a full sized slice to catch the dollop that Alfred plopped on Matt’s plate without prompting. Jack took an equally large slice and stuck his tongue out when Zee gave him a dirty look for it. She took this as permission to get a large as well, though hers was pointedly smaller than her brother’s and she let him know it.

They ended up in the living room with Schitt’s Creek playing quietly above the mantle, the last logs of the fire cracking and crumbling into embers. The pie was thick enough that the middle was still satisfyingly hot, helping to melt the cream into the filling and create the perfectly tart, creamy bite of sweetness. Alfred finished first and immediately resumed his woodcarving project. The rest soon followed. Full and growing drowsy, Matt moved to sit next to his older brother and lean a cheek against his arm so he could watch Alfred work. Alfred leaned his head over to kiss the top of his little brother’s head. Jack was dozing off again, and Zee was too, mesmerized by the light of the embers.

Matt fell asleep first, but Alfred could see that Jack wouldn’t be far behind. 

“Hey,” he whispered to Zee, “why don’t you two turn in for the night? You’ve had a long day.”

“Mmmhmm,” Zee hummed back, “says sir “I chopped up a whole tree today”.” She began to heave herself up anyway. “Do you want help getting him to bed?” She indicated Matt. 

“Nah, I got it. Get some rest.”

“If you say so. Oi, Jackie, time for bed,” she kicked his foot.

“Mmmph?” 

“Come on, you fat wombat.”

Alfred muted the TV and continued carving in silence, satisfied with the silence, the warmth of the fire, the soft breath of Matt sleeping beside him. At his feet, Buddy flopped over to expose his belly to the fire, and gave a great yawn. Alfred reached out a toe to scratch the dog’s back.

“Me too, bud.”

Alfred didn’t realize that Matt had woken back up until he was dusting off his completed carving and moving the curls into a neat pile.

“That’s maple, isn’t it,” the Canadian said, and Alfred jumped, bucking Matt off his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m still holding a knife,”

“Sorry,” Matt said groggily, “I figured you knew I was awake.”

“No, didn’t—for how long?”

“Not long,” Matt yawned. The American tried not to laugh when he saw the creases his hoodie had made on Matt’s cheek. “What is it?” He eyed Alfred’s carving. Alfred looked down at it.

“Oh, not much, I just…” he glanced at his brother. “I saw the tree,” he said gently. “I’m really sorry, Mattie.” He handed Matt his small creation. It was a very roughly carved wooden cup or bowl, a little smaller than Matt’s hand, with a smooth exterior and a far rougher interior and, unexpectedly, a hole whittled into the bottom of it.

“Well it’s not going to hold much wine,” Matt mused.

“It’s not for drinking,” Alfred corrected him with an eyeroll, “it’s a flower pot. I just… I figured… you know, if you ever want to plant a new seed out there, you can start it off here, kinda, keep things going, you know? Connected.” Matt suddenly had a lump in his throat as he turned the gift over in his hands. It didn’t look quite as rough now that his eyes were watery. “Or, I dunno,” Alfred was looking at it too, but with a critic’s eye. “It might be too small for that.”

“No,” Matt said, “It’s great. Thank you, Al,” he leaned into his brother’s side.

“I sectioned up the rest and put it in your shed so she doesn’t start rotting when the snow melts.” At Matt’s slightly panicked expression, Al added, “don’t worry, I didn’t chop anything up too small. Well, except—the trunk was huge, you know, so I had to section it up. I hope you don’t mind, I sliced off a portion already, uh, a pretty big one, I was going to dig out those woodworking tools I gave you that I know you haven’t used, while the wood’s still wet, start making you a new front door. I mean, no offense bud but your house needs it, the one you have is cracked to hell and isn’t even hanging lev-” The last syllable was forced from Alfred’s lungs when Matt wrapped his arms around Alfred’s middle and squeezed. Alfred laughed and fell back under his brother’s weight.

“Is that okay?” Alfred chuckled, patting Matt’s back as the younger man dug his face into his shoulder.

“Yes,” Matt replied, and the unexpected waver in the word surprised Alfred.

“Aw, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around Matt’s broad and bony shoulders, ignoring it when Matt sniffed against Al’s flannel. He rubbed Matt’s back for a while and let the Canadian quietly emote. Eventually, he said, “I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

“Of course it did,” Matt turned his face out of Alfred’s shirt so he could speak, now nasally. “That was the first tree I planted on purpose. And it was one of the last times you were up here with me, before your stupid—” Matt caught himself before finishing. He huffed and hugged Alfred tighter to himself.

“Yeah,” Alfred said quietly, guiltily. It took him a long while to figure out what to say. “I remember. I’m sorry, Mattie.” After giving Matt a moment to respond and receiving no reaction, he craned his neck down and kissed Matt’s head. “It was a really good tree, to have lasted this long.” Matt remained silent  for a long time, staring at the fire. Alfred was not sure if he was being quiet because he was sad, or because he was keeping himself from starting an argument about Alfred’s Revolution, which would perhaps always be the most tender wound between them. Either way, Alfred realized he was likely going to be pinned in place for quite some time, so he reclined against some pillows and Matt followed, clung to him like a baby koala. 

It was Alfred’s turn to grow sleepy, Matt’s warmth on his front, the TV light dancing in unfocused patterns, last embers tinkling and crackling like seaglass on the tide. 

“I have a proper greenhouse this time,” Matt said suddenly, sounding sleepy. “So it’ll have a better chance. Will you come back when it’s big enough to plant?”

“Hmm,” Alfred let his eyes fall shut, “you still need help lifting saplings?” Matt poked him in the ribs and he laughed. “Sure I will. I gotta stick around long enough to make you that door, anyhow.” Matt hummed his agreement and the two drifted towards sleep together, Matt’s arms slowly loosening around Alfred as he relaxed. One of Alfred’s hands slipped off of Matt’s back and hung off the sofa, fingertips tickled by Buddy’s fur.

Matt appeared to be asleep—or at least mostly so, when he shifted on his brother-turned pillow and muttered,

“Je t'aime,” which made Alfred’s heart swell. Squinting his eyes open, the American fetched the remote to turn off the TV and pulled a blanket off the top of the couch and onto his brother, tucking in the sides around them to make sure no part of the Canadian would grow cold as the fire died.

“You too, kiddo,” he whispered, bringing his arms back up to wrap around Matt before shuffling his upper half into a more comfortable spot and letting himself drift to sleep to this sound of his brother’s soft breathing.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 3: Blood and Water

AO3

Ship: ???, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4830

Warnings: None

A/N: Ahhh I now this one is a little late! Sorry guys! Regardless I hope you still enjoy it!

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A castle all to himself and not a single clue as to what he could possibly explore first. Perhaps he should have offered to taste test with his bride. The Arcadian ruler certainly didn't seem to be in the most welcoming of moods, but Solomon couldn't blame them. They'd just lost their father unexpectedly and had been tossed into preparations. 

Maybe he was being unthoughtful.

Many what ifs swirled around Solomon's brain as he glanced up at the windows. How long had he been sitting here trying to think of something? An hour? Two perhaps? 

Whatever the case may be, he'd been doing nothing for far too long. 

After observing the room for a moment more, he'd come to realize that each window had a doorway hidden beneath. Solomon had almost missed them at first, that was until he started to wonder where Lilith had disappeared to. He honestly wondered if doorways was even the correct term for entrances that appeared to lead into the ground. Perhaps trapdoors would be a better term. Different paths stood before him. His eyes circled the windows in front of him, landing on the blue ones above the thrones. A curtain draped behind them. At first, he believed there to be nothing more than a wall behind, but now he wondered. 

This was his home now too. It wasn’t as if he'd be trespassing. Surely he was allowed to explore the grounds he walked on. Azazel had said it'd be perfectly fine. 

Slowly he made his way to the curtain. It loomed closer and closer in front of him. Just as he reached his hand out to pull back the drifting fabric it tore open.

"Oh! You must be my new brother-in-law!"

A rather large hand engulfed his own. Solomon swore the earth was moving beneath him and feared that his arm might break in two. 

"I ran as soon as I got word from my husband that you were arriving. Tell me, will you be importing anything from your kingdom? Since it will be part of the Arcadian Empire now. I can show you my contributions if you aren't sure," his voice was booming and he talked rather fast. 

The more Solomon looked at him, the more he realized that this man most likely wasn't Arcadian. His mannerisms were different, and he seemed a bit broader and taller than both his betrothed and her brother.

"Husband?" Solomon repeated, his head was having a difficult time processing and keeping up with the energetic man before him, "Are you married to one of the siblings?"

"The crown prince himself. My darling Lucifer," almost instantly he went from loud and puffed out to a dreamy sighing puddle.

"Really." 

Solomon didn't believe it. How could a man like this be married to a man like Lucifer? It didn't make sense to him. 

Lucifer was no welcome wagon, but his husband seemed to be the committee and the main attraction!

Solomon couldn’t imagine their marriage worked. He couldn't see how it would even begin to work.

Arranged marriages were odd. How had this pairing even come together? 

"I didn't even know Lucifer was married."

"Well, not a lot of information travels outside of Arcadia. At least that's what I've noticed. For such a large kingdom, the royal family manages to keep many things quiet."

"Apparently the death of their king didn't stay under wraps, I'm sorry we had to meet under such pretenses."

Suddenly the atmosphere changed. The man before him shifted from side to side. Eyes glanced away from Solomon and towards one of the windows.

"Yes… I can say that things have been a little tense since his passing… It was rather unexpected,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he spoke. Perhaps it wasn’t Arcadian mannerisms, maybe something else was going on, “I didn’t know the man personally myself, but your condolences are appreciated.”

Seemingly eager to change the subject clapped his hands together, "But we do have many things to look forward to. The coronation and then your wedding for one. And surely you must be excited to spend more time with your spouse. I know I was elated to see my Lucifer for the first time and to spend my days with him."

Well at least he enjoyed time with the crown prince. 

"My name is Diavolo, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you King Solomon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

Their handshake this time was firmer, more controlled.  He still didn't have a clue how a man like this was married to and seemed happy with someone like Lucifer. Was it all some sort of act? Surely he was content with marrying Lilith, they were a good arranged match after all, but he could never see them being elated like that together. It would be wishful thinking. His parents hadn't been like that, and he'd never seen an arrangement end up in such a way. Perhaps it wasn't impossible, but it was highly unlikely.

"I've heard a lot of things about you, including that you're quite the scholar," Diavolo said, "Perhaps I could show you the library. I think you'd enjoy it."

A library. Maybe he could find something there. Maybe they had rumors or tales of Arcadia that discussed fables of it's magic or maybe he could find something on Arcadia's customs. Regardless, a library would be helpful. 

"I think that would be lovely, yes."

With a smile, Diavolo led him over to the green stained glass window and opened the door, "Watch your step now it's rather steep."

"Is there a particular reason the layout of the castle is like this."

"I'm not entirely sure," Diavolo admitted, "I believe it's to keep the heirs safe. Each sibling has their own domain, and the underground tunnels lead to each one. It's a rather intricate system once you get down there. Lucifer had to guide me for quite some time before I understood how to use it."

Intricate indeed. This hall was dimly lit by flame light. The stones were cold and dim and after a while the paths started to split off in multiple directions. It was easy to see how one could quickly become lost. He had to wonder if any of them led to dead ends, but this was not the time to find out. Staying close on Diavolo's heels, the two of them made their way through the winding corridors together. Every now and again he swore he saw Diavolo glance towards something, but he couldn't make out what. 

Even with his attire, Solomon felt a chill run through him.

He'd begun to lose track of time. 

There was something disorienting about this place.

Up.

Down.

Left.

Right.

Two sets, no, three sets of staircases. 

The sound of the door reached him  before  he realized the sunlight burning his eyes.

The room was cozier than the  main hall they'd first been in. A fireplace sat in one corner  with two plush arm chairs flanking either side. On the side opposite to them was a large, ornate door and opposite to the fireplace was a hall. Solomon couldn't have even begun to imagine what he'd see on the other side of the door as Diavolo opened it and ushered him inside.

Hundreds of thousands of books surrounded him on all sides. They circled the entire room up to a domed glass ceiling and a staircase spiraled it's way upwards. He couldn't wait to explore each platform and see what knowledge he could find.

"Satan! I was hoping you'd be here."

"Where else would I be?"

Solomon snapped himself from his daze to the new member. He was poised and mostly put together. His clothes were a bit off, but other than that, everything seemed in order.

"Satan, I'd like you to meet-"

"Lilith's fiance, I heard he'd arrived," Satan looked him up and down, circling him like a cat circling its prey, "Apologies we couldn't all meet you upon arrival, but things have been a bit hectic with planning for our big brother's coronation."

"I can understand. You do look a bit like him."

"Please don't insult me in such a way." 

Odd response, but he was getting used to odd responses. With each one he lost a little more hope in understanding this family.

Luckily, this time, Solomon had someone to swoop in to save him, "Solomon is a scholar like yourself and he was hoping to see a little bit of your library."

His library?

"Satan cares for all of the knowledge in Arcadia and what we gather from beyond. If it's been written down, it's most likely here. Most are originals, but some are copies," Solomon must have slipped up in hiding his expressions. He just couldn't believe it was all here.

All of it was right here.

Then it occurred to him: This was his first time meeting another sibling outside of Lucifer and Lilith. He could redeem himself. Now he could make a good impression, especially since he was now in his element.

"I would love to explore your library if you don't mind."

Satan nodded and gestured deeper into the room, "Be my guest."

Satan stayed near him as they made their way around the library. Solomon knew he'd have to come back later to fully examine the library, but for now he had some specific books in mind.  There were quite a few books on Arcadia, which wasn't all that surprising, snd Solomon was pleased to see that he would have his pick of information. "You don't mind if I bring these back to my room do you? Just for some nighttime reading," he asked, turning to Satan, "I promise I'll keep them in the utmost condition."

Satan nodded again, "As long as they come back to this library as they left, I don't mind. However, there is something I do mind."

He stepped closer.

"Lilith comes to visit me often here and there isn't a single thing that I don't know. Anything you do, I will know about." 

Solomon couldn't decide whether this was a threat or a warning. "I promise you that I have no intention of hurting Lilith."

"We'll be the judge of that," Satan said before glancing over at a clock on one of the far sides of the wall, "It's almost time for dinner. I'm assuming you haven't met much of the family."

Solomon shook his head.

"Then this will be quite an experience," Satan smirked.

***

The three of them travelled back through the tunnels. The longer he was down there, the more Solomon hated it. It was dizzying and confusing and seemed to dull the rest of his senses. 

"It takes a while to get used too," Diavolo murmured, bumping against his shoulder, "But you will get used to it."

The emerged to a different room once more. So the tunnels connected to the other sectors aside from the main hall…

Voices flowed from one of the halls where Solomon assumed the dining room was.

"For the hundredth time, I'm tellin ya I didn't do it!"

"Oh I believe you."

"Really?"

"No stupid."

Solomon entered to quite the scene. The crown prince had his head in his hands, Azazel sitting on one side of him while two other men looked about ready to jump over the table at each other.

"They're so loud," a third yawned, "Can't we ever just have a quiet family dinner?"

Yet another eyed the food on the table like he hadn't eaten in decades, "It would be nice to eat when it's calm."

"It would be easier to take a nap too." 

Satan turned and smirked at Solomon, "Welcome to the family brother-in-law." He wandered and took a seat across from Lilith who looked rather bored with the situation. 

Diavolo had wandered over to Lucifer’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering something to him. Solomon swore he caught the faintest glimpses of a smile from Lucifer.

Solomon walked up to an empty chair next to Lilith, "Is this seat taken?"

She glanced up at him, "Be my guest."

He felt like he should say something to her. 

"Hopefully my family doesn't scare you off," she joked, glancing towards her two arguing brothers, "Mammon and Levi usually fight. The two at the other end are Beel and Belphie."

"You don't have anything to worry about,  it takes a lot to scare me away." 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Belphie's eye open ever so slightly.  He seemed to be glaring in their direction. At first he thought it might be directed at him, not like it would have been the first time today, but the longer he observed he realized that he was glaring at Lilith. Once Belphie realized  Solomon was looking at him, he turned his head and struck up a conversation with Satan.

He couldn't dwell on it too long. 

"I know Diavolo liked the food when he came here. I'm sure you will too," Lilith assured, "Ever since Barbatos came here with him it's been even better! He's a wonderful baker too. He made Lucifer’s wedding cake, and I begged him to make mine whenever the time came."

She laughed, but her laughter slowly died on her tongue as she stared down at her empty plate. 

He didn't need to touch the broach to have an idea about what she was feeling. 

"You're nervous."

"Who wouldn't be?"

Fair. 

"You're still wearing the broach I gave you, so I guess it means I'm not all that terrifying am I?" 

She snorted a little and reached for the scorpion at her chest, "I suppose not."

"Yet you look sad."

He hadn't meant  to say it.

Lilith was quiet, the arguing of her brother's were nothing but background noise to their silence, "I suppose I just have a lot on my mind is all."

"I apologize, that was a bit insensitive of me-"

"No no. You're alright."

Just then, servants began to pour from doors from a back room. They were led by another man who seemed to be dressed a little better than the rest and he quickly took his place next to Diavolo.

Solomon couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so much food. The only thing he could think of was when he first met Lilith, but even that didn't really compare. 

It was only then that he realized just how hungry he was. 

It wasn't gentlemanly of him, but he couldn't help himself. The food the servants laid on his plate was immediately inhaled. He'd been so eager about coming to Arcadia that food had been pushed to the back of his mind. 

"Someone's hungry, your appetite almost rivals Beel's!" Lilith giggled, Solomon felt her turn his face towards her and used a napkin to wipe his lower lip, "Almost."  

Solomon felt his face heat up. He shouldn't be acting this, it wasn't proper for a king. Yet the way Lilith looked at him- 

He couldn't believe he'd almost forgotten how pretty his fiance was. 

Maybe he wasn't just red out of embarrassment.

"I hadn't really thought about eating before I came here. I suppose the idea of coming to Arcadia had me quite excited."

She smiled at him before turning to her own plate.

Everything about her was so graceful. He couldn't help but watch her eat as he sipped at the wine in his cup. He shouldn't be staring, especially not when her family was at the table. She made eye contact with him and Solomon nearly choked, quickly going back to his food.

"Haven't you ever seen a pretty person eat before?" she asked, looking at him from the corner of her eye. 

"Ah, my apologies-"

"Don't. I like it when you look at me like that."

Like what?

"Then I suppose I should keep doing it then."

Solomon had almost completely drowned out the fighting of the other two brothers. His conversation with Lilith had been wonderful so far. They were getting along and he wanted her to feel comfortable on their wedding day. However, the fighting would soon become something he couldn't ignore.

"Fine Levi, you wanna believe I took it so bad? Well why don't you go and take something of mine then?" Solomon had looked up just in time to watch Mammon hurl potatoes towards his brother which hit his chest.

"Seriously Mammon? I just had these cleaned! You're such an ass!" Levi retaliated, grabbing more food to hurl at Mammon.

"Ha! Missed me! Your aim sucks."

"I'll make sure not to miss you this time! I'm going to aim right for your stupid face!"

Beel looked panicked, "You really shouldn't be wasting your food like-"

"Hey Belphie, why don't we see if we can hit Lucifer, yeah?" Satan interrupted, grinning down  at the youngest.

Before Solomon knew what was happening, food was flying everywhere from all sides of the table. This entire day had been one giant case of whiplash, and he wasn't exactly sure how to process it all. He’d barely been in Arcadia for a day and he was already witnessing a war.

"Lucifer I'm telling you, you're brothers clearly aren't fit to rule alongside you," Azazel's sigh reached Solomon's ears among the commotion, "This is the second dinner this week now, and it's certainly not the first nor the last day they'll be causing a ruckus."

Lucifer was stewing, but Solomon also couldn't miss how tired he looked, “And I’m telling you Uncle that I will have the final say in the matter. You are an advisor, not a decider. My father may have taken every shred of advice that danced off your tongue, but I am not him.” 

"I'm happy I'm not the oldest," Lilith murmured, "Lucifer has to take care of so much, and now he also has to worry about keeping the rest of my brother's in line."

"He doesn't have to keep you in line?" Solomon teased.

Lilith bristled, but only for a moment, then she snorted, "Please. I'm an angel. Lucifer doesn't need to worry about me. I'm not my brothers. I have cl-"

Splat.

Food splattered on the side of Lilith's face and onto her dress. Solomon couldn't hide the shock he felt. 

"Oops, sorry sister, I was aiming for Lucifer, guess I got you instead," Belphie sneered, "Maybe you should pay a little less attention to your fiance and a little more to your surroundings."

The grinding of Lilith's chair against the floor as she sat up was enough to grab attention. Solomon was surprised the chair itself hadn’t tipped over.  She grabbed a large handful of food from her plate, wound back her arm.

"Lilith," Azazel's voice was calm but firm, and the room went quiet, "It is not appropriate for a lady to participate in something so brutish."

"But-"

"I'm sure your fiance would agree. You have a role to fill Lilith." 

"Now hang on-" Solomon started, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Uncle, I don't need you stepping in like this."

"Oh but you do Lucifer! It's my job to prepare you all to take over, and by the looks of it, it still seems that I have my work cut out for me. I’d thought I’d made more progress than this, and clearly I was wrong," Azazel's gaze drifted over each one of the siblings as silence engulfed the room. 

Mammon and Levi had stopped bickering and sat down, both of them avoiding eye contact.

Lilith was still fuming. Solomon noticed the tremor in her hand, the twitching of her fingers. Had what Azazel said made her that agitated? He could understand her feeling humiliated, but it seemed like there was something more than that. Her hand slammed down on the table, splattering what food that was in her hand, and turned from the table. 

"And where do you think you're going?" Azazel asked.

"To get a bath. I feel filthy." 

"You should ask first, dear."

Lilith turned on her heels to shoot a glare towards Azazel, "I don't need to ask for permission in my own home, especially not from you."

She wasn't wrong. This was her home. Shouldn't she be allowed to do as she pleased?

"It's a lesson. You've been doing so good  with your little habits. We wouldn't want a relapse would we?"

Solomon caught the glare Lucifer shot Azazel. That seemed to ignite something in him. He stood and offered the rest of the family a nod, "Dinner had been lovely, but I think I'll be accompanying Lilith from here." 

Now it was his turn to receive a glare from the crown prince to which he raised his hands in a show of surrender. It seemed like the right thing to do.  After all, Lilith was in some sort of distress. What type of husband would he be if he didn't offer himself in such times?

Lilith seemed hesitant to take his offer, but as they walked out together, Solomon leaned close to her ear, "I'm only coming along for you. Say the word and I'll listen." 

He could be good to her.

Her shoulders relaxed somewhat, "Thank you."

Lilith's bathroom was immaculate. The marble that made up the room had a rosey pink tint to it with gold flecks  that sparkled as they walked.  The bath itself was in the floor surrounded by bricks and smooth pillars.The water was crystal clear and Solomon could see each of the individual levels and sitting areas within it. There were rows of soaps and oils close to the pool, each with a variety of scents. Most were from Arcadia, but Solomon also recognized a few that were imported from other kingdoms. It was a small oasis, a place of refuge. 

Lilith had taken one of the bottles and started pouring it into the large pool. Not even the current from the small stone waterfall could disturb the army of bubbles that started to rise from the watery depths. Solomon's vision of the bottom of the pool was now completely obscured. 

Satisfied, with the number of bubbles, Lilith returned the bottle to its place and picked through some of the others. 

"Would you mind helping me?" she asked, glancing over at Solomon, "It's hard for me to reach the back."

"Of course."

Keeping himself an arms length away, Solomon started to undo the pink silk ribbon. He could feel Lilith fidgeting in front of him, eyes fixated on some part of the floor. He felt himself audibly groan when he laid eyes on the corset under the fabric.

"Oh these are a pain."

"Tell me about it."

Solomon chuckled as he started to work, "I don't envy you in the slightest. I can't imagine what a pain it is for you to have to put yourself in this every day."

"Yeah, it certainly isn't-" an odd noise left her and her hands quickly gripped at the fabric of her clothes.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No I ah- Ah it's just that," she coughed and her voice went a little more quiet, "My back it just sensitive."

Oh.

"Oh! Oh I see, well, I'll be a little more mindful then."

He worked a little quicker until she was down to her slip. 

"I can do it from here then, so if you don't mind." She twirled her finger.

"Of course."

Solomon turned and, for extra measure, put a hand over his eyes. "Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner?" he asked.

"Why?" 

That was a little more defensive than he thought it would be.

"You seemed upset." 

Solomon heard the clink of metal against marble before the soft splash of water. He uncovered his eyes and turned, only to see Lilith's head in the water.

Thoughts consumed her eyes. Solomon wanted to ask about them, ask if there was any comfort he could give. 

He unbuckled his shoes and pulled up his pants before dipping his feet into the water next to her. He wouldn't get in, there were still unspoken boundaries up that he knew he shouldn't cross yet. He couldn't even sleep in the same room with her. 

Even now he couldn't help but admire her despite only being able to see short strawberry blonde hair. Was it soft and silky like her hands?

"You know, I think I would have liked to see you throw something at your brothers," he said, smiling as he saw her perk up, "After all, they started it. You weren't even involved."

"You mean that?"

"On my honor. Like I told you when we first met, pretty things can be dangerous too," he watched as her face became even pinker than what the steaming water had made it, "I can't wait to get to know you and your home better Lilith, if you'll allow me."

I'd at least like to be friends.

He could tell he'd stirred something within her, but he wasn't sure what had done so. 

"Thank you Solomon. You're too kind," her voice was even softer than it had been before, "Would you mind if I was alone for a while? My bath's are also a time I like to use to think and be by myself."

With a nod, Solomon stood, "I understand. Perhaps we can make time to talk more tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

At least he'd learned a little more about her during that time. Not much but a little. He couldn't help but think of the expression on her face as he left. Confliction. He was familiar with it, but he couldn't understand why she'd be feeling such a way. Perhaps Lilith was a mystery to unravel just like Arcadia itself, maybe all of the Morningstars were that way.  

Maybe his books could lend him some answers.

"Your highness," the voice made Solomon jump. Did everyone in Arcadia have the footsteps of a mouse? How had no one died of fright in this place? Maybe he could use some magic to attach bells to every single one of the residents, lest he meet an early end.

"Your room is ready, I was sent to fetch you." 

Barbatos. So this was Diavolo's butler. He certainly wasn't anything like his master. 

"I believe you also have your companions waiting for you as well."

Luke and Simeon. Solomon was kicking himself now. How could he have forgotten about them? In all the excitement he hadn't bothered to go looking for them. "How are they?"

"They're alright. They spent most of the day with me. I must say, they're interesting people." 

The walk down to his room was a quick one, unlike his earlier treks. Just as Barbatos had said, his two companions were waiting for him. 

"Solomon! You should have seen the kitchen! Barbatos had rows of fresh cakes just for the princess to try! He made them all today! It was more cakes than I'd ever seen in all my life!" Luke's speech was rapid and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet to a point where Solomon felt his own calves hurt.

"Yes, and I think someone might be having a sugar crash tonight," Simeon chuckled, placing his hands firmly on Luke's shoulders,  "I hope your day went well." 

"It was certainly something. How about the two of you? Was everything alright? I'm sorry I lost track of you."

"No need to worry, Barbatos took us under his wing. Don't apologize for exploring. I know you've been anxious to be here."

What would he do without Simeon? 

"Now if you don't mind, I have to get someone off to bed, a growing boy needs his rest."

A yawn left Luke before he could even protest. Luckily for Simeon, it looked like the sugar crash was kicking in sooner than he'd thought.

Solomon nodded, "Of course, Luke does want to be tall one day, so that he won't be an ankle biter any more. That is what the crown prince called him, yes?" He couldn't help but laugh to himself. 

“‘M not ‘n ankle biter,” Luke yawned, rubbing one of his eyes. It looked like it was time to wrap up their brief encounter. Surely Simeon and Luke would also have a long day ahead of them navigating their own place in Arcadia.

"Good night Simeon, don't hesitate to come to me if you need me."

"Much the same to you Solomon. Good night."

With that, they left and Solomon entered his room. It was furnished, all of his things seemed to make it in one piece, and it was private enough. He didn’t have any qualms or requests upon first glance, but further inspection and exploration would have to wait till tomorrow. With a snap of his fingers, a candle flickered to life. Grabbing some parchment and the books from Satan's library, Solomon began what would inevitably be a long night ahead of him.

[lucky-sevens]

mechanisms fanfiction recommendations

this began as a compilation of my own works for my about, but i decided to recommend some others as well!

i have kept this list to 20 of other people’s + all of my own, because i have a lot of mechanisms fanfiction saved and didn’t want to go overboard! in addition, i’ve made sure that everyone i draw from is a different author, vs. several by the same person, for the sake of variation and giving more people a spotlight! i’ve also made sure everything is complete, which sadly means i’ve left out a few of my favorite longfics. i’ve also tried to have a decent balance of album-focused things vs crew-focused things.

a note; i’ve tried to have a variety (of both genre and length), but my tastes skew towards angst and longer oneshots, so that’ll be a lot of that sort of thing. (please mind the tags on some of these fics!) this is also all sfw, as i’m a minor, but it’s not all gen.

edit: i copy-pasted the summary from each of these works over to this post!

no matter what you do it won’t go away by AssyEr

Brian coming to terms with being made of metal.

Hatter and Hare Top 5 Gay Moments!! [NOT CLICKBAIT!!!] by shella688

Majors Hatter and Hare grinned at each other as they shook hands.

Then, all of a sudden, the grins faltered slightly as a realisation went through both their heads.

Oh no, the realisation went. He's cute.

Date Night: New Midgardian Prison Edition by OnceAndFloral

The Mechs cordially invite Lyfrassir to date night in their prison cell. And by "cordially invite" I mean "orchestrate an elaborate scheme".

eternity will see her dead by Garecc

Rose Reds are made to die, and eternity will see them dead, sent off to another bitter end.

cold as numbers by alderations

Ivy starts at the beginning.

Every morning, Ivy starts at the beginning. Rubbing alcohol, scalpel blades, sensations that should be twisting and cutting and crushing, if the words could coalesce into feelings. A subdued voice, a cool hand on her forehead. She is Ivy Alexandria. She starts at the beginning.

beat inside your heart by zinabug

Jonny and Nastya sibling oneshots part two. (Note from @lucky-sevens- they all function on their own.)

And Sew by fracnkie

The benefits of teaching your Toy Soldier to do the following: sew, do makeup, how to cure a sore throat, and how to shoot a plasma blaster.

Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust by CloudDreamer

It was the two of them against the world. But then the two of them against each other, and that seemed so much harder than fighting all the worlds combined.

Wayfarers by Oblivion_Wanderer

Nastya and Lyf meet in the cold of space; Nastya adrift after leaving the Mechanisms and Lyf fleeing from the destruction of the Yggdrasil system. Each feeling lost in their own way, they decide to travel together.

No Heart To Break by meteornight

The Toy Soldier was not real. It could never be real, not if it had any say in the matter. The widow had said that the toy was real, that it had once been a real man with a real heart. The toy knew that was a lie, for if it was a man, why would she treat it like a toy?

is it piety is it purity is it virtue by consumptive_sphinx

“Percy’s blunt, not stupid,“ Mordred says when Kay asks why they’re even friends, “and anyway she’s great, she never calculates anything, she just says stuff and makes everyone else deal with it. I could never be brave enough.”

This is because Mordred absolutely does calculate every word that comes out of his mouth, except sometimes when it’s two in the morning and everyone except him and Galahad and Percival has gone to sleep and he can argue as passionately in favor of peace as he wants with the only two people who won’t call him a traitor for it, and while he doesn’t not appreciate this trait of Percival’s, like hell is he going to admit to his real reason.

orpheus, the soldier, and the short-billed dowitchers by alexsandr

orpheus finds rest with an unexpected friend.

No Violins Allowed by Alienea

Lyf had been having a very peaceful and fulfilling few decades, at least in terms of work fulfillment and being able to afford to bail out of the system at the very first moment anything happened.

So of course that was when the Mechanisms appeared over the horizon.

Labyrinthine by DuskDragon39

Your story is a labyrinth.

Your story is built along wandering lines and windings so vague that you, its architect, cannot trace your way out. It is your scream at its center, your pain that fuels it.

(Or: Daedalus and the stories they tell about him.)

Baking With Goggles (Safety First!) by eminorseven

Marius tries to justify bringing Jonny and Tim to the kitchen. Brian daydreams. Jonny stabs many walnuts. Tim gets locked out and explodes things.

Typical baking stuff.

Surprising Salvage by OddmentsAndTweaks

A normal boring morning is made infinitely more exciting by the prospect of a ship boarding. The Mechanisms prepare for chaos and murder and some really good violence. What they get is one very defiantly defended ruined vessel and a morning no one expected at all.

I wanna stay here with you by SnailArmy 

Loki and Sigyn get to be wives, in stolen moments. 

As It Was by i_am_made_of_memoriies

Jonny walked down the corridor, his steps burdened by an invisible force. His face was passive, and where there was usually manic glee, there was only a hint of curiosity–someone was trying to enter through the airlocks, and he was going to kill them.

Nastya returns to the ship formerly known as the Aurora to find the mechanisms at the end of their time.

burned out from a joyride by spiralingcosmos

ashes has a nightmare; as a result, they make a new friend.

In Which Nastya Is The Narrator Of The Deaths by nonbinary_frog

(Note from @lucky-sevens: There is no summary included, but I feel like the title works well enough.)

---

my heart in your hands

How Jonny d'Ville's mechanization came about.

i’ve got a map of your eyes (but i’ve never seen your face)

That’s not the real Rose. All the memories and feelings were merely planted in her head.”

 “Very true.”

 “And given the effective age difference, it’s unlikely they’ll have much of a life together, not to mention the massive amount of trauma they’ve both endured.”

 “Absolutely.”

 “Not only that, but everyone else they’ve ever known or loved is dead and they’re trapped on a planet full of corpses in a vast interstellar empire that is going to suffer the most horrendous power vacuum and associated bloodshed the galaxy has ever seen. Oh, and they’re both known war criminals and will likely be on the run for the rest of their lives.”

“Like I said. I love a happy ending.”

-Ever After

the death of a phoenix

You are Ashes O'Reilly, and you are twenty-three, and you are dying.

an exercise in futility

Post-Lashings.

ballast

The Aurora doesn't have a daemon, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have a soul.

marching ever through the black

Whoever’s uniform you wear No loyalties to hold or share No burning hate, no bitter fear No heart to break, so shed no tear

TMA Is The Mechanisms’ Podcast (series)

The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by the Mechanisms, a crew of immortal space pirates roaming through the galaxy having fun, violence, violence, and violence. They have an inane distaste for laws, and so refuse to put their podcast under any kind of copyright law whatsoever. Today's episode was cowritten by Ivy Alexandria and Nastya Rasputina and performed by Jonny d'Ville. It was produced by the SS Aurora and directed by Jonny d'Ville- well, no, but sometimes he wants to be in charge of things and the other Mechanisms don't find it worth arguing about. To comment on episodes, make donations, and view links, images, and show notes, simply throw yourself into space and the Mechanisms may or may not find you. Probably best if they don't. Thank you for listening, though why you choose to spend your time like this is beyond the Blogbot's understanding.

thank you for reading! i’d highly suggest trying these!

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira Vol 2 (2)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 2: You Were Found

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: I’m feeling better today, enjoying the weather, shit scared of thunder and wanting sleep to come early so I don’t wake up in the noon like I did today

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If the air could spell out the emotions floating in this space, it would paint the molecules 'awkward'. But what is more fascinating to witness by anyone who would walk in on the scene is to point out to who is more uncomfortable than the others. You sit across your parents, busy helping serve breakfast around the table, your attention is mostly taken by your grandmother- who is more than delighted to be served fried bread, these little pieces of her favourite edible treasures of fried dough and a hot cup of tea to go with it all. Shireen and Ritviz, your younger sister and brother sit on the other end of the table together, watching you with their piercing gaze as you try to- almost- completely ignore this extraordinarily handsome man sitting right next to you. They dare not blink as this pale sculpted dude looks at the movements of your hands busy at work before landing his haze upon your face. "So-" Ritviz leans in towards Shireen, his eyes still not letting go of this guy who is stuck on his sister for some reason- "this is her boss?"

Shireen hums, narrowing her eyes towards the duo. Taking a cardamom stick from the table basket, she snaps it in half. "Ay, Kira. Give your boss some of that mint sauce you prepared last night." You turn to watch your sister nibble at the cardamom, trying your best to ignore the palpitations and nod with a smile. How does she always know? It is hard to know if the heat your feel at the nape of your neck and cheeks is visible to everyone sitting around you and even harder to let your excited brain find a switch to shut down the anxiety that your body feels on having all the people you love in one room. On the same table. "Have some of this," your mother brings forward an entire serving of her signature chillis fried and spiced in her signature chickpea dough recipe and asks Loki to help himself. "No!" You blurt out when Loki tries to go for them, moving them away to take charge of filling his plate up. "He can't eat chilli," you explain, gathering more judgment from your siblings, "it doesn't suit him." "Tsk. How have you been living with him till now?! You can barely survive without spicy food!" You and Loki turn your heads- quite in sync- to look at Shireen. "Shireen," mother uses her tone to make it known she is crossing some line. But she also makes sure to smile at her daughter's guest and serve him some piping hot tea. "Don't mind her. I dropped her on the floor when she was a baby," you whisper to Loki. Loki blinks and quietly chuckles before turning back to look at Shireen. "We have a cook back home. She makes sure Kira gets everything she wants and needs." There is a gasp forming in Ritviz's lungs right now as he bites into the fried cheese. 'We'? 'Back home'? This dude already planned their retirement?? "So, Loki..." Now all three children turn to look at their mother, knowing full well where this is going the moment she addresses your boss so casually. "Do you have any siblings?" Ritviz facepalms himself harder than anticipated. Shireen grabs a chilli and stuffs it in her mother's mouth while you try to keep a straight face through the embarrassment your family is making you feel. Well, your dad and grandma are an exception because they are more interested in the food. "She doesn't have any idea about what's going on around the world. So..." You trial off with apology bursting through your y/e/c eyes. Your siblings look at your mother with daggers in their eyes, knowing full well she has consumed the Odin family history through the news like an addict ever since you got the job at Sun Corp. More so when you came back home. Your mom can feel their stares. But she too takes her time to look at them and go 'what' like it's a big deal. "Meet me outside after breakfast and I'll tell you 'what'," Shireen threatens her. Loki simply shrugs. "It's fine. I have a brother. He is back in Asgard looking after his father's empire. We don't meet each other much. Mostly because of our work." It is both relieving and painful to watch Loki sail on those words so smoothly and end them with a genuine smile. "These are delicious, by the way," he adds and you have to wonder about a thousand things about your boss in one go. Your mother is won over by that compliment but that does not stop her from prying more into your boss' life. "The business must be going well then?" Loki nods in respect. "We have been going stable. So, that is a plus after the slump the market was facing." "Okay, no business talk on the table," you remind everyone before pouring some soda for you, your grandma and Loki. "The food still might feel spicy. Have the soda first and tea later." Loki pauses between bites and lets that sweet command swirl inside him, his bones feeling alive after so long on hearing that voice talk to him this way. "Yes, ma'am," he replies softly, and you have to hide the flush on your face and the smile on your lips behind your hands. "What happened?" your grandma asks you out of the blue, her strong sixth sense already catching the flutter in your gut. You shake your head and bribe her with the soda. Her focus is redirected instantly, but that does not mean she stops observing you through this heavenly meal. "Why didn't you get married yet?" your mother throws the question out of nowhere, making some people choke on their drink, others groan, and one snicker. "Okay, that's it," you announce, "he's staying at the hotel. Loki, you're staying at the hotel." Your mother's wide eyes look at the usual judgment of the siblings falling upon her. "What? I'm just asking this handsome man about-" "You cannot ask him that, ma," you and Ritvik groan, Shireen tsks and rolls her eyes. Loki, watching this unfold simply smirks at this pure delight he feels sitting in the midst of this family. You get up and go to the kitchen to get some more sauces for the table, all the while glaring at your mother- who chooses to not notice. The fried dough smells and tastes heavenly even though it is one heavy portion for him. Worth it, he shrugs internally and goes for another bite. His right wrist feels a tug and he witnesses the frail wrinkled hand shaking a little before pointing him to the soda bottle in front of him. "Have some sprite," your grandmother urges Loki with a smile in her eyes. Loki feels a tug on the string of his hearts. Those eyes are a mix of green, brown, grey and every mystic power of nature that can be held in the iris of a wise person. That withered face shines bright with plump cheeks and transparent emotions. "I'm...uh...I'm good, Mrs Kane, thank you," Loki reciprocates the smile, "I still have some left in my glass." Grandma nods and pushes her own glass forward. "Then pour me some, will you?" Loki cannot help but chuckle, complying with the orders straight away. "So-" your mother's voice breaks through the soothing air over the table just as you come out of the kitchen- "how much do you earn?" And you walk right back into it.

"Pretty cringy breakfast downstairs." Moving away from the view of the mountains in the near distance, Loki sees Ritvik stand by the rooftop door with a box in his hand. He can see Shireen stand behind him, bluffing disinterest as she pushes his brother away to walk towards the wires and hang the washed laundry to dry under the oddly hot December sun. "Isn't that how families usually are?" Loki smiles in his direction. Ritviz joins the man by the railings, looking at the mountains covered in thick clouds before paying attention to the maroon sweater Loki wears with his midnight blue jeans. The boy cannot help but appreciate the wide knit patterns adorn that white skin with apt beauty. "Nice sweater," he points before turning around to sit down on the platform. "Thanks, it w-" something stops Loki mid-sentence when he remembers the day he found it waiting in his bedroom- "it was a gift." Ritviz hums and smirks. "Good taste," he mutters. Shireen's eyes have been stuck on these two, reading their every word as every fabric getting in her hands is tortured with a sudden flick. "Is she a good assistant? My sister?" the brother asks. Is...that a trick question? Loki blinks at the mountains before smiling at the boy. "The best one I could ask for." A nod of agreement comes from the brother while the sister stands there giving more frustrated flicks to the sweaters. "Cool. Cool cool cool cool. So...she must keep up with whatever it is she's supposed to do." Oh for fucks sake. Shireen groans out loud. "Just ask him already dammit!" Both men turn towards Shireen. One looks at her in confusion while the other widens his eyes in caution at her, shaking his head as discreetly as possible. "Ask...ask me what?" "Nothin-" "How did Kira get hurt?" A crow yells whilst sitting on the top of the malacca as if laughing at the entire situation. Ritviz scratches some itch at the back of his neck while sighing in defeat. "You are supposed to go easy with the questions, Rin. This guy is the reason Kira has a job." "Oh, shut it, Ritz," she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "it's not like he's doing her a favour. She has earned her place, okay? And she got wounded under his care!" Loki can see the scrunched up nose and brows carry on them a rage held in for far too long. Even though those grey eyes have nothing but animosity in them for him, he feels a certain elation on seeing them stand in defence for her sister. "Oi!" RItz is about to yell at Rin but Loki cuts him on the way. "She was in an accident." The chilly breeze takes the words and swirls them around the audience. "The car she was travelling in met with a serious accident. Three of my men died that night. One survived long enough to make sure Kira was all right." The crisp heat of the sun feels warm instead of scorching. Those fine lines on Rin's forehead fade just a little; partially because of hearing those words straight from the lion's mouth, partially because the guilt is transparent to a fault in those smaragdines that shimmer more than they normally should. "I was supposed to be with her that night. I promised to take her home, safe and sound. And I regret every second of not keeping my promise, I assure you that. If there was a way to repent for being careless with Kira's life, I would gladly give myself up for it." The silence that erodes the rooftop brings a lightness to it. Rin sighs and crosses her arms while Ritz cannot bring himself to look at Loki- who is patiently waiting for a word. "Kira told us there were bad guys involved," Rin mutters while letting her fingers play with the wool of her white sweater, "and by us, I mean me and Ritz. Mom and dad have no idea about this. They still think she fell from the stairs." Loki nods. "Did they try to hurt her because of...you?" Ritz cannot help but ask. The weight that has begun to make home over his chest returns after what seems like a while. That uneasy feeling of something scratching over his heart makes him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, that is not what I meant," Ritz scrunches his face in an apology, "not that she was hurt because of you. What I meant was-" "Yes. I was the reason." "Bullshit!" Rin scoffs and laughs. That...was unexpected. "I'm pretty sure she did something to piss them off. She's done it before and she will def-fucking-nately do it again." Rin is not wrong. And the strong edge in her voice tells him she knows her sister well enough. "What I care about is that now that she works for you, she will be fighting a fight that isn't hers. And, God forbid, if something happens to-" "I won't let it," Loki is already marking down a vow, "I have witnessed it once and I am not going to let anything or anyone make her go through it again." "But you cannot promise me that she won't go looking for danger, can you?" The lift of her brow makes Loki recall why he fell for Kira. "Agreed. I cannot do that. But whatever she brings home with her, I am willing to clean the mess." "You-" Rin has to literally grit her teeth before she can find herself pouring down fire over the man who talks about her sister like... The embers burning inside her bring blood to the surface under her teeth. Of all the goddamn people in this world. She looks at those green eyes shining under the soothing rays; translucent to a fault, standing bare. "Rin," Ritz quietly urges, trying to take her by the arm. "She will get hurt again, won't she?" Ritz stands there, feeling as significant as the wind meddling with the two people standing opposite each other defending their love for the same person again and again. And if they could, they would do it endlessly. "She does not back down from a fair fight," Loki addresses something all three of them already know. "That fight is always to save someone else," Rin adds, never blinking. "One more reason for me to carefully choose my enemies," Loki concludes, never wavering his gaze. A sigh leaves Rin's lungs and she feels her watery eyes closing with a pinch of pain in the eyelids. "The audacity of this bitch," she mutters and walks away, kicking the lone brick in her path that was used to keep the blankets holding drying chilli in place. "Please don't hate her," Ritz presses, sighing at the sight of his sister stomping down the stairs, "she is mad because she does not yet know how to process the emotion of envying you." Loki's brows furrow. And Ritviz can see the question incepting from miles away, making him chuckle and scratch an itch at the back of his head. "Kira stopped singing two years ago," he began, having Loki's full attention at the mention of the name, "all the weird songs and lyrics, all the wacky sound effects and humming disappeared when she fell ill. Of course, to the world, she was suffering from insomnia. But there was so much more. We were worried it would get worse when she left for the cyber city. So easy to get lost there, you know. I knew she cried every night even though she did not say. She always called mom in the morning when she had the energy for another day. I even thought of bringing her back home one day and right that morning she called us to tell us she had landed a job in your company. And her call times got more erratic. But her voice grew stronger. I don't know if it was because of the work or people around her, but she seemed to be better. That was one hope for us till we heard about the accident from you. That must have been hard for you, man. Telling us about her? And at the same time having to tell us to not meet her because of security reasons or whatever was going on? The day she told us she was coming back we thought that was it. That she was done. That she was coming home, done with the world and stuff. The first day she came back home, she was humming." Loki blinks, feeling an old string strike. "She-" Ritz chuckles at his own disbelief- "was covered in bruises and bandages and she was humming. She narrated incidents like she had come back from some great adventure and she talked like could not wait to go back. And the last time I saw her eyes sparkle like that, Loki, was when she had created art. And that was ages ago." Words do not even dare to come up from that lumpy throat. And even though he has no idea, Ritz can only imagine what Loki must be feeling right now. "So, please don't mind if my sister envies the fact that you were able to do something she could not figure out for Kira before. She fears Kira might have experienced a high that might be too dangerous for her. I'm not saying that I completely agree with her, but she might not be completely wrong." Loki exhales, feeling a load leave him as he moves his hand through his hair. "And I'm sure you'll do what's best," Ritz shrugs and smirks, casually pointing at Loki's sweater, "I mean, she doesn't give the best gifts to just anyone." Loki looks down at his sweater and has to take some time to find in himself to chuckle through the smooth roller coaster he was sent on. "Here." He watches Ritz bring forward the box he has been carrying for a while now. "Happy birthday. From me and Rin." There is a pause in every moment in his body. Even on an extraordinary day, it would be unexpected, but this man had stopped keeping expectations from the world a long time ago. No wonder then, that this gesture hits hard right in the chest, squeezing that heart to bring up some buried or burned scripts of having the chance of making new friends and family. It is a melody- on a piano sitting at the edge of a hill, a harp standing by the edge of the sea or a cello right in the middle of a wheat field- slowly but surely engulfing him with a different warmth that he is currently too slow to figure out. The undone ribbon lies on the cemented floor underneath him. The lid hangs in his hand as the ceramic reflects the light in his eyes while he looks with a mixture of confusion and surprise. The polished piece of mug is picked up to watch the animated caricature of two really proud beings leaning next to the words in the middle. One he recognises immediately. He can never miss those golden eyes and that lited brow with a knowing smile. The other? He has a hard time breathing it in because it only ends up making him laugh. The green eyes with the smug look and red sweater with black pants against the pale skin are giving him goosebumps. 'Father of a Big, Bad Wolf' it says.

For a second you feel like he hasn't heard you walk up to him. You are about to call out his name when a thought slides in from that on itching corner of your mind and tells you to pause and breathe in this picture. Loki, the man responsible for an empire that is both feared and respected today; the man with mysteries surrounding him in as dense clouds as the men and women who have fallen for his shadowed personality. The man who can run the world but right now stands on your rooftop with dewy eyes looking at the mug your brother made for him. The man who smiles the best smile when the world isn't looking. The man you have fallen for. Hard. It is a treat to witness this soft moment and it almost stings a little when he raises his head to let his gaze fall on your face. But more than that sting, it burns so well when his pupils dilate and his face glows on sensing your presence. "Do you like your birthday present?" you have to ask. And you cannot undo this big smile that is stuck on your face today. "Like would be an understatement, darling," he mentions while carefully putting the mug back into the box. Darling. The word still holds the power to send a delicious buzz down to your core. More so when he breathes such magic into it. "Oh," you nod and pretend to question, "then I wonder what will happen when you find out the rest of them today." Those fine lines on his forehead appear for second before excitement mixed with disbelief washes them away. "What?" He is barely able to whisper through the rush that is making his skin flush. And you are loving every second of it. "Happy birthday, Mr Loki, sir," you coo sweetly, licking your lips and taking a step closer to him, "let's not waste our time. We have a lot to do in these eighteen hours." And in this very second, he is certain of one thing when he looks at you. He would make sacred grounds in your name, kiss the dirt you walked in and teach the world what love is by painting a picture of you. He will protect that smile with his life and do everything in his power to make the world safer just for you. "Oh, and for your first surprise," you mention with a skip and jump in your step- something he is witnessing for the first time and loving every part of it- "my grandma seems to like you now." He chuckles with a smile so wide that makes you giggle at the adorableness. "That's good to he-wait. What do you mean now?" But you are already turning the corner to walk downstairs, humming a tune. "Kira, what-Kira! What do you mean now?"

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 13

Having someone — two someones — constantly at his side is… disorienting. Even his aide hadn’t been quite so glued to his side, the two of them knowing the other’s routine and content to work with — and around — the other to get their jobs done.

(He… misses Beltz, for all that Degurechaff has proven herself more than competent.)

(Someday he might even have a chance to mourn…)

(No.)

(Focus.)

Alexis shoots him a concerned look, and Erich gives a minute shake of his head.

(He’s fine.)

(He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine.)

(Just one more body, one more name, to add to the ever-growing list of those he’s lost in this foolish, endless conflict.)

(And now his soulmates are here, are next to him, are in danger—)

Urahara presses into his side just the tiniest bit, head tilted away and gaze fixed on the map and papers spread across the table in front of them. He’s focused, a tiny furrow between his brows and his pale eyes flat as he takes it all in, and Erich can almost believe that the touch is accidental.

Almost.

Urahara is hesitance-uncertainty-awkwardness against him, body tense and feet planted, belying the mask of ease that he’s trying to project. It’s… strange to realize that a Reaper is nervous about him but… Erich can’t figure out what else it could be.

(Or maybe not so strange?)

(Urahara has been both everything and nothing like he expected a Reaper to be.)

Erich drags his mind back to the present and shuffles the papers in front of him while he tries to catch up with the report Weiss is giving. Not that there’s much unexpected out of the man’s mouth; they’re isolated, unable to call for backup, and being driven further back into the Empire with every week that passes.

There are markers on the map, little wooden tokens tracing the noose slowly closing around their necks.

Little hand-carved wooden tokens denoting their slow, lingering death.

(He… almost wishes he hadn’t dragged his soulmates here to his side.)

(He knew their position, knew their danger, but seeing it like this is…)

(He’s so tired…)

Alexis’ fingers drum against the table, a seemingly absent pattern that he recognizes as their childhood code for ‘talk’. It’s easy enough to remember how to tap ‘later’ back at her, and even easier to flatten his hands on the table edge in a silent appeal to let him think.

He doesn’t know what she wants to talk about, but he doubts it will be good news.

‘Good news’ is a rare commodity these days, and even when it arrives… well. There’s always a caveat.

Weiss’ report comes a close and Erich frowns down at the table in front of them, trying desperately to come up with some plan, some miracle, that will let them survive another week, another day.

(He’s given up all pretense of winning.)

(Now he just wants to survive.)

Erich stares down at the map. Tries to summon even a fragment of General Zettour’s skill. Tries to dig into his memory for something that will help, will save them, and…

He can’t.

He can’t.

His mind is blank and his hands are trembling against the table and he can’t save them.

Degurechaff glances at him across the table, and there’s a blankness in her gaze that’s perversely steadying. If even she, genius and strategist and reincarnate that she is, can see no clean way out for them—

He takes a breath. Clenches his hands. Leans forward with an arched eyebrow and a challenging stare and—

Gets to work.

(He can’t afford to be paralyzed by despair.)

(They’ll come up with something.)

(They have to.)

***

In the end, despite all their back and forth and all their attempts to strategize, more of the same is what he and Degurechaff settle on. More small raids, more careful retreating, more giving ground when such a thing would once have set both their teeth on edge.

(Frankly, it still does.)

(They just can’t afford to pander to pride over reality.)

They have too many wounded, too many exhausted and demoralized soldiers, to try for anything else. Their men can fight — will fight — because those who remain are mostly his or Degurechaff’s and thus loyal to the bone, but… it’s wearing on them. On all of them.

(The trick to guerrilla warfare, Degurechaff insists, is fervent belief and stubborn will, neither of which they have in abundance.)

(So the best they can do is keep moving, keep one step ahead, and hope that they survive.)

“General, if I may make a suggestion?” Alexis speaks into a lull, drawing everyone’s attention to her. She quirks a smile at Erich’s arched eyebrow, but her tone is level and serious when she says, “Rerugen lands are three days hard march from here. We have supplies and healers of our own, though they’re mostly herb-women and family doctors, and we have plenty of room for everyone to have a solid roof over their head.”

Erich purses his lips and glances aside; Alexis is right on all accounts and has the legal right to make the offer, since she’s the Rerugen head while he’s away at war, but it’s still… awkward.

(They don’t often allow outsiders onto their lands.)

(To accept two entire battalions of men, even as small as they are…)

“Rerugen-san…?” Urahara murmurs, fingers brushing against Erich’s elbow as concern-curiosity-loyalty slips through their connection.

(Correction, two entire battalions and one Reaper.)

“She offers our family home as refuge,” Erich informs the man, already puzzling over how best to handle bringing a Reaper home without everyone and their sibling crying for his dismissal. If the world was fair, he’d have had time on his side; time to grow used to Urahara, time to learn if Urahara was being truthful, time to introduce the man slowly to the rest of his family, but—

There isn’t time.

There isn’t time and that means bringing a potentially hostile Reaper deep into Quincy lands and—

“Ah. I’ll leave when we get close—”

“You will not,” Erich interrupts, narrowing his eyes at the man. “You will stay near me instead of going away. I will… need your weapon for…” he pauses, fumbling for the words, and sends Degurechaff a pleading look when he can’t find what he needs in his memory.

Degurechaff sighs and speaks for him, not even waiting for him to explain what he’d been trying to say. “You’ll stay with General Rerugen at all times, especially in public. Don’t stray far from him, don’t go anywhere without him, and don’t do that weird appearing and disappearing thing of yours. You’ll need to hand any weapons over to General Rerugen while we’re on Rerugen lands, including your sword, which… where is your sword?”

Urahara laughs awkwardly and leans back from the table, rubbing at the back of his head as he says, “Maa, I hid it so I wasn’t… well…” He grimaces and glances down at Erich, something like apology in his gaze as he says, “After that first confrontation, I… figured it was best if I didn’t come armed.”

“Thank you,” Erich murmurs, fighting back a shiver at the very idea of Urahara showing up with that distinctive sword at his hip. “Thank you, Colonel,” he says with a nod in Degurechaff’s direction, then purses his lips and stares down at the map in front of them. “Your opinions on the offer?”

Silence answers him, and when he looks up, Degurechaff is staring at the map and chewing on her lower lip. He can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, can sense the weighted consideration in her spiritual presence, and when she looks up there’s a measure of resignation about her that tells him her answer even before she speaks.

“I think it’s a viable option, sir,” she says evenly before her gaze cuts over to Alexis. “Are you certain of this, ma’am? We appreciate it, but giving us shelter is going to paint a target on all of your backs.”

“A target that’s already there,” Alexis answers without hesitation. “Many of our men are soldiers or officers, and all of us know how to fight, even our women and children. I’ll send our most vulnerable to our hidden shelters, and the rest of us will use the land to our advantage. You were talking earlier about guerrilla warfare being an unviable option for you, but it isn’t for us.”

Erich doesn’t react to the looks that Alexis’ words earn him from both Weiss and Schwarz, already knowing why they’re concerned. He knows what their training looks like to outsiders, knows how strange it is that they’re one and all capable of a minimum of self-defense, but…

(Their history is not a kind one, and they have grown harder to compensate.)

Degurechaff huffs and says, “If things become dangerous—”

“We know when to retreat, Colonel Degurechaff,” Alexis cuts her off. “And we have plenty of places to hide. More than enough even for you men, though I dare say they might find some of them… strange.”

Erich swallows his amusement and glances away before he can begin to laugh; ‘strange’ is an understatement, considering many of the spaces are carefully reinforced Quincy zones, anchored to hidden caves or underground bunkers. Good for training in or hiding from unpowered humans, but… distinctly unnatural in appearance.

(He’ll have to try and avoid sending any of his men into those spaces.)

(There are a few caves hidden by subtle wards instead, those will suit his soldiers much better.)

“If you’re certain,” Degurechaff says with a hint of skepticism, then leans over the table and scans the map. “Where exactly…?”

Erich reaches out and outlines the approximate location of his lands. “Here.”

She takes it all in, eyes narrowing as her mind gets to work, and then gives him a firm nod. “It’s as good a plan as any, sir, especially if your people have places we can hide out that aren’t likely to be found.”

“Not by any army our enemies can muster,” Erich answers her without hesitation, knowing it for the truth it is. Empowered humans are rare outside of lineages like his own, and he really doubts the enemy soldiers count any amongst their number.

Weiss and Schwarz exchange skeptical looks, clearly thinking about all the ways they know to hunt down and locate entrenched soldiers, but say nothing out loud.

(At this point, they’re all grasping at straws, no matter how absurd they seem.)

(Even a ghost of a chance to survive is better than nothing.)

“Is there anything else that needs to be addressed?” Erich asks when the silence begins to stretch, looking between his officers. When all three of them shake their head, he straightens up and tucks his hands behind his back. “Then you’re all dismissed. Get the camp ready, we’ll leave tomorrow at 0500 hours. Schwarz, I leave the gathering of squads for hit and run raids in your hands, coordinate with Weiss on personnel.”

“Yes sir,” Schwarz says, snapping a sloppy salute out as he does.

The two Majors file out of the tent at last, and Erich sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing at the corner of one in an attempt to chase away the stress he can feel building.

(Everything’s a mess.)

(They’re losing ground, losing hope, driven from their position by nearly fifty kilometers and cut off from the rest of the army.)

(And now they’re retreating further, aiming to hide away like cowards, like beaten curs, and there’s nothing he can do about.)

(Because they’ve been beaten like Degurechaff warned him they would be, squashed beneath the might of the entire world, and…)

(He fears what is to come.)

“Just a little longer, sir,” Degurechaff murmurs, startling him from his thoughts. Her pale blue eyes are worn-resigned-sharp but her bearing is still firm, still strong, and it… helps. Not much, but it helps. “We’ll make it through.”

He forces a smile for her, knowing it looks as haggard as he suddenly feels, and says, “I will hold you to that, Colonel.”

She nods once, glances at Urahara in question, then reluctantly stalks from the tent when Erich shakes his head.

(He’ll be fine.)

(He doesn’t need her hovering when there are things she needs to take care of.)

(Frankly, there are things he needs to take care of as well.)

(Damnit.)

Urahara’s warm hand settles on the small of his back as the man nudges him away from the table and towards the stack of crates to the side, which are about the only place to sit down in the tent.

“I’m fine,” Erich grumbles, dredging up enough exasperation to shoot Urahara a look.

“Of course you are,” Urahara says, voice bone dry. He moves his hand from Erich’s back to brush it against his right arm, bringing their shared mark into sharper focus in his mind.

Erich grimaces at the reminder and reluctantly sits down; it’s not often someone can call his bluffs so easily, and he’s a little unsettled by the idea. Alexis at least pretends she can’t, most of the time, even though they both know that’s a lie. She just… handles it differently.

(He’s not entirely certain how he feels about a Reaper fussing over him…)

“I didn’t realize how bad it was even here,” Alexis murmurs as she takes a seat next to him, her feet swinging a bit and her gaze distant.

“It’s… not been good, no.” Erich sighs and rubs at his temple, carefully breathing through the brief spike of panic as Urahara looms over him for one sharp, endless moment and… sits down on his other side.

(The worried-regretful-sheepish look Urahara sends him is almost worse.)

(Damnit, he doesn’t want to care!)

“It’s… not much better elsewhere,” Alexis says idly, flatly, gaze still distant and presence muted at his side. “We Quincy are surviving because we’ve long grown and supplied our own needs, but elsewhere… even civilians are feeling the pinch, my love, and many of them are beginning to rebel.” She heaves a sigh and casts a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “Many of our enlisted family have… returned to the Quincy lands in the past month. Those that yet live.”

(Deserters, she means.)

(Erich can’t blame them.)

(Isn’t that what they’re about to do, too?)

“I have a bad feeling about what’s yet to come,” Erich can’t help but murmur, even as he fumbles for his pocket watch, patting at his pockets with a growing frown. He needs to check the time, needs to know how many hours he has left in the day—

Urahara catches his hand and turns it palm up, gently setting Erich’s pocket watch in his open palm and folding his fingers over it. “I didn’t have a chance to return this earlier,” he says sheepishly, a little smile curling the corners of his lips as his hands withdraw.

Erich blinks down at his pocket watch, mind finally catching up with reality. “Thank you,” he murmurs as he flicks the lid open and checks the time.

(Mid-afternoon.)

(Good, he has some time to check his troops before dinner.)

“It’s very pretty,” Urahara offers almost awkwardly, swaying closer to him and leaning in to peer at the watch-face before Erich flips it closed again. “Though it seems very old.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” Erich says as he clips it in place and tucks the watch away in its usual pocket. “He had it much of his life.”

Surprise-wonder-loyalty slips through their connection, and Erich has to wonder what he did this time to surprise the man; it’s certainly not unusual for soulmates to pass heirlooms between each other, especially something practical like a watch. But… maybe it is unusual from a Reaper’s point of view?

(Do Reapers even have family?)

(How does their society even work?)

Alexis’ fingers intertwine with his own and she lifts his hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “What now?” she asks once she has his attention.

“Walking,” Erich tells her dryly, amused by the flat look she gives him in return. “I need to check on the men again, let everyone see both of you at my side. Maybe see if we can teach Urahara some Imperial in the process.”

“That’s sure to be entertaining,” Alexis says, leaning into his side to brush a kiss along his jawline.

Wistfulness creeps into his mind, and he shares a brief look with Alexis, both of them knowing the cause; they can’t extend their closeness to Urahara, not yet, not with so many unknowns and so much fear-anger-hatred between them, but… they can be kinder to him. Limit their blatant affections so as to not inadvertently tease the man.

(They’re not trying to be cruel, but… that doesn’t mean they aren’t being cruel.)

“Come on,” Erich says to Urahara as he stands up and straightens his uniform. “I have men to look at. I can teach a bit of my language too, as we go.”

Urahara perks up at his words, smile bright-cheerful-masking but… Erich suspects there’s some truth to it this time, that his paltry offer has made Urahara genuinely happy, and… it warms something in him to see it. To know that, at least for now, he’s helped.

He wants to help, wants to have, wants both his soulmates at his side the way all the best legends end and… and maybe that’s not for him, maybe he’ll never manage to reconcile Reaper and soulmate, mortal enemy and life partner, but… he wants it.

(Wants safety-concern-care, wants loyalty, wants love…)

(Now if only he could trust…)

Erich sighs and runs a hand through his hair, fingers tangling a bit in the start of curls, and forcefully shoves those thoughts aside.

“Rerugen-san?” Urahara asks, voice concerned and one hand awkwardly half-extended as if he was about to offer aid and second-guessed himself.

“The war,” Erich offers, a lie but also a truth, and steps around Urahara, ignoring the quicksilver darts emotions that he can sense from the man. If Urahara wants to cal him on his words, let him. They have other things they need to be doing and limited time to do them in.

“Maa, alright then,” Urahara says as he follows Erich from the tent. “I promise I’m a fast learner!”

Erich smiles faintly at the man’s clear enthusiasm, mind drifting to the promise of genius-fidelity-perseverance traced across his skin in the shape of a blooming plum tree. He doesn’t yet know how much is current truth and how much is future promise, but… it’s a hopeful sign.

(At this point, he’ll cling to any scrap of hope no matter how fragile.)

(It’s about all he can do, after all.)

(Just a little longer…)

(They can make it.)

[dzamie-oc]

Smaugust 22 - Gem

The Crystal Empire is full of things made of crystals: the berries, the buildings, the Crystal Heart, the ponies... Ember is going to find out just how true that last one is. Through vore. (1633 words)

cw: My Little Pony, vore, unwilling prey, digestion

"Wow, Princess, this place really is impressive to look at!" Ember craned her head all around as she, Spike, and Cadance walked towards the Crystal Palace. Behind them, Twilight and Shining Armor were catching each other up on the goings on in Canterlot and in the Crystal Empire, respectively... as well as gently ribbing each other over sibling in-jokes.

"Thank you," the pink pony empress beamed, "it's really all thanks to the Crystal Heart, the big, heart-shaped gem that uses the love and happiness of all the crystal ponies to stave off the bitter cold just outside!"

Spike noticed the Dragon Lord drooling as she looked around, and advised, "uh, just like the Ponyville castle, you shouldn't eat the buildings here, either."

"Huh, alright," Ember said, now eyeing the houses and businesses as one would eye a nice, juicy-looking fruit that was revealed to be made of wax, "and that means I also shouldn't try to eat that Crystal Heart thingy, too, right?"

Cadance laughed, fully enjoying the joke her guest had made. After a few seconds, her laugh died down and she glanced over at the dragoness, who still looked at her expectantly. Ember glanced to the side, brows furrowed for a moment in thought. "So, that's a..."

The alicorn's smile fell, replaced by a mildly stunned look. "Um, that's right. Please don't eat the Crystal Heart, it keeps all that snow and winter and darkness out of the Empire."

Ember nodded solemnly. "Got it. Things are much easier in the Dragonlands, where any crystal or gem is edible, and all you have to worry about is if it was from some other dragon's hoard." They made a few steps further before she added, "though, I suppose that would be harder here, where EVERYTHING is a gem. Crystal, whatever."

The group of ponies and dragons finally got to the castle, soon entering a dining hall with a lavish spread of Crystal Empire specialties - crystal berry jam, crystal carrots, and, at Twilight's request, hayburgers with crystal wheat used for the buns. Cadance flapped her wings, landing backwards to gesture to the veritable banquet. "Feel free to help yourself!" she declared.

A crystal pony guard walked up to her and Shining Armor, muttering in their ears. They traded concerned looks, then Shining announced, "sorry, something's come up. Twily, could you come help us with the Heart? It's probably minor, but just in case..."

Twilight smiled and trotted forward. "Sure thing, BBBFF!" she chirped, before following them out.

Spike stuffed his mouth full of crystal berries, then ran after them. "Hey! Surely Spike the Brave and Glorious could be of assistance!"

The Dragon Lord watched them go, thoroughly confused. She took a step forward and reached a hand out towards them, calling, "where are you guys going? Is this normal for a palace visit?"

Cadance turned around. "Oh! Ember, I'm so sorry. We shouldn't be long at all, but this is... it could be important." She motioned at the food-covered table. "In the meantime, feel free to avail yourself of the delicacies from the Crystal Empire!"

"Uh, sure. Heh, I'll start with the chairs!" she joked, then picked up a berry and popped it in her mouth, just in case they couldn't tell she was jokking. It burst between her fangs, flooding her tongue with a rich, juicy flavor. The dragoness only barely noticed the ponies and Spike leaving, preoccupied with the delicious berry she quickly gulped down. "Wow, these ARE good crystals..." she remarked to herself.

Her gaze flicked across the table, taking in the incredible array of crystal food, and silently marking which ones she could probably actually eat. Unfortunately, aside from the berries and other sugary-looking treats, it looked rather sparse for a dragon. She huffed in frustration, a wisp of smoke trailing from her nose. Did they really just think she'd eat Spike's diet of light, sugary stuff, and probably some gems he brought himself? That last thought gave Ember pause, and she considered that maybe it was expected for her to bring her own food... but surely they would have told her, or Spike would have.

And then, her eyes drifted off the table, and onto the lone guard in the room. He wasn't a building, nor was he the crystal heart. The dragoness smiled as she approached him, salivating at the thought of all that delicious crystal.

"Hey," she said, bluntly, "all the food in here is okay for me to eat, right? I won't be breaking some pony rule by taking something meant for Spike?" Curious, she ran a hand through the crest on his helmet. And then again. Brush-a-brush.

The guard looked up at her, professionally stonefaced, as he ignored her manhandling the plume on his helmet. "Yes ma'am; if there is not enough food, Her Highness will most likely request more be made."

"Good." A quick lick of her scaly muzzle was all the warning the guard got. In one, clean motion, the Dragon Lord pulled the guard's helmet off, brought a hand under his chin to tip it up to her, and spread her jaws wide, clamping them down over his own muzzle. The guard froze, confused at the unexpected turn of events; unfortunately for him, this gave Ember more than enough time to reach behind his head and shove it all the way in, swallowing hard.

Her long, forked tongue ran over the crystal pony, noting with pleasure that he tasted far more like a beryl gem than a pony, though his sudden, terrified thrashing left her with no illusion as to whether she was eating an actual gem or not. Regardless, a gem of this quality was something to savor, and something she would naturally give her stomach the honor of breaking up, rather than relying on her teeth. Trying to get his bearings as Ember steadily worked her jaws down his neck, the guard managed to brace his forehooves against her encroaching lips, and began to push, trying to free himself from the blue-scaled predator.

Unfortunately, Ember simply held his forelegs against his body; when he realized he was trapped, the guard changed to pushing out against her grip, but this let the dragoness stretch her maw over one forehoof, and then the other. A strong swallow and a well-placed shove saw to his legs straightening right down her throat, where a few panicked squirms and wiggles proved utterly useless, if not actively worked him deeper. Ember gulped and gulped again when her tongue found only his bland, metal chestplate, rewarded when his uncovered barrel began to slip into her drooling maw.

With one scaly hand on either side of his crystalline body, the Dragon Lord heaved him upward, swallowing again as he slipped down. The crystal pony's hooves pushed through a tight ring of muscle and into a hot bath deep within the dragon's body, one that would only get more rapidly full with gravity on her side now. The guard tried to fight back again, but all moving his forelegs did was drag him deeper into her stomach. Ember's gut growled in appreciation for the meal as her throat dragged more of him in; the guard began to curl up behind those light blue scales with only his legs and tail left - and those, too, were not long for the outside world.

Ember wrapped her long tongue around the guard's hind legs, savoring the delicious taste of beryl before one last swallow condemned the crystal pony to her belly. Satisfied, she slumped against the wall, hands on her bulging, moving gut. Wherever the guard tried to strike out against, the dragon would simply push back; between her hands, her powerful stomach, and the overbearing heat within the dragoness, Ember's body soon wore down his spirit until, exhausted, he could do little more than curl up and wait for the inevitable.

Once she had gotten her meal under control, Ember walked back over to the table and picked up another crystal berry. She weighed eating it versus savoring the taste of the beryl "gem" she had just eaten, but the memory of the first berry stood strong in her mind. With a grin, she set about eating the berries. If anydragon asked later, she most certainly was not purring as she devoured the local fruit. As she ate, she felt the oddly-shaped lump in her stomach smooth out and soften. Her gut grumbled a warning, so she tipped her head back and let out a proud belch. Pure white flame spouted from between her pointy fangs, lightly singing the ceiling before they dissipated. "Ha!" she remarked to nocreature in particular, "they ARE gems!"

Once the plate was clear, Ember crossed her arms behind her head and rested. A couple minutes later, Spike and the ponies returned. "Oh good, I had gotten worried you might not have anything to eat - Spike usually just eats sweets," Cadance said, taking her place at the head of the table, "but I'm happy to see you enjoyed the crystal berries!"

"Yeah," Ember agreed, "they go great with beryl. Probably emerald, too..." Her thoughts drifted to a green mare the group had passed on their way to the castle.

Cadance nodded. "I'll be sure to get those for you next time you visit. Thanks again for waiting; I really didn't expect it to take so long!"

Twilight chimed in, "well, the important thing is we all learned a valuable lesson about friendship!"

The ponies shared a round of laughter. Ember gave Spike a confused look, shrugged, and muttered to her, "Princess of Friendship. It just sort of happens around her." Ember nodded, only partly understanding.

She had so much yet to learn about the Crystal Empire. And, Ember suspected, so much couldn't be learned by asking Cadance.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 18

I beg your forgiveness for a shorter chapter. This was a story note that seemed to be contained by itself. As always - comments welcome and appreciated. ❤Tragedybunny❤

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Piltover’s delegation has arrived and my orders are clear, be polite and charming, put them off guard, find their weaknesses. I am the Grand General’s wife and an officer of High Command, they will throw themselves in my path, and I will pretend to be swayed by their flattery into being their ally. General Talus assigns me the contingent of warmasons from that region, to make sure our operation remains completely secure, yet another “promotion”. Jericho would likely be pleased if he ever deigned to come home. He remains the same since his return, cold, aloof, disinterested. At the very least I convinced Coraline Montrose to host the gala that would welcome our esteemed guests. She can be trusted to put together something appropriately decadent.  I already feel as though I’m made of glass, desperately keeping myself together, one more pressure might shatter me. 

We sit across from one another in heavy silence, the only noise coming from the carriage as it rattles along the street. I’m drowning in the absolute costume of a dress I’m wearing, tight black satin, a neckline that plunges low enough to just be at the edge of tasteful, and black feathers encircling my shoulders and collar. I at least look the part of his wife, even if I don’t feel it at all. Tired of staring at the floor and watching him from the corner of my eye, I finally break that silence. “Did you really threaten to have to whole Crimson Circle arrested for treason?” I don’t bother with niceties, he’d likely ignore me if I did. 

For the first time in days, he meets my eyes, no emotions to be found. “I did.” 

His lack of further elaboration doesn’t surprise me, it fits his temperament of late. “Are you mad? Do you really intend to start a feud with that fiend?” 

He makes a noise, indignant with having to be bothered to explain. “I am sending him a message. The Black Rose continues to plot in the shadows. He can either be a part of that or keep his little pet cult.” His infuriatingly condescends to me. 

“Still seems like a terrible idea to me.” I mutter turning away to look out the window. Not that he asked my advice at all anyways. I am no longer privy to his schemes and plots. 

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of the immaculate and impressive Montrose estate. It’s taken on a new life with Coraline’s manufacturing income, restoration making it gleam against some of its more time-worn neighbors. The last time we were here was Solstice. That night, between the dancing and those moments at home, there was something indefinable and soft between us. That was when I convinced myself I could live as we were, my existence complete with just his presence. I’ve had the smallest taste of more though, I’ve seen what we could be, and I can’t go back. No matter that he seems intent on doing just that, and perhaps going even further. 

He does help me down from the carriage and offers me his arm, the perfect noble gentleman. There’s no affection or warmth to any of it. Still, I put on my best diplomatic smile, unassuming and welcoming, while my heart falls down into my stomach. My fondness for these occasions has not grown, and instead of his support, I’ll have his expectations at my side. “Do try to keep that smile up, and no running off and drinking yourself into oblivion.” He whispers, as if I need reminding. Of course, his wife is merely another of his pawns, to be ordered around and used as needed to achieve his glorious vision

The ebb and flow of the crowd freezes as we enter, all eyes affixing themselves to us, the pinnacle of Noxian society. The whispers begin almost immediately, that low chorus of malice I’m accustomed to. Coraline greets us, moving to the forefront of the crowd gathered in her grand hall. Even she seems to sense the brooding tension between us, foregoing all small talk and letting Jericho drag me further into the sea of faces. It doesn’t take long before we’re swarmed by the first wave of our eager Piltovan guests. 

It’s an eclectic mix of merchants, diplomats, and scientists, and often some combination of those roles, according to the Intelligence reports. Introductions are given and hands extended, a fine pair of gloves conceal Jericho’s secret as always. Their names wash over me and drift away even as I try to latch on to them, my smile still frozen in place. For their part, they seem pleased enough, with only those I know for diplomats tempering that with prudent wariness. They press and cluster around Jericho as we part through the crowd, a more private venue the obvious destination. These are early negotiations for this trade agreement, they will try to charm us now, and press hard later, in retribution for our warmason found hidden in their city. 

He pays no mind as they wedge their way between us, intending to divide and conquer. How quaint. I take a glass of wine from a passing servant and begin to wander away, pointedly ignoring a dark-eyed woman who looks for a moment as though she’ll try to engage me. Truthfully I should do my duty, stay at his side and play my part or find some vulnerable party to extract information from. I’m so numb though, and it feels like I’m wandering in a fog. I take another sip from my glass and know I’ll likely disobey him and end up falling into sweet oblivion sometime tonight. I wander, my feet unconsciously carrying me toward the ballroom, unbidden memories stirring, threatening my constructed demeanor. Voices around me barely bother to whisper, excited by our obvious rift, they take glee in my downfall. I turn behind me to shoot a threatening glare toward a gaggle of nobility brats, I still have some pride, and I collide with a massive form, my glass mercifully empty enough to not soak us. “You trying to kill me, Kat?” A warm chuckle follows his word. If all you’ve ever know of Darius was to face the Hand of Noxus on the battlefield, you would likely never believe he was capable of that laugh. 

“Sorry, Dar.” I slip back on my mask, intent on not looking like a wreck. Darius has his part to play tonight as well, and I’ve got no wish to distract him. 

Towering above me, looking constricted as usual in his formal military attire, he studies me for a moment. “Are you alright?” And I fail utterly at my attempt to conceal it from him. 

“No, but really there’s nothing for it.” I shrug and hope that satisfies him. There’s no place private enough to even begin to confide in him. 

He rolls his eyes and lets out a massive snort. “And he’s supposed to be the smartest man in Noxus.” He mutters and puts a massive hand on my shoulder. “Whatever I can do for you, just let me know.” 

A heart of gold beats within that massive form of his; why couldn’t it have been him back in those brief days we shared together? Loving Darius would have been easy, but I suppose easy was never in my nature. “There is one thing. Dance with me?” 

He gives me a small smile and offers me his arm. “Been a long time since we danced.” 

Somehow, Darius is an even worse partner than Jericho, flinging himself about haphazardly to become a menace to everyone around us. There’s plenty of laughter though, as we cause a small retreat from the dance floor, and glares of disapproval come from all corners. I’m honestly glad Jericho’s not with me to sour it. When the music winds down he escorts me off the floor to find a much needed glass of wine. “Why are you always so good to me?” 

He gives me a smirk. “Well, I’ve got one idiot sibling, might as well take on another.” I lightly smack his arm in mock indignation. “Seriously Kat, we’re friends, even if you don’t always believe you’re capable of having friends.” 

I chew my bottom lip for a moment. He’s always had me figured out. “Thanks, it means more than you know.” I bring my glass to my lips and look up to catch the eye of a handsome, square-jawed man, blatantly staring at me.  The bright white and gold of his formal attire tell me he’s one of our guests and the staring means he’s no practiced political agent. I sigh, the fun is over it would seem. “Time to go serve my Empire. See you later Dar.” 

He turns to follow my line of sight with a quick glance and then gives me a wolfish smile. “Draven and I’ll be down at the Bowery later, getting rid of the taste of pretension. Find us if you want.”

He gives me a wink and parts the crowd, his massive form leaving an inviting space before me. That curious stranger wastes no time awkwardly inserting himself into the space. He clears his throat and presents himself with a stiff, inelegant bow. “Would you give me the pleasure of this dance…” He freezes for a moment, he hadn’t thought what title to call me by, he’s out of his depth. Good. 

“Madame is fine. I’m not here in an official capacity, and my husband and I take no titles we have not earned. And of course, the pleasure is all mine.” I hold out my hand, intending to seem warm and inviting, let him trust me. 

He takes it gingerly and unsurely follows as I lead him out onto the floor. The first note plays and his foot stomps onto mine. “Sorry.” He flushes. 

“Shh, no worries. Just let me lead.” I try to be gentle with him, guiding him where he needs to be, earning his trust. 

“You’re a sublime dancer, Madame.” He smiles, confidence growing. 

“You know what, just call me Katarina. And let me make a guess about you. You’re one of the scientists in the group.” The lack of social polish or talk of finance eliminated the other two. 

“Lovely, graceful dancer, and very keen, the Grand General is a lucky man.” I keep myself from frowning. 

“Now you’re just flattering me! And you haven’t even given me your name yet.” It sounds overly saccharine, I hope he doesn’t notice. 

His eyes go wide. “By the Shining City, how rude of me. I am Jayce, of clan Giopara. Now I have to beg your indulgence as I make a confession to you.” He pauses to await my permission. 

Perhaps this will pay off much sooner than expected. I incline my head. “Go on.” 

“I’ve been intentionally following you.” For a moment I forget to breathe, please gods, nothing like that. “I need help and I believe you may be the only one who can provide it.” I exhale, infinitely relieved. “I am seen as somewhat of a champion of Piltover. I used that to coerce my way onto this delegation because I fear greed will rule the day and something truly foolhardy will be attempted. My fellows will try to squeeze too much profit from Noxus, demanding more in tariffs and fees than ever. They believe their position is secure, snd they may take as much as they like. I am concerned they will go too far and break the Empire’s patience.” 

“Given the incident that occurred, that is disheartening but not surprising.” No use talking around what happened with the warmason, I need him to be clear and direct. 

 “We are on the same page then.” His confidence in his actions is growing. “Piltover relies on the Empire’s trade, its use of the Sun Gate. We can’t lose it. And we can’t fi…” He stops short, but it’s too late, he’s confirmed the one thing he didn’t want to tell me. That’s an interesting morsel, not all of them are convinced Piltover is invulnerable. 

“You can’t fight a serious invasion if that’s what we wanted. If your delegation pushes too far and the Grand General breaks allegiance with Piltover, you fear what war would bring. So tell me Jayce, what do you wish me to do about this situation?” I step closer to him, a bit of intimidation mixed in with my kind demeanor.

“Please speak with your husband, they may well be mollified if he holds firm but makes a small concession. Please, encourage him to be to not respond hastily. I saw you with the Hand, it seems you have his ear as well. We can reach an agreement where we both will benefit. Noxus and Piltover can be the greatest of allies and stand strong together.” He has a gusto for his idea, I’ll give him that. 

If Noxus plays the situation right though, we could end up with ever-increasing influence in Piltover, and eventually be positioned to easily subdue them. A thing I’m sure Jericho’s dreams are made of. Our dance is over and I delicately guide him off the floor. “Walk and talk with me, I would learn more about your City of Progress.” And any other secrets you may have to give me. 

I take his arm, giving him a sense of familiarity, and navigate my way towards the same back parlor from Solstice, putting the crowds behind us. “It shines like a jewel. Everything is always moving, there’s always something new. It isn’t just science, there are theaters and museums and art galleries. I hear you’re quite the patron of the arts yourself.” He beams, clearly I’m supposed to be impressed. 

If that’s the extent of their intel, Piltover clearly needs better spies. Or maybe they foolishly haven’t told their unintended member everything they know of me. I let out a soft laugh. “It would sound too self-important if I called myself that. I just throw money at things I enjoy.” 

“You should come to Piltover someday, I could show you all the sights. I’m sure you would love it.” We’ve come to a dead stop in the hall and he’s standing terribly close. “You and the Grand General of course.” He adds quickly. I’ve let this get too far, time to reign him in. 

“Perhaps when these negotiations are successful.” My heart drops as I hear footsteps behind us. 

“There you are, Katarina. Some of our guests would like to make your acquaintance.” He would decide right now is the time to come find me. 

“But of course. I was just speaking with another of our guests.” His presence is oppressive in this small space and I worry I’m not the only one that feels it.  “This is Jayce of Clan Giopara. Jayce, Grand General Swain.” 

I step back and allow them to go through the motions of civility before Jericho hooks my arm tightly in his. “Do excuse us.” Jayce nods, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing between us, as I’m lead briskly away. 

We walk in silence until we reach a cluster of diplomats who have taken over a corner of the Montrose gardens, lounging about, drinks in hand, looking pleased with the evening’s events. They pounce on me once we arrive, each greedily attempting to draw my attention, and leave a favorable impression. The rest of the evening passes in a blur one vapid conversation after another. Jericho hovers over me the entire time, ensuring I can’t escape,  speaking to me only as much as necessary. He smiles and compliments me for the benefit of the crowd, but I can see the anger in his eyes and it wears on me until I feel as though I will suffocate. 

When at last etiquette allows us to make our exit the carriage takes us home in quiet that is somehow more terrible than our journey here. I stare at the floor with no desire to even begin to speak of tonight. Instead, I try to steady the thundering of my heart against my ribcage and remind myself to keep breathing. I steal a glance at Jericho, and his gaze is fixed out the window, jaw tight, brows furrowed. As soon as we exit the carriage, with Fex and Dras closing the gate behind, I hurry to put distance between the two of us. I want to go upstairs, pull Skadi into bed with me, and sleep until the sun is high and the day nearly spent. I wasn’t fast enough and I’m only halfway across the hall when I hear the door shut behind me.  “Tell me why it was necessary for you to throw yourself at him?” Of course, he won’t let it happen like that. 

I whirl around to face him. Fine, if he wants a fight, I’ll oblige. “I was being friendly like you ordered me to!” I raise my voice, let the whole house hear, I’m beyond caring. “Or am I so beneath your notice you forgot.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh please, I could see the way he was looking at you. You were being excessively warm with him. Perhaps you were enjoying the attention.” 

“Well maybe if you could have been bothered to know where your wife was, you’d know the truth and you wouldn’t throwing a jealous fit right now.” I close the distance between us, snarling at him. How dare he insinuate this. As if I’ve ever been anything but loyal to him.

“Jealous, don’t be ridiculous, I’m not jealous. As my wife I expect you to behave with decorum in public. Other than that I care not what you do.” His voice cold he makes a dismissive hand gesture. 

“Well, if I matter so very little to you, then maybe I’ll just leave!” I just want any sign from him that it’s not true, any indication his affection for me was ever real at all. 

“Then go! I am sick to death of dealing with you and your melodramatic attitude.” I really believed he couldn’t break my heart anymore than he already had. 

The sharp burning of that pain gives way to numbness. “If that’s really how you feel.” There’s no fire in my words, no fight. What is there left to fight for? Everything was an illusion, a beautiful lie I wanted so badly to believe. I turn and head back toward the stairs. Perhaps it is my lot in life to be nothing more to anyone than a weapon to be used and discarded as needed. 

[gukai]

Windows at Night | Johnny | fluff + crack

You shoved your curtains aside, upon receiving Johnny’s text to meet at your usual place, immediately catching sight of him standing at his apartment window across the bustling street of New York. It was relatively narrow, allowing your apartment buildings, though across the street from each other, to be close enough to see the other when you needed a quick hang out. Which happened quite frequently, especially when one of you may or may not have gotten laid.

Johnny waved his hands enthusiastically upon catching your attention, immediately beginning an impromptu game of charades. He pointed his index fingers towards you, before proceeding to repeatedly push his pointer finger into his clenched fist in a lewd fashion. You decided to play with him a little, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders in confusion.

He shook his head in disapproval, immediately sensing your bullshit, but decided to humour you regardless. He began thrusting the air, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes in pleasure. You could almost hear his fake, high pitched moans, ones you’d heard countless times before upon mentioning your love life. You hid your face in embarrassment, feeling your cheeks flush when you caught sight of an elderly woman from below looking up to see Johnny humping the air. It wouldn’t have been so bad had it not been night time, the light from his apartment essentially casting a spotlight on him for all of New York to see.

You reached for your phone, quickly dialling his number, wasting no time in shouting down the line, “dear god, for the sake of the city, please stop that.”

You saw Johnny laugh, and heard him on the other end of the line, “do you understand now?”

You shook your head in disbelief, he always found ways to surprise you, which was sometimes a bad thing, but right now his comedic charms were welcome. “I didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re wondering. He actually dumped me,” you bit back a frown, wanting to keep the mood light but unintentionally dampening it.

“Y/n,” Johnny started slowly, his eyes softening, but you cut him off.

“Can we not talk about this? It’s no big deal.” You avoided eye contact with him.

He sighed deeply, “you know, if you ever need sex, I’m your guy. No strings attached.” If there was one thing about Johnny you appreciated, it was his honesty, sometimes brutal, but he always delivered it in a humorous way where you could never hate him. You knew he was serious though in this confession, though his tone seemed joking. You had to know him well enough to notice and understand his use of subtle sincerity.

You chuckled, turning to look at him and blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, “thanks for the offer, but you know I don’t think of you like that.”

Johnny and you had been childhood friends, meeting each other at the same daycare and attending the same schools, even moving to New York together from your small town to attend the same university. You always had each other’s backs, like the sibling you always wanted but never had, but better. There were some things you couldn’t tell your sibling that you could tell your friend, and vice versa, but with Johnny, you could tell him anything. You had your fights, but they never lasted long because the beauty of your friendship outweighed the petty disagreements.

“Are you calling me ugly?” he raised his eyebrows, placing his hand on his hip and sassily popping it to the side.

Your eyes widened, giggles littering your sentence, “no, that’s not what I meant at all I just mean-”

“You mean I’m out of your league. Okay, that makes more sense,” he smirked, smoothing his hair back, prompting another fit of laughter from you.

“You asshole that’s not what I meant,” you grinned.

“This is your operator Johnny speaking. For a good time dial 1, for coitus dial 2, for a hit-it-from-the-back and run dial 3-”

“Hmm, so many options, what to choose,” you rolled your eyes, still grinning with amusement, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

“For a rendezvous courtesy of the genitals dial-”

“Johnny! Okay I get it,” you practically yelled, waving your arm at him to stop.

“You will be getting it if you want it,” Johnny eyed you from his window, all traces of humour had left his voice, “but I charge extra for spanking,” he grinned, eyes narrowing as he bit his lower lip seductively.

You felt your entire body cringe, yet a tiny part of you, deep down, wanted him to keep talking. But more sensual and less like an awkward virginal, yet horny, preteen. Johnny could be alluring if he wanted to, you’d seen the way he flirted with girls, hell, even with the girls he was already dating. But with you it was never this...blatant. He knew where to draw the line, what you were and weren’t comfortable with, but right now you were starting to question the line.

“My penis is yours, first and foremost,” he placed his hand over his heart, staring at you with such sincerity, you would’ve thought he was confessing his love. You wished, anyway.

“I’ll leave it in my will. Everything else can go to science, but this pepper is yours. My brain; who needs it?” he shrugged his shoulders, looking to the side dramatically, “my heart; who is she even?” he said with furrowed brows, raising his hands questioningly, using such exaggerated gestures, you understood why he always got the lead roles in school plays.

“Where would I be without my penis? Where would I be without Penis? I wouldn’t exist without Penis-” he continued his soliloquy, gazing off into the distance.

“This is going down a weird path,” you mumbled, clearing your throat.

“Yeah let’s change the subject,” he said, face splitting into a grin once he met your unimpressed expression.

“I’m really okay, though. Thanks for the support,” you smiled, clutching the phone to your face, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Anything for you, kid,” he winked, “which reminds me,” he patted his jean pockets, “shit, I must have left it in my other pair of blue jeggings,” he laughed, disappearing from view.

You stepped closer to the window, watching the cars whiz by and pedestrians narrowly avoid getting hit as they ventured across the street. Your chest ached when you caught sight of a man with his hand around his partners waist, holding them close to his chest as a cool breeze whistled through the streets.

You jumped in your skin when your apartment doorbell rang, immediately jerking your head to side, flinching when your bones cracked loudly.

You looked down at your pjs, sighing, but fully prepared to greet the delivery boy wearing an oversized band T-shirt and stained sweatpants. Boy, were you mistaken when you opened the door to see Johnny, all 6 feet of him in the living flesh towering over you like the Empire State Building itself.

“Okay, I’m back,” Johnny announced, slightly out of breath. “As I was saying before, I would do anything for you,” he had something cradled in his hands, though his long fingers kept turning it over, playing with it and obscuring it from your view.

“I know this may be sudden, a little unexpected,” he swallowed, “but- holy shit what’s that?”

You spun around on you heel upon seeing his terrified expression, pupils dilating and heart pounding in your chest like you had just run a marathon. You looked back at him confused upon seeing nothing wrong, “what?” urgency evident in your voice.

“Sorry, it was nothing,” he admitted.

“You scared me to death,” you frowned, hitting his chest and running your hands nervously through your hair, the last traces of adrenaline still running through your body and causing you to look over your shoulder one last time.

“Sorry,” he said, unable to hide his amused smile, “I just got a bit nervous.”

“You? Nervous?” You couldn’t remember a single moment in your life where you witnessed Johnny nervous. He never got stage fright, never got scared of being evaluated for presentations or shied away from being the centre of attention at parties. He oozed confidence, he always seemed so sure of himself, something you admired and envied him for.

“About what?” you said, immediately noticing his fidgeting feet, the nervousness showing through his restless hands winding and knotting together.

“About this,” he said before cupping your neck with one hand, dragging your lips to meet his. He was gentle, but firm, stabilizing the erratic thoughts running through your mind, and the nerves building up in your stomach that caused your knees to wobble. You were shocked, but elated, you felt comfortable, but unsure.

You lifted yourself up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and deepening the kiss, savouring the first taste of Johnny. You had smelled him thousands of times before; his clothes, his flat, but this was different. He was so close, his hair was so soft between your fingers. His lips were impossibly soft, nose brushing against yours, him breaking away to kiss the tip of yours between kisses, him sighing against your lips, voice reverberating in your bones. His whole presence was intoxicating, surrounding and all consuming and the fact that it was Johnny, someone you had a rich history with, made the moment that much more meaningful.

“Johnny,” you sighed, the taste of his name now different in your mouth.

“This is for you,” he said, pulling away but keeping his hand on your waist, handing you the object he had been holding.

It was a little black box. A ring box.

“Are you-?” you started to panic a bit.

“Open it,” he said, watching your hesitant hands.

“Johnny, what is this?” A simple gold band was in the box, with the message When one door closes a window opens engraved on the inside in his handwriting.

“It’s whatever you want it to be-,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled, “a proposal,” he tucked your hair behind your ears, watching fondly as you shyly turned over the little ring in your hands, “a ball and chain,” he laughed. He used his index finger to raise your chin to meet his eyes, “I’ll never make you feel suffocated or trapped. When you’re with me, you’re free,” he said in a hushed voice.

Your eyes darted between his, trying to gage his reaction.

“The door is literally right there, you could run away from all of this if you wanted,” he said, “if this isn’t what you want,” he said a little more quietly.

“A promise,” you blurted out, grasping his hands in yours, “it’s a promise.”

He smiled, pulling you to his broad chest and wrapping his warm arms around your shoulders, “it’s a deal.” You felt safe, reassured, like he could be your home, somewhere you’d run if you’d ever needed a place to go when you were lost or confused, or when you simply didn’t know where to go. He could be that person.

“It’s a promise,” you mumbled stubbornly against his chest, “not a deal. This isn’t some business exchange.”

“Same deal,” he grinned, kissing the crown of your head.

And you realized how the line between love and friendship with Johnny was blurred. How it was blurred in everything. Some friends you kissed, some you had sex with, some you had romantic feelings for, and some you did all and more, or less. That all this playful banter and bickering was just a euphemism for how you two truly felt about each other. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out before, had you decided to start dating when you two were hormonal, angst-ridden teenagers. Maybe all those failed relationships were practise for the real deal, and it was some cruel cosmic plan to have you run around blindly guessing and knocking on bolted doors, only to come full circle and end up with the person who had been there from the beginning.

But all of that speculation didn’t even matter, because if there was one thing you were certain about, it was Johnny.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | JANUARY 2019

Happy 1D Fanworks Appreciation Day-Anniversary! I want to thank all the amazing authors and artists who make this fandom as special as it is. Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into your works and the courage to share them with us! Here are all the fics I read and loved this month:

Be Mine, Little Valentine || FullOnLarrie || PWP - strangers to lovers - 7k All Louis wants is to find someone who'll love all of him. There's just one tiny complication. Made From Love || lovelarry10 || Christmas - mpreg - established relationship - 14k It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry. Harry, however, seems to be oblivious. Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas... We are timeless || Star_Henderson || brief encounter - lost love - 75k Louis and Harry meet as teenagers and have a sweet encounter in Ibiza. Years later they meet up again... Hymns for restless stars || turnyourankle || Christmas - famous/not famous - 37k Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place. You're Here, Where You Should Be || lululawrence || Girl Direction - friends to lovers - fluff - Christmas - 5k Three years after having last seen her best friend, Louis shows up at the Christmas party Harry's family throws every year. Old feelings might not be as buried as Harry had thought. Where the love light gleams || velvetnoodle || Christmas - exes to lovers - fluff - angst - 7k When his lonely Christmas Eve is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of his ex-boyfriend, Louis, Harry is hesitant to believe that it’s fate. What begins as a series of random coincidences slowly morphs into an evening of second chances and holiday miracles and peppermint-flavoured kisses that could change Harry’s future forever I hate to Love you || brainwaves, Thingssicant || mpreg - college/university - enemies to lovers - 5k Harry and Louis are co Captains with a love/hate relationship. Winter Pines and Ocean Eyes || binarysunsets || arranged marriage - mythology - 14k The arranged marriage au between young viking Harry, son of his clan's chief, and a certain caesar by the name of Louis, heir to the empire. Life Saver || objectlesson || High School - slow burn - friends to lovers - fluff - 30k Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry? If Anyone Knew || StarFar || a/b/o - soul bond - mpreg - friends to lovers - soul mates - hurt/comfort - attempted rape/non con - slow burn - 50k Harry’s a young alpha who’s strangely gentle. Louis’ an omega who’s strangely protective. Being the only ones in the band who aren’t betas they automatically empathise with each other and decide that it’s their job to look after each other. Or Harry and Louis through the early One Direction years in an a/b/o universe. You Bring Us Together (Can't Tear Us Apart) || homosociallyyours || Ziam - establishes Harry/Louis - mental health issues - anxiety - PTSD - reunion - exes to lovers - fluff - angst - 16k The 2020 OT5 Reunion fic that your heart wants to heal with. Of the Earth || angelichl || strangers to lovers - pining - hiking - camping - minor injuries - 24k Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way. Worth Dying For || whoknows || a/b/o - royalty - bodyguard - 44k “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him. “A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers. Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?” At the end of my rope || safona || canon compliant - 5k The one where they go to Crete and Harry is definitely hiding something. I’d Like To Buy an ‘O’ || FallingLikeThis || Wheel of Fortune AU - humor - 1k When Louis fails at Wheel of Fortune but, by some miracle, not his love life. You Got a Heart So Big || livvywritesgay || fluff - strangers to lovers - 5k Louis' ex leaves him with a pregnant cat, and Harry helps birth the kittens. First Impressions || Chelsea Frew || canon divergence - fluff - disabled character - famous/not famous - 10k It's love at first sight when Louis, a member of popular boyband No Control, takes part in a charity event and meets photographer Harry Styles. After Louis finagles Harry's number from the charity organisers, he sets off on a mission to go out on a date with Harry. Despite differences between them that might seem insurmountable to some, Louis is determined to prove that those differences are nothing whatsoever when put up against the tremendous spark of their instant connection. Absolutely nothing. Crying lightning || frenchkiss || amnesia - angst - fluff - enemies to friends to lovers - 42k Louis doesn't remember the accident, and when he wakes up he finds that he doesn't remember any of the last ten years of his life either. All he knows is there's some curly-haired bloke by his bed claiming to be the husband he shares a house, a dog, and a life with, two siblings he's never met before waiting for him in the waiting room, and more niggling questions at the back of his head than anyone can physically answer. This really isn't how he planned to spend his Wednesday. My Star in the Sky || angelichl || a/b/o - friends to lovers - roommates - 23k Louis and Harry have been best friends since they were kids, despite the fact that society and biology say they should be something more. Everything changes when Louis mistakenly returns to their flat during Harry's rut. Our love was made for movie screens. || sweetkisses || a/b/o - amnesia - soul bond - angst - fluff - 8k Harry wakes up and doesn't know anything about anything and Louis is his omega. Making Waves || Anonymous || Overboard AU - enemies to lovers - amnesia - enemies to lovers - kid fic - light angst - 30k The one where Louis can’t remember, Harry needs money, and Niall has a plan. An Overboard AU. Going live || jaerie || Camboys - strangers to lovers - 15k Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

[theimpossiblescheme]

Rules: Answer the soft Q&A’s and tag 5 of your most recent followers and 3 of your biggest fans/fave blog/users! I was tagged forever ago by the wonderful @saferincages—thank you so much, dear! ♥

what’s the smell of your shampoo?: I bounce between a lot of different shampoos to keep my hair healthy (I have really thick, curly hair that’s stupidly high-maintenance, and I don’t always have time to wash it), but right now I’m using a strawberry/blueberry blend.

what’s your aesthetic?: Appreciation of platonic love, gentleness and kindness to everyone, fairy tales and folk legends, packed theaters right before the curtain rises, flowers of every color, raspberry tea and strawberry acai, ever-falling and rising anxiety, flowing Gothic dresses and beautiful haunted castles, urban fantasy with fantastical creatures and everyday magic found everywhere, optimism about human nature and the possibility of redemption, late green and pink spring right before golden summer, warmth and comfort, stacks upon stacks of beautiful and well-loved books, somewhere between Rococo and German Expressionist art, Old Hollywood and campy old horror and science fiction, the well-behaved women who don’t make history, Silver and Bronze Age comic books, electroswing and neon-noir straight out of Bioshock, escapism into adventures and characters, gentle storms outside…

what is your favourite time of the day?: I think I like the afternoon best—there’s the most potential to make something of the day before the sun goes down.

what do you like the most about the beach?: I haven’t been to an beach in over five years (Alaska more has cliffs and rock beds than actual sandy beaches), but I remember very vividly going to visit the Santa Monica pier with my mom and sister when we were visiting California in the fall.  It was way too cold to go swimming or anything like that, but I could have sat on the pier and watched the tide come in for hours.

what do you worry about constantly?: There’s nothing I don’t worry about, honestly—anxiety is a bitch and a half. I used to worry about my grades to the point of making myself sick, but now that I’ve gotten to my final semester of college, I’m even more worried about paying for grad school and finding a job in my chosen field.  I know that acting isn’t exactly a stable workforce, but I would hate myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t spend at least part of my life doing it.

what is a song you’ve cried to before?: “Beautiful Times” by Owl City—it was recommended by @askarkham as a sort of anti-suicide/coping with depression song, and it’s such a beautiful song that can overwhelm you the first time you listen to it.

what are some relaxing tips for your followers?: I would say not to care about what anyone thinks of you, but I know that isn’t always practical.  In our personal and practical lives, there are always going to be people we want to be happy and pleased with us, whether they’re loved ones or employers.  So I would advise making a list of the people you really care about.  Maybe your parents are on there, your partners, your bosses, your siblings, your best friends, your favorite teachers and coworkers… these are the people that really matter.  Everybody else can go fly a kite.  You don’t need the weight of everyone in the world’s approval on your shoulders, so it’s best to narrow it down to the ones you really love and value and let the rest of them go.

what are some things that make you tear up?: Beautiful music, powerful and bittersweet moments in movies and books (I tear up every single damn time at “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!” from The Return of the King), posts about recovery and coping with depression and panic, hugs from people I love, accounts of sickness and pain (I have terrible mind over matter and can feel sick very easily), unexpected stress, and feeling like I’ve let people down.

what is your favourite from each of the five senses?: sight: My family and friends coming to see me, either in real life or online| smell: Sugar, lavender, and sandalwood | touch: Dog and cat fur, the warmth of a fireplace| taste: Berries and lemonade, vanilla and cream cheese| sound: Live showtunes and orchestras tuning up

what is one alternate reality you’d want to be in?: Any reality where I’m a successful theater actress and not just a starving artist is great for me.  Although Jess’s idea of a bakery with flowers and good books and food and this beautiful aura sounds perfect as a sidegig.

what are some troubles you face on a day to day basis?: One of the reasons I was really sure I have depression as well as anxiety (I’m on an actual antidepressant now, which is awesome) is that I’m always tired.  No matter how much sleep I get the previous night, I constantly have no energy and thus very little motivation to get up and do things, even if it’s just finishing homework or eating more than one meal a day.  I try to give myself a firm kick in the ass to get things done every day and to be there for my friends here online because they deserve the best, and I need to be the closest to my best that I can be. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.

what is one scene of a book that’s made you really sad?: The Black Cauldron by Lloyd Alexander was one of the first times I can remember a book really delivering a huge gut-punch.  Adaon’s death was definitely upsetting because it just seemed so wrong that he’d seen it coming all this time and had so long to come to terms with it, and the really dour Empire Strikes Back-style ending where the day had tentatively been won, but at a great cost.  It was the first time a book I’d read had really tackled the idea of people being both good and evil and the inherent tragedy of that idea—nine-year-old me was really taken aback.  That entire series is still one of my formative influences.

say something to all your followers: You guys are honestly too wonderful.  I know I can be inconsistent and random and engage a little too much in The Discourse than is healthy, and I can disappear for long periods of time without even meaning to.  I know I need to try harder at being more active again, and every single one of you guys have been absolutely lovely.  I can’t express how grateful I am—bless you all.

tagging: @enygmass, @hawkeyesout-punks, @cosetteskywalker, @un-fledged, @songofthesstars, @purplezprout, @katelyn-pace, and @midnightalex12—have fun, my dears!  💖✨🌼

[felassan]

Celebrating “Mass Effect: Andromeda” - A 7 Day Meme

I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things

By now you’ve no doubt seen BioWare’s official announcement that there will be no singleplayer DLC for Mass Effect: Andromeda. It’s unfortunate news, and for many passionate fans of the game, saddening and discouraging. But ME:A was (and still is) a lot of things to a lot of people, and lots of people on Tumblr and elsewhere are still actively playing and posting about the game, and participating within the fandom. To mark the ‘end’ (as it were), and for some positivity at this time, @omegastation and I thought it would be nice to hold a week where people can celebrate and commemorate the game, talk about aspects of it that they enjoyed and stuff it made them think about, and mention the good things it brought them, from feelings to friends. It’s kind of a neat closing bookend to the ME:A 30 Day Countdown Ryder Meme @omegastation and I put together and hosted before launch. Feel free to join in! Signalboosts are welcome.

The meme begins tomorrow, Monday 21st August! But you can do this or join in any time you like. Please post responses to the tag #meacelebrationmeme. We will try to read as many as we can! Remember to add relevant spoiler tags to your posts if they contain spoilers, especially if you discuss the novel Nexus Uprising or the comics, as not everyone has read them. For the purposes of this meme, the game, novel and comics are all included. Go into as much or as little depth and detail as you feel like, and feel free to use prompts as a springboard if there’s anything in particular you want to highlight or discuss.

Don’t forget, there are also Appreciation Weeks for Andromeda still ongoing and to come! The calendar is here, and next week is Lexi T’Perro Appreciation Week! ;)

#1 - Monday: Ryder Day

How did your Ryder turn out? Were they how you expected, or more unexpected? If pre-launch character-building is your thing, how similar were they to the concept you had planned out? Did they take on a life and personality of their own as you played?

Optional - Retrace your Ryder’s journey. What were their motivations? What decisions did they make, major and minor? Why? Is there anything they would do differently, if they were able to go back in time?

The epilogue of the game is quite open-ended, and the deciding power is now in your hands! Where is your Ryder’s head and heart at by the end of their first adventure in Andromeda? What are their new hopes and aspirations? Where are they headed now? What about their sibling?

#2 - Tuesday: Characters Day

We met a whole host of colorful new characters in Andromeda, many of whom became like friends and family. Who was your favorite major character, and why? What about minor characters? Which squadmates did you take out into the field the most? Were there any characters you took a while to ‘get’ or to warm up to? Which character had the biggest impact on you? Whose development arc did you enjoy the most?

Note - Being critical of a character is acceptable, character bashing/hate is not in the remit of this meme. Thank you!

#3 - Wednesday: Relationships Day

Did your Ryder have a best friend? How did they feel about their family? Which non-romantic relationships were most important to and impactful for your Ryder, and why (these can be positive or negative relationships)? Who did you romance first (if anyone) and who was your main romance (if applicable)?

Which relationships between characters (including ones that don’t involve Ryder) interested you most? Were there any in particular which moved or gripped you? How did your Ryder relate to figures like Sloane, Reyes, Evfra, and Tann, and what were your own thoughts on them? How did they/you feel about the Kett as a threat and the Archon as an opposing force?

#4 - Thursday: NEW STUFF Day

With fresh blood on the writing team, the jump to a whole new galaxy, and forward on platform generations, Andromeda added a lot of cool new things to the franchise - species (sentient and otherwise), planets and other locales, combat elements, technology, discoveries… Talk about your favorite takeaways from among these. What did you enjoy about them? Which ones could the OT have benefitted from having? Which planet was your favorite and why? What were your thoughts on the Angara? If you play multiplayer, do you feel like they made improvements there? And yes, you can absolutely answer with an essay about your love for the jump-jet if you want! ;)

#5 - Friday: Lore Day

Who was the Benefactor? What’s the deal with the Jardaan? Where did they go? Who (or what) were they fighting? What’s going on with the Kett Empire? Who killed Jien Garson, and why? What could happen with Ellen Ryder’s possible cure? Andromeda brought us heaps of intriguing new lore information, and left us with some unanswered mysteries, both big and small. Discuss your thoughts, guesses and speculations with regards to these (including any not listed here). Do you have any pet theories of your own? How about favorite theories from among the fandom? Which Andromeda-specific lore-mystery keeps you up at night the most?

#6 - Saturday: Fandom & Community Day

ME:A was the game through which @omegastation and I connected, and we’re sure other people must have similar stories. ♡ Did you make any new friends or connections through the ME:A fan community (and how?) - for example, through lore discussions, RPing, mutual love of the same character, sharing about your OCs, or multiplayer? Besides your own (!), whose Ryder[s] is/are your favorite[s]? Whose ME:A art (of any form) do you just adore? Are there any ME:A-heavy blogs that you love to follow? Give them all a shout-out, share your recommendations and love on them here! ♡

Optional - Share any creative works or endeavors ME:A inspired you to do that you’re particularly proud of here! This includes but is by no means limited to fanfiction, fanart, forum threads, edits, gifs, videos, meta posts, collaboration projects, aesthetic collections/inspiration blogs, etc.

#7 - Sunday: Introspective Day

Consider the game and the feelings and reactions it elicited in you. Which moments in the game were absolute high points for you? Which parts made you joyful? Which parts made you laugh? Which emotional notes in the plotline are you still reeling from? Are there any aspects of the game you’re still mulling over (for example, thematically speaking, decisions Ryder made that you’re still unsure about, or in regards to social issues)?

On reflection, what do you think Andromeda did well? What would you have sought to have done differently if you had been a dev? As above, criticism and constructive feedback is welcome - bashing/hate is not appropriate for this meme.

Now, let’s look towards the future. Hopefully, ooone day in the distant future, they’ll take the Mass Effect IP ‘off ice’. What are your preferences where potential future games are concerned - do you want to see a direct sequel to ME:A? Another ‘reboot’? Would you want to play as Ryder again? What direction would you want it to go in? The sky's the limit for this question!

A small closing note: Sincerely, we want to thank the Mass Effect fan community for an enjoyable, thought-provoking last few months. It’s been an interesting ride! Our hope is that this meme helps people process the news and their associated feelings somewhat, at least on a small scale. We hope that you continue to enjoy Andromeda and each other, and keep creating, connecting, discussing and debating together as a community! We’re looking forwards to reading your responses. Thank you for participating. =)

[ptw30]

Blade!Shiro Masterpost

Summary: It isn’t easy being the only human in the Galra Empire. After Shiro’s human father and Galra stepmother leave he and his half-Galra brother, Keith, to fend for themselves, Shiro resorts to the worst-case scenario time and time again to survive. And now that Keith is sick and in desperate need of medicine, Shiro has no choice but to proposition a high-ranking Galra official. But this time, it might not be GAC he receives – but salvation.

i.e. How Shiro becomes the only human member of the Blade of Marmora

Stunning art by xblackpaladin

Warnings: Mature themes throughout, including non-consensual marking, prostitution, graphic violence, and heavy angst. 

I use #blade!shiro to tag all the entries in this story, so if you do not wish to see this series, please blacklist it. Thank you! 

Story links under cut

The Series  

Worst-Case Scenario: Shiro propositions Ulaz and instead of receiving GAC, he receives salvation. (NSFW - prostitution, mentioned, not graphic)

Adoption:  As Shiro and Keith settle into the Communication Base Thaldycon, thanks to Ulaz, other members of the Blades of Marmora take offense to the brothers' intrusion, and Shiro has to decide what's more important - keeping his brother or saving him. (only on AO3)

The Commander’s Human Lover:  On a mission for the Blade, Thace gets help from an unexpected source - Sendak’s mate. Too bad the person-in-question doesn’t know it. (NSFW, sensuality)

First Mission: Shiro gets his first mission with the Blade of Marmora, and he’s not happy with Kolivan’s choice for his partner.

Haunted: Sendak is visited by the ghost of his past lover. Maybe. 

Appealing Destiny: Kolivan tries to save Shiro the only way he knows how - and Ulaz is not pleased.

Double-Edged Dagger: Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight against ourselves, but they are winnable if we have the right weapons, which in Shiro’s case is his new, eccentric but caring family.

Introduction to Galra Culture: Shiro can’t leave Keith with Thace for five minutes without something happening to the kid.

Galra Culture 102: While Keith is accepted into the Blades’ pack, Shiro is not, and the future Black Paladin is forced to come to some difficult realizations.  

Scar Tissue - Shiro’s past comes to light, and he worries about his future with the Blades.  

Part One: In which Kolivan loses his “universe’s best Galra!dad mug” (mature)

Part Two: After Shiro’s former life is revealed to Kolivan, the youngest Blade copes with “help” from the Black Lion and Keith.

Part Three:  “Destiny must find a new victim to extort.”

DVD Commentary: “How does one tell his cub he is fated to fight not just for his life but also the freedom of the entire universe?”

Epilogue: Shiro can’t escape his past, but his pack won’t let him drown in it.

Quintessence Sharing: or “how Shiro got his inking.” 

Date Night: On a mission to a sport port bar with Antok and Kolivan, Shiro sees a surprise patron - Sendak. 

Battle Hazard: When Kolivan's hurt and Shiro offers to help him, one of Shiro's biggest disadvantages in battle is revealed.

Catnip: Antok and Kolivan walk in on one of Shiro and Keith’s sibling disputes.

An Eternity: Ulaz has an unexpected visitor in his quarters aboard Sendak’s ship.

The Red Paladin:   Shiro brings Keith’s presents when he’s away more than three quintaints. This time, he brings destiny.

Crossing the Border

Part One: Precautionary Measures 

Part Two: Proper Documentation 

Shock to the System: Shiro has a violent allergic reaction. 

The Guardian Spirit Fire:  Puberty not only brings hormones but also paladin powers. So I guess Shiro was a late bloomer.

Tail Piercing: Keith wants a tail piercing; Shiro says no. Yeah, Keith doesn’t take that well.  

By Omission:  Keith hopes for some freedom at a swap meet; Shiro hopes to keep his little brother by his side; and Kolivan just wants less grey fur [i.e. the story where Keith finds out about his brother’s status in the empire]. Only on AO3.

Separation Anxiety: Shiro is sick and has a heart-wrenching request for Antok. 

Broken Blade: Captured by the Galra Empire, Shiro reunites with Sendak and is forced to face some hard truths about his past and his future. 

Notes on Broken Blade - triggers and spoilers 

Part One: Shiro learns the cost of awakening a blade.

Part Two:  Shiro tells Ulaz what happened on the mission that led to his "capture." (Tumblr Link)

Part Three: Shiro returns to the Blade of Marmora headquarters with the paladins and finds his relationship with Kolivan fractured; in his first meeting with Sendak following his capture, Shiro is forced to face his torrid past with the commander. (Tumblr Link)

Part Four:  AKA “The Honeymoon Period.” Shiro and Sendak spend two weeks alone on a Galra battlecruiser on the way to Central Command and attempt to find some common ground - and maybe some way to relieve the boredom. (Tumblr Link)

Cultural Shock: Shiro teaches Sendak an important part of Earth’s culture - the selfie. (Yup, I went there.)

Second Chance: “They were ours before you awakened.”

Self-Preservation or Lack Thereof - Keith sees more of Shiro’s scars. 

Whole: Lance brings Hunk and Pidge to meet Keith in his shack, a la “The Rise of Voltron.”

Brother-in-Law: Sendak contacts Keith when Shiro stops writing him. 

Late-Night Needs: Sendak has some rather specific needs in the middle of the night. (Strong language; discussion of sex but nothing really happens)

Hole in the Sky: Shiro and the Paladins go across the glowy, explode-y thing to meet Sven, Slav, and Akira. 

Never Again: Following the events of “A New Defender,” the pack worries for Keith’s safety. 

The Blood of the Covenant:  Shiro meets the one person from his past he never thought he’d see again, and it makes him appreciate all he’s gained in his young life.

A Formal Declaration of Pursuit: Sendak sends Shiro a formal invitation to dinner. 

Washed Away: Shiro gets the urge to groom Sendak. (NSFW - semi-graphic sex)

Testament - Keith is injured during a battle; Shiro refuses to leave him. 

Story Series on AO3

Various stories of the series that don’t quite fit in the flow - mostly fic requests 

The Emperor and the Blade  - An exploration into Kolivan’s mating mark

Swedish Fish and Tiny Tails - Shiro meets his little brother for the first time.

Owned - Sendak is interested in someone on the dance floor of the bar, but he misreads the entire situation.

Unfamiliar Scent - Keith meets Ulaz for the first time.

Space Family - Keith learns what scent means to a pack.

Admission - Kolivan’s reactions to finding out about Shiro’s past in “Scar Tissue,” Chapter One.

The Once and Future King - Zarkon confronts Kolivan about the cub and new Black Paladin he’s adopted. 

Out of the Blue - Shiro and Keith feel a new presence awaken in their souls - the Blue Paladin.  

The Mission: Takes place during “Crossing the Border” - how Kolivan takes Shiro’s captivity. 

DVD Commentary: “Never Again”

Birth-Quintant: Prompt: Wat if the blade did something to celebrate Shiro or Keith’s birthday? Since they probably never really had one since their parents left.  

Not Ready: Kolivan is hurt, and Shiro refuses to leave his side. His pack doesn’t let him suffer alone.

Adoption (Part Two):  Shiro is the leader of their pack - and he’s adopted everyone on the Castle of Lions - except Lance. Yeah, Lance isn’t hurt, though. No. He’s not. Really. (Okay, maybe a little, but he’s certainly not jealous.)  

Learning You: Sendak/Shiro bad sex - Shiro and Sendak have difficulty with intimacy after so many years apart. (NSFW non-graphic after/before sex scenes)

Skin Deep:  Shiro reflects upon scars he received before becoming a member of the Blade of Marmora (Shendak).

Operation: Kuron - Kolivan makes a difficult decision - what to do with clones of his eldest cub.  

Father and Son - prompt Zarkon/???? twu wuv - Zarkon beckons Shiro to the astral plane for some father-son bonding time.

Confession -   tender Shendak - Shiro decides he doesn’t want to let Sendak go ever again.  

#Sharpening the Blade - Blade!Shiro meta posts

Sendak’s reaction to Shiro’s disappearance

Zarkon/Haggar after Shiro’s captured

Shiro and Keith’s Parents (potential spoilers abound)

Great Things - AKA How Haggar Became a Soccer Mom (Honerva is Shiro’s Biological Mom AU)

How Moira/Blades React to Sendak and Shiro’s Relations (spoilers/NSFW - sensuality, implied sex)

Shiro’s diseases following the events of “Worst-Case Scenario” (Discussion of STDs)

Lotor’s Introduction - and White Lion slippers 

Becoming Galra - Shiro’s run-in with Haggar leaves him with more than a robotic arm in this prompt (warning: grooming - as in, cat grooming)

A Note on Becoming Galra - about Shiro being human. 

Keith and the Space Mice AU - The Druids make Keith extra-smol. 

Do the Galra have weddings?

Would Sendak and Shiro have a kit?

Shiro Stayed with Sendak AU

What if Ulaz hadn’t picked up Shiro and Keith AU

Shiro stays with Sendak AU

Shiro is the royal consort; Lotor is his slave

If Lance Had Stayed and Become Part of the Pack AU

The Pack Panel - AU Prompt - What if as Lance and Keith get older (growing up together) the Blades have to point out to Shiro that Keith has started courting behavior toward Lance. 

An Altean in a Galran Pack - Prompt - what would have happened if Lance had been able to stay with the Blade, and Keith and Shiro? - He’d get a big brother and a yupper. 

[kidolegend]

Renewals - A Prompto Argentum Fic (Part 4)

Previous | AO3 Link

Hello! As a special tribute to Episode Prompto–which is coming out in less than 24 hours AAAA–I’ve decided to post another chapter of Renewals~ I’ll be getting to a regular, weekly posting schedule after this chapter, but hey! Aylin and Prompto finally meet and have their first conversation! How exciting~

As always, any comments, reblogs, moral support, constructive criticism, or just some hellos are always appreciated~

Tagging: @blindbae @joioliviapolaroid @xnoctits @themissimmortal @poisonous-panda​  @insomniascure​ @thegoddesseos​ @crossedquills​ (and as always please message me if you would like to be removed from my tagging list)

Not Noct… Or Noct Noct?

Aylin Noctua had experienced surprise many times in her life. Like most people with siblings, she was accustomed to dumb pranks and ridiculous shenanigans. She was also familiar with the decidedly less pleasant shockers, such as daemons interrupting hunts or a group of MTs that decided she was a threat to be disposed of.

Yes, Aylin Noctua could safely say she was accustomed to the unexpected.

But when she had climbed into the military watchtower, intending to check out the arsenal of weapons the Niffs were working with, she wasn’t expecting company.

Especially not company that had drifted to sleep behind some old storage crates.

“Shit–!!” Aylin’s dual blades were out and at the ready in a heartbeat and the only thing that prevented her from chucking one into the body of whoever the hell was hiding up here was the name that came from his mouth.

“N-Noct?!”

She froze. Aylin blinked, dumbfounded at the blond in front of her. ‘Is that like, a nickname for me?’

“Aw man, not again…” The man had his hands up in what appeared to be surrender, his eyes screwed shut with fear. “Dude, I was able to survive the train but with all the daemons and the Empire right there…”

‘What in the hell was this guy talking about?’

He was still rambling, barely coherent as he cringed away from her. “Please don’t do this to me, okay? Buddy, c’mon…”

“Uhh… Sorry?” Aylin kept her weapons in a defensive position–maybe this guy was just pretending to be a lunatic to throw her off-guard.

“H-huh?” The young man’s eyes flew open at the sound of her voice. His eyes skimmed over her–lingering on her hair, which was sticking up in a very Noctis-esque kind of way–and his anxiety quickly melted into bewilderment. “Y-you’re not Noct.”

“I… I’m Noc-tua,” Aylin emphasized the last half of her family name, still tense. “Do I know you?”

“Oh.” The young man relaxed, heaving a sigh. He scratched the back of his head, an oddly endearing gesture for someone in such a suspicious place. “No, I guess not. Sorry, I confused you with N… Uh, with someone else.” He finished lamely.

Aylin still hadn’t moved, her confusion only growing as this young man brushed off his near-meltdown and gave her a concerned look.

“But, hey. A hunter like you shouldn’t be out here with the Empire so close. It’s gonna get real dangerous so I would head back over to Hammerhead or something.” His urges seemed earnest enough, and his eyes held only worry.

“You’re… You’re not a Niff?” Aylin asked, still in disbelief. It wasn’t surprising that he had recognized her hunter’s outfit–all of the women in Meldacio wore similar uniforms, save some accessories–but did he have to look so damn flippant in the face of her dual blades? She redoubled her grip on the weapons. “You’re not going to stop me?”

“Me?” The blond looked a little bothered by the question and his reply had a shocking amount of conviction, almost as if he were willing it to be true. “No, I’m not one of them. I’m a Lucian, through and through.”

“Then what are you doing here?” She pressed.

“Oh, right.” He was scratching the back of his head again. “I’m Prompto. I’m here to bust-a… Ah, destroy this base.”

His answer was so straightforward that Aylin blanched in the face of his blunt honesty. However, as she remembered her conversation at the diner, she began piecing everything together.

“So you’re one of the three guys… You’re with the Crownsguard?”

“Uh huh,” Prompto gave a nod. “Well, actually, not formally part of it, but close enough.”

Aylin still held her reservations, but she lowered her weapons. “You…” She gave him a skeptical once-over. “You really don’t look like part of the Crownsguard.”

Prompto chuckled. “Ahah, I guess I don’t… Gladio and Ignis look the part waay more than I do. Like I said, I’m only like, honorary Crownsguard, so…”

The names Prompto rattled off set off a familiar spark in her mind. “Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Stupeo Scientia.” She recited, half to herself. “So you’re… Prompto Argentum?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“…Huh.” Aylin remarked. So he really was a good guy? The relief that flooded through her brought a smile to her face. “That Marshall… Cor Leonis mentioned your names at Meldacio.”

“Aah,” Prompto rolled his shoulders, stretching and shaking off the nap he had taken. It appeared that the two had moved past their initial distrust of each other, so the blonde’s demeanor lightened significantly. After all, someone trusted by Cor had to be good, right? “So, you said your name was Noct… Err, Nocta?”

“Noctua,” The hunter corrected. “My first name’s Aylin.”

“Right, sorry about that. But uh, like I said… Things are gonna get ugly at the base, it’s not safe for you here.”

She raised her eyebrows, glancing around. “So, you and the other two from the Crownsguard are going to launch an attack here?”

“Nope, just me. The other two are at Fort Vaullerey.”

Aylin paused, her expression doubtful again. “Just… you?”

Prompto nodded, chuckling shyly in response.

Aylin’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Then,” She shuffled her feet. “This is a little weird, but… do you want some help?”

“Wait, seriously!?” In turn, Prompto’s blue eyes widened. “Aren’t you a just a hunter or something?”

“Yeah, but I know some tech stuff and I was planning on trying to take down the garrison anyways so…” She lingered on the last syllable. “Why not team up since we have the same goal?”

The gunner felt his heart lift, but he kept his voice even, careful not to betray too much excitement. “Are… Are you sure about this? It’s gonna be real dangerous.”

The determination in Aylin’s eyes reminded him of the look in Noct’s eyes whenever he was set on an idea. There was no talking her out of it. “I’m sure. I want to fight back against Niflheim in any way I can.”

“Well, I guess I can’t say no to that.” Prompto gave a mock sigh of defeat. He was worried about the young woman’s safety, but there was no denying the relief he felt at having someone watching his back. “Okay, then. Welcome to Team Prompto!”

Aylin let out a soft laugh and the gunner found himself smiling. “Thanks, I’m glad I could lend a hand.” She settled down next to him as he pulled out his blueprint.

“All right, so what do we have to work with…?”

[shuuenka-writes]

Who would’ve thought? [1/2] [Ren Kouen x Reader]

Paring: Ren Kouen x Reader / slight!one-sided! Alibaba x Reader

Summary: Your wanted to build your life on your own. Who knew that your search would lead you to the First Prince of Kou Empire?

Wordcount: 1791

partr 2 | masterlist Your life has been constant cycle of fortune and misfortune. One day you woke up in the alley.  You had nothing with you but a torn dress and a silver headpiece. Pair of merchants found you straying on the streets. They raised you, and for five years they have been your only family. Unfortunately the thieves attacked their caravan and stole most of the goods. They settled on a farm and stayed there.

You were quite restless soul back then. You decided to start your own business. After lots of struggles, your company (consisting of you and… you) was selling bracelets and ornaments. But lady luck turned her back at you and you lost your fortune again because of the thieves. You’d became beggar if not for Alibaba.  He, even being younger by two years, was doing good job as a cart driver. (“Whoa! You did finalized this contract, _____! That guy was an ass.” “Fufu~. Of course, one  must know how to talk to different kinds of people.”)    It was a beginning of your friendship. And then… perhaps something more. You were quite conflicted between being big sister or lover. Well, age gap wasn’t too big anyway. But that love for former prince didn’t make you happy at all. In fact it was slowly destroying your sense of independence. You’ve only noticed this when Aladdin showed up. You were lost. Stay in Sindaria opened your eyes. You and Alibaba were different, too different in some matters. He didn’t agree with your  outlook. The  compromise was impossible.    For king Sinbad you were still a child, a little lost girl, useless girl. You weren’t strong Fanalis like Morgiana, or unexpected fourth magi like Aladdin, nor Dangeon Conqeror like  Alibaba. You iternally refused to sit and do nothing. Even when Sinbad found tutor for everyone except you, since your ‘only’ talent was to run a business, you found one of your own. The lancer prince became your teacher for a while (not exactly willingly, but what is blackmail for?) and taught you basics of wielding lance and staff.   Soon  you were sure that your feelings for Alibaba weren’t reporciated. He decided to go to Reim Empire and you stated that you won’t follow him. Your own journey began. You certainly didn’t expect a Dangeon on a way. You couldn’t complain, though. Gaining a djinn took you three months - to be precise only five days. Innana, had a great library and you couldn’t help but try to read as much as you could.  Besides Lady Djinn was warrior – you begged her for training. In the outside world only two days passed.   And then, you met him.   It wasn’t exactly the most impressive first meeting. You - laying on the muddy road, because Innana had that kind of sense of humor; and him - covered in blood from the battle, tired and sleepy. After years you laugh loudly at this memory. Your first meeting of Kou Empire first prince, Ren Kouen. Of course, he noticed lack of Dangeon, that roughly three days ago stood in all its glory. You’ve became his guest.  (“Where your loyalty lays?” . . . “To myself.”)     You learned this thanks to Alibaba. The boy for  years was a coward and constanlty run away from his troubles. It annoyed you to no end, and you realized that you wanted be yourself. To be a lady of her own fate, offering loyalty to those who offered it back. Suprisingly, that person became Kouen. He let you train on your own, even let you go on a training camp. You were sure he just wanted to have some kind of use of you in the future. You’d be an idiot if you believed that it was kindness of his heart. But you were content, since you could explore library in the palace. Moreover, you could strengthen yourself with help of the greatest tutors of Empire.   Coexistence perhaps?   You stayed at the palace. You became big sis for Kouha and friend of Kougyoku, whom you met back in Sindaria. You often scolded Koumei for staying up for too late. Of course after you were familiar with each other enough. In the end you cursed youself for falling for Kouen. You shared with late night talks on various topics. Now you knew that battles excited him or that he thought his goatee is fashionable. You didn’t dare to laugh openly, he was deadly serious. It didn’t take you long to realize your feelings. And right from the beginning you knew you were going to end up with broken heart. Your precious heart was still in pieces from Alibaba’s rejection. (“Hey, Alibaba, what do you think about me?” “Huh? What do you mean, ______? Your my best friend, my buddy! Or like sister!”  “Oh… I see. I… I’m happy to be your friend…too. I have to go. I must do some chores for Sinbad” “Hey. Hey! Where are you going? _____?”) There wasn’t anyone who could’ve put it together. It wasn’t fully healed, no - even three month stay in Innana’s Dangeon helped only a little. So why, why were you making the same mistake? Why did you fell in love with Ren Kouen? Why? Because he gave you freedom. You could be a lady in glamorous clothes and a warrior at the same time. Because he understood your willingness to learn new things.   Because he shared with you thirst for knowledge. Because he trusted you. You’ve proven that you can keep secrets and even assaulted you won’t spill. Because he started to treat you like an equal. Like a person who understands his ideas.   Because you two even while being so different could enjoy each other’s company and work together.   (“To be honest I hate Balbadd.”   “I thought you’d be first to stand in its defense, given acquaintance with its prince.” “Alibaba? Don’t make me laugh, Kouen. He’s most cowardly and indecisive person I know. Back on the topic, how can I defend it? This place reeks of injustice and lacks organization. Poor people always will be poor, since they can’t cross the line. Rich people always will be rich since there is no one who could oppose. I don’t believe in such governing.”    “You’re intelligent woman, but situation in Balbadd needs some time to work out.”   “Well, Rome was not built in a day.” ) And then came moments of bliss, where he wasn’t first prince and you merely his guest. It started with a simple kiss in the alcove. Then another in his study, and another one, and another one. Both of you knew that this relationship is doomed. Yet, those months were constant cycle of hurting and healing each other. All behind the closed doors. (“I won’t be your concubine!” “…I don’t want you to.“ "Huh?”)   You’ve became unofficial part of his household. You won’t ever forget those battles you took part in. And victorious shouts of Empire’s soldiers. And parties with merry band of Kouen household. (“Here, your drink.” “Hey, smiley woman, bring me more of this fish! Kin Gaku wants to eat!” “Bringing you ale was an act of my kindness. I’m not your servant girl.” “…Bwahaghaa! Good! I was only checkin’ ya of what kind of woman you are. Good!”) You were in awe seeing Kouen’s power shown in Magnostad. He fought with his whole power to defeat Black Djiin. It left you in astonishment. You stood beside Koumei, Aladdin and Alibaba. Kouen was pissed, you could tell. You’ve felt his rage when he shouted to Alibaba and called him ‘brat’. In the end you decided that you won’t stay behind and with the rest of Ren siblings attacked the doll. Though the battle tired you out, since you hardly ever used Extreme Magic you felt strangely good. Later Kouen almost kidnapped Aladdin, who promised him sharing knowledge. You were in the middle of internal laugh at his expression and being terrified by it. In the end you fainted when the battle this was over. (“Idiot woman. Constantly overworking herself to prove being strong.” “You said something?” “Nothing, Koumei.”) You and Kouen weren’t perfect match. No, sometimes you were like a fire and ice, sometimes like well-oiled machine. You being bundle of unused energy and him being stoic and reserved. You – smiley and optimistic, him – calm and realistic. You – childish from time to time, him – blunt in private. But despite all these differences  your relationship worked. You two were like a two pieces of puzzle, seemingly not matching. Yet , after  a little bit of crafting, time and patience somehow fitted.   (“What are you doing?” “Arranging your books, of course. Look at the mess in your study!” “I can find my way around it.” “But I can’t. See, now it’s in alphabetical order and divided by subject… Why are you smirking like this?” “It’s nothing, ______.”) What you enjoyed the most were palace gardens. With so many different kinds of flowers, beautifully arranged, you felt as if you were in paradise. Whether it was sunny or illuminated with moonbeams, it brought peace to your soul and calmed your thoughts. You came here as often as you could, to admire or help with flowers. This serene scenery brought midnight talks, reflections and musing. (“Hey, is it wrong? This, what we’re doing?” “Stop worrying about this now.”)   Perhaps it was your sweet voice and delightful laugh that made him look forward to the next meeting. Perhaps it was glint in your eyes when you were focused on something that made him wanting to look only at you. Perhaps it was your decisiveness and pursuit your goals that made him more than willing to assist you. Perhaps it was your delicate touch that made him wanting you more. Perhaps it was your intelligence that made him craving for intellectual discussions with you. Perhaps it was your witty comebacks in private and lady-like behavior in public that made him appreciate you more and more. He fell for you hard, even more that he was willing to admit. He always reminded himself that love was one the things he should not think about. He was a prince, most for what he could count for was that his wife would not be spoiled and bratty princess. Loving somebody else would only leave him hurt. And it did. With you beside warmth he felt unwelcomed pain. Pain, because he should not love you. He should stop, but he couldn’t, for it was an impossible love.

[anjibooks]

Now I Rise by Kiersten White (Book Review)

Bloody, full of actions, lies and deceit, Now I Rise is everything I expected it to be. The second book in Kiersten White's brutal Conquerer's Saga brings the world of Vlad the Impaler to life... That is, if Vlad the Impaler had been born female. An interesting twist on history, the Conquerer's Saga is quite the enthralling series, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in historical fiction, or anyone who just wants a good novel with a lot of action and engrossing storyline and characters. This book is perfect for fans of things like Game of Thrones, the story is dark, (and as stated before) bloody, and full of complex, cunning and fierce characters. The reader is sure to be hooked. Now I Rise is book 2 in the Conquerer's Saga, the first book is called And I Darken, if any of this series sounds interesting at all to you, I would recommend you pick up the first book. If you want any more information on it, I did do a book review back in January, so go check that out. Anyway, on to Now I Rise. God, I love the titles of this series. And I Darken. Now I Rise. They're just so epic sounding, perfect for the books they describe. Now I Rise was quite the fun read. I really enjoyed being reunited with the characters, though the strains on the different relationships ceaselessly irked me. I just want Radu and Lada to be reunited and go rule Wallachia together. Just leave Mehmed behind. I feel basically the same about the characters after finishing this book as I did after finishing the first book. Lada, I love her as a protagonist because of her drive. If she wants something, she will do anything to take it. And she does. She's strong, and always ready for a fight. Yet, she has her flaws. She is not a people person. And when I say that I mean REALLY not a people person. Like I am not a people person, but in comparison to Lada? I am the peopleiest people person in the world. She's really not good at handling interactions. I couldn't help but be a little annoyed at that, like all Lada really knows is violence. The only way she wants to handle things is through force, and to be a good leader you have to have a balance of force and compromise/being good working with others. Lada is not good at working with others, and she won't heed others' advice about it. (*cough* Nicolae.) Then there's Radu. Love him, he's a great character. But his biggest flaw is Mehmed. And his love for Mehmed. He'll do anything and everything for the sultan, even going as far as choosing Mehmed over his own sister. Radu's love of Mehmed blinds him to Mehmed's oh so obvious flaws. And that was a CONSTANT source of aggravation for me. Like no, go join your sister and be happy. Screw Mehmed. At the beginning I just could not stand Radu and his constant pining over Mehmed, but as the story continued on I found myself really enjoying Radu's arc. And I'm really looking forward to the direction his character is taking. Then the last "main" character of the series. Mehmed. Does he even count as a main character in this book? Maybe a supporting one. He isn't in the story nearly as much as he was in the first book (yay), but he's mentioned a crap ton, because, of course, he's a vital player in the events of the plot. Also unsurprising, most of the time he's mentioned in every paragraph of Radu's. Ugh. I just don't like Mehmed at all now. I didn't like him much after finishing the first book, but reading this one? No. Not a fan. The plot was interesting-- I found myself feeling quite invested in the fates of the side characters and the outcome of the big fights and wars. While it told a fun story, I felt the plot was a little rushed. Not in the way of how many trilogy ends with just shoving too much information in your face, this plot was rushed in the way of cutting scenes too short. Like I just felt that we, the readers, needed to be able to delve deeper into the scenes, situations and  characters. Just everything felt short and crisp. The scenes were the bare minimal, getting the information you needed to know and then going ahead to the next scene. While it did get its purpose done, I just was left feeling a little detached from that. Like, I put the book down multiple times and didn't exactly feel the need to pick it back up. Saying that, the story still is enthralling and hard to put down (as proven by how late I stayed up last night), but once you put it down, it just eh. You don't yearn to read it again. Or I should say I didn't yearn to read it again once I put it down. All in all, I would give Now I Rise 7/10 stars. It was a very enjoyable read, and I do look forward to reading the next book, but I couldn't help but feel a bit detached from the series just because of how it was written and how almost choppy the book felt because of all the short, information filled scenes. Anyway, here's the synopsis: Lada Dracul has no allies. No throne. All she has is what she’s always had: herself. After failing to secure the Wallachian throne, Lada is out to punish anyone who dares to cross her blood-strewn path. Filled with a white-hot rage, she storms the countryside with her men, accompanied by her childhood friend Bogdan, terrorizing the land. But brute force isn’t getting Lada what she wants. And thinking of Mehmed brings little comfort to her thorny heart. There’s no time to wonder whether he still thinks about her, even loves her. She left him before he could leave her. What Lada needs is her younger brother Radu’s subtlety and skill. But Mehmed has sent him to Constantinople—and it’s no diplomatic mission. Mehmed wants control of the city, and Radu has earned an unwanted place as a double-crossing spy behind enemy lines. Radu longs for his sister’s fierce confidence—but for the first time in his life, he rejects her unexpected plea for help. Torn between loyalties to faith, to the Ottomans, and to Mehmed, he knows he owes Lada nothing. If she dies, he could never forgive himself—but if he fails in Constantinople, will Mehmed ever forgive him? As nations fall around them, the Dracul siblings must decide: what will they sacrifice to fulfill their destinies? Empires will topple, thrones will be won . . . and souls will be lost. SPOILERS BELOW (BOOK DISCUSSION) Alright, I've already been very clear on my stance on Mehmed. So it will be no surprise that I was really rooting for the people of Constantinople to win the fight. Especially after meeting the people of Constantinople. I loved seeing how torn Radu felt-- because yes, these were good people. And then I really didn't appreciate how Radu still chose Mehmed in the end, despite his realizations about Mehmed during his time away. Just UGH. I'm really hoping Radu will be able to break away from Mehmed's grasp on him, and of course, I want him to go and join Lada. Literally for the majority of the book it was SHOWN how much these two siblings need each other. They fill out the gaps for each other. They were always thinking What would Lada do? Or What would Radu do? And when Radu thought Lada never thinks what he would do I almost screamed. HOW DOES RADU NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH HIS SISTER NEEDS hIM? AND HOW MUCH HE NEEDS HER? SCREW MEHMED. Then there's my issue with Lada. She really needs to fucking learn to like get along with people. Instead of just immediately going stabby stabby. Like I get that it's suppose to be all female empowerment with her, but seriously, if she hadn't killed all those boyars and Tomas, she could've had a lot more power. Sure, they wanted to use her, but that's why she needs Radu, so she can use them. And she needs to be merciful, like I see the practicality of killing all of the Danesti children, but Nicolae, my bae, is right when he tells her she shouldn't. Besides, THERE'S AN OBVIOUS STRAIN ON NICOLAE's RELATIONSHIP WITH LADA AND I FEAR THAT's LEADING UP TO HIM LEAVIN HER AND NOOOO. Nicolae was hardly in this book, like he was there, but he wasn't really vital to all the plot things so he only really got a few lines. I need more Nicolae! Anyway, thanks for reading. Love you all. ​-Anj