#halo: battle born

[bloodgulchblog]

Oh fuck I forgot to check for the reprint edition of Meridian Divide to see what's in the adjunct

GUESS WHAT IT'S ABOUT SLOAN

HEY HALO IS THIS A HINT

HEY HALO

[aqg-arts]

Words themselves do not describe how upset I am that there aren't a lot of Spartan Owen B096 appreciation posts.

You're gonna leave it up to me, 343, to ensure our boy isn't forgotten? Me? Me, the one who has made a cult for a minor Spartan IV (#GriffinisGod #retcongriffin)? You ask too little of me, fools!

Well, guess what?

When I'm done doing all of my 420 WIPs, ima startinish my one for Owen.

SMT, 343

[bloodgulchblog]

YOU SEE

YOU UNDERSTAND

YOU ARE SO CORRECT AND NOW YOU KNOW HOW I SUFFER

I extend the good faith in YA Halo and I think it knows exactly how dark it is, and I think Halo has always had a huge appeal to teenagers because the foundational early lore ended up being so focused on teenagers in extremely fucked up child soldier situations.

I loved those kids and it's a tossup to whether I loved Saskia or Dorian more.

There's part of me that really does want to see like... something with Local Team as adult Spartan-IVs precisely because it's so fucked up and I would find it really interesting seeing how those characters would reckon with what happened to them. (Also you know, Halo is full of Spartan-IVs going rogue apparently, so-)

Hghghghghgghggh.

YA Halo is fun if you give it a chance I'M ALWAYS SAYING-

I just finished the Halo YA series. @bloodgulchblog already warned that the ending is bad (in an ethically dubious way, not in quality--the series is good as far as Halo novels go) but it was even more unsettling than I thought. Some snippets that stood out to me:

Dorian is one of the kids who joins up with the UNSC. A bunch of his friends died during the initial attack on their town. Here, he finds out that the attack on the planet started six months prior and the UNSC didn't sound the alarm to "prevent panic". This triggers his distrust for towards UNSC, ONI, and Owen because he believes his friends could have survived if they had been warned.

Dorian's distrust also spreads to Evie, who starts to question ONI's motives. One of the details that I feel like we weren't supposed to read into is that ONI promised the kids a scholarship to college if they agreed to join the militia, which, considering how the books ends is just.......so disturbing.

"They're clearly okay with lying when it suits them." "Evie stop."

LET HER SPEAK!!!

(As an aside, I did like that one of Saskia's primary motives is she's trying to get on the UNSC's good side because her parents sold illegal arms and she doesn't want to be held accountable.)

And then of course, the most horrifying detail:

Victor has completely bought into the UNSC and is the most excited to have joined up. He gets injured and the kids are brought into a room and told that he's not recovering because of an ONI artifact they were all exposed to.

After """"""""getting his parent's permission"""""" they begin the still-experimental Spartan-IV augmentations on him and tell the kids that they will also die if they don't undergo the process. It is a doozy.

"You really think we're boogeymen, don't you?" Yes. Yes, I do.

Dorian is one of those characters that gets written off by the others as being paranoid while saying the exactly correct thing the entire time.

"I was a child solider like my father before me and it was no big deal, god."

I feel like Dorian is supposed to be a stand-in for the reader because my immediate first thought when I read that Victor was sick is that ONI not only didn't get his parent's permission, but that they made up the disease whole-cloth. Like, with the context of everything ONI has ever done, this is elementary.

I truly can't tell if the intent was for this to be as sinister as it comes off? Because by the end they all "agree" to undergo the augmentations together because found family, greater good, ect ect and I'm left alone in the room like um......they're in high school??

Ultimately, I am interested to see how four teenagers with wildly different motives would make out as Spartans, but I would be pretty sad to see Dorian as a Spartan because it means they beat the healthy (and very accurate!!!!) suspicion out of him. But Dorian the insurrectionist? Yes please.

[darqx]

THE LOVERS

| Love | Harmony | Relationships | Choices |

One representing the divine, the other emotional/physical desires, they turn fondly towards each other - choosing to unify dual forces. They have come to understand each other, to rely on each other, and eventually to make something better between them than what they came from. Around them are scattered twelve flowers, symbolising purity, passion, time and space.

[monitorchakas]

No matter what planet galaxy, world you are from "people do love cat videos"

[eschatonjudge]

it's rlly funny to me how jun agreed to work on the s-IV program because he hated the idea of child soldiers when some of the first IVs were highschool students

[trappolia]

── IT'S BEEN A LONG, LONG NIGHT

silver vanrouge. when silver wakes up from a dream, you are the first thing he searches for.

Silver finds you in the aftermath.

Amidst the wreckage of it all, even in this world that possesses so much grandeur of magic, you are a vision that he has only ever seen in his most darling dreams; bloody and exhausted, the tips of your fingers stained black with blot─ the same colour as Malleus's hair, the same colour that the beloved Draconic Prince bleeds now as Divus fusses over him. But his brother is a Fae of the greatest breeding, a dragon's son born from acrid flame and green lightning; his skin would stitch itself back together, and he would be whole again.

Silver cannot yet say the same for himself.

He is exhausted. The sweet arms of Morpheus beckon to him, the home of his magic calling him back to that dreaded sleep. Or perhaps it is just the strain of it all, the force of his Unique Magic being stretched over so many dreams in so many hours. His boots scuff over the gravel and debris as he drags himself towards you, step by step.

"Silver?" Somewhere through the fog that clouds his eyes and the ringin in his ears, he registers the uncharacteristic softness of Sebek's voice. Silver lifts his foot to take another step, but finds the weight of his own muscle too much, and he stumbles. Sebek startles, and Silver feels him grasp his arm. "Silver! Don't─"

"I─I'm fine," Silver croaks, his voice hoarse. His eyes blur, but still you cut a figure at the center of it all, haloed by the light of the rising sun and the darkness of his brother's blood. His Sleeping Beauty, your head raising as you hear the commotion. There are more people clamouring to aid Silver, but there is only you in the reflection of his irises; your expression as your brows furrow, eyes widening as you stumble to your feet.

"Silver?" you call his name, oh-so-soft despite the distance that stands between the two of you. Silver is reminded again of that vision you in his dreams, welcoming him home in that soft voice and sweet smile. He takes another step, his body protesting.

You're a dream.

"What are you...?" Lilia croaks as he sees the beaten human passing, but his son only rests his palm over his shoulder, squeezing the small frame of his father. Silver stumbles forward as if he held the burden of a hundred heavy stones. A beat passes, and Lilia realises what he wants.

He does not stop him from reaching for it.

You had stood by now, your own exhaustion forgotten as you realise where Silver is headed. He must be a sight for sore eyes, battle-beaten and exhausted beyond all measure. And still, he has to get to you─

You're still there.

Silver recognises that you are nothing like the visage in his dreams. You had been sweeter then, softened around the edges and holding none of that bitterness you cradled to yourself in your time in Night Raven College. No overblots, no slacking headmasters─ just that little cottage and the garden in your backyard, your lover's boots tracking mud and soil over the carpet. And still he wanted─ he longed.

After that long, endless night, all he wanted was you again.

"Silver!" you gasp as you reach him, and Silver allows himself to hold you. His arms, bruised and weak as they are, wrap around your waist, holding onto you with the strength that he had lacked just earlier. "Oh, Great Seven, are you─"

"You're here," he exhales breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours. His arms shift, the scratched surface of his palms pressing to your cheeks, and he hears your breath hitch.

( He had held you like this, once upon a dream. It is only now that Silver realised how much more tender it felt in reality. )

"…Silver?"

"You're here," he whispers again, almost as if he can say nothing else. A weak laugh bubbles at his throat. "I found you."

For that single moment suspended in time, you say nothing. But then Silver feels your arms wind around his torso, reciprocating his embrace.

"You found me," you murmur, squeezing him lightly. Silver wonders, as your nails dig into his back through the fabric and leather of his uniform, if you are subconsciously trying to assure yourself that he is not a dream.

"Did you have a bad dream?" you ask him.

It takes a moment for Silver to realise you are attempting something of a joke, perhaps to ease the tension and the horror of what had just transpired and ended moments before. Another laugh bubbles at his throat, one of disbelief and such tender fondness.

"No," Silver admits honestly, pulling away. His hands cup your cheeks still, ever so gentle. "No, I didn't."

You laugh then, equal parts fond and puzzled. Silver leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours; his nose nudges against yours, his breath warm and airy and real. You shudder, clutching onto him tighter.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask with another breathless laugh, even though you are now the one clutching to him like a lifeline.

Silver lets out a slow, shuddering breath, brushing the traces of blood that still bled from a cut at your cheekbone. This close, he can count the little marks upon your skin and pinpoint the exact colour of your irises. He imagine you again in his dreamscape, domestic and sweet and oh so lovely.

"You're a dream," he says softly.

You stare at him like a deer caught in the headlight, doe eyes unblinking. Someone, perhaps his father or Sebek, chokes on their spit somewhere close by. Silver does not notice. A moment passes, then another, and then your eyes crinkle into these lovely crescent moons, and you begin to laugh.

"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up into that soft smile that Silver oh so longs to kiss. "What's the occasion?"

He is suddenly struck with a sense of deja vu, like he had heard your words before. His heart stutters, and suddenly, he finds himself speaking, the words not properly registering in his mind before they come tumbling out of his mouth.

"I'm no prince," Silver confesses. The sun had begun its ascent in the horizon, casting a new dawn upon this land of dreams come true, but all he can see was you in the daylight, the sunbeams illuminating your lovely expression of shock. He goes on before he can stop himself. "Perhaps I could have been, once. Not anymore. I am the brother of an heir, the son of a general─ but I have neither title nor fortune to offer you."

"Silver," you say softly, breathless. Your eyes are soft, almost pitying as he seems to put himself down.

"The man who loved the woman who bore me was no different. All we have is the iron of our blade and the promise of a knight's devotion. And yet─" Silver swallows. "And yet─ And yet, I long for more with you. More than the sworn oath from a knight to his monarch─"

Sebek makes a noise of protest, only to be cut off by the swift jab of Lilia's elbow against his ribs.

"─more than a promise of a friend to be by your side."

You laugh weakly, almost unsure as you glanced around. "Silver, are we doing this here─?"

"I dreamt I was back home again," Silver goes on, cutting you off─ not too unkindly, he hopes. He understands that it is most improper to cut someone off as they are speaking, but he needs to speak first, he needed you to know all the things he did not dare to confess to you before─ "Lili─ My father, he─ he has a lovely cottage in the forest, far in the outskirts of Briar Valley. There's a garden out in the back where we grow our fruit and vegetables, and the trees in the forest bear fruit sweeter than anything you've tastes and I─ I─"

He falters then at the look in your eyes, the soft and knowing curve of your lips as he stumbles over his words. Silver looks down at the scuffed toes of his boots, swallowing once more before he speaks again.

"I─ I love─ I love you," he breathed out shakily, almost pleading for you to acknowledge the truth. You had kissed and he had held you in his arms before, but such an admission... Silver feels as though he is teetering at the edge of a cliff. "I have nothing to offer you except an oath that I will hold these affections for you dearly till the end of time and that cottage where I learned how to love and hate and live all the same─"

"Silver─"

"But just a word from you, and I will be silent forever─"

"Silver!" you raise your voice to be heard over his rambling. It is so uncharacteristic, almost odd to see this boy that had only shown his affection to you through lovely and subtle gestures and whispers rather than the bold declaration of those three certain words, awoken from his cursed sleep as a rambling, flustered mess.

Silver raises his head, helpless as you laugh sweetly at him, and he loathes to think of a world where he had never woken up and heard the true melody with his own ears again. He wants to fulfill his oath, to give you all the love he possesses in this wretched body of his, and then some.

Your fingers come to card through the matted strands of his hair, moonshine under all the dust and dirt. When your hand comes to cup his face again, tilting his head to meet your gaze, your eyes are just as lovely as he remembers in his dream.

"I love you too."

And Silver's heart sings to have its song reciprocated once again, to be loved by you as he was once upon a dream. You laugh again at the expression on his face, that sweet melody that he wants to hear for the rest of his life. He has no ring to give you now, but Lilia hollers something at him, and Silver's mind is so dazed by the smile on your face that he does not realise it until you take his face in your palms and kiss him hard.

"Come home with me?" he whispers hoarsely when you pull away, and his mouth still seeks to touch your cheek, your nose, the space between your brows. Silver loathes to part from you again. Perhaps he never will.

"Yes," you giggle, lips meeting his once again. "A thousand times, yes."

© trappolia 2024

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

[bloodgulchblog]

I am that asshole that will apparently rebuy something I already have for 5 extra pages and the dim hope that they might conclude the trilogy.

Scholastic edition was cooler though, they had foil covers.

[harveybwabbit92]

Speedy ultra facts (Revised, with a few more facts):

4 out of the original 6 ultra brothers are actually related to each other.

Taro and Ace are brothers, Seven is their cousin.

Jack is married to one of Mother of Ultra's sisters making him Seven, Taro and Ace's uncle.

Seven has a sister and brother.

Seven was raised by his sister after his mother died.

Seven, Jack and Taro have children.

Seven is Zero's father.

Taro is Taiga's father

And Jack has an unnamed son.

(And I guess Ace counts too? since he's Ultraman Z's godfather.)

Taro and Ace are the sons of Father and Mother of Ultra.

Ace is adopted.

Mother and Father's real names are Ken and Marie.

Ultraman is a university professor.

Leo and Astra are twins and princes.

Zoffy is apparently the grandson of ultraman King.

Zoffy smokes (in the manga he does anyways)

An Ultra-baby appears in it's capsule for a few seconds at the end of Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy Legends in the crowd of ultras who have been unfrozen.

The baby parents are a red(or silver) father and a blue mother.

Jack is one of the few original ultra brother's who stays in regular contact with his human host.

Ultraman Mebius's favorite food is curry.

Zero has a childhood friend named Voice who is a musician.

Ultra's mouths can open and close considering they also need to eat and drink.

Father of Ultra is terrified of angering his wife.

Taro and Ace used to have a pet dog.

Apparently there are cats and dogs in the Land of Light, though they look very different from their Earth counterparts. (Cos Aliens)[though in the comics the pup looks like a normal dog, but in the show it looks like white puffball wit' spider legs.]

Mother of Ultra has at least two sisters, one of whom married jack and the other is Seven's mother.

80 is adopted (at least in the manga adaption he is.)

80's adoptive father's name is Ultraman Red and he's Father's best friend.

Color timers were surgically grafted onto an ultra's chest in early childhood. (Taro has his as a young child in Ultraman Story and Ultraman boy has one...but then there's Geed whose timer really was grafted onto him after birth...Ah, I'm not going down this rabbit hole.)

{(Okay, I went and reviewed the wiki and some other sources on this the Color timer thing has been sort of retconned, They changed the age for Color timers to teen or adult Ultras who have the choice if they want to have a color timer or not (there are lot civvy ultras who don't have a color timer), and that it's mainly for Ultras whose jobs require them to travel off planet or for Ultras who are active warriors in the IGDF. but for the earlier installments (like the original 60s lore) it was at birth.)}

The reason Ultraseven doesn't have a color timer is cos he wasn't meant to be a fighter. His original mission was to scout out and draw a map of the milky way galaxy.

The creator of Pokemon was inspired by Ultraseven, in fact the reason it's called Pokemon is because the name Capsule monsters was already copyrighted by Tsuburaya.

Most Ultras are born through gestation capsules.(However according some of the novels *they might be outdated and thus not considered canon anymore* There are a few that still make babies and give birth the ol'fashion way.)

Fuma, Gai and Jugglus are from the same planet O-50.

The inhabitants on O-50 Aren't born ultras their original forms, As much as it sucks are human-like in appearance, but they do have super abilities to sort of make up for it. The only true way to become an Ultra on O-50 is by being chosen by the Light ring or The voice of light to become one.

The Light Ring/Voice of light is this big blue halo that floats over the planet O-50 that sometimes gives people super powers... ([there's not a lot info on O-50 other then the few snippets from the R/B novel, Orb saga and Fuma's voice drama, so work with me here])

O-50's trial to become an Ultra requires one or more people who must climb to the very top of the planets highest and deadliest mountain: Crusader's peak. Now, they can do this completely on their own or be summoned personally by the Light ring. (According to Fuma a lot of people fail the trial because they either kill each other or die on the climb up.) Anyway when they reach the peak the Ring will pass judgement if they're worthy or not, if they're found worthy then it grants them the power they need to turn into an ultra....If not then, it'll electro yeet them off the mountain like it did with Jugglus.

Though not inhabitants of O-50 themselves, the original R/B/G siblings crashed landed there and got the power to transform into their ultra and Kaiju forms, from the Light ring while to fighting off a monster they'd accidentally woke up while fighting off a gang that had chased them off their home planet.

According to Fuma, Grigio is considered an idol on O-50.

Now on to U-40 Where the inhabitants are called Ultra-people who are all born human in appearance, they're just ultras but human size.

the ancient inhabitants of U-40 through unknown means created the Ultra mind. (It's a core of light that works similarly to the plasma spark.) which helped them achieve a higher state of spiritual evolution that transformed them into ultras.

Unlike their M-78 counter parts the U-40 ultras can't naturally grow into giants; except for this small group of eight warriors who have achieved the ability to grow giant, though much like the creation of the Ultra mind this isn't fully explained on how or why this can happened. (though in Titas's backstory it hints at that it might be connected to resolve and finding balance within one's self.).

Despite that the few inhabitants of U-40 that can turn giant prefer to stay small or in their human forms rather then their giant forms.

Unlike the land of light U-40 still has it's sun and thus has day and night cycles, though one of it's two moons was destroyed by the Heller Army (the bad guys of The⭐Ultraman anime.).

[.....Though, I think I heard somewhere that the Land o light Ultras use technology that's similar to switchable film windows or something to mimic a night-cycle (Well, indoors they do anyways.) but I could be misremembering.]

Titas is a dark giant.

Titas was born in the dark nebula to two soldiers in the Heller Army but his parents didn't want him to follow in their footsteps, so they sent him as an infant to U-40 where he could grow up safely and choose his own path.

Ultraman X possibly dated an alien space cat monster Mu who looks like a cross between a Beholder from DnD and a cat, she also had memory erasing farts.

X doesn't remember dating Mu...

Ultraman thought humans were too primitive to have develop the ability to fly, He was proven wrong moments later by getting hit in the face by a jet being flown by his host Shin Hayata.

Ultras aren't completely made of energy, they actually have skeletons and organs that are sort similar to a human's but also having a few extras that are very alien.

Ultras stop aging at around 10000 years and 1 ultra year is equivalent to 300 human years.

[eureka-its-zico]

A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad. 

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart. 

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary. 

Vital. 

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance. 

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over. 

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help. 

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty. 

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day. 

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer.  If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave. 

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops. 

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him. 

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it. 

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well. 

Halsey had found something. Really found something. 

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it. 

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way. 

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code. 

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her. 

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot. 

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated. 

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands. 

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you. 

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him. 

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up. 

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away. 

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away. 

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns. 

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal. 

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win. 

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets. 

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky. 

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point. 

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty. 

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or  place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood. 

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman. 

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat. 

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you. 

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment. 

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close. 

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this.  Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company. 

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance. 

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form. 

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel. 

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline. 

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head. 

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.” 

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited. 

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence. 

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives. 

You were supposed to be a lucky one. 

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world. 

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born. 

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly. 

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left. 

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony. 

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard. 

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills. 

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale. 

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak. 

“Thao, can you come play?” 

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over. 

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you. 

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.” 

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him. 

You didn’t waste any more  time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers. 

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’. 

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass. 

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew. 

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit. 

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation. 

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened. 

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter. 

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him. 

Could you have gone around? 

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared. 

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut. 

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather. 

“And where did you run off to this morning?” 

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned. 

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning. 

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named. 

Either that or joining the resistance. 

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him. 

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention. 

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent. 

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut. 

“Enough!” 

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name. 

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned. 

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins. 

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything. 

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls. 

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later. 

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle. 

This was a kill zone. 

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle. 

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed - 

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground. 

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay. 

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome. 

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward. 

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes. 

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan. 

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar! 

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence. 

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit. 

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.” 

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time. 

Except this time - no…NO! 

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of. 

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it. 

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him. 

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather. 

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste. 

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed. 

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward. 

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped. 

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie. 

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame. 

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see. 

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you. 

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue. 

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They  must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie. 

Except that wasn’t what happened. 

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him. 

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told. 

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back. 

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball. 

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt. 

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan. 

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon. 

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality. 

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you. 

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.” 

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest. 

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him. 

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain. 

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather. 

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect. 

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it. 

This Dr. Halsey. 

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low. 

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe. 

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage. 

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next. 

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.” 

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather,  and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back. 

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth. 

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 -  helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him,  had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious. 

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside  your grandfather's gut. 

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life. 

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact. 

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor. 

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back. 

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while. 

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking. 

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in. 

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt? 

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it. 

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you. 

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked. 

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils. 

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat. 

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question. 

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it. 

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit. 

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t. 

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for. 

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back. 

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step. 

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab  from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect. 

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy. 

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed. 

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda. 

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head. 

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take. 

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing. 

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind. 

You didn’t understand until you did. 

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child. 

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful. 

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.” 

Gone. 

Gone. 

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage. 

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed. 

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke. 

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

[bones4thecats]

This is just another request but can I please ask for Loki Thor and Poseidon with kianna komori

But in this scenario she ends up dying but ends up being resurrected as an angel but she still remembers them

Kianna: what made you think I would forget you?

Fun fact in an alternate scenario she ends up dying but father Demaryius( my other OC)

Ends up bringing her back to life as an angel

Their S/O Gets Reincarnated As An Angel

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Loki, Thor, and Poseidon Name: Their S/O Gets Reincarnated As An Angel Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: I read about an angel’s wing color, so to sum up the Reader’s different ones; Pink - Chamuel (Angel of peaceful relationships), Purple - Zadkiel (Angel of mercy), and Green - Raphael (Angel of healing)

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🐍 Loki hailed himself as a God who did not enjoy humans being around at all. Whether it be male, female, even a child, if they were human, Loki did not like being around them, for what reason? I have no clue

🐍 Probably just Odin rubbing off on him

🐍 But, when Thor came home one day with a duo of supposed humans, Loki gained interest in the shorter one, that shorter one being you!

🐍 He had begun to hang around you all of the time. From annoying you as you worked on stuff to just laying out small pranks on you whenever he wanted. He basically was hanging off of you like you were the bamboo to his koala

🐍 Once you both started your relationship, Loki had gained quite a bit more of an interest in you. So like, what your hobbies were, what your previous life on Earth was, etc.

🐍 Because of how much time the God of Mischief began to spend with you, he started to become very clingy and attached to you

🐍 So, it broke his heart into smithereens when it was announced that the traitor of the Greek Pantheon and the third-born of the four Olympian Brothers, Adamas, had attempted to ally the Goddess you were visiting; Aphrodite, in his endeavor

🐍 And, due to her attempting to pry more information of his reasoning for this battle out of him, he had thrown a spear in a random direction, and unfortunately, you were in that direction. Once the blade had pierced through your body, you had died, causing Aphrodite to attack Adamas herself in a fit of rage

🐍 Loki had an old scarf that you gave him on your first date in the winter, and he never let go of the long fabric ever since that fateful day

🐍 As he walked around the old garden that the Norse Pantheon had in their domain, he had gotten the message from Huginn and Mininn that there was an angel coming in for a meeting with Odin and the main Gods of the Pantheon, meaning Loki had to be there

🐍 Despite his sour mood, Loki gripped the green and purple fabric closely as he bee-lined for his uncle’s estate. And, once he met the room and walked inside, he had seen his cousin, Thor, patting the head of the supposed angel as Odin smiled, he was genuinely smiling!

🐍 Loki stood there as the angel turned around, their large pink wings flowing behind them as their tiny white halo glowed in the sunlight, and once their eyes met his, Loki dropped the scarf and ran towards them, wrapping his arms around their form, encasing them in a tear-jerking hug

" Holy shit… " " Hello Loki. "

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🌩️ Thor was beyond depressed, he didn’t even train for weeks after hearing the news of your passing

🌩️ You and him were very close. He had met you as he took a small stroll around the human realm, since he just needed some space from his cousin, Loki’s, antics

🌩️ He had been sitting beside a small pond in the middle of the woods as he heard a voice ask him if he was alright, making him turn around and nearly pull out his hammer to attack

🌩️ Once his eyes met yours, his heart skipped a beat; you had the most beautiful eyes, eyes that could, in his perspective, compare to those of the Deities of Beauty or Purity

🌩️ Thor began to travel down to the same pond to meet you, and eventually during your second month of knowing one another, he asked if he could court you, which led to dating, then marriage, and then you and him starting your real lives together

🌩️ Nothing was going to stop him from having a happy life with you, but, unfortunately, life had another idea for him

🌩️ The God of Thunder had heard the news from a distraught Loki, who had been a witness to your demise. He claimed that a minor God from the Pantheon had gotten angry with the fact that you, a human, was married to Thor, so, in the fit of rage, they had wrapped you in vines and squashed you to death as their poison flowed through your system, much to Loki’s horror who found your body just minutes later

🌩️ Thor had ordered for the guilty to be brought before him, and once they were, he hadn’t given them a fast death, he let them suffer at the hands of multiple Gods, Odin, Loki, Poseidon, Hades (whom the previous two you had grown close to), and him of course

🌩️ While many tried to woo him in the same way that you had, nobody had come close in his eyes at your place. You were his one and only spouse, nobody could ever come close to you

🌩️ Now, it was the marking of the day of your anniversary of your first meeting, and every year, Thor would go down to the forest to the pond that he had his fellow Deities keep in tip-top shape, and this year was pretty much the same

🌩️ But, seeing someone sit there, nonetheless an angel sitting there with their purple wings holding out and their bright halo holding above their head, its glow getting brighter as the God of Thunder neared you

🌩️ And, despite the stoicness staying strong on his face, his eyes lit up in joy

" It is lovely seeing you here again, Y/N. " " You as well, my dearest. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅���⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

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🔱 Much like Loki, Poseidon prided himself on his superiority against both humans and Deities alike

🔱 Poseidon loved to watch others tremble in fear at his mere presence, it showed how perfect he was compared to those ‘disfigured’ beings that laid underneath his feet dipped in scum

🔱 But, when his oldest brother Hades had brought a human soul to a meeting with the claim that they had a soul purpose of helping them out with their duties, he gained interest in you, that poor soul

🔱 Unlike Adamas and Zeus, he did not attempt to either seduce you to do things with him against marriage or threaten you into doing things for you, Poseidon just asked you and you did it. Due to these actions, you gained a mutual ‘respect’ for one another

🔱 This fake respect eventually developed into true respect, then a shared romantic interest before becoming a real connection of two souls wrapping around one another

🔱 Once he asked you to become his for the rest of your shared lives, he began to really show himself to you, no strings attached. Well, he did make sure you didn’t tell anyone how soft he was with you, but you get the point

🔱 Poseidon was shocked to watch Proteus run inside, slamming the doors open of his office where he and Hades sat down discussing matters. The first thing the two brothers noticed was the major amount of bloods on his hands, causing his heart to stop momentarily

🔱 Hades looked at his brother and nodded, which sent the God of the Seas running after the God of Rivers who was leading the way towards the edge of the sea’s boundary, at the land where the Greek’s led their lands to another Pantheon

🔱 The two brothers stopped once the bloody sight of one of your oldest friends, Apollo, holding you as blood covered his hands, sending waves of thoughts through your lover’s mind, the main one being; what in the name of Valhalla happened to you?

🔱 That sight was one that Poseidon never forgot, every time he saw blood, he would think of your form in Apollo’s arms on the ground

🔱 Ever since that day, Poseidon never left his castle unless it was necessary, preferring to spend his time looking at papers he needed done or look at old photographs you had wrapped up in a book. These photos had you, him, friends, family members, and allies during meetings and whatnot

🔱 A few years later, Zeus had requested Poseidon to attend a meeting with him and some of the other Gods, and, due to it being mandatory in Hades’ words, he had headed towards his younger brother’s home

🔱 Gripping his trident, Poseidon opened the doors and looked inside to find an angel sitting on his seat’s arm, much to his annoyance, since angels were ranked below the Gods

" Holy being, step aside. " " I’m surprised you're being so cold to someone you once cared for, Poseidon. "

🔱 His ocean-colored eyes widened once he saw the angel unwrap their green wings from their body, allowing their water-looking halo to drip down into small droplets of rain as Poseidon lightly sank

" Y/N? " " Hello, my love. "

[monitorchakas]

Please clap reblog the polls to spread the outreach numbers

[mahdraw]

Abel (in Hazbin Hotel, outside religion).

Even though he saw the evil in Adam's words and actions toward Eve, Abel was not able to retaliate like his older brother, Cain. But with his mother and brother by his side, it was still possible to be happy.

One day, determined to change things once and for all, Abel remembered Eve's stories about angels, who had formidable powers, and decided to get their attention with a gift. The best he had.

The first was the life of his best sheep in the flock. It was a pain he had to bear, for it was for the good of his family.

And he succeeded! Sera came down to Earth and recognized him as a good human. Adam also recognized him, but as the successor of his questionable ideals, he only needed to direct him. The poor boy allowed himself to be seduced by the attention of the angels and by his father's teachings of superiority, abandoning the objective that made him take the life of his sheep.

When questioned by Cain, Abel only praised the path he was following and that his brother should be like him. This resulted in a fight between the brothers who once loved each other so much. The younger would have won thanks to his father's teachings of brute strength, if it weren't for the older's cowardice in using a stone and (unintentionally) killing him.

Initially, it was a sudden pain, followed by darkness. However, soon after, Abel appeared in Heaven with wings and a halo, beginning the selection of sinners and winners. The young man saw that his efforts had worked and has been serving the angels ever since, burying the doubts of what would become of Cain in Hell.

In the first decades, the next winners were his brothers and sisters born after his death. And all of them, without exception, complained about their father.

When Adam and Eve ascended, they each got what they wanted, or nearly so.

Adam became powerful and influential among the angels. Eve served her punishment of mandatory submission, but asking for a divorce directly would have angered Sera and the others, so she made a deal with her husband where he could do whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted, as long as he don't touch her ever again and preferably sleep in a separate room. This was the beginning of Eve's trophy wife phase and Adam's dominance.

He always looked for a way to benefit from his children's talents, whether by asking for things, stealing things or turning Eve against them. The main victim was Abel himself, who was called to be the lieutenant of the army of exorcists.

The father blackmailed him with the term “favorite son” and said that everything was for the good of Heaven, which was being “threatened” by demons from Hell.

The son had no desire to fight, but he felt that his father was a hero of Heaven and that he deserved another chance, so he accepted, even though it meant moving away from his family.

During training, Abel had to relive all the trouble of having a narcissistic father and felt that he had lost his individuality, as he was made fun of for being so good and innocent.

Despite always receiving comforting letters from Eve, the young lieutenant wondered if he could go back, without feeling guilty about leaving the safety of Heaven and disappointing everyone. This question was answered with an act of disobedience.

He was not allowed to enter the planning room, as they said he was “not ready” to know the strategies, but he thought it was in that room that he would know what needed to be done for them.

Upon entering without anyone seeing, Abel found drawings, graphs, spreadsheets and other representations of how THEY would go straight to hell and KILL the demons. And it was all kinds of demons, even children. As well written, it was not a battle, it was an extermination.

It was a kick in the gut, complete chaos and the exact opposite of what Heaven is all about. The biggest proof that Adam only got worse, because he had said that it was the demons who would come and attack first. Everyone was trying to change Abel's mind, so that he would no longer care about other people's lives.

Sera appeared at that moment and could only try to comfort the traumatized boy, but even though she said it was necessary and that they were just sinners, Abel definitely wouldn't accept anything else.

Offering his title of "First Soul of Paradise" as a sacrifice, Abel was free, leaving the barracks to the sounds of his father's insults, who no longer recognized him as a favorite (he never did) and compared him to Cain, which revived the concern and began the forgiveness phase.

And so, Abel returned to being a shepherd, honoring only his mother (finally free ) and returning to being the kind angel who even worries about his own fallen brother, but carries the pain of no longer being able to make a difference.

[thunderberryz]

So wait a second...

In official Rune Factory 4 lore, Ventuswill was supposed to die many, many centuries ago. It's uncertain how many, but it's generally accepted that Leon likely became the first Guardian around 1000 years ago. The big thing is that, in theory, Ventuswill's natural lifespan could have been much longer with no need for Guardians or Rune Spheres, but she was born in a land where the runes were beginning to die out and was thus weak. The Earthmates creating the Rune Spheres was as much about restoring runes to the land as it was saving Ventuswill because while the world can go on without Ventuswill, the world cannot go on without runes. Without runes, the land becomes barren, crops won't grow, and all life eventually ends.

Now, I don't know much about Rune Factory 2 since I haven't actually played it (and anyone who has is free to correct me on the below points), but from what I've read online in terms of the lore, Fiersome's apocalypse would have happened a thousand years ago had the ancient Earthmates not placed their seal on him--roughly when Ventuswill was originally supposed to expire. And every thousand years, the seal on him has to be renewed; if not, the world is destined to be destroyed in Fiersome's raging apocalyptic hellfire, after which Terrable will awaken and restore life to the charred landscape at the cost of eliminating whatever remaining life has survived--in other words, a total rebirth of the planet.

Between the close timing of these two past events--the point that Ventuswill's life was originally supposed to end and the point when the seal was placed on Fiersome--and the fact they were to occur when the world's runes were starting to dry up, the Earthmates both past and present have been staving off the inevitable End of the World for centuries. The world, as we know it, could have been destroyed a thousand years ago as it was supposed to, but the Earthmates said "Nope! It's too nice to let it all die!" and have done everything they can to extend its lifespan.

And that's when we get to Rune Factory 5 and an incredibly dark statement from the main antagonist, Gideon. According to Gideon, Alice/Ares is the last known Earthmate--not the last, but there are so few Earthmates that if there are any others left, they're most likely in hiding and are on their way to becoming an extinct species. Now, Ventuswill's longevity has been ensured thanks to the actions of Lest/Frey during RF4 and she'll probably still be munching on pancakes in 1000 years, but if the Earthmates wind up going extinct, there's no way to restore Fiersome's seal because only Earthmates are capable of renewing the magic used to keep him locked up. And Fiersome is not the only godlike creature capable of causing the world's inevitable destruction; Tides of Destiny gave us the Legendary Golem, whose cataclysmic battle with the Native Dragons led to the creation of the current world, and RF5's potential apocalypse was that of the Fathomless Dread, an eldritch abomination that literally had to be sealed in another dimension to prevent it from destroying the world.

The Rune Factory world has brushed time and time again with total annihilation and the only reason it has managed to avoid catastrophe was because there was an Earthmate around to stop it. What happens when there are no longer any Earthmates to stop the end of all? Or is it possible that the Earthmates are going to experience a revival of some sort? Besides a castle-esque design, the logo for Rune Factory 6 does suspiciously feature a seraph/halo motif, after all...

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Wereharpy Vaggie au idea rant thingy: Lute accidentally 'created' or 'awakened' wereharpy Vaggie when she cut out Vaggie's eye with angelic steel. le whoops?

secondary ideas: Exorcists and their weapons as re-purposed "sin-eaters", the remnants of the hell-touched winner souls who were torn apart when their job of saving sinners from sins was seen as a failure and being able to permanently destroy them instead was discovered. The original wereharpies were the Sin-Eaters, who gouged out one of their eyes with their bare hands as a final test of their commitment of giving themselves up to save sinners, and took on their more monstrous forms after absorbing and battling with the sins they devoured. Their refusal to switch from eating sins to murdering sinners ended up with them being torn apart by the Sera. Adam then was handed the re-shaped pieces of the Sin-Eaters in the form of Exorcists, while the talons were used to create the alloy that came to be known as heavenly steel, the only substance capable of permanently damaging or killing a soul. (only like can cut like)

Lute cutting out Vaggie's eye with a heavenly weapon, specifically after Vaggie had refused to kill a sinner, reawakening the scrap of the Sin-Eater Vaggie had once been part of, including her 'new' wereharpy form.

The more time Vaggie spent in Hell trying to save sinners the more her harpy form, and the Sin-Eater instincts ingrained into it, started to come out.

Vaggie thought this was some part of being an Exorcist stuck with her prey and worried her harpy self would start mindlessly killing sinners if set loose. She worked with Charlie to keep herself as much under lock and key during harpy time as possible. Meanwhile Charlie just assumed this was part of Vaggie's sinner form and was happy to help her manage it in a way that kept her from hurting others or worrying about hurting others.

Neither of them knew the full history of the Exorcists or Sin-Eaters.

which, given in more detail, maybe goes something like this:

Heaven is new and workshopping how to handle having "winner" souls enjoying their eternal reward up there. YAY!! First problem: Winners are sad when their friends and family die but don't end up in Heaven with them. :( First solution: Create sin-eaters to take on the sins of souls down in hell, specifically the ones vouched for by someone up in Heaven! In eating them the Sin-Eater strips the soul blank, memories ripped out and sorted with the bad ones remaining with the Sin-Eater and good ones stored safely in Heaven while the soul is returned to Earth for another life and another chance at someday being with their former loved ones again- the memories of which will be returned once the soul arrives up in Heaven.

Perfect! How could this go wrong???

Snag number 1: Heaven born cannot sin or take on sins, so some Winners have to volunteer for the terrible job of going down to Hell and eating the souls, which isn't fun and will probably change the composition of their own soul. The Seraphim argue for a while if this can still count as being given eternal rest, but finally agree that they shouldn't deny the chance to any Winner that wants it. Some do, and the first Sin-Eaters are made.

Frist snag dealt with!

Snag number 2: Eating sins imbues the Winner soul WITH sins, obviously, staining their wings and tarnishing their halo and eventually twisting their entire physical form as well as leaving them with terrible memories and sinful thoughts haunting their minds. Sin-Eaters learn to focus wholly on their conviction of saving sinner souls, using the virtues to drown out the rising tide of sin in them, and their bodies warp into bird-of-prey and then harpy-like shapes in reflection of this. The Seraphim decide to make a dedicated area for the Sin-Eaters up in Heaven, both to shield other Winners from having to see them in their self-chosen suffering and to help maintain the concentration needed for the Sin-Eaters to contain their willingly taken-on sins.

Second snag.... mostly mitigated. The plan is still working. Continue.

Snag number 3: Lilith, with Lucifer's help, is working to make Hell a place that can be fun to live in actually, a place where no vice is taboo and no punishment can be worse than what's already happened. It becomes a place of power, passion, and personal freedom, sins as things that don't JUST have to cause suffering, and if the people around sinners aren't the nicest well no one really is and getting your head cut off means a lot less when you'll just pull yourself back together again. Some sinners start getting chopped into pieces for fun, even! In fact some sinners like their life in Hell so much they run from the Sin-Eaters that come for them, even when told this is happening on the request of someone who loved them in life and that a second chance at Heaven is waiting for them if they just HOLD STILL AND LET THEMSELVES GET EATEN FOR A MOMENT. Not many sinners do. First, sounds too good to be true. Second-Give up what they already have for something that only MIGHT happen? A lot of sinners don't like the odds on that, or the idea of losing their memories of the people they've met and befriended in Hell. Running from Sin-Eaters turns into fighting them. The Sin-Eaters are powerful though so that doesn't work so well.

Snag number three is. Kinda still there. And about to get Worse.

Snag 4: It turns out a soul can die. As sinners put more thought and effort into fighting off Sin-Eaters they start actually hurting them. Boons with the Queen of Hell give them very limited abilities to try fending off the Sin-Eaters who want to take them from Lilith's realm. It's not enough to really damage the Sin-Eaters, but it stops them in their tracks and makes some Sin-Eaters defend themselves on reflex. Which is when snag number four comes in like a wrecking ball- Because the souls torn apart by a Sin-Eater's talons do NOT pieces themselves together afterwards. They stay dead. And not only do they stay dead, their sins unravel into demonic energy and are released into the surrounding area, imbuing the fellow sinners with power and denying the Sin-Eaters anything to devour or save. Instead of reweaving the threads of a sinner's soul the threads are SEVERED. The Sin-Eaters are horrified. This isn't want they wanted, but apparently taking on parts of other souls (absorbing them, not chaining them) can distil a soul to the point that it tears apart other souls with it's own existence. (like a black hole that used to be a star collapsing under it's own weight and slowly devouring other stars in turn) The sinners are upset about all this for a hot second before realizing that having free floating demonic power in hell means ppl can take it for themselves. The ones that manage to claim this power now find themselves with the power to give their own very specific boons- and to do even more than that, for the right price. Power in Hell shifts slightly away from it's King and Queen and lesser nobility of the hellborn demons as the first Overlords rise up and start bartering souls from and among their fellow sinners, with all limitations on self defense removed from the abilities they can grant. Meaning sinners are powerful and can attack unprovoked if they want to. And oh, do a lot of them WANT to.

Not good! The Seraphim do NOT like seeing this!!!

Snag 5: Hell is suddenly getting MORE powerful, able to resist Heaven's will with force and self-cannibalize to condense power down among it's WORST and most ambitious sinners- But at least the solution is also part of the problem here. Adam, always grumpy about the idea of giving any kind of second chance to the "losers" his ex is SO proud of, floats the very obvious but also drastic idea of just, y'know, killing MORE sinner souls. Sure it'll free up more power for the Overlords, but that'll just make them fight each other over it even more, and hey, none of souls returned to Earth a second time have made it into Heaven anyway! Why not split the difference? "Free" souls from eternal torment by killing them, reduce the numbers Hell has at it's command, make more Overlords to fight the Overlords that are already running around. And maybe have some FUN with all it!

Sera thinks this plan might work....

Snag 6: The other Seraphim disagree, and so do the Sin-Eaters.

Snag 7: Sin-Eaters are losing control over the accidental soul killing, their sense of conviction shattered by this sin that they did not take on but CREATED with their own actions, they scream. The virtues they've been propping themselves up with like scaffolding crumble under the weight of sin and the need to confess it to the loved ones of those they killed. This need drives them into mindlessly trying to break free from their section of Heaven. Sera concedes to the other Seraphim that the Sin-Eaters cannot be asked to kill more souls.... ...but she also convinces guardians of Heaven that the other heavenly souls should not be burdened with knowledge of or guilt over sins they did not commit. The Sin-Eaters must be stopped. In the end the power of the sins proves too much to cage or chain and Sera herself rips the Sin-Eaters apart.

Well. That didn't end great. At least it's over through, right?

Snag 8: Sera still agrees with Adam's plan and has an idea of her own for how to make it happen. To create an army close-knit and bloodthirsty enough both to stand ready at Heaven's defense and have earned the pain that entails, Sera reforms the pieces of the original Sin-Eaters into the Exorcists- taking Adam's preferences into account, seeing as he will be taking responsibility of them from here on out. The resulting angelic women are armed with the weapons forged from the Sin-Eater's talons, and each year Adam leads them down to hell to Exterminate as many sinners as they can. He gives them cool horned masks to wear to match his own, since they're his girls after all, but adds the "stitched shut mouth" (they're not Sin-EATERS anymore and won't be spilling ANY secrets) and "missing eye" (which he has to admit DID look badass) details as an inside joke for himself to snicker at. As far as the rest of Heaven is concerned, the Exorcists are a host of Heaven born soldiers incapable of killing souls but willing to lay down their own lives defending them, and any resemblance to the Sin-Eaters is a only a memorial honoring those poor souls Heaven could not save.

Only Sera and Adam know the truth.

Now Adam is dead, and many Exorcists with him, and even IF Sera wanted to try undoing what has been done by piecing back together the souls she cut apart, hoping they might heal now the truth they died trying to confess to has come out... she can't.

That feeling, the drive all Exorcists take strength from, the need to be part of something bigger than themselves- it can't be fixed.

They can never be part of the whole that they once were.

But... maybe Vaggie is proof they can still help the sinner souls they so devotedly wanted to save. Maybe this new way is even better than the one that made them what they were.

Maybe the rest of the truth will come out someday, but until then, wereharpy Vaggie slowly feeling more protective of than bloodthirsty for the sinners living in her and Charlie's hotel is a something she can be relieved about. It's nice having friends. She's glad she doesn't want to kill them so much anymore.

(she doesn't know what that urge to feast on them really is meant for)

(so instead of taken their sins from them, she and Charlie go on trying to help the Hazbins live with and grow beyond their pasts instead)

(and. it. works.)